DUBBED OUT CAMPOUT 2026

Three Transporters. Three air awnings. Two gazebos. Torque. Frostina. And a rapidly disappearing concept called “packing light”.

There are campervan weekends where I throw a few things into Vanilla, point her towards a campsite and see what happens.

This is not going to be one of those weekends.

From Friday 25th to Sunday 27th September 2026, I’m heading to Dubbed Out Camp Out at Hooton Lodge Farm, Rotherham, for what is officially a relaxed family camping weekend and what, judging by our packing plans, may accidentally become the establishment of a small independent Volkswagen republic. 😂🚐

The official weekend runs from 11am Friday until 2pm Sunday. Hooton Lodge has toilets, showers and an Elsan point, but there’s no electric hook-up, so this is exactly the sort of weekend Vanilla’s upgraded off-grid system was built for.

And I won’t be rolling in alone.

This time there are three of us bringing three very different Transporters.

There’s Vanilla.

There’s Jon.

There’s Paul and Jackie.

And between us we appear to have packed enough inflatable accommodation to host a minor international summit.

Welcome to NIX BASECAMP // DUBBED OUT 2026. 🩶🧡🖤🤍

Vanilla is obviously leading the NIX contingent.

My Indium Grey SWB Volkswagen T6.1 will be there wearing the grey-and-orange NIX look that has become such a big part of her identity.

If everything goes according to plan beforehand, she’ll be rolling into Dubbed Out wearing her new champagne-gold Leighton LV4 17-inch wheels, General Grabber AT3 235/65 R17 tyres and those beautifully unnecessary but absolutely essential orange brake calipers.

Necessary?

Debatable.

Worth it?

Don’t ask silly questions. 😂

Next to Vanilla will be Jon Rushworth’s black LWB T6.

Jon’s van brings something Vanilla fundamentally cannot manufacture.

Length.

It’s a long-wheelbase T6, black, and I suspect once it is parked up beside everything else it will look slightly like security has arrived to protect the beer.

Then there’s Paul and Jackie’s white SWB T5.

And that gives us what should be a fantastic-looking little trio:

Indium Grey. Black. White.

With NIX orange scattered through the middle.

It could look wonderfully coordinated.

Almost certainly by accident.

📸 PHOTO MOMENT: all three vans parked together before anything gets inflated. Clean vans, clear grass, doors shut, no camping debris yet. This may be the only point all weekend when the scene looks remotely controlled.

This is where things escalate.

All three vans are bringing proper inflatable awnings.

Not a little sun canopy.

Not a tarpaulin tied to a broom handle.

Full air awnings.

So we already have:

Vanilla + awning.

Jon’s T6 + awning.

Paul and Jackie’s T5 + awning.

Perfectly reasonable.

Then I decided I’m taking my inflatable gazebo.

Still manageable.

Then Paul and Jackie mentioned that they’re bringing their blue inflatable gazebo.

And suddenly the campsite plan began resembling an architectural drawing.

There will be three vans, three substantial awnings and two gazebos.

Five inflatable structures.

Five.

We may need to notify local air-traffic control before turning the pumps on.

The layout I want is simple in principle.

A big horseshoe.

Vanilla takes one side.

Jon’s black LWB T6 takes the opposite side.

Paul and Jackie’s white T5 closes the top.

Then all three awnings face inwards towards the communal area.

That should give each van its own sheltered living space while keeping the whole group connected rather than creating three separate camps that happen to share a postcode.

In the centre go the two gazebos.

Paul and Jackie’s blue gazebo immediately adds some colour and should work brilliantly as one half of the central hub.

My gazebo becomes the other.

And rather than both simply containing six chairs and somebody’s abandoned coat, I think they need departments.

One becomes:

Cooking bits.

Kettle.

Coffee.

Breakfast.

Snacks.

General camp admin.

The sort of place where someone walks in looking for a teaspoon and returns fifteen minutes later carrying a torch, two biscuits and no teaspoon.

The second becomes:

And this is where the weekend begins to reach peak civilisation.

Frostina is absolutely coming.

My portable fridge/freezer has one very specific assignment for Dubbed Out:

KEEP. THE. BEER. COLD.

