Sometimes you stumble across something so different you just have to go see. So, when we found a site that offered both touring pitches and the chance to glamp in a Westland Wessex helicopter we just had to go. Yes you did read that right, they have a (grounded) helicopter available to stay in.

But that's not all. Accommodation also includes a submarine! It makes the shepherd's hut, shack, Bollywood campervan, and other such seem positively mundane.

But the real charm of this site isn't just its unique and oddball glamping, it's its unique and oddball approach to camping in total.

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Where else could you find a fully equipped kitchen, complete with the normal stuff like microwave and toaster but also with industrial meat slicer and food mixer housed in a double-decker bus (don't forget to ding-ding or say hello to the clippy . Or baked potato oven, wood-fired pizza oven, huge barbeque pit, and gas barbeque should you not want the effort of firelighting.

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You want entertainment, the silent disco, or the grain silo converted into a cinema with a wide range of DVDs for all tastes and ages perhaps? And kids, of all ages, can satisfy their inner pirate by rendering a good "Aargh, shiver me timbers" whilst captaining the Black Pearl to treasures anew.

You still want entertaining, then the disco shower is the thing for you. Strut your stuff to the music and light show whilst shampooing your golden locks. Oh, you don't like this song, reach out and press the  large Barry Manilow button to see if the next is more conducive to lathering.

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The more staid may want the more conventional showers offered in the loo block, externally it looks as strangely steampunk as the rest of the site but inside there's as tidy and clean a set of toilets and showers as any site. Oh, and if you are caught short and that block is fully occupied there's always the wonderfully named Turdis at the other end of the site.

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But it's not just the bricks and mortar (or to be more accurate wood and rusting iron) that makes this campsite it's the attitude.  Firstly EVERYTHING is provided, wood, charcoal, firelighters, tea, coffee, washing up liquid, cups, glasses, knives and forks, dishwasher (complete with tablets, of course) etc, a reasonably well stocked shop (no alcohol) and a washing machine. And it is all either free and gratis or on an honesty trust system. You go to the shop, you take a couple of eggs and a box of cereal say, you press the Ronnie Barker Open All Hours till (an experience in its own right), put in your money and take your change. The site treats you as someone responsible who will do this, so you do.

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Oh, I mentioned the washing machine. I probably forgot to mention that it is inside a Robin Reliant (Del Boy) 3-wheeler car. Like the shop, it's trust based. The site reckons £1 is a good reimbursement for the electricity it uses so asks you to simply lob a quid coin in the bucket sitting on top.

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This all makes for an interesting and very different camping experience. The plentitude of shared spaces for sitting in the shade, did I mention the top of the bus is also a seating area, with bean bags complimenting the standard bus seats, means that campers mill around and talk to each other. It's that sort of shared experience campsite. Mind you the owners are very pleasant too.

But let's get back to what makes more conventional campsites good ones, Good clean facilities? Windmill tick; tidy mown grass? Windmill tick. Location? Well this is the view from the adjacent lane.

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In fact, anyone who knows Carisbrooke Castle knows that pretty much any approach leaves pedestrians with a pretty steep uphill slog; it really is in a good fortified position. But the approach from the campsite probably has by far the least steep climb, well, two average fitness 70 year olds managed it easily anyway.

Carisbrooke village is about 20 minutes gentle stroll away. I can recommend the Waverley pub for both excellent beer (it's in the CAMRA Good Beer Guide) and a fantastically valued, excellent Sunday roast. Warning, we were glad we didn't take the option for the larger  portion. the village also has a regular bus service into Newport, the island's hub (although it's only a couple of miles walk). There is also the two-hourly number 6 bus at Carisbrooke Piorty which is only 10 minutes from the site. Road access is easiest via that road to the Priory, it is single track, but short with good visibility and plenty of passing places.

