Walking through the beautiful beaches and campsites of Devon in a vintage 1967 VW van, we felt like a celebrity to rent a motorhome
“Ooh, ” said the voice of a passing car while parking near a sandy cove. “She’s a beauty!” It refers to Noddy Windsor, our 1967 lime green VW camper van, which caused a sensation all over North Devon. After a day at the beach, we would return to locate crowds pulsing and making noise. Strangers from the gas stations came over to chat. And at Ilfracombe Harbour, after swimming in the rain, a boy took selfies as we sat inside to warm up and have an infusion.
In the new world concerned with remoteness and evasion, it is exciting to awaken so much warmth and cordiality. Thanks to Noddy, we made more of a fuss than the royal family.
Our plans to spend the summer had been lost through Covid-19. If we couldn’t passArray, we’d make a decision that we sought to do anything else in the UK. This led us to O’Connors Campers, a rental company founded in Okehampton with a fleet of classic and modern vans, most of which have intriguing names. Jackie Brown, a pale white lilac style from 1979, looked like a Swiss chocolate bar on wheels; I Am Spartacus, a six-bed yellow, echoed his cinematic namesake with promises of “freedom, escape and sandals.” But it was Noddy who convinced us. After all, as the online page revealed, he played with a variety of greeting cards, adorned the Camper mag awning and even gave the impression on The Camper Van Cookbook (page 270).
Noddy’s striking lime-green finish is a Porsche color, but that’s where the similarity stops. It was a traveling taste of 1967, a time before touch screens, air conditioning, forced steering, central locking and speed controllers were slightly needed. Along the way, Noddy exercised. Changing gears was like betting on tennis, directing like throwing in a fishing net. “This yetton is for windshield wipers, ” said Melissa de O’Connors with a smile. “They don’t do much. If the rain is literally strong, it is better to simply stop. And don’t even look up the coast at fourth speed. Noticing my expression, he added, “Don’t worry. You’re going to pick it up. »
She was right. And when I did, driving something so old-school began to look like an original way of reveling in the many pleasures of North Devon. Gone was the sealing feeling that fashionable cars seek to create. Instead, while Noddy was walking the winding roads, we all felt much closer to this dazzling landscape, cabins surrounded by agapantos, stunning wooded gorges, rolling meadows that descend to the sea. Who cares if the beginning of a hill makes you sweat, or if all you see in your mirrors is a tailgate for 20 cars? It is worth paying when you can stay on the beach with taste and comfort until sunset and beyond, as we did night after night in the vast and desirable Putsborough, tired bodies of surfing, sand forming scabs on our baked faces, the full abdominal of a motorhome kitchen.
It wasn’t all beaches and driving. The sea coast is so ravine and rocky that we plan to take a look at the coasteering with Nick Thorn Surf School (35 euros consistent with the son). We arrived at the Hele Bay car park at 6pm on a windy night to catch the emerging tide at their best, and followed two exciting hours with a helmet, wetsuit, life jacket and running shoes. We swam, climbed and jumped huge rocky outcrops into a breaking sea, going far enough around the coast to see Verity, the giant statue of Damien Hirst of a pregnant woman wielding a sword, where it protects the port of Ilfracombe (which later became our favorite. Stop for a wonderful crab or lobster roll from the dock shop).
We had difficulty booking campsites online. Most larger cities had reduced their capacity as a precautionary measure, and there had been a rush of e-books in early summer, meaning that the maximum availability of sites close to beaches was limited. So we had to move more than we would have liked, even with Noddy on wheels. But as it increased, he probably noticed more of Devon this way, adding the amazing Broadsands Beach near Watermouth Bay.
A 10-minute walk from Mill Park, a beautifully equipped campsite with its own lake, Broadsands is accessed via a series of near-steep steps that plunge into a strip of sand surrounded by towering cliffs, deep, massive dark caves, heavily eroded. rocks walking out to sea. It was like a James Bond place, a beautiful trap for the absolutely hidden sand sun of the road: the word was clearly said: the young men went up and down in kayak, while a guy was propelling himself and a very excited labrador through the transparent waters on a huge paddle board. How they were delivered down there was a mystery. Maybe they just threw them off the cliffs. But still, the creek was colorful and isolated rather than spoiled and covered in weeds, and the prospects in all the instructions were extraordinary.
Now we had Noddy’s talent. With just a swear word, I can also climb the roof and spinning beds for kids in five minutes. And I dodged it when I clicked to open the trunk, where was the articulated wooden square that kept the back bed tidy. Some may have described the effects as narrow, but we thought they were comfortable, especially with the old-fashioned yellow curtains and purple cumshots. And the little kids enjoyed it. All sleeping soundly, perhaps because our days were so full.
The spotlight was a two-night prevent at Croyde’s surf spot. We stayed at Ocean Pitch, a camp so close to the sea that if he hadn’t thoroughly pulled the handbrake lever, Noddy could have rolled through the waves. After a few hours in the understandable famen surfing the next afternoon, I took a stroll through Baggy Point, the headland north of Croyde off Lundy Island, twinkling in the scorching sun 12 miles from the sea. It was an exciting hike, which began on grassy hills dotted with daisies and culminated in stunning rocky walls whipped by the waves, with Putsborough and Woolacombe visual to the north.
On the way back, I can tell Noddy to go down the last hill. Covered with banners, with attacks hanging from his luggage rack, he in his element: as extremely happy to be there as we are, in front of the setting sun as the seagulls rushed madly over his head and the waves glowed in the sand.
“I took another one,” said a guy who went further when I nevertheless came back to open a Proper Job, the most productive beer in the West Country. He pointed to Noddy, who seemed to shine with pride as the last rays of the day captured his body. “I wish I’d never sold it, ” he sighed. “What a beautiful view.”
Noddy Windsor is trading £495 for a week off-season, emerging at £925 summer vacation, major points in oconnorscampers.co.uk. Short remains and other vans are also available