5: Ireland, by Van

Oct 28, 2018

We’re leaving Ireland filled with love. For the country, for Snail, for each other, for this lifestyle. I’m also leaving with a pretty decent Irish accent which I’ve been developing in conversation with a reluctant Simone for the past three weeks.

We chose Ireland as our first destination because we thought it would be an easy start to our #vanlife. Close to home, left hand drive, English-speaking. There were a few other benefits chucked in - seeing parts of my heritage first hand, beautiful green landscapes. But mostly we just intended on finding our feet (or wheels) for our first trip on the road.






But Ireland continued to blow our minds.

Everything about it felt so raw, and somewhat undiscovered. It was so well looked after, with the only things littering the land being ancient stone circles and ruins, some of which are older than the Egyptian pyramids. The history hangs in the air.

It also felt homely. We didn’t feel like visitors. I guess it’s a side effect of living in a van in that where we park literally becomes our home, but we feel Ireland opened it’s arms to us. We had time to amble along the veins of the country from the bottom, all the way up, and it feels like we’ve got to know it well.

We’ve been so touched by how friendly the Irish are. I wish I could show a compilation video of each driver who passed us on narrow roads - because every time was accompanied with an enthusiastic wave, thumbs up and cheeky grin. In person, everyone says hello and asks about your day. And they really do love the mornin’. I saw my Grandad in the faces of the older men we passed which was a comforting reminder of my roots in these grounds too.

We arrived in Ireland in the first week of October, pissed off. I’d just unknowingly drained all my phone data for the month by leaving it on for a single hour on the ferry, and also got charged £50 for it. Great start.

But we had discovered the Wild Atlantic Way, a trail which snakes all the way along the west coast of Ireland for 2,500km, and became our general route throughout the journey.

We spent our first night on a sea front. Rolling up at night, with no real idea of where we were or what it looked like in the pitch black darkness, apart from a distant lighthouse circling. We walked to the ocean with a bucket, where I soaked my shoes scooping up a glug of ice cold sea water to cool our Prosecco. As the cork bounced off every wall in the van a few times, this symbolised the start of our journey.

The next morning we understood the incredible freedom of #vanlife for the first time. We swung open the doors to a bright, sun-bleached sky, angelically shining on a raw, sandy Irish beach as our front garden.

The next day we headed to the start of the Wild Atlantic Way trail, travelling our longest leg of the journey of 300 miles. We stayed the night at the edge of a bay, neighbouring Cork, playing fire-side guitar under thousands of stars. Here I had a serene feeling of - we’ve really done this. This is our life now.

For the first week it was hard to shake the feeling that ‘this is just a holiday’. Something impermanent. We were so used to the freedom of being somewhere - with nowhere else to be - being snatched away after a handful of days. We're still getting over the fact we don't have a 7am work alarm anymore.

We spent the early days in complete wonder of Ireland's jaw-dropping landscapes. The rugged cliffs, swelling clouds and proud forests, surrounded by meadows and falling leaves which changed colour every October day we travelled on, leaving a firey wake in our wing mirrors. The crisp sea air and scents of drifting bonfire smoke lifted us and the rolling road ahead always tempted us further.

We snatched every last slither of summer gifted to us, with a few days of t-shirt weather which had us mountain biking in forests, skating along a sea front and showering in a waterfall. After working through the sweltering summer to save for the van, and with a looming winter above our heads, we make sure not to waste any sunny opportunity.

But we also welcomed rainy days as we didn’t feel compelled to be out exploring, which meant we could lock ourselves in our creative cave. We purposefully found hideaways for us to hibernate in for days at a time. We spent three rainy days isolated at the end of a 6 mile peninsula which cut into a huge lake which surrounded us.

Luckily, even when night temperatures edged towards freezing, we’ve found the van has been staying warm enough. All it seems to take to heat this small space, is to boil the kettle. We only lit the furnace three times in almost a month, mostly when Simone couldn’t fight the urge of not having used it any longer. Snail looks so cute with her little smoking chimney.

After the novelty had worn off, we got into the swing of our new lifestyle. One key element was dealing with things going wrong, often. Within the first week we had a leaking pipe, our inside lock had broken off, and we were finding condensation everywhere whenever the temperature dropped. We locked ourselves out from the front to the back of the van meaning we had to break in through our own hatch. Two very clumsy people in one small space = spillage after spillage after spillage. We went through entire kitchen rolls daily sometimes. We learned challenges are simply part of the package and #vanlife just serves a different plate of problems as our old lifestyles did - it’s all about overcoming them and finding the sweet aftertaste.

There was the daily grind of: where do we find water, where do we find a bin. I can safely say those are the only two things I miss. I’m still wondering whether we’ll be caught on CCTV running into McDonalds car parks with a bag of rubbish and accelerating off feeling very naughty.

Proudly, we’ve managed to go the entire time without ever paying for water or a place to stay. Campsites charge on average €20 a night, which would so quickly add up. We found asking people in shops and petrol stations to fill up for us never disappointed, and finding free taps at harbours meant we could max our water tank without feeling guilty. We used an app made by campers showing free, wild places to park for the night, which always delivered. One pro of travelling at this time of year was - we had each place completely to ourselves.

Living each day as it comes meant we rarely know what day of the week it is. Instead we use daylight, the weather and where we are on a map as a tracker. Time is no longer spliced and segregated for us. No hump day drags and Friday feelings. Fancy a bit of a lie in today? No problem. Want to stay up late making music? Cool.

Highlight days for me were when we went to the rural village where my Grandad grew up, meeting my previously unknown family, followed by mountain biking along the muddy edges of the Cliffs of Moher under a perfect sunset sky.

Another was staying in our central city pad, parked a five minute walk from the creative streets of Galway, where we pub crawled, Guinness-to-Guinness with Simone’s old friend as a tour guide. We immersed in Irish music, from steaming sing-along bars to chilling intimate rooms with acapella Gaelic song.

Then there was the magical forest on the Ring of Kerry where we lay in mid-summer heat on a bed of moss while an approaching storm blasted 80mph winds unnoticed above the tall trees, bringing with it freshly made mountain clouds which felt close enough to touch. It was like leprechaun land.

On that note we did see a fair few rainbows, but no leprechauns yet.

It feels a grand achievement to have travelled the entire length of a country, and we couldn’t have asked for a better start to the journey. Snail has driven like a dream, and we’ve fallen in love with her as she’s carried us, determined, up every hill and kept us warm and dry every night. Simone keeps reminding me of the beaming smile I unknowingly have across my face as we we drive, hugging the snaking roads surrounded by eye-watering natural beauty.

Ireland, you're the craic.

Love,

Becky and Simone

Previous
Previous

6: Hi from the Highlands

Next
Next

4. Vantastic Food