Go to Gibraltar. It rocks. Or does it? It’s a place that I really wanted to go to, just to see what it’s like. Would we find a little corner of Britain in the med? Well… I think we found that already in the Costa del Sol! Would we find a throw-back to 80s Britain? Would we find a Spanish city that was British by name only? Would it be a place where cheap cigarettes and monkeys are the main attractions? By that I don’t mean that monkeys are cheap… from what we saw of a local walking past them with food, I think they’re the equivalent of pigeons in Trafalgar Square… only the tourists like them.

Well, in all honesty, even though we’ve been there, I don’t think we’ve got a definitive answer to any of those questions. It’s a bit of an enigma as a place. On the one hand, you’ve got a high street with some recognisable British brands (Marks + Spencer, Early Learning Centre, WHSmith, BHS). On the other hand, you’ve got a patch of land which is Spain within a stone’s throw and North Africa within a short ferry ride. On the other hand (hmmm… too many hands… maybe they’re monkey hands?) you’ve got a place full of off-licences and people going back into Spain clutching handfuls of cheap cigarettes and cheap spirits. I guess the best description would be that it’s pastiche Britain (mmm, pasty of Britain… what I wouldn’t give for a Cornish pasty now!). It doesn’t make the views any less beautiful though.

So whilst we were trying to fathom the conundrum that is The Rock (not to be confused with The Rock or The Rock), what did we get up to there? Well we actually visited it twice from Bertha’s parking spot a couple of hundred metres away in Spain. The first time we ventured there, we had a little wander around the main shopping streets before working up an appetite by climbing upwards as far as the entrance to the nature reserve. What better way to satisfy an empty stomach than with fish and chips (or sausages and chips) from “Roy’s Cod Plaice” (which ironically didn’t have plaice on the menu… or rock!). You’d think that we’d been away from Britain for more than 3 months if you’d seen us devour that meal on the bench. A welcome meal indeed, washed down with a proper pint shortly afterwards!

The following morning we once again left Bertha in Spain (nope, we didn’t take her over to Gibraltar, even though petrol was so much cheaper there… even though it was her 24th Birthday) and this time we had to wait to get into Gibraltar, as the Easyjet plane was coming in to land on the runway which separates Gibraltar from Spain. It’s the strangest level crossing that we’ve ever walked over!

Even after a mug of builder’s tea each, we couldn’t get our heads around Gibraltar… and the more we thought about it and discussed it, the deeper we got into the philosophy of “ownership” of land… which yielded many more questions, but no answers.

So there you have it. Gibraltar. Go see it for yourself and please let us know if it makes sense to you.

Where in Spain can you play Settlers of Catan, watch some great 90s videos (yes, videos, not DVDs!) such as Cool Runnings and Home Alone, eat great food and share stories with fellow travellers? Well, for the last week or so, we’ve been at the final planned stop of our first European loop; Villa Isabel near Malaga. It would probably best be described as both a Christian community and a way-point for travellers, so it was a perfect place for us to stop off and see where we could help out.

Well, as soon as we mentioned that I know a little about computers and Kiri likes to do outdoor work, we were asked (with no expectations) to look at their computer network and garden (not at the same time!). Kiri set to work in the sunshine (incidentally, since mentioning the surprising levels of Spanish wind in a previous blog post, we’ve learned that the Costa del Sol (coast of the sun) used to be called Costa del Viento (coast of the wind), but the name was changed to make it more attractive to tourists! The wind is nothing compared to the extreme weather there has been back in the UK though… I should probably finish this brief aside and continue the sentence), tackling a huge rose bush, strimming knee-high weeds in places and saving a tree from being swallowed by brambles.

Now I haven’t really done much networking since my first job out of uni (telephone technical support for a bespoke business network gateway device… sounds grander than it is!), but I dusted off the relevant grey cells and got to work on the spaghetti junction of cables. The first job was to remove all of the wires that weren’t plugged into anything at all(!), then work out the topography (and document it), before neatening up the remaining cables to make future management easier. Oh, and I flashed a wireless access point that wasn’t working, bricked it (it wasn’t even responding to a ping), then shorted the electronics to bring it back to life. All in a day’s work!

