Amsterdam had been brilliant, but we were not done yet. After a cracking few days in the Netherlands, Harry and I pointed the Dethleffs south and took a three-hour drive into Germany. Destination: Cologne. Mission: find our old mate Alan, pull on the Germany shirts, and watch the World Cup. As far as plans go, it was a solid one.
Cologne, Alan, and a 7–1 Demolition
The campsite check-in gave me a laugh. They asked how long the van was, and I did what I always do, said “oh, about eight metres,” and they produced an actual tape measure. It turns out we are 8.7 m. I will hold my hands up: I am not great at maths under pressure. They found us a spot regardless, we skipped the electric hookup (full battery, did not need it), and within about twenty minutes of parking up, Alan had arrived.
Alan has been living in Germany for ten years (I said eight, he corrected me, classic Alan), and we go back well over thirty years. We first met at Xerox in the early nineties, he got me an interview at Nikon, and he has been a godfather figure to the boys ever since. That kind of friendship does not need much of a preamble. We grabbed the Germany shirts, walked down over the old railway bridge across the Rhine, found a beer garden showing the game, and got one of the last tables.
Germany vs Korea Republic: Germany won 7–1. We sat in Cologne watching Germany score seven goals in a World Cup group stage game, surrounded by very happy Germans. That is one for the memory bank. Harry was brilliant company all evening, and watching him catch up with Uncle Alan on the walk home was, if I am honest, the best bit of the night.
Bruges, the Tightest Park-Up in Europe, and a 1–1 Draw
The next morning, Alan was up at half six for work (dedication), and we were on the road to Bruges by mid-morning, about three and a half hours in total, with a service station stop for fish fingers in the air fryer, four each. There is no arguing with that.
Now, the aire in Bruges. I want to manage your expectations here, because a lot of you are going to look at these pictures and get the heebie-jeebies. We are talking less than a metre between vans. We were completely sandwiched: neighbours on both sides, more pulling in behind us, the place absolutely chocker. And that, you know, is Europe: that is how it works out here. It is tight, it is efficient, and the location is perfect for getting into the city. If you are planning to use this one, come early, because by the time we left in the morning it was genuinely full.
We pulled the scooters out and headed into town for Belgium’s game. The cobblestones of Bruges are absolutely savage on those things (I thought my fillings were going to end up in my lap), but we found Delaney’s Irish Pub, got a couple of nice cold blondes in, and watched Belgium nearly lose to Egypt before Lukaku came on and equalised within seconds of stepping onto the pitch. The atmosphere in that pub went absolutely mental. A brilliant evening.
The Numbers and Getting Home
It was Eurotunnel the next morning, with bacon and cheese croissants in the oven while we waited to board (highly recommend this approach to Eurotunnel departure anxiety), and one nap later we were back in the UK in 29-degree sunshine.
Total trip stats for the nerds among you, and I know you are out there: 992 miles over six days, three tanks of fuel, Amsterdam to Rotterdam to Cologne to Bruges and home. We fuelled up in Bruges at 184.9p per litre, 75 litres for just under €140. Not the winner we got in Croatia, but better than the UK, so we will take it.
Harry’s verdict was that he could not pick a favourite bit, which I think means it was all good. That will do for me.
If you want to see the full trip (the football, the cobblestones, Alan, and the most nerve-wracking park-up we have done in a while), the video is up now. Give it a thumbs up if you enjoyed it, and drop a comment below telling us the tightest spot you have ever squeezed a motorhome into. We will see you on the next one.
Watch the full video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCHjdNnUfQA