(Almost) Born Camping
We kicked off at the earliest age. The 'rents bought a "bungalow tent" (one of those big old frame ones) and a trailer, attached it to our Vauxhall Viva, and off we went. My earliest memory is actually sleeping on my mother's lap in Austria as the road in front of us was washed away in one of those terrible Alpine summer storms. It was 1973: I was two. We were on the way back from Yugoslavia. This was quite adventurous stuff back then: we needed a special visa.
All my childhood we camped: it was cheap, it was outdoors, and my parents took us all over continental Europe. I'd go so far as to say it was absolutely formative for me - my love of languages, history, travel, people of different cultures, all come from here. Travel changes lives: something I believe with a passion.
VW Viking
On 14 April 1978 Dad came back to Germany from London with our new "Volkswagen Viking" motor caravan. The date is etched in my memory. It had a pop up roof where four could sleep: downstairs there was another double bed. We three boys had been allowed to pick the colour - what a silly decision - we went for bright screaming orange with a brown and orange tartan interior. Hehe. It *was* still the 70s I guess.
The first trip out with the Viking was utterly shite. "Organised" Army Dad had made a check-list of everything that had to be packed. We ended up in the Harz Mountains in Germany over the sodden Whitsun weekend of 1978. Absolutely everything was closed and we'd forgotten the matches. No way of lighting the hob, no warm food, no heat - we ended up borrowing a match from a solitary smoker in a car park. I huddled in the pop up roof, in my little red sleeping bag, with my stuffed rabbit, eating a pot noodle. "Matches" went to the top of the checklist for future trips.
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| Our beloved VW Viking. I'm at the front on the stool |
We took the Viking everywhere: a 4 week tour of Italy, all the way from the north of Germany right down to Sorrento taking in Venice, Rome, Naples, Pompeii, Pisa, Florence and the Lakes. On our various holidays we went along single lane mountain roads through the Dolomites, across to Spain, through Austria and Switzerland, and all over Holland and France with the Viking. "Highlights" of our trips included big bro Alan shoving a fish hook through his finger in Venice and having to be rushed to hospital... and Dad burning the pies which were our supper, and throwing them in a stream somewhere close to the Rhine. They're probably still floating somewhere in the North Sea.
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| Capri: great sunhats, thanks Mutti *dies of embarrassment* |
Ooooh get us: finally, a caravan!
Next we moved on to a caravan: a brand new 1982 Hobby 440T ADX. The "T" stood for "toilet room". That was DEAD posh. It also had double glazing, a proper sized fridge, heating, an extractor fan, and could be used during German winters. I was obsessed with caravans. At the age of two I'd apparently crawled into an elderly English couple's caravan in Rimini and sat there with a vacuous big smile on my face. (A position I still frequently assume today, though I don't obvs need a caravan as an excuse.)
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| Our first caravan: Hobby ADX with space for a plastic bog! |
YES, caravans are naff. I know it, okay? I've heard all your endless complaints about being stuck behind the things in the West Country, I know it's about as socially acceptable as voting Tory or buying the Daily Mail (shock: many caravan owners do both). But I *loved* our caravans!
German caravans are of course infinitely superior to English ones and we had four Hobbys in total: a 460T Prestige, a 535T Prestige, and a 520TQM Classic..* I even worked in the Hobby marketing office in Schleswig-Holstein in my year off before university. It was a (somewhat tragic) dream come true for me.
Finally my parents committed treason by buying an English caravan instead - a Swift. I spit on its dirty little aluminium memory and came pretty darn close to disowning them. Fortunately I was living in London by this stage and the tragedy of having to see it parked in the drive was not therefore inflicted on me on a daily basis.
Mr Bean on Holiday
One day in 2002 I forced best friend Dominic to come to the Camping and Caravan Show at Earl's Court with me. He's probably still in therapy. Let's say he doesn't quite get this particular obsession of mine and camping isn't exactly his idea of fun. Sitting there at the show, attracting quite a lot of attention was a brilliant new silver tear drop of a caravan: a T@B (Click on Link!). It's was a brand new retro 1950s design, by German manufacturer Tabbert. They are the undisputed "top end" of the caravan world (I actually noted how many of their full-sized models were at Dale Farm: if it's your home, the quality matters even more).
The interior - I'm not joking - was pure Conran: cherry wood, plain classy cream upholstery. I bought one on the spot on my credit card. "Hedwig" as I christened her was a perfect match for my red Mini. (NAME DROP: Jasper Conran actually later sat inside it with me and was quite complimentary. Another friend said it looked like a giant Ikea dustbin, but he can sod off.)
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| SO CUTE: my "toy sized" car and caravan combo, 2003 |
I am of course a massive homosexual. Hedwig therefore was kitted out with a little DVD player, crystal classes, goose down quilt, Egyptian cotton sheets, an array of A&F clothing, WMF cutlery, Harvey Nicks washing up liquid, Cowshed toiletries, a Prada washbag... I even found a set of designer taupe melamine crockery. We have plentiful stereotypes to uphold, naturally.
I took my little silver caravan all across the UK and the Continent - such wonderful trips. People *actually* laughed, smiled and waved at me as I and the dog drove by looking some kind of deranged, but very happy, Mr Bean on holiday. Did I care? :D
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| Oscar enjoying the view top of the Simplon Pass, 2007 |
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| Back to canvas! Part of a 4500 mile Euro-road trip in 2009 |
What's the Attraction?
So *what* is so great about this camping thing then? I guess it's very happy memories of childhood. It's being able to explore and move from place to place. It's experiencing places at an absolute fraction of the cost of staying in a hotel. It's the fresh air - there's nothing like waking up to country air, particularly under canvas. It's the sociability - people on camp sites talk to each other in a relaxed, friendly way that they wouldn't in any other context. It's the ability to go hiking from your "door" up in the mountains in Switzerland - or to swim in a lake in Italy that you're looking out onto from your tent. It's incredibly informal: shorts and polo shirts are the main thing I pack when I go away. It's the rain on the roof of the caravan or on the canvas when you're tucked up inside.
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| Camping Des Glaciers, Verbiers. Yeah. Beat that. |
Yes, I love my fancy schmanzy designer hotels too and have been to enough of them: but camping really holds an equally great attraction for me too. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea: but for me... bring it on.
* Of course another massively great thing about caravans is playing the "spot the naff name" competition on road trips. My top 6 of all time are:
- the Bailey Unicorn (WTF - how does a big white box on wheels look like a unicorn?)
- the Elddis Crusader Typhoon (actual huh?!?)
- the Eriba Troll Manhattan (whaaaat?)
- the Swift Challenger (bed fellow of the "Swift Conqueror")
- the Tabbert Imperator (Flash Gordon?)
- and the Ace Ambassador (Ferrero Rocher :))
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