Onto a different type of networking now; we’ve met some really great people whilst we’ve been here. Jacob + Bev are basically the Mum + Dad of the place and they’ve made us feel so at home, as have all of the other staff. Sharing food with new people is always a really special experience and it’s even better when you can share stories of adventure and travel. Some people we met were just at the start of their travels; others were near the end, but all had inspiring stories that encouraged us and that we can learn from. And as we’re quite close to Africa, some North African influences can be found in the food, so we’ve eaten some great stuff. I know several people have said in response to previous blog posts that we should take Bertha over to Morocco… having had a taste of their food we really wish we could!

But sadly our time on this loop is limited and it looks like the next food we’ll be tasting is British fish and chips. Here we come Gibraltar!

Who would have guessed that the highest altitude of our trip so far would not be Switzerland or Austria, but Spain?! Yup, the mountain range to the east of Granada took us to an altitude of 1372 metres according to our GPS tracker (or 1429 metres according to our paper map). It would be lying to say that Bertha sailed up the slopes, because it was engine power that pulled her to the top, but it didn’t seem to be too much of a struggle. We experienced quite a contrast in weather though; two days previously we’d been basking in temperatures in the mid twenties, but in the mountain pass we drove through sleet and spied snow ploughs at the ready on the slip roads.

So were we in Granada to visit the famous palace? Nope (although given the number of people that have recommended that we go there, we probably should at some point in the future!). Were we there to go to a luxury spa built over one of the hot springs? Nope (budget constraints… plus we’re not really spa people!). Our quest was to find the hot springs near Santa Fe that haven’t been commercialised yet. Unlike the hot springs we visited near Lamia, Greece, these are not sign-posted; in fact it took a little bit of research to find the GPS co-ordinates of them. The latitude and longitude were accompanied by a warning about mud, but we hadn’t seen that much rain, so thought that we would be fine in Bertha.

Now Kiri has quite a bit of experience in driving off-road vehicles (tractors, landrovers, quad bikes, etc) in mud. I have none… but then again Bertha isn’t really an off-road vehicle… well, she hadn’t been up until this point, but I reckon you can teach an old dog new tricks! As we headed down a muddy track through the middle of an olive grove, Kiri started to warn me that we should probably go back. I wouldn’t say that I ignored her, but… ok, I ignored her. We reached an impassable puddle (ooh, that would make a good band name!) and I conceded defeat… for this route. We reversed and I plotted another route on the satnav. This route had even softer mud, but with the promise of hot springs at the end, I was keen to persevere… especially as at this point we’d been washing out of a bucket for the previous 2.5 weeks. I’m not willing to give up on something until I’ve exhausted every avenue… but after finding a lake blocking this route and performing a 17 point turn in soft mud I reluctantly agreed that all routes would probably be the same. Having almost doubled Bertha’s weight with additional mud, we returned to terra firma, re-planned our route and headed for the coast instead.

What followed was a lovely couple of days beside the beach along the Costa del Sol. We’re not talking about the touristy areas with pristine beaches; we’re talking about places where learner drivers practise their manoeuvres; where all of the local joggers go. Going to sleep with the sound of the sea is something that has been a real privilege on this trip. People pay good money to have a sea view on their holidays; this is the sea right on your doorstep.

Mountains, mud, sea; we love Spain!

…falls mainly… well, you know the rest. What about the wind in Spain though, eh? No rhyme there to help you out, is there? We’ll give you a clue. The wind is following us; that’s where it is and we’ve experienced a fair old bit of it in Spain.

The first bit of serious wind we encountered was on the drive to a nature reserve between Barcelona and Valencia. As we were driving along, the crosswinds were so strong that they blew two of our vents open (well, Bertha’s vents actually… you get what I mean!). After hastily rigging up some string to tie them down, we arrived safely at our destination, but the wind didn’t die down, so we faced Bertha into it, battened down the hatches, replaced the string with guylines and slept in the lower bed to keep our centre of gravity down. We thought that might be the end of the story, but as we drove across the mountains towards Granada we again were subject to wind; this time swirling, so there was nowhere to hide. Now my fluid mechanics isn’t particularly good and we’re quite new to this motorhoming malarkey, so we experimented with parking in different positions, before sidling up to a large French motorhome (that arrived after us) and sheltering in its shadow!