So what's not to like.  The site isn't really disabled friendly, and the main shower is a step-in bath type (yes you probably could have a bath) so not easy for the less nimble. But, to be honest, I suspect that is not this site's target audience. The only other thing that might put people off is price. Low season it was probably getting on for £10-15 a night more expensive than the cheapest, larger, more conventional sites. But then again, they don't offer the same unique experience, and will charge for everything, barbeque coals, washing machine, wi-fi (I forgot that is included, and it's good enough to allow me to write this and upload the photos onto my home server), and even sometimes showers and hairdryers (another thing I forget to mention). Take the entire package into account and the value proposition changes dramatically.

Bottom line, don't forget your John Lennon sunglasses, learn the chords to Give Peace a Chance and go chill out at Windmill Farm. Forget the harsh reality and spend a few days where the world is more as it should be, full of friendship and trust. I doubt you'll regret it.

When I got back I made a little map to consolidate the route.

We really did cover a lot of the country

Those cheap train fares are too good to miss. It's likely to be showery so today's a good day to be warm inside a GWR carriage, or pub near to the destination station. So the plan is: take the bus to Plymouth Station, catch the first sensible train out, somewhere! Somewhere cheap that is, not the Edinburgh Express!

And the winning destination is ...

Totnes is Devon's equivalent of Glastonbury, lots of bijou shops, many selling healing crystals, others laden with macrobiotic fare, chakra alignment centres. You know the sort of thing. Actually that's not quite fair, it's probably true of Glastonbury but Totnes also has more than its share of interesting antique and second-hand shops, little artisan craft shops etc. If it wasn't built in a hill, and if the narrow pavements weren't quite so busy it would be a delight.

The museums sadly disappoint. The textiles museum is closed and the tiny town museum with its Babbage Room is full of people in the midst of a guided tour. Shame I would have liked to have seen what the museum had to offer.

Now what Totnes does have in abundance is breweries. Three of them in fact. The Totnes Brewing Company is at the top of the town but sadly doesn't open until 5pm. Now a magnificent feat of mis-navigation by me means we head in opposite direction to the Bay Horse Inn, the taproom for the New Lion brewery (but something we overheard later suggested it may have been closed at lunchtime anyway). Success however with the taproom for the Bridgetown brewery - a pub that has undergone a theme change without changing its name

Indeed the great man features several times throughout the pub

The beer was good too. Liz tried both the Albert Ale and the West Coast IPA but I found the Shark Island Stout so good a second pint was in order.

En route to the train station we pass the actual New Lion brewery. It's open so a few bottles are purchased, Totnes Stout, a 6.6% special stout and their vintage 11.8% Quadrupel, Trappist style ale. Now an evening comparing that with Siren's Maiden Ale (similar strength) just had to be on the cards sometime.

Arrived at a random time back at the station to find a Plymouth train in about 8 minutes.

What a nice day out!

Oh, that's better, first night we've not frozen our derrieres off. Let's hope the weather is improving.

Boring stuff to start with. Our journey since Exeter has been marvelously exempt of decent food shops. Even Lynton didn't have much, certainly not a decent butcher or baker open when we walked the streets; although, curiously there was a candle maker.

Net result, food stocks are low. Anyway there's a huge Sainsbury about a mile away. Not only that but Liz has found a pedestrian route that underpasses the huge road interchange. Boring indeed but must be done and two heavy, heaving backpacks are borne home.

Quick change and back out to the bus stop and into town. A quick wander around the shopping area (it has to be done) and then off to the Hoe.

Some snaps en route:

The Hoe, of course is dominated by Smeaton's Tower

But some other pics too

I particularly liked the idea of a seagull hitching a lift off an airman. Per Ardua my arse!

You've probably not been following the miles but Shank's Pony has trotted a few. Time for a pint, and where better than the city's oldest pub

OK that picture is a cheat, it was taken from inside the pub to capture the light through the window, and then inverted

But this one is untouched

The Minerva was a wonderful welcoming pub with a fantastic jukebox. I suspect the few at the bar may have been there best part of the afternoon but they were very friendly and chatty. I could have stayed -but The Fortescue beckons.

9 real ales, 6 ciders and a full Greene King good menu. No, I lie about the food. No, the CAMRA Good Beer Guide app lies about the food. Using the app there is a website link, which seems to take you to a totally different Fortescue - a Greene King pub with the standard Greene King fare for both ale and food. So, it came as little surprise to be informed by the Fortescue's landlady that they don't do food (excepting Sunday lunch). But we were free to source our dinner elsewhere and eat it in the pub. Looking behind us through the pub window a Papa John pizza had strategically placed itself to exploit this niche.

Once again the Fortescue lived up to Plymouth's standard of exceptionally friendly pubs (no, more than that, people speak in the street, the bus drivers are friendly and helpful - Plymouth is just a friendly and welcoming city). The landlady spotted my CAMRA card in my wallet before I could even enquire about discount. She then came over and recommended other city pubs with discount, including The Fisherman's Arms which even discounts its food. Three good pints, although the Cornish Crown porter wouldn't be my favourite dark beer and we find a bus that drops us within a mile of the campsite

Mind you all these miles add up. One more toddle across to the campsite's loos and my tracker will have logged 21,000 steps for today. That's about 10 miles, not bad for a shopping trip and bimble round town.

Funny how things change. Just a couple of days ago we were thinking of cutting this trip short because of the cold. Today we extend our stay on this site by another 3 days, until the weekend.

Riverside campsite in Plymouth did indeed have spaces, so here we are. Liz idly looks at a train website to see if the Maltings beer festival at Newton Abbot might be doable. Yep, trains run regularly. Check fares - with my Railcard £9.60. That's not bad. Hold on, that's for both of us! It's 23 miles to Newton Abbot and with Railcard it's only £4.80 return. Can't be right! I double check. I try Penzance 67 miles away. With Railcard £7.35 for day return. Crazy! So Plan A is to stay here and use free buses or cheap trains to explore hither and beyond.

So first order of the day is to get into town (no, that's second order, first order is to shower, it's been a few days) and find the bus and train timetables. Whilst we're there we might as well enquire on a gin distillery tour. Oh, there are slots at 3.30, sorted. Wandering around the old Barbican area of the city we find a Tourist Information. Everything we need and so no need to hunt for bus and train stations, excellent.

There's some wonderful antique shops here. One is part museum, original costumes from The Hunger Games were not for sale. Nor was the stuffed tiger, but the 17th century full set of armour was! We left with nothing, other than admiration for the owner.

There's an hour to kill so it would be bad to miss out on a swift pint in The Dolphin, one of Plymouth's famous pubs. It's heaving. Some parts of the walls are adorned with Beryl Cooke prints, many based upon characters who were regulars to the pub. Good beer to, from the local Roam brewery and straight out of the cask.

The gin tour is quite short but interesting, particularly the smelling of the various botanicals and comparing with tastes from a (watered-down for tasting purposes) gin. And, of course, there was the obligatory sample in the cocktail bar to finish. A nice way to spend an afternoon. Sadly no photography was allowed for the risk of sparking any volatile alcohol in the air. Fair enough, they've been distilling there since1793, it would be a shame if it burned down now.

Some other random pictures though:

The holiday is reprieved (for now) - Riverside campsite in Plymouth has spaces.

Oh, and it's the weekend. This means another CAMRA heritage pub, The Drew Arms in Drewsteigton is open at lunchtime (evening only most of the week). Not only that but it is smack next to the National Trust's Castle Drogo (the last castle ever built in this country) and pretty much en route from here to Plymouth.

Liz fights the satnav which wants to take us on roads other than A roads. She's worried about single-track and problems it might cause with us having to reverse. She does a good job to, until 3 miles from Drewsteigton the only access road is single track all the way. Miraculously we meet nothing.

Rather than clutter the village square we follow the car-park sign, down a single track hill only to meet a Volvo SUV coming up. Now he was probably right, it might have been marginally nearer for me to reverse back, but reversing uphill with a slight bend when he had the simpler straight downhill option, no!. After a few minutes of him manoeuvring we pass and he mutters something at me. I can only assume it wasn't too complementary!

