Visit to Stalag Camping and Caravanning Site

I don’t know whether I was having a particularly bad day but when we arrived at a Camping and Caravanning Club site (up North somewhere) the general vista and a plethora of static caravans that first confronted me set the scene. I knew from the outset that this was not a site that I was going to feel at home. It was like one of those parties you go to where you sense that something is ‘not-quite–right’ and you feel uncomfortable. You cannot put your finger on anything specific, but you just know that there is going to be trouble ahead.

We were placed at the arse end of the bottom field that ensured that the wonderful views of the distant hills were all but obscured by hedges and canvas. The toilets were so far from us that hiking boots were the necessary fashion. Actually, that was not the worse of it. The hike through the site, passing the tents, then the campervans and caravans then finally through the long avenue of static trailers meant that at least fifty pairs of eyes peered out at you, knowing that you are on the way to shit. The toilets themselves were reasonably clean but there was something about the demeanour of the decor and revolting piped music that made it a good place to start cutting yourself.

After the brief pleasure of a satisfying constitutional, my mood changed back as it was followed, excruciatingly, by the fifty pairs of eyes following me back, knowing that I may have been successful at dropping a log.

There are a number of things wrong with the camping and caravanning sites (the friendly club) it is keen to point out. One minor irritation is the fact that on many sites the tents are placed the furthest from the toilets, putting those in most need of the washing facilities, furthest from them. Meanwhile static caravans, caravans and camper vans, that all have their own facilities, are just a hop skip and stagger away.

As I sit here typing this slightly critical but heartfelt diatribe another person is crunching past the tent. Crunching, because at this end of the site the paths are gravel so if we can’t see who is off for a dump, we can certainly hear them.

Another annoyance with some of these ‘friendly’ club sites is the business model. Let’s shoehorn as many of the poor buggers onto every blade of available grass.  I am at such an angle to the tent next to me that a can hear the guys hair growing.

Adjoining our overcrowded car park is a five acre field which is owned by the club. It is further from the toilets yes, but relatively flat and with lovely views of the hills. What is it used for? Dog crapping. Don’t get me wrong, I have a dog, but let’s face it, all he needs is a bush or a car tyre. Plenty of those about. Plenty of walks about too.

So, if there was a toilet block were we were currently camped and I was in a wide open field where I could enjoy the vista I came up to see and could fart without seven other people hearing, this would be a good place to stay.  

But it hasn’t. Worst of all I booked for a number of nights. Do I stay and put up with it or go somewhere else and waste the money? I think I will start to look for somewhere else this morning. Unfortunately that means another night at Stalag CC Club.