It may have been windy, but aside from that, it’s been gorgeous weather with some absolutely awesome sunsets. We’ve noticed that they’ve been getting later too; driving west within a time zone and south towards the equator has made quite a noticeable difference to the time of sunsets (as well as the days getting longer anyway now). We’ve also seen some stunning scenery; beautiful beaches, incredible mountains and stunning wetlands with some very exciting birds; who knew that Spain had so much to offer?! It has also given us our first dodgy-tasting water of the trip. When we filled up at the nature reserve, we noticed the water tasted a bit like the water that you get at the Pump Rooms in Bath; a little salty… which probably means it’s full of great minerals! However, it was too salty for us, so we bought a 6.5 litre container of water for drinking from a petrol station, which we polished off within a day, using the rest of the salty water for washing.

Spain has also been the place where we’ve started spotting other British motorhomes. It’s interesting; we go for 82 days of our trip without seeing a single British motorhome, then 3 come along within the space of a week! After our polite conversation with the British couple near Carcassonne (yeah, ok, we realise that’s France… but it’s near Spain!), the next couple we got chatting to were at the nature reserve. Di + Pete have been involved in the motorhome world for quite a while, including reviewing motorhomes and writing articles for MMM. Our chat with them gave us a glimpse into a different way of motorhoming; driving 500 miles in a day (I’m not sure Bertha would even make 500 miles in a day!), then staying in areas for slightly longer. Maybe a motorhome magazine would be interested in us reviewing a motorhome on a long-term test drive…? Maybe up to the top of Norway? We can but dream!

The other British couple that we met, reminded us of the strong community that we are part of as motorhome owners. Before they even knew our names, we had been invited around to Paul + Jane’s motorhome for the evening. They’re relatively new to motorhoming (last 3 years or so) and this is their first adventure with a dog. Not just any dog though; a gorgeous 8 month old black cocker spaniel called Peggy. Rather unsurprisingly, their blog is named in her honour: Peggy does Portugal. It was great to swap stories with them, talk about adventure, share tips on places to go, but most of all, it was lovely to be welcomed into their home – a most enjoyable evening.

Our plan now is to continue to head south within Spain before we begin to turn back towards home. It seems like the wind might be a constant theme in Spain though… anyone got any tips for motorhoming in gales?

Do you know that feeling near the end of a holiday where you’re really looking forward to settling back into your everyday routine? If so, you’ll get where I’m coming from with this blog post. If not, you’ll probably think that I’m crazy!

Much as this trip is appealing to my sense of adventure, the lifestyle of constant change is outside my comfort zone. I’m a man of routine basically; Kiri is much more adventurous and spontaneous. So whilst I am loving this trip, it can be a bit exhausting at times and I’m looking forward to returning to “normality” at some point. However, when I stop to contemplate our time so far, I’m aware of how much we’ve learned and been inspired by what we’ve seen and who we’ve met… as well as that we’ve been able to give a little to others as we’ve travelled.

I guess the main inspiration that we’ve had is creatively. We have seen so many beautiful things; both natural and created by humans:

Mountain shrouded by cloud behind Lake Geneva, Switzerland:

Reflection of Schwaz, Austria:

Metelkova; an area of Ljubljana, Slovenia given over to street art:

Frost on our windows in Serbia:

Stunning whittling location in Akti Koviou, Greece:

The Meteora monasteries in Greece:

Graffiti in Athens, Greece:

Sunset colours from a beach near Nafplio, Greece:

Bright fresco colours in Pompeii, Italy:

Clouds and rushes in Strangolagalli, Italy:

Umbrellas strung across the road in Florence, Italy:

Shop display of Venetian masks in Venice, Italy:

The communal eating table at Ronald’s in Bussana Vecchia, Italy:

Incredible topography at the Verdon Gorge, France:

Beautiful sunset colours at the 3 Digues, France:

The ancient city of Carcassonne, France:

With this visual feast, it’s really no surprise that Kiri had a revelation that she needs to paint.

