Van Life France: Le Grand Tour
There is no greater freedom than having your own home on wheels. Being able to move freely as the wind and waves direct you and having no real plans is the ultimate escapism. Satisfying the wanderlusting itch in bounds and yet fuelling it even more at the same time.
In the summer of 2018, the summer that Europe experienced a sweltering heat wave and drought through July and early August, we spent two weeks meandering the winding roads of France, covering around 2,000 miles in a superb Fiat Ducato Auto Roller, whose name was Hudson, uncovering some of France’s hidden sweet spots. It was an unforgettable experience, in more ways than one.
It was blisteringly hot.
The usually lush green lands of Northern France were brown and parched by the long summer drought and the heat continued to rise steadily throughout our trip. Perfect weather for long beach days spent tumbling in the waves and balmy summer evenings playing with the kids.
We actually booked the trip rather last minute. One day, sitting in a local beer garden, we realised we had an unexpected window of time that summer, and didn’t want to waste it by letting it idly slip by without nailing some down kind of travel adventure. We’d already booked a trip to South East Asia, and first thought of changing our flights to extend that trip. But the flight change fee was astronomical, and deciding we could have gone to space for such a fee, we looked at other options.
My restlessness and thirst for travel meant planning a completely new trip, at the very last minute. I actually love the adrenaline and thrill of last minute bookings, and best of all, the liberating sense of freedom that comes with dropping everything and just leaving it all behind.
But finding any sort of home on wheels at short notice wasn’t easy, or cheap. After much searching, we found Hudson at South West Camper Hire, a Fiat Ducato Roller Team Auto Roller 747, and he really was the business!
Electric drop down double bed, mood lighting, hot shower, air con, two extra double beds, fully equipped kitchen, bike rack, swivel chairs and a garage for the all important boards and booze cruise home. The excitement levels were off the chain as we first climbed in and started to load up our stuff, exploring each and every tiny and very well organised little compartment.
We left Exeter in Hudson with utter excitement etched on our faces and pulsing through our veins, in anticipation of the trip that lay ahead.
We were complete beginners when it came to van life, had no idea what lay ahead and I suppose that was part of the excitement of the trip.
A whole new adventure, and a new challenge.
On the first night, I managed to set fire to the pizza in the gas fired oven, and it took me almost the full two weeks to realise that the tray in the sink popped out into a full size washing up bowl. What a revelation that was! This alone might help you get an insight into just how inexperienced we were when it came to this whole life on the road thing.
Night one was spent parked in the line up at Poole ferry port. We made our first dinner and opened our first beer, and being ready in the ferry queue before we’d even gone to bed, we instantly relaxed and felt as if we’d landed on Cloud Nine.
A South African van life enthusiast parked up next to us and stood outside talking the night away, as we were fumbling around trying to set up the beds for the first time. After a whole three hours in Hudson, we weren’t even sure how to even empty the toilet, and as a string of other van owners appeared and wanted to chat all things van, we felt rather out of our depth. It seemed there was a pop up van community at every possible stop en route, so we picked up a few handy tips and then closed the door and settled into our cosy home for the night.
Waking early the next morning, we nudged Hudson forward onto the ferry and after making the crossing to Cherbourg, we were all ready for our little French van adventure. Bright eyed and bushy tailed, we eagerly set off for our trip down South, where we’d arranged to meet up for a few nights with friends who were van-ing it for the summer in Seignosse. And we had a pretty well-detailed itinerary to ensure it all went smoothly.
But it didn’t exactly go as expected.
Our naive optimism at how simple this trip would be, really highlighted the van life novice in us. We had eleven nights in Hudson on French soil. We had to get him down to Seignosse and back to Cherbourg, then home safely before the end of our rental and our onward trip to South East Asia.
The 2,000 road miles took us double our estimated journey time, being limited to 50mph in a vehicle with the turning circle of a large shipping container. My memory of those first few days is mostly of navigating the roads and wrestling with a four and an eight year old fighting over the iPad, the snacks and anything else they could find to distract from their boredom, whilst dealing with Koko’s travel sickness and tears over who got to sit up front. I eventually realised I’d be better off sat with Kitty in the back watching endless hours of Peppa Pig, leaving Koko to navigate with Rhino, who drove the entire way.
Meanwhile, outside, the sun was shining, the sea was glistening, and we were all confined to the cabin for most of the sunlit hours of the day.
My high expectations rapidly came crashing down.
The long drives with the kids pushed us to the edge of sanity, not to mention the wrong turns and poorly chosen routes, the van checks, doing laundry for four in a bucket and learning on our feet how to keep this beautiful home on wheels serviced along the way.
We initially saw Hudson as just a vehicle, a way to get from A to B, with a bed for the night at the destination. And he turned out to be a very slow moving and rather high maintenance one. And being so overly ambitious in the plans we made, the outbound trip became more of a marathon than it needed to be.
