Les Oliviers, Oraison (ACSI2009-1282) N43.92295 E5.92361
The end of our time on the Mediterranean. From now on we will be going steadily North, and towards home.
The route is spectacularly scenic, and initially all is well. Then the arguments with the satnav begin. We are by now in a fairly remote area of the Var region, near the Gorges du Verdon. It quickly becomes clear that the map in the satnav is not accurate, since according to the display we are often not even on a road, and sometimes the spoken instructions come thick and fast (bear left, take next right, turn around when possible…etc) and make little sense. The satnav “voice” is a woman, Kathleen’s comment is “I think she has been dropped on her head”. Regular followers will know that Kathleen and the satnav do not get on. My theory is that she does not like being told what to do by a woman. In the past we have changed the voice to a man, but that did not help. I think she just does not like being told what to do. We get hopelessly snarled up in a place called Valensole, we manage to get out of the village, and find somewhere to stop so we can consult the map. By this time the satnav is not receiving a satellite signal and so is giving no instructions at all (in a huff). The problem is that the road signs say we are on the D4, but according to our map, the D4 is no where near where we actually are! We eventually resort to turning around, negotiate our way back through Valensole, and simply watch for signposts. Eventually we spot a signpost to Oraison, and follow it along the D15, which is very narrow and twisty, fortunately we do not meet any large oncoming traffic. Throughout, the satnav is not working because there is no GPS signal.
We arrive eventually, about an hour later than we had expected.
We get booked in and settle down to our lunch. After about an hour, the satnav, which is still switched on, acquires a GPS signal, comes to life and announces “you have reached your destination”, to which Kathleen replies “we know that!, we have been here for an hour”.
In the evening we cycle into Oraison and sample a French evening, ie sitting in a pavement café watching the world go by. No wonder the French have a lower coronary death rate than we do!
For those of you who are reading this and may pass this way, this site is worth a few days, the scenery is beautiful. The site is on a hillside (not too high), overlooking the valley of the River Durance, with the hills of the Luberon in the background. It is all beautifully kept and It is about 2km into the town, Oraison, with the usual collection of pavement cafes etc. If you visit, you must have a drink in the grandly named “Grand Café du Commerce”, opposite the church. It is a relic of the early 1900’s or even late 1800’s I would guess.
Friday 19 June 2009
Friday 12th June 2009 – Tuesday 16th June 2009
Miramar Camping, La Londe-les-Maures (ACSI2009-1263) N43.11845 E6.24639
We move west along the coast, to visit an area we have intended to visit on previous trips, but never quite made it. The further west we go away from the St Tropez area, the less commercial it becomes. La Londe-les-Maures is a “real” small French town, rather than a purpose built resort.
It is Friday and we are in a new place, so church hunting is the first priority, after we have set up the van. We cycle into La Londe-les-Maures and begin looking for the church. A good bet usually is to find the “Marie” (Town Hall), almost always signposted and the church is usually nearby. We find La Marie, but no church is in site, we ask a shopkeeper who is just locking up his shop for lunch time (most small shops still close for lunch in France), and he tells us “la Bas” (over there), so we cycle off in the direction he points.
Sure enough we come to the church a few hundred metres along the road. Here we encounter another common problem in France, the name of the church is not displayed, and the notice board outside the church refers to more than one church. While Kathleen attempts to read the French notice, I wander around the corner looking for the street name, which may help us determine which church we are actually at. Sitting on a bench in the street are an elderly lady, and a younger one who I take to be her daughter or even Granddaughter. They are dressed in Moslem style including headscarves. The older one asks me (in French of course) what I am looking for (at least I think that is what she said). I first explain to her that I am English, and that my French is not good. Another torrent of French is the response. Kathleen arrives on the scene, and explains (in passable French) we are trying to find the mass times for the church.
The old lady takes it upon herself to solve the problem, and gestures to us to follow her. She leads us around the side of the church, to the priests house, and rings on the bell. An elderly priest emerges (at least I think he was a priest, since he is in his vest, and minus his dog-collar). We have clearly disturbed his siesta, and he is not too pleased. He does however confirm, yes, mass is 10:00 Sunday, at this church.
I thought it was very nice of the old lady to go to such trouble, especially when she appeared to belong to the opposition, or maybe she just enjoys disturbing Catholic priests during their siesta.
