14: The Home Straight

May 11th 2019

Three weeks today, we’ll be back on UK soil!

We've booked our ferry home, uploaded Snail to be sold and started sending out CVs. Our feet are slowly coming back down to ‘reality’ (although I’d argue nothing could have been more real or alive than the lifestyle we’ve just experienced).

We’re getting sinking feelings about how in a months time, Snail is going to belong to someone else. About how, in our new brick home, we’ll always have to come back to the same location due to lack of wheels. (As well as all the other little things about society we’ve avoided since living in our own world for 8 months). But we’re also beginning to crave WIFI, running water and electricity as the end draws closer…

This is the penultimate blog before writing a final summary, ‘The Snail Trail’ about everything we’ve learned since entering this world.

The past week especially, Snail has become a sauna. We’re nearing 30 degrees daily, so we’re experiencing a truly summer Snail for the first time. It’s shocking to think a few months ago we were ripping our frozen duvet from the wall in the morning, and watching stalagmites form on the inside of Snail in -11 degrees temperatures. And now we’re melting. I’ve never been more tanned in my life. It’s been a comforting reminder that actually, Snail would be an oven over summer, and we’re heading back before we cook out here.

The past few weeks have been a busy tornado. We’ve barely been keeping up with ourselves as we’ve been lapping up the long sunny days, spending most of our time away from Snail and taking in all the south coast of Portugal and Spain has to offer.

Here’s the highlights in chronological order:

We got to the official edge of Europe! Old rusty Snail, who’d never been abroad before, carried us to the edge of the continent.

We spent a few weeks in the beautiful, white sandy cave-stricken beaches of the Algarve. We’ve been on a never ending beach marathon where each one tops the last. Some of the best...

Barranco beach. One of the many van lifers we met in south west Portugal recommended ‘the ultimate hippie beach’, where there’s basically a permanent van village. To get there, we drove down the worst road of our lives. The guy who recommended the place warned us of a notorious, impossible road we should avoid at all costs… and of course we ended up down it.

Simone had to walk in front of the van moving the rocks in the road she could. At points, Snail was leaning completely over to one side - there was a time we thought we were going to keel over completely. We made it out of the deathly dirt road alive, we gave a pastel de nada to a hungry hippie coming the opposite direction (an interaction I think sums up our time in Portugal), and eventually, arrived (taking approximately 40 minutes when google maps said it would take 5).

Dozens of vans emerged - brightly painted, handmade, all utterly unique - Snail felt right at home. On the cliff facing the beach was a huge peace sign made of rocks. We were greeted by van lifers we’d met before - which instilled a community feeling. We realised we were parking next to and passing the same vans time again because they were so noticeable, and it got us thinking about how many times we must pass the same people in our daily lives without knowing. We painted, made music and body-boarded on the monster waves of the beach.

Not quite beach but water-spot worth mentioning - there have been a few spots along our journey we’ve loved so much that we’ve returned to - which is unusual considering we’re on a one-way ride. One of those places was a lake-side spot which we returned to, but the second time were greeted with three separate van lifers we’d happened to have met previously.

We spent the day lounging in hammocks and in the evening gathered around the fire, where one guy cooked a fish he’d caught in the lake, and we toasted marshmallows on the fire. Snail made a friend and made clay figurines.

A few days following that we found a gem of a beach. Although small, it had crazy character. 200 steps down led to a white sandy cove, with a stone arch and a turquoise ocean splashing through it. We squealed upon discovering there was a tunnel cut in the rock, linking the beach to its neighbour, and had a BBQ as the sunset over the crystal clear water. The next day we took our bodyboards out exploring the stunning grottos surrounding the beach…But the best beach by far, was the one with the cave we slept in...

Bucket list activity - ticked. We visited a secret beach which would only be accessible by boat had a stairway not been cut into the rock to reveal it. Not only that, but there was a bar carved into rock, as well as a fireplace, a number of rooms, and of course, a bedroom cave.

According to a local, centuries ago a captain had the beach designed so he could throw parties for his servants once in a while. Before we checked it out, the local said some people had slept in the cave a few weeks ago… and when we got there, we’d mentally made our bed.

To get there, we had to edge ourselves along a narrow cliff path with a hefty drop into the ocean below to arrive in the coolest place we’ve ever seen. The cave had a ready made fireplace and SHELVES!? We moved right in and even managed to snugly fit our hammock, where we cuddled under the stars and to the sounds of the crashing waves, and had a perfect sunrise view in the morning. We felt like we had our own corner of the world. Nothing but us and the ocean and the stars and the birds.

We had a BBQ and made bread on the fire (a trick we learned from our German vanlifer friends), and the next morning made tea and beans on toast in the fireplace. As the sun began to gain power, I took a skinny dip before tourists arrived. It’s crazy it’s taken us our whole lives to sleep under the stars, but this was the first of many because it’s seriously good for the soul.

