It was another trip. A fresh start. A chance to see something other than the house. The car or the street. Welcome to day 1 of out trip to East Devon and Oakdown Touring Park.
All the above is pretty ironic. Considering we are going to spend the next 3 nights driving to see places. And when we are not, we will be sleeping and eating in the car.
But it is different. The car, or campervan in this case, will be our mode of transport. Our kitchen. Our bedroom.
The only thing it is not is our bathroom. Aside from teeth brushing that is.
We join the first main road east. Our destination is East Devon. A touring park midway between Seaton and Sidmouth. Unfortunately not on the coast, but 3 miles or so inland.
In no particular hurry, we creep up gradually to a classic old VW camper. Our VW camper is somewhat more modern. Much more capable on the fast, undulating road we find ourselves on.
We stay behind it. Not because we have to, but because we want to. Doing at least 15 miles an hour under the speed limit, we remain content to trundle along. Our VW counterpart i am sure is enjoying this pace as he has to. The 40 year old air cooled engine not nearly as suitable to today’s highways.
Time to press on to East Devon and Oakdown Touring Park
After a mile or two, the restlessness sets in and i push my foot to the floor. I ease out and overtake. It would turn out this, plus another lorry or two would be our only victims of the fast lane.
Indeed, I am more often the victim on this journey, as a hurried procession of cars, bikes and vans flash past.
Overhead, the skies are grey, and the only real colour visible is the green of the trees and bushes as they flash by. It’s that time of year, and before we know it the deep greens will turn.
To be replaced with yellows, oranges and burnt reds before they fall, like dead embers to the ground. Never seen again.
Within a few miles, and slightly more minutes, we are off the main dual carriageways. We are moving at a slower place on these slower roads. Just like a road trip should be!
To either side of us are typical farm hedges. The sort that if viewed from an aeroplane would form that patchwork quilt effect. The various shades of green fields separated by various shades of green hedges.
The same hedges fence in fields of many things. Recently farmed land, leaving behind cylinders of bound hay. Corn standing higher than the average man. Cattle grazing, keeping the grass to a suitable length.
Sheep grazing in one field. Another has at least 100 cows in. I did not count them but i assure you i am not exhagerating.
We encounter a mile of non stop bends. Immediately followed by one of perfect straights as we navigate through the fields. Never to reach the other side it seems.
Lyme Regis
We pull into a car park at our first destination. We find a spot to cater for the overhang on the back of the ‘van, where are bikes are clinging to.
Max and I enjoy toasties cooked in the camper. Suzanne heats some water for a healthy eating instant noodle dish. Before long we start the walk to the beach of Lyme Regis.
We access the leg busting steps via a private road we are not allowed to drive down, but it appears we can walk it.
Through a couple of gates, and we take on some steps. These are not normal steps though. Many of them at least a foot down, wooden edges packed with mud.
All of them trodden to an extent it is as hard as concrete.
We arrive at sea level. Plunged into an area with chalet type buildings. Too big for beach huts. Too small for lodges.
Unused vessels bob about in the sea. Judging by the number upended, the kayak rental shop is seeing little business.
The bay in Lyme Regis was heaving. The beach 200 yards from the bay less so.
The Hustle and Bustle of Lyme Regis
Everyone going about their business. Scurrying this way and that. I am sure if viewed from above then we would all look like ants. Not the orderly, worker ants that form those neat lines. No. We would be like the ants whose nest you have disturbed. Moving in any direction with no obvious pattern or purpose.
I suppose in reality, many of do not have either direction or purpose. Walking this way and that.
Cafés and pubs vie for our attention. Kiosks seem to be having more success. Some being set up right in the main footfall of us ants.
The cloud covering means the renters are seeing little business for their deck chairs. Their sun shades and parasols even less.
Brightly coloured kayaks and canoes are stacked. Some laying flat. Others pointing to the sky, perhaps searching for the sun that may result in their use.
There are of course, a few entertainment stalls. For example, a man with a huge netted off area. Inside, 6 trampolines. Each about the size of a double bed. £2.50 for 5 minutes. Each trampoline monitored by a timer of the same colour.
We handed over our coins for Max who rushed to the blue trampoline. The proprieter was on the ball with his timings. As soon as the alarm hit 5 minutes, the children get told to vacate. This was wether or not another was waiting. There was no courtesy minute. No extra few seconds for the children to enjoy.
But then, I guess business is business!
We continue to drive West to East Devon and Oakdown Touring Park
We leave the business people and the beaches and head back up the stairs. Gravity making it harder on the way up.
About 30 minutes later we arrive at East Devon and Oakdown Touring Park. A smart lady with a clipboard has us checked in, in no time. Shortly after we follow a ranger type man on a buggy to our pitch, and we are soon set up.
The pitch is neat and tidy, although only a hedge seperates us from the fast road we drove in on. It is not particularly busy, but frequent cars, lorries and the odd tractor reminds us the road is there.
The road spoils the peace and tranquility camping should offer. The birds don’t seem to mind, as they exercise their voices while sheltering out of sight.
As the sun sets, the trees do a good job at sheltering the evening warmth. The road noise still comes.
The familiar smell of reheated paster bolognaise fills the open sided campervan. It gives us a warm, winter glow on a mild summer ending night.
Pasta bolognaise is a regular dinner for us when we camp.
All but the pasta is pre cooked. 15 minutes after starting, we are tucking into a hearty and healthy campervan tea.
Easy to prepare.
Easy to reheat.
And easy to eat.
Easy. That is what camping should be about
A couple of drinks later (the whisky flask stayed capped tonight) and we are all settling down for the first night.