The church matter settled, we explore a little and stumble on a promising cycle path, which we follow to its end at Mauvanne (about 5 miles away), before returning to La Londe-les-Maures for a cooling beer.
This area is absolutely covered in cycle tracks, or “piste cyclible” as they would have it. So we visit the Tourist Information Office and attempt to get a map which will allow us to cycle to Hyeres, which we have been told is worth a visit. We are not too successful at obtaining a map, but we cycle off anyway, you cannot go too far wrong if you keep the sea on your left, I tell Kathleent. We get to Hyeres Plage, which we subsequently discover is further than Hyeres. It is fairly easy going, although there is a reasonable distance on the road, which is never too much fun. After an invigorating coffee (yes, coffee), we head back, and following the signs back to La Londe-les-Maures, we follow a quieter and more pleasant route back, although it is longer. We cover a respectable 20 miles, and on our return I treat Kathleen to an ice cream (I am just too generous, I know).
After lunch. Kathleen opts for the beach, I have run out of books to read, and I have read all of the English newspapers we have, so my options on the beach are severely limited (those of you who have been following regularly will understand why), so I set off to further explore the available cycle tracks.
I am instructed, that on my return I must go to the beach and help Kathleen carry her gear back. So I have to wander along a beach of (mostly) topless women, looking for Kathleen (who I know will have her top on, so this narrows down the odds of finding her). It is a difficult task, but someone has to do it, and I rise to the occasion. I manage to find her before it gets dark.
I rustle up a fairly passable spaghetti bolognaise for our evening meal, not bad if I say so myself, even if we are missing half of the ingredients in our sparsely filled cupboards, a trip to the supermarket is needed urgently.
While I clear away the debris of our meal and do the washing up, Kathleen mounts a concert on her guitar for our Dutch and German neighbours. It is amazing how they all know the same 60’s repertoire (Dylan, Baez, Everleys etc etc), true they are mostly in our age group, I can only think they all spent their teenage years in a marijuana induced haze in Amsterdam.
On the information board at the site, there is a notice for a choir concert at the church on Saturday evening (20:30). We decide to forego an evening of drinking and cycle along there. It is quite well attended, indeed when we arrive at 20:15, there is already a queue waiting to get in. The choir sing unaccompanied, and it is rather good. At the interval, there is a little “pop group” called “Never Mind”, consisting of two boys on electric guitar one on a keyboard. They did three numbers, which all sounded the same to us, but full marks for trying, since they are very young, only 15 or 16 I would say. I did wonder that perhaps it was not a Catholic do, since there were no raffles and no bingo!, but we did make a 5Euro donation. Pity I am not an MP, I could have put it on my expenses.
Sunday and Kathleen is off to church. I find a “la Presse”, selling English newspapers and occupy myself until she emerges. They have closed off the centre of La Londe (goodness knows where all the traffic goes to) and there is a market in full swing. Slightly more fun than the “tourist” specials, many stalls selling food, in particular sausages which look about 100 years old, and enormous pans of simmering paella which smells delicious. We round off the market at what has now become our “local” with a glass of chilled rose. We cycle back to the marina for lunch overlooking the sea. Having stuffed ourselves full and had another bottle of rose, Kathleen decides that we must do some exercise to justify it, so after a suitable rest, we do a 20 mile circuit on the bikes.
Monday, after visiting the supermarket for supplies, we cycle almost to Fort de Bregancon, (which is about 10 miles away) and is, we are told, the summer retreat of the French President (ie Sarko & Carla), but wimp out about 2 miles short, then return to the van to pig out on strawberries and ice cream, plus a couple of beers. We round it off with a spell lying on the beach, where Kathleen is trying to get her tan completely even.
Tuesday is to be our last day here, so other than a hair washing exercise, during which I disappear to buy a newspaper and a loaf of delicious walnut bread, we spend our time packing away our “outside stuff”, and mostly lying about eating strawberries and ice cream. We stir ourselves in a short peddle around in the evening just to keep our muscles from seizing up!
We move west along the coast, to visit an area we have intended to visit on previous trips, but never quite made it. The further west we go away from the St Tropez area, the less commercial it becomes. La Londe-les-Maures is a “real” small French town, rather than a purpose built resort.
