Twist, no click. Twist, no click. Nothing, not even a sputter. Two days before I’d been packing the van, getting some food stocks put away nicely in the cupboards when the radio sprang to life quite of its own accord. No blearing music, just static. I turned it off, and put it down to a gremlin and promptly ignored it (because all problems disappear when you ignore them, right?). Fast forward two days, sitting in the drivers seat, turning the key with nothing happening.

This wasn’t how the holiday was supposed to start. The van was packed, we were ready to go…

But Gunther had other ideas. The radio gremlin had run down the starter battery. A quick call to our breakdown cover, and 40 minutes later, we were running, but under strict orders to keep the engine running for long enough to give the battery a good charge. Then as we set off, Gunther started squeaking – a high pitched squeak that was coming from the back wheel that sounded like a hamster wheel that needed oiling. We were already late, so we ignored that too…

Our mission was a week travelling the west coast of Wales from north to south, and we picked a week at random that happened to be at the beginning of one of the longest heatwaves the UK had ever seen, quite a spot of luck! First stop, Graig Wen Camping – one of the most staggeringly beautiful camping spots we’ve ever come across. Fabulous scenery, a bike path at the end of the field linking the two nearest towns, and plenty of things to explore. We spent a day eating ice creams on the beach at Barmouth, and the other playing in the river near Dolgellau. The site itself had all the small touches sorted – honesty shop for anything you might need, as well as stocking lots of local beers. Perfect. In. Every. Way.

The squeaking was persisting, but the beauty of having a near 30 year old van with a horrifically noisy diesel engine was that as soon as you’re travelling over 30mph ears start to bleed. So we turned the radio up, and used sign language and lip reading to communicate. Our next stay was to Blaenwaun Caravan Park just outside village of Mwnt overlooking Cardigan Bay.

But not before a stop off at a childhood haunt of Tresaith for a bit of building sandcastles and rockpooling. We very nearly didn’t escape the grip of the beach – somewhere I’d spent so much time as a child visiting grandparents who had a house on the hill – Gunther was at it again. We’d parallel parked on the hill, and left him in forward gear because the handbreak wouldn’t hold (!).

When it was time to leave he didn’t want to. Not the battery this time, but the engine, the clutch or something didn’t want to give us enough forward momentum to climb out of our parking spot. After a couple of attempts and nervous glances between us as the van rolled back. Getting ever closer to the car behind with a handbrake that wasn’t holding we gave him full beans, slipping the clutch and watching as the horrified faces enjoying the terrace of the local pub watched our horrified faces.

As we edged forwards we apologised to the oncoming car who had to stop and reverse – we couldn’t risk stopping!

The campsite was little more than a field laid out in terraced rows but it was so empty we were allowed to pitch side on to the view – a panorama of open sea. We spent two days building sandcastles on the beach and whilst we had temperatures that were matching the Mediterranean we thought better of swimming in the Irish Sea as the water temperature was still hovering around the 12°C mark Chilly.

Moving on, (the hamster was still with us) our third stop was the famous Three Cliffs Bay on the Gower peninsular. Three very different camping experiences within a week – from the small Graig Waun to the Three Cliffs supersite, not necessarily in size, but certainly in terms of facilities and atmosphere.

It gave us a great indication of our camping priorities for future trips. Whilst the hotel standard showers and farm shop were wonderful, we definitely left feeling that we would favour smaller places with more open space. The pitches were smaller, and there was definitely a sense that profit was more important here than anywhere else we’d stayed.

But the setting – by God, the setting – at the top of the cliff overlooking a golden beach that stretches as far as the eye can see – all within walking distance. It’s hard to describe the relaxing effect of being able to get to the beach every day, of having the expanse of open space to run, chase, fly a kite and to paddle with the waves lapping your feet.

We’d discovered a new kind of holiday – one that was only possible thanks to Gunther

Heading home had come all too soon. I still smile thinking about the memories we made in that week of sunshine and beaches and driving. The hamster had made it all the way too – except it’d grown up and become more of a growling, grinding metal on metal kind of dog.

Our first escape in Gunther, and he’d managed to eat his own battery and spit out a wheel bearing. The responsibility and expense of VW T3 ownership was only just beginning to dawn on us, but we were hooked!