AWOL247

“Ooh look, we’ve got 2 emails from Camping Isny. A grovelling apology for gazumping us, no doubt.” It wasn’t. It was 2 consecutive emails asking us where we were, and our ETA.

We checked the booking. It went a significant way in explaining why we’d had no place to stay when we arrived. We’d turned up at the site (and as such, started the whole trip) a day before we should have done. A* for zeal, F for maths. No wonder the preparations had been a little rushed.

Wow, these guys really take things seriously.  Our first pitch at the Gitzy and we were surrounded by campers who had literally brought the kitchen sink.

We saw toasters, filter coffee makers, recliners,  even an entire kitchen cabinet (which folded down to the size of a matchbox). Their awnings were bigger than our flat.

There we were in the sweltering heat, trying to get our Sonnensegel (Norma, 12.99 €) to stand up – a 2 hour job despite zero wind. We tried to avoid acknowledging the looks of utter incredulity from our neighbours. We made it eventually,  and kicked back glowing with pride.

The plan for the afternoon was to check out Lake Constance at Lindau, a 10 minute drive away. The Bulli was now forming an important part of the supporting structure for the Sonnensegel though, so we needed an alternative mode of transport. No trouble. WE were Gitzianers. And Gitzianers get free passage on the bus from the Gitzy to Lindau. And Lake Constance? What a sight.

So the Isny wasn’t to be. It looked like a very nice place. The adjoining bathing lake was pretty, but we’d bought a SUP board so big you could have used it as a bridge.

Here we were at the Gitzenweiler Hof, a sprawling mass of mansions on wheels and a short drive from Lake Constance (Bodensee) – a match even for our excessive water transportation device.

We checked in and were guided to our pitch by a man in a golf cart. No room for the tent just yet, but we were told if we checked back in a couple of days they should have something. It was getting dark now anyway – just time to plug in… Hmmm. Same deal as the Albtal. A 3 pin socket for a 2 pin plug. This one was a bit of a bitch too. Ah well, when in doubt, push harder. We got connected all right.

Wandered up for some food and a beer. The kitchen was closed but they could still offer us fleischsalat. What returned was a mountain of ham and cheese so vast it curdled the snow on the summits of the neighbouring Alps. Generosity of spirit? The Gitzy had it in spades.

The foot hits the floor. Wheels spin in a blaze of gravel from the tennis club car park and hapless Russians on the grillplatz dive for cover in a shower of Stary Melnik.

It was a long drive from the Albtal to Bavaria. Congestion, roadworks, wrong turns. We knew we were getting close when the smell of manure seeped through the air vents. Farming country. Our base for the next week had meant to be Waldbad Camping Isny. Not any more it wasn’t.

When we arrived, it appeared that the pitch we’d booked had been given to someone else. The office was closed, the place was fully booked, there was no out of hours number. A guy in the restaurant said we could park by the tennis courts up the road and try again in the morning. We drove up to take a look.

Indignation turned to rage. Why the hell should we go back, cap in hand, tomorrow to a place that let us down today? A campingplatz half an hour further down south had space. Sod it, we’ll take our goddam business elsewhere… HIT IT.

30 minutes later.  Hallo-o-o-o Gitzy!

Our final destination was Bavaria. But that’s a fair old schlepp from Remagen, so we needed a place for the night, somewhere near Stuttgart. The Hardtsee looked promising – not exactly what you’d call ‘wild camping’, but given that it was on a bathing lake and a stone’s throw from the route it worked fine.

The only problem was, it was high summer, international travel was still restricted owing to the persistence of coronavirus in many countries, so every German and his dog had bought a campervan. Good luck finding a pitch anywhere even remotely popular in the whole country. No, there was nothing available at the Hardtsee.

Campingplatz Albtal in Kochmühle was a little further off the road, but they had a pitch for us. All the Google pics had been taken in winter and it looked like the little campsite that cried. Sure enough though, when we arrived, they were expecting us, and we were told we could park up anywhere we fancied in one of two fields.

There were plenty of electricity points. Perfect. Our first time plugging in the Bulli so we could run the fridge overnight and charge the phones. We ran the cable to the charge point. Weird. We had a cable connected to the Bulli battery with a 2-pin plug on the end. The charge point had a 3-pin socket. Oh well, it kinda went in, with a little force. Guess the socket accepts 2  & 3 pin plugs. Not a clue.