Equally, we’ve learned so much from the people that we’ve met:

• Hospitality – when we visited a church in Switzerland, we were invited back for lunch after the service. Sharing food together was just part of their church’s culture
• Perseverence – in Slovenia we saw a group of people working tirelessly to encourage others to read and discuss the bible critically and creatively, revealing that faith can be a living thing
• Generosity – in Serbia we were bowled over by the generosity of everyone; what they had, they shared with us
• Boldness – in Greece we met Julien + Anais; fellow motorhome travellers. Their stories from their travels so far wouldn’t have been half as exciting if they hadn’t taken risks and been bold
• Retreat – when we stopped to help out at the retreat centre in Italy, we not only worked, but we also had time out. Time to rest. Time to gather energy.
• Community – when we visited the artists’ community in Italy, there was acceptance of everyone; everyone was welcome and it was recognised that everyone could bring something to the table

These are just a few examples picked from myriad things that we’ve learned more about as we’ve travelled and they don’t even include the people we’ve met and the creative influences from Spain so far!

Probably most significantly though, we’ve learned a lot about marriage. Living together 24/7 in a small space, in foreign countries brings out the most extreme elements of personality. Whilst the process of learning about how best to interact with your spouse in every situation isn’t always fun(!), it’s drawing us closer. Every disagreement/argument results in us understanding the other person better, which makes our marriage stronger. It’s worth it.

So, whilst this trip may be outside my comfort zone, I’ve no regrets in doing it. It’s a massive learning experience for both of us, as well as a chance to be inspired creatively and there is no question that we’ll be able to use what we’ve learned when we move on to whatever it is that lies beyond this journey. I guess it goes back to the idea of a simple life not always being easy. But then again nothing in life that’s worthwhile is easy… is it?

You’ve got to love Catalunya. It’s a bit like Wales. Fiercely proud of their nationality, with their own flag, language and share of mountains. So, we crossed over the Pyrenees and stopped off in Figueres. I was a little wary about our stopping place for the night, outside the castle, as there was a big sign saying “NO VIGILAT”, so I wasn’t sure if we would be able to stay there. Turns out that this means that it’s not a monitored car park though… which local dog walkers, joggers, boy racers and… ummm… let’s say “lovers” seemed to take advantage of. It is a lovely place to wander though, with beautiful views all around.

Figueres gets a certain amount of its fame from Dali, so it would have been rude not to visit the Dali museum whilst we were there. At 12 Euros a ticket, it seemed a bit steep, but Kiri persuaded me that it would be worth that. Gosh, she wasn’t wrong. It’s incredible how you can have a whole museum filled with work by one artist that is so diverse. I have come to the conclusion that Dali was a total genius. From a pixelated painting that is designed to be seen properly by taking a photo of it, through to incredible photo-realistic painted drops of water, through to stereoscopic paintings, the evidence of a brilliant mind is clear to see. Now we’ve seen his take on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, we almost don’t need to see the real thing! What makes him even more of a genius in my eyes though is his utter weirdness. Who else would get away with a painting titled “Bed and two bedside tables ferociously attacking a cello”? Kiri’s take? Well, she’s always been a fan of his tight detail in paintings and took plenty of reference photos, but also she learned about some of his looser, freer work. Kiri’s not massively inspired by Dali’s installation art though… I’m inclined to agree!

From Dali to Gaudi (with a little encouragement from Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballé). Yes, Barcelona was our next destination. Leaving Bertha in a guarded car park a few blocks away from Sagrada Familia (thanks Jason + Julie!) we wandered through the rainy streets. Now we’ve both been to Barcelona before, so it was interesting to see how it has changed and how Sagrada Familia has grown. Kiri was there 4 years ago on a family holiday, whilst my previous experience was altogether a little different. Talk about surreal…I was last there 10 years ago with my university barbershop group, where we spent 3 or 4 days wandering around in dinner suits (+ masks), busking in various spots around the city. It was good to revisit these “familia” spots (sorry) as we wandered, but it was even better to get inside a cafe and treat ourselves to a beautiful silky, thick, Spanish hot chocolate with churros. Heaven in a cup!

The following day we headed up to Parc Guell (the Gaudi park) to start our day of wandering and I was outraged that you now have to pay to visit parts of it. Deciding that it wasn’t worth 7 Euros each, we admired the mosaics, organic stone structures and guards from afar. Wonder what Gaudi would make of it? After being spectators of a game of boules, we ate our packed lunch on a bench, then headed for La Rambla once again. It’s strange how the weather can turn it from a deserted street to one packed with people… so we headed off-piste to find some exciting alleyways. There’s only so much walking that you can do in a day though, so in order to keep Kiri occupied I told her tales of the giant gorilla that there is in Barcelona. She didn’t believe me… and after half an hour of walking to try to find it, I was beginning to not believe me. When we finally arrived at the place I thought it was, it turned out to be a giant mammoth, not a gorilla. It’s strange how your memory can play tricks on you!

