Herefordshire Interactive Map

Herefordshire Interactive Map

With Covid keeping us grounded for the moment, we have had the opportunity to explore the area right beneath our noses.  Herefordshire is a stunning region; home of cider, stunning countryside, Areas of outstanding natural beauty and a river that meanders from its source at Plynlimon, Wales to Chepstow.  There is just so much to uncover.

We continue to be humbled by how your local area can offer so much and yet with it on your doorstep it is often the least likely place to explore. There’s some sort of psychology that says an exploration has to be far afield. Not so, as we show you in our latest Interactive Map. We’ve stretched the boundaries a little beyond just Herefordshire, although all within an easy circumference. We hope that if you are ever passing you take the  time to stop and explore this little pocket rocket county which has so much to offer. 

Check out our Interactive route map below.

Step inside Herefordshire and come with us as we explore various points of the River Wye, find unique medieval treasures, castles, fabulous walks and Areas of outstanding natural beauty. Symonds Yat, Ross on Wye, Hereford, Hay on Wye, Crickhowell, Tintern Abbey to name just a few temptresses. As our travel is twarthed beyond the Channel, perhaps the UK can offer us some alternative beauty to appreciate. Click on our gallery below for a bit of a visual teaser. 

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Morocco in Pictures

Morocco in Pictures

We were so inspired by Morocco; its landscape, people’s spirits and culture that it brought my imagination alive and my camera’s heart beat faster than ever before. So as we compiled our Morocco by Motorhome ebook, it felt appropriate to put together just one album of all our favourite images from our month there is February 2020. I took hundreds of images and I really wanted to showcase them in one special place.

We hope you enjoy our tour of Morocco through my camera’s lens.

Click on the image below. You may need to wait a few moments whilst it loads due to the megaloads of pictures I couldn’t resist including. Although if you experience any difficulties viewing it on any device, then click here.

Life in Lockdown – Life in Micro

Life in Lockdown – Life in Micro

As we shut the door after our epic journey from southern Spain, the echo of Boris’ lockdown message rang in our ears. Within hours we had managed to secure our safety for the next three months at least. Relief washed over us like a cascading waterfall and the intensity of the situation was almost overwhelming.

Whilst we had little to make the house a home, we have learnt to live more simply.  This is one of our biggest travel lessons. The simplicity that has graced our lives has had an immense impact on us both, although me particularly. It still shocks me to see the amount of ‘stuff’ stored in our lockup. Did we really need all those things to be happy? Well we soon learnt that happiness doesn’t lie within the fabric of a house, a bread-maker or a set of pictures. It comes from inside of us, when we align with our most important values; freedom, choice and simplicity.

As we transferred our bits and pieces from Scoobie, who sat snugly on the driveway we set out to create our comfort zone. The last three weeks had been fringed with a nervous static that, in our high alert status, neither of us had really appreciated. Combining that static with relief – wow what partnership that was. It felt like the colliding of the seas we witnessed in Grenen in Denmark last year. Neither one winning the battle, although tempestuous waters none the less.

Yet that night in March saw the flood-gates open; so often what happens when our flight and fight reactions surrender to the safety of our secure ground. No more looking over our shoulders, no more tension or uncertainty about whether we would make it back in time. We were in our own little bubble. Close enough to my mum to support her from a distance and yet in a haven of safety, the price of which is hard to estimate. In our four years on the road, we have rarely felt threatened. We’ve had a few unnerving moments, although nothing to really make our hackles rise. Yet now with this invisible enemy, the presence of which hangs in the air, we were definitely feeling a tightening of the strings. So having somewhere safe to be was really priceless. We knew intuitively that this is where we were meant to be – for however long was needed. We could ride out the storm here.

With relief making itself at home, we were free to work out how we were going to structure our lockdown experience. We developed a strategy to support mum and her partner with the things that they needed most and we set about fine tuning our daily routines. A lie in, some work, a freshly made juice and a walk at 3.00pm for an hour. Although more pressing was the urgency for some creature comforts like some cosy chairs to sit on and a fridge/freezer. 

