It’s not what most people hope for when they go wandering off travelling, yet it is an essential part of any experience.

Yes – as a Englishman I honestly could tell you whether rain is wet or dry – heavy or light (not as in how much rain, but as in whether each drop is heavy or light) and countless other measurements, for that is pretty much the weather forecast in England.

We may as well have our forecasters stand there and just say – at some point this week it will most probably rain, then – should a week pass without rain we are suddenly alerted to the fact that global warming is about to happen, all hell breaks loose as hose-pipe bans are introduced, water butts arrive in streets and there is not a water bottle left on the shelves of Tesco’s.

I have little idea of where this entry is going really, except to say that it is raining here in Prien am Cheimsee, and it has coated the alps that haunt the view out of our door in a strange forboding darkness.

Which is just bloody awesome.

Berlin, in a converted LDV Campervan, in glorious sunshine – had we really made it here in one piece, had the van really made it here?  And was that really sun?  The monstorous rainclouds that had shortened our stay in Warsaw were now a cause of constant worry.

The LDV Convoy is not a van that many people would think of when somebody mentions the word “quality”.  Really it isn’t.  In fact when it rains as hard as it did in Warsaw you really start to notice that the builders of this van were quite possibly distracted by, well, anything and everything else.

For Luke and I can both actually see the road out the bottom of the doors, yes – we really can, not only does this let in some very cold air, but also allows a certain amount of rainwater to, well, splash in.  Creating a puddle within the footwell on each door, hence our escape from Warsaw was made even more pertinent when we saw the size of the puddles, and the amount of water entering the van turned from trickle to torrent.

So onwards to Berlin it was.  The city that was, for most of the last century divided into two sections, that of the allies and that of the Soviets.

It is hard nowadays to tell which part of the city is which, modern buildings have sprung up everywhere, the only reminder is the tram network, that was preserved only on the Russian side.

AfLuke and I checked off the major tourist points of the Reichstag and checkpoint Charlie (the old American sector border), which is nearly lost amongst souvenir shops, relic hunters and a rather large advertisement featuring a good looking lady in not very much.  So, more critical than myself,  might comment “how times have changed”

One of the greatest, and possibly most underappreciated buildings is the new parliament buildings. They are starkly modern, sitting only a few hundreds metres behind the old palaces of Justice and Reichstag.  The building actually sits on two sides of the River, yet they are joined by several bridges, signifying the unification of Berlin after the fall of the wall.

After that Luke and I took our usual random walk and found a variety of other buildings and sights, and generally explored Berlin, you can see the photos below.  And now, dear readers, I am going to have to cut this entry short as I amoff to bed, for it is near two a.m. and I must arise early in the morning, our hosts for this evening have previously informed us that Fruhstuck (breakfast) is at 8am, which is just cruelly early!

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.

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

Which is of course Sweden.

And it is a beautiful country.  We crossed over the Oresund bridge from Copenhagen to Malmo.

This feat of engineering is one of Europe’s largest bridges and the complete tunnel / bridge combination makes it the longest crossing in Europe.

We walked around Malmo for a bit once we arrived – taking in some of the historic  buildings, and yes of course some more water features.  After a quick coffee we consulted the “bible” and headed south – for the first time in this trip – to Hollviken, and yet another harbour.

We plug in, rev up the laptop and connect to a less than perfect internet connection.

Then it arrives, after many days of clear skies and sunshine we are battered by wind and rain from almost all directions.

The rain bounces off our roof with some lovely plinking noises that keep us awake for a short while until tiredness overcomes us and we nod off to sleep.

Morning comes and, although the rain has gone, the wind has remained – ensuring that any trips out of the van are made with bowed heads and hoods up.

We pile back into the van after taking a shower and head off to the local Viking Museum.

Guest post…

Hey all, you may remember I offered a guest post a while ago seeing as I am off on holiday this week and connections can not be guaranteed.

This post is from Kevin Littleton, you can find a link to his blog at the bottom of this post. Right, that’s enough from me….. enjoy!

Splashy Splashy

The rains have left me sometime last night while I slept after visiting for a couple days. I awoke this morning to find sunshine pouring through all my windows. I miss the gloom that I danced in yesterday and the puddles that splashed all around that seemed to dance with me. All the puddles are slowly dying as I type this and I can’t help but feel a sadness for them and their mommy who floated inland with the gentle breeze. The weather man says more rain is coming for the weekend and that gives me hope.

