Malibu
Malibu
For the last 30 minutes, he’s been explaining every advantage of the camper van he has for sale. We keep comparing it with the others we’ve already looked at. Not easy – they all seem more or less the same. Still, this one somehow feels different. The interior is nicer. It simply feels right.
A little later, we’re back from the test drive, convinced this is the one. Still, a few questions remain. Is the engine really in good shape? Is everything working? Will he give us the discount we’re hoping for? And where on earth are we going to park it once we get home?
Waiting outside the workshop is another couple, clearly interested in exactly the same van.
We head straight back to the salesman and tell him we’ll take it. Probably not the smartest negotiating tactic – but there isn’t much time to play games.
He takes his time with all our questions and puts our worries to rest. After signing and a modest upfront payment we know, Malibu is ours in a week – of course, we don’t get a discount.
And the couple? They got the message and have disappeared.
It was the strange time when COVID restrictions had turned life upside down. Many people discovered Netflix. Others rediscovered their relationships, or its end. And quite a few – us included – discovered van life.
So, in 2020 we got a second-hand Carthago Malibu van – not to replace Prado, but to complement it. Not one of these oversized, posh motorhomes you can only drive on highways. After adding some solar power, it’s a totally off-grid van – ready for road trips across Europe – and wherever a ferry might take us next.
Vanlife’s Vanishing Idyllic Night Stops
The few tourists arriving call it Orange Beach, the locals Paralia Kavourotripes. A small, paradise-like bay with turquoise water on the Greece’s Mani Peninsula. Just a small watering hole renting out some umbrellas at the beach. No fences, no plots, no grumpy campsite manager. Just a few camper vans scattered above the beach – free camping at its best.
Dinner is sizzling on the grill. We sip our beers and watch the calm surf below as daylight slowly fades. Some more beers and a dinner, later it´s time for sleep.
The next morning, coffee and slightly hard bread. The sea turns again into its turquoise glimmer. Yeah, we could stay for days. But we´re on the last days of our trip. The ferry back to Italy awaits us in a few days. A pity.
Obviously, you need a self-contained campervan to experience such places. Unfortunately, a small minority leaves rubbish behind or treats nature as their personal bathroom. Camping bans are the inevitable result, and places like this become harder to find every year. Maybe we´ve just been lucky that the police didn’t check Paralia Kavourotripes.
On Great Routes
Beautiful overnight stops are only one part of van life. The journey itself is just as rewarding. You can stop wherever you like, don’t need to plan ahead, and don’t have to adapt to hotel schedules – at least in theory.
We’re drinking coffee in the warmth of our diesel heater. Outside, as usual, it’s grey, cloudy, and barely 5°C. Not unusual weather in Arctic Norway. Still, these last 7 weeks have been much colder than we ever expected. No reason to get discouraged. We still love the rugged landscape of these lonely peninsulas stretching into the Norwegian Sea.
After a slightly underwhelming visit to the North Cape the day before yesterday, now we hope to see a bit more of authentic Norwegian Arctic on Nordkinn Peninsula.
We need two days to get there, with an overnight stop somewhere in the middle. By evening, the clouds finally disappear, and we enjoy the midnight sun from a peaceful campsite far away from everything.
The next day, it’s a beautiful drive along the coast – even if the weather changes again. In Meham we head for the campground. Well, not exactly what we had imagined -a mixture of fishing harbour, fishing-tour operator, and campground.
On to the Peninsula. Arriving at its northernmost point, we truly feel like we’ve reached the end of the world. Sparse Arctic vegetation surrounds us. Ahead, storm-lashed cliffs disappear into the Barents Sea. It almost feels as if the North Pole were just beyond the horizon. A lonely lighthouse and an abandoned fishing harbour complete the picture.
We’ve seen many beautiful places with Malibu already, but rarely have we felt so far away from everything.
Moments like these remind us why we love travelling this way. Unfortunately, they are becoming harder to find. Over-tourism, the hype on van life, and insufficient infrastructure combined with increasing prohibition of free camping are gradually changing the original spirit of van life.
Scenes from Life on a Few Square Meters
Van life is mostly freedom, simplicity, and a lot of fun. But living on just a few square meters isn’t always as idyllic as Instagram likes to suggest. Sometimes the rain just won’t stop. Sometimes we get on each other’s nerves. And sometimes we simply need a bed that doesn’t move every time one of us turns around.
But instead of telling you about it, let’s let the pictures speak.
We love van life, especially when the days are warm, the sun is shining, and the road disappears somewhere beyond the horizon. It’s not the only way we like to travel – but for exploring Europe at our own pace, it’s hard to beat.