I'd settled on 3 sites previously until I tried the CC site at Hillhead for a quote. Unbelievably a fully serviced pitch here was coming out cheaper than a normal pitch anywhere else, at just £150 for the 7 nights.
The outdoor pool is closed, but that makes no difference as I have an aversion to cold water (and I tend to get clubbed to death if I strip off near water) and there is no entertainment on in the club house.
We do like to be able to walk out for an evening drink in October, as the long dark evenings can make the van a claustrophobic place to be, so after checking with the wardens that the club (and it's heated conservatory that allows dogs) was open every night the booking was made.
It does seem like an awfully long time since we pulled out of Trevedra, probably longer for Herself as she's not been away at all since. I've had a conference to attend that involved a night away in a nice hotel. I loved the hotel, so much so that I've gone out and purchased a set of their very large and fluffy towels for the caravan!
Friday 20 October
More observant regular readers will have noticed that we holiday quite frequently in the west country, and that the start to most of our trips have a familiar ring to them. M4 through South Wales, over the Second Severn Crossing before turning right and right again. It's just the distance after this bit that varies.
We had left at half one and traffic was lights as we cruised along the M4 in the sun shine, and I'm starting to think that the threats of Storm Brian were a little far fetched.
Once on the M5 the skies closed in on us as we hit a wall of traffic, and it was stop start until we'd cleared Weston - actually more stop than start! The going is slow and the clock is ticking. My stomach is also rumbling and Herself senses the tension in my voice as I start to muse about the anticipated traffic jams at Exeter, Newton Abbot and Paignton.
A comfort break at Taunton Dean is suggested where Herself takes the opportunity to throw a purple one in the direction of the golden arches, knowing full well that me in a traffic jam is a much more palatable proposition with a full belly.
What I love about the motorway service areas is that they are very eager to please. I asked “Can you charge me £7.99 for that Big Mac meal that is just £5.50 in thee Mc Donalds just down the road?” and she said “No problem, I can do that for you, what else would you like?”
We get to Exeter and hit a wall of tail lights, this clears and I start to brace myself for Telegraph Hill, as we ring the site to let them know we have been delayed.
It's 6pm by the tine we're pulling into the site, and it's half light as I reverse down the cul de sac onto our pitch.
Storm Brian is starting to make his presence felt and we decide to leave the awning tonight, settling down for the evening as he howls around us.
Saturday 21 October
Even though the wind is howling, and without any heating on, we are toasty warm all night and I get up at around 8am and light a flame under the kettle. Twitter tells me that Brian is wreaking havoc and he flexes his muscles.
It's dry at Hillhead (for now) but very windy. The plan for today is to head down to Paignton sea front and watch some big storm driven waves.
Now many people love sitting in a caravan for hours on end with the rain hammering on the roof claiming it to be nice and cosy as well as therapeutic. I don't see the attraction myself, much the same as The Ludfords whose excellent blog can be read HERE.
You see, in such a confined space it's hard to ignore each other and communication unavoidable. At first it's a novelty to be grunting at each other, but after a few hours you run out of different tone grunts!
With bacon rolls quaffed we pile into Vera and are encouraged as we drop down into Paignton with trees bending over double in the wind, and we're looking forward to some serious wave watching.
The sea front is busy, but despite it blowing a hoolie the sea is like a millpond. Herself grunts her disapproval at me because I've dragged her from the nice warm confines of the caravan.
We throw a ball for the dogs before clipping them on their leads to walk up the man drag. We'd not got far and Gwawr starts to get bothered, then her rear end exploded, right outside an arcade!
It's not pick up able so I ask for a bucket of water to wash down the pavement into the drain. At first they were not too keen. Something about Health and Safety. I said "It's a bucket of water mun." and only after threatening to leave it there they passed one over!
Herself's nerves now need calming so we take an outside seat at the first pub, joining a crowd of smokers and vapers under the canopy, and partake in some alcoholic refreshments. It was a little early in the day, but the rest of the clientele didn't seem too bothered about where the hands were on the clock face ...... infact a few probably couldn't see the clock.
