Selling Roulotte?
An inevitable heartbreak

Three years that Roulotte has been our cocoon on wheels. Three years of landscapes as far as the eye can see, nights rocked by the wind, bright dawns in wild corners. Selling it? The idea tears us apart.

It was in Albarracín, Spain, that we felt its limits. That day, we were living in the moment, carefree under a generous sun, until Jean-Paul was suddenly struck by a fever. Panic. How could I get Roulotte back to France if I couldn't tow it alone? Fortunately, he held on until Alcañiz, where we found refuge while he recovered. The proximity of a doctor and a pharmacy reassured us. But this episode planted a seed of doubt. What if our mobile home was no longer suitable for the trips we dreamed of taking?

A decision engraved on the roads of Norway

The summer of 2024 sealed our choice. Norway gave us the answer. On these narrow, winding fjord roads, we struggled. Every bend was a test, every climb a challenge. This country offered us breathtaking panoramas, but also one thing was clear: we had to say goodbye to Roulotte, our beloved Roulotte...

And yet, the call of travel remained intact. The idea of ​​abandoning this freedom that inspired us was inconceivable. We couldn't give up the nights spent far from the world, lulled by the silence of the mountains, intoxicated by the scents of thyme and tarragon, or the salty sea spray of the coast.

Which vehicle for a new adventure?

Give up a Roulotte, yes. But for what?

The idea of ​​a campervan or a van was quickly dismissed. Too bulky, too low on the floor, not well-suited to our thirst for adventure. Moreover, the high-end models, costing over €100,000, didn't convince us: disappointing finishes, a lack of robustness, and an exorbitant cost... Only the Mercedes Sprinter 4x4 seemed to meet our needs, but its price, even before conversion, was well beyond our budget.

So, a more radical alternative was needed: a 4x4 with a living area.

So, pick-up or not pick-up?

The idea of ​​a converted 4x4 intrigued us. To find out more, head to Montélimar and its Adventure Vehicle Show. It's also a good excuse for dinner at a renowned inn (I'll give you the address if you ask in the comments!).

After a restful night, we discover a world that finally speaks to us: models designed for exploration, capable of leaving the beaten track and reaching remote villages, far from the tourist trails. Under a biting wind, I curiously inspect each prototype. Jean-Paul, for his part, is already dreaming of trails in the Italian Alps and independent road trips.

But before making a choice, a test drive is essential.

Let's get testing!

Before deciding, we needed a real test. So we booked a 4x4 pickup truck with a cargo bed for three days, from October 16th to 18th. Cost of the experience: €300 excluding fuel, with a hefty deposit of €2,000. A little added pressure: we were the first customers of this brand-new vehicle.

With the rental contract in hand, we parked the Duster and, without further ado, took control of the vehicle. Excitement, curiosity... and a detail that suddenly struck us: all our groceries had stayed in Perpignan! Goodbye to the delicious chocolate, the crusty bread, the mature cheese, and the bottle of cider we'd planned to celebrate the event. A little disappointed, we stopped at a small local grocery store before leaving Saint-Nazaire (66). It was already 11 a.m. when we hit the national road.

An extraordinary vehicle

From the first few kilometers, apprehension sets in. The vehicle's size is impressive, with its 2.75 meters height. I like the interior: I can stand up to cook. But Jean-Paul prefers a pop-up roof, more discreet and more aerodynamic. Unfortunately, it's impossible to rent one in the region.

We head towards Catalonia, determined to test the assembly in real-life conditions. Our route takes us through the mid-mountains, on the Bassegoda trail, renowned for its technicality. A full-scale test before heading back down towards the Mediterranean, along its winding roads and breathtaking panoramas.

And as luck would have it, it's the hunter's moon…

The border crossing goes smoothly. Sixty kilometers later, we reach our first stop: San Llorenç de la Muga. But one thing is certain: driving such a machine takes some getting used to. More than 2.5 tons to maneuver, a cell that alters the vehicle's balance... The slightest mistake can be costly.

