The Camper Van Code

Today’s super cool guest post is from Heather Taylor. It’s always been one of my dreams to drive through Europe in a camper van and I’d be a liar if I said I was jealous of her amazing van ride through France! All you foodies will want to be sure to check out her blog since it is all about her world in food! She’s got a lot of great recipes and stories about traveling in a camper van. Be sure to check out her bio at the end of this post.

We knew our van, Charlie, might have been in trouble. We’d had a few false starts during our long journey from Leeds to southern France, and he’d always had issues with hills. But so far he had managed to take us beyond Dover’s white cliffs to the gaping gorges of the Ardeche, finally crawling towards the south coast. The van, once a humble Nissan Primastar used for lugging around building tools, was now our kitchen/living-room/bedroom, but recently our relationship with Charlie had begun to deteriorate.

We’d just spent three days exploring the craggy coastline of the Calanques, where walkers navigate slippery limestone paths with trepidation, all eager to drink in the beauty of the tiny beaches nestled below impenetrable cliffs.  As the Mediterranean heat and a distinct lack of funds started to become more of an issue, we decided to head back to the mountains in Chamonix to find work.

There was, however, the small problem that our van seemed a tad reluctant to start. A familiar feeling of dread crept over us as the engine stuttered unhealthily. With gritted teeth we tried again and again but it remained stubbornly stationary. We were parked in the pretty town of Cassis, which despite being charming, (a bustling market selling beautifully printed fabrics, glistening olives and ripened tomatoes; winding cobbled streets framed by eggshell- blue houses), was not  the most practical place to be during a van crisis. Not only was it punishingly hilly, there was no garage. We looked at each other in despair.

In the world of camping, there’s an unspoken communion between van dwellers, and when we spied another camper parked nearby we decided to test a theory that this could override all those years of poor English/French relations. The three Frenchmen’s camper made ours look more than a little bordel (“They’ve got a shower!” I exclaimed, “and you can stand up in it!”), but luckily they were sympathetic to our pleas, packing up their breakfast things and manoeuvring their colossal van next to Charlie in the hope that they could resuscitate his battery.

What ensued was a touching demonstration that people aren’t really so bad, as the men cheerfully set about finding their battery and connecting it to ours, joking about Wayne Rooney. They erupted when we told then we were Chamonix-bound; they too would be heading there the following day. After a few excruciating false starts, Charlie finally roared back to life. We knew we had to keep the engine running but wanted to thank the men. I mentally pictured the food we had stored in the van and wondered what a Frenchman’s reaction to a tin of corned beef would be, before remembering we had a solitary bottle of red wine and thrusting it into their reluctant hands. As we crawled towards Chamonix, the men bid us adieu and I was reminded of the decency of people willing to pack up their breakfast and help two young travellers and a battered looking van, no questions asked.

*Please remember all photos on this website, unless otherwise noted, are copyrighted and property of Beers & Beans Travel Website, Nariko’s Nest Wedding Photos & Bethany Salvon. Please do not use them without my permission. If you want to use one of them please contact me first because I do love to share and I would be flattered. Thanks!

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