VANILLA GETS AN EXTENSION: THE VANGO FAROS AIR + FIAMMA SUPER SETUP

There are campervan accessories that are useful.

There are campervan accessories that are clever.

And then there are those rare bits of kit that completely change the way the van works.

My Vango Faros Air belongs firmly in that last category.

Because when I combine it with Vanilla’s Fiamma wind-out awning, I don’t simply gain an awning.

I gain a covered terrace, an extra room, a sleeping area, a weatherproof campsite base and, most importantly, I can still disconnect Vanilla and drive away.

This is basically campervan architecture.

Except the building folds into a bag. 🏕️🧡

The important thing about my setup is where the Faros sits.

It isn’t tucked directly against Vanilla.

The Fiamma winds fully out first.

That gives me the whole area immediately outside Vanilla’s sliding door as an open but completely covered canopy.

Then the Faros sits at the OUTER END of the Fiamma, right out by the awning support poles.

So viewed from the side, the layout is beautifully simple:

And that changes everything.

When I open Vanilla’s sliding door, I step out underneath the Fiamma.

I’m still outside, but I’m protected.

There is room for chairs.

A table.

Shoes.

Wet coats.

Cooking gear.

The obligatory cup of tea.

Probably several things I can’t remember packing.

And then, several feet away from the van at the outer edge of that canopy, I reach the Faros.

That becomes the enclosed room.

It’s a brilliant arrangement because the awning isn’t stealing the useful sheltered area immediately beside the campervan.

Instead, the Fiamma creates a genuine outdoor living space BETWEEN Vanilla and the Faros.

It turns one awning into two completely different camping environments.

Vanilla already has a Fiamma cassette awning mounted along her side.

Normally I can wind it out, drop the legs and instantly have a decent covered area outside the sliding door.

That alone is brilliant for quick stops.

Park.

Wind it out.

Chairs underneath.

Kettle on.

Job done.

A Fiamma F45-style cassette awning can be deployed remarkably quickly, which is exactly why these things work so well on Transporter-sized campers.

But for a proper campsite weekend I can take that same idea considerably further.

I wind the Fiamma fully out.

The support legs come down at its outer edge.

That creates what is effectively Vanilla’s veranda.

Underneath it I can have my camping mat, table and chairs while still leaving enough room to move freely between the van and Faros.

And because Vanilla’s sliding door opens directly onto this covered area, the whole thing starts feeling much more like part of the campervan than simply an awning standing nearby.

Rain outside?

Open the van door.

Still dry.

Want your boots off before climbing inside?

Do it under the canopy.

Need somewhere to sit while someone else is inside Vanilla?

Easy.

Want breakfast outdoors while Britain conducts one of its regular experiments involving drizzle?

Carry on.

This middle area could easily become one of my favourite bits of the whole setup.

Then we reach the clever bit.

At the outer edge of the Fiamma, around the line of the support poles, sits the Vango Faros.

So rather than the Faros consuming the canopy space, it effectively continues the campsite outward.

That means Vanilla suddenly occupies a much larger footprint than you’d ever expect from a short-wheelbase Transporter.

At one side there is the campervan itself.

Then the open covered terrace.

Then the enclosed Faros room.

It’s almost modular camping.

I can configure each part for a completely different job.

Vanilla becomes the bedroom, kitchen and technical nerve centre.

The Fiamma becomes the outdoor lounge.

The Faros becomes the extra living room, storage room or bedroom.

That is an awful lot of accommodation created from one relatively compact VW.

The Faros is exactly the type of drive-away awning I like.

It is big enough to be genuinely useful without becoming the campsite equivalent of erecting the Millennium Dome.

Vango designed the Faros as a relatively lightweight drive-away awning aimed at weekend trips and compact campervan setups, with versions specifically designed for lower vehicles such as Transporters.

The inflatable Air version replaces much of the traditional pole structure with Vango’s AirBeam system.

Pump it up and the main structure simply rises into shape.

