Portesham, a place of Evil.

Never go to Portesham. It may look like a pleasant little Dorset village with a decent pub and quaint little cottages, however there is something sinister residing there. Something that can suck the life out of camper vans, leaving them unable to function, broken down and unable to move. Well, I can only assume this is what has caused my usually reliable VW camper van to fail twice now within a few hundred metres of the same spot.

The drive of shame. Again.

I was expecting Mike from Marsh Road Garage to be our knight in shining armour, as he has been on the previous two Green Flag recoveries (there is no limit on the number of call outs ! I checked !) but it seems he does sometimes have a day off, so a hairy chap called Mark took Jezebel for her third 'drive of shame' through Chickerell.

The plan had been to get both vans, teams 38 and 6, together at the same time and head out to Hardy's Monument for a Sunday meal. Jezebel and Milly however seem to be like opposing magnetic poles, nigh on impossible to get them together. The last attempt was in the New Forest where Milly arrived 24 hours late due to a breakdown. Now it was Jezebel's turn to play up. We set off from home with at least a pint of fuel sloshing around in the bottom of the tank and some blind optimism that we could get her to Portesham and the fuel station. Alas it seems that the God Fearing folk of Portesham don't require fuel on the Sabbath. Our other issue was the clutch. It had been slipping a bit on the journey out. As we took the hill out of Portesham, trying desperately to break away from the evil grip of that God Forsaken place, Jezebel was unable to make it. The over revving also burnt up the remaining dregs of fuel.

Jim's Chops.

Al Fresco cooking in November.

So, lunch was taken with just the one van. For those of you who don't know the area, Hardy's Monument has amazing views of Chesil beach, Portland and right across to Torbay a good 50 miles away as well as the rolling fields of southern Dorset. Lucy managed to produce a culinary masterpiece from the galley of Milly whilst Jim pan fried some lamb chops.

Jim and his assistant.

Lucas in his cupboard

Sink and units going in.

Jezebel's interior had certainly improved over the weekend. No longer just a van with a folding bed, Jim had been busy installing units, a sink, a hob and grill and the fridge that I had bought a few months back. We now have suitable storage space for 3 weeks worth of unwashed smalls, beer chairs, barbecue and all of the other essentials we shall need of our epic venture next year This, together with the tiled floor that had been installed a few weeks back in Devon (yes, she made it that far !), she is now several steps closer to being complete. If only the bloody clutch worked !

In other news, £242 was raised at Oktoberfest for Pilgrim Bandits. It is looking likely that they will be joining us on the Windy, it's just a question of what form their team or teams take. Their link is http://pilgrimbandits.org/ . Planning a trip involving a number of badly injured military vets is going to take a bit of effort, but I think it will be well worth it.

Since the last blog, we have also gained several interesting vehicles including a 1980 Ford camper van, the team of BMW bikes (the Black Rats) and a London Taxi. All good vehicles, but I think we shall have one of the smartest interiors in the fleet. As I said before though, if only the bloody clutch worked !

7 months, 2 days and counting down.....

A Thief at Dawn

I had caught him red handed. There he was only 5 metres away, in the early morning light and I had spotted him trying to escape with his haul. Guilty. You could tell by the beady look in his eye. He stared back at me with a look of defiance on his face. I quickly felt around me to see what I could lay my hands on, just in case things turned nasty, but nothing came to hand. It was just me and him. I eyed him up again. He had a look of confidence about him that was concerning, but I felt sure that I outweighed him. I opened the door a little further. With an aggressive swish of his fluffy tail, he was off up a tree with the freshly snaffled peanuts.

The New Forest in Hampshire is supposedly a low crime area. That is assuming you only count crimes committed by people. Our nocturnal nut smuggler was our second visitor. The previous evening, another resident, a New Forest pony had tried a smash and grab routine, rooting through the back of the van on the basis that it would take a brave person and several seconds to remove it. Luckily, it was ushered away, empty handed (or is it empty hooved ?)

This was the Windy 500 camping trip at Ashurst camp site. Hardly a strenuous trek to test the machines to their limits. Hampshire is only an hour or so away from Weymouth and nobody had to come that far. Surely nobody would have any problems with such a short little jaunt ?

Team 6 in Milly had other ideas though. Coming up from South Devon means traversing the notorious Telegraph Hill, the graveyard of many vehicles. A phone call from Lucy and Jim informed me that once again, this fearsome hill had taken it's toll on Milly and they were being repatriated to Teignmouth for some urgent repairs.