It is Friday and we are in a new place, so church hunting is the first priority, after we have set up the van. We cycle into La Londe-les-Maures and begin looking for the church. A good bet usually is to find the “Marie” (Town Hall), almost always signposted and the church is usually nearby. We find La Marie, but no church is in site, we ask a shopkeeper who is just locking up his shop for lunch time (most small shops still close for lunch in France), and he tells us “la Bas” (over there), so we cycle off in the direction he points.
Sure enough we come to the church a few hundred metres along the road. Here we encounter another common problem in France, the name of the church is not displayed, and the notice board outside the church refers to more than one church. While Kathleen attempts to read the French notice, I wander around the corner looking for the street name, which may help us determine which church we are actually at. Sitting on a bench in the street are an elderly lady, and a younger one who I take to be her daughter or even Granddaughter. They are dressed in Moslem style including headscarves. The older one asks me (in French of course) what I am looking for (at least I think that is what she said). I first explain to her that I am English, and that my French is not good. Another torrent of French is the response. Kathleen arrives on the scene, and explains (in passable French) we are trying to find the mass times for the church.
The old lady takes it upon herself to solve the problem, and gestures to us to follow her. She leads us around the side of the church, to the priests house, and rings on the bell. An elderly priest emerges (at least I think he was a priest, since he is in his vest, and minus his dog-collar). We have clearly disturbed his siesta, and he is not too pleased. He does however confirm, yes, mass is 10:00 Sunday, at this church.
I thought it was very nice of the old lady to go to such trouble, especially when she appeared to belong to the opposition, or maybe she just enjoys disturbing Catholic priests during their siesta.
The church matter settled, we explore a little and stumble on a promising cycle path, which we follow to its end at Mauvanne (about 5 miles away), before returning to La Londe-les-Maures for a cooling beer.
This area is absolutely covered in cycle tracks, or “piste cyclible” as they would have it. So we visit the Tourist Information Office and attempt to get a map which will allow us to cycle to Hyeres, which we have been told is worth a visit. We are not too successful at obtaining a map, but we cycle off anyway, you cannot go too far wrong if you keep the sea on your left, I tell Kathleent. We get to Hyeres Plage, which we subsequently discover is further than Hyeres. It is fairly easy going, although there is a reasonable distance on the road, which is never too much fun. After an invigorating coffee (yes, coffee), we head back, and following the signs back to La Londe-les-Maures, we follow a quieter and more pleasant route back, although it is longer. We cover a respectable 20 miles, and on our return I treat Kathleen to an ice cream (I am just too generous, I know).
After lunch. Kathleen opts for the beach, I have run out of books to read, and I have read all of the English newspapers we have, so my options on the beach are severely limited (those of you who have been following regularly will understand why), so I set off to further explore the available cycle tracks.
I am instructed, that on my return I must go to the beach and help Kathleen carry her gear back. So I have to wander along a beach of (mostly) topless women, looking for Kathleen (who I know will have her top on, so this narrows down the odds of finding her). It is a difficult task, but someone has to do it, and I rise to the occasion. I manage to find her before it gets dark.
I rustle up a fairly passable spaghetti bolognaise for our evening meal, not bad if I say so myself, even if we are missing half of the ingredients in our sparsely filled cupboards, a trip to the supermarket is needed urgently.
While I clear away the debris of our meal and do the washing up, Kathleen mounts a concert on her guitar for our Dutch and German neighbours. It is amazing how they all know the same 60’s repertoire (Dylan, Baez, Everleys etc etc), true they are mostly in our age group, I can only think they all spent their teenage years in a marijuana induced haze in Amsterdam.
On the information board at the site, there is a notice for a choir concert at the church on Saturday evening (20:30). We decide to forego an evening of drinking and cycle along there. It is quite well attended, indeed when we arrive at 20:15, there is already a queue waiting to get in. The choir sing unaccompanied, and it is rather good. At the interval, there is a little “pop group” called “Never Mind”, consisting of two boys on electric guitar one on a keyboard. They did three numbers, which all sounded the same to us, but full marks for trying, since they are very young, only 15 or 16 I would say. I did wonder that perhaps it was not a Catholic do, since there were no raffles and no bingo!, but we did make a 5Euro donation. Pity I am not an MP, I could have put it on my expenses.
