Tunnel vision: Survival tales from Barefoot’s epic family adventure

Barefoot’s back after traversing Europe with his family in a six-berth motorhome and says he learned a lot about himself as a husband, father and leader in pressure cooker moments.

Late last year we got back from our latest family adventure.

We spent three-and-a-half months travelling through Europe in a motorhome.

Just writing that last line makes it sound very … Instagram influencer … #bestlife!

So let’s rip off the filter, starting on day three of the trip in the Swiss Alps.

Like all good horror movies, this one began innocently enough:

Liz jumped into the motorhome and sang:

“We’re heading to Italy today … who’s ready to have some gel-a-t-oooo!?”

(I personally think she came out a little early with this carrot … after all, we had a boring six-hour drive ahead of us, mainly in dark tunnels through the Swiss Alps.)

After about half an hour driving up what seemed to be a gigantic mountain, I nervously turned to Liz and said, “The tunnels … they’ll come soon … right?”

“Ummm”, she said, starting to bite her lower lip.

Uh-oh.

Our kids picked up on the tension in the cabin, and dutifully pressed ‘go’.

My two-year-old began totally teeing off, thrashing about in his car seat trying to escape like a drunk bogan being kicked out of the cricket, screaming “I want to go back to the farm NOW!”

My five-year-old, who’d been quiet for the entire morning, suddenly announced she was feeling dizzy (altitude sickness) and began chundering into a chip packet.

My seven-year-old started screaming at her, “Do you know how DISGUSTING you are?!”

While my 10-year-old sat reading Harry Potter, oblivious to the carnage surrounding him.

And then as we approached the top of the highest mountain peak … it happened.

“There’s a tunnel up ahead”, I cried to Liz.

A bright red road sign above the tunnel read:

“WARNING: LOW TUNNEL 3.2 METRES.”

And that was a problem, because the sticker on my windscreen read:

“WARNING: MOTORHOME HEIGHT 3.5 METRES.”

Scott Pape travelled around Europe with his family last year. Picture: Jason Edwards

And so there we were, on the top of the Swiss Alps, literally on a cliff face, on a road so narrow you couldn’t turn a Vespa, let alone a 3.5-metre-high FIAT motorhome.

Calming myself, I hit the hazard lights, came to a gentle stop, turned to the kids, and started screaming at the top of my lungs, “STOP SCREAMING!”

Then I looked in my side mirror. There were now at least 25 cars banked up behind me, tooting and repeatedly yelling “FICK DICH!” at me.

It’s in pressure cooker moments like these that you work out the sort of husband, father and leader you really are. So I took a deep breath, turned to Liz and said:

“Get out.”

She nodded, and dutifully walked through the dark tunnel into oncoming traffic … flagging down cars, trucks and buses with nothing more than mum energy.

A few moments later she emerged back through the tunnel and gave me the thumbs up.

So hot.

And so, with the cabin now dead silent, we crept through the centre of the tunnel – missing the top of the roof by no more than Peter Dutton’s fringe.

We made it!

Did things get better?

You bet they did: this was after all a trip of a lifetime.

What made the biggest impact on us?

Well, it wasn’t the major must-sees:

The Mona Lisa: “It’s pretty small, Dad.”

The Eiffel Tower: “It’s too big, there’s no way I’m going up that many stairs.”

The Trevi Fountain: “It’s kinda like the one in Bendigo.”

Rather, it was the tiny towns and villages we visited:

You see, Italy is very rancho relaxo.

They work to live, not the other way around (like we do).

All the shops close down at lunchtime and everyone goes home for a few hours to relax and spend time with their family. And then in the evenings the old people gather in the town square and play cards, talk, and enjoy a vino while all around them their kids, grandkids and great grandkids play.

We quickly became part of the community. The little Italian nonnas at our local espresso bar would whisk my blond two-year-old away and play with him. After a few espressos, and some Nutella-filled pastries, I’d go and find him. “Is he being annoying?” I’d ask.

They’d smile and say …

“Scialla.” (Don’t stress.)

Tread Your Own Path!

Scott Pape and his family travelled through Switzerland during their epic family trip.

I haven’t checked my inbox in six months. There are a *lot* of emails. The one that follows was sent back in June …

Rethink the six-berth motorhome

Dear Barefoot,

I’ve loved your advice and guidance over the years. You’ve gotten me from knowing nothing about money management, and having a crappy Westpac account charging $5 monthly account fees, all the way to having $30,000 in index-based ETFs. Normally, you’re the one giving advice, but now those tables are turnin’. I heard about you planning an epic road trip with your fam, and that sounds AMAZING. But I also heard about how you’re going to do it. Barefoot, I love you, and don’t want you to die. That’s why you should definitely rethink driving a six-berth motorhome around Europe! The roads are chaotic, and I struggled driving in a little hatchback, so I can’t imagine doing it in a huge motorhome. If you insist, though, I hope you have Vin Diesel’s driving skills. Just don’t drive in and around the major cities – only use the motorhome to travel city to city. Anyway, stay safe and enjoy your trip – I can’t wait to hear all about it. Hopefully you’ll be back in one piece to tell the tale.

Christian

Scott Pape and his family travelled around Europe in a six-berth motorhome.

Hi Christian,

This would have been handy to know before I left.

It was everything you described and more. So. Much. More.

Sicily was like Grand Theft Auto. Rome was hot, as in literally – we didn’t have airconditioning and it hit 50 degrees inside the motorhome, with the six of us.

I’ve actually been back for a while now (my editor was going to send out a search party). However, I’ve spent the last month or so down in the back paddock in front of a fire, in a foetal position, rocking back and forth.

Could you ... would you?

Hi Scott,

Thank you so much for your amazing money concept for kids. I am a School Chaplain at a low socio-economic school in Tamworth, NSW. I have run with your book idea with some Year 6 students. We found an opportunity to earn money and pay it back to the school through making cards for the Mother’s Day and Father’s Day stalls. I am looking at enthusing the next card-making crew to pick up the mantle next year. These guys are so committed. I was wondering if you might be generous enough to shout them a copy of your book so we can present it to them at their Year 6 formal.

Belinda

Scott Pape’s Barefoot Kids became a bestseller.

Hey Belinda

This warms my heart.

I’ve tried so hard to get this message into schools, and the fact that your kids have embraced it is awesome. I hope they enjoyed their signed books.

DISCLAIMER: Information and opinions provided in this column are general in nature and have been prepared for educational purposes only. Always seek personal financial advice tailored to your specific needs before making financial and investment decisions.