That alone is worth celebrating.

Anyone who has ever crawled around a campsite holding a bent fibreglass pole while trying to determine which apparently identical sleeve it belongs in will understand.

Air awnings feel rather more civilised.

There are still guy lines, pegging points and tensioning to deal with, obviously, but the main skeleton is already dealt with.

The current Faros family is deliberately positioned by Vango as a compact campsite hub, somewhere to relax, store kit or create extra usable space outside the vehicle.

That description fits my setup perfectly.

But I want to push the idea further.

I want mine to become part of Vanilla.

This is probably the biggest practical advantage.

Once zipped up, the Faros gives me a proper enclosed space.

Put decent sleeping mats, camp beds or an inflatable mattress inside and suddenly Vanilla can accommodate more people without everybody attempting some sort of human Tetris inside the VW.

Two people can sleep comfortably in the awning while Vanilla retains her normal sleeping accommodation.

That is enormously useful for weekends away with friends or family.

The Faros has windows for daylight, privacy sections for night-time and ventilation to make the space far more pleasant than simply sleeping underneath an open canopy.

Zip everything closed and you have a genuine separate bedroom.

Essentially:

Vanilla has acquired a guest wing.

I knew this van had ambitions.

This is why I like the concept so much.

Vanilla is small.

That is one of her greatest strengths.

She is short-wheelbase.

She fits into normal parking spaces.

I can take her into towns.

I can use her as an ordinary vehicle.

I don’t want to destroy that flexibility by dragging around an enormous permanent camping structure.

Instead I want equipment that expands when I arrive somewhere.

This does exactly that.

On the road:

VANILLA.

On a quick overnight stop:

VANILLA + FIAMMA.

On a proper campsite weekend:

VANILLA + FULL FIAMMA + FAROS.

Same vehicle.

Completely different capability.

And then comes perhaps the greatest advantage of all.

The Faros can remain standing when Vanilla leaves.

That is the whole point of a drive-away awning.

Once I’ve established the campsite, I don’t have to dismantle everything simply because I want to drive somewhere.

I can leave the Faros pitched.

Leave the chairs inside.

Leave bedding.

Leave camping equipment.

Leave bags.

Leave the general mountain of stuff that somehow emerges every time a campervan door opens.

Then I disconnect Vanilla.

Start the engine.

And drive away.

When I return, I simply position Vanilla alongside the setup again and reconnect it.

The campsite remains the campsite.

Vanilla remains transport.

That separation is incredibly valuable.

Without it, every trip to the shops becomes a military withdrawal.

This arrangement also makes the Faros useful in its own right.

Imagine Vanilla has gone out for the day.

What remains?

The Faros is still standing as a completely independent campsite room.

Anything that needs protecting can stay zipped inside.

So I’m not abandoning a pile of chairs, bedding and kit in the middle of a field.

It is essentially a little base camp.

Then Vanilla returns later and the two parts reunite.

I rather like that.

It is almost docking.

NIX CAMP BASE established.

Vanilla undocks.

Mission begins.

Vanilla returns.

Docking complete.

Yes, I am absolutely going to think about it that way now.

Having that entire Fiamma section between the van and the Faros is what makes my planned arrangement special.

If the Faros were immediately against Vanilla, I would gain enclosed accommodation but effectively lose the large open-sided sheltered area.

By placing the Faros at the far end of the Fiamma, I get both.

That middle section becomes usable whatever the weather.

And importantly, it remains naturally connected to Vanilla.

Open the sliding door and the living area simply continues outside.

No immediately stepping into wet grass.

No standing in the rain trying to put shoes on.

No muddy doorway.

Instead you step into a genuinely useful sheltered zone.

I can already picture mornings here.

Sliding door open.

Coffee on the table.

Vanilla’s interior lights still glowing slightly.

Rain ticking gently onto the Fiamma.

Faros zipped up at the other end with somebody still asleep inside.

That is exactly what campervan travelling is supposed to feel like.

