OK so - what profound realisations did I gain while not working? What were the “Five Things Burnout Taught Me”, or “10 Reasons Why You Need a Sabbatical” - the listicles so beloved of my millennial generation.

Well, there are no neat conclusions tied up in a bow, because, no shit Sherlock, life isn’t like that. But here are some reflections:

• When working (and by work, I mean a corporate “office” job), you’re always thinking ahead. Meetings, deadlines, quarterly objectives, yearly reviews. You’re planning for the next month, 6 months, five years. I think this was the starkest difference for me. My brain had to totally reconfigure because in the van, we couldn’t plan beyond the next two hours. Everything was so in the moment - it had to be. Where would we fill up our water tank, did it need emptying? What were we eating for lunch? Did we need to do a food shop? And ever present, when and where would we go to the loo? (We had a composting toilet in the van but Caleb refused to use it…) It was a time of listening to our bodies and responding accordingly. While freeing in its way, it became exhausting. 

• We thought this sabbatical could be the jump off to an entirely different life, with vague dreams of doing up a dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere. You know, the Good Life that we’ve all fantasised about when stuck in an endless commute and faced with 1000 unread emails. The van was our test run. But turns out, we actually love London. Or rather, we love being in a cosmopolitan centre with the multitude of food, art, and culture that’s on offer. And most of all, being close to our friends, our community. The grass isn’t greener.

• If I’ve learnt anything, it’s that nothing goes to plan. If things do pan out the way you intended - amazing. Well done. Lucky you. But when they don’t - it’s ok. Everything will be ok. You’ll pivot, reassess, take a different path. I really hope I remember this, next time shit hits the fan. 

• Finally, the most important realisation: work is never going to be more important than life. Work can give you purpose, community, money, structure. All things which are, absolutely, vital for a life worth living. But the essence, the beauty of being alive, it’s not found at work. It’s tasting the salt in the sea air. Belly laughs with my best girlfriends, tumbled together on the sofa. Making my toddler nephew shriek with laughter. Singing loudly and badly, karaoke style, at home.

You don’t need a sabbatical to do these things. But, you do need to make space for these moments and not let work take over. Again - no shit Sherlock. But as I rejoin work and a job that I love, with the responsibilities and worries and accountabilities that come with, this bears repeating and holding close. 

And with that, Letters from Kokomo finishes! I have mightily enjoyed taking the time to write my (admittedly few) entries. Thank you for reading and travelling along with me.

Rewinding back a couple of weeks: Kokomo was fixed. We picked her up from the lovely garage in Lienz, Austria, with a brand new, very expensive engine. We’d spent the previous two weeks driving in a rental car from Venice, to Grado on the Adriatic coast, to Vienna via Ljubljana, staying in hotels, eating in restaurants, spending too much money. We were glad to have Kokomo back. We were tired of driving and planning where to go next. Next stop was supposed to be Croatia, and from there, exploring the Balkans. But - did I say we were tired? And for reasons too boring to go into, we no longer had our emergency insurance. And we were tired.

What’s the point of being on sabbatical if you’re tired and stressed, a lot of the time? It’s really, really hard to pursue the “vanlife” ideal in Europe, in high summer. You want to go to beautiful places and wake up in secluded nature. Instead you get height barriers, no overnight parking zones, no wild camping, anywhere, and your engine might break down. So we decided to head to my mum’s house in La Baule for a proper rest, with delicious food, my beautiful nephew, the sea, paddle boarding, and gorgeous weather. It’s been absolutely wonderful.

As you’d expect, with two months left, time appears different to me now. Not just because I’m approaching the end of my sabbatical, but because, well, I’m pregnant. Nothing like entering your second trimester to focus the mind. This baby is very much wanted and we are very, very happy - but obviously, priorities have shifted. Now, we spend a lot of time talking about boring things like maternity leave, mortgages, interest rates, cost of living. Will we stay in London or move outside? How are we going to live? Kokomo feels very far away.