That’s it.

No vegetables.

No yoghurt.

No salad leaves cluttering up valuable refrigeration real estate.

Beer.

Possibly some other drinks if they behave themselves.

Vanilla already has her built-in fridge for food, so Frostina can become the dedicated NIX field bar refrigeration department.

I’ll pre-chill her before leaving, pre-chill the drinks as well and then run her from the off-grid system.

She can sit under the gazebo, protected from direct sunlight, close enough that everybody can reach her without repeatedly climbing into Vanilla.

This is important.

There is nothing relaxing about a peaceful campervan evening if somebody opens your sliding door every four minutes saying:

“Just getting another one.”

Frostina solves this.

Technology improving human civilisation one chilled can at a time.

I also predict that by Saturday evening nobody will refer to her as “the fridge”.

It will simply be:

“Where’s Frostina?”

Which is how legends begin.

🔋☀️ NO EHU? EXCELLENT.

The official Dubbed Out weekend is no electric hook-up, which actually makes me more interested rather than less.

Because Vanilla is now properly set up for exactly this.

The 200W PV Logic solar panel sits on the roof.

The Victron SmartSolar MPPT 75/15 manages it.

The leisure battery sits underneath everything.

The SmartShunt tells me exactly what is going on.

And then there are the Jackerys.

Plenty of portable power.

So this weekend I don’t want to artificially nurse the system.

That isn’t the test.

I want to use Vanilla normally.

Fridge on.

Frostina on.

Phones charging.

Action cameras charging.

Lighting being used.

Coffee happening.

Whatever else needs electricity getting electricity.

I’ve spent the last few weeks experimenting with the new solar installation and it has already massively impressed me.

Now we take it into a busy social camping weekend.

No EHU.

Late September.

More loads than usual.

That is useful information.

What I absolutely will not be doing is sitting silently under the awning at 8:30pm saying:

“Nobody move. Somebody has just used 11 watts.”

That isn’t off-grid camping.

That is an electrical hostage negotiation.

Because apparently the correct response to having too much equipment is to add an electric mountain bike.

Torque is coming to Dubbed Out.

My Scott Aspect eRIDE 910, Bosch-powered, 600Wh-battery-equipped, orange-detailed trail machine is going on the back of Vanilla.

And I’m really pleased about that.

The great thing about having Torque with me is that once camp is built I don’t have to move Vanilla again.

If Saturday morning gives us decent weather, I can get the bike down, stick the helmet on, mount the DJI Action 4 and head out exploring.

That combination of campervan and e-bike just works.

Vanilla gets me to the area.

Torque lets me properly explore it.

Then I come back to basecamp.

Bike parked.

Camera footage downloaded.

Coffee made.

And later, Frostina handles the complicated second phase of sports recovery.

Very advanced training methodology.

I’m expecting the ride to begin with:

“I’ll just do a quick gentle spin.”

That normally lasts until the Bosch Performance Line CX wakes up.

An hour later I’ll probably appear back at camp covered in mud saying:

“Honestly, it was mostly flat.”

Nobody will believe me.

Including me.

📸 PHOTO MOMENT: Torque parked beside Vanilla with the whole three-van camp behind it. ROAD + TRAIL in one picture.

🎥 BEFORE WE GO: WHAT DOES DUBBED OUT AT HOOTON LODGE ACTUALLY LOOK LIKE?

This video from Urban Monkey Adventures gives a brilliant flavour of a previous Dubbed Out Community Camp Out at Hooton Lodge, with hundreds of vans and exactly the kind of atmosphere I’m looking forward to.

And this is where watching YouTube becomes financially dangerous.

You start innocently looking at a campervan weekend.

Then you see somebody’s wheels.

Then their lights.

Then their suspension.

Then a particularly clever storage system.

Twenty minutes later you have seven browser tabs open and are whispering:

“Vanilla would look good with that.”

This hobby should come with parental controls for adults.

Friday is where the whole plan either comes together beautifully or becomes three people messaging:

“Where are you?”

We want to pitch together.

So I want all three vans assembled before we enter.