As we were carrying our stuff back from the cave, we met two crazy van lifers who happened to own an outdoor adventure company and invited us paddle boarding. We boarded out to an incredible cave (three of us on one board) and spent the day together. At night we parked parallel to each other and threaded a rope between our vans to hang a light. And made a HUGE fire in a oil barrel and BBQ'ed.

THEN LUKE VISITED AGAIN!

After two lush months, we finally left Portugal (but not before rope swinging into a waterfall pool).

We headed straight for Seville where we took in the romance of the city, and also found ourselves on an Extinction Rebellion protest through the streets. We didn’t understand a word they were chanting but it felt POWERFUL.

Then, the best news is we reached the unofficial ‘goal’ of our journey and stepped foot on African soil. Sadly we didn’t take Snail with us due to lack of insurance, so instead brought mini clay snail. But three cheers for rusty old Snail who everyone doubted, driving us to the foot of AFRICA.

We ended up going on a day tour guide because it was cheaper than just buying a return ticket. It was a speedy way to see all the sights, but also with the freedom we’re used to, it felt stuffy. So we snuck off, led by a younger tour assistant who had a liking for us, to a drum shop. We found ourselves on the roof of an authentic Moroccan building drinking fresh mint tea, watching the group we were with unknowingly as they were approached by street sellers below.

After building a rapport, we ended up getting into a hardcore haggling situation. As the seller theatrically rolled out dozens of rugs and asked us to whittle them down to the one we wanted, we thought - this price thing is going to go either way. When he wrote down 275 euros, we made it very clear, very quickly that we live in a van and we’re going to insult him with our price. ’No you can’t insult me’. So I put down 30, then 35, 36. Then I drew a sad face as he really wasn’t getting it. ‘I see what I can do’… he said walking off to talk to the boss saying ‘these people have no money!!’

We ended up buying a beautiful handmade rug, crafted in the Moroccan mountains, as well as a perfect African drum for £60. ‘We sell to Americans for 1000’ they said, as we found ourselves smiling for a photo with the brothers of the shop, and on the phone to one of their cousins in London… because somehow we were a link. We left the shop thinking, what the heck just happened, we should use the van excuse more often, and we need to find our group so we don’t miss the last ferry of the day and get stuck, Snail-less, on the streets of Tangier!! The younger tour guide, who lived in the city his whole life and has never left, whisked us around the backstreets, saying hi to every second person, as he walked in little yellow Moroccan slip-on shoes. We picked up some spices en-route, ran across the road to the ferry port, and slyly joined the passport queue like nothing had happened, and headed back to Europe.

Another strange experience was visiting Gibraltar, AKA little Britain. Flashing the cover of our passports at the border led us to a 48 hour fix of British culture. After 8 months being away from home, it was just w e i r d. Paying in pounds, eating chip shop chips, a high-street with a M&S… I actually felt a bit emotional walking around Morrisons and suddenly remembering the little things we forgot we missed. We practically fell to our knees when we found the Quorn section and came out with an array of hash browns, baked beans, pot noodles, digestive biscuits and other trashy foods, exclusively British, that we’ve missed the most.

The highlight time of Gibraltar was our monkey experience. We’d been warned they were feisty. And we still got caught out. After hiking to the top of the rock, we decided to stop for lunch before we reached ape territory. We got out our food, and had barely taken the first bite of a sandwich before Simone said ‘there’s a monkey behind you..’. And the brawl began.

The monkey attempted to grab all the food we’d spread out. My reflex reaction was to hold it at arms length, circling it around and above the monkey where it couldn’t reach. It was reaching anyway - this guy was a pro. Monkey pushed me. I pushed back… then in a flash I asked myself ’what the hell am I doing fighting with a monkey’. And let him have it. He proceeded to eat our lunch sat a meter away from us as he started us dead in the eyes. ‘Can I please have a biscuit, I was looking forward to that’ said Simone firmly. Monkey’s reaction was to dart forward, widening his eyes and rounding his mouth. Simone backed off immediately with a yelp. So there we were, hungrily watching the monkey open a bag of crisps and munch them one by one with it’s little thumbs and no remorse.

Following Gibraltar we visited our friend Bahar at her family’s villa for some ultimate pool-side luxury, beds and showers for 2 days where we made music and caught up.

Then we headed for Malaga where our friends Bel and Andrew got MARRIED. And with that, we’ve reached all the goals we set out for this trip.

With 18 days and counting before we’re on the ferry home, we’re spending our time doing the best this lifestyle has to offer, absorbing nature on long hikes, meeting other van-lifers, using our free space to create. Our 6 year anniversary on 25th May (and a year since we’ve got engaged) signals the end of our ultimate road trip, before we return, and move to Brighton for our next chapter (and to record the album we’ve written on the road….)

Love,

Becky and Simone