Only one thing could make up for such a misleading detour. But sadly, we couldn’t find any cake, so we opted for seafood paella instead. Good call. It was crammed with mussels, languistines, little squid, calamari and what we think was cuttlefish… in any case, it was fresh, tasty and beautiful. Wowsers!

We caught another glimpse of Sagrada Familia as we headed back to Bertha and pondered what state it will be in when we next come to Barcelona… maybe next time we’ll fork out to go inside? After another night in the guarded car park, it was time to hit the road again… maybe aiming for a stop a little less urban next time?

Carcassonne. What a great game. Almost as good as Settlers. Maybe? Well, this was also the last place in southern France that we wanted to visit before hitting Spain. Rather than going straight there from the Verdon Gorge, we decided to amble around the coast, spending a night in Arles, then a windy night next to a beach. We’d not planned to stop there overnight, but when we pulled up for lunch, we decided that as it was such a nice spot, we’d stay for longer.

Before we get on to talking about Carcassonne, we’ve got to mention flamingoes. We hadn’t really expected to see flamingoes on the trip, so when we first spotted them, Kiri got a little excited. Actually, that’s probably an understatement. Kiri got VERY excited. You’ll have to wait until the video of this part of the trip to fully appreciate the excitement level (if it makes the final cut!), but I would go as far as to say it was significant excitement (and from my days as a data analyst, I don’t use the word “significant” lightly!). Sadly there was nowhere near any of the flamingoes to stop Bertha and take photos, so this the best shot(!) taken as Bertha sped(!) past them.

So, Carcassonne. A great fortified medieval city. A cracking board game. A cracking book (Labyrinth by Kate Mosse). A cracking visit? Well, in some ways, yes, but in some ways, no. As a place, it is stunning and well worth a visit. If you’re into your history of knights and castles it’s fascinating to wander around the walls and get a feel for how protected it is. Sadly though, the myriad shops and restaurants inside the city don’t feel as if they’ve been set up sensitively. You expect a little bit of tourist tat in any place like that, but it seemed to be choking the soul of the city. I’m sure that it’s not necessary to have 3 museums of torture within a tiny city like that. So whilst it was worth a visit, it didn’t really float our boat (and not just because the moat has no water in any more).

The following morning, we set off before breakfast, as we would have to pay extra for the car park we’d stayed in overnight if we had left after 8am. As it was, the barrier was up (unexpected bonus!), so we didn’t even have to pay for the previous day in the car park either. After breakfast on the road, we headed for a little village a short drive away, as we’d read that there was a motorhome stop there with good facilities, including free electric hookup. As it turned out, none of the facilities were operational, but we decided to stay anyway and have a chilled day. We’re glad we did, as we saw our first British motorhome of the trip (imagine that; our 83rd day in mainland Europe, and our first British motorhome). We exchanged a polite “hello” with the owners, talked a little about the weather, then wished each other safe travelling. How very British.

And then on the road towards Spain. We emptied our toilet in the next village along in some public loos (we think we were allowed to…?) and set off towards the Pyrenees. Au Revoir France!

When one imagines the Italian Riviera, it’s a picture of sun, sea, boats and lots of people in lycra on bikes. Well, that’s a pretty accurate picture, but maybe with a little more rain in January! We did have a couple of glorious days as well as the rain though.

As we travelled along the coast, we had been told that if we were passing near to San Remo, we had to visit Bussana Vecchia. Some of the time, we do what we’ve been told, so we stopped for the night by a marina in Arma di Taggia then the following morning we drove to Bussana Nuovo (“new” Bussana) and parked Bertha. Our destination was a village that had been ruined in an earthquake in the late 19th century and subsequently abandoned. Then, in the 1960s a group of hippies moved in and started creating art there. Their legacy is an exciting half-ruined village filled with artists, which is best reached on foot.