No lone outrider.

No heroic attempt to reserve half a field using two camping chairs.

No:

“Don’t worry, I’ll save you somewhere.”

Those words have caused more camping grief than rain.

Instead, we meet somewhere nearby.

Vanilla arrives.

Jon arrives.

Paul and Jackie arrive.

Quick chat.

Final toilet stop.

Someone asks whether everyone remembered their ticket.

Someone briefly looks terrified.

Then somebody finds it.

And we roll in as a three-van convoy.

Grey T6.1.

Black LWB T6.

White T5.

That arrival itself deserves filming.

🎥 ACTION 4 SHOT: rear-facing footage of the convoy entering Hooton Lodge.

The official September event starts at 11am Friday, so I’d rather arrive around opening time and have plenty of daylight to get the whole operation assembled.

Because there is assembling.

And then there is what we are doing.

Step one:

Park vans.

Step two:

Check everyone is happy with orientation.

Step three:

Do not move them again because somebody has already started unloading.

Step four:

Stand around for five minutes discussing whether we should have parked them differently.

Traditional.

Then the pumps come out.

Vanilla’s awning.

Jon’s awning.

Paul and Jackie’s awning.

Gazebo number one.

Blue gazebo number two.

By structure number four, I fully expect us to have the efficiency of a Formula 1 pit crew.

Or the physical enthusiasm of people who have just realised they still have forty-seven pegs to hammer in.

The objective is to keep the central area open and sociable.

Awnings around the edge.

Gazebos towards the centre.

Chairs positioned sensibly.

Tables up.

Frostina deployed.

Power connected.

Coffee.

Possibly beer.

Depends how well construction went.

The bit I really want to get right is the space between everything.

Not cluttered.

Not every square metre occupied.

An actual courtyard.

Somewhere everyone naturally drifts into.

A few chairs.

Small tables.

Perhaps a firepit if appropriate.

The gazebos nearby.

The three awnings around us.

And three Transporters forming the outer walls.

That is the picture I have in my head.

Not a campsite.

Not a display.

A little weekend neighbourhood.

The vans provide the infrastructure.

The people create the atmosphere.

And if the weather turns nasty, everyone retreats about twelve feet into one of five inflatable buildings.

We have options.

Possibly too many options.

This should be the moment the work pays off.

Everything finally inflated.

Pegs hammered in.

Storm straps secure.

Torque locked up.

Frostina cold.

Lights starting to glow under the awnings.

Beer opened.

Food appearing.

And everyone finally sitting down.

This is why I love van weekends.

There is a strange point where a completely ordinary piece of grass becomes home.

An hour earlier it was empty.

Then you put a van there.

Then an awning.

Then chairs.

Then a table.

A light goes on.

Someone hands you a drink.

Suddenly you have a front room.

Only the front room has wheels, grass and a chap twenty yards away polishing his T5.

Perfect.

🔥 THE FIREPIT, THE CLOCK AND BEHAVING OURSELVES

The September event allows sensible off-the-ground firepits, but the official rules say they must be extinguished by 11pm. Music on the campsite is also meant to be off by 9pm, because this is a family camping weekend rather than Glastonbury with Transporters.

Fine by me.

We don’t need a nightclub.

We’ve got Frostina.

Besides, by late evening we’ll probably be discussing tyre pressures, solar controllers and awnings.

No amplified music could compete with that level of excitement.

This is when I think the camp will look best.

Vanilla’s dark grey paint.

Orange details catching the lights.

Jon’s black T6 almost disappearing into the evening.

Paul and Jackie’s white T5 picking up every bit of ambient light.

The blue gazebo adding a splash of colour.

Warm light coming from the awnings.

Maybe a little mist from the cooling air.

Chairs in the centre.

Frostina glowing away beneath the canopy.

Torque silhouetted beside Vanilla.

That has NIX hero shot written all over it.

I want some photographs while there is still blue in the sky, not complete darkness.

That ten or fifteen-minute period between daylight and night.

Lights on.

Sky still visible.

That is the money shot.

📸 PHOTO MOMENT: wide low shot through the central courtyard towards Vanilla.