Sadly Scoobie’s slopey position meant that our fridge/freezer no longer worked, so we had to quickly resolve this before I lost all my freshly purchased provisions. To my amazement I really struggled to find anything suitable. Who would have thought that there would have been not only a lack of toilet rolls, also white goods? There wasn’t a  fridge freezer to be found anywhere. So as luck would have it we were  recommended an online firm that could help us. A mini fridge was secured and within 24hrs had arrived. And just in time as my freezer compartment had started to melt. Three days later, with all the excitement of a puppy, our chairs turned up in two surprisingly small boxes. As we opened the two cardboard presents, Myles first reaction was – ‘Where are the legs?’ Alas there were no legs! Oh my how we laughed, no wonder the price was so reasonable. Legs would clearly have been another £100 at least! So you can imagine how toned our leg muscles are now, as we raise ourselves from these floor level seats. 

Life in Lockdown once the practical stuff had been sorted, became a life in micro. Blessed with the best spring weather since 1897, we nourished ourselves in the sunshine on Scoobie’s deckchairs and watched the starlings go about their nesting business. I never realised how their songs could replicate that of a buzzard to ward off predators although also, more disconcertedly, the sound of an ambulance. Quite what survival method that offers I’m not sure. And when I close my eyes, I can almost imagine that their song is that of a golden oriel, transporting me to the heady heights of Greece or Bulgaria. 

We watched each day as the skies cleared from the fumes of airplanes and tuned into how the cacophony from the orchestral dawn chorus seemed somehow more noticeable. Spring felt like such a wonderful season to be forced to be still. Whist of course being static would not be a choice to the rolling wheels of our nomadic chariot, being in one place for long enough to watch spring unfold has been a complete blessing.  To see how the blossom ruled the trees and watch their leaves slowly unfurl, given the forest’s new shapes and textures.  Nature has truly been a privilege to witness from such a micro perspective. There are indeed some silver linings to the lockdown.

As the days morphed into weeks, we found our groove. Our fortnightly shopping expeditions became an art. Despite each visit delivering a drama (lost car keys, smashed wine bottles and a puncture), we managed to navigate our entry into the unsafe zone with the deftness of a gazelle. Our diving into Aldis once a fortnight had a strategy so finely tuned that Field Marshal Montgomery would have been proud. A trolley each, one for us and one for our family, we dashed through the store respecting our 2m distances reducing our shopping from a mooch to more of a Supermarket Dash feel about it.

Back in the safety of our home, we slowly saw our creativity being boosted to new heights. Thanks to Mother Nature, in our kitchen, foraged efforts have been converted into fresh and nutritious offerings; nettle soup and quiche, spinach and potato soup when we had a glut of both, dandelion massage oils, dandelion honey and elderflower cordial. With limited resources, we’ve developed a more resourceful mindset as we found baking cakes an interesting experience; no scales for weighing flour has tested us, no electric whisk to mix the batter and outside in the garden, with no edge trimmers Myles has been on his knees with scissors! Although we can always get by with a dose of ingenuity and creativity. 

Although on the shadow side, seeing my mum struggle with her self-isolating was heart-breaking. The whole mental health issue is going to have the biggest impact, second to the tragedy of the deaths, of course. And this inspired me to focus on supporting like-minded souls who were struggling with lockdowns in Europe and back on home turf. So my Lockdown routines focused on putting my energy into creating some useful resources to ease people’s boredom, stay healthy and fit and connected. It’s always good to have somewhere to put your energy – more time on that meant less time thinking about the future.

