{"id":142,"date":"2025-10-22T15:11:11","date_gmt":"2025-10-22T15:11:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/ridesstridesandvibes.co.uk\/?page_id=142"},"modified":"2025-11-09T15:19:39","modified_gmt":"2025-11-09T15:19:39","slug":"%f0%9f%8f%95%ef%b8%8f-something-wild-something-windy-something-bottomless-wilko-goes-festivaling","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/ridesstridesandvibes.co.uk\/?page_id=142","title":{"rendered":"\ud83c\udfd5\ufe0f Something Wild, Something Windy, Something Bottomless: Wilko Goes Festivaling"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

As we rolled off on our next adventure\u2014a weekend festival of running\u2014we couldn\u2019t help but fantasize about Wilko\u2019s next phase. Would the new ceiling lights make him feel like a 5-star hotel or a nightclub on wheels? Would the acoustic panels turn him into the quietest, most zen mobile retreat in van history?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Only time\u2014and possibly a whole lot of trial and error\u2014would tell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\ud83c\udf0a Hope Cove: Views, Wind, and Midges<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

We were heading to Something Wild Festival<\/em> at Hope Cove, near Kingsbridge, Devon. A stunning seaside spot perched on dramatic clifftops, where the views could bring a tear to your eye\u2014or at least distract you from the midges eating your ankles and the wind trying to slap the freckles off your face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\ud83c\udff0 Wilko the Warhorse<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

We arrived just before 4pm on Friday, first to arrive, and had the entire field to choose from. Wilko creaked nobly up the slope like a warhorse returning to battle. We parked with military precision: top of the field, elevated, dry, and scenic. Also, less chance of being trapped in a mud pit come Sunday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wilko was fully armed:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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  • Both fridges humming like caffeinated penguins<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Bubbles and gin chilling nicely<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Chocolate rock-solid<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Three gourmet meals in the garage fridge (Paula\u2019s genius): pasta, curry, and chilli\u2014labelled, sealed, and ready for reheating like we were on MasterChef: The Muddy Edition<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\n

    \ud83c\udfaa Festival Setup (Sort Of)<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    Once settled, we helped the festival host with final setup. Translation: we stood around holding string and pretending we knew what gaffer tape was actually for.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    By sundown, the field had filled with hopeful campers, tilting tents, and the kind of optimism that says, \u201cTomorrow probably won\u2019t be that wet.\u201d<\/em> Several runners took off on the evening run. We waved politely and stayed put. That wasn\u2019t for us.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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    \ud83d\udebd The Bathroom Experience\u2122<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    At the edge of the field sat five wooden boxes that looked like they\u2019d been assembled during a mild panic. Inside three of them: toilet seats and\u2026 a bottomless pit. Not a drain. Not composting. A chasm. A void.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Think Slumdog Millionaire<\/em>, but make it rustic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    A bucket of sawdust sat beside each one\u2014presumably to mask your \u201ccontribution\u201d or spiritually cleanse your soul after seeing what lay beneath.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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    \ud83d\udebf The Showers: A Gamble with the Gods<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    Next to the toilets were two \u201cshowers\u201d with adventurous personalities. If the heater liked you (rare), you\u2019d get a moment of glorious hot water\u2014just long enough to lather your shampoo before being plunged into the Arctic rinse cycle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

    But when the water was hot? Pure joy. You\u2019d stand under the stream like you\u2019d just been baptised.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

    \ud83c\udfb6 The Festival Hub<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

    A single teepee tent with hay bales, a few speakers playing indie-eco-folk, and a bunch of runners trying to dry off while discussing:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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    • Nutrition<\/li>\n\n\n\n
    • Hydration strategies<\/li>\n\n\n\n
    • Why no one can ever find a dry sock past day one<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\n

