Finally, after months of preparation, planning, packing, unpacking and repacking (and our very wet maiden voyage) the time came to head off on the Great Adventure proper.
The plan was to set a course straight up to Scotland and spend a couple of nights in Moffat as a stopover before heading on up to Loch Lomond for a few more days, prior to continuing the journey ever northwards. It was not due to any form of navigational error that we that we actually ended up in Pickering, North Yorkshire instead. Such is the free-form nature of this trip that we are at liberty to follow the weather, which was good in Pickering and not so good at all pretty much anywhere north of the border.
Surprisingly, the target departure time of 12 noon was only missed by half an hour (which must be a record for us!) because the tyre pressure sensor monitor thingy in the cab showed a slight deflation in the left rear tyre. Unfortunately the specially bought, heavy-duty, industrial grade compressor which could inflate a party-size bouncy castle in seconds couldn’t be used as the battery, to which the compressor needed to be clamped, couldn’t be found in the engine bay! (It’s under the passenger seat, apparently)
With the industrial-grade but now potentially useless compressor duly packed away (accompanied by much tutting and eye-rolling from Annie) we finally set off on the Great Adventure and turned our mighty steed in the direction of the local Shell Garage where they have an air pump that actually works.
The rest of the journey was uneventful and very pleasant in the gorgeous sunshine, which definitely lifted the spirits after our last trip!
The route we were following into Pickering took us up the A170 and eventually to the notorious Sutton Bank; a 1-in-4 (or 25% if you prefer) gradient with a very tight hairpin bend halfway up. For several miles prior to this epic, alpine-esque feat of civil engineering there had been a number of very stern road signs warning that “absolutely no caravans, heavy goods vehicles or pensioners with questionable driving skills” should attempt this route under any circumstances! As we were none of the above we pressed on undaunted.
This thing was S-T-E-E-P with a capital S (and T,E,E and P come to that!) On the day prior to departure we had visited the local weighbridge just to make sure that Wilma was actually within the legal weight limits, in our case under 3,500Kg. In fact, with full fuel and gas tanks, 50 litres of fresh water and us two, Jack (the dog) and all the various essential bits and pieces for life on the road, she weighed in at a svelte 3,380Kg. All well and good chugging along normal roads but trying to haul that weight up Sutton Bank proved a savage wake-up call to the, still new, engine but in the end, although we struggled to get above 30mph with a following wind, we made it to the summit with sighs of relief all round. Or maybe that was the engine blowing a gasket. Thankfully, at the top there was a carpark for a quick stop to get our collective breaths back and for Jack to relieve himself after the rectum-clenching ascent. It occurred to me that, hairy though coming UP the bank was, going DOWN it in winter months would be strictly a brown-trouser affair.
Thirty minutes later Pickering arrived and shortly afterwards we found our home for the next three days: namely the Black Bull Caravan Park neatly nestled behind the pub of the same name (more of that later..) And what a lovely and friendly site it was.
The great thing about being in a motorhome is that once you arrive on site there’s no great amount of setting anything up to do, unlike with a caravan or tent. Thus, we simply pulled onto our pitch, plugged in the electric and put the kettle on before getting the chairs out and enjoying the last of the evening sunshine. Yes, sunshine!