Travel Writers Have Disastrous Trips Too!
If Michael Palin could circumnavigate the world, who could stop me circumnavigating the Isle of Wight? Eva Braun. That’s who.
In the 1990’s, Michael Palin was busy circumnavigating the world. He was either nipping around the Equator or he was dashing from Pole to Pole. However, he hadn’t circumnavigated the Isle of Wight.
In 1995 (when I was at the start of my travel writing journey), I decided that I would. I was looking for an achievable long distance footpath that I could attempt over the four-day Easter holiday (when I could escape the 9–5 job). The 60-mile Isle of Wight coastal footpath beckoned.
I should have realised that I was doomed to fail when I disembarked at Ryde Pier. I’m not saying it’s long, but having crossed The Solent I felt I was still closer to Portsmouth than I was to the Isle of Wight. When I reached the island though, it welcomed me with glorious blue skies and warm sunshine. With my two-man tent strapped to my rucksack I began my trek in a clockwise direction.
I hadn’t booked any campsites in advance. I wasn’t sure how far round I was going to get each day, and anyway, it was the Easter bank holiday weekend and that therefore, marked the start of the great British tourist season. What could possibly go wrong?
By 7pm light was fading and I was near to Bembridge Harbour. The first two campsites I approached were closed, forcing me to walk a mile inland to locate another. Thankfully it was open, and best of all, it had plenty of space.
Entering the reception, I soon realised that it was Eva Braun sat behind the desk. I could tell by the disdainful look she gave me.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a pitch for the night please.”
“Not here you’re not.”
I was taken aback. The site was huge and there were only a handful of tents pitched.
“It’s just me,” I argued. “I’m walking around the island using the coastal path. I just need a pitch for one night. I won’t be any trouble.”
“No can do,” Eva Braun sniped. “It’s against company policy.”
“Company policy?”
“Yes, this is a family campsite,” she spat. “We do not allow all-male parties.”
I looked over my shoulder for the other twenty hooligans that I thought I must have brought in with me without realising, but they weren’t there. It was just me. And, I suppose, technically, I was an all-male party.
In Eva Braun’s defence, she did find a campsite willing to accept me and ordered a taxi to take me there. I had no idea where it was taking me. When I arrived, I was dismayed to discover I was back in Ryde, where I’d started several hours earlier.
Dejected, I caught the next ferry back home the following morning. The Isle of Wight coastal footpath could wait. Michael Palin can do it instead.
Of course, being a writer, I made the most of the experience. I wrote letters to a camping magazine and a walking magazine and got the star prize in both, and I wrote two articles about the event. Earning from those piece far exceeded my travel costs (which I also managed to get reimbursed from the campsite’s owners who admitted that their member of staff had been overzealous in her interpretation of the site rules).
So, not the travel experience I planned for, but most definitely an experience. It’s not all glamorous for us travel writers, you know! 🤣
