So where have we been?

It has been days, if not weeks since I last updated.  I feel like it is an age, and yes – I am going to use the excuse that we simply haven’t been able to find internet, mainly I use that excuse because it is true.

The internet populous land of Estonia seems far away and in Latvia, passing along roads that are barely surfaced with lonely old women picking their own food on either side, the modern world could not seem further away.

After passing through the lovely city of Riga, with its grand buildings we start to get the feeling that it is, in fact, no greater than most European Cities, it seems to be missing the medieval splendour of Tallinn, the quaint feel of Stockholm or the veibrant alternative culture of Copenhagen.

After a night out on a few very reasonably priced beers and, in the warmth of an evening, watching young lovers dance to the live band I decide that I really didn’t care about how backward Latvia was, how I will probably be paralysed in the next few hundred kilometres of bad roads nor how certainly unscrupulous campsites mangage to turn just a few Lati into 20 euro, I really don’t care about that anymore.

We have ahd some real shi t-hit-fan times on this trip – the van breaking down, not being able to find places, the sat-nav having directed us in the almost complete opposite direction and so forth.  Yet every single time it seems like things are just destined to continue upon the road of pain, discomfort, misery and short tempers something comes along and makes everything ok.

It comes in just such a slight form, you allow yourself a little smile of recognition as suddenly you are in full realisation of the fact that you are many miles from home, in another country, another culture (and another bloody currency) and you find yourself attempting, in no more than five universal words and unlimited hand actions, nods, waves and expressions, to explain what we are doing and what the other person, sat on the table across from us is doing in this town, this bar, this moment.

That pretty much sums up our whole trip to this extent, Drive, have a few problems, loose where we are, eat, sleep, meet people, regale upon them our stories (which by now are approaching voluminous sizes) and listen to their stories, go for a few beers and start again.

A life that, on the whole does not sound exciting, but yet in a way it is.  From the morning to the evening we have no idea how our day is going to go, no idea what events lurk around the next hairpin bend that the sat-nav has decided is the fastest route for us, nor any idea as to what state the food will be when it is served from a small roadside cafe that does not have a menu in English, nor we have any idea what the food is, (it was delicious by the way, though the meat was quite possibly fried donkey.)

I know none of the above answers the question of where we are now.  We have also visited Warsaw and Berlin in the meantime, but all of this is seemingly inconsequential.  Buildings are buildings, streets are streets, we are glad that we have seen, no, experienced them – but truly we are all in search of that holy grail, those few minutes of learning about and from other people and then attempting to relay our story, perhaps the greatest challenge on this trip is being understood.

It’s only a matter of a few miles, in fact the country shares a border with it. But, whereas Estonia seems to have broken free and become rather westernized – in its own way – Latvia still seems to have Russia firmly attached to it.

Point number one is the roads.  Now Estonian roads are nothing to be proud of, but atleast they only provide a few (albeit continuous) vibrations they do not require you to swerve halfway across the road to miss a pothole through which you could probably see the internal goings-on of the world. It’s like a joke that has gone too far.

Another thing you may have noticed is the lack of Internet hotspots.  We have gone from a land that is completely full of places to connect to; petrol stations, parks, campsites even town squares and all of them handily sign-posted – to a land where we have so far passed one sign indicating that there was a hotspot available, only the cards we needed to buy to get access to the Internet were not in stock, nor had been for months.

Latvia seems to have come on little since the days of the USSR.  One noticeable difference is the currency.  For the first time on our trip, and I believe also for last, the currency is more valuable than that of the British Pound.  It isstrange not having to devide everything by 10 (Sweden) or 18 (Estonia) and instead having to times everything by 1.12.

This had caused us slight worry – wondering whether prices were going to reflect the strong currency.  Yet our arrival heralded a different story. Passing a petrol station (where many drivers will get an idea of how much things are) we saw a sign advertising fuel for just 0.60Lats for Diesel. After a quick fill up, which led to the only smile from me on the whole of the Latvian roads experience, we headed down to our stellplatz.

