Le Mans, Spiderman-esque building antics and pepper spray ...

Back at Le Mans again for the 2015 race!

It's always a magical mix of motorsport and festival coupled with lots and lots of beers!

A group of my friends and I convoyed down, via the ferry, me with the van to sleep in, and the others toting tents. Spirits were high, we'd been before and knew what to expect. This time we were prepared!

After getting settled in we hurried up to the track for a pitside walk around. People were arriving and the arenas were filling up. Beer flows easily at Le Mans and it's only a few waking hours before everything slides in to a hazy stumble between padocks, stalls and bars.

There's no drinking for the teams though, as they have their vehicles in bits, building engines and tweaking the machines to give the maximum performance vs. endurance possible.

Le Mans is famed for it's long running time and experimental technologies. This year Nissan were trying out a whole new, all electric vehicle.... We saw it start, along with the other more conventional motors, and promptly saw it finish as it dipped out a couple of laps in to the race. A bit disappointing if I'm honest as the idea of future tech being successful appeals to me.

The Saturday night is renowned for being a boisterous night out on the public roundabouts near the main campsites of Le Mans.

Beausjour roundabout shares its name with the campsite we were based at, it is at the main entrance, making it ideal for some serious car debauchery. It is, infact, this very roundabout where I made a rooky error and thought I could play with a flare and get away with it.... Quite how I didn't learn my lesson.. I dont know.

Basically after a certain time of the evening the roundabout is surrounded by drunken car enthusiasts who then egg on and coax the drivers driving through to spin up their wheels or perform donuts... It get pretty nuts with everything from Aston Martins to Ford Fiestas all having a go.

I've ambled in to this chaos with a certain degree of dutch courage from too many beers in my belly and instantly wanted to get involved. The crowd spills out of the campsite, on to and around the roundabout with a good number of people in the road stopping and encouraging the rubber spinning. The first vehicle to pull up at the line when I arrive is a crappy old Peugeot. I'm standing on the drivers side of the car with giving it large with the arm waving and making backfiring noises (as you do!) shouting 'Bup bup bup bup!' to get the drivers going. He's revved the engine to the limiter and lets it bounce off it for a few seconds before dumping the clutch... Just as the wheels spin up a hand comes out of the drivers window with an aerosol and I'm hit smack bang in the face with an oily substance.

Instantly I'm blinded by the stuff. My mouth fills with saliva and my nose starts to run. It feels like my face had something caustic on it, maybe bleach?  I grab up the bottom of my tee shirt and try to wipe the stuff off. I thought it was WD40 at first, or some other sort of oil. It doesnt come off and I still cant see. I get very disorientated. I'm fully aware I'm stood in the middle of a roundabout with revellers and wheel spinning cars all around me.

I can't see anything and somehow end up on the floor, scared witless as I can hear the next car's engine roaring in front of me as they prepare to get their wheels spinning. All of a sudden I feel a tug on my rucksack and I'm dragged backwards. I feel the curb of the centre of the roundabout on my back and then the grass. "Are you alright?" comes a blokes voice with a thick French accent. "Yeh man... I'm good... Just can't see anything!", "Here, take this" He grabs my hand off of my face and puts a plastic cup in to it. I go to pour it on my face until he shouts, "NO no no no... It's wine, Drink it" So now I'm sat, unable to see, with a stinging face on the curbside of a roundabout drinking white wine.

Hot chilli sauce indeed

"You can't wash it off, It's pepper spray, just wait a minute" he knowledgeably informs me. "This isn't the French way, this isn't what we are all like, they're just idiots" The guy is pretty adamant he wants to get this across and keeps repeating it as he fills my cup and sits with me for the next 10 minutes.

Eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime, I can start to see again. Everything is stinging, like a really bad nettle rash. The guy checks I'm alright again and fills up my cup once more before diving back in to the foray. I'm able to get up and start cautiously staggering around trying to fathom out the chaos that's going on around me and try and find my way to the campsite entrance.

A short walk later and I enter our camp, eyes, nose, mouth all running with various liquids and swollen. "What the fuck happened to you?!" is the response from my mates... "Long story man"

It took the wind right out of my sails. Being a fully abled, fairly fit, 26 year old to a completely defenceless, totally reliant mess on the floor in the spray of an aerosol can. Scary. The plan was to head back out that night but I really wasn't feeling it. It took a good few hours before I could say my face was 'normal' again. I vowed there and then that I would never wish that upon my worst enemy.

The rest of the racing was as good as the start. We ventured out to Arnage corners one evening under the bright track lights. This year each of the cars had distinguished themselves from the others in the night time section with an array of multicoloured LED lights or strips going down the side.

Final day of racing and we were all nursing a hangover so chilled out at at the Ford chicane section just before the start straight. It started to rain a little but we braved it long enough to watch the lead GT3 driver spin out in to the kitty litter right infront of us. After 23.xx hours of driving he'd managed to bin it and subsequently hand the win to the 2nd place driver... gutting

Once the race had finished we all piled on to the start/finish straight for the awards ceremony. A little later we got on the track for a walk up towards the Dunlop bridge just after the start finish line. It felt really weird being stood on the track as it's always very protected during the race. We even walked back to our campsite by taking the track to the Porsche curves! It probably took us a good 30 minutes when it takes the cars a matter of seconds.