Visit to San Llorenç de la Muga

Once the vehicle is parked near the ramparts, we enter the medieval walls through the first of the three fortified gates. We walk along the old canal, observe the waterwheel, then pass under a second porch that opens onto a Moorish tower dominating the landscape. Tiny cobbled streets wind their way to the central square, where a flower-filled fountain stands.

It's impossible to explore these places except on foot. A campervan here? Unthinkable!

A café catches our eye. Seated on a terrace, enjoying some tapas, we let ourselves be swept away by the Spanish atmosphere. The lively conversations, the smell of spices... We feel like we're somewhere else, yet so comfortable. The Iberian Peninsula remains our favorite playground.

The Trap of the Oak Groves

Refreshed, we leave the village and head towards the mountain trails. After five kilometers, we turn right onto a little-used path. Too little traffic. Wheel marks are rare, low-hanging branches threaten the bodywork… A bad feeling.

Jean-Paul maneuvers cautiously, but I'm not feeling very comfortable. My jaw tenses, my nails dig into the armrest. The forest seems to close in on us, as if to suffocate us; the air becomes more humid, more oppressive. With every bump, I feel like everything is going to tip over.

The Romanesque Chapel

Two hours later, after thirty kilometers of effort, a jewel emerges from the green setting: the Romanesque chapel of San Julia de Ribelles, solitary and majestic. Here, not a sound, not a soul for miles around.

We inspect the pickup and its cabin, fearing damage... but nothing to report. Relieved, we settle in for the night. While Jean-Paul enjoys a shower in the last rays of the sun, I explore the small, thousand-year-old church.

Built in 947, this building was once a central location for villagers living on charcoal, crops, and livestock. Around it, the abandoned agricultural terraces bear witness to a bygone era. The solid oak door, adorned with antique ironwork, is unlocked.

I push gently...

Inside, a ruined nave. A few rubble, a dim light filtering through the cracks. On the choir ceiling, traces of red and black paint, a last echo of another time. The atmosphere is striking.

I tiptoe out, as if to avoid disturbing the sleeping chapel.

An Unpleasant Surprise

After dinner under the moon, we fall into a restful sleep... until morning.
I get up first, still drowsy, and head to the kitchenette to make coffee.A cold drop hits the back of my neck.
I frown. Water?

I raise my head: tiny droplets are pearling on the ceiling, hovering dangerously above our cups. Looking more closely, condensation is everywhere.

Grumbling, I wake Jean-Paul. We knew that humidity was a well-known problem in vans and campervans that travel year-round, but we thought the wooden cabins were immune. Wrong! The airtight (nautical) design doesn't allow for good ventilation.
Something to keep a close eye on...

The scare of my life

We pack up camp and hit the road towards the Bassegoda trail. "New day, new adventure!" we chant to ward off bad luck. But already, a gray veil spreads across the sky.
I'm taking the wheel. Time to prove my driving skills.

The first few kilometers are tough. Grades of over 16%, paths carved out by erosion, veritable scree slopes with enormous rocks! My shoulders tense, my fingers tighten on the steering wheel.
The void is there, just inches away. One mistake, and I'll fall.
I try to breathe, but every turn makes me doubt. My stomach hurts, stress crushes my stomach. And then, the sky darkens, becoming threatening. It's impossible to continue like this.

When time becomes an enemy

I wonder at every hairpin bend if we'll ever reach the paved road. After two kilometers, I request a driver change so I can catch my breath and take stock of the situation. Phew! No damage; the holm oaks with their lower branches have left a few barely visible marks. The vehicle's rims and wheels show no particular damage.

