About Me

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Hi! I'm Eunice and I live in Bolton, Lancashire, with my two dogs Sophie and Sugar and an assortment of cats - well it used to be Sophie and Sugar, now it's Sophie and Poppie. I first began camping back in 1997 when my then partner took me to Anglesey for my birthday weekend. We slept in the back of the car - a hatchback - using the cushions off the settee at home as a mattress, and cooked and brewed up on a single burner camping stove. The site was good, the views were great, the weather fantastic and I was completely hooked. Following that weekend we got a two-man tent and some proper accessories and returned to Anglesey two weeks later, then over time we progressed to a three-man tent followed by an old trailer tent, then a new trailer tent, a campervan and finally a caravan. When my partner decided that the grass was greener on the other side of the street - literally - in April 2009 and I suddenly found myself alone after fifteen years, I decided there was no way I was going to give up camping and caravanning if I could cope on my own. This blog is the story of my travels, trials and tribulations since becoming a solo camper - I hope you like it

Monday April 2nd 2018 - A great disaster and a difficult day.

I half woke up during the night to hear the sound of light rain on the van roof - that was nothing new as it had rained for most of the weekend and it was raining when I got in bed, but I didn't realise then the disaster which was about to happen. I'd pitched my tent on the nearside of the van and on the far side of the tent was a 4-berth touring caravan on the next pitch; lying in bed in the van and looking across through a gap in the curtains I could only see my tent but when I looked across that morning I could see the side of the caravan. Now that was strange - if I could see the caravan where was my tent??

My first thought was that someone had been along during the night and silently stolen it but when I got up and looked out of the window properly I saw exactly where it was - almost on the ground. What I'd thought was light rain during the night must have been the beginning of a sudden snow shower which had landed on the tent and frozen, with the weight making the tent collapse. Two of the three poles had snapped completely and the end where I would have been sleeping, if I'd been in there, was totally flattened - thank goodness the dogs and I had been in the van otherwise the whole lot would have come down on top of the three of us.  


The worst of it was, most of my belongings were in there under that lot - the larder unit, kitchen unit, chair, loo, the holdall with my clothes in and a couple of other items, and it was only the height of the tall larder unit which was stopping the other end from falling down completely. I had to get everything out somehow so I dressed quickly and with a combination of my bare hands and a sweeping brush borrowed from the toilet block I set to clearing all the snow and ice away and pulling the poles out. Once they were out of the way I managed to unzip the back door and crawl inside, then item by item I dragged everything out and packed it away in the van. And while I was doing all that it was raining steadily so by the time I'd finished there was water inside the tent as well as on it and I was literally soaked through to the skin.

There was nothing I could do with the tent just then and it was still securely pegged down so I left it where it was while I got changed, had a brew and some breakfast and got warmed up in the van. A while later, while I was standing there wondering how best to deal with a soaking wet tent and two broken poles, a guy from a caravan further down the site struck up a conversation with me on his way to the water tap, and when I told him what had happened to the tent he offered to come back later and help me with it. He was as good as his word and between us we managed to lift it up, get all the water out of it, and carry it over to the back fence where it was draped along to hopefully dry out if it eventually stopped raining.

In spite of the bad start and the constant rain I was determined not to waste the rest of the day sitting in the van on my pitch; the tent would be okay where it was so I decided to drive into Bala but that's when the second disaster struck - the van wouldn't start. When I'd put the blind up at the front window the night before I'd unthinkingly left the ignition on and the battery was flatter than flat - and once again it was Paul from the caravan further down who came to my rescue, jump-starting the van with his own trusty Toyota Rav 4. Eventually I got to Bala but the weather was no better there, it was still raining so leaving the dogs in the van I went to get some provisions from the Spar shop then had a quick walk along the top end of the lake before heading back to the camp site.


The 'B' road back to the site took me through some lovely countryside with some great views which would have been well worth a few shots in nice weather but the only place I stopped for photos was in a lay-by close to where the road went over a narrow bridge. The normally narrow stream running under the bridge had swollen with all the rain and there was quite a sizeable torrent running down the gulley and out at the other side of the road.


Back at the site it was later that evening when Paul came and asked me if I fancied a brew and a chat back at his caravan. It was a nice suggestion so I went down and spent several hours in good company, just the thing I needed to round off what had been a very difficult and trying day in more ways than one - it was good to chat to someone with a common interest and I enjoyed myself so much that it was 3am before I finally went back to my own van for the rest of the night.