Annecy, Sisteron, Gorgeous Gorges...

Me with Robbie and Meg ;)

It was a little emotional leaving Sainte Foy, and the Alps, after a season of awesomeness. Saying good bye to people never has been, and I don't think ever will be, a forte of mine.

We weren't leaving alone though. Raf and his Family, Daughter Meg and Son Harvey along with Meg's boyfriend Robbie, were trucking out of town as well, and both vans were headed for warmer climes ;)

We'd decided to head South for a spot of R + R. (Because we hadn't had enough already!)

First stop out of the mountains was Annecy, a quaint little town perched on a huge Lake right at the entrance to the Alps. Kerry and I had been through Annecy before, even spending a night there, but we didn't explore properly and listening to Raf's stories it would appear we missed quite a lot!

And as it turns out Annecy is a spectacle of medieval architecture and cafe culture nestled amongst little canals from the river that feeds the Lake.

We enjoyed a day in the Palais de L'ile museum smack bang in the centre of town. It dates back to the 1300s and was first used as a prison and other associated functions like court rooms etc. At some point it was used as a Counting house and even forged some of the local area's coinage. Later in the Second World War it was turned back in to a prison of sorts, holding some Nazi Generals.

I much preferred the town at night. Not that it isn't stunning during the day. Everything is brightly lit up with different colours, giving it a jovial feel. Pubs seemed full and we enjoyed just ambling about the town, from the castle at the top of the hill down to the Lake.


Robbie is a good BMXer. I'd enjoyed an afternoon watching him ride the skate park in Bourg Sainte Maurice back in the Alps. When we were driving in to Annecy, the skatepark was the first thing he spotted. So Kerry, Meg, Harvey and I pootled down for an afternoon watching mainly kids (and Robbie) on their blades, boards, bikes and scooters. It was a nice afternoon. It made me feel like I was a teenager again, hanging out at the skatepark, doing things I wasn't meant to be doing... the good old days ;)

The days were really hot, with the sun beating down on us, but that all changed at night. We were still close to the mountains and once the sun had gone in it was time for jumpers and the van heater. We left Annecy late one day and drove South skirting past the entrances to the various valleys of the alps. Waking up the next day to find we had parked up next to a spectacular view of a ridge line... again parking in the dark is always fraught with delights!

Heading South again we entered Gorge country. The roads meandered through huge cracks in the earth, climbed steeply over huge ridgelines and plunged back in to a gorge again. Rivers ran everywhere. We were taking the route slowly as Raf's van was a little underpowered, but it was a saving grace as Kerry and I were able to take in all of the sights.

Raf's van

Raf came on the radio on one of the steeper descents down the mountainous roads that he thought he had some problems with his brakes. A daunting prospect with all of these declines!

The convoy were headed towards Sisteron and it was decided that we would stay overnight in the nice Aire de Campingcar located in the middle of the town.

Upon arrival it was clear we'd made a good decision to stop here. Sisteron is a small town located on the borders of the Alpes de Haute Provence and the Alpes de Cote d'Azure regions. It's commonly called the 'Gateway to Provence' and for a good reason. It's located on the banks of the Durance river right where two mountain ridgelines come together and plunge down to let the river flow through them. Kind of like a gateway!

Perched on one side of the river, looming above cliffs, is a medieval Citadel formed over thousands of years and seeing many a battle from the Barbarian invasion after the fall of Rome, to Napoleon passing through on his march north.

We scoured the local town for a motor factors and got Raf some new brake pads on order which were due in a couple of days later. The citadel was the perfect way to while away the days. We paid to go inside and were able to meander around the old defences as they wound their way down through various narrowing points. You get a real feel for what it must be like to try and attack these places, built on hills and heavily fortified. Arrow slits lined each gantry and sluice gates adorned each doorway.

An impressive looking bell hung at the top of a large tower which doubled up as the main water catchment for the small community. It also had very impressive views North along the Durance valley with the modern town of Sisteron spreading out to the South.

It was so hot during the day Robbie, Harvey, Kerry and I decided it'd be a good idea to investigate the shimmering blue water of the river. Robbie and I thought it was so enticing we ventured in, despite the current looking fairly strong. Luckily the side we'd picked to go in was fairly slow flowing.... but freezing freezing cold! It was obviously run off from the mountains and it took our breath away! Harvey, being 10 years old and obviously much wiser than us, decided to stay on the river bank!

Raf's brake pads finally came in and we had a morning of engineering, removing the old, very worn ones and fitting the new ones.

Then we were off, heading for the coast and a bit of seaside. We showed Raf, Meg, Robbie and Harvey the delights of Port Grimaud, St Raphael and all of the coast between Cannes and Sainte Tropez where Kerry and I have frequently spent a couple of weeks whiling away the time.