We arrived later than expected and soon located Robin and Sam of Team 46 with Trigger, their multi-terrain Mitsubishi van. Also there were Adrian and family of Team 37 and later on we were joined by Jeff from Team 32. Team 27, who will be Team Newlywed (seems wrong to call them that before the event) arrived in Olly, their white limousine. Just the sort of vehicle you need to camp in style. A huge boot and (if you aren't transporting the full complement of 8) plenty of room inside.

The weather held out. Alcohol was consumed. Tall tales and hopes and plans for our vehicles were discussed until after dark. Team 6 arrived 24 hours late and impressed everyone with the bedroom, kitchen, lounge of Milly.

The journey home proved problematic. Well, it would have done if anybody had stopped suddenly in front of us. Jezebel's brakes can prove to be a little temperamental. It's a problem with old brake fluid apparently. It picks up air bubbles, making the brakes very spongy. Something that needs addressing before any further trips I think.

She is taking shape inside. Obviously not as fast or as sophisticated as Milly, but the floor is pretty much in place, the insulation is installed throughout and we have a place to sleep when needed. The rest as they say is mere garnish.

International Rescue

I'm on first name terms with the local recovery truck driver. That in itself is a worrying turn of events. He greets me like a regular customer. I guess that is what I have become. I suppose the next step will be having Green Flag on speed dial, recognising the call handlers and asking for Mike to attend once more. I certainly get the feeling that it won't be my last trip in the front of the Marsh Road Garage recovery truck.

It had been a good day up until then. Having been to the tip, I had taken young Lucas for a quick trip to the beach. It was fiercely hot, most unusual for this summer, and we had shorts on, so we went in the sea to cool off. Then, on the way home, I noticed that the gears were getting harder to get in to, having been so smooth since they were fixed last week. We got in to some stationary traffic on Preston Beach Road and whilst the rest of the stationary traffic became slow moving traffic, I was left cursing and sweating as I tried frantically to force the gear stick in to a gear, any gear, to get it going again. It wasn't happening. I'm no great mechanical expert but I could tell a knackered clutch when I felt one.

I tried pushing the beast out of the road. Hordes of gormless morons drove past, staring blankly at me as I tried in vain to get Jezebel out of the way of the traffic which was building up. Still, at least it wasn't whilst the Olympics were in full swing. Finally, a car full of Koreans stopped to help. At least I think they were Koreans. I didn't ask which side of the border they were from. They didn't seem to speak a lot of English but they understood the situation I was in and helped to push Jezebel up on to the pavement. I thanked them in my best Korean. "내 모자는 세 모서리를 가지고있다" . They seemed pleased with the news that my hat has got three corners.

I waited patiently for the arrival of Mike until there was a knock on the drivers window. "Hi, it's Don, Team 31" . And it was. Stood in the traffic, admiring my dubious parking and wondering if there was an issue. I explained the lack of clutch action and that my regular recovery truck driver Mike was coming to sort me out again. Not the greatest place for an impromptu Windy 500 discussion, I guess I should have invited him in, got the burner going and made him a quick cuppa.

The meeting earlier in the week with Team 3, Team Trauma, was much better organised and sociable. Cider, freshly grilled steak and salad lively discussion about ambulances and estate agents. I'm sure many people have dreamed of putting an estate agent in an ambulance, this team are actually going to do it ! Some great ideas from the paramedics on the fundraising front.

So, thanks to Mike, Jezebel is currently sat outside the house and is likely to be there for a little bit. The planned two day trip this weekend has now reverted to good, old fashioned, proper camping, in one of those tents. Just as the Olympics are due to start and I had envisaged having my van and it's advertising on view to the World's media, there she is parked in a cul-de-sac 3 miles from all of the action. Most annoying.
Later, whilst at work, I spotted a man in a lurid pink and purple top. Using my powers of deduction, I approached him and accused him of being Team 49. I was correct. First meeting with Gary as he is snowed under organising the Olympic ambassadors in Weymouth, with their violently coloured shirts. He won't have time to consider getting a vehicle until September and the Games have been and gone. Funnily enough, I had one he could have had, if he didn't mind a few dents where I had been banging my head against the bodywork.

Gone Fishin'

Gatwick Airport is the second busiest airport in Britain, only slightly less busy than it's near neighbour Heathrow. It does hold it's own record though. It is the busiest single runway airport in the World. 52 flights an hour at peak times take off and land on the runway which runs approximately East-West.