We made tracks back to site via Sainsbuys where I made the fatal mistake of leaving Herself unattended at the Deli counter.
What I like about Sainsburys is how helpful they are in there.
"Do you have anything more expensive than the 50p onion bhajis that they sell in Asda?"
"Yes of course, we have these ones that are smaller and marked up at £1.25."
"Oh, lovely, I'll take two."
Still it made for a splendid lunch back at HQ with the sun streaming through the windows.
A lazy afternoon was had. Herself slept off lunch while I ripped apart all the cupboards in an attempt to find my mifi.
I didn't find it and left Herself to put the contents back. Well she did say she wanted to tidy them up a bit.
With the wind howling and the rain lashing I've still my "outside" jobs to do. I know we're on serviced pitch but the bog still needs emptying and the rubbish taking to the bin. Herself suggests leaving it until the rain blows over, but I ignore her.
I'm sat in the van in just a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. I warp up against the elements by putting on a fleece, my Mongo hat and a pair of flip flops.
All was well until I was 20m from the service point when a gust took my hat with it and I looked on helplessly as it rolled into the distance. I then remembered how much it cost and dumped the bucket of turds and rubbish bag, setting off in pursuit at top speed.
When you're the wrong side of 20 stone and wearing flip flops, the top speed waddle, even if hilarious to the many watching from their front windows, is not exactly going to trouble Lynford Cristie!
I chased the hat half way to Brixham before it got trapped in a Hedge, before returning back up the hill to empty the bucket!
My Facebook timeline is full of pictures of Storm Brian in full swing in both Cornwall to our west and Lyme Regis to our east. We figure the sea must have summoned up the energy to put on a show round here by now too, so in howling wind and lashing rain we head off out and down into Brixham.
Like a mill pond it was.
Back on site we take the dogs for a walk as it gets dark (Herself looks like a moving lighthouse with her supadupa LED torch) before settling down for the evening with a plate full of good old fashioned comfort food - potch with sausages and onion gravy.
I hope Brain has cleared off by the morning as we want to put up our new canopy.
Sunday 22 October
I'd noticed during my nighttime excursions that the wind had dropped, and when I wake up and release the spring on the roof light the sight that greets me is blue skies and still tree branches.
I'm under no illusion that it's going to stay like this for long, but I didn't anticipate the wind picking back up as soon as I unrolled our new canopy. Oh and it's got colder.
The canopy goes up easily, except for the two occasions that I missed the rock pegs and brought the 3.5 lb lump hammer crashing down onto my freezing cold knuckles. Still after little over 15 mins I am now able to announce to Facebookville that "We is properly arrived!"
Herself had been busying herself knocking up a simple breakfast of sourdough eggy bread that was wolfed down while hatching a vague plan for the day that looked no further than going over the river to Dartmouth.
Before leaving we stop off at the dog walk and throw a ball for Tali while soaking up the view of Torbay below.
With us now confident that the dogs energy levels have dropped sufficiently to lessen the odds of them pulling our arms off in a confined space we roll down the hill to the Lower Ferry and catch it over the river.
As we approach the opposite bank it's evident that there's some sort of festival ongoing, with bunting everywhere and a few large marquees erected on the quayside. As Vera climbs the concrete landing ramp we hit a wall of people and cars.
We've arrived at the Dartmouth Food and Drink Festival, at the same time as the rest of south Devon. Lets just say that finding a spot to abandon Vera was not exactly easy, but after just 3 circuits of the one way system and a bit of car jousting in the car parks, we time it right and skid into a spot as someone was vacating it on the quayside - for free!
I was about to give up, but Herself suggested one more try of the area by the upper ferry. I'd initially dismissed it as a lost cause but played along. Herself hasn't stopped reminding me yet that she was right, I'm sure she's after a medal or something.
It wasn't long before my breakfast was a distant memory, and the smells filling the air had me salivating.