We passed small farmsteads and villages that could barely pass as such for mile after mile.  Not only does very little look as if it had changed since the USSR it looks as if nothing has changed for many centuries before this.

Unlike many Western European towns – where this lack of change would be seen as quaint – in Latvia it seems like a disease to which no answer has been found, windowless and roofless dwellings seem as much a part of the landscape as forests and lakes did in Scandinavia.

Upon reaching the outskirts of Riga we headed towards our supposed destination and rest place for the night.  Which didn’t exist.  At all, we drove for a few kilometres before stopping to check at another cheap fuel station, then drove back the 20 kilometres to where the woman had suggested it would be, only to find another fuel station where the woman had no idea, instead asking a man who, had he smoked, could have probably lit his breath on fire with the amount of alcohol he already had in his system – he, unsurprisingly had no idea where our place was, nor where he was as he clambered back into his clapped out Audi, with another bottle of strong cider clutched in his hand.

We also haven’t gotten rid of the rain yet, it has been following us since we decided to move off from Estonia.

We eventually abandon plan A and go for plan B, another stellplatz, back the way we had just gone whilst getting lost – atleast we had seen this place already.

Now I don’t know about you, but when you order food and it comes out of the invisible kitchen and looks better than you thought it also seems to taste better. And when my steak with field mushroom sauce and french fries appeared on the table I honestly thought it could be the meal of the gods.

One thing going for Latvia is that even late at night, when you are absolutely shattered and have been unable to find anywhere, the place you do find is pleasant and the chef can cook an awesome meal, I mean it is 11pm and there seems to be no end to the food service, nor the German folk music coming out of the speakers on the small stage in the corner.  Luke and I are worried that another Karaoke night may be happening shortly, linger around just long enough for a glorious ice cream and head back to the van.

The two and a half litre heart of our van never starts first time, it is a precise calculation to get the clutch in, and the gas pedal in the perfect position before the old girl finally roars into life.  It is a practice that Luke and I have been doing since we broke down in Sweden, but one that still cause us a little agitation and worry.

We left Tallinn on a perfectly Sunny day and headed south, our first stop was to be in a large campsite, bury deep in the forests that shroud that west coast of this small nation.

From there we are headed to Parnu, a port town, sitting in its own natural bay with an impressively wide river running right through it.

The roads in Estonia are most probably not this country’s greatest accomplishment, nor is the reserved nature of most people and the way that they stare – but that may have to do with the fact that we are driving a bright red van, with British number-plates and that the driver is sat on the wrong side, not to mention the fact that the “LDV Convoy” badge is hardly ever seen by most Europeans.

We found out though that this reserved nature and staring is not all that Estonian townsfolk are about.

An evening hunt for a meal led us into a small restaurant, sitting just below ground level, though with an appetising menu and full tables.

Our entrance was noted by a tall man in beige, beige trousers, beige shirt, beige sandals.  We have – to this day – no idea if he was actually connected in any way to the restaurant, yet he motioned us towards a table near the bar and delighted in telling us that his step father was from an unpronounceable place in Wales.  Eventually, after some careful listening and countless repetitions we found out that it was Aberystwyth, see totally unpronounceable!

We were then served up a cup of tea (well we are English, so it was only natural to give the English people tea) and waited for the menu’s to arrive.

Which is where it all went wrong.

A group of men, probably about late 30′s, all wearing the typical leather jackets and jeans, that seems to be a fashion left here from previous days, entered the restaraunt.

The younger of the men walked over to the centre table and picked up a microphone.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen we had found ourselves a karaoke night.

This seems to be the latest craze  – from the ferry across to Tallinn to almost every second bar everyone wants a piece of the action, if only singing lessons had been part of the soviet education program then perhaps Luke and I would be spared this horrific ordeal, for none can sing – of course that’s part of the fun of Karaoke they say.

But what stupendifies me is that these people, whom on the street are so reserved, quiet and usually avoid eye contact, unlike many other European nations, yes these people just walk into a bar and without so much as a sip of a beer are willing to stand up and sing in front of everyone.

