Err...

By now I should be writing to you from Eastern France. But I'm not. Here's why:

Waiting for a delivery

As mentioned in my last post, the fuel gauge I'd been chasing for 5 weeks was finally due to arrive yesterday. We had agreed by telephone to pay the cost of an 'Express' courier service that would guarantee its arrival before midday, therefore delaying my departure by no more than a few hours.

However by 1pm there was still no sign of it so I logged on to view the tracking information and see what was going on. Well, everything there looked normal except that it was apparently sent by 'Express Saver' which was only guaranteed to arrive by the end of the day.

I marvelled somewhat at the journey this thing had been taking to get here. Originally sourced in Germany, it had been obtained by a France-based company called VW Heritage who had sent it to their French-speaking agent in the UK office because it was for a 'UK customer' in France. She had then given it to a courier who had flown it from London Stansted Airport to a sorting office back in Germany, in fact very close to the Belgian border where I will be staying this weekend. From there it had, overnight, flown to Montpellier in the South of France and loaded onto a van for delivery. (I would be passing through Montpellier on my journey to Belgium.) So none of this tracking information made me any happier about the delay we were experiencing.

The spare part had done more miles than the campervan

Finally at 2pm I gave up... I had about 8 hours of driving ahead of me and couldn't wait any longer. So, after agreeing with the supplier that they would refund my postage costs, I packed up the van, filled the petrol tank and said a tearful goodbye to my parents and friends.

I knew the bus was low on oil so I stopped at the first big garage shop on my route, about 25 minutes away from the departure point. Unfortunately the shop only stocked one grade of oil which wasn't right for me so I sloped back to the campervan to find my phone ringing. "It's me", said my Mum, "your package has just arrived". Dad kindly offered to drive out and meet me with it, since his car is much faster and it would help to reduce the extension of my journey.

Noticing a problem

As Dad got out of the car, he pointed at the back of my bus and asked, "Did you spill that when you were filling it up?". I followed his finger, confused, and realised there was a fresh pool of oil under my engine bay. Since I hadn't yet bought any oil, this was certainly not down to any spillages. In fact on looking further back there was a clear drip, drip, drip every yard tracing my route into the carpark. Oh.

There were no two ways about it - I could not drive to Belgium like this.

We bought a can of oil (any grade will do at this point) and sloshed it in, forming a convoy back home. My Dad called a bilingual friend of his who happens to be rather an expert in VW mechanics and the friend suggested that the oil seals could be leaking as a result of my engine performing at a higher pressure than it would have done when they had been fitted. He recommended a mechanic nearby and offered to come with us the next day to help explain everything in French.

Noticing another problem

Dad had given me the package that had delayed me so long so I started opening it, saying "let's just check this is actually a fuel gauge", to which we both chuckled. I opened the box, the paper filling, the inner box and the bag... and found this:

Not a fuel gauge

This is a rear suspension brush. It's for my campervan, I'll grant you that, but it's certainly not a fuel gauge.

I actually roared with laughter and tried to call my agent at VW Heritage, eager to share this news and feed on her resultant dismay, but was told that she was on her way to France. Perhaps by a similar 'Express Saver' service..? So now I wait to hear back from her colleague.

Plan B

In the meantime, I still have a festival to attend and friends to meet - nothing will keep me from that. Rather than driving, I will be flying Ryanair to Belgium on Friday for some traditional tent-in-mud camping, then making my way to Amsterdam with hiking boots and rucksack. The campsite I had booked there also has cabins - they're slightly more expensive but, since I've prepaid and can't get a full refund at this late date, I may as well enjoy the luxury.

On returning to the South, my repaired bus and I can go wherever we like. We can drive South into Spain, East into Provence and Italy, or across into Switzerland and Austria. Europe will be ours. (In a fun, light-hearted, touristy way. Not in a Hitler way.)

Will they arrive in time?

Today I leave the South of France to start my journey North.

In the last couple of weeks since getting here I have been on eBay and other websites ordering last-minute essentials, taking advantage of the fact that I had a fixed address to have them delivered to. These were namely:

- The new fuel gauge (of course)
- Second-hand hiking boots
- Foldable wellington boots
- Haynes manual for the campervan
- Travel SIM card
- Basic mobile phone to put the SIM card in

I did well at finding good prices and using gift vouchers to pay for the above - the only question was, would it all arrive in time for my departure?

Boots for £8.07 from eBay Germany

Well, as it happens, as of yesterday afternoon almost everything was here. We had four different couriers knocking at the window to give us parcels and packages... the only thing we still desperately needed was the bloomin' fuel gauge, now 5 weeks after ordering it from an agent.