It sometimes feels scary but I know we’ll be ok. Time is now a taut line - a tightrope I’m confident I’m not going to fall off. Since embarking on this sabbatical, in which nothing has gone to plan but it’s still been perfect because we’ve been together - we’re ready for the next chapter. And we can’t wait to meet our little one. 

We were on our way to the Grossglockner, Austria’s highest mountain, for more scenic hiking. On a steep hairpin turn, as Caleb shifted down, the van’s momentum disappeared. He went into first gear, we moved forward, he tried shifting back up into second -  total loss of power ensued with the oil warning light flashing red. Fuck. 

So off we went into this now familiar routine. Pull into a layby. Call our emergency insurance (for the third time). Wait for ages by the side of the road. Finally get picked up and towed to the nearest garage. Once there, the warning light had disappeared and Kokomo seemed fine. The very nice mechanic said, we’ll do a diagnostic to be sure, come back in an hour.

One hour later - “Bad news. Your engine is kaput. A new one will cost 7600 euros and best case, will be ready in 2 weeks.”

It’s funny how the mind works. It’s only really now that I’m writing about it, five days later, that I’m feeling aggrieved about all the bullshit we’ve gone through. In the moment, we went straight into action planning mode. We had two options - pay for the engine up front, spend two weeks travelling by rental car with hotels covered by the insurance, and then continue our Kokomo trip as planned. Or, get the van repatriated to the UK (again covered by the insurance), forget about it till November when we were both back working and could afford the engine, and, I don’t know, backpack around Costa Rica instead? 

We drew up travel options, budgets, costs, timelines. We stuck post-its all over our hotel wall. Although my emotions were strongly telling me to fuck this fucking van, logically we worked out it made more sense financially and time-wise, to get it fixed in Austria.

So that’s what we’re doing, chaps. We’re simultaneously in good spirits and feeling a high degree of travel fatigue. It’s great we have this insurance which is mostly covering our hotels - but it’s tiring choosing where to go and what to do. And with the spectre of our ever-decreasing funds hanging over us. 

But! We’re healthy and safe. We haven’t been in an accident, we haven’t needed to go to hospital. We haven’t been robbed. We’re together. I’m on sabbatical, I never know what day of the week it is. All these things are huge positives.

Once we had made our decision, we took the hire car to Schloss Mittersill. We were always going to visit as Caleb had lived there with his family back in 2000. His parents had taken their own three-month sabbatical and moved the whole family for what sounds like a glorious summer. At the time, it was a Christian retreat. It’s now a luxury hotel. Before the engine death, we were only going to stop for coffee, but after - naturally we decided to treat ourselves and pay for a night, complete with spa/sauna treatment and a delicious schnitzel dinner. Now, we’re in Venice because I’m tired of mountains and craving a city break. And then - perhaps the lakes of Slovenia. Or the beaches of the Adriatic Coast. We’ll decide later.

The fun continues.

I had messaged Anne-Marie asking if we could stop for lunch, as Antibes was en route to Nice where we had an appointment at a tyre shop (very exciting). “Bien sur!”, the response. We arrived, sweaty and bickering, stressed at navigating the town’s narrow one-way streets in our huge van. Ah, but what a sea change as we stepped into Anne-Marie and Michel’s magnificent villa, complete with swimming pool, delicious barbecued steak and gambas, light summer salads, ice-cold rose…and an air-conditioned bedroom. “Rest, you’re here, you need to eat and have a siesta. And stay the night! Stay as long as you want!”

We needed zero persuasion. A stop for lunch turned into two days of sea swims, amazing food, great conversations about travel, old memories about my mother and Anne-Marie. It was heaven. So, merci mille fois to Anne-Marie and Michel for this safe haven. We left rejuvenated, relaxed, excited, and FINALLY crossing a border!

We stopped at Lake Garda, right by the lake. Bless free night time parking and no height barriers. It was a perfect spot. We swam and cooled down. Caleb made burgers in the frying pan, which we ate as our feet dangled in the lake. Looking back, maybe we should have stayed for longer but we left the next day for the Dolomites.

