one bus – one love – one world
The fit out is complete. ‘Gentle Revolution’ is our now our home on wheels.
Still need to get the solar power sorted but we are so excited we are sleeping in it tonight before we can leave tomorrow.
From throw outs – to skip bins – to generous friends we have done it for less than £3,000 we are on the road. That includes the bus itself, rego, legal requirements and all our material for fit out.
ONE FAMILY – ONE BUS – ONE WORLD – ONE LOVE
Rolling along the English laneways aboard our bus allows for great contemplation if you can ignore the clang of saucepans and occasional run in with oncoming tractors. The slow pace of our Ldv minibus suits me just fine and today is no different. The morning eases by and we start to follow the coastline of south-western England.
Today seems fresher than normal with an expected high of just 14 degrees. I wonder what the hills back home in Australia are whipping up for the locals. It’s about this time on the farm I’d harvest the first brassicas, broad beans and attack the  brussel sprouts.
I have managed to sneak some herb pots onto the bus and two bowls of salad greens but space is sparse. Adorning the kitchen bench the plants take prime position for sun and attention alongside the ever-fermenting vat of kombucha.
Gardening seems to have sunk its energetic teeth into my soul long ago so I am struggling to come to terms with buying all our food now. It has become my traveling ethical dilemma – buying food and fuel to allow for our adventures. I used to grow so much food for the family but now I rely on the efforts and ethics of others.
As a small cafe looms in the distance against a backdrop of stark green hills and grey skyline, I reach for my camera and jacket knowing we will stop. My heart quickens a little sensing something new. I can’t see over the edge completely but know its the sea below by the amount of spray and lack of landform towards the horizontal horizon. Birds appear to be flying out of a cliff face as they fight against the windy flows. I see the words ‘Hells Gate Cafe’ on the side of a white building and wonder who named such a place? It looks so clean and peaceful.
Along with the inhabitants of nine other cars and caravans we walk across a sea of wild flowers to see what the fuss is about. As my family and I approach what feels like the edge of the world we feel the full force of the Atlantic Ocean. The blow rises against the steep gradient of the cliffs, channelled by the shape of the land. The beauty of these cliffs surprise me. A rare, untouched piece of paradise, inaccessible to most where the fragile balance of life is ever-present. I begin to understand the name ‘Hells Gate’.
I feel alive here, tingling with adrenalin as I sway on the edge of certain death, watching razorbills and herring gulls protecting and feeding their chicks. Their nests perched precariously on small ledges facing the blows of mother earths’ breath.
I watch my daughters reach for their binoculars as we get closer and closer to the limit of safety. The water draws you in, the flowers mask the scent of fear and the binoculars alter your perception of distance. My heart is pumping.
Placing my hand on Nakeela and Jays shoulder I point out the dangers of the area and leave them to explore at their own pace. Its moments like these I just have to cut the umbilical cord and allow them the freedom to be responsible for their own fate ( and death). I am constantly accessing the appropriate level of parenting. Sometimes I annoy myself with my own nagging voice. Learning when to let go is just as much about my growth as it is about their personal development. I fight the urge to stay by their side.
There is no climbing here unless you have a death wish. No barriers or fences. I am certain the girls are feeling the confrontation of life and deaths’ struggle here just as much as I am. I have forgotten about the mess in the bus from packing in a hurry. There is no insistent demands for tired people to go to bed or clean their food plates. Just body rocking winds and the cries of baby gulls waiting for their food. The parallel comparison between man and animal, food and parental responsibilities are profound.
The family divides to follow their own interests and I sit to meditate. Rock and water battle beneath like a metaphor for my own journey at the moment and I play out in my mind’s eye the effects of opposing forces within the family that are occurring. New grounds and new buses mean new power plays, new emotions and stresses that have not been present for many years. We live so closely together and there has been many changes since selling up and hitting the global circuit. It becomes evident that the ego within me is still waiting to burst forth and all four of us need time and space to grow and develop our spiritual grace.