Of course it is late now and the chances of getting any food here are growing ever more remote so Luke and I head off in another direction.

Looking round the streets of Parnu gives you an insight into the crazy nation that is Estonia, there is not so many modern buildings as there are in the capital of Tallinn, but just enough that you realise that this is a country on the up.  A few small reminders still linger from years past that are now simply nothing more than quirky reminders of a bygone era – although it is still slightly strange that a “long established business” here still advertises itself as being set up in only 1992, a fact highlighted by Estonia’s oldest pub, the “Hell Hunt – since 1992″

I have fallen in love with Estonia’s weirdness, but you will not see me on the karaoke machine for a few more years… or a few more beers.

Well it is now time to breath some life into our express delivery van, as we are off to Riga, in yet another new country… Latvia.

After a few more hours sleep and a long shower, our ferry deposited us on the shores of Finalnd.

Although I swear to you it felt as if we had never left land. The Stockholm archipelago, consisting of some 24,000 islands, kept close company to us throughout the first part of the journey, then after a small crossing of completely empty sea, it was back through an archipelago on the Finnish side.

All of this meant that our journey was incredibly smooth,  In fact the Baltic Ocean has been incredibly flat wherever we have been near it’s shores.  This ocean is so tucked away that it does not have a tide.  It’s incredible ice blue waters seem to invite you in at every chance, though those that take the chance at this time of year must ensure that there is a sauna nearby to survive without getting hypothermia.

We headed into Turku, the old Finnish capital during the time when the Swedes owned most of the lands we have travelled through.

We’re hoping to get a hostel here and join what looks like a parade of boiler suited students.  This is actually their “drinking dress” and it allows them to do silly stuff such as rolling in the grass and getting covered in beer without destroying any of their normal clothes.  I think this throws the Finnish hurtling into first place for practical yet crazy Scandinavians.

Unfortunately all of the hostels are booked, the campsites are shut at this hour and we have little choice but to roll on towards the heady lights of Helsinki.

It is late at night by the time we arrive at our hostel in Espoo, a late night made later by the fact that we have jumped another time zone, now being two hours ahead of London – oh and it is only just getting dark at half past 11.  Which is really screwing with our body clocks.

THe next morning brings a day of just chilling out, enjoying the brilliantly beautiful beaches of Espoo and the Baltic Coastline, the pine trees add an exotic, almost meditterainean feel the just seems out of place in a country where there are only two months that are called “summer”.  The sandy beaches also look out of place, it is only the giant rocks, seen strewn about the landscape and forming cliff edges and formations almost everywhere (our hostel has a roundabout around one such rock in the car park, it’s just too big to be moved), yes – it is only these that remind you that you are in a country more used to snow than sun.

After a day of doing, well not much really, we head into the city of Helsinki.  We took the van.  Not a good idea.  Sat Nav does not cope with small streets.  We do not cope with cobbles.  Van does not cope with tight corners.  We all fall out, but make amends once we find a cool car park.  Apart from the Sat Nav, that has got a lot of apologising to do.

The first thing that surprises us about Helsinki is the incredible, imposing and – in this sunlight – bloody reflective, Cathedral.

It sits up on a plinth, it’s own small plateau in the rising above the streets of Helsinki and commands every tourist to climb the seemingly endless amount of steps up to it.

The interior is lavishly decorated with gold dripping down from every chandelier and up from every candlestick.  It is in stark contrast to the red building sitting on the other side of the river.  The Orthodox Cathedral looks very formal, though its own imposing power is most definitately there, it does not command such a large square or plinth for itself.

We are meeting up with another person from Couchsurfing.org.  This website is a must for travellers, we have found so many different people already and always had a good time.

Sara meets us outside of the white Cathedral and takes us across on yet another boat to the small island of Suomenlinna, literaly translated to Finnish Fortress.

There are two sides to this place.  One is the newer looking Russian side, with small garrisons, shops and other administrative wooden huts dotted around.  Across a small wooden bridge is found the much grander and larger castle.  Our view of this is distracted though by the hot weather and the view of the Baltic, so blue, lapping against a small sandy beach and our destination is set.