Bussana Vecchia was right up our street; especially as it was so quiet (we imagine it’s busier in the summer). We enjoyed exploring the alleyways and thinking about how great it was that something that was once seen as worthless was now a place of beauty once more. As it was so small though, we did feel as if we were intruding, so we were almost ready to leave when we arrived at Ronald’s place. Now Julien + Anais had told us that we had to go to Ronald’s place (the only house in the village with a windsurf outside!). We summoned courage and wandered into the garden, where we met a British guy called Roger, a Swiss guy called Max, a dog called Bea and a goat with an identity crisis (she thought she was a dog too). The few hours that followed were some of the best of the trip so far.

Roger + Max explained some of the history behind Ronald’s place; how the vision was to set up a place where artists could come and live for free; sharing all resources and working together. We were invited to join them and stay with them for a while; if it hadn’t been for the fact there was nowhere to leave Bertha and our time constraints, we might well have. It was just such an inviting and exciting model of community. After sharing coffee, having a look round and showing Pablo (another resident artist) how to set up a playlist of Lou Reed songs on the computer(!) we headed to Roger’s house/studio down the hill.

It was great to share time with Roger; getting a measure of what makes him tick and seeing the passion when he talked about his ways of working. Often when you see art in a gallery, it can seem a little sterile, whereas we were seeing pieces that he was working on in their natural environment. It’s not often that you’re asked by an artist for your opinion on whether a piece is complete… that’s a very deep question with any art! We learned a lot from Roger, and I think that Kiri particularly got a lot from that meeting… and in fact the whole time in Bussana Vecchia. She had a revelation that I’m sure will not come as a surprise to anyone who knows her; she’s born to paint.

From there we floated to the border on petrol fumes, as French petrol is sooo much cheaper, before heading towards the Verdon Gorge; Europe’s response to the Grand Canyon. We took half a day to just pootle around the southern lip of the gorge; stopping at every opportunity to breathe in the natural beauty. It was a gorgeous (sorry) day; if it hadn’t been a little on the chilly side, you could have mistaken it for summer and the place was deserted. Aside from Bertha being hit by a fallen rock (it’s ok, she’s fine, but it’s a reminder that those warning signs are there for a reason!), it was a perfect day.

And so from here we move south; a few more days of France, then we’ll be in sunny Spain.

Apparently every motorhome on the planet (well, at least in Italy) goes to Florence for New Year. Who knew? Well, we didn’t! Arriving at our planned stop for the night, we were just maneouvering into a space, when we were asked if we had a reservation? A reservation? But we’re free spirits. We float with the wind, we stop to smell the flowers, we don’t do reservations! Sadly, they were full, so we ended up in what appeared to be an equally busy motorhome car park across the way, but charging 25% more per night. Doh.

What followed was a cultural day in Florence; we appreciated it more than Rome, even if we did have to queue for 3 hours to get into the Ufizzi Gallery! It was worth the wait though, even if it was just to hear Kiri utter the words:

I’m not sure that Boticelli had seen many naked women before painting ‘Venus’… the proportions are all wrong

In general, we probably appreciated some of the lesser-known artists’ work than the more famous pieces, although we were very intrigued by a Boticelli “Adoration of the Magi” which included a self-portrait as one of the people in the crowd. He did not look impressed! After a quick munch on our packed lunch, we enjoyed a leisurely wander around the city (particularly appreciating some of the personalised road signs) before we returned to Bertha for a risotto.

We knew we had to cross the mountains to get to Venice and we didn’t really want to pay tolls, so we chose the long and winding road that goes via Forli. Well, it’s only long and winding going over the mountains; we’ve never seen hairpin bends quite like it! Forli held a lovely reward though, in the form of some special offer Tallegio; quite possibly the greatest cheese in the world.

And so on to Venice. Having had the mishap with Florence parking, we checked online and found a campsite in Punta Sabbioni (handy for catching the water bus to Venice) which was open until the 10 January. A bit of a foggy fiasco followed (oooh, lovely alliteration there!). It turns out the internet is not always right. We arrived to find out that they closed on the 7 January. Which day did we arrive? Yes, 7 January. To cut a long story (involving fog, people wagging their fingers at us, and a potholed-car park) short, we decided to double back on ourselves to a campsite that was open… but all the way back past Venice. There’s a reason that we’re trying to avoid campsites… you don’t have this problem with car parks generally!

