The past few days have been all about two things, the Alps and the state of the clutch in our van.

The clutch had been showing a few concerning signs as we passed through Slovenia and our drive north to Venice was what you might describe as a fairly arse nipping affair.  But I found a loose clip, reconnected it to a rod and it settled down. I sincerely hoped that might end all of our worries. And it did.  We had a lovely beach day and said goodbye to the sea before leaving a hot and humid Venice.  Everything looked rosy.  We cautiously crept into the Italian Alps and the van was flawless, our worries seemed in vain. We pushed through the desperately beautiful Dolomites and over some fucking scary passes, it never missed a beat. Nor was it an issue along the motorway and into Austria.  Then we pulled into Innsbruck and that was pretty much where it shat itself.

It was running, you could drive it.  But there was no way it was getting us back to Calais.

So, I spent half a day running around trying to find someone who could fix the van and I found a few, but most of them needed me to wait or week or more.  Now here is the other problem, our 90-day Schengen entry expires right about the same time and we needed someone to fix our van, which is also our home, and it needed done asap.

I found one and, in fairness, there’s worse places to spend a couple of days than beautiful Innsbruck with its charming old town complete with towering mountains looming above.

The old clutch looked a sad and sorry state lying on the mechanics floor and the new clutch felt great as we confidently drove out of Innsbruck.  A thunderstorm ripped over our campsite on our last night in the Alps, which was seriously exciting.  The next day was something Kerry had looked forward to all trip, Castle Neuschwanstein, it’s featured in one of her favourite childhood movies ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’. 

And that was where we had the worst day of our trip so far.  As we pulled into the castle carpark the clutch started making strange sounds again, the heavens seriously opened up and there was no tickets available to get into the castle.  All of this on the anniversary of the passing of Kerry’s mam.  As we sat there in the carpark, we both contemplated just making a dash for Calais, if the van could make it, and then the ferry back home.

We spent the next hour ringing, texting and chasing up the Innsbruck mechanic.  Armed with only the receipt I rang the company who supposedly sold the clutch kit, who told me they had no record of the sale. By now I was feeling like we’d paid a bunch of Euros for a job that wasn’t done. I threatened the mechanic with fraud and the police while considering a return to Innsbruck where I was planning on doing some shouting.  In the meantime, the sounds stopped and we had a German mechanic in Füssen hoist the van up to look underneath, it was clear work had been done and the panicked Innsbruck mechanic was sending me every shred of evidence trying to prove he’d done what we paid him for.

Our German mechanic assured me the van was good, unlike the English football team, and suggested we could drive the van to Australia if we wanted, which helped settle our jittery nerves.

Sitting in the van that afternoon while the rain poured down, I bypassed the official Neuschwanstein website and got a ticket for Kerry to visit the castle the next day.  It had been right at the top of her wish list and I had to make it happen.  And because the rain was still pouring, we ate a tiny restaurant close by.  The service from a middle-aged German woman almost comical and nothing short of Basil Fawlty.  But the food was some of the best home cooked meals we’ve had in a long time, perhaps all trip.

So, today the sun is out and I’m writing this while Kerry is on her castle tour.  The clutch has remained silent but I’m not confident yet, we’ll find out as we hit the road this afternoon.