As we progressed Westward the weather started to turn for the worse. Robbie and Harvey were looking forward to a few days riding a huge skatepark in Marseille, however, with the looming weather looking to last atleast a week Kerry and I decided to say good bye to the other van and speed North, cutting the 750 miles through the Centre of France in a day and catching the midweek (cheap) ferry to get back to Blighty.

The practicalities of living in a van in the Alps...

A lot of people are amazed when I say I live in a van... But then when I tell them I lived in a van for 4 months at 1550 metres above sea level in the French Alps... Well then they think I'm a mad man.... But I'm not! There are a lot of people doing it! So just what does it entail?

Well it's cold. I'm not going to lie, there are points where you are colder than Cruella de Vil's heart and you want nothing more than 101 Dalmatians to snuggle up around you in a massive puppy duvet. (Canooie sat on my lap did help a little)
Heating

No matter what heating system you have, wood burning stove, propane gas or diesel heater, it's going to be cold when you come back from the pub, snowboarding, shopping, anything where you leave your van for a period of time. 

So getting the heater on is the main priority. Once you are generating head, insulation is key. We used 25mm celotex all around our van, sometimes doubling it up to give extra protection against your precious heat escaping. Take note and insulate the floor. Wind rushing under your van will wick away that heat as well.

Research well on the system you want to take... Burning propane in any way will generate a lot of water, hot water, that condenses on cold surfaces, ie metal vans! Wood burning stoves are hot, really really hot! and require labour intensive fuel, ie wood. Diesel heaters use 12 volt electricity to initially heat it's glow plug. Factor this in to your power generation. (more later)

Even with heating expect the cold. We regularly woke up to -6 Degrees C INSIDE the van. It took our Diesel Eberspacher D2 30 minutes to get the van up to a comfortable 12 Degrees.

We also partitioned the van, sectioning the driving part from the living part using A LOT of blankets. This in effect gave us a 'fridge' like climate in the driving bay where we stored our perishable food.
Water

The essential element. Without it we die. So go get it. In Sainte Foy, Tarentaise this meant taking a walk up to the nearest 'Basin' (normally used for horses) This water literally runs off of the mountain and in to the trough. It's the best water you can get.... But it's heavy. We used multiple jerry cans to cut down on the number of time we would have to do a water run. 2 of these weigh a hefty Forty Kilos. The van park would group together if anyone was headed for water in a vehicle so a car or van could be used to bring the water vessels down.... Make friends when it comes to water! Failing that, acquire a sledge!

Some ski resorts will have an established 'Aire de Camping-Car' which may have services. Sometimes these are paid for, or even provided free. Enquire with the resort you are headed to.

If you have a van with pipes running under, or even through your van, take in to account these WILL freeze unless you lag them well. Temperatures got to -25 degrees C on our van season, and we had a relatively warm season!
Cooking

Everyone cooks on gas. Bottles are readily available in the alps as there is no 'running gas' up in the mountains. The petrol stations have huge areas for all types. Take note that Butane will freeze in the winter and you wont be able to cook, so get Propane.

To cut down costs we purchased a Gaslow re-fillable gas bottle system. Whilst pricey to start with it soon pays for itself as it costs just 7 Euros to fill up at an LPG petrol pump, instead of the 20 - 30 Euro bottle exchange. If you are going to be in your van for a long time, I'd suggest looking in to it. Remember to buy the Euro converters for the filling point.

I'd suggest grouping together as vans when cooking. It's much nicer to eat communally, and this spreads the load between hobs. We regularly divvied out the individual components of that evenings meals between vans before coming together and sharing the food with a few beers and stories of peoples bails, sketchy avalanche moments and so-and-so having to walk for 50 minutes out of the powder.
Power

Being toasty warm with water to drink, cook and wash with is all great, but when it gets dark you want some lights to see. This means energy generation, storage and utilisation. We used a couple of 100W solar panels on the roof of the van to generate energy which was stored in 2 110aH 12 volt deep cycle leisure batteries.

From these batteries we powered a string of LED lights, the Diesel heater, water pump for the sink and a few 12 volt cigarette and 5 volt USB outlets for charging laptops and mobile phones.

We struggled with electrical energy. The diesel heater would draw a lot of energy when it first started. This scared us and we would leave the heater for a bit and turn it off. We learnt that this was not the way to play the game. Instead, leaving the heater on, meant it soon had enough heat in it to perpetuate the diesel part of the heating and the current draw would die off to a very small amount.

Charging things when you can away from the van helped a lot. There would regularly be two or three rucksacks with laptops in sat next to a power outlet in the pub. As long as you are buying beer, this should be fine, do it!

The sun in the alps during winter can pass very low in the sky. To get optimum power generation we had the panels tilted towards the suns direction via the use of some simple tilting mounts. Just remember to put them down again if you are going to move the van!

Obviously when you get that huge dump of snow at night and wake up to a blue bird day you'll be wanting to throw your gear on and get on the hill. Grab a broom and brush those panels down. The sun wont penetrate the snow at all, and you'll need that potential energy later!
Clothing

Remember... It's cold! The best way to stay warm is to be warm all the time. Invest in long johns, wear them. I wore long johns most of the time, when boarding, in the pub, in bed. Most of the time.