📸 PHOTO MOMENT: overhead drone-style camp layout if permitted and appropriate.

📸 PHOTO MOMENT: Frostina open with the drinks glowing inside. Ridiculously cinematic beer photography. Why not?

Saturday morning at a campsite tells the truth about Friday night.

There will be silence.

Then a zip.

Another zip.

Somebody walking past in shorts despite it being approximately nine degrees.

A kettle starts.

Someone emerges looking suspiciously energetic.

Someone else emerges looking like Windows is installing updates.

Coffee becomes the international peacekeeping force.

The gazebos will contain evidence.

Half a packet of crisps.

A mysteriously displaced camping chair.

Several empty glasses.

One glove.

Nobody will know who owns the glove.

Frostina, meanwhile, will be sitting there entirely innocent.

She only supplied the materials.

I’m not trying to create a Michelin kitchen.

Saturday breakfast needs to be proper campervan food.

Hot.

Easy.

Plentiful.

Coffee first.

Then something involving bacon, eggs, sausage or whatever happens to appear from three campervan fridges.

Everyone will claim they brought too much food.

By Saturday lunchtime almost all the good stuff will have vanished.

That is campsite economics.

And it will all taste approximately 43% better simply because it was cooked outside.

I cannot explain that scientifically.

It is just a fact of campervan life.

Once breakfast has settled and assuming the weather is decent, I want to get Torque out.

Battery checked.

Tyres checked.

Action 4 fitted.

Helmet on.

Then out exploring.

Nothing heroic.

This is a social weekend, not an attempt on Everest.

But getting away from the camp for an hour or two gives me another side to the story.

Trail.

Road.

Local scenery.

The ride back towards the campsite.

Then that lovely moment where the vans appear again.

That is the shot.

And because Torque is electric, I can wander further without turning the ride into an expedition.

Bosch assistance is a marvellous invention.

Particularly when you have told everyone:

“I’ll only be half an hour.”

The Action 4 needs to earn its keep here.

Handlebar footage.

A bit of trail.

A few road transitions.

Stopping somewhere scenic.

Torque against the landscape.

Then returning into Hooton Lodge and rolling back into our camp.

The film practically edits itself:

VANILLA → CAMP → TORQUE → RIDE → BASECAMP → BEER.

Christopher Nolan has nothing to worry about.

For now.

Then comes one of my favourite parts.

Walking around looking at everybody else’s campervans.

This is deeply dangerous behaviour.

Because nobody walks around a VW gathering and simply admires things.

We conduct research.

“Look at that table.”

“That storage system is clever.”

“What wheels are those?”

“Have you seen those headlights?”

“Where did they get that?”

“Do I need one?”

No.

You absolutely do not need one.

You are going to buy one anyway.

Previous Hooton Lodge Dubbed Out weekends have attracted very large numbers of campervans, with Dubbed Out themselves describing some gatherings as being mistaken for mini-festivals.

So there should be plenty to look at.

And plenty of ways to bankrupt myself slowly in £29.99 increments.

🎥 VIDEO BREAK // A BIGGER TASTE OF DUBBED OUT

Van Vibes & Sibes filmed their 2024 Dubbed Out Festival weekend in a VW Transporter, including the arrival, exploring and the live-event atmosphere. It’s the larger festival rather than this Hooton Lodge campout, but it gives a good taste of the wider Dubbed Out community.

Watching other people attend VW weekends should technically count as preparation.

I will be using this argument whenever questioned.

I do not want to come home from this weekend with 600 photographs that all basically show the front corner of a Transporter.

I’ve done enough of that.

This time I want a story.

The convoy.

The empty pitch.

The setup.

Inflating the awnings.

The camp half finished.

The finished basecamp.

Frostina.

Torque.

Friday evening.

Saturday morning.

The crowds.

Interesting vans.

The bike ride.

People relaxing.

The golden-hour camp.

Night mode.

Sunday packing.

And finally the empty grass where our little village used to be.

Beginning.

Middle.

End.

That’s the NIX story.

I think the colour combination is going to be one of the things that makes this camp photograph so well.

Vanilla is not just grey anymore.