Henfold Lakes near Dorking are a peaceful series of 5 fishing lakes. Peaceful, that is, in between the 52 flights an hour buzzing overhead. Henfold Lakes was where I found myself on Wednesday evening, together with a 30 year old camper van, an excitable 4 year old lunatic and an equally excitable 30 something year old wife, clutching two tickets to the show jumping at Hickstead the following day.

How could I be so foolish ? Not the camper van, she was fine, albeit a little heavy on the juice. Not the camp site either. The noise became background noise soon enough and the lakes were pretty. It was even good value at £11 for the night. No, I was referring to the Hickstead tickets. I have to admit, to my eternal shame, I bought them.

I've had some good E-bay purchases in my time. £8 for two tickets to the Heineken Cup Final for example. That was a good purchase. Grand National Tickets for £20 was also a bargain. I've also had some rather poor E-bay purchases too. The bagpipes for example could never really be considered as a wise purchase. In my defence, m'lud, I was very drunk at the time. The Hickstead tickets though, I was sober. Perhaps I didn't plan it right, thinking that Jo would take her sister. Chickerell Primary School sports day put paid to that and hence I found myself being dragged off kicking and screaming to bloody Hickstead to watch the bloody show jumping. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Until now, Jezebel had not been out of Dorset in the previous two years. Our longest trip since we got her back on the road had been the twenty odd miles to Eype. Weymouth to Dorking is nearer 140 miles. I decided that the best way to tackle this mammoth trip was by dozing in the back and letting Jo drive. It was raining, but with a positive forecast we were looking forward to a pleasant barbecuing evening by the lakes. I awoke in Hampshire and took over the driving and navigating, exploring most of the country lanes within a 5 mile radius of our destination. Those extra gears (yes, we now have 4 ! forward gears !) made for a much smoother ride.

The weather forecast was wrong on the whole. We still managed the pleasant barbecue, just did it hanging out of the back of the van. We slept in the roof for the first time too. Well, when I say slept.... I dropped my pillow and needed a wee from about midnight onwards, just didn't want to disturb everyone else.

Next stop was Coulsdon to collect a fridge. 30 minutes drive, if you know where you are going. We took 60 and took the last 5 miles very cautiously due to our newly acquired issue. Excessively spongy brakes. Just what you need when you are about to collect a 40kg lump of kitchen appliance. Strangely though, as we scoured the local garages for brake fluid, the problem seemed to heal itself and we were off again, complete with enormous fridge, to bloody Hickstead.

So, bloody Hickstead. What can I say ? Infested with bloody ponies and young girls called Porsche and Scarlett. Still, the jodhpurs looked good.

The Nightlife of Eype

For those of you unaware, Eype is a small village in West Dorset clinging precariously to the edge of the Golden Cap, the highest point on the south coast of England. It provides fine walking opportunities and wonderful views of Torbay, Lyme Bay and Portland. On a clear day that is.... On a wet and foggy evening with a howling gale blowing in off the sea, the views and walking opportunities can be a little less appealing.

We were in a camp site near the beach. As the crow flies, only 100 metres from the beach. Alas, this is a vertical 100 metres we are talking about and any crows that were inclined to fly would have been several miles inland the moment they took off. The camp site itself wasn't exactly flat. From the narrow road that led to it there was a steep incline and the camp site had terracing to provide small flat parking/camping areas.

So, this is what Jezebel, with me at the wheel, was facing as I looked up from the road. A daunting prospect. Especially with the mysterious lack of first gear in our gearbox. The one gear I could really do with in such a time of emergency. I gave her a bit of a run up, floored the accelerator and got by using the power of prayer, pleading and the odd expletive as she chugged to the top of the slope on the verge of the camp site, right on the verge of stalling. Phew.

Nice weather before the rain set in 30 minutes later.

Lucas's bedroom for one night.

This was to be our first camping experience with Jezebel. Early July and due to weather, vehicle problems aplenty, work and other issues and we had only now managed this feat. What is more, this was using the original, knackered engine that we had been told was on it's way out. Life in the old dog yet...

The camping was an experience. With the pop top not currently functioning (I think it could have acted as a huge sail if we had put it up), Lucas dropped off to sleep on a mattress in the boot area whilst we chatted and drank beer in the lounge area with my chum Mike, down for the evening from Surrey. We still haven't got flooring or cupboards in yet so our gear was free to roam around the interior on our journey down there.