Yesterday I sat on the corner of the street with my girlfriend and a cup of tea. It was lightly drizzling and there was a huge puddle in the street before us. We sat there for a long time all bundled up and just talking about nonsense. Lots of cars went by and through that puddle. But the puddle was next to a stop sign so all the cars had to stop before turning onto the main street. This halted any big splashes that could have ended in disaster with the two of us sitting there. We were both surprised that the splashes from the cars were not even making it to the sidewalk, let alone where we were… We both had mixed feelings about that though. When we got up to leave I stomped the puddle…

I didn’t hit the sidewalk either.

They say the rains are coming back for the weekend. I really hope so because my feet are dry and this can’t last for too much longer…

Kevin Littleton
http://www.kevinlittleton.blogspot.com/

To start with I thought I would just explain myself a little…

Why do i want to do such a “crazy” thing.

Well its damn well not actually – think about this for one second…

We live in a world where the amount of money that exists doesn’t really exist,

• Where everyday you go into work to make money yet seem to spend half of it just getting to work,
• Where adventures must be completed by Sunday evening at the latest so you can be back at work on Monday morning bright and early to give your all for the company
• Where most of your efforts at work do wonders for the company, but somehow not for you.
• Where you are so tired in an evening after your long day and long commute that family activities are limited to eating tea together.
• Where your ‘life‘ revolves around making sure this routine is carried out

Now i don’t want to sound like some sort of hippie (which I’m really not, I listen to German Hardcore music for christs sake!)

So I decided that this wasn’t worthwhile, nor something I really wanted to do.

Why have i got to where I am now?

Fair question, why have I not already made this decision already. Why did I not up sticks and leave straight after school?

Well really I believe there are two factors to blame here: Me and the education system.

Let’s start with me shall we?

I take 90% of the blame here for not shifting things on. I have always wanted to do things like this but have never really been able to plan anything in advance, nor have I ever managed to save enough money for a big old overlanding adventure.

So I went down the normal path without really saying anything. Off to Uni (Because the schools in the UK are all basically jusdged on how many people go to university this was the route that was “right for me”, hated that, left…

Off to work, started off Okay.. it was an ‘adventure’ in it’s own right as all of life is of course, but now I have come to the realisation that I could flit around ‘normal’ jobs treating each one as it’s own adventure or I could actually go out there and do what I really want to do and what I have always wanted to do.

Me and Trucks

Ask anyone who knows me. I love driving.

I also love any large vehicle. I grew up with my father in the army. He was in the REME (auto technicians in camoflauge). This meant that there were always lots of big vehicles around, from Landrovers up to Tanks and everything in-between.

Since then I just seem to have some sort of admiration for large vehicles, and a want for driving them! (please feel free to use the comments box to remind me how sad I am and the fact that I am compensating for something hehe!)

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Above: at the annual Campervan mecca (the Camping & Caravan salon @ Dusseldorf, Germany

Me and Travel

Whilst my sister and I were gorwing up our parents had a variety of caravans and campervans. Our holidays consisted mostly of travelling hundreds of miles, stoppping, travelling more miles, stopping and so on.

I have never really grown out of this “windscreen tourism” – traveling through Europe whenever possible in my own van, stopping off here and there whenever an opportunity presents itself and stopping over in campsites in a tent for a few days when somewhere that is ripe to explore presents itself, A bit of a European ‘softcore’ overland experience really.

Me and Overlanding

I have always wanted to travel, but i have always dreamed of actually being able to make a living out of it, passing on stories to others and generally providing a service.

This is where overlanding comes in. It provides all the things I could want. Endless scenery explore, a reasonable dollop of “windscreen tourism”, a group of eager travelers as companions and lashings of driving in a large truck.

Well thats how the ideal situation would go anyway…

The reality is probably more like this – ridiculously long drives, crap weather meaning hours are spent crossing just a few miles of terrain, eager companions turn into whining and rebellious and tired hordes and the scenery keeps on trying to kill you, especially the wildlife.

Wake up tomorrow morning, the rains gone and everyone is exhausted. But you’ve made it… Smile!