Vivivanne - The First Outing
Our destination was shrouded in fog and Maribou State was filling the cab - I was grateful for the slow tractor in front of me as I gently guided Vivvy up the hill to Firle Beacon.
It’s lockdown #3 in January 2021 and some work had taken me Glynde, just over the road from Firle. Firle Beacon is well known for the van community there - it’s a wonderful place to throw open the doors and hang out with an epic view. I was glad to have the opportunity to take Viv on her first slice of van life since I (almost) finished converting her.
As the windscreen wipers swept across what I know is going to become a cinematic screen as I travel, I felt a sense of freedom and joy. As the view started to emerge with every metre climbed even Monty sat up to take it in but then halfway up the air got dense and the view disappeared again. Arriving in the car park I backed into a space (though it was pretty deserted) and Monty sat and eyed me as I laced up my walking boots - since the mattress has gone in he’s not so keen to jump out the van when the door slides open.
We started out on a familiar walk to Firle Beacon, but this felt different. Knowing that I was going to hang around for a bit of working and a cuppa afterwards made the walk feel less rushed somehow. The wind howled over the landscape and as I played with the settings on my camera, Monty took it on himself to make his stance clear on how much he was enjoying the walk by sitting down and giving me one of his best unimpressed expressions.
Cracking on regardless we made it as far as the beacon. The hair that hung out of my beanie dripped from the moisture in the air and I acknowledged a few moments of claustrophobia as the dense fog restricted the view to a few hundred yards. Every now and then a dog would come into view and somewhere in the distance there would be a call of a name and the dog would disappear again.
I looked over at Monty who clearly wanted to cut this walk short - ‘ok, pal, you win, let’s head back’. And no sooner as I had turned on my heel did the fog start to roll further inland and a view started to emerge. This was entirely unexpected and welcome and as we got back to the car park the golden hour light was shining behind Vivs.
Towelling Monty down, he was keen to reinstate his position on the mattress and didn't seem in the slightest bit surprised that I was joining him this time. Plugging in my heated blanket he just seemed to get it as the back doors were opened to the view and the kettle went on.
It was with a humble sense of pride I pulled open the sliding bed and slotted the mattress extension into place. I settled in for an hour or so of work - because I had accidentally left my backup running while tethering a connection over Christmas my data ran out about 25 days ago - this way of working without any internet connection has been a revelation. Within the time of drinking my cuppa I had furiously written down a load of notes on how to structure my next workshop session and had moved onto my own goals for the rest of the week.
Placing the notebook at the side of me with a snoring Monty at the other side of me I suddenly felt a wave of emotion. This life has been my biggest wish for years now and here I was living it - sure it wasn’t touring the Cornish Coast or exploring the Highlands but this little slice of it is just as enjoyable and there will be time for that. Being in the moment has never been one of my greatest strengths but right there in the van I was flooded with appreciation and pride for committing and making it happen.
Taking some deep breaths and just enjoying the feeling of air that had just rolled in from sea in my lungs I felt a sense of a beginning, the mark of something special.
Descending back down the hill en route back to the flat I felt a pull back up the hill. Had I not a hungry Labrador in the back with a lack of food in the van I perhaps could have stayed there for hours longer. But it won’t be the last trip and that night my dreams bought a lot of forecasting.
Welcome to my life Vivvivanne.