The engine is currently behaving well. The service did the trick, eventually. New oil, filters and plugs had her running sweetly....for the first 20 metres. She then stopped dead and had to be pushed back in to the garage. A bit of tinkering and sanding of contacts in the distributor did the trick and she drove down to B&Q like a dream. Purring quietly on the bypass, compared to the rattles, coughs and splutters we had before that made you have to shout at your passengers.

After coming out of B&Q, she wouldn't start. I repeated the trick with the distributor and lo and behold, I was off again. 200 metres later, I wasn't. Outside KFC, parked at a funny angle on double yellows, I was again fiddling with HT leads, distributor cap and rotor arm. 10 minutes and after some advice from an AA man, I was off again. For 50 metres. Breakdown number 4. This was soon after followed by breakdown 5 of the day on Swannery Bridge. The adjustments made with some pliers and a hammer seemed to do the trick though. Since then, she has been running like a dream.

So, I now have a functioning pop top. Lucas has been up there, claiming the large double bed as his own. I've ripped off the ghastly carpet stuff from the roof boards as it was disintegrating and spreading fluff and dust through everyone's hair.

We are off to Hickstead next week. A three hour trip (on paper), with a night of camping somewhere near Brighton and a day of bloody pony related ghastliness. I hope they have some decent beer tents and I can persuade Jo to drive home afterwards. Jezebel is back in the garage today to see if a mechanic can find that elusive first gear. It's in there somewhere, I'm sure of it.

The End Is.......Fine.

She really is a tinker that Jezebel. For the best part of a month now she has sat idly by outside the house whilst I searched in vain for a new engine. With the diagnosis that the big end is going, I was led to believe that the only solution was a new engine of some sort. With the alternator problems too, I felt that taking her anywhere was just asking for trouble. So, with 2 weeks off work, not enough cash to buy any sort of engine, I had busied myself with insulating the interior, sulking, tinkering and cleaning. At least she was warm and clean inside now, albeit lacking in certain equipment. Seat belts, fridge, units and flooring still to go in. Can't do them without a bit of Hairyman welding on the floor, can't get it to Hairyman without new alternator and engine. Hence the sulking. Even the cat wouldn't come near enough to let me kick it.
Finally, with a pocket full of used notes in small denominations, I took a trip out to Crossways to collect the engine they had put to one side for me. It was a scruffy looking lump of rusty machinery and I wondered quietly to myself if this was really £500 worth. I was just about to load it in to the back of the car when one of the young flunkies said "it was water cooled you wanted wasn't it?". It wasn't. Damn. I headed home to look for the cat again.
So, a few days later, a phone call to Ollie to see if he had located a second hand air cooled T25 engine anywhere. It seems it is easier to track down the right testicle of a unicorn. Probably cheaper too. He did however suggest that if I brought the van out to him the next day, he would listen to it and see if it was the big end or something less excruciatingly expensive. Ahhh, panic ! 24 hours to get her working well enough to get out to Crossways. I hadn't yet got further than 5 miles without a break down before and now she was slouched outside on a slope with supposedly a terminal condition and no functioning alternator.
I went out for a quick tinker. My mechanical knowledge consists of knowing where to put the oil and how to jiggle spark plugs. I did both then tried to turn her over. No joy. I tried to bump start her down the hill. No joy. I was now parked across a junction at the bottom of the slope. I tried the key. She fired up immediately and ran smoothly. How ????
A gentle (very gentle) drive around the village suggested that whatever her issues were, they were possibly just imaginary. A drive in to work the following day also went smoothly. After work I psyched myself up, jumped in, set the stereo to loud and set off for Crossways. It was all going swimmingly, all the way out there.
Ollie went straight to business. He hadn't even spoken to me before his head was in the back of the van, prodding and poking about in the engine bay. "She doesn't smell good" he said. I was a bit hurt after all that cleaning. It turned out he meant the engine and the fumes it was producing though. Well, the verdict was indeed favourable. She needed a good service, fresh oil, new filter, new plugs and points and the timing was out by several hours. Not the big end. Probably. The end is fine !
So, with this pleasant news giving me a warm and happy feeling in my back pocket, I jumped back in and turned the key. It barely turned over. After 5 minutes of turning it over I admitted defeat and went to sheepishly ask to borrow a booster.
On the way home, cruising at a steady 40mph on the flat, I started losing power rapidly. Changing down the gears and pushing the accelerator right down did nothing as my speed bled away to nothing and I crawled in to a bus stop. Filled with pessimism, I gave the ignition a quick turn and she fired up immediately as though nothing had happened. She repeated her amusing little trick twice more before we got home. As I said, she is a little tinker.
So, we are booked in for a service next week. I can finally get her over to Hairyman to fix the floor holes and the roof rams. Who knows, she might, just might, be in a fit state to go camping next week. Now, that would be amazing, wouldn't it ?

