Back in the campervan again, with two bionic hips, we set off up north
Scraaaark……..cruuuuunch……..claaaang…….the noise from the back of my van was alarming. What on earth had I packed so badly that it had fallen down? It took me a couple of seconds to realise that the horrendous noise was in fact the sound of George’s side, from the door to the back bumper, with its newly acquired decorative decal, being scraped along a wall as I came out of my daughter’s driveway and turned left. A turn I’ve done dozens of times in my car, with no problem. I hadn’t got the hang of driving a much longer vehicle.
It wasn’t a good welcome back to campervan life. After a break of ten months, during which time I’d been fitted with two new hips to replace my disintegrating ones, I’d come up to north Yorkshire to celebrate being able to get around again and enjoy the late summer sunshine on the Yorkshire coast and moorland.
After some commiseration from my daughter – “It’s not so bad, mum, it’s only metal, it can be fixed…..” we carried on, George no doubt affronted by the indignity inflicted on his handsome body. But I tried to disregard it as we parked up in a friendly campsite in Hinderwell, near Runswick Bay, and planned the rest of our day. After gingerly reversing into a good position on the site, hooking up to the electrics and getting the pop-top up, I wasn’t about to risk moving again. So we took the useful local coastal bus-service to the fishing village of Staithes where Toby and I set off for a short circular walk, starting along the dramatic cliff-tops on the Cleveland Way. This 109-mile national trail runs from Helmsley to Filey Brigg, a narrow peninsula further south. The sun sparkled off the sea and the views were breathtaking; I forgot all about the damage to George.
As the cliffs – a mixture of sandstone and limestone – are liable to be a bit crumbly, you’re advised to keep dogs on a lead. And anyway, the dramatic sheer drops from the cliff-tops made me far too nervous to let Toby run free. So with Toby still in need of a good run, we picked up the coastal bus again and got off at Runswick Bay. It was high tide when we arrived at the sheltered bay, where the red rooves of the small village are tucked into the hillside, so enjoying a delicious Yorkshire dairy ice-cream I sat on one of the wooden benches overlooking the sea, and waited for the tide to turn. The beach is long and sandy, and Toby went ballistic when he finally got to run with the other dogs enjoying their freedom.
Leaving the coast and heading inland, the second site I’d chosen was near the dramatic escarpment of Sutton Bank, another section of the Cleveland Way and the western gateway to the North York Moors national park. The author James Herriot lived just a few miles from there and once described the view over the Vale of York as “the finest in England”.
But as there was no way I was going to challenge myself with the steep climb and descent of Sutton Bank, to get to the campsite near Kilburn I picked what I hoped would be a less steep route across the moors, through Danby to the wonderfully-named Hutton-le-hole. Good choice: crossing a cattle grid onto the wild moorland, purple heather made a spectacular splash of colour in the foreground, with the green dales stretching out into the distance. At this late date in August, there were few people about, and I parked the campervan and strolled with Toby along a small path, finding a spot to sit and have a picnic in the sunshine. Learning about one of the joys of campervans: your picnic is just there in the fridge, waiting to be made!
Entering the small campsite I’d chosen, Butterhill , was rather like entering the parkland of a stately home! With landscaped gardens and a small stream running through it, from my pitch, one of just seven on the site, I had a perfect view of the giant figure of the White Horse of Kilburn on the hillside near us. I imagined it had been there for centuries, but in fact it was carved out by a local schoolmaster and 30 volunteers in 1857. Unlike its famous southern counterparts, which are carved out from chalk, the hillside of the Kilburn horse is grey limestone, so the horse is covered with white chalk chips to give it its iconic colour.
Setting off for a walk through the woodland below the White Horse, I soon realised that the tiny green dotted line on my Ordnance Survey map was not perhaps the best track to follow, so soon after a double hip replacement! A stile was a big challenge: I managed to get Toby over, and then of course had to follow, come what may. Then the battery on my phone died, as I was following a narrow track through the woods - so another lesson: always take a paper map, or at least a battery pack!
All was not well when I got back to the campsite either: turning on the tap to fill the kettle for a much-needed cup of tea – silence! No pump, no water…..a few phone calls later and I established that the water pump must have broken. Not a good record for a new campervan. But not disastrous, especially in this campsite where each pitch had its own tap.
But meant the van going back to the workshop and being out of action for a while.
WET WALES: THE GOWER PENINSULA
Back in action, and we are off to the Gower Peninsula! Carpe Diem being my new motto in life. What’s the point of having a campervan if it just sits in the courtyard outside my house? So in spite of the weather forecast, we set off.
More experienced campervanners would not have chosen a site on the top of the hill, at the Nicholaston Farm caravan and camping site in south Gower. “I’ll go there, that’s got a wonderful view of the beach and bay,” I said when given a choice of pitch by the friendly member of the Nicholaston team.
What I should have done is tucked myself in lower down, with the protection of a tall hedge. We live and learn in this campervan life. So what I learned is that, in the tail end of Hurricane Nigel which had swept across the Atlantic and hit west Wales head on, a VW pop top for one is not waterproof, when you’ve not had the foresight to tuck in behind a hedge lower down the slope; but secondly, although you’ll be kept awake all night by violent gusts of wind and lashing rain battering the canvas pop-top, you won’t actually get blown over. I spent the night on high alert, just in case.
I’d thoroughly researched campsites in the area, and the next morning all the reviews proved welcomingly true. The facilities were excellent: the shower block was warm, modern, spacious, spotlessly clean – and with piping hot water, just what was needed after a sleepless, cold, wet night. And the other vital necessity to my happiness was also available: an excellent cup of proper espresso coffee and a freshly baked croissant from the on-site shop.
A break in the rain led me to take the twisty, fairly steep path down through the woods and across the dunes to the beautiful long beach below the campsite, where Toby made up for his doubtless unnerving night by scampering happily the full length of it. And in the afternoon we headed for Rhossili, a small village on the southwestern tip of the peninsula. Rhossili Bay, with its three-mile-long beach of golden sand, deserves all its accolades as one of the best beaches in the UK. Toby leapt down the fairly steep path to the beach; I followed more slowly – and used his strength to pull me back up again, once he’d had his fill of running along the beach.
The area is protected by the National Trust, along with much of the Gower Peninsula as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB). And as there are wild ponies – and I spotted a tiny white foal - grazing the grass along the flat cliff tops, Toby had to be on a lead for the walk towards Worm’s Head. The sun came out as we neared the Coastwatch Centre, and the views across the bay were spectacular.
A cup of tea and an introduction to delicious Welsh Cakes, sitting outside a café with a glorious view of the sun setting over the bay, set me up for the drive back to the campsite and the rest of the day.
The following day the forecast predicted showers with lots of sunshine in between; the reality was almost constant heavy showers and no sunshine at all. So instead of battling the weather, I decided to make the most of it by staying in the campervan – after a foray to the shop for the above-mentioned flat white, croissant and freshly-baked bread – to prepare for our next Travels with Toby adventure. We’re heading to Portugal to stay with the family there; and I could use the wet day to research campsites en route. Proved to be very time consuming!
To Be Continued………!!