North Sands (Salcombe)

Yesterday evening the sea behind Marge swelled and the water in the harbour in front of her rippled. What a contrast. This morning we were up by half past seven, blinds and door open. No, we had not stayed overnight. Our neighbours from Windermere in the Lake District decided they would stay on for another night. We exchanged information on places to stay and talked about travelling in France. 

First stop today, Dartmouth. But what a journey to reach the town. We drove up, up and up. Keep going Marge, you're doing well. Oh my god. These Devonshire roads! The parking for vans in Dartmouth if you can find a space, is right on the waterfront. Breath in Marge, we're going to shoehorn you in here right opposite the public toilets. How much? Twenty pence. Card payments accepted. After the nerve-wracking drive Angela was in need of a full twenty pence worth, squeezing out every last drop to get her monies worth.

Across the river Dart at Kingswear a steam train that ran to Brixham sounded, resonating across the harbour. Tired from our early start we lunched on Devon pasties, the best ever. They were so filling Angela decided we'd have fish for our evening meal.

Leaving Dartmouth early afternoon, the weather decided at long last to settle. The sun played hide and seek with the thin grey cloud. The steep inclines of this morning left behind we now had to contend with narrow roads dwarfed by high hedgerows. John had the line of sight whilst Angela driving on the left-hand side relied on his instruction. Does she know what's she doing? Yes Marge, no tricks from you please. As if. Well, what was all that about when we filled up with fuel? Immobilising yourself for five minutes. We just can't trust you, and don't think we didn't notice your engine management lights been on since we left this morning. Is this all-pay back for us going off in Wee Margie? 

The drive down to tonight's stop at North Sands was narrow, steep and winding. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to bring Marge down here! The bay however is stunning and tonight Marge is one of four vans staying. The waves are rolling in crashing into the sea defence just fifteen feet away. A little worrying as it's a spring tide.

One of our two neighbours tonight posts videos on YouTube. One is the fitting of a Ridgeline fly screen which coincidentally John has just bought for Marge ready for our next trip to Scotland to repel the midges. He lives in his van and is travelling around the coast of the U.K. We are meeting more and more people who have chosen van life. Angela noticed one of his rear tyres was losing air so John lent him our electric pump which showed air was leaking through the tyres valve. 

Tomorrow we will all go our separate ways. Where will we all be tomorrow night who knows? But we will all remember crossing paths with each other.

Teignmouth

Some much needed rain fell during the night lulling us into a restful sleep. This morning dawned bright but a keen breeze blew across from the seafront. More chicken of the wood's fungi was cut from the nearby tree for John's omelette plus some extra to take with us. The man in the van nearest the tree had taken some also. In no rush we took our time to leave, showering, doing some handwashing and walking once again up to the tap by the life boat station to top up two five litre water containers to top up Marge's tank. By midday Exmouth was coming to life. Dog walkers, swimmers, in increasingly popular changing robe jackets and walkers all keen to catch the fine weather before the forecast rain of the afternoon arrived. Out in the bay a rainbow of colours drifted across a hazy sky. It was perfect kitesurfing weather. 

Today we would travel just over twenty miles to Teignmouth on the north bank of the river Teign estuary. The journey was more than a little demanding for Marge with some very challenging long steep climbs when we all held our breath. Marge for some reason has decided she has a full tank of diesel, when we know yesterday she'd used a fifth of her tank. Really Marge, you are a worry. A helter skelter of a drive took us down into the seaside and port town of Teignmouth. The overnight parking for the vans should be on the esplanade, but they are replacing the older street lighting for some that is more energy efficient so the road was closed. After some enquiring with other van owners we are now along with many others parked on the jetty behind Back Beach. The man in the van behind us has been here eighteen months, leaving recently to drive to Scotland to marry his girlfriend at Gretna Green. 

The promised rain came and went all through the afternoon and early evening. We dodged the showers walking out into the town stopping to buy John an onion bhaji pasty from 'Made in Heaven' (food from Devon).

They sold a large range of Devon pasties, including a very large one named the Beast of Teignmouth, several flavours of scotch egg including chocolate and a variety of homemade cakes. This was comfort food at its finest. 

The wind blew with gusto from the east churning the sea water-stained russet by the nearby red sandstone cliffs.

Surfers bobbed like seals in the heaving seas, occasionally finding their balance to ride on the forward section of an incoming wave before becoming upended in the foaming waters.

Back at Marge the waves pounded the sea wall, barrelling along the side of the jetty with a roar that resembled a fast-approaching steam engine. Waves at the far end propel spray around twenty feet in the air. We had taken the decision when we arrived to position Marge away from all this activity. Others, thrill seekers sat in their vehicles oblivious of the damage the sea water was doing. 

Around seven o' clock the weather settled. We were hoping it would clear enough for a reasonable sunset. Sunglasses on Marge, if it's a good one it might dazzle you.

Exmouth (Day 2)

After an omelette containing foraged herbs and the chicken of the woods fungi from a nearby tree John was raring to go this morning, but first we needed to walk along the seafront to buy rolls and cheese for lunch so it was midday before we left for the tent show.

We were surprised just how many people were at the small outdoor show at the Westpoint Arena near Exeter. A lot of people a similar age to ourselves were interested in the small lightweight tents and we got talking to a lady who told us how pleased she was with her MSR three person tent that could accommodate her, her husband and child and two lurcher dogs when they camped out overnight on Dartmoor.