The Drewe Arms is another no handpump establishment and interesting enough but pales after yesterday's wonderful experience at The Bridge. And I can't have a pint on these roads, so just a half so I can tick the heritage pub off

Leaving the carpark and up the short single-track hill we meet a car coming down, just where I'd met the Volvo 30 minutes earlier. My turn to reverse, far less stress, fuss and time than the previous encounter.

Blow me, we resume and barely make a few metres when another car appears. It's a sporty jobbie and, no fuss, he waves me forward and reverses back up the hill at great speed!

Still it's only a 1/2 mile to Castle Drogo. Meeting the bus on the next single track bit was unfortunate! Fortunately I had another car behind me and the experienced bus driver flashed us on whilst reversing the bus back up and into the comparative width of the Castle entrance. I'll be glad to get back in main roads!

The castle itself was a bit of a disappointment. To be honest, I think even in better circumstances I would have not liked it. The idea of building a monumental granite castle in the first decades of the 20th century seems a folly beyond belief, especially during a period where architecture was exciting. However, we were denied the grandeur of Lutyens masterpiece - the decision to use the then relatively new asphalt for a flat roof proved a costly mistake as it weathered and cracked, failing to be watertight almost immediately upon completion of the building. So the National Trust are fixing this properly with modern membranes, but in order to do so the entire castle is covered in high-tech tarpaulin, hiding its exterior from view. Even worse, the poor state of watertightness of roof and windows have meant many of the artifacts are in storage too.

Still the (sadly not photogenic) telephone switchboard was impressive as was the hydro-electric switching room.

But at least parts of the garden lent themselves to photos

Oh, yes, and here's today's route

Well, landlord Andy was true to his word and we were chauffered the few miles to Umberleigh station in his Subaru, with him cursing the (probably tourist) driver in getting doing a mere 40mph on this 60-limit road. Mind you I'm not sure if I'd have been much better, this is Devon and bends do have a habit of sharpening unexpectedly.

Umberleigh is a request stop. Yep, you put your hand out to tell the train to stop. It's on time and a couple of locals flag it down, saving us the bother. An hour's train ride into Topsham for just over £7 (with Railcard) - can't be bad. It's a pleasant journey too, although I miss all the wildlife whilst Liz recites her spots: hare, heron, egret.

It's raining in Topsham, raining hard. Fortunately it's only 5 minutes walk to the Bridge Inn. What a wonderful throw-back of a pub. In the same family for 125 years and pretty much unchanged. No pumps of course, there's a typed menu of the half-dozen beers they have and the barmaid disappears into the cellar before returning with foaming mugs. Mugs it is too, dimpled glasses with handles are the default.

The decor is ancient. There's some threadbare, translucent, nay, transparent Union Flag bunting hanging above our heads. "That's from the coronation" our barmaid informs us. "No, not the Queen, the King, Edward", "No, not the one who abdicated, the proper one who got crowned". Hmm, by my reckoning this bunting dates to 1902!

It's quiet so host offers us a tour of the malting room, the pub's community room for events, weddings, music etc. We're led behind the bar, through the beer cellar, past another small room and on into the malting. Looking at the height and the obvious evidence of a previous floor just above head height, the name is not a misnomer. The pub really did used to produce its own malt. Now, it is an eclectic meeting room with comfy seating sourced over the last century or so

The pub is sufficiently famous that back in 1998 the Queen herself visited. I love the story that the Queen purportedly said to Caroline (the landlady) "Thank you for inviting me to your wonderful home, you must come and see mine". And so Caroline was invited to Buckingham Palace. And then in 2008 they offered the Royals a case of a special beer brewed to celebrate 111 years of the pub within the family; not only was the offer accepted but Caroline found herself in the Palace invitee list once again.