So many people have asked us, as nomads for the last four years, how we are feeling being grounded. And interestingly another thing that travel has taught us is to live in the moment. This practical strategy has served us well during lockdown, given that it would be so easy for us to lament over our road trip to Turkey planned for May this year.  There is little point thinking ahead to what may or may not be; as things are changing so quickly. The media is doing its best to add fear, uncertainty and doubt, although we don’t subscribe to their mass hysteria. We choose instead to accept graciously where we are; feel grateful for the home we have and focus on doing positive things during this period of stillness. We are determined to travel again, whenever it is safe to do so and we will don our travel shoes to tread upon new soil. Our desire to explore still beats like a well-oiled heart. Although for now, we are safe, secure and still and this is how it is.

Coming next; managing the Bubble Burst as we move into easing measures of lockdown.

 

Other blogs in our Lockdown series

 

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Covid-19 – Our Journey through the Chaos – Part 2

Covid-19 – Our Journey through the Chaos – Part 2

After a dash north from the fringes of Morocco in March, we finally arrived on UK soil, heading for a period of rest and quarantine – or so we thought.

 

After our race against what felt like time and tide, the idea of being stationary for two weeks was a blissful concept. Yet landing back in UK was a double-edged sword. Whilst it was good to be back on home turf during uncertain times, we had to sail past my bestie, because we were in quarantine. There was no reassuring hug with my mum, there was no care-free relaxing with peace by our sides. Ambiguity was our only friend, an unwanted companion that hung in the air like a city smog, making its presence felt as it swirled between the trees of our New Forest Sanctuary.

It was an odd twist of fate, that I chose Setthorns Campsite as our quarantine retreat. It held so many hallmarks from my childhood. A campsite deep in the forest that brought me close to my family even though they were not there. With my dad in the heavens above and my mum way beyond arms reach, I was left with the memories of my youthful games amongst the trees. I have a sneaky feeling that we even parked up across from one of the pitches we used to stay on, during our weekends away.  It felt nurturing to be in a place where I had happily played as a child, and to feel close to my mum and dad. My inner child craved to be nurtured and embraced, yet she had all grown up and needed to find her own way in this crazy, new world.

The animals offered us some familiar comfort; we were surrounded by deer, squirrels, nuthatches and wild ponies. Each one seemingly oblivious to our plight and yet bizarrely soothing in the simplicity of their tamed presence. How odd to see nature’s heart beating to the exact same rhythm, whilst ours had gone off-the-wall. Someone was laughing on the other side of somewhere, at this strange situation, not of our making. 

See our gallery of Mother Nature’s canvas by clicking below;

As we surrendered to our quarantine and immersed ourselves into the peace of the forest, a lurking air of suspicion wafted around our bodies. A sensation that whispered, “You must not yet rest on your laurels”. We knew intuitively that the art we had mysteriously mastered of being one step ahead, was needed once more. And after a deeply connecting conversation about how a Covid future might look, we knew that our stillness needed a gentle prod. We needed to stir our resting souls and again thrust ourselves into action, as that tsunami was nipping at our heels reminding us of its presence.

It felt as if something big was going to happen soon in UK, having seen our European cousins all take evasive action against the demon of death. And so for us, there were no real surprises about the Government’s course – it was all a matter of timing. We had second guessed their policy and we were, once again, just about ahead of the game, albeit by a whisker.

Pubs, clubs and restaurants closed on that Friday night and we knew in our hearts that we must look for somewhere more long-term to stay. We have always considered ourselves houseless not homeless, although with a situation as grave as this, with the threat of campsites potentially closing, we knew we needed something more permanent to keep us safe.

Given my mum’s precarious balance on this Covid tightrope, we had to find somewhere close to her so we could support her. So we secured a near-by campsite that would shelter us, even given the worst case scenario. We had a fall-back of a house we were selling that was empty, although this was 30 miles away from mum and with no car – we contemplated the enormity of the situation. We had, we reckoned a few days to perhaps buy a car and reach our sanctuary position before the doors shut completely. And then, Sunday morning the dreaded news came. Campsites across the country became the latest victim to fall to the devil’s imposing stench.