Turned out the Albtal is a truly great little place. It’s ramshackle in that it’s not regimental in its pitching regime. Easy going, informal, and expertly run. And the restaurant is cranking out great food by the plateful, way beyond expectation. We ate and retired. Talked to a couple of schnauzer breeders who ‘d brought 3 of them along for the ride. The power seemed fine. The fridge was ticking over. Sweet dreams.

Our first night in the Bulli and we slept the sleep of the just. We’d had a romantic idea that we’d be awoken by shafts of new dawn sunlight. In reality it was dog walkers already up and about. There must have been 4 or 5 cars in the car park already.

In the blistering sunshine of morning we got a brew on with our new stove & kettle. Did we remember to bring cups? Of course not. We adapted. So what now? It was Friday and we had a few days off work, so maybe we could pick up a few supplies and head out to spend the night somewhere a little further from home.

So out we went to the Pulvermaar, the deepest crater lake in the Eifel at 72m deep, and a stunning site. The Bulli was too long for the parking lots by the lake, so we ended up in an overflow field. We had currywurst and coffee at the Pulvermaar cafe until things got stormy.

We decided we’d stay the night in the overflow field. Only problem was, it’s a nature reserve. One beer down and feeling very good about the world, we got unceremoniously booted out by a roving ranger at about 9pm. So we headed back. Day turned to night. We weren’t giving up that easily though, so back to the Monte Klamotte it was, for another night in the Bulli in the exact same spot we’d spent the night before. Other than a complete nutter driving full pelt into a pile of aggregate in the car park at midnight, then revving with his reverse lights on as if he was going to back into us at speed, it was a peaceful night.

It was a hot June evening. We still hadn’t spent a night in the Bulli. We had some sausages. What would anyone in Remagen do under those circumsatnces? Technically, barbecues on the Monte Klamotte (specifically at the Otto Neubeck Grillhütte) should be booked in advance. But these were coronatimes – bookings weren’t possible, barbecues weren’t allowed. We were 2 people with a tiny picnic grill and a few sausages, so we thought we’d take our chance.

There were still a number of sunset dog walkers around when we got up there, so we decided to hold off on the pyrotechnics until after dark – just in case any were interfering busybodies. We ended up on a bench, with a beer, marvelling at the sun sinking over fields of rapeseed, putting the world to rights with a couple walking 2 dogs.

We set up the grill, despite there being a few stragglers (3 young card players in the dusk). We must’ve had to go back to the van 3 or 4 times to fetch things we’d forgotten of course – rookie errors. Darkness, fireflies, silence, sausages. We even managed to start a small campfire. This sounds like proper bush survival stuff, but dry grass, twigs and larger branches had already been stacked by someone before us, and we had paper and lighters at our disposal. It still took us about 20 attempts to get the thing going. The smoke billowed upwards as a fine indication to passing patrol cars of our whereabouts.

No one came, the fire died back and we went to bed, the Bulli bed.

Laacher See, a 2km wide, 53m deep volcanic crater lake in the Eifel. It’s a spectacular thing. Visting it on Pfingstmontag? Not what you would call ‘escaping from it all’ but we were going a little bit crazy in Remagen and wanted to get out on proper roads. At least, one of us did. One of us was too chicken to drive – it’s close to the Nürburgring, and Germans like to drive as if they’re on it. Plus, left hand drive on the right side of the road? Not yet.

Despite the crowds, it was great to be out in the country for the first time in a long time. Spoke to some fellow Bulli drivers in the car park – our first taste of the community the iconic vehicle has generated around itself. They’d converted an old farm in Polch into a kitchen, hotel and café-restaurant, just before coronavirus hit. All they could do was wait.

And yes, we did get lost – missed the turn for Brohl-Lützing on the way home and ended up on the L116 towards Nickenich. Beautiful road. Wrong direction. Discovered a great little campingplatz at the bottom of the hill there. We doubled back to the L113, at sunset – what a view.

Number plates arrived. Remagen may not be the most happening of places but there are certain ways in which it makes up for it. One of these is the ability to register a number plate that begins with the letters AW (short for Ahrweiler, the main town in the region).

Okay, so we bought it a couple of weeks back. Since then we’ve been wrestling with WordPress to set up this blog about it – trying to strip out everything we don’t need in terms of side menus, widgets, social media, links, whistles and flipping bells. Just a timestamp, some text and some images if you please – nothing else.

The world is currently awash with the COVID-19, meaning we can’t really use it for camping – a bit of a drawback. Thankfully, this is all set to change in the next few weeks unless something disastrous happens. In the meantime, we’re busy ordering all manner of crap on the internet to make the interior a little more ‘characterful’.