As I mentioned in a previous post, we had arranged to spend a few days down in Cornwall (or Kernow in the modern corrnish language).
Our friends had dragged their caravan down a few days ago and now it was our turn to join them.
Following another crap night, thanks to my knee) Sue volunteered to start the driving. We had about two hundred and eighty miles to cover.
But before we could hit the road, we had to pack the car with all our camping paraphernalia. Amazingly, we got it all in a lot easier than usual.
Sue chose to go for the motorways and started with a brief spell on the M6 before switching to the M42. On joining the M42, our SatNav had calculated that the journey should take about four and a half hours. With a break or two, we should get to the campsite around three.
The motorways were kind to us with no roadworks but by the time we were approaching Bristol, a comfort break was called for.
The next service station was Gordano which reminded me of a particular round of our regular pub quiz when we were asked if a word was a cheese or motorway services. Gordano was one of them.
With empty bladders, our attention turned to snackage and being motorway services (not cheese) we were able to pick up some bits from W.H.Smith’s.
Replenished, we swapped driving roles and returned to the M5.
Somewhere just north of Exeter, we bid farewell to the M5 and joined the A30.
The SatNav (Google Maps running on my iPhone, through CarPlay) indicated that we would need to turn left at the next junction. Strangely, the next road junction was over one hundred miles away.
Luckily, it was correct as the A30 is two lanes each way with exits via slip roads so no perky roundabouts.
However, not all was plain sailing as the SatNav indicated stationary traffic ahead.
A quick glance at the map showed a road running roughly parallel so on went the indicator and off went us.
If nothing else, driving back on ordinary roads was a welcome relief from the monotony of cruise control but we eventually had to rejoin the A30. Luckily, at our re-entry location was a garage where we welcomed the amenities to empty and refill.
We caught the end of whatever it was that had slowed the traffic but once cleared were only about twenty minutes behind schedule.
At the aforementioned roundabout, we took the right and within a further couple of miles were driving onto the campsite.
There was nobody at the reception but we were spotted by our friends who ask us to follow them to our pitch which they had thoughtfully arranged to be next to them.
With extra hands, and mugs of coffee, we soon had the tent erected before we were left to install all the other bits and pieces needed for a week under canvas.
At around five we were done. Not bad. We had left home just before 10:00, driven nearly three hundred miles (with our self inflicted diversion) and were all set up by 17:00.
I was dispatched to forage for dinner (courtesy of ASDA) and took to opportunity to have a quick look at nearby Hayle before returning with my spoils.
With dinner out of the way, we were taken to the local hostelry to enjoy a few drinks before returning to camp for the first of our six nights.