Tempted to buy a MSR Hubba Hubba two person tent we thought a three person might suit us better with more storage space for our pannier bags. In the shop John was tempted by a Helinox camp chair and we were both on the verge of buying an Outdoor Revolution Skyfall mattress which would suit us when staying with Angela's son and his family. But just now we had too many other costs to cover what with both our car and Marge playing up. Yes, Marge is being troublesome again. We spent quite a long time at the show, the weather being glorious made us want to spend the night out in the open in one of the smaller tents. Sorry Marge.

Upon our return to Exmouth we had to wait for a dog walking lady to return to her car so we could park Marge near to the other vans, so we delayed paying the overnight parking charge of eleven pounds until we were sure of a spot, which we have now right under the trees with views across to the seafront. By the time we walked down to the beach to read a while it was five o' clock. But read for a while we could not as a young boy was offshore in a cheap inflatable dinghy and we could see no adults watching him. He struggled to turn the flimsy vessel and return to shore so we watched him until he caught the incoming tide and landed safely on the beach.

Needing to walk a little more we walked into town for a meal. It being Saturday evening the girls were out on the town. Which group did you fall into as a youngster Angela. Breasts out or a skirt barely covering your credentials? Neither. Too shy and self-conscious. More long sleeves and jeans even in warm weather. Each group of girls entering the pub seemed to be wearing less clothing, not leaving much to the imagination. Returning to Marge a little light rain fell. Let's hope the girls clothing wouldn't shrink in the damp conditions.

We have enjoyed our time in Exmouth, but tomorrow will travel around the coast towards Teignmouth. 

Exmouth

Last night the sun eventually showed splitting the cloud into a design of crazy paving. We walked out back through the sculpture park to catch the sunset, but the cloud was too thick to see it. 

Last night Marge was one of five vans. The others were all permanent homes for young people. We could understand why with rents unaffordable and mortgages unobtainable. By nine thirty this morning all but one of our nomadic neighbours had departed. Would they return to Portland tonight or move on we wondered. 

Before leaving the tied island of Portland we stopped at Lidl for a baguette and chocolate brownies. We'd become so used to these foods being part of our daily diet whilst in France we couldn't resist.

The journey to Exmouth was challenging for Marge, particularly around Burton Bradstock and Lyme Regis. We drove through pretty villages of thatched cottages, stone bridges and English country pubs. Marge struggled more than a little up some of the long drags and was glad when we parked near to the end of Chesil Beach to take a photograph back towards Portland.

Deep breaths Marge, slow and steady. We're not happy either, memories of the Pyrenees fresh in our minds. However, the struggle was worth the views along the coast. Beautiful. 

We are in Devon now. A county of narrow, undulating, potholed roads. The drive is not much fun for John as he sits on the centre line and Angela can sense his nerves as she drives. Have Faith. Tonight, we are staying just back from the seafront at Exmouth behind the small nature reserve.

After lunch we took a walk up on to the coast path to Orcombe Point to the Geoneedle an impressive landmark constructed of various rock types found along the Jurassic Coast. Tired from waking early and the drive we lay on the grass for an hour with the sun warming us as a breeze blew across our prone bodies. Then a walk back down to the promenade and along the seafront to the far end of the beach. By now it was five o' clock and family, friends, couples were gathering on the beach making the most of a warm evening. The air filled with the aroma of heating charcoal. The vibe was great. We bought two ice lollies and returned to Marge who was now accompanied by a fair few vans including a forty year old Volkswagen T2 made in South Africa. It looked very retro. 

Tomorrow we will drive towards Exeter where we will attend a tent show. If there's one thing John can't resist it's looking at lightweight tents, and as we are hoping to cycle in France later this year he's on the lookout for a replacement for ours.

The other thing he can't resist is edible fungi. And not perturbed by last weeks dodgy digestive system he's spotted a young 'chicken of the woods' fungi with its golden-yellow shelf like structure growing on a tree nearby. Angela can tell it's heading our way which is fine, but she wont be eating it.

A last walk out to view the sun setting.

Portland

Let's go to the Riviera Marge. Great, we're off to France again. No. The English Riviera. Didn't think of taking Wee Margie then? No Marge you're our best girl. It'll give you a chance to show off your newly sprayed wheels. Silver suited Angela, but John much prefers the anthracite grey they now are.

Before

After Refurbishment

By half past one Marge was nestled in the corner of the parking area behind the Tout Quarry Nature Reserve on Portland.

After lunch we walked through the nearby sculpture park then onto the coast path with views across to the tidal sandbank of Chesil Beach.

The wind blew offshore making the walk a little treacherous in places, particularly on the narrower sections. John was worried Angela might fall as if anything happened to her, he didn't know how to operate the washing machine! The breeze chilled us, and the area felt desolate, like the end of the world. Keen to escape the wind we walked off the coast path cutting through St. George's churchyard stopping to look at a bomb crater.

In July 1942 an enemy bomb narrowly missed the church landing amongst the ancient graves. The windows and door of the church, closed in 1917 were blown out. The crater left by the bomb has been lined with pieces of unidentified headstones, broken urns and ironwork found in the area after the bomb landed. Interesting.

Portland is rather neglected and ramshackle. But we like it. The coast is interesting and the views stunning back towards Chesil beach as it disappears into the distance. 

Tomorrow we will head towards Exmouth excited about this next trip.

There is an adventure in all of us, you just have to find it, or let it find you. Isn't that right Marge?