Sadly the pub keeps to its 1912 opening hours and closes at 2 so we must wend our way into town. The rain hasn't abated - so there goes our proposed walk along the harbour and onto the RSVP reserve. We're cold and wet so stop at The Globe, a large hotel with a good, warming fire, but non-description St. Austell beer. Still we warm ourselves by the fire over a slow pint.

It's still slashing it down. What else is there to do but find another pub. This time The Exeter Arms. What a welcome, the landlord insists we taste all 4 beers on handpump and then comes and chats about the really interesting St Austell special small batch brews (one of which I'm drinking). During the course of conversation we mention we started the day at The Portsmouth Arms and, it turns out he and Andy are old friends so we have best wishes to pass on.

It's still raining but now it's train time. At the station in plenty of time - to find our train is cancelled. This might be serious. Portsmouth Arms is not only a request station but most trains aren't scheduled to stop there even when requested. Hence us needing the lift to Umberleigh this morning. This cancelled train is our last train home! Phone the help line. No problem, a taxi will take us home, we need to stand by the station main entrance. Bu**er that for a game of soldiers, it's still slashing down. Well wait under the shelter and watch out.

30 minutes pass, no taxi. On the blower again. Was told taxi came, didn't see us and went away again. But no problem, the next train in 30 minutes time passes Portsmouth Arms station (they all do on this line) and despite not being scheduled to stop would do so just for us! To be honest, I'd expected this sensible solution rather than a taxi when I rang previously.

We were still a little apprehensive but, lo and behold, it halted at Portsmouth Arms just for the 2 of us and we got a cheery wave from both guard and driver. The cancellation was annoying but we can't fault GWR's service.

So, wet and bedraggled, but armed with greetings and tales of an adventure we returned to the Portsmouth Arms (pub not station, this time) and slowly warmed up. A lot of beer today, but nothing else to do. In fact conversation back on the train was very much geared to whether we should cut the holiday short and return home to the warm and dry. Shelling out good money on a campsite just to spend dreary days in freezing rain and hail just doesn't seem a good use of our meagre funds.

No, one last throw of the dice, if we can get in campsite at Plymouth we'll have a few days there. At least there's museums, shops and a gin distillery!

No fixed plan apart from to avoid the cold and wet/hail. So a slow morning getting off-site. Liz manages to snap the pair of dippers on the river, and bidding the warden farewell she informs me that otters have also been spotted. Sadly not by us though.

Meander across the Barnstaple. Mooch round the shops, nip into the pannier market to avoid the hail. Excellent afternoon coffee at a traditional tea shop. You know, china cups on not quite matching saucers. Wonderful cake though. Tescos and Lidl. Boring.

#1 choice of stop is a small village pup not far from Bideford. We get close but access roads are narrow, "Not suitable for HGVs", we decide to take the easy option and Plan B, the Portsmouth Arms at a little hamlet called, er, Portsmouth Arms.

15th century coaching Inn, and in the Good Beer Guide (how did I miss that?). Very chatty landlord and landlady, great food and excellent beers (Otter, Hanlons, Quantock). Comfy leather settee in front of a log fire. A totally chilling evening.

There's a station just a hundred yards away but not many trains stop. We mention we have no plans for the next day or so, so landlord offers to drive us to the nearest station in the morning where trains will stop and we can get the train back that stops outside the pub tomorrow evening. So it looks like a pub crawl to Topsham tomorrow. Got to take these offers of kindness when they pop up.

Here's today's journey

It's warm here! In bed that is, it's freezing outside. So we don't get out of bed until 11! To be fair we were asleep until gone 10. We may not have walked far yesterday but it was hard work.