Sunday and Kathleen is off to church. I find a “la Presse”, selling English newspapers and occupy myself until she emerges. They have closed off the centre of La Londe (goodness knows where all the traffic goes to) and there is a market in full swing. Slightly more fun than the “tourist” specials, many stalls selling food, in particular sausages which look about 100 years old, and enormous pans of simmering paella which smells delicious. We round off the market at what has now become our “local” with a glass of chilled rose. We cycle back to the marina for lunch overlooking the sea. Having stuffed ourselves full and had another bottle of rose, Kathleen decides that we must do some exercise to justify it, so after a suitable rest, we do a 20 mile circuit on the bikes.
Monday, after visiting the supermarket for supplies, we cycle almost to Fort de Bregancon, (which is about 10 miles away) and is, we are told, the summer retreat of the French President (ie Sarko & Carla), but wimp out about 2 miles short, then return to the van to pig out on strawberries and ice cream, plus a couple of beers. We round it off with a spell lying on the beach, where Kathleen is trying to get her tan completely even.
Tuesday is to be our last day here, so other than a hair washing exercise, during which I disappear to buy a newspaper and a loaf of delicious walnut bread, we spend our time packing away our “outside stuff”, and mostly lying about eating strawberries and ice cream. We stir ourselves in a short peddle around in the evening just to keep our muscles from seizing up!
Thursday 11 June 2009
De la Baie, Cavalaire-sur-Mer (ACSI2009-1274) N43.16954 E6.52966
Thursday 11th June 2009
Just a little bit for those of you who think we are just on one long holiday, it is more like just normal life, except we are doing it where ever, in France at present. So today (Thursday) we know we will be leaving tomorrow, and it is necessary to do some washing, and a little shopping. We still manage to fit in a drink or two, a nice cycle ride and a bit sunbathe (weather continues to be hot and sunny, with clear blue skies and temperatures of 27C plus).
We are quite surprised to notice that the site is quite full, and on most days, several people are turned away since there are no places available. We would have expected this in the “busy” times, ie July and particularly August, but this is not even mid June yet, and School holidays have not yet started.
Just a little bit for those of you who think we are just on one long holiday, it is more like just normal life, except we are doing it where ever, in France at present. So today (Thursday) we know we will be leaving tomorrow, and it is necessary to do some washing, and a little shopping. We still manage to fit in a drink or two, a nice cycle ride and a bit sunbathe (weather continues to be hot and sunny, with clear blue skies and temperatures of 27C plus).
We are quite surprised to notice that the site is quite full, and on most days, several people are turned away since there are no places available. We would have expected this in the “busy” times, ie July and particularly August, but this is not even mid June yet, and School holidays have not yet started.
Wednesday 10 June 2009
De la Baie, Cavalaire-sur-Mer (ACSI2009-1274) N43.16954 E6.52966
Monday 8th June - Wednesday 10th June 2009
Wednesday is market day. Now I have heard it said “once you have seen one old building you have seen them all”, or “once you have seen one old church/cathederal you have seen them all”, well the same must surely be true of French markets. Every single one of them sells the same selection of brightly coloured tablecloths, tacky jewellery, cheeses which are so smelly you could not stay in the same room as them…. Etc etc. Plus, for some reason the French insist on taking their silly little dogs to the market with them, so you need to be constantly vigilant in case you step on one of the stupid little things (a good move) or in one of their deposits (a bad move).
By lunch time we escape the market, and decide (uncharacteristically for Kathleen) , to have a take away for lunch. We buy a whole chicken, ham, potatoes, and ratatouille, from a small stall in the street, all ready cooked. This is no fast food junk, it is all beautifully cooked, and tastes superb. True it cost 20Euro, but there is enough for two meals for both of us, plus I suspect a sandwich this evening.
The guilt trip starts after we have pigged out on the takeaway, plus a couple of bottles of beer (not me, I never feel guilty about being a pig), so we spend the afternoon cycling it off.
Wednesday is market day. Now I have heard it said “once you have seen one old building you have seen them all”, or “once you have seen one old church/cathederal you have seen them all”, well the same must surely be true of French markets. Every single one of them sells the same selection of brightly coloured tablecloths, tacky jewellery, cheeses which are so smelly you could not stay in the same room as them…. Etc etc. Plus, for some reason the French insist on taking their silly little dogs to the market with them, so you need to be constantly vigilant in case you step on one of the stupid little things (a good move) or in one of their deposits (a bad move).