Sunny Afternoon at the pub

Pleasant as it sounds, this wasn't where I wanted to be. The pub in question was the Kings Arms at Portesham in rural West Dorset. A significant location in a way, it was the furthest I had driven Jezebel from home to date. Just under 5 miles. With a new battery under the drivers seat, I was out cruising the shire to charge the battery and to give the engine a bit of welly as it had remained static for so long.
All was going well as I entered the village. All was still going well as I turned right and noticed the admiring gazes of the pub garden full of lunchtime tipplers. All was not going quite so well another 30 metres up the road when she stalled for no apparent reason and ground to a halt in the middle of the road, under the less admiring gazes of the tipplers. Turning the engine over just wasn't working and strangely it was sounding like it was flat again. Time to test the Green Flag recovery that comes free with my bank account.
Mike from Marsh Road Garage turned up and did the usual mechanics thing of tutting and pointing out various cowboy repairs that had been made. He jump started Jezebel and we let her run for a bit before he announced it was probably an alternator problem and, 'oh, by the way, I think your big end is going' .
A big end ? This will, I have no doubt, mean something to about 10% of readers. It's an engine part. I have no idea what it looks like or where it was planning on going to. All I know is that it's an important thing in the engine and when someone mentions your 'big end' it usually prequels them asking for a wedge of cash the size of a small village. I gulped and nodded knowingly. Fear not I thought. All of the blogs and web pages I had read mentioned how easy it was to get a T25 engine out and how many other engines it was possible to substitute for a T25 engine. "Get a Golf engine, no problem, drop it in." Mike advised me. "Shouldn't be more than a few hundred quid".
So, I spoke to Chris at Class Bodyworks. He suggested getting a second hand diesel, or a reconditioned petrol engine. Advice from other mechanics was to recondition the current one, buy an engine from a reputable company, buy a cheap written off car, buy a Subaru, browse the net, phone around. The cheapest quote I found for a reconditioned T25 engine was £1800.
Well, finally, after a fair bit of trawling, I think I may have found one. £500. The problem is, I don't know how good or bad it is. The bloke selling it tells me they have got it going and it doesn't smoke but he can't do a warranty. It's a gamble. It could be in just as bad a state as mine. Oh decisions....
In the meantime, having had yet another group say they would love to put in a team, but couldn't stretch to 3 weeks off work, I had a brainwave and came up with the idea of the Windy Lite. A two week version including the Transfagarasan Highway and the Stelvio Pass. It will mean two hefty drives at the beginning and end but is just about doable in 2 weeks. It's launching tomorrow. I need bunting, champagne and fireworks !