Skulked around in the van doing craft things whilst the cold rain persisted outside. Eventually we braved the elements and walked into town. And missed the rain. The Lymouth museum provided perfect shelter when it inevitably came. Interesting little town museum, the highlights for me being the poignant memorial to the 1952 Lymouth flood when 39 died and many properties were simply washed away and the soul-lifting tale of derring-do when in 1899 the Lymouth lifeboat was taken overland to Porlock. Unable to launch and go round the coast to the aid of a sicken ship off Porlock the crew and volunteers hauled the boat overland. Any knowledge of the terrain around here and you'd realise what a feat that was. From sea level at Lymouth to the height of the Empire State Building on the moor above Porlock, before descending the incredibly steep drop into the town itself, the heaviest object ever to descend Porlock Hill at the time. Gate posts were uprooted, trees dawn down and even a garden wall demolished to make enough room to get the boat through. All night, in the cold and rain with no break for food. An incredible feat indeed!

All the coffee shops in town were closed or closing so a swift pint had to suffice before back to the van for dinner and then or last couple of pints of Fat Belly Brewery ales.

Let's hope the weather stays to improve!

Well, the weather's turned. Let's face it, it was cold and 'orrible yesterday, today is just colder and 'orribler (and haily).

Have been introduced to God's timpani section during the night where the hail beat upon the van with a syncopation to make Buddy Rich envious, it set the mood for the day.

A late start, beneath the quilts, enveloped in a sleeping bag is a damned sight warmer than the reality of the van, even at 10am!

But a walk beckons; it's about 2.8 miles round the hill (and a similar distance back) to Watersmeet, a spot of sufficient beauty that the NT have a tearoom there. So, waterproof coats, waterproof trousers, waking socks, wooly hats and let's go for it!

Hmm, the OS maps on the phone suggest a long but gentle crossing of the contours until about half way up the hill when it levels out. OK so my map reading is rubbish, it's uphill all the way to the top, some 450' or so above the van! It's a long slog but the exercise combats the wind's chill and the views (when they come) are worth it.

Did I mention the hail. The uphill slog is good exercise but the hail reduces the fun! We reach the top, and it's all downhill from here. We consult the map. It's still a mile and a half to Watersmeet but now on the relative flat. However, it appears to be a very steep descent and the hail will have made the rocks slick. Prudence rules, we'll take the alternate route across the field (the only uphill option, mind!) and the gentler descent back to the van.

A wise choice, it's slippy, terrain Liz particularly dislikes but even I'm slip-sliding away like a good 'un. A fall up here definitely means a helicopter ride! We pick, slide, ease our way down, slowly. Two and a half hours waking, two and a half miles. Exhausting uphill, scary downhill.

Back at the bottom, there's the pub. Rats it's shut! So a quiet afternoon catching up with blogging, reading, knitting etc. in the van. Wrapped in blankets of course.

Warm coats tonight, the pub is also a Thai restaurant. At last the anniversary meal.

And the beer. Gary the brewer hadn't put a foot wrong IMHO, the bitter and IPAs are good, the keg lager better than most, the strong 7.4% IPA powerful and fruity but clean and drinkable. And when I finish this I can end the evening with another stout.

Remember the Joni Mitchell song, For Free? Well Fatbelly Beers aren't free but they ought be up there in consideration for the top brewery prizes, despite the fact that no-one has heard of them!

A pair of dippers flash past the van door. How's that for a start to the day! Pay the warden and get the local info - although we have the walk into town sussed after last night's pub visit and going into town is a must - we want to ride the Cliff Railway. The world's longest solely water-powered funicular.

Another possibility in town is the matinee of the film "Fishermen's Friends". We mention this at reception and get the offer of a lift into town tonight if we want to take in the evening performance

So off we trot. The barman told us the road opposite would turn into a paved walkway and terminate in town at The Crown pub. What he neglected to tell us was that rope b and crampons were necessary for the first and last parts! The trotting rapidly turns into wheezing as we stop start or way up the slope.

Now my back is out, walking is a struggle, hill-climbing doubly so. It's a relief to descend the slope into town (although abseiling would have been a distinct possibility) and wander into the hospice shop at the foot of the hill. A contender for the world's largest charity shop, much of possible interest to me involved bending, a piece of body origami currently denied me, so we left with nought.

