Back in 2017 I needed to get from Scotland to Spain, with boxes and pets. Camperhomes, even before the popularity surge caused by Covid, were alarmingly expensive. I chased up a cheap van in Glasgow because I couldn’t understand how it could be so, well, cheap. The seller described it as a day van, a bit apologetically. I looked blank and he said well, a weekend van. Or an event van. He took his, he said, to dog shows.  You couldn’t LIVE in it.  

I did, for 8 weeks, but because I was travelling alone I was staying at campsites anyway: loos, showers, and washing machines were part of the campsite package and so far as transporting me and my pets and several boxes of needed-on-voyage stuff went, it was perfect. I miss it so much that I started looking for another this year. Day van is not a known description in Spain (not that well known in the UK, for that matter) but although they have lots of the type, there’s no other name, either.  I tutted at myself and tried siesta van, which seemed the obvious Spanish name. Nope.

We’re talking about a van without built-in plumbing, really, although the definition is fairly fluid. It has a bed, and a fridge, those are important, and a leisure battery with at least one plug point. Talking of plug points, it should link to campsite (or dog show) electricity points, then you aren’t relying solely on the leisure battery. Cooking facilities are usually camping type. A porta-potty – maybe even a mini sink with a foot-pump and bottles of water  (well, mine did) but not a shower.  Not a lot of fancy. “Siesta van” works for me. Time to get the name out there, to help me search …

Insulation would be a definite plus, on my check list. Having windows, big yes, and a skylight, bonus.  I can source my own portable toilet if there isn’t one. Adding a sink and hot water and a water pump, yes worth having – eventually if not immediately. But basically a van that supports your hobbies, and interests, keeps you comfortable and secure, gets you there and back, has a little comfort for excursions.  

Don’t get me wrong, not dissing those motorhomes which cost more than a holiday apartment – what can be fitted into those is eye-popping, if sometimes a little cramped. The features you get! The price you pay!

·         I don’t need solar panels and storage batteries and inverters and fancy dials to monitor them, because I won’t be going off-grid more than my leisure battery can handle.

·          I don’t want a shower. I love showering, the longer the better, but to meet my shower needs a van (or motorhome) would have to drag its own water tanker around.  Most on-grid campers I’ve spoken to don’t use theirs – they’d rather grab their flip-flops and go use campsite ones, or gym ones, for exactly that reason. So the fab shower which pushed their camper price up by thousands is often just a fancy cupboard, or a place to hang wet clothes.  

·         The ability to sleep several people of differing sizes, don’t need that.     

·         Enough storage to have every season’s wardrobe on tap, well, uh, no. I go home between excursions.

Paying for those, if you need them, no-brainer. But perhaps you, like me, only need a bed. And blackout blinds. And room to store a bit of food, and some changes of clothes. A 3 way fridge – nothing worse than waking up all hot after a siesta and nothing cold to drink.  We’re not living off grid for six months at a time, it can be pretty simple. I don’t personally need a bike rack, or to store surf-boards, but some vans have them. They’ve got the space – because they didn’t  waste space on a shower –  

I thought I’d found just the job, but I found it in the UK and brought it to Spain and, well, that’s causing issues. I’ll probably blog a bit about the learning curve because then maybe people will chip in with ideas of the must-have features for the perfect, ideal, budget-friendly, siesta van. Deal?