The Smell of Success

Well, she's an interesting drive, I'll give her that. Jezebel has now been on the road for a couple of weeks and I have been putting her through her paces. Actually, that might not be completely accurate. I think she has been putting me through my paces. After a few years of driving a new VW Golf around with no concerns about breaking down, not starting or things falling off, I guess I've become a bit lazy and I've been taking my vehicle for granted. So, what has this Jezebel got that the Golf hasn't you ask ? Well, it's more what is missing that makes the drive more interesting :-
1. Less forward gears. The Golf has five, the van has two and a half. No fifth gear, haven't yet found first despite a lot of stirring of the gear box and occasionally I can find second gear, but never at traffic lights.
2. A temperature gauge. This surprised me at first, I looked everywhere. Seems that air cooled vans don't bother with that sort of thing. Logical when you think about it.
3. Air conditioning. Well, it's got windows I guess. We always used to get by with windows.
4. No seats in the back. Not yet anyway, The bed/back seat is still currently a mangled pile of scrap metal and cheap board. I'm working on it though.
5. Wire. Not really evident on the neat and tidy Golf, however the wiring in the van seems to be a pile of spaghetti behind the drivers seat. The CD player (yes, it has a working CD player !!!) doesn't work because the speakers are on the dashboard, the wiring is behind the drivers seat and I'm guessing the two need to meet sometime.
6. Oil. Well, it does seem to have some, but alas it is currently all over the road outside our house and the car park at work. I think this is something we'll need to address before the start.
There are a number of other things that you may expect to find in a camper van, such as a sink, table, fridge and storage units. These are currently located in my garage and will be making their way on board at a later date.
What it does have though is a selection of unusual odours. Hay, from transporting bales from one stable to another. A man with a van is universally popular. Burning oil whenever we get above 45 miles an hour. Fresh paint, but alas this is fading rapidly.
The noises are interesting too, from the loud clunk of the doors as they slam shut to the grating noise of the bed sliding around in the back. It really does need some sound proofing before I fix the stereo.
Jim has now been up, has looked it over, we have disentangled the bed to some extent and he has given me a list of things to buy and things to do that will keep me busy for a few months. Insulating, water proofing, painting, flooring and re-covering the walls for a start. It's almost a relief that the weather isn't really up to camping yet.
On the Windy planning front, Romania is certainly looking interesting. The Transfagarasan Highway doesn't open officially until a week after we pass through due to snow, however it is often unofficially open a week or two before if weather permits. There is however an alternative route, the Transalpine. This was only recently paved all the way and is described by locals as more scenic and more of a challenge to drive. Sounds interesting. The possible civic reception in Brasov with the mayor also sounds like it could be an experience.

Ready to Roll

Spring 1982 saw quite a few notable events. Sir Freddie Laker became an ex-director as his Laker Airways collapsed. Mr Delorean saw the end of his Irish time machine making business. Sir Clive Sinclair made possibly his last good invention in the ZX Spectrum and an Argentine scrap metal dealer raised the Argentine flag in South Georgia sparking the Falklands war.

Meanwhile, in a factory in Hanover, Germany, a shiny red Volkswagen T25 camper van rolled off the production line and was packed off, no doubt with ruthless German efficiency, to begin it's life in a new country over seas.

Roll on 30 years and we see budget airlines flourishing, the computer industry has made huge leaps and bounds and the remote islands off the coast of Argentina are still under British rule. The time machine industry has alas never really recovered.
30 years have not been kind to that shiny red van. 138000 miles and the damp British climate have faded the paintwork, perished the rubber window seals and eaten away at the metal of the van. After 18 months of inaction, left to moulder over winters, sat around in the wind and rain, neglected, ignored and unloved due to age and imperfections, the van had been superfluous to its owners . A bit like Michael Owen.

But, unlike Michael Owen, the red van isn't quite ready for retirement yet. Again, unlike Michael Owen, it also has the opportunity to see some action in Europe next year, but we'll cover that in later blogs.
As you may recall from my previous blog, the van was progressing well through a miraculous transformation. No longer the tatty faded red vehicle of last year. Blue is this season's red it seems. After a teething problem or two, the van slowly, gradually, finally became road legal. The roof had come off, revealing huge rusty holes where the hinges had been. These had been welded, filled, sanded and finally hidden under a new coat of paint. The sliding door window had been removed, sworn at repeatedly and finally put back in by an expensive window fitting expert. Knuckles had been grazed, clothing ruined and I had been introduced to the delicate art of 'flatting'. Finally, as I finished my two weeks off work, Jamie announced that the van was finally ready.

Faded, jaded, unloved and neglected.

Much filler later...

Weeks of work, blood, sweat and toil had made a work of art. Alright, most of the work, sweat and toil was produced by Hairyman, but I did graze my finger and learnt the basics of bodywork and the fine art of swearing at vehicles.

Air cooled version.

And so the vinyls that had been produced by Alex at Print Team, & left lying around my lounge for weeks were finally fitted over a few days. The glowing white bumpers were fitted and I fiddled with wipers and number plates. So, 5 months after she was rescued she was ready to hit the road.

