Maiden Voyage

Ever since last summer I have been following the Facebook page of a little campsite in one of my favourite spots in the Peak District. It is very basic but keeps getting very positive comments from folk who have stayed there. So finally, after 18 months of waiting to be able to get away in it, I booked us in for a three night stay and we took the campervan on its maiden voyage to see if we really were going to like it as much as we’d hoped.

It was quite a job remembering everything we needed to pack in. It proved to be quite a task since we had left all the camping equipment in the trailer just as it had been chucked in at the end of our trip to Shell Island two summers ago. Getting to the trailer was a job in itself as it was now surrounded by piles of garage paraphernalia. Paul spent a day shifting everything so we could empty the trailer. As we were only going for a couple of days we tried to keep our equipment to a minimum. I made my usual very comprehensive lists to ensure we didn’t forget the most important stuff and over the next few days we collected everything together. Amazon came in very useful for things like packing cubes some of which fit neatly into the hanging shelves in the wardrobe. Paul also bought some small storage boxes for pots and pans which fit neatly into the cupboard under the cooker storage compartment. We were amazed at how much we actually got in. We were finally ready for the off. 

On the day we had homeschool so didn’t get set off until 4pm. Since I know the way to Bakewell  I only needed to check the final stages of the route on google maps using the details sent to us by the site owner. What should have been a fairly straightforward journey taking just over an hour ended up taking over two due to the almost continual traffic jams through Sheffield. Then Bakewell gave Paul a bit of a headache due to him not believing my directions. We took every exit possible off the roundabout in the centre of the town before he went the way I’d said we needed to go. Ten minutes later we arrived at the coordinates we had been given where, at a fork in the road, we met a group of walkers who sent us in the wrong direction towards Over Haddon. As we drove towards the village we spotted what we thought might be the campsite we were looking for so we turned around in a handy farm gate and headed back to the junction where we found the entrance to the site no more than a few yards up the lane. We drove bounced our way down a rough, gravelled track; with Paul moaning about all the potholes and how he wouldn’t like to try getting a big motor home down there; to a large open field dotted with trees and old wheel fire-pits. Near the gate stood a wooden shed like structure which contained two toilets with washbasins. After Paul had availed himself of these services we drove around the empty field trying to decide where to pitch. The weather forecast had predicted thunderstorms and heavy rain for Wednesday night and into Thursday so, after my previous bad weather experience in the Lake District, I wanted a pitch that provided a little shelter from the elements. Paul chose a spot at the top of the field not too far from a tree, but not too close that we were completely in the shade. 

After levelling up the camper we set to sorting out the new awning. Last year, whilst scrolling through Facebook I had come across a few posts for a new kind of awning called a Sheltapod. It could be adapted to fit a number of vehicles, including cars, and could be used as a sun canopy or a full awning complete with inner tent. It seemed the ideal alternative to the big awning if we were only going away for a couple of nights. After a bit of research and a bit of cajoling we placed an order for an orange one to match the camper. What we got was a grey one by mistake. To be fair, the packaging did say orange. One phone call later and we had agreed to keep the grey one and accept the blackout cover as an apology. Now, apart from a very rushed and flustered try out; in that brief period between pandemic lockdowns, on the “not a family picnic” at Clumber Park; when severe weather stopped play, we have never used this awning. We carefully unrolled the pack and laid everything out to make sure nothing was missing. I got the poles ready whilst Paul slotted the pod into the awning rail on the van and, since we had actually read the instructions and watched the video, we erected the pod with very few cross words. They reckon one person can erect a Sheltapod in fifteen minutes. It took the two of us about half an hour but that did include referring to the video on a couple of occasions to clarify when things didn’t look quite right. Once the pod was up we set it up as our field kitchen, which has worked really well. The only improvement we need to make is the addition of the other camping cupboard which will free up the table. By the time we had finished setting up time was getting on and we still hadn’t eaten. For ease Paul rustled up a quiche salad which we ate accompanied by a well deserved glass of red wine whilst watching the setting sun. We had just finished clearing away when the site owner, a very pleasant chap, turned up and we had a bit of a chat and got a couple of recommendations for walks from the site whilst we paid our dues. In cash! It wasn’t long after he left that we set up the bed and settled down for our first proper night of camping in the van. 

