Cabin fever prompts a meandering post about living in comfort or otherwise in less than a 25 cubic metre space.

That's roughly the size of the space we  inhabit for months on end. It works fine if we are living outdoors some of the time and getting out and about most days. 

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When bad weather traps us inside it can be hard going. It doesn't take many consecutive days of being stuck indoors before cabin fever sets in. It is now five days since we were wandering around the pintxos bars of Donastia. We have travelled 600kms, stayed in three different places, suffered single digit temperatures every day, had three days of heavy rain, along with gusty, maddening winds most of the time. Now we only have two days left before we head back north, it is probably too much to hope that they will sunny and warm, but with luck they may be decent enough for us mooch about in Meze or use the bikes on via verde that runs alongside the Etand de Thau.

This trip has not been terrible, but at times it has felt like a grown up version of 'Lemony Snicket's a Series of Unfortunate Events'. Take this morning, we had packed up, unhooked from the EHU, rolled off the ramps, all we needed to do was to fold up ground sheet we usually put down outside the habitation door; given the windy weather had I secured it with sturdy 12cm tent pegs. When we arrived I struggled somewhat to hammer them in, but when I came to remove them, one of them would not budge at all, neither levering it with the mallet handle, a claw hammer, or a broom shank had any effect. In the end I had it dig it out. It was then that I discovered the layer of solid clay 6cms below the loose gritty top soil. It delayed our departure by almost half an hour. I felt picked on.

Taken on its own it was no big deal, but combined with bad weather trapping us  inside, consecutive days of motorway driving through blustery rain, lingering post Covid symptoms, then it is difficult not to conclude that this trip has not been as much fun as they usually are. 

I have written before about 'endishness' the sense of ennui that comes with journey's end. We are on day 68, our original intention was to max out our 90 day Schengen allowance but we are heading home earlier than anticipated. Ostensibly this is because Sarah and Rob are going on holiday in late April and need us to look after Ralfi. However, I do wonder if in fact we have a previously undiscovered personal 70 - 75 day travel limit. Even before Brexit overcomplicated European travel we never wandered about for more than 70 or so days at a time, we would fly back while leaving the van in secure storage after ten weeks or so on the road. We always had a reason, family Christmas, needing to be around because of Gill's father's care needs. Maybe though we always have had a ten week wander limit but never realised it.

So we have been discussing how we might travel in future. More precisely for the next three years. After then we become septuagenarians and that will complicate travel even more, limiting the kerb weight of vehicles I can drive and the willingness of insurers to provide cover for longer trips.  

Whatever happens, our travels in Europe will have to work within two 90 day periods separated by a three month break. What we imagined we would do are autumn trips starting in mid-August and ending in mid-November, Christmas and January in the UK, then heading to Santander by ferry in  mid-February, returning home by mid-May.

Now I am not so sure. The vagaries of the Schengen visa rules are not the only considerations. We also fancy more long haul, visiting the Far East and returning to New Zealand. Then there is South America, having acquired a liking for things Hispanic, experiencing its reinvention in Latin America would be interesting. The problem is if the cost of living rises we have experienced over the past few months continue then visiting far flung places for weeks on end will slip beyond our means, It is not just the increasing price of long haul flights and accommodation that is the problem, the cost travelling by motorhome long term in Europe is already increasing alarmingly - a couple of days ago I saw diesel at €2.21 per litre in France. 

By the time we arrive home we will have clocked up over 4000 miles, a little more than usual since we  criss-crossed Iberia in search of a sunny spot. Still, the chances are in 2022 we will total between eight and nine thousand miles travelling in the van, as we have most years. I figure if you calculate the annual cost of fuel at the current prices, fees for low season campsites and aires, ferry fares, including a couple of longer crossings, then the yearly expenditure for our shoulder season European travels would be around £6,300. 

Say that covers 150 days travel -  that's £42 per day. The last time we took a comparable journey was pre-Covid in the early months of 2020, the daily cost then was around £35, the same as it had been on our first long trip in 2014/15. For a while I could not understand why the cost of travelling in Greece in 2015 was the same as travelling in Scandinavia three years later. Then it dawned on me, our first van was far less fuel efficient, averaging 22mpg; the current one on this trip is getting a smidgeon under 30mpg and does even better in less mountainous terrain.

When it comes to long haul, then our 6 week trip to New Zealand cost around £7000, but it remains to be seen what the price of travelling half way around the globe will be once the world finally emerges from the pandemic. I think we might have to face the uncomfortable truth that we are not going to be able to afford shoulder season meanderings through Europe and trips to more exotic destinations. Given the choice of 40 days somewhere faraway or 150 days wandering about Europe then the chances are we will choose the latter. 

Which brings me finally, and somewhat circuitously to how we might re-think our travelling life. I like to think that I am, or at least aspire to be, a rationally minded person. This means I ought to be equally happy to be proven wrong as to be proven right and am able to adjust my point of view when new evidence comes to light or circumstances change. Which brings me to the question - where in Europe are you most likely to get consistent mild winter weather and the most sunny days? Both here and on various Facebook motorhome groups that I have joined, then left, I confidently asserted that only on coasts south of the 38° parallel will you find consistently fine winter weather. I still think there is some truth in this -  Spain - south of  Murcia; Portugal - the Algarve and Alentejo coast south of Sines; Italy - the southern half of Sicily; Greece - the Mani and other parts of the southern Peloponnese. We have had lovely winter days in all these places, I have managed to swim in the Mediterranean throughout the year, but not this year. We have had sunny days, but not a consistent period of fine weather with temperatures nudging up into the twenties.  

So here is our plan B: Long trips of between 70 -75 days;  Autumn in the eastern Mediterranean from the beginning of September to mid November (Gill guaranteed an Italian birthday); Spring in Iberia and France from mid-March to the end of May (Pete guaranteed a birthday with a view of the Med). This would mean we would benefit from the longer evenings and more spring-like weather in April and May. Then we could add all of Portugal, Spain's Costa Verde and the Sierra's of the interior, as well as most of France south the Loire as areas to explore, as well as our more usual stomping ground around the Mediterranean coast. 

The downside is that we would end up in England from mid-November to mid-March, in other words throughout the winter which is what we were trying to avoid in the first place. Still, we could think about flying for a  shorter break to non Schengen destinations during January or February.  Also, if you travelled for seventy odd days in the autumn, getting back mid-November, you could fly out and take city break somewhere in the EU for a week or so up until mid-December, if your next trip to Europe was not until the following mid-March.

"But I like watching Spring come to life in the garden in April and May" Gill mused as we discussed all this. It's true, I do too, we have a lovely patch of mixed woodland at the back of our garden. There is lots of birdlife and entertaining garden visitors like squirrels, ducks and pheasants, and the nocturnal guests we rarely see, like owls and badgers. Yes, Spring is nice at home. That would put the kibosh on plan B. 

Back to square one. Having gone through the inevitable "Brexit, what an utterly ludicrous idea" ritual fulmination, OK, plan C....