Born Again

Easter. A time for rejuvenation. As the story goes, Mr Christ, having got himself in a spot of bother with the Romans and done in, was placed in a cave on Good Friday, only to emerge on Easter Monday rejuvenated and in a whole new guise. The same, but somehow different. Bigger, better and brighter than before and a thing of worship.
Easter weekend arrived and I too was expecting a miracle of my own. Down in a cave in Wyke Regis (alright, a workshop but for the sake of the metaphor, we'll call it a cave. It is inhabited by a Neanderthal.) I had deposited a beaten up carcass of a van there before Easter and I was unreliably informed that it would be transformed over the weekend to emerge transformed on Easter Monday. It didn't happen. I guess Jerusalem is a more miraculous place than Wyke Regis.
So, a fortnight on and the miracle is finally taking place. Jamie has resolved his issues and has given up (I hope ) discovering new rusty patches and large holes in the van and is now respraying the old girl. The doors are off, the lights and bumpers are off. All the windows have been expertly masked by his junior apprentice (that's me. I lied about the junior bit) and the faded red paint and the grey primer are no more, hidden from view by the new, fresh coat of paint. I've also cleaned the algae off the roof and kept Jamie fully appraised of the current situation at Weymouth Football Club as he was working on my frequent visits to the workshop over the last few days.
I'm sure you are keen to know yourselves too. Not good news to report I'm afraid. We were invaded by trolls from Frome on Easter Monday. A team who play on a cow field in Somerset surrounded by sheds, supported these days by cider fuelled morons looking for a fight. Crowd trouble is virtually unheard of at the Bob Lucas Stadium, so it took the three elderly stewards by surprise to find themselves separating a group of Weymouth based chavs from some drooling illiterate farmers from Frome. Worse still, Weymouth lost 3-0 and now find themselves just 2 points off relegation with 2 games to play. The crunch match is on Saturday at home to Hitchin. They could be in serious poop if they can't win that one.
Anyway, back to the van. I was going to post some pictures of the transformation as it happened, but I think I'll wait. I'll (hopefully) be able to show you the finished article in a few days. Watch this space, it will, I assure you be worth it. I may even be able to update you on the Hitchin match too.

We have a mountain to climb....

In fact not just one mountain. Three to be precise, and all within 24 hours. Now, who's stupid idea was that ?

Back in 2006, Jo and I took 3 months off work for a leisurely jaunt around Central America and the Caribbean. Part of this leisurely jaunt included the island of Ometepe in Nicaragua. Famed for it's matching pair of extinct volcanoes, this is a picturesque island, reminiscent of Madonna's bra  in the middle of a huge lake. At least it is picturesque if you aren't slogging your guts out climbing towards one of the peaks in the rarely faltering thick fog that enshrouds them. I can recall quite vividly (although not vividly enough it seems...) thinking "Never again. Never shall I climb another sodding mountain". Mount Meru in Tanzania was a real sod to climb too. Stupid, stupid bloody habit.

Well, on the bright side, we won't have to look out for rogue elephants on any of these three. At least I hope not anyway.

'Guard your van for a fiver, Mister?'

A 'too bad' arch

A Mouses hole ?

So, how is the van you ask ? Still tatty. Faded red, patchy with filler and fibreglass resin, still off the road at present. The more Jamie sands it down, the more rusty patches and holes appear. The sliding door is none too pretty and the arches, which I originally thought weren't too bad, are too bad. Filled now though and soon to be ready for the respray. So I'm led to believe. We went to Rome 2 weeks ago, taking Jim and Lucy with us (amongst several others.) Sharing a car up from Weymouth to Stansted with them was an experience. I'm not sure I managed to get a word in edgeways during the entire journey up to Essex as Lucy gave me the blow by blow account of how their van had been fixed, broken down, fixed again and the colour scheme and texture of the cushions they would have for their interior. My ears were bleeding by the time we got to the M25. The pair of them appear to be true camper van nerds now and know their vehicle more intimately than either Mr Volks or Mr Wagen ever could. 

Entries for the Windy are still coming in at a reasonable pace. Spaces 34 and 36 in recent weeks have found occupants. Still have a number of stubborn 'nearly there' teams still trying to get entries or participants in some sort of working order. With over 14 months to go though, I'm delighted to have well over half the spaces filled, vehicles being purchased and money being raised for charity. 

So, I hear you say, "more importantly, how are Weymouth Football Club faring these days ?" . Well, you'll be pleased to know that there has been a change of ownership down at the Bob Lucas Stadium. The odious George Rolls has sodded off to pastures new, leaving a God awful mess for the good folk and true fans of the club to sort out. Ralph, of Team 25 fame is now a director no less and has kindly (??) roped me in to organise some fundraising events. Wouldn't happen at Man Utd I don't suppose. Hopefully the current off-field feel good factor will one day rub off on the team who are plummeting alarmingly down the Tinpot League Southern Division towards oblivion, or worse still Wimborne. 

