Straight south

Portsmouth is the nearest Channel port to home but we rarely use it. The cost of Brittany Ferries' longer crossings are off-putting and only make sense if you are heading for the west of France or Iberia. It's a shame really because although the distance is not significantly shorter -  merely 20 miles less than to Dover, because you avoid the M1 and M25 it is a much more relaxing drive.

Consequently we made better progress than anticipated. Brittany ferries website states that motorhomes and caravans wishing to park overnight before catching an early morning ferry are only allowed onto the quayside after midnight. By 7pm. we had reached Berkshire, it looked as if we were going to have to hole-up for hours in a motorway service area near Newbury, not an alluring prospect. Gill phoned ahead, apparently it was OK to arrive anytime after 10.30. In fact when we turned-up some minutes before the allotted time there were a score or more vans and caravans already settled down for the night. Quite clearly most people simply ignore the advice, which we will too if we ever use Portsmouth in the future.

As sleeping on a dockside goes, Portsmouth proved better than most; not exactly peaceful, but because freight traffic has a separate entrance at least our slumbers were not interrupted by the revving late arrivals and throbbing refrigerated trailer units which disturbed our dawn departure from Newhaven in August.

We set the alarm for seven. Most people were quicker off the mark than us. Even so, we were through check-in well before the final call at 8am. The only thing of note was a minor Brexit related piece of theatre. In order to assert that Boris is definitely 'getting Brexit done' and we really are taking control of our borders, the passport control area has been re designated as a 'maritime security zone' complete with a giant sign proclaiming the fact painted on the side of two newly constructed custom's sheds. The entire area is overlooked by a giant video screen which alternates a stern message that dogs and children must stay in cars in restricted areas at all times with slo-mo ads. proclaiming the sunny delights of St. Malo and Santander. 

As well as snazzy new infrastructure, there is also a small army of hi-res clad Border Force personnel on hand. One recent recruit stood in front of us and painstakingly made a note of our registration number, then peered at our wheels and made further written observations, presumably satisfying himself that our wheel nuts and alloys were fully compliant with British standards. Next he requested to come aboard, and shone a torch, X-Files style, into all the van's nooks and crannies. Finally, with a mirror on a long pole he painstakingly checked underneath the van, made a few final notes (no aliens on board); he then waved us through.

I guess we are simply going to have to get used to ridiculous performances from officialdom to assure us that that not only are we leaving the EU, but we are doing so very overtly. For devout Brexiteers, l think being seen to be leaving is as important as the act itself. It is only a matter of time before the South Downs AOB is reinvented as 'Sunny Uplands National Park'. 

Thirty hours is a very long time to be stuck on a car ferry, especially one that bills itself as a no frills low budget option. We can vouch that there was not one frill in sight, but at £485 for a one way trip the claim about it being a low budget option seems questionable. 

The alternative, to drive to the south of Spain, through most of England and the entire length of France is not an alluring prospect in the depths of winter. In the event on the day we departed the weather was kind to us and the forecast good. Clear, and bright when we collected the van from storage, dull but dry the whole way to Portsmouth  There have quite a few occasions in other early Januaries when we would have had to dig the van out of a snowdrift. Still, a few hours into the crossing driving the whole way seemed preferable; anything would have been better than how queasy I was feeling. 

Soon my mood became as ill-disposed as my stomach. Why are people who own caravans unusually ugly? Do I talk total bollocks like the overbearing quartet that I am sitting beside? Do I look as decrepit as all the other overweight wrinkles on board? Why is everyone reading the Daily Mail? Can seasickness prove fatal? Might that be preferable to how I am feeling right now....As I said, 30 hours is an awfully long time to be trapped on a car ferry. 

Finally the snowy Picos de Europa appeared off the starboard bow, though Spain was in sight we still were two hours from Santander, time enough to have lunch.

The food on the budget service is very basic fare - think ready meals, a bit better than Gregg's, but much worse than Waitrose. The exception was the rack of lamb that Gill had last night, quite delicious, unlike my spinach and ricotta pasta dish which looked beige and tasted like cardboard 

Overall the long sea crossing experience was somewhat charmless, but to be fair, so is long haul, and similarly the minor trials of the journey soon fade once you arrive. Santander looked very jolly under clear blue skies as we drove off the ferry. It had taken less than two days to get here from home.  A short drive would get us to the aire at Sumo. When we turned off the motorway onto more country roads the Cantabrian mountains and lush pastures were velvet green, not wintry looking at all.

Even when we discovered the aire marked as open all year on Camper Contacts proved to be closed for the holiday season did not dampen our spirits. Let's stay at the 'elephant aire' instead, we decided. 

Less than half an hour later we drew into the free parking next to the lake at Parque de Cabárceno, it accommodates fifty vans, we were the third to arrive. We took a walk up the track to see if we could spot an elephant. Of course we did, and a baby too.

Tomorrow we are heading for Salamanca. January 6th is the Feast of the King's, the day Spain celebrates the Epiphany, big family meals and exchanging gifts are the order of the day - like our Christmas Day. The country closes down. I am hoping for empty roads across the sunny plains of Spain tomorrow.