Simple pleasures: Louise with Mia and Scarlet in front of the campervan which will be their new home for three weeks


The little yellow VW camper-van which is going to be our home for the next three weeks turns out to be much smaller than we thought. It is 10am on Saturday morning when my husband David and the girls, Mia aged nine and Scarlett, five, come and pick me up from work after four hours of presenting Breakfast on BBC1.

After seeing the campervan, I immediately realise we need to cut our packing down by half.

But it still manages to include four wetsuits, two surfboards, four sleeping bags with inflatable mattresses, one Argos six-man tent and a partridge in an electronic tree (in this case mobiles, iPods, one MacBook Pro, a BlackBerry, a DVD player, Nintendo, video camera, and a digital SLR).

I just manage to fit a handful of books, diaries and colouring pens down the side of a seat in our yellow tin can.

It couldn’t be less like our car. Gone are the chunky doors, consoles, lights, stereo surround-sound, air-conditioning and onboard computer.

We have only three things on the dashboard: a speedometer, a milometer and
a fuel gauge. There’s also a fan that doesn’t work. We are down from six gears to four, with a top speed of 55mph.

The girls think it is hilarious that we have to wind down the windows by hand. We spend the first night trying out all our camping gear, in the safety of David’s brother’s field in Somerset. The tent takes two hours to put up, so we won’t be rushing anywhere.

This is going to be a pared-down life-style: four knives, four forks, four mugs. No fridge, no oven (although there is a hob and grill), no shower, no loo!

To get to Santander, we catch Brittany Ferries’ flagship Pont Aven in Plymouth. We have a four-berth cabin with a view, and the girls ignore the sign saying the bunks are not for children and hop happily from one to the other above our heads.

They can’t believe their luck as there is a cinema and swimming pool on board, and I promise two movies and popcorn.

Our first sight of Spain is of a long yellow sandy beach with deep green hills, backed by a hint of mountains shrouded in cloud. The ferry passes only yards from the shore and dogs bark and bikini-clad sunbathers wave us into Santander.

Only after we land do we decide we will head west in search of surf. Even though the ferry deposits you right in the middle of the city, it’s easy to get out of Santander. We stop and stock up with petrol, food, and water, and I cause a huge queue in the shop as I have failed to weigh my vegetables. But my Spanish degree makes life easier, and they are happy to help me out.


Rugged beauty: The coast near Ribadero where Louise Minchin's family stopped off for breakfast


We take the scenic route west through the charming fishing village of Comillas which has a gorgeous campsite set up on the rocks above the beach.

David thinks it is too soon to stop, so we drive on to Oyambre. We are doing a U-turn near the campsite there when an old man on a Vespa waves at us. We realise he is in fact the mobile receptionist and wants us to follow him round to find a pitch.

The campsite is right next to Playa de Oyambre, a wide crescent moon of a beach with hot white sand. There is a bit of surf so we both have a potter, and Mia teaches Scarlett to bodysurf in the warm waves. We have lunch in the cafe Pajaro Amarillo on the beach.

The place is charming, although the waiter is hopeless. I have the most delicious bright yellow seafood paella but they serve my entire meal before they bring anything for the children. David’s Jamon Iberico arrives when all of us have finished.
The campsite is beautifully kept, with manicured lawns and fuchsias and hydrangeas growing between the pitches.

Everyone seems to have come here for the whole summer, and they have literally brought the kitchen sink with them. Most of them have a separate tent for the kitchen, which is a brilliant idea.

They also have their parrots, dogs, cats and kittens. Evenings are noisy as children run around until midnight eating giant packets of crisps while their parents watch TV outside, smoking.

I see what I think is a huge lagoon right at the end of the beach where a river meets the sea. I persuade everyone to go on an expedition just as the tide has turned and the ocean starts spilling into the lake.

We manage to time it so that when we jump in by the beach, the water is coming in so fast it sweeps us up the river and round the corner into the lagoon. It’s like a huge natural water park. I love it and we do it three times before Scarlett gets too cold.

After three nights, it’s time to move on west again, but we have no idea where we will end up. The girl on reception takes pity on us and gives me a Spanish camping guide. We hit the brand new motorway, which is squashed between the cliffs and stunning mountains right up to the roadside.

We know we are driving past the Picos de Europa but sadly can’t see the mountain tops as they are covered in ominous grey clouds.

The dual carriageway has huge sweeping viaducts so high that they make me feel dizzy driving over them. The road is fast and cuts our journey down by hours, and we make it to the overgrown fishing village of Luarca in half the time we thought.

We take a look at the beach, which is inside the sea walls surrounded by brightly painted beach huts and is rocky with grey sand. We don’t like the look of it, so we decide to carry on into the countryside through fields of maize. We pass a couple gathering in their corn by hand in the hot sunshine.

Eventually, as the roads get smaller and smaller we find Camping El Tauran and are given a terse welcome by the severe but glamorous Spanish senora who runs the site super- efficiently.

The pitches are gorgeous, set into trees and hedges on the edge of a steep cliff looking down on the deep blue sea and dark rocks below. There is only a wire fence to stop you falling over the edge.

We park our little yellow van with our first sea view.
The girls are really excited as there is a swimming pool, but we are chased away by horseflies so fierce that they stay on our heads even when you are underwater.

At dinner in the tiny restaurant, there are only four things on the menu: cabbage soup, bean soup, tortilla and spaghetti bolognaise. Not inspiring, but all home-made and delicious.

In search of surf, we look at what is turning out to be our bible – The Stormrider Surf Guide Europe – and decide to check out nearby Frejulfe beach. We climb down through the eucalyptus trees to find a stunning black sandy beach with a sharp shelf down to the sea. The surf is up and a bit fierce for me, so David goes out on my board while the girls and I have a runabout and swim in a small river that runs into the sea.

In search of the daily ice cream, we run across baking-hot sand. By 2pm it is so hot it burns, and Scarlett and I have to sit down halfway across with our feet in the air to stop them scorching.

The holiday unfolds in days of endless seaside bliss.
We stop at the medieval town of Ribadeo for breakfast of chocolate con churros (hot chocolate with long, skinny doughnuts that you dip in), which the children love. It’s a pretty place and our visit was made by a religious pilgrimage of singers and musicians making their way to a shrine above the town.

Meanwhile, our little yellow home, which we had hired from www.eastcoastcampers.co.uk, was attracting a lot of attention, with everyone asking questions, and I found myself conducting minitours.

Where does it come from? England, but imported from Brazil. Is it new? Yes, it has only 1,000 miles on the clock. Is it air-cooled? No, they are not any more.
We were really sad to say goodbye to Spain. It was the best holiday we have ever had with the children. In three weeks on the road, we have found some fabulously unspoilt beaches, I have learnt to surf and we have had great fun being together, just the four of us.

The trip is made when Mia asks me where her Nintendo is, and she realises she hasn’t played it once.

The girls learnt a little Spanish, mostly the obvious ‘hola’ and ‘gracias’. Worryingly, Scarlett’s favourite word is ‘cana’, which is the small glass of beer that David has been ordering.

When I ask Mia and Scarlett what they liked most about the holiday, it isn’t the beaches, the campervan or having us all to themselves, but the different kinds of ice cream. Brilliant. We could have stayed at home!

Travel Facts

Brittany Ferries (0871 244 1400, www.brittanyferries.com/spain) offers return fares from Portsmouth and Plymouth to Santander from £354 return for a car and two passengers, including en suite cabin accommodation.



source :dailymail