🚿 Exeter Services: Spa Day for the Budget Adventurer
First stop after Totnes: Exeter services. Time for a shower and a cuppa. First time using the facilities and—shock horror—they were great. Free, clean, and three showers in the men’s toilets. I emerged feeling like I’d been to a spa, minus the cucumber slices and whale music.
💧 Water Wars: The 150-Litre Challenge
Next up: fresh water. Found a tank in Exeter with a nozzle like a petrol pump and a card reader that looked suspiciously judgmental. Swipe, squirt, and £15 later, Wilko was topped up and ready to hydrate a small village.
🧭 Destination: Charmouth
Paula directed us to Charmouth, where we found a lovely off-road spot within walking distance of the beach and shops. Wilko was set up for a few days of fossil hunting, beach lounging, and competitive nonsense.
🪨 Fossil Hunter Extreme: The Rules
On the walk to the beach, a competition was born:
- Each player must collect 3 rocks that might contain fossils.
- No Googling mid-hunt.
- Winner gets bragging rights and dinner made for them.
- Loser gets mocked until bedtime.
Paula, armed with sheer determination and zero tools, scoured the beach like a geologist with a vendetta. I, equally clueless but suspiciously competitive, searched the shingle like a penguin on roller skates.
🔨 Tools of the Trade: None
We had no hammer. No chisel. Just vibes. We carried our “finds” back to Wilko, convinced we’d unearthed ancient treasures. Google later confirmed we’d collected “rocks.” Dinner and TV seemed a better use of the evening.
🦴 Day Two: Fossil Fever and Hammer Time
Morning arrived. Fossil fever still raging. We visited the local fossil shop for guidance—and a rock hammer. Armed with new knowledge and a shiny weapon, we returned to the beach.
New rule: first to find a proper fossil gets dinner made for them. Motivation? Sky high.
Paula crushed me instantly. Her first find was a whole, perfect fossil—the kind you’d expect to see behind glass in a museum with a plaque reading: Found by Paula, Queen of Fossils. I swear I heard angels.
I, meanwhile, uncovered a few “fossilettes”—the kind of thing that makes you say “Oh… nice,” in the tone reserved for mildly interesting pebbles.
🏊♀️ The Swim That Wasn’t
We brought beach towels, chairs, and swimming gear. Paula swam. I didn’t. I chickened out at 10 a.m. when I saw the jagged shoreline rocks. My trainers stayed on. My courage stayed in my pocket.
Paula braved the stones and freezing water like an aquatic warrior. I sulked, “looking for fossils” (translation: licking my wounds).
🪑 Beach Chair Ballet
I tried to relax in my foldable beach chair—the kind that slowly slides you out like melting ice cream. The wind whipped up, sandblasting me into oblivion. By the end of the afternoon, I felt like I’d run another half marathon. My watch smugly informed me it was just 10,000 steps.
🍽️ Pub Redemption
Cooking in Wilko’s elbow-bumping kitchen didn’t appeal. The pub did. That plan had legs. We dressed up, headed out, and enjoyed a few pints and a cracking meal. We reminisced about the day’s chaos and walked home for a bedtime drink and a bit of telly.
🧭 Van Life Vibes
It’s only Tuesday—Tuesday!—and somehow the Totnes race already feels like a distant memory. Back then, I was a finely tuned athlete (sort of). Now, I’m a sandblasted fossil hunter running on tea, pub dinners, and misplaced optimism.
Waking up in Wilko and pointing him somewhere new? That’s the magic. No plan. No agenda. Just drive, park, and see what happens.
🏆 Jurassic Coast Scoreboard
- Paula: 1 perfect fossil, 1 victorious swim, 1 smug nap
- Me: 0 fossils, 0 swims, 1 pub dinner plan, 1 sandblasted face