Hats are also your friend. You'll soon find yourself with permanent hat hair... but no one can see as you've always got your hat on!

Wees and Poos

Yes yes, I've got to mention it. It's inevitable you'll need the porcelain at least a couple of times during the season. Personally we went with a simple cassette toilet that sits in our shower tray. They're easy to use, ignore the manufacturer wanting you to buy they're 'ultra digestible' ultra high priced toilet rolls and just buy the cheapest ones you can find in the supermarket. They're just as flimsy!

Cassette toilet liquid was fairly difficult to find in the Alps for some reason, so maybe stock up when you do find some. With the cold temperatures we had no issue with smells. Having said that we used it mainly for just Wees unless it was an emergency.

Once you live in a van, whether in the alps or anywhere else, you soon get in to check with your movements. Everyone in the van park would subconsciously have a little 'Do I need it?' mental check before leaving a restaurant, pub, chalet etc.

Personally I found that I was ready to go each morning after boiling the kettle and walking up to the tourist office with a coffee. (usually in my PJs to the amusement of some tourists)

Disposal of the cassette was down a man hole cover the resort had lifted for us. Again other resorts may have a more established van park and supply a proper waste pit, maybe even a drive over one for the bigger vans.
Showering

Nicknamed  'The Great Unwashed' by the rest of resort was more a tongue in cheek joke than a true statement (For the majority!). Our showering system was 3 large kettles of boiling water mixed with the same volume of cold water, giving a 5 - 7 minute pleasantly warm shower.

Getting ad hoc work in the winter season is especially easy as you are living in your own accommodation, are available short notice, and are pretty reliable compared to flippant seasonnaires working they're nuts off! 'A quick shower' should always be appended when negotiating a wage. Wake up early, shovel snow for a couple of hours, quick shower, then hit the slopes. Those 2 hours of work should pay for lunch or a night in the bar!

We soon discovered that the larger complex's on resort have very pleasant spa facilities. Now I'm not condoning the unsolicited use of these facilities in any way.... but I did. A confident demeanor, generally clean atire and a a little 'Bon Soiree' to the concierge on the way in usually resulted in a wave back and an hour long soak in a jacuzzi. Quite how they didn't recognise me after a month of nearly daily use... I'll never know.
Condensation

Wicked... You're boarding every day, showering, cooking and living in your van. #vanlife! But your creating a hell of a lot of warm moist air, even when breathing whilst asleep, pumping out litres of the stuff. This HAS to go somewhere, otherwise you'll develop a lot of condensation. It'll gather mainly on windows and other cold surfaces, but if it get really bad, may start to develop on carpeted walls and other places you really don't want it. Take a lot of towels with you. They're good for soaking up pools of water.

If it's a sunny day in the Alps (of which there are many!) open your van up, give it a good airing, try and change the air in your van as much as possible. At night, when its freezing, or when its snowing, this is obviously not possible. But good air exchanges will keep your van moisture, and mould free.

We installed a roof vent in to our van and this was cracked open a little most of the time, allowing hot rising, moisture laden air, out in to the open and pulling fresher are in through door seals and vents lower down in the van. A constant stream of ventilation. At the end of the day its managing to get a happy medium between good air exchange and staying warm. A fine art!

Winter Snowboarding in a campervan in the Alps - 14/15...

Queueing for the Ferry

Leaving for the Alps was a jubilant time. I'd taken on a job working nights at Heathrow airport, it paid handsomely and was the driving financial force behind building our van . Now all that work was done and it was finally time to test her out, escape and get back on that snow! We had spent Christmas and New Year at home with our families and friends and left for the alps on the 4th of January.

Learning Snow Chains fast!

The drive was pretty boring as per usual. Until night fell just as the rain started to. We were driving through torrential rain and it was nearly impossible to see more than a couple of cars in front. We decided to call it quits and hunker down in the back of our new van ready for the last couple of hours drive to Sainte Foy in the morning. The back of our van was chocka block with pallet wood, snowboard bags, water containers.... a lot of stuff. So sleeping that night involved precariously moving the larger things off of our bed and to the front of the van. We snuggled down amongst the smaller things!

Home for the Season!

The next morning we eagerly pushed forward, just wanting to be there! We drove through a tunnel and emerged in to a winter wonderland of snow. We were still a couple of hours drive from the alps but the snow was here and it was awesome. The driving was ok as the roads were fairly clear, but the scenery changed from the drab, lifeless expanse of Northern France to a majestic, interesting mix of mountain foothills and snow..... the stuff we were coming for!

It wasn't until we reached the bottom of the mountain road up to Sainte Foy Station that the adventure really started to begin. We managed a whole 20 metres of the steep incline before grinding to a halt and suddenly sliding backwards, even with the brakes on! The road had a dusting of snow on it, but that was enough for the van to loose traction and for us to slide back down the hill. I now had the unenviable, yet necessary, task of learning how to put snow chains on in minus digit temperatures! After about 20 minutes of swearing and one pair of very very cold hands, the truck had the chains on and we were off, back up the hill!

