Monday 19 March

We’ve consulted the map and with a poorly gearbox decide to head home slowly. Very slowly, not yet decided on which channel crossing to aim for.  The route will depend on the car’s performance.  With Steve at the wheel nursing the gearbox we make our way towards Clermont Feraud drawing in deep breaths as the Discovery struggles to ascend the Pyrenees, hoping we’ll make it to the other side.

We arrive at our campsite – http://www.lesbruyeres-camping.fr/ – early evening.  It’s in a heavily wooded area and as we pull in our hearts sink, as it’s a steep uphill drive to the reception and our pitch.  The car just about made it which I read from Steve’s face. Shortly after I’ve taken Stella for a walk, whilst Steve sets up the caravan, the heavens open and boy does it rain and its very, very cold.  Steve tried to erect our small awning but the winds and storm were too much to battle with.  He gave up completely soaked right through.

Let me tell you about camping gas.  There’s Butane and then there’s Propane.  The difference is that Butane can explode if the temperature is below 5°.  We knew the weather would be cold on the way out, and certainly at night and thought we had taken enough Propane with us, without ever imaging the weather would still be around the zero mark on the way back.

With our wobble box exposed, that night as the storm raged and the Mistral gathered enthusiasm, we were half way through cooking our evening meal when the gas cooker and heater gave out.  Both of us being optimists, thought ‘no problem,’ we’ll switch over to electric.  Part of our learning curve is that many of the campsites only allow 6kw of power which basically means you can run anything you like, just not necessarily at the same time.  So its, cooking or heating, or kettle for mug of tea, or microwave, or hot water.  Quite a juggling act, usually with giggles over differing opinions of priorities, but nothing we can’t handle.

As we juggled appliances for warmth and sustenance, the electrics went.  We didn’t think we’d overloaded anything and we hadn’t.  The storm took out the entire campsites electrics – but thankfully not for long.

Stuffing our summer duvet into the cover to supplement the winter one, we snuggle into bed listening to the storm.  That’s when the weather decided to throw curved balls at us.  The wind shook and lifted the caravan a corner at a time.  It was a white knuckle ride without handles to hold on to.  A vision from The Wizard of Oz of Dorothy’s house being whisked into the cyclone flashed across my mind and I wondered if I should pack a bag and head out of the caravan for shelter.  However, being too comfortable and warm snuggled up to Steve, I couldn’t be asked to move so we stuck it out.  I reckoned if we floated off it would just be another first together.