The funicular was as steep and long as anticipated and fun to tick off another one - the third in the UK for us, the sixth in Europe and the 7th in the world for me (Liz didn't get chance to ride any in Valparaiso)

Lynton at the top turns into Lymouth at the bottom. A small seaside town with little to see. I'm hobbling like a good 'un with this back so the detour to the Madrigal brewery to discover it closed didn't improve my humour. Still the Exmoor Visitor Centre have us somewhere or of the wind for a few minutes before the return trip on the funicular.

Decision time, will my back allow us the luxury of following the footpath that hugs the cliff along to The Valley Of The Rocks or should we just go back - we've just missed the film matinee. Sod it! there's always air ambulance if I seize up. A steep descent and we in the cliff path where, mirabulus Deus, my back starts to free up. At one stage I walked over 200 metres without a spasm. I'm not just waking, I'm striding out! The occasional spasm puts me back in my place but we'll make it. And a lonely walk it is too, the sun's come out, it's so warm coats come off - amazing given how cold we've been all morning.

A few tourists at The Valley Of The Rocks but it looks like all but us have driven. We feel good. Then my back puts my in my place by spasming about every 20m. It's a very Jack Douglas walk back into town!

I think we need a pint in The Crown before tackling that hill back to the campsite.

Tea in the van and I'm beginning to regret not keeping beer or wine in stock, and the pub's shut on a Monday. Just about to sit down to eat and the man offering us a lift checks if we'd like to go. Lovely gesture but we need food

Amazingly we've clocked over 1600 steps today - 7 miles, with a back that I thought might not even allow me the luxury of going into town. Finishing The I cryptic crossword puts the icing on the cake of a good day!

Travelling day. The bus goes out past the pub to Chagford. We check the map and there's no obvious route in the maze of twisty white roads. Fearing getting sucked in to an ever narrowing eel-tap, we opt for going in the opposite direction, back towards Exeter. Liz, once again, demonstrates her navigational prowess, threading us through a housing estate and over the river via a suburban bridge, avoiding the road works in Exeter's main crossing.

Passing three breweries (Exeter, Hanlons and The Beer Engine) as well as Sandford Orchards cider we pull into Tescos, Crediton. Say what you like about Tescos, they usually have clean loos!

In Crediton we ought swing by and see if Meeple's Corner games store is open. But the cold is bitter in this must. Shame.

Across Exmoor, a swift half pint and loo break in Exbridge. Stunning views, or would be without the mist. Take the seafront route through Minehead, not changed since we took the kids to Butlins some 30 years ago.

Now as you get to the bottom of Porlock Hill there's a notice telling caravans etc. to take the scenic toll route. That's what I'd intended, had the sign been visible just before it was possible to miss the turn. So trundle up the infamous 1 in 4 hill. No problem

Arriving at Lymouth we do see the sign, 1 in 4 hill to Lynton or detour round past Watersmeet where the road is a gentle 1 in 6. Detour it is and on the hairpin of the steepest part of the climb a car coming downhill obviously hasn't heeded the low gear signs and is a tad wide into the bend. I don't appreciate the first gear hillstart it necessitates!

Still the campsite is nice. Today's picture is the view pretty much from the van window!
And there's a pub. And it has its own brewery! Good too, the IPA and bitter were decent enough but its nitro-keg stout is the best example of an Irish Stout this side of the Irish Sea! I have a second!

So, thanks to the pub we can leave the van and catch the bus into Exeter. First question "Where's the bus stop?". It's a narrow road but in front of the house opposite the pub (the nice thatch I photographed yesterday) it widens slightly. "Yes, that's the place" we are assured despite the distinct lack of bus stop sign. Still it does have a rather splendid Victorian postbox

And it's on the Trafalgar Way

And it's a very peaceful hamlet.

Bus coming, arm out, bus stops. We board and our bus passes are accepted but still the driver asks "Where to". Wonder why? No good asking us really, we don't know, so I just mutter "town" which seems to suffice.