The orange NIX identity gives her a very distinct look.

Then Jon’s black LWB brings that solid dark block alongside.

Paul and Jackie’s white T5 lifts the whole scene.

Put those around a courtyard with a blue gazebo and dark camping kit, and it should look superb from above.

Especially once everything is lit.

It’s almost as if we planned the colour palette.

We absolutely did not.

But I’m happy to take the credit.

The blue gazebo deserves a mention because in the photographs it is going to be impossible to miss.

And that’s a good thing.

Against grey, black, white and green grass, that big blue roof becomes a visual marker right in the middle of camp.

I can already imagine someone trying to find us later:

“Where are you camped?”

“Three VWs, massive blue gazebo, grey van with orange bits.”

“Yep. Found you.”

Navigation solved.

Forget What3Words.

We have What3Awnings.

Vanilla is more than somewhere I sleep on weekends like this.

She becomes the infrastructure.

Power.

Food.

Storage.

Heat.

Transport.

Bike carrier.

Camera charging station.

Bedroom.

Kitchen.

And emergency retreat if Yorkshire decides September needs horizontal rain.

That is why all the upgrades matter.

Solar panels and controllers are not particularly glamorous when you are fitting them.

Neither are batteries, cables or shunts.

But when you can spend an entire weekend away, run your kit normally and barely think about electricity, suddenly all that invisible work makes sense.

That is the magic bit.

Good campervan systems disappear.

They just work.

🌧️ AND IF IT RAINS?

We laugh.

Look at what we’re bringing.

We have three air awnings and two inflatable gazebos.

There are small garden centres with less covered floor area.

If it rains, the weekend simply moves indoors.

We’ll probably have sufficient sheltered space to establish separate postcode districts.

NIX BAR.

NIX KITCHEN.

Jonshire.

Paul & Jackie Central.

Vanilla Administrative Region.

The only genuine enemy will be strong wind.

Which is why the proper pegs, storm straps and mallet matter.

Nobody wants to be halfway through a conversation and watch their gazebo set off towards Doncaster.

Camping mallets deserve more respect.

You can spend thousands on campervan technology.

Solar.

Lithium.

Victron.

Jackery.

Bosch motors.

Action cameras.

Then your entire weekend can hinge upon a £9 lump of plastic because one peg has encountered a stone.

Every campsite eventually contains one man hitting a peg much harder than necessary while insisting:

“Nearly there.”

I intend to uphold this tradition.

By Saturday evening the setup should feel completely established.

Nobody wondering where things go.

Everybody knows where the chairs are.

Everybody knows where the food is.

Everyone definitely knows where Frostina is.

This is when the weekend properly settles.

The vans will be lit.

The bike will be back.

Photos captured.

Dinner underway.

Cold beer ready.

A full day of walking around campervans behind us.

And that lovely feeling that there is nowhere else we need to be.

No driving.

No schedule.

No alarm.

Just camp.

Those are the evenings I bought Vanilla for.

Campervan conversations operate according to their own laws.

At some point somebody will say:

“What tyre pressures are you running?”

This will trigger 25 minutes of discussion.

Someone will mention diesel heaters.

Another 20 minutes.

Someone says:

“I’ve been thinking about upgrading my solar.”

Cancel the evening.

We are now holding a technical conference.

Eventually the conversation will return to normal life.

Approximately four minutes later somebody notices a van with nice wheels and it all starts again.

Wonderful.

The official campsite rule says music should be off at 9pm.

Fortunately we’re all perfectly capable of entertaining ourselves.

There will be no need for massive speakers.

If things get desperate I can always explain the full specifications of Vanilla’s solar system.

That should clear the gazebo by 9:07.

☀️ SUNDAY MORNING // WHERE DID THE WEEKEND GO?

And then suddenly it will be Sunday.

This always happens far too quickly.

Friday feels enormous.

Saturday disappears.

Then someone says:

“What time are we packing up?”

Nobody wants to be the person who said it.

But once it has been spoken, the spell is broken.

Chairs begin folding.

Tables disappear.

Cables get unplugged.

Bags appear.

And all five of our inflatable buildings face the same fate.

