There are many ways of moving to Spain. Turning up with a suit case, getting a professional removals to move you life long possessions etc etc.

On paper hiring a small lorry, loading it and driving down seems simple enough. This was the option I took, along with returning the lorry and driving back over in my prized toy, which seemed ideal for Spain, a hard top convertible Mercedes.

Some might be put of hiring a lorry and driving it over by the extra expense incurred with ferry crossings etc.

Believe it or not, a 7.5 ton lorry goes on a ferry classed as a van. Its worth checking with the ferry operators to confirm this. But this is what we found through our own experience. No need to join the lorry que at the ferry terminal either, just drive along the same route as the cars into the ferry terminal. Fuel wise 15 to 20mpg fully loaded.

The lorry we used is pictured below

Loading the lorry went from being laid back to a mad rush after an hour unloading it looking for the keys. My dog also decided to take himself for walk at one stage while every one thought someone else was keeping an eye on him. Someone else was also to blame for the keys to the truck going missing

Luck was on our side when we got to Dover for the ferry crossing. December 2006 was a time when the channel got shut to to bad weather conditions. We were on the first ferry over when they reopened it.

Several lessons were learnt within the first four hours in France. One don't trust the navigator, two teach the navigator to read a map and three beat the navigator when you go wrong and their re route gets you even more lost.

Also remember to learn to use your spare gps system, if its the only one with maps of France loaded into it.

We decided to drive through France at night, one being its full of French and two, its full of French. Oh and I also think its a shit hole.

A trick to driving through France, try and do it when its open. France shuts for large portions of the day and night. Petrol stations tend to open the same times as the rest of France.

So now you have probably guessed, we are using gps due to the navigator not being able to read road maps. We decided to try and stick to the a roads rather than the motorways and toll roads. The gps at this stage decided b roads were more suitable for a lorry to drive along. I am sure we went through the same villages about twenty times along with waking the silently sleeping occupants.

For several hours not seeing a petrol station seemed of no worry at all. By the time the red warning light came on, it was more of a worry. The gps suddenly decided it had a hidden secret and could find a petrol station if you beat it in the right order. Over the navigators head seemed a good idea at one point.

From this point in we decided to stick to the toll roads. Petrol stations plus big signs made navigation and fuel easy. A quick stop in a lay by for an hours sleep followed by chocky bars and red bull was sufficient for the next 24hrs.

The chocolate bars are used for energy and the red bull to keep you awake. This is a trick I would use when working long hours on call in the UK.

Being used to buying cigarettes in petrol stations in the UK, running low was not worry until I found you cant buy them in petrol stations in Spain. My revenge was had on the navigator, because I was now reduced to smoking cigars for the rest of the journey.

Barcelona is a very pretty city to get lost in. Even more so when you are going through some long tunnel, no gps reception and a navigator with no idea where you are.

By the time we eventually got to Catral, the drive 2 hours and have a break was well and truly out the window. We were driving until we needed fuel, food or a bog stop. This was about five hours between breaks.

My dog was curled up between me and the navigator for the whole trip. The odd sigh followed by a treat and he was good as gold.

The first lesson my dog taught himself on arrival in Spain. Cocker Spaniels do not walk on water, even if the water is covered with a pool cover. Needless to say, there was a rush to retrieve him as he went into frozen stand mode while sinking a few feet in from the edge.

A few days unloading and relaxing at my new home were followed by the return drive.



A new route was chosen being shorter and in theory quicker. We were getting better at not getting lost so much and all went well until we crossed the border into France.

Some nice French customs officials decided they better check the lorry and its contents. This included looking like they had a rubber glove fetish, luckily they never did any bodily examinations. The lorry being measured inside, out side, top to bottom and all our bag contents checked. An hour later and we were back on our way. The driving times went from 2 hours and a stop to driving until the tank was empty again.

Yet again the channel had been shut and had just reopened when we made it to Calais.

And we also had our second encounter with French customs officers. The poor guy was determined he had some English booze cruise types to play with.

His face was a picture when the back was opened to show him a whole four crates of lager, sitting in an empty void. I wish I could understand the swear words he was muttering as the poor guy walked away. They could just be heard over my laughter.

Driving the A2 and M2 up from Dover to the Medway towns was a real come down after driving the quiet Spanish and French motorways and it made it sink in even more why I was so glad to be saying good bye to Blighty. I still see the mass of headlights and bumper to bumper traffic in my mind. Something I would never intentionally return to.

With all the excitement and driving across three countries, we made the lorry depot with half an hour to spare, before they shut for the night. Just the return trip in my car left