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I think we both had a bit of a restless night. I know I woke up several times but that was probably because I didn’t want to disturb Paul by trying to get out to use the toilet after I’d finished reading so my bladder kept telling me I needed to pee. In the end I simply had to go and ended up waking him at 2.40am! To be fair, I thought it was later as it was the pink glow of dawn creeping over the horizon that had woken me. I must have fallen into a decent sleep after that since the next thing I knew was Paul waking me with a morning coffee. 

The day was glorious; blazing sun, blue sky and not a cloud in sight. After a late breakfast of bacon and egg butties; the law when camping; we had a really chilled out morning sipping coffee and watching Alfie explore. By late morning walking into the pod felt like entering an oven so I suggested we try the blackout cover to stop it getting any hotter. It took a few attempts and a couple of internet searches to get it right but we got there in the end. Feeling exhausted Paul went inside to get out of the sun, leaving me to lig out and catch a few rays, something I haven’t done in ages and I now have a red stripe across my middle. Eventually we decided we’d go for a walk along Lathkill Dale. Only it turned out to be a little more strenuous than I’d anticipated. I knew the first part along the road was going to be arduous because all road walking is arduous. You seem to be going forever before you get to the path you want even though the actual distance is quite short. We reached the path and started downwards and with every step Paul opined that it meant we had to go up again at the other end. It didn’t help that for the first part of the walk there was very little shade. We reached the bottom where Alfie made a beeline for the river, waded in up to his armpits and had a long, cooling drink. We sat there for a few minutes before following the path along the Dale with the river burbling along beside us. Strangely for Alfie he took every opportunity to get into the water, he normally avoids it like the plague. Although we were under the shade of the trees the bottom of the Dale was hot and humid which made it hard going for Paul; he doesn’t do humid; and necessitated frequent rest stops and drinks of lucozade.

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The worst was to come, however, when we reached the end of this section through the dale we were faced with a steep climb up the road into the village of Over Haddon. It must have taken us as long to get up that hill as it had to do the rest of the walk. Or it seemed that way. Even old folk were passing us! Whilst resting at the top of the last upward haul Paul checked to see how much further it would add if we decided to go to the local pub. In the end we thought “what the heck” and headed off to find it.

The Lathkill Hotel turned out to be at the far end of the village. We checked in with the landlady and sat at a table in the lee of the wall enjoying a pint and a packet of crisps whilst taking in the glorious view. Until a pair of older blokes in “proper” walking gear ensconced themselves at the next table. They were the loudest people at those tables. First they had a discussion about whose turn it was to pay and whether they wanted beer or whisky and which whisky was best before asking the barmaid if she could hurry as they only had ten minutes to spare before having to go and catch their bus home. It was a long ten minutes being forced to listen to their booming voices uttering complete bullshit. To celebrate their departure we had another pint before tackling the last leg of our walk. We arrived back at the van where Paul and Alfie collapsed in a heap. After a bit of a rest we set about preparing our dinner of barbecued steak with new potatoes and salad; accompanied by a glass of red of course. We had to cook so much of the steak that we treated Alfie to steak for his dinner as well. Once again we sat and watched the sun go down before pulling the bed out and calling it a night. 

By the time we had done eating the sky had become grey and overcast bringing an unwelcome chill to the evening but around 9pm there was a brief break in the clouds and we were treated to one final glorious sunset. 

The following morning we awoke to a dull, cool day with a chill wind. After our morning coffee we packed all our gear in record time, even when the wind tried to turn the pod into a balloon. After a final chat to the site owner we set off for home just as the first spots of rain started to fall. 

And did we like the experience? A few snags to sort out but we loved it!