Wagons Roll and the Squeak from Hell

Auckland to Ohope

Saturday 31 October 2020

Although we’re not exactly novices in the campervan lark, it’s fair to say that it’s been a while. Quite a while in fact. Yes, the size of the vehicle may have changed but the principals are the same. Let the road guide you and see where you end up. Bruce Springsteen would be proud.

Well he would be if we hadn’t booked all of the campgrounds in advance and had a strict itinerary to follow. Maybe Born to Run wouldn’t quite have had the same romantic feel to it if the protagonists agreed to set off next Tuesday but only after having checked their packing list, made sure the Sat Nav was loaded with their destinations and the plants had been watered. 

The last time we tried this we were in a VW Combi and headed into the Yorkshire Dales. This time we’re in a modern van with more space. Nowhere near as iconic but more practical even if it is much more difficult to park.

After a bit of faffing around; getting the vehicle from the depot near the airport, driving back into town to pack and then finally setting off, we were on our way! Free but not-quite-so-easy.

If the van was sluggish to start with, it was even more so once laden with our possessions. It wasn’t the acceleration that was a problem but the braking. It took a lot of effort and forward planning to bring the lump of machinery to a stop. Maybe we over did the wine? Ah well, who needs emergency stops anyway? And the bonus is that the more we drink the safer we get! 

Despite the modeninity of the vehicles, boy it didn’t half rattle around, presumably from pots, pans, cutlery  and other camping equipment in the back.

The rattling we could live with - it was part of the deal you could say - but there was a squeak.

SQUEAK!

And not just any squeak. This was the squeak from hell. 

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

It was as if two overly enthusiastic mice were squabbling over who took the last piece of cheese. 

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

And had somehow found a mouse sized loudhailer to inform us of their plight.

Loud music drowned out some of the cacophony and I found by concentrating on driving I could largely ignore it.

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PULL OVER!!”

Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for my co-traveller. Needless to say, I pulled over.

A quick pit stop later, we’d identified the source of the squeak. A catch on the foldaway bed. How something so small could make such a racket was beyond me. But it was. 

We were back on the road and could finally relax, and soon rolled into our first stop Ohope Beach. The beers were opened and we sat and watched the rolling sea.

Ahhh. The holiday had stated.