Driving in to the van park was exciting. We'd been down to the van park a few times in the two previous seasons we'd worked in Sainte Foy, and we knew a few people with vans who were already here. We soon got the van parked up and settled in to introducing ourselves and cooking our fellow van mates, Mel and James, a nice curry! We were in our new home for the season!

Mel and Canooie

It took us a few weeks but after a while we felt really at home. The sense of community in 'The Van Park' is a really strong thing. There was 9 or 10 vans parked up, most for the entire season. The majority of people were English, a mixture of couples, a whole family and singletons. Our neighbour, Elise, was a French girl. Over the course of the season we tried to teach each other French and English, mainly when very drunk, thinking we were speaking legible sentences, only to wake up hungover and sit and have breakfast and realise that neither of us had learnt anything! She had a cute little dog called Canooie who would nip around the van park, jumping triple her height and making everyone laugh.

Overall the season was fairly poor for snow. It dumped seriously only four times, and for Sainte Foy, a predominantly off piste resort, was a disaster for all us powder hounds, longing for the fresh stuff. But it didn't put a downer on the season, far from it. For instance one day we took an hour long trek through the winter wonderland to visit a frozen waterfall. I was picturing a nice little river that'd frozen over... When we got there I was taken aback by the sheer scale of the thing. It must have been over 10 stories high, we struggled to see the top.

James even took a precarious little climb up a bit of it. I, being terrified of heights normally let alone on a slippery frozen bloody waterfall, stayed firmly on the, not quite so slippery, snow.

I much preferred this type of season. Not having to wake up EVERY morning to start cooking breakfast at 7 was bliss. Instead we normally got up when we heard someone else was awake in the van park. (usually around 11am!). We'd each take it in turns to do the bakery run, where fellow Trailer Trash, Bekx, worked (free bread and pastries!). Someone would have a kettle boiling and fresh coffee on the go, then another van would heat up a pan ready to cook eggs and sausages. Utter bliss if you ask me. We'd sit in the sun, play with Canooie, scoff our breakfasts and have a proper communal natter before hitting the slopes (or the pub)

Breakie, alp style...

We rode together most days too, taking lines you normally wouldn't or going on day long back country outings, taking bags full of wine and cheese and bread.

One memorable trip out was to a nearby resort called La Rosiere. It is situated on the French/Italian. We were all proficient boarders and nipped about the mountain, taking advantage of the boarder cross tracks and snow park sections that we didn't have the luxury of having in Sainte Foy. For me the boarder cross was wicked. I got really competitive and one little mistake could make or break a win in the race. The mountain was noisy with us all whooping and laughing.

Over in Italy we sat down for a massive group meal. I had to go native and have a Calzone. When we went to order wine the patron of the restaurant said he'd a red that was on offer. It came in huge 3 litre sized bottles and we all delved in. On the chair lift back up to the peak where we would ride back to France we were all starting to feel pretty drunk. It wasn't until we tried to ride out of the chair station and down the mountain that we realised quite how drunk! People were catching edges, catching falls, riding things they shouldn't and generally having the best time, drunk, on snowboards. We must have looked a right sight, 20 odd people charging around the mountain.

The Pistaires (Mountain Security) kindly invited 'The Great Unwashed' (us) to one of their candle lit descent evening. We all caught the last chair lift up the mountain at the end of the day and was treated to a BBQ feast. It was such a good evening, chilling on the top of a freaking mountain with the sun setting down the Tarentaise Valley.

Everyone helped build a mahoosive bonfire with old piste markers and pallets. It was lit just before the sun dipped out of view and we huddled round, tunes blaring. Some torches were scattered liberally amongst the group and lit off of the fire as it died out. Then the hairy process of snowboarding with 60 or 70 other people, some holding flaming sticks and all wearing polyester.... in the pitch black. It was a truly bizarre feeling, not seeing too well infront of you, knowing where the dips were, what terrain was coming up. I could just hear the scrape scrape scrape of boards and skis on the piste. In front was a gentle swishing of twinkling flames swaying from side to side as people ski'd down. It was an unforgettable experience and I felt very privileged to have been invited by the locals.

One lazy day (could have been a Sunday, but every day was just a Funday) Kerry and I were taken along to an abandoned hotel perched just above the main town in the valley. It was being built on top of a rare hot spring, and was to use the spring water in it's swimming pool complex, however, during construction the spring was ruined and the flow of water was reduced to a trickle. The project was abandoned and the building left to ruin.

There were a couple of French Graffiti artists throwing up some pieces when we got there. The pool was nearly finished, complete with precariously crumbling diving board. The main building was in a bad way. The steel reinforced stair case had crumbled away so much that even Canooie started to shake with fear as Mel started to walk up higher than the fourth floor. She got really spooked and wasn't right until we got back down to the road and put her on the floor.

We found where the hot spring used to run in to the nearby river. It must have had some sort of metals in it because it had turned the surrounding banks and water a deep red colour. I did feel it and it was marginally warmer than the glacial run off of the river, but I wouldn't want to bathe in it!


