Pulling in, the first thing you notice is the quiet. Not the eerie, horror-movie quiet, but the lovely buzz of people happily pottering about. You hear the gentle hiss of a caravan’s awning being zipped up and the clink of mugs. It sounds like a symphony of “we’ve got this figured out.” I half-expected someone to hand me a cup of tea and a biscuit before I’d even turned off the engine.
The reception is so friendly it feels like you’ve just walked into a village fête where everyone knows your name. They give you the lay of the land without the military briefing. It’s a “here’s your pitch, the showers are lovely, and the pub down the road does a decent pie” kind of welcome. You instantly relax your grip on the steering wheel.
Pitching Up: The Great Tetris of Life
Finding your spot is a gentle game of caravan Tetris. You reverse, you pull forward, you reverse again, and your partner gestures wildly from outside like they’re landing a 747. The pitches are generously sized, so you don’t feel like you’re camping in your neighbour’s back pocket. Once the legs are down and the hook-up is in, that’s it. You’ve built your tiny, mobile castle for the night.
And the view? It’s not the Swiss Alps, but it has its own charm. You might be looking at a hedge with a very determined robin on it, or a patch of sky that promises a decent sunset. It’s the kind of view that makes you say, “Yep, I could sit here for a while.” And you will. You absolutely will.