Without such a tight itinerary, we would have been able to slowly meander as far as we wanted and then pull into a campsite for the night, pitch up and relax. Spending more time out of the van than in it. And therein lies the magic of motorhome travel.
The freedom, the flexibility and the simplicity of having no plans.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
France is incredibly well geared up for van life adventures, even in a larger motorhomes like Hudson. The Aires on the motorway are super well equipped for stops en route and there are ample facilities for filling and emptying the van everywhere you go. It’s almost as if everyone has a van.
The best campsites we found, as always in our travels, were those that were completely unexpected. Our very first campsite was probably the best one we stayed at and we found it completely by chance, having taken the wrong turn after several hours and 200km of driving the N13 and deciding it was time to stop for the evening.
With moaning kids in the rear, we sought the help of Google Maps, searched the back streets of Domfront, and happened to find the Camping Municipal, which had one spot left for us.
Upon check in, we were shown the herb garden at our disposal for dinner and asked what our morning order would be from the local boulanger, who arrived daily in his little blue van loaded up with pain. A friendly knock on Hudson’s door the next morning and we were presented with freshly baked croissants and bread for the next leg of the trip.
We pitched up in Domfront, made dinner out of our fridge supplies, pulled out our camping chairs with a glass of chilled French white, thanks to Hudson’s super chilly fridge and the kids played in the small play area and explored the site. It was all rather magic and a true moment where we relaxed, forgot about the day’s stresses and soaked up the joy of the moment.
The next morning we were up for the early and continued on our drive South. We made it 300km before stopping for the evening in the Camping Municipal de Niort, where the kids played in the park, rode their bikes around the site and Rhino got in a sunrise cycle through the beautiful countryside of Nouvelle-Aquitaine.
One final 400km push, and being honest, it did feel like a push, took us to our destination of Seignosse, where we pitched up next to our best buddies at the Camping Car Park, a short bike ride from the beach. We stopped there four nights, explored some of the most stunningly beautiful beaches France has to offer, travelled everywhere by bike on the perfect, kiddy friendly bike tracks, and got to share cheap French wine over evening barbecues with lifelong friends who we hadn’t seen for over a year.
With our motorhomes twinning side by side, symmetrical washing lines and our very own time zone for beer o’clock, we were neighbours in this experience as we had been in many life experiences before then. And this was another of those moments anchored in time, and forever logged in all of our shared memory banks. Rhino & Jem, Emma & me and the little ones we’d made along the journey too.
We had pre-booked three nights at the Flower Camping in Soulac-sur-Mer on the journey home. I thought the kids would enjoy the pool and the location would help us break up the drive home. This turned out to be another error of judgement.
We pulled up, declined the invitation to attend the ‘welcome meeting’ and ended up leaving early. It was a really lovely site, with a relaxed outdoor bar area and a nice sized pool for the little ones. But it just wasn’t as sweet as the smaller sites we’d been staying at. It was too big, too busy and too much of a holiday camp for us to feel comfortable. Whilst the diversity of the surrounding area offered a feast for World War Two historians and graffiti art lovers alike, the whole hi-de-hi experience of the site put me on edge and so we made our final two stops in the smallest and simplest of campsites in Bournezeau and Pontaubault, before crossing back to Poole.
Evenings with the kids, boules, frisbee, Uno, a bowl of pasta and a bottle of Kronenbourg, were really all we needed during that whole trip.
It was certainly in those simplest of moments that we made the best memories.
Somewhere along a very steep learning curve, all the things that were initially so alien to us, had become second nature. And just as we’d found our groove and settled in, it was time to hand Hudson back. We’d learnt so much over those two weeks, and wished we’d had longer to indulge in the simplicity of van life, once we’d fully unlocked the key and discovered what it was all about.
One of the things I will always take from that trip is the freedom of living with less.
We arrived home, uncomfortable in the space of our unfamiliar home, opened our kitchen drawer and wondered why we needed so many spoons and plates when we’d managed perfectly happily for two weeks with four place settings, one tiny wardrobe and a couple of cupboards for absolutely everything we needed, including boards and bikes, in a home that was less than six metres in length and could be driven around on four wheels.
Suddenly my mind was again full of all the stuff it had been free from for that trip and as the clutter once more filled our house and our minds, I made a little pledge to start living with less.
A lighter wardrobe means fewer choices each morning. A less loaded crockery cupboard means fewer dishes stacked in the sink and fewer bits of home décor certainly means less cleaning! I’m still working on the kids and their toys, but we’re definitely on the right path.
Our road trip in Hudson through France delivered more than we could ever have expected. More downs and more ups than Normandy’s winding N13, and every step of the way a learning curve. So many memories, many great times and as parents, many moments that taught us once more, how to roll with the rough, suck up the punches and a reminder to always embrace the simple joys in life, however imperfect they may be.
These are the days.
