My view...

Pippa Cleeve gives her motorhome a new name, the Flying Englishwoman…

When people ask me what it is I like about motorhoming, the obvious answer is the freedom it gives me to explore and see new places. Conversely, the biggest challenge in these new places – in my opinion anyway – is stopping.

You drive away from your home/ stellplatz/campsite with great excitement about the next location, which you have (possibly) carefully planned, booked in advance and explored thoroughly.

Sometimes you just want a meal/a coffee/to stop and take a break mid-journey, but are unable to find anywhere on the hoof to pull over without taking out a lamp post, discovering you have broken some obscure foreign parking rule or caused an international (motoring) incident.

My foray to Hamburg is a case in point. I was with my younger daughter and youngest son and had planned my assault on the city. I had chosen my stellplatz, programmed my (malevolent) sat-nav and was ready to drive the necessary two hours in order to get there. We reached the centre successfully (“Look everyone, there’s the Elbe!”), and found our way to the place – only to miss the turn-in, which was across a busy road.

Determinedly cheerful, I resolved to do a loop around the city and try a second time. Of course, in common with most cities, Hamburg has lots of one-way roads and restricted turning places, so I hoped that the sat-nav would help me out in suggesting how we were going to manage to return and try again. But all it said was, “Make a U-turn.” Not helpful.

It knew I was driving a motorhome, which was nearly eight metres in length. It knew I was in central Hamburg. And yet it thought that ‘make a U-turn’ was an appropriate piece of advice.

Undeterred, I managed to go around the city and get to the same point again (“Look everyone, there’s the Elbe!”), slowing down earlier, in spite of pressing traffic, but this time I saw that the entrance was blocked by a sign. I was able to pull over a little further on, on the opposite side of the road (or maybe I wasn’t, and was blocking a bicycle lane, but I did anyway), and jumped out, incensed. A brief investigation informed me that, even though there were motorhomes already parked there, and there were still spaces left, there would be a fish market there the following morning and everyone would need to leave by 7am, so no more motorhomes were allowed through.

Muttering darkly, I got back in the ’van, thumbed through the motorhome guide and tried to get my app to work, but that wasn’t playing ball either. I found a second place, programmed the sat-nav and off we went.

We drove around the city again (“Look everyone, there’s the Elbe!”), but this time, due to the slight lag in the ’van’s position on the sat-nav (and in my attention), we went past the turning for that place, too. “Make a U-turn.” Of course. What a great idea.

This time the journey around was longer and more fraught and the rush hour was starting – and we seemed to cross more parts of the river (“Look everyone, there’s the Elbe...again!”).

Finally, back at the turning, slower this time, full concentration and… nothing. No entrance. Nowhere to turn, just a continuous high kerb where the sat-nav had promised me that the parking would be. Needless to say, I did what I always do in times of high vehicular stress, and told the sat-nav exactly what I thought of it, no holds barred.

My arch-nemesis responded, “Make a U-turn.”

Programming in a third place in a traffic jam, I arrived and turned in, only to find that it was parking for cruise passengers only, so I was turned away. I was reminded of the legend of the ship, the Flying Dutchman, destined to sail forever and never make port, and felt a pang of empathy – perhaps we were the motorhome equivalent?

In the end I drove 14km south of Hamburg to a parking site with lousy facilities next to a railway line that ran all night, but I have never been so happy to arrive anywhere as I pulled in and switched the ignition off, just over three hours after I arrived in Hamburg. (“And if you two ever forget which river

Hamburg is on…”)