The afternoon passes us almost without saying a word, then Luke and I return the van to the youth hostel (sat nav is still in the dog house) and travel back into Helsinki by bus, for tonight is Eurovision night and Luke, Sara and I have a date with a large tv screen and a large, cold beer.

Yes, travellers always want food.  Any kind of food.  Doesn’t matter what it is  as long as someone else has prepared it and is doing the washing up then we are fine.

So when we were told about a ferry crossing between Sweden and Finland that included an all you can eat breakfast buffet, followed by an all you can eat evening buffet, it did not take us long to decide that this was the crossing for us!

So off we headed for the little “village” of Kappelskar.

When I say village, I mean literally Kappelskar is just the port.  That’s it.  Nothing else really.

But still, we managed to find a campsite, plug in the electric heater and get warm.  And get out of Sweden.

We have nothing against Sweden in general, the country is beautiful, the people welcoming and friendly and we have had a lot of… experiences… it is just that since we have arrived in Sweden we have had nothing but rain, the van has broken down and we had a nightmare trying to find somewhere to stop in the van.  Atleast somewhere that has electric and the waste facilities we needed.

It had felt like we were in Sweden for ages, despite it just being over a week.

Perhaps it was just our timing or perhaps it was just bad karma, what ever it was we were looking forward to our brunch buffet!

Our 8 hour ferry would take us from Sweden, to Nantalli in Finland, just north of Turku – once the capital of Finland.

We had booked a cabin, which had cost us only 20 swedish krona extra and it was well worth the money, within half an hour of boarding Luke and I had showered, eating our own body weight at the buffet and were now fast asleep in our cosy cabin…

Ferry Costs

We travelled with Finnlines from Kappelskar to Nantalli

They have three sailings per day; 09:15, 17:30 and 23:00

The morning ferry is the cheapest, you do not have to book, but turn up early to make sure you can get a place.

Our ticket cost us 1800 SEK, including a 2 person cabin on the inside

It’s Friday, we are all fully recovered after a relaxing stopover at Del’s place and from this campsite, situated right on the edge of a lake.

We are ready to tackle the onslought that will be Stockholm, a complete weekend of meeting people (via couch surfing), walking around, having a look at what is going on and so on.

For once we are actually up reasonably early (about 9 am – ok well it is early for us!) The bright red van is packed, ready to go, we’ve got 50 litres of fresh water and nothing stopping us from the 300kilometre journey that will take us to the vibrant capital of this strange country.

I say strange country and actually I do mean it.

Sweden is probably one of the few countries where they almost “expect” you to visit at only certain times.  Every person we have met says that we should come back in the summer, apparently the biggest party is the midsummer celebrations, where the partying continues into the next morning, noon and even night.

Yet, travelling at this time of year we have seen not many campervans about really and the few youth hostels we have looked into are only open if you have booked them, not the “rock up and book in” type of hostels that exist almost everywhere else I have been.

These issues were about to play havoc with us.

So stockholm yer – er no, well maybe not right away.

We usually have to muck around a bit to get the van started, using a bit of full throttle and patience, but she will eventually start.  But not this time.  There was nothing.  The battery was turning the engine over but the engine just didn’t want to kick in.
Phone call number 1… breakdown company to arrange a truck and techie to come out to us.

Luckily for us the campsite guy seems to know what he is doing with engines, the old (antique) volvo digger in the background takes about 30minutes to start he tells us as, dressed already in workman’s overalls, he heads straight under the bonnet of our stricken van.

After some prodding, poking and more attempts to start the van we have completely exhausted our battery, but our man in blue overalls thinks that it is most probably air in the fuel system – I had changed the fuel filter just a day ago and, although she started first time then, it seemed to be the causing a problem now.

Phone call number 2… What is an LDV Convoy?
Of course once I had rung my breakdown company and told them I was broken down abroad they had transferred my “file” to their european call centre, who had no idea what an LDV Convoy is, strangely enough not many people outside of the UK have – it had already caused a stir amongst the repair garage in Germany, from where we had bought the fuel filter.