Venice. Aaah. We’re not city people, but if every city were like Venice, we would be. Yes, there are the touristy bits, but we purposefully wandered aimlessly. Is that an oxymoron? Maybe… basically I’m trying to say that we ignored the map and tried to wander randomly; discovering exciting little alleyways and beautiful piazzas. This approach did mean that we had a few issues trying to find somewhere for a coffee though. We ended up in Venice’s equivalent of Fawlty Towers, where we were given food we hadn’t ordered (before it was whisked away), then we were asked to move table, then when the people next to our new table said their wine tasted funny, the proprietor kept on repeating “best wine in the house”. I’d love to be able to tell you where it was… but I can’t, because I have no idea! We ended the day with a calzone each on the way back to the bus… which we found eventually after caving in and looking at the map.

What’s next? Well, we’ve got some gearbox oil for Bertha, after some very amusing interactions where I tried to speak Italian to mechanics. “Olio?”. “Cambio?”. “Trasmissione?”. Confused look. Look of realisation. Reply in English! Hopefully that will help Bertha to run more smoothly now. Italian Riviera, we’re on our way (albeit slowly!)

New Year; a time to look back on the past year and forward to the next. In the context of our travels, it’s quite useful to take stock, assess what’s happened so far and use that to plan what might be next. We’ve done a fair bit of assessment so far; especially after our breakdown, 1 week into the trip, but we’ve got some data to play with now to make more informed decisions.

Our mean mileage per day across the whole trip is (up to 6th Jan… so 70 days of life in Bertha) 54 miles per day. That doesn’t seem like a lot, but when you take out the days that we’ve been helping at a project (and therefore not travelling), that increases to 81 miles per day… still not masses.

Possibly the most useful data we’ve got is our cost data; where our money is going. When setting out, our budget was £1000 per month, to cover everything; petrol, food, tolls, entertainment… everything. We used cost data from Adam + Sophie and Jason + Julie to check that this wasn’t wildly optimistic… now’s the time we’re finding out! We’ve only got just over 2 months of data to work with, but our total expenditure in that time has come to about £1150 per month. By digging into the figures, we can see that we had a couple of non-standard costs; a breakdown (which cost £205) and ferry tickets from Greece to Italy (which cost £228). So if we ignore those, we’re well in budget (approx £900 per month).

However, we’ve been helping at projects for some of that time too (24 days), where we’ve (very kindly) not been charged for accommodation or food and we haven’t driven (so no fuel expenses). If we once again take out those days, and average out the costs, we have an average expenditure of approx £1450 per month. Now we’re not going on to any future projects with expectations of getting anything for free… so this could be an issue… but might not be.

So where’s the money going? In short, petrol and other transport costs (tolls, vignettes, ferries, buses, trains, breakdown) make up 65% of our outgoings. If we ignore the breakdown and ferry, it’s still 58% of our outgoings, with petrol alone making up well over a third of our outgoings, as Bertha’s only averaging 19mpg. Some costs are dependent on how far we travel, and some on how many days we’re travelling. It therefore makes sense to separate out the average costs into a cost per mile (for petrol and transport as those are dependent on how far we travel) and a cost per day (for everything that’s dependent on time on the road; overnight stays, food and drink etc). So, this is what we get:

Transport and fuel costs per mile: 34p (ignoring the breakdown + ferry)
Cost of living per day: approx £14
We’ve averaged approx 54 miles per day, so transport and fuel costs per day: approx £19
Total cost per day: approx £33

The one key thing that the data does not show is how much money we have saved by travelling in Bertha. As we are effectively carrying our home on our back, our total cost of overnight stay has been minimal. We can park up anywhere (within reason… and obviously only where legal!), cook ourselves a meal, then settle down for the night without spending a penny. How much are we saving on campsite and hostel fees? A stab in the dark guess would be £30 per night… if we’d had to pay that much per night, we would be well over budget by now. So whilst the other figures might suggest that a motorhome is not economical in terms of mileage, this added bit of information puts it into perspective.

We might be on track and on budget, but a little bit of us is uneasy about burning all of this fuel in such an inefficient manner. 19mpg isn’t much at all. And for our cost per day to stay the same, we can’t afford to break down again… which is almost inevitable in a vehicle as old as Bertha. Certainly food for thought!

To be continued…