I mostly live the Vanlife in my trusty campervan, Noah. Noah is a short-wheelbase Ford Transit Custom with a pop-top roof and very little storage space. I love him dearly and have just spent a wonderfully cosy winter travelling around different campsites in the UK.

I bought Noah in the middle of last year after recovering from a serious climbing accident, which left me unable to walk for over a year. By the time I could walk again, I had massively itchy feet and wanted to spend as much time outdoors as possible.

Before my accident, I lived between my off-grid cottage, which I rent from a lovely farming family in Ripon, and various accommodations mostly found on Spareroom.com.
The rented rooms mostly came about because while the cottage is fantastic in the summer – peaceful, surrounded by nature, off the beaten track – life is not so comfortable in the winter.

Made of stone, she holds no heat, and the two fires struggle to heat even a small area of the living space in the depths of winter.
She’s also at the bottom of a sloping field, which becomes very boggy in the wet months, making it impossible for even a 4×4 vehicle to get up and down, never mind a little campervan. (Or the estate car, which I had before Noah).

Being unable to drive in and out means ferrying shopping and other supplies from the top of the field by wheelbarrow. (Whoever invented the wheelbarrow was an absolute genius).
There’s no running water either, so drinking water must be carried in, along with food and other essentials.
Between the biting cold and the difficulties getting in and out, the cottage becomes a difficult living option in the winter.

However, rather than this being a downside of cottage living, I see it as a benefit. I used my winters as an opportunity to try living in different areas of the UK. As a result, I’m well-travelled and have met some wonderful people along the way.

At the time of my accident, I lived in a gorgeous old house in Spennymoor, just on the outskirts of Durham. I loved my room, with its enormous old fireplace big enough to step into, my Bedknobs and Broomsticks style brass bed, and the amazing picture window which opened up like a door into the walled back garden, enabling me to climb directly out, or on sunny days have it wide open and feel like I was out in the garden while still being in my room.

Alas, after the accident, I had to move, as I was wheelchair bound and there were too many tight spaces and steps for me to manage.
I was also unable to return to the cottage, as her access is definitely not wheelchair friendly.

However, after leaving the hospital, I was lucky enough to find a lady in Darlington who was looking for someone to live in her house and take care of it while she lived with her mother, who was sick and recovering from an illness.
Technically a lodger, I paid a very reasonable fee for a room in the house, but had the whole place to myself for the entire year and a half I lived there.

It was the perfect space for my recovery. Set back into a small newbuild estate, it had good bus links into town but was quiet enough that I could take myself out on daily wheelchair ‘rolls’ without being in too much danger of getting squashed by traffic.
Being in a wheelchair for six months gave me a whole new appreciation for people who spend their lives in one. Britain seems like quite a wheelchair-friendly, accessible place until you experience wheelchair living firsthand.

By the time my leg bones had (finally) decided to stick back together, I was desperate to get back out and start driving again. Those first few weeks back in my car were nerve-wracking, but I pushed through and didn’t let the anxiety take over.
After a few weeks back behind the wheel, I started to get the vanlife itch again.

I’d already lived the vanlife for two years, between 2016 to 2018, the same year I started renting the cottage.
It ended abruptly when I returned from work one day to find my van, Gomez, nowhere to be seen, and I never saw him again.
The police were less than useless, logging the case and then closing it immediately unless ‘something came up’.
They refused to even check the nearby security cameras, which could have easily given them ‘something’ to go on.

I was sad about losing my van, which I’d lovingly converted into a comfortable living space.
Still, I accepted the loss and decided that perhaps the universe was nudging me towards a different path.

I’d been considering selling Gomez and swapping him out for a 4×4, which would be more suitable for cottage life, and so after the theft, I bought an old Nissan X-trail.
Unfortunately, that vehicle was an absolute nightmare of intermittent, untraceable faults, which caused it to limp along at 30 miles per hour regularly, sometimes even on the motorway, and always when it was most inconvenient. In the end, I replaced it with a trusty Ford Focus Estate, whom I named Egg because he was a good egg, and I was so relieved after having such a rotten egg before him.

I never imagined I’d go back to vanlife after suffering that loss, but after being cooped up for so long, the thought of living in a van, with the outside world on my doorstep, was starting to appeal again.
And so along came Noah, and I’m so glad I decided to try again because so far, I’ve had a fantastic time.

Now, summer has arrived again, and after two years away, I’ve finally returned to the cottage.
I did manage a couple of trips down with my dad during my recovery, once in the wheelchair and then later with my crutch. But otherwise, I’ve barely seen her.

My dad, bless him, has regularly visited to keep the lawn in check and let some fresh air into the place. I suspect he’s starting to fall in love with her, just as I have.
Thanks to his efforts, she’s looking less dishevelled from the outside than I’d expected.
 
Inside is a different story. 

The mice have had a whale of a time. 
They ate the bird nuts. They ate the chair legs. They even ate an entire box of tealights, leaving only the metal dishes behind. 
I imagine they had a bellyache after that one. 
I also found little nests everywhere. In my oven glove, behind a sofa cushion, in the back of a drawer. 

Yes, those mice lived their best lives while I was away. 

Luckily, they moved out in the spring, leaving their discarded winter homes for me to clean up. Thank you, mice. 
I can imagine them practically rolling out of the cottage, fat, contented, and ready for a lovely summer.

The spiders haven’t been doing too badly for themselves either. A carpet of webbing covers the eves, and in every corner, at least three spiders sit, staring at me in the hope that if they sit still enough, I won’t notice and evict them. They hope in vain. 
Although I do like to allow the fat juicy ones to stay in the kitchen window, as they’re very good at catching the giant bluebottles, who love to zoom in and buzz around loudly when the front door is kept open on dry days. 
Thanks to the efforts of the window spiders, all is usually quiet again by teatime.

Everywhere is a layer of dust, and the fires are cold, damp and reluctant to be awakened from their damp slumber. 
I’m calling this month ‘The Big May Clean’. Since it may take all month to set things in order.

Still, it’s nice to finally be back. There was a deep feeling of calm, groundedness as I opened the big oak door and stepped inside, breathing in the ‘cottage smell’ for the first time in far too long.

I’m looking forward to enjoying another glorious off-grid summer.

Fox
xx