One day, my partner and I mused, we would tour the Greek islands in a large Recreational Vehicle (RV). We were in Skopelos in the year of our lord 1992 on what was known as a Thomson Square Deal holiday, one aspect of which was you would a cheaper holiday if your accommodation was allocated on arrival. Pre children and much younger and fitter, not knowing where we would be staying was not an issue. On this holiday, flying into Skiathos, the only Northern Sporades island with an airport (and what an airport), we didn’t even know which island we would be staying on. As we left the airport, we were put on a hydrofoil to Skopelos. Where? But it was lovely.
Most days, we took the bus to a different beach. They were all good, some, like Milia, were great. We must have walked miles in between slumbering on sun beds, but today, an unbelievable 32 years on, we still remember it like, well, it wasn’t 32 years ago. But it was. And on our travels, we arrived at a lovely beach – it may have been Panormos – where before shedding our clothes (all of them, as it happens) to bathe in the cool waters and grill under the Greek sun we got the RV dream.
By the side of the beach, just off road, stood an enormous RV. There were no electric hook-ups or any other such luxuries, but what there was looked heavenly. For most of the time, the only noise was the washing sound of the waves over the beach and the odd car passing by. Otherwise, there was nothing. A middle aged couple sat on camping chairs outside the RV drinking tea or coffee and read books. We didn’t stand staring at them but nonetheless the image stayed in my mind and it’s still as vivid today. We will do that one day. Of course, we never got round to it and frankly now we never will, but it sure seemed like fun.
We imagined what the nights would have been like. Many of the small resorts – if you can call them resorts: maybe villages is a better term – had little beyond the odd taverna and a handful of street lights. It must have been as quiet as the grave as the night closed in and as near pitch black as you could get, with just the stars to provide the light.
I could imagine myself quaffing a decent Metaxa late into the evening, after a few glasses of vinegar, or wine as the locals called it, and drifting off into a deep sleep, only to wake up to the dawn and brew a strong coffee.
Then, we would load up the RV and head to another beach, maybe just to bathe or to pitch up for the following night, once the mosquito bites had been tended to, that is. Although the roads were narrow and cratered, they were generally okay for touring, as long as another vehicle, no matter how small, didn’t come from the other direction.
It is worth pointing out at this stage that I saw this type of RV holiday through rose-coloured glasses. All the stuff like cleaning the toilet, edging around tight bends on switchback roads, keeping sand out of the bloody thing – all kinds of modern problems, really – I could compartmentalise, which is to say put reality to one side. All I could see was the couple on their camping chairs, supping their drinks, burying their heads in their books, having an occasional dip in the pure azure waters and listening to music on a Sony Walkman, the same seven cassettes on a permanent loop.
Of course, we never made it and slowly the dream faded, as children came along and priorities changed. Now, as I enter my dotage, it would probably feel like more than a penance. These days, I ache in places I didn’t know I had places and I want things to be just so, to enjoy a holiday without the bits that require effort. By all means have a good laugh, but trust me it comes to all of us. I would no sooner take an RV through Greece than go camping these days and I always hated camping even when I was young and relatively fit.
I hope one day to return to Skopelos, although I know that as time rattles by there are many more places to see and things to do while I still have sufficient energy to see and do them.
You can tell, I hope, how much the image of that RV affected me at the time because it’s etched into my mind. I prefer an apartment or a hotel room these days and Skopelos in an RV is just for dreaming about. Oh, what could have been, eh?