Whilst not wanting to sound dramatic, there was a dawning – for me at least, that suddenly our security was at peril. Whilst the campsite had offered us a place to be safe, our ‘what if questions’ filled our heads. We knew in our hearts, however kind their offer to stay was, if they were inspected and we had to be evicted, we had no alternative. The tsunami was closer than ever to our wheels and our primal need for safety and security drove us into a battle strategy action to protect ourselves, first and foremost. We were reminded of the safety demonstration on board a plane, where you are instructed, in an emergency, to place your own oxygen mask before helping others. This was what we now needed to do.

In my corporate leadership training days, I often used the analogy of ‘thinking outside the box’. How apt was that advice right now? And despite the potential of this situation I am always amazed at just how resilient our primal being is. It kicks in without being asked; it just takes over and moves you into that sympathetic nervous system of fight, flight or freeze. My thoughts were as crystal clear as a highly polished diamond, my problem-solving as sharp as a sabre blade. With the precision of a chemist’s measure, my mind considered all the possibilities for us to stay safe and be close to mum; and within five minutes a solution emerged, thanks to the brilliance of one of our followers. A mere ten minutes later, we had the prospect of a rental property that had, in the last four days become empty. We spoke to the lovely landlords, explored options, agreed terms and secured a three month tenancy with a rolling month thereafter. Boom! I just love how the strands of synchronicity weave their web and conspire to create your destined next steps.

The very next morning, we launched into Phase 2, as despite having a place to go, we still had some critical actions to tick off our list and with precious little time to do it. It felt as if we were in a Hollywood movie, where impending doom was shadowing the earth and everyone was scattering like ants. Although paradoxically, we also felt as if we were one step ahead of the game, given our European escape. We had seen first-hand how quickly the world could change and, in many ways, we could see those around us almost oblivious to what we knew instinctively was coming soon! Real soon.

So with focus in our eyes and determination in our hearts we headed north; our lockup was our first call. A need to pick up some furniture as we had none in our new four walls. Reacquainted with our familiar yellow door, we retrieved a few bits that would give us some creature comforts. The beauty of our travel experiences over the last four years, is that we don’t need much – our surrender to simplicity was certainly going to pay dividends in this war against an unknown enemy. Doing a last supermarket shop was like walking through a set for an Apocalypse film as empty shelves and and just a handful of  desperate shoppers, took whatever they could to feed their families. It was a surreal experience. I’ve never seen a store so eerily devoid of people or food. Still, we managed to get what we needed and armed with supplies, a bed, our favourite rug we arrived at our new home. Scoobie snuggly fitted onto the drive within an inch of his life and with a huge sigh of relief we knew we were safe. Our lovely landlords welcomed us with open arms and we embraced the effortless coincidence as we shut the door behind us.

At 4pm we set foot in our temporary home made of bricks, and at 8pm that very same day, Boris announced the UK’s version of lockdown.  A mere four hours grace! We sank into our bed that night with the biggest sense of gratitude and relief as the enormity of the last 72 hours became real. Our high alert state could finally rest and the waters that now lapped up against our walls could no longer consume us. We were safe, secure and protected, at least for the moment.

Our mission was complete. We had had won the second battle of this war and could now ease into a new way of being with bricks and mortar as our protective walls. We drifted off into a deep sleep, immensely grateful to those who made our passage to safety so smooth. The kindness of strangers humbled us greatly and, as the following weeks would show, would continue to be a dominant feature of our fight against this invisible demon. For now we were safe; for now we could rest.

Virus 0 – The Motoroamers 2

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Covid-19 Our Journey through the chaos – Part 1

Covid-19 Our Journey through the chaos – Part 1

 

Like each person on earth – our reflections of 2020 will be less about a “clarity or sharpness of vision” and more about how we navigated the Demon of Death – the Covid-19 virus. However positive we may be, the journey each of has and is taking will have a huge impact on the shape of our year, the outcome of which is still uncertain. Although we will find our new normal and this is only temporary. This series of blogs documents our personal journey through the virus crisis and shares our coping strategies and insights at the various stages of the chaos. 