Now. The Dolomites. I don’t want to sound over the top. But wow. WOW. I’m a child of Geneva and Chamonix, I’m used to the Alps and mountains. But this drama doesn’t compare. These peaks aren’t snow-covered and pastoral - they’re black, vertical, jagged, menacing. A real-life Mordor. As we drove, we saw more of these peaks rise up into the sky at every turn. It was completely breathtaking.

The next day, we paid the 45 euro toll to park at the foot of the famous Three Peaks, or Tre Cime, and started hiking. A full 20 degrees cooler than where we came from! PRAISE BE. 

Hiking, breathing fresh mountain air, being in nature - this is what we wanted. Not endless driving and problem solving. And the best thing about living in a van, your bed is right there for an immediate post-hike nap.

The next day, we drove 10 minutes to the Lago di Sorapis for another epic walk. Caleb said he’s done hikes as hard or harder than this in BC - I certainly haven’t. It was the most challenging and rewarding hike I’ve ever done. Surrounded by pines, pretty much the whole route was a steep scramble up loose rocks but the reward - this lake. 

Swimming is strictly forbidden to not distrub the lake’s fragile ecosystem. Fine with us - we weren’t going to be those dicks. The amazing turquoise colour comes from glacial silt that runs down the slopes and is suspended in the water. It’s just so breathtaking beautiful, with those imposing jagged peaks in the distance.

As you can tell, we’ve fallen in love with this region. We’ll spend a few more days here, exploring different hikes, eating more delicious mountain cheese and apple strudel. And then - Austria, Germany, the Czech Republic? We’ll see. Taking it day by day and loving every minute.

Absolutely nothing has gone as planned for this leg. We were supposed to be taking a ferry today, from Bari in Italy to Albania, to start our Balkans road trip. Albania, Montenegro, Kosovo, Bosnia and Herzegovina…a Europe of which we have zero experience and were so excited to explore.

So what happened? Well, darling Kokomo had other ideas. Despite getting fixed up in London, the engine warning light was still on. Our London mechanic told me it was fine to drive, the light just needed to be reset at a Peugeot garage. So I blithely drove all the way to the Dordogne. Once Caleb met me there, we finally found a garage who roundly told me off for driving from the UK with the engine light on. What were we thinking, etc etc. Apart from lecturing me in the 40 degree heat, there was nothing he could do - it had to be an official Peugeot garage. Readers, I called thirty different places. From Montpellier to Nice. Every single garage was booked until mid-August. One place in Digne-Les-Bains in the Provence region said maybe they could fit us in the following week but we’d have to call back Monday (it was Friday).

Stuck in France in a blistering heatwave - stressed, frustrated, hot, not knowing where to go - Caleb had a genius idea. Our friend Sindbad had recommended visiting the Gorge du Tarn, a mere three hours away. We would go there for the weekend, find a campsite, and regroup by the cool water.

It is absolutely stunning. A gem of a place that we wouldn’t have visited were it not for the circumstances. We kayaked, swam, explored, did laundry, and chilled hard. On Monday, we called that garage in Dignes Les Bains and hallelujah! They had availability on the Wednesday and would take the van for 48 hours to do a diagnostic. 

Still in the throes of an extreme heatwave, we picked up an air-conditioned rental car, booked a B’n’B, dropped off the van and drove to yet another Gorge, the Gorge du Verdun. Our strategy in the heat has been - find water. Get in it. We took full advantage of our little rental, zipping around old medieval towns with the narrowest lanes like Les Mées and Sisteron, with its Game of Thrones-style fortress perched on a hill. It was too hot to fully enjoy, but still so beautiful. 

Once Kokomo was fixed and ready for the road, we set off for the south coast. We reasoned it’s always slightly cooler by the sea, so we would find another campsite and plan our next steps. Less than 24 hours after picking the van up from the garage - boom. Our tyre explodes on a busy motorway with no hard shoulder.