The agent called. She told me that she now had the part in her hand. I asked where she was: "the UK" she replied. It seems that I had contacted a French company who had deferred me to their UK office, simply because that's where my bank account is registered... they had then proceeded to obtain the part from Germany and have it shipped at a snail's pace to England so that they could charge me a fortune in postage fees to get it back to France. And we were almost out of time.

It was supposed to take "11 days" to order online

However, she said that she had an express overnight service available. For an extra £7 on top of the already extortionate postal charge, I could have it delivered this morning guaranteed before midday. I agreed. And now we wait. There will be no opportunity to fit it, of course, but at least I can take it with me and perhaps meet a knowledgeable person who can help me wire it in.

Friends on a journey of their own

Back in London, when I was squatting in an old college there, I met two beautiful people who were staying in another room on my floor. Jenny was working in an office but was full of tales about travelling the world and working as crew on tall ships. Indeed I would count her as great inspiration for my own journey - she's such a lively and enthusiastic character that no-one could fail to be attracted to her description of the backpacker lifestyle. And Gauthier was working as a postman after his dream position in Ireland had collapsed. You see, he wanted to be a violin maker. He had travelled to Ireland to meet a man and become his apprentice but the man had sadly died before the training could begin.

Well, my parents came for a visit last Autumn and met these guys whilst cooking in the shared kitchen. My parents told them about an old violin maker who lives just down the road in their French village. Gauthier's eyes lit up on hearing this and soon it was arranged: he and Jenny would come to the South of France.

Unusually for an emigration, these two crazed adventurers decided to come by bicycle from London Luton, through Portsmouth and down the entire French countryside to the Mediterranean. They were very much out of contact during this time but we would occasionally hear a quick update online about how far they had travelled and what they had seen. And what a way to see things!

On Sunday we saw an update that they were in Toulouse, a city some 150 km from here. I sent a quick message to say 'hello' and to tell them I'd be leaving on Wednesday. I was thoroughly convinced that they would arrive after I left. But yesterday evening at about 8pm, just before the last of the sunlight could dip behind the mountains, two smiling faces appeared at the front window. They were here! We drank wine and ate pasta and shared stories all night long.
http://instagr.am/p/KP5nCDEt2v/
I really think that my adventure pales in comparison to theirs. They have already achieved so much! With their bicycles piled high and their spirits even higher, they look forward to starting a brand new lifestyle.

Off I go

As soon as the fuel gauge arrives, I'm off. I'll travel East and then North today and settle in a free service station for the night, then make the long push to Belgium tomorrow where I'll be meeting a Welsh friend who's flying in for the weekend. I have a new audio book to listen to and the campervan is tidied and (almost) packed.

I'm excited to be back on the road, of course, but I'll be sad to leave the home comforts my parents have provided. Is there anything more refreshing than staying with family? Where you know exactly how things are done and how to communicate, where you're 'at home' but with none of the responsibilities.

I do have a little something to take with me... I bought a small set of glass paints from a local craft shop:

Yoghurt pots with a little extra detail

Reunited at last

On Monday I emailed my contact to find out where my new fuel gauge has gotten to and she promptly replied that "it is still with the main supplier and we're hoping for delivery next week". Given that I'd been waiting three weeks already, I wasn't keen to sit back and see how much longer my journey would be delayed.

So I made a quick call to the RAC and asked to collect my campervan as it was. They agreed and put me on a train the very next day.

I arrived at the garage and reluctantly handed over a hard-earned £800 in exchange for the keys. I was promised that the bus was now in full working order besides the fuel gauge so drove it away. Their declaration appeared to be honest, although I couldn't help but get grumpy over the little details that hadn't been attended to - it was dirty, there were wires hanging out of the bottom of the dashboard and the stereo trim had been separated from the stereo and left in the footwell. I tried to set this grumpiness aside as I settled in for the night in a free camping spot by a river in a small village off the A20.

On Wednesday I resumed my journey, filling up the petrol regularly of course, and made my way back down South. The Sat Nav was in a sightseeing mood so we tore up and down narrow mountain roads with hairpin bends, even reaching enough altitude to see snow, before arriving back at base in Herault.

This gives me only a few more days to indulge in luxury before we're off again...

Where next?

Well next weekend I have tickets to a rock festival in Belgium and the weekend after that I'm due to meet my old colleagues and friends from London in Amsterdam. Updates to follow!