By lunch time we escape the market, and decide (uncharacteristically for Kathleen) , to have a take away for lunch. We buy a whole chicken, ham, potatoes, and ratatouille, from a small stall in the street, all ready cooked. This is no fast food junk, it is all beautifully cooked, and tastes superb. True it cost 20Euro, but there is enough for two meals for both of us, plus I suspect a sandwich this evening.
The guilt trip starts after we have pigged out on the takeaway, plus a couple of bottles of beer (not me, I never feel guilty about being a pig), so we spend the afternoon cycling it off.
Monday 8 June 2009
De la Baie, Cavalaire-sur-Mer (ACSI2009-1274) N43.16954 E6.52966
Friday 5th June 2009 – Sunday 7th June 2009
Today we head off for Cavalaire-sur-Mer. When we arrive, it turns out to be a quite large “resort” type place, but not in a tacky Blackpool sort of way, so it promises to be good, with a large selection of bars and eating places to choose from, plus a marina full of rather smart boats.
Like Au Paradis des Campeurs, this place is almost all Dutch people (at least 80% I would guess), it makes you wonder is Holland completely empty?, or alternatively, what would happen if they all went home, would it be standing room only?
It is Friday, so the weekend looms near. This means only two things, ie church and hair washing day. The facilities at the site are given the thumbs up for hair washing, and the electricity supply is 10amps, so operating a hairdryer and straightners for an hour or so should pose no problem. This only leaves the search for the church. We set off on our bikes, with vague directions from the Receptionist, after a false start we find the church and establish mass times. Then a cycle along the seafront, followed by a pitcher of chilled Rose, in a small bar.
We have reached that point in the trip, where the end is now clearly visible (ie about four weeks to go). This is time to begin worrying about supposed weight gain by one of the party. So today (Saturday), we cycle along the coast. We do about 10 miles in total, mostly along a dedicated cycle track, and get as far as a small place called Port de Croix. Here they are in the process of setting up a stage and marquees etc to celebrate D Day landings. I was not aware of this, but according to the notices and a plaque on the beach, American and French troops landed here to begin the liberation of France from the South. No mention of us Brits.
Our little trip was rounded off by a trip to a pavement café to watch the world go by, and in deference to the drive to lose weight (by K), a couple of coffee’s rather than a beer or wine. The weather today is hot (28C) and sunny, but there is a strong wind. A quick look at the BBC website shows us that at home the weather is showers and 11C, no contest really, it still warm enough to allow us to swim in the site pool!
This evening I decide to treat Kathleen to cocktails, on the basis that this morning she did the 10 mile cycle ride without complaining once. So off we go, we resist the temptation to have “sex on the beach”, and instead settle for a “Blue Lagoon” (Vodka, curacao etc), and a “Mai Tai” (rum, cointreau etc)., followed by a couple of gin and tonics.
While we are in the bar a group of four elderly French people arrive, complete with four of those silly little dogs they like to carry around. This was a first, would you believe they had a childs buggy, in which three of the dogs were riding.
On the way back from the bar, we meet two Polish chaps, a little tipsy I suspect. They ask us “do you speak English”, when we tell them “yes we do”, they proceed to talk to us in Polish with only one English word (which is “beer”), quite why they asked us if we spoke English when their English vocabulary is limited to the phrase “do you speak English” and “beer”, is a mystery. Eventually we understand they are looking for a supermarket which sells beer, and is open. It is too late for supermarkets, so we direct them to a small shop further down the street. Off they weave.
Sunday of course is church day, it turns out to be a very long session, they are having first communion, just like Molly at home, so it lasts from 10:30 until 12:15. Gives me time to read almost all of the Sunday paper undisturbed.
Today we head off for Cavalaire-sur-Mer. When we arrive, it turns out to be a quite large “resort” type place, but not in a tacky Blackpool sort of way, so it promises to be good, with a large selection of bars and eating places to choose from, plus a marina full of rather smart boats.
Like Au Paradis des Campeurs, this place is almost all Dutch people (at least 80% I would guess), it makes you wonder is Holland completely empty?, or alternatively, what would happen if they all went home, would it be standing room only?