The 'piste de resistance' of the season by far for me was the 'Jardin Party'. Everyone in the van park wanted to throw a huge end of season party for the resort, inviting everyone and anyone and generally getting funky in the Alps.

We all clubbed together and had a whip round, amassing 400 Euros in total, which was spent on BBQ food, salads, breads, cheeses etc as well as a trolley load of beers, wines and spirits. I was in the van park when Warwick's Toyota 4x4 rolled in after being to Super U. He opened up the back door to present a trolley full of booze, complete with the trolley!

The community pulled together and really made a go of it. The girls got arty and fabricated signs and banners, James got on unscrewing everyones speakers from their vans and making a pretty wicked sounding, pallet wood DJ desk. I was tasked with lighting and with the help of Hanz strung up his snowboard between two vans and lit it in LEDs as a sort of chandelier. Warwick even made up a professional looking flyer and Hanz and I spent a drunken afternoon postering the resort, making our way from pub to pub to pub (because there's only 3)

Decorations were dotted around, ranging from the typical, ski's and snowboards then on to bicycles on vans, christmas tree decorations and even a kids tractor. A few rugs and carpets were found and a chill out area constructed under tarpaulins.

The party was wicked. Shed loads of people came, from Pistaires to local workers, seasonnaires and quite a few holiday makers who'd seen the flyers up in resort and come along. We all took it in turns to man the bar or the BBQ, handing out sausages and chicken in buns.

James and a few of the other lads got he tunes going and everyone was merrily drunk in no time. It was an awesome party. The funniest thing for me was that everything, the lighting and the music, was powered from everyones solar panels and batteries. We had a mini rave thanks to the sun! and the batteries lasted until 5am...

We had a donation box floating around and was astounded to find that there was over 350 Euros in there when we cracked it open the next day. The party had cost us just 5 euros each!

 I loved my winter season in the van. Yes it was cold at times, yes it wasn't luxurious but the sense of freedom, to do as we pleased, to mingle, to eat every meal with an amazing bunch of people, to be a mini community, smack bang in the middle of the alps... that'll stay with me for ever... I'll miss those meals, I'll miss pizza night with 10 people crammed in the one van with an open, I'll miss sneaking in to the spa for a dip in the jacuzzi, I'll miss waking up to someones van door frozen shut, I'll miss the bongo playing at 3am, I'll miss the journeys back from the pub where you think 'should I really have survived that?'.

Thank you to everyone who made it such a wicked winter...

Le Mans 24 Heures 2014...

Well ... what a weekend...!

Everyone knows what the Le Mans 24 hour is...so I'm not going to reel off facts, figures and other easily obtainable snipbits of information here. Google it... This is an account of what I got up to.

My friends departed for the ferry early doors on Thursday, hoping to get there sometime in the afternoon.  I was let off work at 8pm, quickly jumping on my bike and hooning the 300 miles to Le Mans, and the campsite, like an expectant father to be who's just got the message 'it' is coming...

When I got to Le Mans around midnight the roads were grid locked. It took me 45 minutes just to navigate to our campsite, only trouble being I didn't know which colour sign our campsite had been designated. The majority of the 24 hour track is made up of normally public roads... roads that my new satnav app wanted me to take.

There was a particular road that looked a 50 meter jaunt to another road, but it was barricaded off with some 5 foot heras fencing except for a little gap that the workmen had just made, so I shot through and up to the end of the road. That's when I realised I was now sat smack bang in the middle of a huge race track straight. Parked up every 20 meters or so were flat bed trucks and mobile work lights illuminating a huge army of orange clad French dudes setting up armco barriers. One passing flat bed had an oompaloompa on the back just pointing at the barriered entry I'd just blatantly ridden through!

I eventually got to the roundabout with a drunken Ross standing on it waving his torch beam in every motorcyclists eyes. The campsite was just as much a dilemma, with Alex threatening to violently show me how many beers he'd drank earlier that day. So after a few cold ones myself we all retired by about 1:30am.

Alex, myself and Ross partying hard

After a late breakfast that morphed in to Lunch we headed to a small village on the outside of the track called Arnage, 2km down the road. It lends its name to a section of the track, and has some nice bars, restaurants and a notorious section of the high street known to host all manner of tomfoolery with fans and their cars. It was also convenient that there was a bar showing the Netherlands vs Spain game in the World Cup Competition. For some reason though the morning beers had been flowing too well and we ended up walking back to the campsite for a reason I can't remember. Getting hacked off with walking the same unpathed road some of us ended up hitchhiking with relative success.

The Dutch game was a belter by all accounts. Netherlands wooping their arch rivals Spain 5 - 1. I say by all accounts because I soon got a bit bored and instead took my beer outside to egg on the cars and bikes on the road outside the bar. It's such a mad environment to be in. There's motorheads everywhere and all they want to do is spin up their wheels or get their engines to hit the rev limiter, yet the police seem to tolerate it. Its brilliant!