Gwawr was a bit skitty, so Herself held onto the dogs outside the big tents and I went in to have a mosey, grabbing free samples of expensive cheese and other delightful morsels before emerging at the other end.
My solo excursions were not without incident however. Without Herself at my side to keep me in check I had a little bit of an altercation with a daft bint. You see due to the sheer numbers of people passing through the tents they have a one way system in operation. This is highlighted by sets of mahoosive letters over the entrance and exits saying "WAY IN" and "NO ENTRY"
I am 3/4 the way through tent 2 and making progress becomes a little more difficult. Some daft old bird and her equally daft grown up daughter have come in through the exit and are threading their way through the throng. One advantage (if you like) of being my build is that you can fill up a gangway.
"Excuse me, could you move to one side?"
"No."
"But I'm trying to get through."
"I can see that, but you're going the wrong way."
"But I want to go to that stall there."
She points at a stall 5m behind me.
"Then you'll just have to start at the other end like everyone else."
She huffed and puffed before swearing at me, turning around and shouting something or other that involved the words fat bastard.
"You're welcome" I bellowed.
The festival was great with many stalls selling overpriced wares. Wood fired grills and ovens seem to be the theme and the air is filled with the aroma of wood smoke and sizzling meat. There were some stall selling vegan offerings, but we gave those a wide berth as i don't trust those type of people!
Once we'd done all the stalls I asked Herself if she was hungry.
"Of course I am, how could I not be with all these smells about!"
"Do you want a bite to eat?"
"Well, yes! i haven't been filling my face in those tents over there, have I !"
How did she know?
We take a park bench and I nip back to the stalls to purchase some over priced pork and beef brioche sliders, a few pints of cider and finally a pizza.
Content that we'd seen enough, and wanting to get back across the river before the thousands of others decided they also wanted to, we leave Dartmouth to give the dogs another run off the leads before we return to the van to sleep off our lunch.
Our evening meal had been cooking all day in our multi-cooker. What a superb piece of kit, and the results didn't disappoint. Our late evening meal of Lamb Balti with Lamb and Mushroom rice hit the spot nicely.
The van was lovely and cosy, and with the cold wind picking up outside and thoughts of venturing back out were dispatched without a second thought as we settled down to an evening of grunting at each other.
Monday 23 October
It rained overnight and was still doing so when I peeled myself off the sheets to light a flame under the kettle.
While we breakfast on poached eggs consult @DerekTheWeather work of fiction, and he's promising that it will clear up this afternoon.
We give the dogs a good run before pointing Vera's nose towards Newton Abbot, and the rather strange Trago MIlls outlet. I mean how may other shops do you know of that have their own miniature railway and theme park?
The place is quite busy, and as we don't really need anything we lose interest quite quickly, just picking up some tennis balls to throw for Tali.
It's quite warm as we exit and with a few pasties purchased we point Vera's nose towards Dartmoor with the intention of finding a tidy spot to stop for lunch.
We'd not been climbing long and we're enveloped in mist and rain. Herself remarks at how lovely the view is, and somehow the deterioration in the weather is my fault.
With lunch out of the way we head back to lower lying ground. We'd not lost too much altitude when the air starts to clear a bit - well, outside Vera anyway - and I pull in to take the dogs for a short walk.
Having been out in the cold and damp air to eat lunch, Herself is now in the mode of "see the world from the comfort of Vera" and does not join us.
As we drop into Bovey Tracey it's a different world to the one we left 10 mins ago, with some sunshine even.
Herself lost an earring last night and had muted the idea of a replacement. Ever quick on the uptake I point Vera towards Torquay, only by the time I've jostled with the traffic she's changed her mind!
We continue to Goodrington Sands where Vera is abandoned as we take a walk along the front admiring all the attractions that have closed for the season and not bothered to open back up for half term.
We take a table outside the Quayside Inn. What a charming name for an absolute craphole! I know Brewers Fayre joints can be rough, but this one wins handsdown.
Morrisons benefits from our custom on the way back to HQ, and with the light fading we settle down for the evening with a simple tea of fishcakes and chips.
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