From the perspective of the next day, I’m smiling as I write this because it’s just too much. One bloody thing after another! Caleb pulled into the outside lane, donned a high-vis, set out a warning triangle, and there we waited for rescue, again in the midday heat. I think at this point, I was convinced our trip was cursed.

So what are the themes here?

• Plans are for chumps.

• Always get breakdown insurance.  

• Everything is better after a dip in cold water.

More seriously: I’ve never felt such climate anxiety as I’ve done these past 10 days. Yes, we should have planned better and not decided to live in a tin box on wheels with no air-conditioning during the summer months. But - this has been unbearable heat. The owner of the BnB we stayed in in Provence said it had been 38-40 degrees consistently for the last month. Her husband and his three brothers grow lavender, almonds and olive trees; all failed this season and last year because of the heat. One more bad harvest, and they might sell the farm. The guy who fixed our tyre said it exploded because of the heat. Martin, our family friend who generously hosted us in the Dordogne told us that in June, there was a hailstorm with stones the size of tennis balls, which completely wrecked the local vineyards. Hundreds of thousands of euros wiped out in a few days, because of extreme climate.

Apologies for being extremely trite now and going, “but on the bright side!”. No, there’s no bright side to the burning of our planet. But there’s the reality of life, in which we find hope and joy and laughter in dark moments. These past weeks have been a lesson in letting go of expectations and making the best of it. We are safe, healthy, and so lucky to be together on this twisty-turny, unexpected trip, discovering beautiful places. Having a partner who can make you laugh when your tyre explodes in 40-degree heat - now that’s something to rejoice in. 

“Plans are worthless but planning is everything.” - President Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Despite what we now know on the futility of following a set itinerary, we have decided on a loose route. Escaping the heat, we will go up to the Dolomites and then head through Austria to the Black Forest in Germany.

Let’s see what happens!

For this edition: 180 miles driven and £144 spent on petrol.

My gorgeous friends, family, colleagues. Update from Kokomo number 2!...Except it’s actually an update from my ever-generous dad’s house. In London. Where I’ve been staying, in a limbo, paralysed-like state for the past 10 days.

So, what’s happened? Why am I here, instead of on the road? Where’s Caleb, I hear you ask?

First, great news: Caleb was granted his UK visa. He can now stay in these Great British Isles indefinitely, lucky him. Which inversely means he can leave the UK with no penalty, lucky us! Getting his visa meant he could go to Sardinia for a 2-week freelance gig. So he’s there, in a dusty military zone, putting up tents in 37 degree heat (also swimming in the sea daily so it’s not all bad), and bringing home the bacon. We’d both rather be together, on this adventure, but money is important I guess. It’s fine, I’m over it. 

Before he went to Sardinia, we went to the South Coast for a long weekend in Kokomo. We stopped off in a few places (shout out to Jaime for the lovely catch-up and walk in Crawley) but the most memorable would have to be the Hastings Nature Reserve. We drove cautiously up a steep, narrow lane to find an empty, grass enclosure with National Trust walks leading off it. Perfect for the night.

At around 11pm, as we were getting ready for sleep, we heard a car driving up. It stopped but left its engine running. I asked Caleb to peek through our curtains and see what was happening - perhaps a drug deal? - and he reported that despite a fair amount of space around us, this car had parked right next to our van. There were two people lying in the back, with the seats folded down and the boot door open. Whatever, I shrugged, maybe they just wanted to stargaze? And with that I fell asleep. Caleb, however, was kept awake by the sound of their car engine which didn’t shut off, raised voices and funny sounds, and other cars coming and going. How weird, we pondered in the morning. Little did we know, being so innocent and naive, that we had inadvertently hit upon a popular dogging spot… Still, I slept like a baby.

On our drive back to London, disaster struck: the engine light came on. And we’d been smelling petrol fumes in the van itself. Not good. As images of Kokomo exploding into flames danced in my brain, we drove to the closest Peugeot dealership in Maidstone. They were absolutely zero help but let us park while we waited for emergency assistance. Finally, someone came, confirmed there was a leak of some sort but said we were ok to limp back to London provided we took it to a garage straight away.

