Osmington Mills (Day 2)

Having now survived two nights in Wee Margie moving everything around inside her to better suit our needs we now have a system. This morning whilst John enlightened the neighbours on all things campervan and travelling Angela hired two cold blocks from the campsite shop to keep the cold bag cool. Yesterday evening we put some bacon belonging to our coast path walking neighbours in the bag as the evening was warm. It felt good to help them out, and be part of their journey. Tonight they will be staying at the Youth Hostel on Portland, we have thought about them during the course of the day. 

Lunch packed in our rucksack we walked along the coast path to Ringstead Bay. Along the path we met a lady striding out. She stopped to chat. She enlightened us her husband had bad lungs and could only walk slowly; he was somewhere further down the path so we would probably pass him. She'd left instructions with him that if he fell over the cliff edge to text her!Ring

stead Bay is a pretty little hideaway with views across Weymouth Bay to Portland. After a stop at the cafe we settled ourselves on the beach of shifting pebbles and people watched. Some people are just not designed to wear wetsuits. The afternoon passed by quickly as we warmed in the sun of a beautiful May day. Ice cream anyone? 

Whilst washing up this evening John spoke to our lady neighbour. He told her we had a lovely campervan back at home. Why then were we effectively sleeping in our car? It's all about kayaks. We can carry them on the roof of Wee Margie, but not Large Marge. Is she looking down her nose at me? No Wee Margie. Tell her I'm high mileage like you two. Charming!

John has been a little troubled in the bowel department these last couple of days so tomorrow we will probably stay once again at Osmington. What could be the cause? Wild Mushrooms anyone?

Osmington Mills

Last night passed without incident. We were cosy in Wee Margie. However, this morning we were awoken at 6 am by crying children and frustrated parents. Oh joy! We don't very often stay at campsites and had forgotten just how noisy they could be. Our neighbours weren't very friendly, which they should have been after making some noise quite late last night upon their return from the pub. Is that Julie Walters? Who Wee Margie? That woman next door with long red hair walking with one of those sticks that doesn't touch the ground. She certainly looked like Julie Walters in character, and yes, her walking stick was gliding.

After a walk around the adjacent field for John to pick yet more mushrooms, we decided to drive into Swanage for a walk. There was a food/craft/music event on the seafront and the town was busy.

But we could visit Swanage anytime, and left after a short while heading to tonight's stop the Rosewall campsite at Osmington Mills.

When John was a young boy, he used to holiday here in a static caravan with his parents and as we headed down to the site his face was beaming. As usual the lady owner remembered John's father from all those years ago.

Cheese bought back from France for lunch eaten, we chatted to a couple who were walking the south west coast path. The lady had just retired and this was one of her bucket lists must do's. In around fifty days' time they should reach Minehead. We exchanged stories of adventures done and others to do. There's life in us oldies yet and we were raring to get on with it.

We will stay two nights here at Osmington Mills, before moving along the Dorset coast. This slow pace suits us and Wee Margie whose been a little under the weather these past few weeks. 

Some Three Cornered Leek growing in the village, John was lucky enough to find some proper Wild Garlic and Rosemary to add to his mushroom omelette tomorrow morning. 

Langton Matravers

We're on the road again. This time in 'Wee Margie', our old and a little unreliable Citroen Berlingo. She's not a Volkswagen, or a campervan, but she has all the attitude of 'Large Marge'. 

Today we decided to travel a few miles from home to Langton Matravers, near Swanage to Tom's Field Campsite. Inside Wee Margie is a boot jump. A box that transforms her into a small campervan. Sounds simple, doesn't it? What could possibly go wrong. Once we'd sourced a pitch suitably level for the car, we set about erecting the awning. The wind was a little blustery making this exercise a little challenging. The boot jump set up was starting to lose its appeal. Eventually, something that resembled a shed stood behind the car. What's that a Portaloo? . Here we go again. Wee Margie sounded just like Marge! We personally likened it to a box, and quipped, 'two go camping in a shed'. 

Keen to stretch our legs we walked across the fields to Dancing Ledge aware that the downhill walk would result in a challenging uphill climb. But we didn't mind, it was well worth it.

And as an added bonus John stumbled across some field mushrooms to cook with his burgers. 

Not only that, but a ring of Saint Georges mushrooms for breakfast!

Tonight will be a challenge. We've become used to the comforts of Marge. Would we survive the night?

Poole

This is blog 44 of our trip. And what a trip. Where had we been these last few weeks? There were times when we thought Marge wouldn't make it, but she proved us wrong. Thank you, ye of little faith. Sorry Marge.

Keen to make the most of our last day we sorted ourselves out in record time and arrived in the nearby coastal village of Barfleur just after eleven. Right coffee anyone? Pushing the boat out a bit, aren't you? Yes, Marge. It is our last day. Sitting by the harbour whilst the tide crept in unnoticed, in no rush to leave the small town which is famous for being the spot where William the conqueror set sail for England in 1066.

After a walk around the narrow streets and onto the stone covered beach to collect scallop shells, we bought our last baguette of this trip and moved Marge to a spot behind the sea wall where there were lots of other vans. The waves rolled in and the swallows swooped in the clear sky. The sun gained heat and we soaked up as much of it as we could. 

With just twenty miles to drive to Cherbourg we chose to travel the coastal route, a road we've cycled many times. The waters of the channel a green blue sparkling in the afternoon sun. You would have thought we were by the Mediterranean. Cherbourg would be the end of the road for us, Marge and our trusty tea towel which has accompanied us all over France, Spain, Portugal and Italy. Threadbare didn't really describe it. Thank god, that thing's an embarrassment. So are you sometimes Marge!

At a quarter to three we arrived in Cherbourg. Marge had landed under her own steam. Charming. You were ready to give up on me, weren't you? We were just worried about you Marge. Now let's fill up your fuel tank. How much! 

At six fifteen the Brittany Ferries vessel Barfleur slipped its mooring. As always when we leave France Angela had a tear in her eye. We'd travelled just over two thousand miles, eaten around thirty-five baguettes, spent £133.00 on overnight accommodation, which equated to just over £3.00 per night. Eaten more pate and camembert than we should have, developed a passion for apple lattice, met lots of interesting people and seen some amazing places. Oh, and as for you Marge, we've spoiled you with over £600 of only the best diesel. 

The car ferry berthed in Poole at nine forty-five and we were home by ten twenty-five.

The next morning at home our garden was a blaze of colour, the spring bulbs Angela planted in October bursting forth wild and crazy taking over the raised beds. They looked great. The last six weeks had flown by. That aside, there is so much more to see. It would be a great shame if we didn't experience our own country and others that laid beyond our shores before it is too late, which is why we have returned home planning to do just that, setting off again in a couple of weeks' time, if our poorly car is up to it. If not, we'll be calling on you Marge once you've been checked over. To our followers, we hope you've enjoyed accompanying us and Marge on our travels.

Cheers until next time!