Deflation.

This should be significantly faster than Friday.

In theory.

Air awnings are magnificent things.

One minute you have a substantial room.

Open one valve and suddenly the building has lost the will to live.

The gazebos collapse.

The awnings collapse.

Everything gets rolled.

Someone insists theirs definitely fitted into the bag more easily at home.

Three adults kneel on it.

Eventually the zip closes.

Victory.

Then you discover one peg still in the ground.

Camping.

One thing I really like about the Dubbed Out ethos is that these are community camping weekends.

That means leaving the pitch right.

Previous Dubbed Out reports have specifically praised campers for leaving Hooton Lodge clean after the weekend.

That is exactly how it should be.

Rubbish out.

Peg check.

Cable-tie check.

Bottle-top check.

Nothing left behind.

Apart from a suspiciously square patch of flattened grass showing that for 48 hours there used to be a small settlement there.

Torque goes back onto Vanilla.

Straps checked.

Battery secure.

Action 4 packed.

Frostina unplugged.

Jackerys stowed.

Awning away.

Gazebo away.

Final van check.

Doors shut.

Then that slightly strange moment where the pitch is empty again.

It always fascinates me.

For two days it becomes your home.

Then ten minutes later there is almost no evidence you were ever there.

That deserves the final photograph.

Then the three vans head out.

Maybe together for part of the journey.

Maybe different directions later.

But with another weekend in the bank.

More photos.

More footage.

More stories.

Probably more campervan upgrade ideas than anyone financially needs.

And, if everything works properly, three vans that have spent the weekend doing exactly what they were converted to do.

Being used.

Not sitting polished on driveways.

Not being saved for some imaginary perfect trip.

Out there.

Camped.

Muddy.

Powered.

Lived in.

That matters to me.

I’m taking a ridiculous amount of equipment.

That is obvious.

But the equipment is not really why I’m going.

I’m going because weekends like this create memories almost by accident.

The convoy.

Building camp together.

Someone laughing because an awning is facing the wrong way.

The first beer.

Saturday breakfast.

A ride on Torque.

Finding a brilliant van.

Coming back to basecamp.

The light changing in the evening.

A conversation that starts at seven and somehow ends three hours later.

That is what sticks.

Years later I probably won’t remember whether the leisure battery was sitting at 12.8 or 12.9 volts.

I’ll remember the three vans in a horseshoe with everyone sitting in the middle.

That’s the point.

• 🩶🧡 Vanilla: Indium Grey SWB T6.1
• 🖤 Jon Rushworth: black LWB T6
• 🤍 Paul & Jackie: white SWB T5
• ⛺ Three proper inflatable awnings
• ⛺ My inflatable gazebo
• 🔵 Paul & Jackie’s blue inflatable gazebo
• ❄️ Frostina, dedicated beer department
• 🚲⚡ Torque, Scott Aspect eRIDE 910
• 🎥 DJI Action 4
• 📸 NIX cameras
• ☀️ 200W solar
• 🔋 Victron + Jackery power
• 🍺 Beer
• ☕ Coffee
• 🪑 Enough chairs to establish local government
• 🔨 Mallet
• 🧡 NIX orange everywhere possible
• 😂 Common sense packed somewhere underneath all of it

Friday 25 September → Sunday 27 September 2026 Hooton Lodge Farm, Rotherham, S65 4TE

The official ticket covers two nights for the campervan and awning, with the weekend running from Friday morning to Sunday afternoon. Facilities include toilets, showers and an Elsan point, with no EHU on the camping ticket.

Vanilla gets us there.

Torque takes me exploring.

Solar keeps everything alive.

Frostina keeps civilisation cold.

Jon brings the long-wheelbase muscle.

Paul and Jackie bring the white T5 and the unmistakable blue gazebo.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, three campervans and a mountain of inflatable fabric become home for a weekend.

Next stop: Dubbed Out. 🚐🔥🩶🧡

And I genuinely cannot decide what I’m more excited about…

the vans,

the camp,

the bike,

the atmosphere,

or opening Frostina on Friday evening and hearing that beautiful little psssst.

I can.