So after trying their systems one final time we (the lovely sounding Emily and I) decided it would be easiest to call it a Ford Transit, as that is the engine we have.

The campsite guy returns now with a battery charger and promptly plugs in the van before heading off to help an older couple with their awning – is there no end to this man’s talents?

Phone Call number 3… Ok Mr Gardner, we have a truck on it’s way to you, but where are you?

Yes – I have no idea how that can work either, but between a few postal codes, Nei’s (no) and Ja’s (Yes), from the campsite guy-turned-navigation-system and the lovely Emily looking on Google maps we manage to find our precise location, down to the last tree.

Around half an hour later the truck arrives, almost as red as our van – but not quite, our campsite guy has now turned into translator and is explaining as well as helping the techie from the recovery firm.

Both conclude that it is probably air in the pipes and that – with a bit of persuasion, a jumpstart from the truck and a heap of luck that the van should eventually turn over.

An hour of fiddling, a half hour of looking and fifteen minutes of head scratching later and we are still not moving, nor starting and with the weather having turned from a fairly fine morning into and afternoon of rain that would embarass even the most powerful of showers it was decided that the van will have to go to the workshop.

Now this would be fine if we were in England, most workshops are open until 5pm on a Friday, and probably open saturday morning at least, alas we are not in England, we are in Sweden – meaning that the workshop has already shut and that it will not be open until Monday morning… Crap.

The journey to the workshop takes us into the town of Skovde… pronounced “Hurvdur” apparently.

Chatting to our recovery driver on the way it turns our that he is a busy man.  His normal job is in a factory that makes shop furniture, most notably for the UK retail chain “Next”. He is also a fireman whenever his pager goes off and the recovery driver every third weekend and he has an interest in classic American cars, owning a Pontiac himself, although my memory fails me as to which.

Phone Call number 4… Mr Gardner, we were just wondering how things were going with your car…

Well yes, that was that, we had no van until Monday, we had gathered a few belongings, plus our sleeping bags and headed out of the workshop (which was being locked up) and into the Preem fuel station around the corner where we took up temporary residence.

We find a seat in the Preem shop and grab a quick coffee, the friendly attendant informs us that some of the small packets of sweets on the font of the des are “free samples”, but she had that look in her eye that just seemed to say it all, pity.  Still Ihave never been one to pass up a free bag of sweet goodness and dig into a meatball baguette, that unfortunately wasn’t free.

Phone call number 5… Mr Gardner, we have checked your policy and you have a hire car available, will you be needing it?

Well hell yer – the same thing applies to free cars as it does to sweets, offer it to me and I will take it.  After double checking the location of the Preem garage the lovely Emily tells us that our car will be here shortly, I jokingly ask for a Ferrari, knowing full well that the Toyota Yaris that I am entitled to will not be the most thrilling ride in the world.

Phone Call number 6… Mr Gardner, Emily here, your Saab will be here shortly…

My What?!  How on earth did… that’s not a Toyo… don’t ask questions, just accept. OK I say and await our luxury car (and yes, in comparrison to an LDV convoy anything is luxury, but this was like proper nice.

A few minutes later the guys and gal from Avis turn up with a gleaming Saab 95 Turbo, running on Ethanol… certainly have to remember that when we fill up.

Somehow Luke and I have turned into a family of four with a heap of luggage, and I, dear readers, am now mysteriously Dr Gardner.

I told you “Emily” was lovely…

So off we shoot towards the vibrant capital of this strange country – well we will do once I stop reaching down the wrong side for the gear stick, Luke is worried that at some point I will just open the door and eject myself whilst reaching for 4th gear.

That’s all folks, till the morning!

So after arriving a long day touring around Copenhagen, followed by touring round the Viking museum, followed by driving around heading north and all the rest of it – we were glad of the break offered to us by Del, a friend of my parents – who used to babysit me apparently.

We took the chance to catch up on some washing (very much needed) and some comfortable sofa’s! It also gave me the cahnce to catch up a bit with things on this here blog.