After another, hop skip and a jump back to the campsite a few of us went out hunting for more tyre smoke, getting to the front entrance of the campsite and being met by a huge crowd of people all encouraging the passing cars to get those rear tyres spinning like a yoyo. We got fully involved and ended up pushing the older cars back and spraying water on to the roundabout road so they would lose traction. There was a diverse number of vehicles too, with sports cars, motorbikes, old bangers, mums out in their zafira's and one notable 7.5 tonne truck that I'm glad I didn't fall under when trying to hold it back.

It's not all about the cars... they just happen to be there!

This is all at around 11 or 12 o'clock at a vague guess. It was dark anyway. And then suddenly out came a red flare that lit up the crowd as everyone cheered and engines roared. I'd probably had waaaay too much to drink at this point and before I knew it I was stood in the middle of the road holding aforementioned flare aloft screaming "WHO ARE YA!" at the top of my voice, turning around and thrusting the flare up in the air. For some reason the entire crown seemed to instantly quiet, just leaving the mouthy Englishman screaming something at the top of his voice while waving a flare about. Phil later said they probably didn't know what to expect from me next. Until I casually put the flare back on the floor and walked back to where my mates were standing.

As with any crowd there was a few who wanted to spoil the fun. It was when glass bottles were broken on the makeshift burnout pad that we all collaboratively decided to leave. The cars that were entering the area had no idea there was glass underfoot and would then try and spin up their wheels to impress the crowd, presumably causing some damage and potentially 4 flat tyres. We couldn't take on everyone and get through to them they were spoiling the fun, so chose to abstain and leave.

Not that leaving was a particularly bad idea. We stumbled across a very noisey and lively party hosted by some German or Dutch blokes. There was a good gathering of about 40 - 50 people all mooching about and dancing to the music.

Saturday saw us all taking the tiny land train up to the start straight for a spot of hat shopping as everyone was getting burnt scalps. I woke up to a badly burnt hand from the previous nights shenanigans. Meeting the Michelin man was a pivotal point in my life. As with the French version of Asterix, I tried my best to explain that I couldn't speak French... in French. He didn't care anyway, he just wanted a cuddle.

We continued North a bit and decided to plot near a chicane for the start and followed the race quite religiously for about an hour and a half, listening intently on the radios to the commentary. There was even a little mention about the Dutch rave in the campsite! But as the afternoon wore on so did the consumption of beer and interest soon faded in the race and became more about going to the toilet every 5 minutes, chatting with people from various Scandinavian countries and relishing in the brief rain shower that cut through the otherwise sweltering weekend for 20 minutes.

I think all of us had a quick alcohol induced sleep around 3pm on one corner. Quite how I'll never know as over 50 unsilenced sports cars hooned round the track meters away from us. That evening we watched some live music on the stage and enjoyed England being thrashed 2 - 1 by some Italian people in the World Cup. Kick off wasn't until 12 at night and the temperature dropped dramatically leaving only me, Phil and Alex left standing at the end, wrapping the three of us in the foil lined rug I'd brought along.

Recovery beer at Indianapolis

Sunday was a bit of a nightmare logistically. The 6 of us were all struggling with life, as comes after a few days full of beer. Getting on the bus to one of the other corners of the 8 mile track seemed like our best bet. Getting on the bus was fraught with French favoritism that I've witnessed in the Alps before, so, when no one was looking, I popped the rear doors open and Ross and I lept in just before they closed abruptly behind us, shutting everyone else out.

When we got to the Indianapolis corner, Ross and I went in to the ticketed arena next to the track and waited for a while, cold beers in hand, to see if the others had made it on to the next bus. An hour went by and it became apparent that they weren't coming and we spent atleast 30 minutes waiting in bus queues, walking a bit, thumbing with no luck and ending up back in the bus queue for a 45 minute ride around the track's Western perimeter until we got off at the start straight.

Up at the start straight we had a walk around, checking out the jam packed stadium and eating some much needed food. The other chaps decided to stay down near the campsite so after watching the end of the race on a big monitor in the Nissan garage Ross and I made a leisurely stroll back.

After what appeared to have been an absolutely quality weekend we all decided that we'd splash out on a big meal together as a kind of closing ceremony... You know, a quite one.. ready for the drive home in the morning. Well.... I know we went back to Arnage, and I think I had some sort of sea food, but after that I have total and utter blankness except for a raging fire billowing out of our BBQ back at the tents as we burnt all of the remaining fuel.

I woke up the next morning in a dire condition. Packing away my tent so the others could take it back home before I rode the 300 miles South and back to Moto Camping Dordogne. I made it 2 miles out of the campsite before I had to sleep with my head on the kurb of a McDonalds car park for 2 hours, eat two big mac meals and ride for 5 hours cursing that 'quiet night' we'd just had.

Le Mans isn't just for car enthusiasts.... It's not for the faint hearted.... It's for anyone who enjoys having fun... And I'm going to have fun at this place for years to come!

Run to the Sun...

I've been chatting to Renske, the owner of Camping Moto Dordogne, about working on the campsite ever since I mentioned it the last time we were there... back in September of last year.

In the Euro Tunnel

The plan was initially for both myself and Kerry to work out there for the whole season, however, plans were made and when Renske contacted us again in March Kerry was unable to come and I could only manage a couple of months out of the season, but that was not a problem.

