The Full Story 

Our Dream Begins

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Back in late 2020, we took a holiday to Scotland. We’d carved out two weeks from work and packed up our little red car with everything we could possibly need for life on the road with a two-year-old—food, water, clothes, toys, the lot. The car was bursting at the seams, but it carried us through an unforgettable trip. One night we couldnt find anywhere to stay, we had driven for hours and it was dark. We pulled into a layby where two campers were parked. We were fustrated as we looked through their window at them pottering around and makng themselves tea. we thought to ourselves...you smug bastards! We wanted what they had, the grass seemed greener on the other side, at least from where we were sitting! The idea of being able to travel without stuffing a car to the brim, without so many restrictions, and with the freedom to just get in and go anywhere was so appealing to us! From then on, we couldn’t stop imagining what travel in a camper could look like for us.

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But at the time, it felt impossible. Rent was sky-high, bills seemed to arrive every five minutes, and with childcare costs piled on top, our dream was quickly buried under reality. So, we made the best of what we had. For another two years, that little Leon carried us on our holidays, camping trips, and weekend escapes. We still travelled whenever we could, though it meant cramming the car and spending hundreds on campsites. Then life took a harder turn—I lost my job after a death in the family left me unable to cope with the grief. We fell behind on rent and were eventually evicted, moving in with my mum just to stay afloat. As tough as it was, that move gave us a little breathing space. With lower rent and new job prospects starting to appear, things slowly began to look brighter. By 2021, we found ourselves dreaming again, scrolling through listings, even going to view vans in person. We knew we could never afford to buy one outright, but if the bank would approve a loan, maybe—just maybe—this dream could become reality. We said no to so many, waiting for the one that felt right. We viewed so many, saying no again and again, some of them so hard to walk away from because we wanted this so badly. And then came Yvie — an Iveco Daily extra-long wheel base, third-hand, only 90,000 miles, £15,000. She was the one. Taking out a bank loan wasn’t something we did lightly, but with a good credit score and steady income, we were lucky enough to be able to do it. Signing those papers felt terrifying and exhilarating all at once. A week later, we drove Yvie home.

 

It was one of the biggest milestones of our lives. She sat on the driveway for months because shortly after we got her, nathan fell down the stairs and injured his back which left him practically bedridden for 3 months. The van gathered lots of condensation leaving it mouldy! We got her October 2022 and she sat there until January 2023, waiting for us to lay the first foundations of the build. Every time we looked out the window, we saw possibility sitting there, and we knew — this was the start of everything. 

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After we decided to start building in January, we were already using the van for tip runs. Being an ex-builder’s van, she was dirty, grimy, and in desperate need of love—we had our work cut out for us from the start. Nathan and I would head out to work on it after our 9–5 jobs, but it was winter: cold, dark, and progress was painfully slow. When we pulled down the old wooden boards, the extent of the mould hit us—it was everywhere, even in the cab. That weekend became a full gut-out. We stripped the ceiling, pulled out the seats and carpet, and left nothing but an empty shell. Then we blasted it with the power washer and let it dry for days. Only after all that could the real fun begin—the build. We downloaded Vanspace 3D to map out ideas and spent hours scrolling Pinterest for inspiration, but honestly, it was overwhelming. Nathan had some building experience, but this was way out of our depth. We had no money to hire help and no contacts to lean on—it was just the two of us, figuring things out as we went. Slowly, as the months passed and the days grew longer, progress began to show: new floorboards went down, soundproofing was fitted, insulation lined the metal skin. Piece by piece, our van was starting to take shape. I even planned a surprise trip to the Lake District as our first real holiday in her. It felt like a milestone moment—we quickly built a bed, packed up our food and water, set up Theo on his camp bed, and hit the road with smiles on our faces, it was our turn to be the smug ones now!

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That smugness didn’t last long. Driving down Great Langdale, we reached a fork in the road—left or striaght ahead, with a big warning sign declaring: unsuitable for vans and HGVs. Naturally, we laughed in the face of danger and chose straight ahead. Within minutes, we realised our mistake. The road narrowed into terrifying bends that doubled back on themselves. At one point, only two of our wheels were actually on the tarmac, the other two dangling off the edge of the mountain. Cars were coming at us head-on, others were stacked behind us, and there was nowhere to go. The drive was a mix of fear-filled screams, adventure, and wild exhilaration. Later, we found out that road was none other than Hardknott Pass—the most challenging road in the UK. To top it off, we discovered a leak in the roof that night. Lying in bed, we felt cold water dripping onto us, soaking everything. In the middle of the night, Nathan and I had to climb up onto the roof in a severe rain and thunder storm and mountain winds threatening to knock us off We were armed with duct tape, patching the leak just to get through until we made it home.

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When we got back, it was back to our jobs for a while until we could make more money for resources to complete the build.....then diaster struck.

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I was made redundant, and with the cost of living through the roof and rent being unafforadable now, we had no choice but to hand in our notice and leave. We didnt know where to go, this was the second time this had happened. All we could think of was moving into the van, but it was far from ready—just a floor, a bed and some insulation—so the old builder’s walls had to go back up to protect what little we had done. We set up a camp bed for Theo, and moved in with the bare minimum: a desk, a few modular shelves on wheels, and a cooker. That was it. It was tough. We were going to stay in the area so Theo could keep attending school, but he was let down by the teachers time and time again after bullying had become so bad. We decided to remove him from school and try out homeschooling!  Instead of letting it break us, we hit the road. We travelled, made memories, and found joy in the smallest things, even when we had so little. We fell in love with the road and vanlife, and decided we would stay. We started to build as we went, using reclaimed wood, battery-powered tools, and a lot of determination. Piece by piece, our home began to take shape. Looking back now, I see those months as some of the hardest, but also the most defining—we proved to ourselves that no matter how heavy life feels, together we can push through anything. 

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Life in those early days was far from glamorous, but it was real—and it was ours. Every squeaky screw, every late-night brainstorm, and every tiny improvement felt like a victory. We quickly learned that vanlife wasn’t just about having a cosy little home on wheels, it was about resilience and resourcefulness. Some days we were exhausted, other days we were buzzing with excitement, but through it all we were together—navigating the chaos side by side. Theo adapted in his own way too, finding joy in the little adventures, from waking up in new places to helping us with tools. It wasn’t perfect, but the imperfections became part of our story, shaping us into a stronger team and reminding us that sometimes the hardest chapters lead to the most rewarding ones.