So – what is Sweden like as a tourist destination.

Well, it certainly is worthwhile trying to make your trip in the summer months of July-August.  Everyone talks of the massive parties and just lively atmosphere that seems to swell in Sweden, and in particular the region of Skane in the summer.

We came up to Sweden because we thought arriving before the high season would mean cheaper campsite fares (it does) but the down side is that we have got worse weather than we had back in England!  Rain and Wind, and bloody viious wind at that!

The other thing we have found hard to find in Sweden is somewhere to empty our waste water and fill our clean water ( ver- & ensortung).

We were spoiled for choice in Denmark with tha stations being placed at every motorway service station, but in Sweden we seem to have lost them completely and this is compunded by our innability to lay our hands on the much coveted Nordic Camping Guide, which gives directions to all of these stations and more.  No campervan dealer, motorway service station, fuel stop o camp site seems to have a copy, though they have all heard of it.

I am starting to think that there is a conspiracy going on….

Moonlit Beach @ Karlskrona

Random Shots from Driving through Sweden

We have decided that the city of Copenhagen is not to be missed, but might also be one in which the van might be a pain to manoeuvre. So we decide upon travelling a bit closer to Copenhagen and so, on yet another warm and sunny day, we pack up and move around 40km north east to a quiet stellplatz near the town of Munke Bjergby.

After negotiating some of the crazy danish lanes we arrive at a small bungalow, behind which a grassy field plays host to one other campervan, a british one at that.

After a bit of van cleaning (including our bug-splattered windscreen) we head off to the local shop/ petrol station/ motor factor/ drinks market and buy some necessities for our evening meal and a litre of oil for the wagon, she appears to be finding this travel malarky a bit of hard work.

Our british next-van-neighbour has a different campsite guide to us, and points out that there is a stellplatz in the nearby larger town of Ringsted, which has a direct rail connection to Copenhagen, beating Munke Bjergby’s walk, bus, walk, bus, train configuration by a country mile.

A look on Google maps tells us that we are now at the same latitude as Glasgow in the UK, which is just incredible.  Here we are, sunbathing, at the start of May and as far north as Glasgow, you would think we were somewhere just slightly south of Mexico with the weather as it is.

Ah, that last sentence has jinxed me, there are now some devilish looking clouds heading our way!

Hi guys and girls, well my planned updates did not work, so here I will try again, the updates are currently a week behind our tour, but over the course of a few days we will all be back on schedule, of course that is if everything goes to plan, which it invariably won’t.  That is all part of the adventure of course!

After stocking up on a few things in Germany (where things are a weee bit cheaper) we headed across the border to the country of Denmark.

We were headed for a place called Dalby, on the isle of Lyo, the middle of the three main parts of Denmark. Our journey took us through some tiny roads, with the van only just fitting round some of the corners and a few blind summits that has us praying that nobody was coming the other way!

Once we reached Dalby we were greeted warmly at a very plush looking campsite, which is not the 50DKK stellplatz we were looking for.

The campsite attendant informs us that he has no knowledge of the stellplatz and that we aren’t the first to call him about it.  It would appear that are usualy accurate Stellplatz Bordatlas has let us down, which is actually a complete first!

After refusing the polite offer of a place for only 220DKK (about 5 times our budget) we moved off to the nearest place available in the harbour town of Skaelskor.

The journey took us over the first of two major bridges in Denmark, between Lyo and Zealand.  We had heard from other campervaners that this bridges are incredibly expensive and prepared ourselves for a hefty 500krone fee, but at just 212krone we were pleasantly surprised!

It would appear that Danish bridges work out the price on length more than weight or height of the vehicle, so our smaller van (when compared to other “proper” campervans) has once again come up trumps and saved us a few bob.

Once across the bridge we headed south, by this time it was getting dark and we find out that our light beam adjusters (The UK drives on the left, Europe on the right – so headlamp adjusters have to be fitted) are not fitted correctly and neaither of our headlamps is spreading much light on the road.

