So many mixed emotions on this, the last day of our 2026 adventure.
It’s a politely early start to the airport, no thought to our usual train journey – the bags are so heavy it takes two to lift them into the large car our concierge has so thoughtfully booked. If I never have to pack a bag again it will be much too soon. Breath is held until we pass the airport weight test, never being quite sure how accurate our little scale is. Phew – it’s close. We’re through official checks in no time too, international travel has become most efficient in recent years.
All that’s left to do is assess how I feel. And that’s a complex question. Without doubt and despite the mechanical challenges of recent years, Europe and by extension, the motorhome, is my happy place. It’s where I’ve always felt at home.
I’ve wondered many a trip, why we just don’t move. Language is only a short term barrier, career no long ties either of us and Lord knows we love the lifestyle. Friends and family would be delighted to have a welcoming European holiday destination, I’m sure. It’s a question that remains unanswered. It’s not that I don’t love Australia, it’s just that I love Europe more. It lives in my bones and sings through my blood in way my adopted country cannot.
We’ve done some incredible things in the motorhome since 2013, driving, 90,000 kilometres across 25 countries, visiting close to 1,300 villages, towns, cities and regions. My Google Photos timeline is awash with pink dots lining our way. We’ve walked in the footsteps of kings and queens, revolutionaries, farmers and landed gentry. We’ve seen creatures galore, always my favourite moments. It’s been magnificent – I wouldn’t trade a second of it. Even the times the motorhome failed us and all I wanted to do was lay my head down and sob uncontrollably.
Would I do it all again? In a heartbeat. If the decision was mine to make alone, I’d trade the motorhome for a new one and take off to all the countries we didn’t get a chance to see. And quite possibly re visit all the ones we did.
We started this year’s journey with two motorhomes. We end it with none. The Australian one was sold shortly after our departure and regular readers will know how the European version ended. Still feeling some guilt there. Having been lovingly cared for indoors since purchase, our poor motorhome must be wondering why she’s been left outside in a garage far from home. I’m so sorry old girl.
What our travelling future will bring is anyone’s guess. Another Australian motorhome? Possibly. Possibly not. Certainly more travel in a different mode – cruising perhaps, or rail, the places we didn’t get to, or even a true ‘holiday’ lounging by a pool. There are iconic trips that will definitely happen: Antarctica (or perhaps the Artic), an African adventure, the northern lights. Europe under snow, a sight I’ve not seen since childhood – it’s captivated me ever since. All I can say is watch this space – I’ll do my best to document it.
In the meantime, thank you to everyone who’s followed our adventures via the blog, especially those to reach out to comment. It’s always heartwarming to hear your voices and to know you’re travelling by our side. The interweb elves tell me that my little blog has been read by 50,000 people from all over the world. A figure that seems impossible from the tiny emailed version I first started. I have Himself to thank for putting the idea in my head, even if it was in the interests of self preservation. He feared I would drive him mad if not kept suitably busy. He was right of course – I have a busy mind which can become a little squirrelly if left idle. I’m so glad I wrote about our adventures. Reading back old posts puts me firmly back in that day in a way photography alone does not. In hindsight, I regret not documenting 2025’s challenging trip. Always 20/20, hindsight.
Himself has to be thanked for his part of course. His utterly skilled and fearless driving has taken us from Europe’s top to bottom, across every mountain range, ferry, tunnel, busy city and country lane in between. He well and truly earned his Fearless nickname.
I hope I’ve spurred some of my armchair travelers into action. If you’re contemplating it still, I implore you, just go. Whether you’re taking organised tours, buying a motorhome, intrepidly making your way without or even with plans, opting for sheer luxury or taking just your youthful charm and a backpack. Just go. You’ll be challenged. You’ll be inspired. You’ll fall in love. You’ll never regret it. I didn’t start travelling seriously until I turned 40. I wish I’d started decades earlier. I’ve learnt more since then than I ever did in any educational or corporate setting. I hope to learn more.
And as we fly home, all that’s left dear friends is to wish you farewell. So from Himself, Squizz and me, it’s goodbye until next time.
PS: Squizz has a girlfriend – Peanut. You didn’t think I’d him be lonely, did you? She and Flopsy are bumping along nicely.
