Face down in the sand.

Day 24, Wednesday, Monster, 25^th May.

Face down in the sand.

Yesterday was pointless. We set off late at 3pm to travel to our next destination, we were no longer sure about Venlo and the tomatos after hearing about the asperges farm so we headed north west, towards Amsterdam, to Gouda. After a massive wrong turn detour we arrived in Gouda in the early evening. Gouda looked like a mini Amsterdam, pretty and alive. However, all of the campsites were either full or closed. As it got dark a man at a petrol station told us to follow him and he would guide us to another site. As we left him into the pitch black at some  traffic lights, the day began to get  worse. We couldn’t locate the campsite he told us of and we ended up on the skinniest path, parallel between two canals. This was the point at which I realised that my headlights were not working. Terrified I was going to drive into the water I ended up in tears as the path was never ending and there was nowhere to turn around. Finally, after what felt like hours we were out of the dark canal maze and we hit the road, a busy road. I decided to stop as it was nearly midnight, there are o campsites and I couldn’t see. We stopped in the layby overnight, crumpled up, freezing and scared. At 4.30am it started to get light. We decided to have a nice cup of tea and head for the coast. Bob’s dreadful mood and snappy behaviour inspired me to aim for Monster. I had no idea what was there, and didn’t care. Monster is where we were going. We, well, I, immediately found a campsite in Monster sandwiched between the ocean and a windmill. It being only 6.30am we had a two and a half hour wait for the site to open. Having quite a lot of time to think whilst I cleaned rubbish from the car and having my second wee in a bottle, I realised that the budget was not going very well. Crap. What can we do? I remembered about an email mother had sent me about a campsite in France where you work for a few days a week and camp for free. The campsite is in Bilowitz, damn, its on the border with Spain. I decided to call mother. Thinking she was an earlier riser that she is I woke her up at 6.30am. Kindly, and very motherly, she checked the internet for adverts similar jobs and said she would text me with the results. About a minuet later my phone beeped with a message of work on a campsite. I called the campsite which resulted in us needing to make a U-Turn back to France to the Loire Valley for free camping and electric in return for a few hours work a day. Brilliant. We can buy some time in France before our grape picking work in September, Yippeee!

We felt like crap, it was 7.30 am after no sleep and we looked like hell. I decided that I couldn’t drive today so we are staying one night in Monster then are going to get an early start to the day on the road. Who knows, maybe we will be back in France tomorrow?

After showers, ah, never needed one more, even though the timer on the shower lets you wash for a mere 5 minutes, so it was quite a rushed affair, it was good. Monster, we discover is a beach mostly, then a cycle path, then a town. The town is okay, and the beach is nice, vast and people are surfing. The campsite is cool, although full of rules and quite busy. There a wooded beach huts you can hire, many caravans and some campers, and a surf shack on site.

We cycled into Monster, past streets on green houses, all growing flowers and tomatoes. There seem to be more houses for produce than there are for people. I bought a pizza for much needed energy and a tiny pair of clogs for the caravan. We then visited the beach and played Frisbee and I fell asleep face down in the sand.

Starving after some time we headed back to the caravan and Bob made spaghetti and we played dominoes and drank wine from a carton.

I feel a bit sad that we have to return to France so swiftly, but we seem to have no choice at this point as the money just isn’t stretching as far as I had expected, or wanted it to.  The campsites are as expensive as paying rent on a flat in Manchester and our week in Someren Heide was not free. The travellers dream was woken when we realised that when Wilma said “The camping is free”, she meant that there was space to camp and we were landed with a bill for 110 euro in departure, woops.

There is an upside to returning to France other than loving it and free camping though. The wine cellar needs re-stocking, and what better place to do it than the Loire Valley?

Very goodnight, x.