It's urgent to leave, the storm is brewing. Jean-Paul gets behind the wheel, accelerates to get off the track as quickly as possible, fearing getting stuck or slipping if the rain comes. Finally, we reach the asphalt and continue to the remote hamlet of Lliurona. My companion tells me that at the beginning of the century, more than 200 souls populated the village, but economic difficulties pushed its inhabitants to seek work in industry, far from home. In the 1990s, young people, driven by ideals, returned to retrace their ancestors' footsteps, and a school was even opened.
I doubt I'll be able to visit this little gem of history.

The downpour beats down on the cabin of the vehicle, drowning out our voices and forcing us to stop at the edge of the forest. It's almost noon.

Lliurona, a timeless escape

Little by little, the storm subsides. Exhausted by the morning, I sink into a deep sleep. After a two-hour nap, I wake up and look through the tiny window: the colors of the landscape are revived after the rain, while the smell of humus tickles my nostrils. A dirt road, separating the olive grove from the pond, leads to Lliurona. This unusual village can only be visited on foot via tiny mule trails. We reach the watering hole and descend to the small 11th-century church. There, Aristotle, Plato, Montesquieu, Freud, and many others rub shoulders in the library, which also serves as a community hall for the locals.

Once again, the houses have emptied over time. A few hardy residents still tend a few vegetable gardens, perhaps in the hope that a new generation will take up the torch?

Last stop in Colera

Time flies, we have to go! We're driving briskly towards Colera, a small town on the Spanish coast, for our last night. Taking the road to the pass, higher up, we're sure to enjoy a better view of the bay. A good option: it's simply magnificent with the full moon rising over a calm sea. A light breeze cools the warm air escaping from the earth and the sun-yellowed shoots; a perfect moment to confront our feelings after this memorable day. The only deterrents are the dizzying height and the condensation of this assemblage.

After a quick dinner, we settle in comfortably and watch a western, while sleep already envelops us.

The Storm in the Middle of the Night

In the middle of the night, the pickup truck begins to rock all over the place. We wake up with a start, peering into the darkness. Is some malicious spirit trying to scare us away? No, the wind has suddenly picked up, roaring with gusts of over 100 km/h, sweeping across the bed. Despite everything, we're calm, but there's no doubt that a pop-up roof tent would have torn under such fury.

Jean-Paul decides to leave the place, despite the feeling of security this cabin gives us. As a reminder, the vehicle is a rental, so there's no way we're going to risk it tipping over. Sleepily, he takes the keys from the keyhole, starts the engine, and goes in search of a more sheltered spot. I protest, preferring to stay in the cell to make sure everything doesn't fly apart. In the end, I'm the one who's shaken, unable to stand for more than half a second when he starts rolling. I take refuge on the bunk and hang on as best I can.

I peer outside through the skylight, but the darkness is threatening me. After fifteen minutes, the vehicle finally stops. Jean-Paul struggles against the gusts of wind to open the door. He manages to get in by his own strength. According to him, no surrounding plot escapes this frenzy. This situation reminds me of the cyclones on my native island, Réunion, even if the gusts are less violent here. Calm returns in the morning. I realize that the attempt to escape was futile: no trees, no hills for hundreds of meters to provide us with any further shelter. We will remember from this episode that canvas pop-up roofs, although lighter, are not designed to withstand high-intensity winds.

Assessment and return to reality

These various experiences lead us to seriously reflect before any investment. We slowly begin our journey back, sad to have to return to Perpignan, because we love this nomadic life.

The most realistic choice would be to buy a new 4x4 pickup truck, since neither my teammate nor I are mechanics. As for the cabin, what should we do? The prefabricated one seems like an attractive option, but it costs nearly €50,000 fully equipped, not to mention the humidity, size, and unpleasant design surprises.

Jean-Paul already has his own idea, but I don't know it yet...

Of course, it's VroumVroum!, this crazy adventure of building our own truck camper, all out of wood, which we are currently carrying out!

For the more curious among you, I'll end with this information: the entire deposit has been returned. Phew!

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Sincerely yours

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