It is Friday, so the weekend looms near. This means only two things, ie church and hair washing day. The facilities at the site are given the thumbs up for hair washing, and the electricity supply is 10amps, so operating a hairdryer and straightners for an hour or so should pose no problem. This only leaves the search for the church. We set off on our bikes, with vague directions from the Receptionist, after a false start we find the church and establish mass times. Then a cycle along the seafront, followed by a pitcher of chilled Rose, in a small bar.
We have reached that point in the trip, where the end is now clearly visible (ie about four weeks to go). This is time to begin worrying about supposed weight gain by one of the party. So today (Saturday), we cycle along the coast. We do about 10 miles in total, mostly along a dedicated cycle track, and get as far as a small place called Port de Croix. Here they are in the process of setting up a stage and marquees etc to celebrate D Day landings. I was not aware of this, but according to the notices and a plaque on the beach, American and French troops landed here to begin the liberation of France from the South. No mention of us Brits.
Our little trip was rounded off by a trip to a pavement café to watch the world go by, and in deference to the drive to lose weight (by K), a couple of coffee’s rather than a beer or wine. The weather today is hot (28C) and sunny, but there is a strong wind. A quick look at the BBC website shows us that at home the weather is showers and 11C, no contest really, it still warm enough to allow us to swim in the site pool!
This evening I decide to treat Kathleen to cocktails, on the basis that this morning she did the 10 mile cycle ride without complaining once. So off we go, we resist the temptation to have “sex on the beach”, and instead settle for a “Blue Lagoon” (Vodka, curacao etc), and a “Mai Tai” (rum, cointreau etc)., followed by a couple of gin and tonics.
While we are in the bar a group of four elderly French people arrive, complete with four of those silly little dogs they like to carry around. This was a first, would you believe they had a childs buggy, in which three of the dogs were riding.
On the way back from the bar, we meet two Polish chaps, a little tipsy I suspect. They ask us “do you speak English”, when we tell them “yes we do”, they proceed to talk to us in Polish with only one English word (which is “beer”), quite why they asked us if we spoke English when their English vocabulary is limited to the phrase “do you speak English” and “beer”, is a mystery. Eventually we understand they are looking for a supermarket which sells beer, and is open. It is too late for supermarkets, so we direct them to a small shop further down the street. Off they weave.
Sunday of course is church day, it turns out to be a very long session, they are having first communion, just like Molly at home, so it lasts from 10:30 until 12:15. Gives me time to read almost all of the Sunday paper undisturbed.
Tuesday 2 June 2009
Tuesday 2nd June 2009 – Thursday June 4th 2009
Au Paradis des Campeurs, Les Issambres (ACSI2009-1271) N43.36606 E6.71191
Les Pinedes is a very nice site, we would certainly come here again, its only drawback (for us) is that it is not cycling country.
We decide to head back for the coast to find some easier cycling country. So first we head for 1214 Green Park, Cagnes sur Mare. But it is a huge site mostly statics, and they only have two touring pitches free. So we head for Au Paradis des Campeurs, which turns out to be another good site with spotless facilities.
Enroute I enter into competition with Bryan Crick, Bryan is setting a record for breaking rear lights, I am doing the same for door mirrors, today I broke the second one. Driving across a narrow bridge, near St Aygulf, a French “white van man” speeding towards us, hit our mirror, didn’t stop of course. This time it is only the glass part, so I think it will “only” be a 100Euro to replace!
Reception are able to tell us where the nearest Peugot dealer is, and next day we set off on our bicycles to find it. Fortunately, they have a replacement mirror in stock, so we leave there happy but 106Euro poorer.
On our way back we decide to stop in St Aygulf for a beer, Kathleen buys, whilst I go to buy an English newspaper, so we can read about our thieving MPs and their expenses. Further discussion, and we decide that perhaps a portion of chips would be nice (Kathleen has obviously decided that 16 mile cycle ride justifies a bit of junk food), so I wander off and buy a couple of portions of pomme frites, which we sit and eat at the bar with our second beer (another nice thing about France, if the place does not sell food, they seem to have no problem with you bringing along your own), before wobbling our way back to the campsite.
The beach here is only a walk of 50 yards, to a nice little bay with crystal clear water, white sand, and a collection of topless women of course. The latter is a problem since it distracts me from reading my newspaper or book. I have now evolved a scale of measurement, based on the frequency you feel inclined to take a look, at the lower end of the scale is once per page, at the upper every word. There have not been any every words, so far, but we have had a once per sentence.