 

Part 1 – Fleeing the Tsunami

 

As we danced in our little Moroccan bubble, we observed from the safety of our African adventure a world that seemed, for just a moment, to be going quite insane. And each day the rhythm of our life beat in tune to the desert drums, to the camels’ sultry pace and the crazy pace of chaos that seems to work in Morocco. There was, in truth, very little focus on the virus as our explorations were filling us with joy and happiness, far removed from the grip of a demon killer.

When the security of that bubble encasing you bursts, there’s a moment of waking up. A realisation that actually there is something bigger going on; something that over-rides the media’s frenzy and the encircling conspiracy theories that awash our social media. There was a truth that we had to face because its shadow was peaking through our window.

As we landed on Spanish soil, we crashed to the floor of that truth, with a ceiling that was sinking. 

There’s nothing like a drama that brushes against your skin, making its presence felt with the stench of its stale odour to bring you down to earth. The onset of the sore throat was where fear overtook every cell of my body. Ignorance is one thing, even denial can be forgiven, although that moment where you wake up and acknowledge that this crisis is personal is poignant. The fever came next and then the cough – although my research told me that this wasn’t our Covid-19 demon – it was something else. May be it was camel flu, although it felt like a stark warning to open my eyes to the reality sweeping the globe. In a heart-beat life went from high adventure to high alert, added to with a sprinkling of primal fear. All the ingredients for a dish served with mortality.

Then my mum called to say that a friend she had been in contact with had the suspected symptoms and so self-isolation was imperative for her. And with an underlying immune deficiency disorder, emotions ran high as the tide ebbed and flowed around our bobbing boat upon the ocean of uncertainty.

The pace of life took a different gear from that moment on. The leisurely meander of the last month soon feeling like an all-too-distant memory as reality grabbed us by the throat and started to squeeze, ever so gently. And as our breath shortened and became shallow, our mind began to construct images from which nightmares are made and our primal instincts took over our usually calm personas.

My mum says that 

“Every decision you make is the right one, because you made it”. 

Yet it is indecision that is the thief of happiness. Anxiety and uncertainty jostle for position as they compete on the playground of concern as we battled our way through options, consequences and impacts. And yet there is somewhere deep in side the heart, perhaps even in the gut where the answer lurks, ready to present itself as soon as we emerge from our denial and avoidance.

A choice made, a conclusion drawn and action applied – we were off! In what felt like a race northwards, we had to get back to the UK to support and protect our loved ones. Whilst our return was only 3 weeks early, the decision to travel swiftly back to UK felt like an exodus from a safe haven into a forest of danger.

As borders closed and countries locked down, we ran a gauntlet with our tyres turning as fast as they could without harm. Morocco closed, Spain locked down, France a state of emergency. It was as if a tsunami was coursing its way towards us preparing to consume us if we didn’t stay one step ahead.

As we reflect on our 1000 miles in 3 days, our teamwork brought us to our sanctuary with speed, safety and efficiency. We felt as if we were running, escaping an inevitability that would shape how the drama would unfold for us and those we loved. Being stranded and not being close to family who were at risk was untenable and, driven by an adrenalin-fuelled desire to be in our ‘home country’, our return was secured.

Despite our decision to leave UK shores for European adventures in 2016, there’s nothing like the familiarity of home at a time of crisis to help you feel safe and drawn into the bosom of your motherland.

And so as we boarded the ferry, our sighs of relief were palpable and the strain from that last week evident in the furrows of our brows and the deepness of our breath. Now at last we could rest in our 14 day quarantine, knowing that we could find security in the UK and cast our own protective net around us and our family. For now we could allow the relief to wash over us like the warmth of a bath, the bubbles offering strange comfort as it lapped against our skin. For now this was home. For now we were safe. For now we could recharge our batteries and begin an effort to support others.

Virus 0 – The Motoroamers 1

 

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