Hopefully things will begin to slow again soon as we have almost completed the bus transformation and the last two house sits are almost over. Life on the road is waiting for us and we are ready – impatient in fact.
Buckling up we ready ourselves and adjust the saucepans one last time before starting the engine. Nothing. My husband tries again. The ‘Gentle Revolution’ wants to start but there seems to be no ignition of fuel. He coughs and farts, releasing white swirls of smoke that join the Atlantic winds. I say a silent apology to mother earth and unbuckle the seatbelt. My husband says white smoke is unburnt diesel and a few fuck words.
All I can think is – this will test the dynamics again and the bank balance.
As the bus sits silent in the car park I smile knowing the cliffs are waiting like they have been for thousands of years, combating the elements in silent grace. I relax the tension from my nervous shoulders and smile, knowing we are just where we need to be for the moment – Hells Gate.
Organising insurance, tax and paperwork to get our bus on the road has taken a toll on our family dynamics this week. Rules and regulations are something we are unaccustomed too at the best of times but when your pushed for time and in a different country everything seems exacerbating. I accept I am a person on a visa, living in a temporary country so adhere to the present laws but it doesn’t mean I have to agree with them. I choose the ones I can live with, avoid those that cause harm and love the ones I can bend.
Our first journey together as a insured family was a Skip run. Those big metal bins that people discard their building waste in, come in handy for fitting out buses on a budget. After several lanes, business parking lots and a disagreement with my husband over directions we found a gem of a bin.
Perched just off a main road, out of sight and filled with crap. This Skip was perfect. Our eldest daughter was keen to try her hand at dumpster diving ever since we listened to stories from the WOOFers who had stayed at our farm. From food to household supplies, these dumpster diving professionals had set the bench mark pretty high. Two girls from Belgium lived almost entirely from the throw outs of others and had even established friendly routes and timetables to coincide with business owners so that their food never saw the darkness of a garbage can. We chose not to raid for food due to health reasons and lack of experience at this stage but we do love a good rummage for everything else.
Nakeela, our first-born is 12, is shy at times and a total birding genius. It is normal to find her sitting quietly up a tree observing a common crow or recording flight paths of nesting swallows. Not today though. I rounded the corner to see her head first into a massive skip. I couldn’t help but smile and feel somewhat proud. She was calling out with excitement “I found a pair of boots Dad, come help me.”
As carpet offcuts, shelving, lights and a single bed base were hauled onto the bus I pondered what authorities or onlookers would think about our actions. The only people I could see was the guy on the phone trying to score and an odd couple making out – neither cared. The boots didn’t make the cut but we were happy with our efforts. What is the crime in using one mans rubbish? You save in so many ways; earths resources, fuel, time and money.
The laws concerning dumpster diving are different in each country and it helps to know them, just to keep yourself out of trouble. We are finding, if your sensible and polite most people are happy for you to have a scrummage throught the trash.
‘Gentle Revolution’ swayed all the way home with his uneven load. I wonder if he feels the joy in our conversation as we discuss the possibilities for his fit out. One piece of wood we found in the bin just calls to be a herb shelf and the second score will have some sort of practical use somewhere as a bench.
It’s hard to imagine what we were doing prior to buying this bus. Homeschooling, cooking and general personal hygiene is out the window at the moment. My husband hasn’t even attempted to unpack his recording gear yet. All attention is focused on one thing – the bus.
Maybe that’s where the family dynamics broke down. Perhaps pushing for things quicker than the universe was ready for, has led me here – inner disharmony. Yoga practice – GONE. Slow nutritious meals – FORGOTTEN. Listening, loving and appreciating my husbands being – TOO HARD.
Theres a lot to be said for balance in your life and maintaining seems to be the key.
Tomorrow is always a new day, that you can be sure of and hopefully I will wake with a lighter heart.
See you aboard sometime.
gentle revolution 