As I was leaving the BLS just yesterday, one of the other directors collared me to show me his latest pride and joy, a maroon coloured Mercedes diesel saloon that he had purchased for £500 with the Windy possibly in mind. Shaun has apparently previously completed the Plymouth to Dakar Rally, but I'm sorry, his choice of potential motor is severely lacking in kudos. GET AN ICE-CREAM VAN FOR CHRIST SAKE !!! Anything but a dull as ditch water, ultra reliable Mercedes.  

  

Swiss Cheese

The van design has been chosen. I'd love to share it with you all on here, but I think I'll leave it until it is finished, just in case it doesn't look as good as the design pictures. I'm hoping it will be eye catching. In fact, I'm sure, one way or another, it will be eye catching.
Slowly but surely the Windy places are being filled. Considering we are still 16 months from kick off, to have as many teams as we have booked in has got to be good news. Well over half are claimed and I'm still awaiting several more teams to sort out their staffing issues and complete the process. Even more impressive is the number of teams now in possession of their vehicles. I firmly expected most to wait until after the summer of 2012, so that they would only have one MOT to negotiate and only one year of insurance. But no, you impulsive lot have all rushed out and frittered your money already on a right bag of old tripe. Well done !
We are seeing a lot of vans being purchased. Ever since I was offered my VW T25 (Jezebel it is now to be called, after the wife), it seems that teams are favouring this plan of having somewhere to sleep on board. Team 6 have their VW T4, Team 9 have some sort of long wheel based ex-school bus and Team 15 have a Renault SWAT van with it's own private toilet.
So, what progress on Jezebel you ask ? Designs (as I mentioned) are on the drawing board (well, on my phone at least). Hairyman at JB Restorations has taken some of the paint off. It's a bit concerning as it looks like this paint is all that is holding the bodywork together. The front section of the van is hand painted, whereas the back 2/3 are dull, faded red. The sliding door is the main concern. Having taken off some of the paint, the door resembles Swiss cheese. He assures me it is fixable and cheaper than buying a new one (£250, which is as much as I paid for the entire van). I have faith in him. He may not have evolved enough to wear shoes yet, but his bodywork skills are admirable. He says he is putting steel in to some parts of the bodywork to replace the rusty sections. I think our van may be bullet proof and weigh more than a double decker bus by the time he's finished.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to the forthcoming Spring and to organising a few Windy events. Camping, treasure hunts, 3 Peaks Challenge. It's going to be tough fitting it all in around Lord Coe's sports day in the Summer.

What to Wear ????

I'm having a dilemma. Any advice or ideas would be most welcome. Our camper van (as yet un-named, something we should work on) is due to be resprayed very soon. I'm not sure what colour or design though. I've been given a few ideas and come up with one or two myself, but nothing has really grabbed me yet. It needs to be the visual equivalent of a slap around the face, but at the same time stylish and classy (well, ok, you probably won't ever make a 29 year old camper van that stylish and classy) .
The ideas I've been chewing over so far are :-
1. A miniature double decker bus. Paint the camper van bright bus red, put vinyl black panels in two rows (possibly even with pictures of passengers), advertising boards, destination sign on the front, etc, etc. The main issue is that the drivers/passenger windows can't be covered with vinyl/tints, so you would have a full sized window at the front and little windows for only 2/3 of the vehicle. Would look a bit odd I think.
2. A Weymouth tartan. By painting the van a light blue, I can then apply strips made up of claret and white thin stripes to make an all over tartan pattern.
3. An enormous Windy 500 logo taking over half the van, a bit like the Salvador Dali clock design with the floppy clocks (or in this case Windy 500 logo).
It's a real dilemma and it's stopping me sleeping at night (though that might be down to the shifts and having to work at night)
Anyway, back in the real world, Weymouth slumped to another disappointing away loss yesterday to another poxy team after two very encouraging home wins over Christmas and New Year and some excellent football of late. Makes me glad I didn't take time off work to trek up to the Midlands.
We have picked up another team, fully paid up and definitely coming along. Team 1, Garry, Ian and Courtney will be first team on their way on 14th June 2013 as they lead the procession up the Esplanade. They are looking for a big reliable estate car by all accounts, a Mercedes or similar, but have a Mondeo lurking in the background if nothing else grabs their attention. Little sense of adventure if you ask me.