From the Fairfield Inn, Calgary, we’ve managed to get our first night’s campsite sorted, had a respectable meal at a nearby pub and we prepare to sleep. As I begin to drift off, a small, irritating cough sets in, interrupting my slumbers and making for a less than restful night.

In the morning we’ve a few hours left before we can collect our rental campervan from Cruise Canada, so having done our best to make tea in the plastic beakers, Husband suggests we try and get some mobile wifi working on our gadget, by visiting a nearby telecoms shop which is located in a central shopping mall. In France, we’ve become used to collecting a SIM card from Orange and it seem’s logical that we could have a similar arrangement, although by no means guaranteed.

We find the shopping mall and the store, where we draw a blank but are redirected, then redirected again to more telecoms stores. In the end we opt for a local SIM card in my phone, as nobody is able to get our gadget working. We return to the hotel where we pack up and order a taxi to the rental depot.

By the time we arrive at Cruise Canada I’ve begun to feel a little lethargic and under par. The depot is closed, presumably for lunch and we settle to wait on a bench facing the various vans and motorhomes, along with a German couple with whom we share plans. They have very wisely reserved their pitches from home, a strategy I now wish we’d adopted!

At last the place opens and soon we’re wading through pages of paperwork and agreements before being taken to ‘our’ van. We get a peremptory look along with stern warnings regarding emptying and cleaning prior to return, then we’re directed to fetch our bedding packs from an adjoining store. Other than this, it’s left to us. Husband climbs into the driving seat to have a go- he can take the vehicle for a couple of circuits of the car park, but it’s easier said than done. ‘I thought you said you had your own camper’, the weary woman showing us observes. But this, this campervan is nothing like ours, as we are increasingly to discover…

I watch as Husband lurches the vehicle around the car park, then I get in and we exit the depot in search of a supermarket. It’s immediately clear that the van cannot/will not/does not drive in a straight line, rather swerves in unnerving lunges, making steering hard work. There are, allegedly, supermarkets around here…but where, exactly? We take a few turns and then backtrack a bit, my heart in my mouth as Husband juggles the idiosyncracies of the van, the unfamiliar roads and the traffic. Yikes!

On our way back down the road I do spot a grocery store, ‘Hello Fresh!’ and we pull in and park, much to my relief. Inside we pick up as much useful shopping as we can, stow it and make our way towards what is, hopefully, ‘Highway 1’. By some miracle we get on to it and begin to exit Calgary, back on the road we came by bus- and yes- I’m relieved to spot the Olympic Ski jump, now on the left as we go out of town.

Now to locate the camp site. It should be easy enough, shouldn’t it?

I have the location of the site on my phone, yes, but we’re unused to the distances of this vast country. Coupled with the wobbly nature of the van it leads to us overshooting our turn-off by quite a bit, as we discover when we stop at the First Nations’ casino and gas station to ask where on Earth the site is.

This results in a long trek back along the highway, then a meandering journey into the wilderness. This time I’m more trustful of my phone’s navigation and we follow the tiny dot, turning where indicated, then, EUREKA! We reach the site’s entrance and drive up a winding track, then we have, in fact, arrived. There’s a car park by a store, which also serves as reception where we check in. Phew! We’re also able to supplement the lamentable equipment in our household ‘kit’, which lacks, amongst other items, a kettle and a coffee pot.

The pitch we’ve been allocated is accessed by another long, winding lane; the site being arranged in ‘loops’ off the lane. It is massive, but we get there and park up in a kind of wooded cul-de-sac, where we are almost, but not quite, alone…

Like any typical British adult, I’m gagging for a cup of tea, so I fill a saucepan [as I said, no kettle] and attemp to ignite the gas ring…which solidly refuses to comply…Hmmm…

To find novels by Jane Deans, Grace’s alter ego, search Amazon, Waterstones, Goodreads and other book sites. The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend are widely available. Visit my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100063988575981