Poole, Dorset

This travelling is exhausting Marge. We'd not long been in bed last night when a third van arrived. Four times the side sliding door was opened and shut within a few minutes of its arrival. Oh no, not again! Vans like ours are not called 'slam and bangs' for nothing. But please, owners, don't overdo it. 

This morning a fair breeze blew down the canal. The revellers from the narrow boats, in bed by ten with not a note of loud music played, sat in their chairs, mugs in hand, dark glasses shielding their eyes. A pair of swans beat their wings noisily on the water as they clumsily took off, just what you need if you're hung over. 

Sometime today we must return home. We have a funeral to attend tomorrow, a French door being fitted Thursday and visitors for the weekend. No time for galivanting this week Marge.

But before leaving Devizes we walked into town to buy lunch which we we ate sat by the canal, watching the visitors and the world go by. Nearby a young man was fitting a window in his van conversion. When he'd finished, where would he travel we wondered.

Late afternoon soon came around and we took one last look at the little blue tit as it poked its head out of the cigarette waste box it had commandeered as its chosen nesting place.

Back at Poole, the Magic of Thailand Festival was over and the hasty packing up of stalls begun. We walked down to the quay hoping that all the rubbish left by the weekend revellers would be cleared away by the council workers in the morning. Open mic night was underway outside one of the bars and we stopped a while to listen. We have had an enjoyable time away in Marge this last week and realise how lucky we are to have the opportunity to go off in her when ever we choose. We hardly dare say it, but she's been on top form recently. 

Fox cubs spotted on our way home looking out from their den under someone's decking on our estate.

Devizes

By eight-thirty this morning half of the other vans had left, including our neighbour who had a fixation with opening and shutting his van doors even during the night. Thank god he's gone Marge. Some of the remaining van owners set up chairs and basked in the early morning sun, already warm. And why not? The imposing ruins of the abbey cast a shadow over us. It knew our secret, that we'd all been there overnight. 

Needing to move closer to home we decided to take the M4 motorway, a fast, wide road with no 'tricky bits' for Marge to negotiate. The historic market town of Devizes in Wiltshire our destination.

We have stayed overnight here by the canal a few times before, so we knew the set up, and the people. Some of the boat owners were in full merriment when we arrived at lunchtime. Barbecues lit, and a flagon of cider doing the rounds.

We parked Marge discreetly, lunched and walked along the towpath to the Caen Lock cafe for ice creams.

Upon our return to Marge, all was quiet until the hum of aeroplane engines approached. A formation of ten tiger moths passed over. Quite a sight.

Early evening the rich sweet languid smell of the barbecues filled our nostrils once again. No doubt there will be more cider doing the rounds and a little loud music to finish the evening. As long as there's no slamming of vehicle doors, we'll tolerate it!

Tintern

See Marge, the local people are pleased to see you. We were greeted with a hello or good morning from everyone who walked past us as we breakfasted. And guess what.

After we watched the canoe hire companies unload the boats from their trailers we walked into town and spent more money, at Aldi and the book shop. 

Right Marge, we need to visit Symonds Yat. Please make sure you don't take us down any narrow, steep roads where we might meet lots of oncoming vehicles. You guessed it. She did! After angry looks, sounding horns, and Angela almost giving up on Marge we arrived at the car park at Symonds Yat Rock, home of an old iron age fort built around 2,500 years ago.

We walked to the viewpoint where we were rewarded with stunning views down to and along the river wye. We talked a while with a lady from Abergavenny who owned a micro camper. She was desperate to retire, but had fourteen years to wait yet. We sympathised with her and hoped her lottery ticket for tonight in which she held high hopes worked out for her.

We had come to the area to view the rapids, so took the path downhill to the river, well aware that the climb back up would be difficult.

The water raced through the rocks. The rapids are classed as grade 2. John was excited at the prospect of pack rafting through them later this year. Angela was not! 

After pacing ourselves on the return walk, we refreshed ourselves with ice lollies. Then began the onward journey to Tintern Abbey where, despite No overnight parking signs, we were told by the staff in the adjacent pub, The Anchor Inn, that it was O.K. to stay over. So we have. Along with at least eighteen other vans. Rules, what rules?

Ross-on-Wye

Two nights back at home, garden tidied, planning permission for our new balcony granted, but when it will be installed, who knows? So, Marge, if you're up for it let's go away. Last year we visited some of the areas around the river Wye, and as John is keen for us to packraft the river sometime this year, we thought we'd go back and take another look around.

It was nearly mid afternoon when we left Poole so we decided to break our journey at Chepstow where we stopped twice last year in the parking area by the castle. Apparently we won't be staying here anymore. Sign now states 'no overnight dwelling'. We didn't want to live there, just stay a night. Oh, and spend money in the town. Sorry Chepstow that your council is so narrow minded.

So it was Ross-on-Wye's lucky day. We knew here we were welcome to stay overnight by the river. We bought a take-away from the nearby Chinese, (we know our second this week), and tomorrow before we leave we will walk back into town and probably spend some more money!

A walk along the river before retiring helped settled our excess calories. Diet starts tomorrow.

Poole, Dorset

Around nine-thirty last night as Angela took a walk around the campsite, she could hear the thudding of hoofs as the last of the ponies charged for the cover of the trees. This was our last evening with the ponies of the new forest, and we felt a little sad. We'd miss them. 

This morning we moved Marge a little way along the road to a parking area on the edge of Brockenhurst village, saddled up and for the third time in four days cycled through the forest to Lyndhurst, where we were entertained whilst we lunched in a garden area by the car park by a group of ladies from a nearby coach. 'Have you been?'' 'Mary's been'.  A desperate man tugged at one of the locked toilet doors. On the emergence of the lady occupant 'You nearly had company in there'. You really had to be there to appreciate the humour of the situation. 

Before leaving the town, viewed a house from the outside and registered our interest for properties in the area with a local estate agent. Well why not? Early evening, we headed back to Poole, treating ourselves to a Chinese takeaway which we ate at the osprey viewpoint at Ham Common, Hamworthy. We both agreed it was the best view across Poole Harbour.  But it wasn't the new forest.

Brockenhurst, the New Forest day 4

This morning Marge, we must move you, around thirty paces. Why leave this beautiful place? Our leisure batteries were struggling, our solar panels had been in the shade of the trees too long so we moved the van into the sun to boost our amps. Another day, another cycle trip.

This time to Burley. Mostly off road along the old railway line the Castleman Trail. A round trip of twenty miles. The visitors of the weekend long gone we barely saw another soul, which suited us just fine. We know how lucky we are to be able to go away anytime and avoid the crowds.

Burley a traditional new forest village, famous for its witchcraft, always amazes us as to why it draws the crowds. Saying that, we were drawn to a property that was for sale right in its centre. A charming cottage with two commercial buildings. £900,000, seemed cheap to us.

Luckily, we don't have the funds or John would have put in an offer. Whilst we've been in the forest, we have come to realise that we would like to live here in the forest. Detached house please, small garden with grass. Best make a plan? 

Sadly, tomorrow we must return home, but not before we cycle out again. We need the practice, and time is now limited. We are already making plans for another trip away soon, hopefully to Symonds Yat on the Wye to scout out a packrafting adventure later in the summer. Meanwhile our message to you all is, don't stay at home', get out there. Nature is a wonderful drug.