Town, of course, means Exeter. And Exeter, of course, means the cathedral.

Mind you the cathedral was not a place for silent contemplation, not today anyway. There was a large brass band with impressive timpani section rehearsing for a concert tonight. They would have been loud in any setting but the cathedral's fabulous acoustics made a natural amplifier. Those drums were LOUD!

Anyway, no cathedral visit is complete without some random snapshots:

No, that last photograph was not taken in the Gents, they are rather magnificent, and rather large, organ pipes.

Cake and coffee in the cathedral coffee shop and on down to The Quays, a revitalised part of the city with bijou shops and trendy bars. And very pleasant it was too, sauntering along Exeter's finest boulevards in the glorious March sunshine. Liz has some pictures, mine didn't work and I need a longer lens for the wildlife, although this magnificent beast posed nicely

Back into town for a quick mooch around the local shops and a couple of charity shops. Enough time for me to put my back out and be hobbling like an old man for a while. Still it meant we needed to sit. The first bar was disappointing. No, not the beers but it was a Bristol Beer Factory takeover and so nothing local on tap. Still my back obliged and 40 mins later we were forced into another bar to rest and relax. This time it was a Fat Pig pub, a brewery new to me. And not a bad half (yes, half!) of Nelson's IPA either.

Back for cheap food in the Royal Oak. Two meals, two (large) desserts. 2 pints (me), 2 halves (Liz) and still change or of £30. You can't complain at that can you? The people we meet last night wanted to know about our day and compared it with theirs, painting the fence. It really is that sort of pub.

Any campervan friends, the Royal Oak, Nadderwater is definitely recommended for good pub grub, lonely people and easy access to a Exeter.

Day 1 is driving day. Or, since this is England, driving for a bit, sitting in a traffic jam for a bit, repeated.

Still not too bad. An 11:15 start, closest we've been to our "I want to be on the road by 11" yet. 112 miles, over an hour an a half mooching around Bridport, another 45 minutes in Honiton, right through central Exeter in Friday rush hour and still at the pub just after 5:30. Not bad at all.

Bridport is nice. Lots of little shops, lots of charity shops, expensive though. Still we found a game and book for grand-daughter, a game and DVD for her grand-dad and her nana found knitting needles, wool and a book. Oh, and fantastic data and ginger scones from one baker and excellent, contenders for the world's largest, sausage rolls at the other.

Honiton wasn't quite so bountiful or exciting, but perhaps that's unfair, we didn't get the until nearly 4 so were always a bit time challenged.

The pub: The Royal Oak at Nadderwater. No real ale, shock, horror! Yet I still wholeheartedly recommend it, even more shock, horror. Lovely, lovely people, campervan friendly, excellent basic cheap pub grub and decent keg cider and bottled beers from the local Branscombe brewery.

£4.95 for a couple of generous wedges of gammon ham, egg and chips. £7.50 gets you that plus dessert of the day. Good too. Friday night is steak night, 2 8 ouncers for £15. Guy next to me has this for himself! Mind you we was a farrier so probably burns and sweats that off pretty quickly.

Oh, I knew he was a farrier because this was the sort of pub where the locals chat. Even to wayfaring strangers. We mentioned we were going into Exeter tomorrow and would return again if OK and was told just to leave the van in their car park and taken bus into town, easier and cheaper.

We like the Royal Oak at Nadderwater

Here's today's map:

Sometimes, just sometimes the gods smile on you! Today was such a day.

Moving on but in no real rush to get down to the next campsite at Rhayader we decided to pub stop for a night. Many options but the Greyhound pub in the tiny village of Llangunilo, in Welsh border country had good beer and Liz found a very positive comment on the web. So let's give that a go, but with a plan B just in case.

news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/wales/mid/7404785.stm?

Springsteen
Sultans of a swing
Dixie washboard
Stereophonics
Folsom prison
Whistle & spoons
Speedgums
Keith
The Captain
Paul & Jacki