      There was a mobile sauna too\u2014steaming away like a mirage. Did we go in? No. Did we dream about it while shivering on the cliff? Absolutely. Regretfully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \ud83c\udf54 Food Vans & Phantom Pork<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      A couple of vans sold teas, coffees, flapjacks, and one allegedly did hog roasts. I never saw any pork. Just a promising sign and the smell of onions. Possibly a trap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \ud83c\udf5d Pasta, Bubbles & Bibs<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      We were totally geared up for the weekend, no matter what the weather did. Food, drink, telly, and glowing lights\u2014time to turn them on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      We tucked into our pasta and a well-earned glass of bubbles after picking up our running bibs for the races ahead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \ud83c\udfc3\u200d\u2642\ufe0f Saturday: The 5K Jungle Assault<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      We signed up for the 5K trail run. A short distance, in theory. In practice? A full-blown jungle assault course. Vertical hills. Slippery paths. Nettles that were clearly unionised and hostile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      These weren\u2019t your average \u201coops, brushed my ankle\u201d nettles. These were aggressive. They sought contact<\/em>. I\u2019m pretty sure one of them growled at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      The race started downhill, and for a glorious five minutes, I was in second place behind someone born after the invention of Wi-Fi. Then came the incline. I opened the gate and held it for Paula, who flew past with a high five and a look of loving pity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      She powered up the hill like a mountain goat with unfinished business. She ran like she was late for a dinner reservation. Finished 2nd overall. 1st woman. 1st in her age group. Possibly solar powered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Me? I was behind. Far behind. Dragging my body over every incline like I was auditioning for a slow-motion nature documentary:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      “Here we see the lesser-spotted trail runner, wheezing dramatically and regretting everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      I negotiated with my lungs. Made emotional eye contact with trees. My legs filed complaints. My back staged a protest. But I finished. Eventually. Gasping, muddy, and very much not victorious\u2014but proud. I wore that little wooden medal like it was Olympic gold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Paula clapped me in like I\u2019d just scaled Everest. And honestly, it felt like I had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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      \ud83d\udebf Showers, Chilli & Existential Dread<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      Post-race shower? Cold as betrayal. I was in and out in seconds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Back in Wilko, we tucked into Paula\u2019s legendary chilli\u2014so good it deserves its own fan club\u2014and contemplated Sunday\u2019s half marathon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      My back was aching. My legs were shot. The weather was threatening biblical scenes. Paula was already planning breakfast and pacing strategies like a caffeinated Olympian. I was considering retirement. Not just from running. From movement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Then it hit me: what if I didn\u2019t run? What if I\u2026 volunteered?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      I\u2019d still be part of the action. Just less soggy. Noble. Helpful. Warm. (This was a lie I told myself.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      I floated the idea to Paula. She agreed. I\u2019d sleep on it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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      \ud83c\udf27\ufe0f Sunday: The Marshal Chronicles<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      I woke up with a bad back and a strong sense of self-preservation. I chose wisdom. I chose laziness. I chose\u2026 marshalling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      I told the race director I wasn\u2019t fit to run. He thanked me\u2014and immediately asked if I\u2019d marshal. I said yes. Like a fool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      They posted me on a cliff. A literal, wind-blasted cliff. My phone hadn\u2019t charged. I had 25% battery. No signal. No shelter. Just me, a whistle, and zero idea what I was supposed to do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      I was stationed at a three-way trail intersection. Ultra runners from one side. Marathoners from another. Half marathoners from somewhere else entirely. I was a human signpost with no map, no training, and no clue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Runners emerged from the mist, soaked and hopeful. \u201cWhich way?\u201d they\u2019d ask. I\u2019d point confidently in a direction that felt<\/em> right. Was it? Who knows. I said it with authority.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Eventually, someone called me (on my last 10% of battery) to explain the actual directions. Also, I was supposed to count runners. Too late. That ship had sailed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Meanwhile, the weather had turned theatrical. I watched storms roll across the ocean like Poseidon had entered the chat. No trees. No rocks. No cover. Just me, a tin of jelly babies, and a rapidly fading will to live.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      I walked in circles to stay warm. Shouted things like \u201cYou\u2019re smashing it!\u201d and \u201cSnacks this way!\u201d with the enthusiasm of someone pretending their waterproofs were actually waterproof.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Paula flew past me twice, grinning like she was running through a meadow, not a monsoon. I don\u2019t know what planet she\u2019s from, but I\u2019m not allowed to live there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      When the last runner passed, I ran back to the finish line like I\u2019d just completed the Ultra. Arms pumping. Heart pounding. Soaked to the bone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      There was Paula: showered, fed, packed up. Probably had time for a nap, a book, and a quick online degree while waiting for me.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

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      \ud83d\ude90 Exit Like Legends<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

      We rolled out of the field like legends, waving cheerfully at the poor souls spinning their wheels in the mud below us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Would I do it again?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Oh, 100%.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      But next time, I\u2019m bringing:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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      • A sign that says \u201cAsk Paula, I don\u2019t know where this trail goes\u201d<\/em><\/li>\n\n\n\n
      • Spare socks in a waterproof vault<\/li>\n\n\n\n
      • And maybe a small inflatable raft<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\n

        The Something Wild Festival<\/em> may be wet, windy, and wildly unpredictable\u2026 but I wouldn\u2019t miss it for the world.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

        \u201cGot something to share? Click the arrow to reveal the form!\u201d<\/em><\/summary>

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