Then imagine the same campsite after dark.

Fiamma lighting on.

Warm light spilling from Vanilla.

Lanterns inside the Faros.

Chairs underneath the canopy.

Webasto quietly keeping Vanilla warm.

Fridge humming away.

Jackery sitting somewhere smugly full of electrons.

The Faros becomes the extra room.

Vanilla becomes the warm little metal house.

And the Fiamma becomes the covered courtyard joining the two.

That is not bad for something based around a VW Transporter.

This setup should become particularly valuable as the seasons change.

During midsummer, the Fiamma is mostly shade.

During spring and autumn it becomes protection.

That is a subtle but important difference.

Suddenly the outdoor area remains usable when conditions deteriorate.

A chilly evening doesn’t automatically force everybody inside Vanilla.

A shower doesn’t destroy dinner.

Wet kit doesn’t need to immediately enter the van.

And if the Faros is being used for sleeping, people have a sheltered route through the canopy before getting into the van itself.

For British campervan life, that is huge.

Because glorious weather is lovely.

But designing a camping system that only works when the weather is glorious is perhaps slightly optimistic.

Almost every major upgrade I’ve made to Vanilla follows the same philosophy.

Make the van more capable.

But don’t make her complicated.

The solar installation gives me energy without needing to do anything.

The leisure electrical system gives me independence.

The Jackery units give me additional portable power.

The Webasto gives me heat.

The fridge runs quietly in the background.

The Fiamma gives me shelter within minutes.

Now the Faros gives me another room when I need it.

None of those things fundamentally change what Vanilla is.

She is still a VW Transporter campervan.

But each system extends what she can do.

And together they create something enormously more capable than the sum of the parts.

I already know how this is going to work.

Vanilla parked.

Handbrake on.

Pop-top up if needed.

Fiamma wound all the way out.

Legs down.

Camping mat out.

Table deployed.

Chairs unfolded.

Faros inflated.

Connections made.

Guy lines tensioned.

Sleeping gear inside.

Lanterns on.

Beer cold.

Then stand back.

Because what was a short-wheelbase VW a few minutes earlier has become...

CAMP NIX.

And I rather suspect there will be something deeply satisfying about looking at that little arrangement and knowing everything has a purpose.

The van.

The canopy.

The room.

Three zones.

One campsite.

For a proper look at the Faros design and how Vango intends this compact awning to work as a campervan base, this is well worth watching:

And for anybody unfamiliar with just how quickly the Fiamma side of the system can be deployed, this gives a good demonstration of the F45-style cassette awning on a VW Transporter:

It isn’t actually the extra sleeping room.

It isn’t the extra storage.

It isn’t even having somewhere to sit when it rains.

It is the flexibility.

I can use as much or as little of the setup as I need.

Stop somewhere for lunch?

Wind the Fiamma out.

One night somewhere?

Probably just Vanilla.

Weekend campsite?

Deploy everything.

Friends staying?

Faros bedroom.

Need Vanilla during the day?

Disconnect and drive away.

That is how campervan equipment should work.

It should adapt to the trip.

Not dictate it.

There is something slightly absurd about all of this.

I started with a Volkswagen Transporter.

Now I apparently own a modular mobile residence with solar power, diesel heating, multiple electrical systems, a pop-top, an outdoor terrace and a detachable guest bedroom.

And I am absolutely fine with this development.

Because the whole thing still packs away.

Fiamma winds back into its cassette.

Faros deflates.

Chairs fold.

Mat rolls up.

Sliding door shuts.

And suddenly...

It is Vanilla again.

A compact little grey campervan ready for the next road.

That is the magic of this setup.

Small when travelling.

Big when living.

And somewhere between the two sits that gloriously simple strip of canvas hanging from the side of Vanilla.

The Fiamma canopy.

My front porch.

My dining room roof.

My rain shelter.

And now the bridge to Vanilla’s newest room.

The Vango Faros Air.

Little metal house?

Not anymore.

Little metal estate.