A RHD (right hand drive) truck in South America.

It was pointed out to me the day I picked our truck up from the port, by a local importer, that the Landrover was the wrong vehicle for South America. I thought he was making the point in relation to obtaining spare parts if required. But his point was the fact that it was a right hand
drive vehicle. Other Overlanders we were to meet on the road also expressed the same opinion, and I have to agree. It’s one thing to drive the Landrover in Europe on the right hand side of the road, as we are at the moment, or in the States as we have also done, but as a German we met pointed out these are "civilized" countries.

Driving a RHD truckon the RH side of the road in South America is absolutely the most stressful driving I have ever done! Driving on the wrong side of the road means that the
passenger (Gael) has to make all the decisions regarding when and if it’s safe
to overtake. This procedure usually involves overtaking big slow moving trucks, as the driver (me) can’t see around the vehicle in front, the one you are trying to overtake. In Europe and the USA (civilized) fine, in South America (uncivilized), unbelievably stressful for Gael and potentially deadly for everybody.
Putting all the above into the mix, I think for us, the only realistic way to complete this trip in the future would be to purchase a LHD truck/camper in the States.



We got the truck out of Cartegena, Colombia, after a thorough inspection of every article, and piece of belly fluff in the truck for drugs. I, feeling like I would either pass out in the heat, or empty my bowels in a less than controlled fashion, had to completely empty every
piece of gear in the truck onto the ground for inspection by the drug squad. I
then had to reload the truck and get it into the container. Usually, my personal stevedore and consummate organizer Gael, stands in front of the truck, with her arms flailing wildly, giving me directions while I reverse into the container. However in this instance, due to the total lack of common sense displayed by the port authorities, Gael could not enter the port. A seriously
tough morning given the poor physical shape I was in.

Colombian’s do not camp, so no campgrounds. The country therefore has absolutely no tourist infrastructure. As for your average Colombian! Friendly, outgoing and hoping and working for a brighter future. Those we met were more than willing to help out if they could. Definitely,
when we think of Colombia, we will remember the people. And have I mentioned
the women people? The Colombian woman has STYLE.



Although not on our planned itinerary, we now find ourselves in the Britain and Europe. The UK is as different to Colombia as chalk is to cheese.

We have spent three weeks with a hire car touring the south coast of Britain whilst waiting for the truck to arrive, and filled in the gaps from our previous trip over this way. Three weeks of B&B’s should be enough for anybody and it was definitely more than enough for me. It
must be mandatory that every B&B in Britain have squeaky floorboards and
****** plumbing.

The truck arrived in one piece even though one of the tie down straps cut through at some stage. I can only “praise the lord” that it didn’t move in transit and sustain serious, and expensive damage. Retrieving the truck from the docks in London took about one and a half hours, compared to four days in Colombia.

Whilst recognizing that Britain has appeal to some, and not wishing to offend those who made the smartest move of their lives and emigrated, I haven’t changed my opinion of the place. Overcrowded, narrow roads, depressing (even in summer), pay and park everywhere, and I believe there is even a **** tax these days. The place is just covered with litter with
roadsides, car parks, public places generally, needing cleaning. And those bloody hedgerows on rural roads. You get no view of the country side you are driving through. I could go on!!!

If you enjoy seeing the odd example of native fauna like we do, you will be disappointed. The only wildlife we saw was squashed on the motorway. Probably a desperate, and ultimately successful, attempt at euthanasia before the last of their habitat was paved over or eaten
out by sheep. And like Europe there is so little public space. There is virtually nowhere to go
to get away and reflect, fish, camp, enjoy the natural environment, etc. Some *******’s own everything, and the hapless general public has no access to any of it, unless you can afford to pay for it that is!
On the positive side of the slate, it does have heaps of history.



Once in the truck we headed for France to catch the end of the camping (holiday) season. You see someone at some time decided that all outdoor activities in the UK and Europe will cease on or about the end of September, regardless of the weather or the needs of the
tourist. Camping ground gates all across Europe start to slam shut in the face of tourists like us from the middle of September. And over here, no camping grounds mean no camping. Unlike the land of milk and honey, there is no public land to camp on. Try camping in a car park or in the street and you will be moved on and fined.

The weather is one thing I can’t complain about (amazingly). It has been excellent since we arrived, but it will cool off somewhat by the time we retrace our tracks back to Britain in October to store the truck until 2015. But for the moment, while we head south towards Spain, we hope that the sun continues to shine and maintain the mid to high 20’s.

Ahh, France. What a refreshing change after Britain. Excellent roads, free parking, no roadside hedgerows to block the view, an acceptance of motor campers in villages, etc, etc.

We have been here before, in 2010 I think, and what a difference a change of route has made. The Normandy and Brittany coasts (the northern coast lines nearest to the UK) were well worth a look. Generally smallish the villages have the look and feel that you expect of a French village. Last time we gave this piece of coast a miss and focused on the south
coasts of France and Spain, what a BIG mistake. High rise apartments stretch all
the way from Spain through France to Italy, with too many people and ****** beaches.

As an aside, one of the things we have notice about France is how clean it is compared to Britain – and Tasmania for that matter. Even highway roundabout’s are like miniature parks covered in flowers. The place is a bloody picture even if it's on it's knees economically.

We have moved onto the central Pyrenees in the south of France. If you haven’t gotten your Atlas out yet, the mountain range forms the border with Spain. We never saw much of them last time we were over this way as we crossed the French/Spanish borders at either end of the
mountain range. Well the place is bloody beautiful. Great walks are available, of the short, and long variety. Well worth the money spend on ibuprofen and panadol.

However nothing, I repeat nothing, is perfect. There is cow and horse **** everywhere, and let’s not forget the sheep’s contribution! The last Pyrenees bear was shot some time ago by a deranged farmer claiming self defense. But the parks in France do offer more than their
counterparts in Britain.