10 days and £500 later, Kokomo is fixed! And tomorrow I drive to the Dordogne with my dad, where Caleb will meet me next week. And our grand adventure finally fucking restarts. 

Other thoughts:

• For fans of Mamma Mia, go to Folegandros for a wedding. Or just go to Folegandros regardless. It’s the MOST beautiful Greek island, the food and wine is cheap and delicious, the landscape stunning, and I had a glorious time, surrounded by great friends, seeing the beautiful Kris and Ben get married. I highly recommend dancing all night in a Greek town square. Great for the soul.

• You know what else is great for the soul? Making up parody songs with your girlfriends and acting them out, like you’re teenagers again. We don’t make enough time for silliness in our adult worlds, but we should.

• On a darker note - feeling in limbo is paralysing. Being alone with your thoughts, with nothing to “do” and no structure to break up the day - it’s hard. Especially when the reality of where you are is so starkly opposite to where you think you should be. I’d been feeling perhaps overly dramatic about my aimless solitude in the last few days, but then I had a spontaneous Facetime with my Plums and everything was better again. Thank god for friends.

• Aside from the sexual exhibitionism, Hastings is great, particularly St Leonard’s. We met up with Caleb’s friends who had moved there and they sold it to us hard. Plus it’s got a mezcal bar - what more do you need?

We’ve driven 2,200 miles and spent £650 on petrol. We’ve swam in rivers, seas, and lakes, seen Disney-esque sunsets, with colours so vibrant they don’t seem real. We’ve experienced acute stress - packing up your entire life into a van, whilst also nagivating Home Office visa bullshit, is not for the faint hearted - but also, we’ve been the most relaxed than in a long time.

So, our journey so far: London - Sheffield - Dover - La Baule - quick work trip to Chile for Caleb [yes, I know] - the Loire Valley - Creuse - the Rhône - Chamonix - Dijon - Champagne - back to London, as Caleb has to apply for his visa from the UK.

This month has passed by…slowly, actually. Isn’t it beautiful how time stretches when each day is different? How it slows down, when there’s no rush to be anywhere, to finish do anything. On our first proper overnight van stop in France, in the Loire Valley, we were in the most beautiful place, completely hidden away, right by the river. There was no one around. Just the hum of insects and the gentle flow of water. (Shout out to Rob, my former colleague, for sharing this magical place.) It felt like we were outside of time and space. I don’t know how I’m going to reconnect to that feeling when I’m back in the reality of work-life, but it’s so precious to keep hold of, to carve out time for. Perhaps that’s my first lesson.

More updates:

• We’ve been using a scheme called France Passion, which is AMAZING. It costs 30 EUR for the year, and gives you access to thousands of farms and vineyards that can host your campervan for the night. The hosts will often give you a tour and/or tasting of their products, for free (the scheme encourages you to purchase something, but there’s no obligation). It’s been so fun to meet local characters, like Jean-Pierre (and his pet goose), a retired vigneron who told us that by hosting through France Passion, he’s travelled the world without needing to leave home.

• Hill starts in a 3.5 tonne vehicle are bloody hard. But apart from the pit-in-stomach feeling when I approach a red light on a steep hill, I am SO much more confident driving the van. Looking back, I worked myself into a real phobia about it but as with anything, it’s just practice. [You’re all welcome for this basic life lesson.]

• No issues with the van so far! Kokomo is a dream to be in. I love, and am so proud, of every inch. Bow down to Caleb who designed and built the entire thing. He installed the furnishings, the electrics, the gas, the plumbing. I helped a little but really it was all him and every time I turn on the tap, or a light, I’m in awe.

What next? Because of complications around Caleb’s visa and not knowing if and when he can leave the UK, Kokomo is staying in London for now. I’m off to Greece for my friends’ beautiful wedding.

Let’s hope the cost of fuel has gone down when I come back.