The sat-nav dumped us out at the entrance to the harbour, where we found a spot and promptly turned in for the night, it had been rather tiring driving all them blasted lanes!

We were woken at some ungodly hour, early in the morning by the trendy harbour master with his sunglasses perched on his baseball cap, bluetooth ear piece in, and designer stubble trimmed to perfection. In well versed English he extracted 90krone from us and pointed us to a spot where we would be less “in the way” and be able to plug into electric.

The sunny weather is still tagging along with us for the ride so we set off in best summer-tourist wear for the Skaelskor Touritst Information Centre…

more tomorrow, one is quite tired, it is 12am!  must sleep!

I had a reply on my last post about Budgets from experienced traveller and blogger Lissie from Budget 4wd Travel.

Lissie raised some very good points regarding servicing of the van etc.  In fact there were enough questions for a post, so a post I shall write!

So from here on in Lissie’s comments are in the Block quotes and my answers are below.

I’d say the main thing you are missing – and the biggest risk is maintenance – curently spending A$1500 on torque converter for said 4wd (yes we still have it!).

We’re lucky enough that the van is fairly new (2004).  Of course the downside of this is that there’s a lot that we cannot fix if it did go wrong, most of the injection timing and stuff like that is all controlled by the Engine Management computer and they are damn expensive.

We do have some other spares we will take with us (I used to work for a magazine for the automotive repair trade – it’s not what you know but who you know when it comes to getting things for a good price).

Tyres wear out, etc. We did do 35,000km in 6 months though – you get that in Australia! You should service a diesel every 5000km to – its really a bad idea to miss this (they are less forgiving than petrol in this)

The tyres should last us for atleast 7500 miles, they will be replaced at  the start of the trip if they don’t look like they will.  We will also take two spare tyres (full size) in case of punctures or blowouts.

Fiat Panda, 1.3 Diesel!

As for servicing every 5000km – I’d disagree.  Modern diesels (Like Ford’s 2.4litre Duratorque that powers the LDV) should be able to last 12000 miles between servicing, obviously more often increases longevity and economy etc. I’m not sure if Australia have the same kind of diesels as we do in Europe, I know in America they are seen as slow and sluggish but in Europe diesel powers just about as many cars as petrol.  There is even a small diesel unit for the Fiat Panda!

In pratice you will need to regionalise your budget – you cant spend your average in Bulgaria and expect to spend the same in Sweden LMAO. We budgeted on a weekly basis – cause stuff averges out. What about interent and phones – internet adds up trust me on this!

We are looking at this.  One of the reasons we went for the same costs acros the board is due to weighing up living costs.  In Sweden and Norway etc we can camp for free in layby’s and even out in the wild, so our nightly costs will be nearly nothing, meaning that we can shift some of our 55GBP daily budget aroundfor food or activites.

In Eastern Europe, although we can camp for free, we will not be doing so.  This is due to security, many campervanners have tales of being woken in the night by people robbing them, or even just stealing the whole van whilst they are in the back in bed!

Using guarded campsites does not come cheap though – about 20euro a night minimum, of course this is offset by cheaper activities and food costs.

On the flipside to all that though I quite agree with Lissie’s comment.  It is hard to know what things will cost until we get there, and then budgets can be properly set.  Different countries may have different costs and different regions certianly will.

We set out our budget just to get an idea of our trip’s cost. It’s a kind of “worst case scenario” or “most expensive scenario”.  Once we get underway I am sure we will chop and change things and almost completely rewrite the book.

As for internet and phones – we will only be taking a mobile with us for emergencies.  Again down to costs.  As for Internet, we will be relying on internet cafes in cities, in most youth hostels you can find a pc with internet (free) and on campsites we will be hoping for wi-fi access or again a pc and internet.

You can see Lissie’s post from her travels by clicking  on this link : How much will a budget trip around Australia cost? Part 1: Day to Day Costs I really do appreciate everyone’s comments, and I hope Lissie doesn’t think I am just disagreeing with her! lol.

I hope all the rest of you find these articles useful.  Are there any other tips that you guys want to know about?