I booked my Euro Tunnel ticket through Tesco Clubcard and was all set to leave on Monday. I expected to ride half of the way there, grab some food and a nights kip in my hammock, to then continue the journey and arrive in the Dordogne on Tuesdays. That was until I'd heard some girly friends of mine were at Disneyland and invited me to crash in their hotel.

Notre Dame

The ride in to Paris was very wet. I had to try and get my all in one rain suit on at the side of the road, which isn't exactly easy when it's dry, now I was doing it in a torrential downpour which kindly stopped once I'd ridden another 2 miles. But I made it to Paris fine and had a nice ride about until I reached the road where my friends were staying in their hotel finding a comfy bar to settle in until they got back from Mickey Mousing around.

After a few texts it soon turned out that they wouldn't be back until the evening. I asked the owner of the bar if I could leave my panniers and helmet with him whilst I went for a stroll around Paris... to which he said "It iz not a Bomba non?" in a thick French accent. He put my stuff safely in his bomb proof cupboard and I was free to do as I pleased, walking down along the river to the Notre Dame which I didn't realise had one of these big bridges with millions and bigillions of padlocks all interwoven on it.

Disney Princess's

In front of the massive, yet gradually more boring (as I am finding these religious sites) church of Notre Dame was a more interesting bread exhibition, if you can get your head around the that fact. There were demonstrations on kneading and the different plaits to make different shapes.

Then I thought I'd wile away the time in a few different bars. One particular bar was in the middle of a square and neighboured a Nike running shop that just so happened to be hosting a 10k, women only jog around the French capital. The waiter in the bar came out and sat with me as we were entertained by hundreds of women clad in running gear, stretching and chatting before a guy with a boombox on his back started pumping music. He gave a little speech (in French) and then they were off.

I rescued my bags and the girls finally met me at a small bar near their hotel. We had a few drinks before getting a relatively early night. I got a pretty good kip lying on their floor, enough to snore! (Apparently) In the morning I said my goodbyes and started the long trek down to sunnier climes. This time not getting caught out when the rain came as I wore my suit the whole way. Surprisingly I recognised the way once I'd got to a small town called Gourdon and didn't need to use and satnav.

So what am I doing at Camping Moto Dordogne?? Well, primarily I'm the Handyman but get involved in being Barman/Chief Pool Tester and Underwater Ceramic Detailer (Washer Upper). I've been given a nice little caravan to live in and have my bike to nip out and about on these wonderful roads. The campsite is owned by a Dutch lady, Renske, and mainly attracts Dutch and British motorcyclists looking for a party atmosphere in the middle of spectacular surroundings.

These two are Ollie and Vincent. Ollie is a special type of Water Dog from the Dutch province of Freisland, where Renske comes from. They are trained to be gun dogs and used to retrieve game from wetlands. His coat is very thick and curly with a sort of wax texture so we doesn't get wet in the water. He's a 'Lone wolf' and just pootles about doing his own thing. Vincent on the other hand has been nicknamed 'The Shadow' and he has specifically taken a liking to me, following me around for the entire day until either I or he goes to bed. He loves sticks and I can be busy mowing the lawn or fixing something when I turn around to find he has yet another stick. His mother had a nipple infection and bit his ear off when he was 3 days old because his suckling hurt her. That's why he's called Vincent after the famous van Gogh who severed his own ear off.

A toad I fished out of the pool who then
hopped off happy as larry

My normal daily duties include putting Robbie, a robotic pool cleaner, in for his morning work, fishing out all number of frogs, toads, salamanders, mice and rodents that manage to find their way in to the pool, most dead...some still alive. Then I tend to the grounds, mowing the lawns, strimming the verges and weeding the flower beds. The pool has to be kept at a certain pH level and have a specific chlorine content. Then there is the handyman things with people breaking stuff or new bits to install. Heck, even watering the plants takes me an hour, and can only be done at night once the sun has gone down.

During the afternoons I like to chill by the pool, go for a ride out to any number of local scenic spots or chat with the guests on the terrace. It's been getting really hot recently. Sometimes as hot as 35 degrees C!

The people who turn up are the real attraction. Chatting to one English bloke, Brian, the other day resulted in a lot of lust for the road. He'd been made redundant from his job and his wife had left him when he was 40. He then walked around Europe and Northern Africa for 2 years, working as he went and sustaining himself. He ended up in Israel where conscription was still enforced for every 18 year old, male or female. Anyone in the Israeli army must carry their weapon 24 hours a day, even when off duty. So it wasn't a strange sight to see a young lad shopping in the supermarket with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. Brian had to ask one young lady to "Please move that Uzi so it isn't pointing at my crotch" when he was on a local bus. He said she smiled but didn't move it.

Then of course the bikes. And everything from old 1974 Moto Guzzi's to brand new BMW's and chopped and customised Harleys and cruisers pass through. Some even have trailers and huge tents! The number of people riding with their partner on the back is also quite surprising. Perhaps It's something Kerry and I could do?

But now I'm packing my bike up again with just the essentials as I head North for 300 miles to watch the Le Mans 24 hour race...