Today is domestic chores, Kathleen does the washing, while I cycle to the supermarket to buy some supplies, this is followed by an afternoon of lying on the beach., for Kathleen, and reading my book, for me.
Les Pinedes is a very nice site, we would certainly come here again, its only drawback (for us) is that it is not cycling country.
We decide to head back for the coast to find some easier cycling country. So first we head for 1214 Green Park, Cagnes sur Mare. But it is a huge site mostly statics, and they only have two touring pitches free. So we head for Au Paradis des Campeurs, which turns out to be another good site with spotless facilities.
Enroute I enter into competition with Bryan Crick, Bryan is setting a record for breaking rear lights, I am doing the same for door mirrors, today I broke the second one. Driving across a narrow bridge, near St Aygulf, a French “white van man” speeding towards us, hit our mirror, didn’t stop of course. This time it is only the glass part, so I think it will “only” be a 100Euro to replace!
Reception are able to tell us where the nearest Peugot dealer is, and next day we set off on our bicycles to find it. Fortunately, they have a replacement mirror in stock, so we leave there happy but 106Euro poorer.
On our way back we decide to stop in St Aygulf for a beer, Kathleen buys, whilst I go to buy an English newspaper, so we can read about our thieving MPs and their expenses. Further discussion, and we decide that perhaps a portion of chips would be nice (Kathleen has obviously decided that 16 mile cycle ride justifies a bit of junk food), so I wander off and buy a couple of portions of pomme frites, which we sit and eat at the bar with our second beer (another nice thing about France, if the place does not sell food, they seem to have no problem with you bringing along your own), before wobbling our way back to the campsite.
The beach here is only a walk of 50 yards, to a nice little bay with crystal clear water, white sand, and a collection of topless women of course. The latter is a problem since it distracts me from reading my newspaper or book. I have now evolved a scale of measurement, based on the frequency you feel inclined to take a look, at the lower end of the scale is once per page, at the upper every word. There have not been any every words, so far, but we have had a once per sentence.
Today is domestic chores, Kathleen does the washing, while I cycle to the supermarket to buy some supplies, this is followed by an afternoon of lying on the beach., for Kathleen, and reading my book, for me.
Monday 1 June 2009
Wednesday 27th May 2009 – Monday 1st June 2009
Les Pinedes, La Colle-sur-Loop (ACSI2009-1262) N43.68171 E7.08328
A combination of the time we spent exploring the narrow streets of old Albenga, plus the lack of a cycle track on the rather busy road from there to Allasio, meant that yesterday we did not make it to Allasio as planned. So today, we decided we would drive the coast road on our way back to France, although the estimated journey time was 3.5 hours on this route, rather than 1.45hours on the motorway.
It is well worth the extra time, since you pass along a beautiful coast line with magnificent views. The resorts you pass through Allasio, San Remo etc are mostly relics of the late 1950’s and early 1960’s tourist boom, but none the less pretty for that.
It would have been wise to rejoin the motorway before Nice, since this a bit of a nightmare to negotiate, particularly in a campervan, but when did I ever take the easy option?
Once in France, we stopped at the first supermarket we came to, to replenish supplies. The difference between shopping in France and Italy is really noticeable, with the French supermarkets having a far better range of products available. This is particularly noticeable with fresh fruit and vegetables, where the range available and quality in France far outshines that available in Italy, in our experience.
We arrive at La Pinedes, to find we have caught up with a couple of GB caravanners who we last saw at Lake Trasimeno. Unusually compared to the sites we have visited thus far, this site appears to be “little England”, with about 50% of the people in our area from the UK (although to be fair, four of them it turns out are Welsh).
Once we are set up, I set out on the bike to explore and find the church, my usual first task. Although the village (and church) are only 1.5miles away, I quickly discover this is not (casual) bike riding country. The 1.5 miles to the village is almost all up a reasonably steep hill, OK coming back of course.
I investigate the cost of hiring a car, to allow us to explore, but at 102Euro for 2 days, we decide to hang fire and see how we get on with the bus. So on Saturday, we walk into the village (Colle sur Loop), and go to the Tourist Information Office, get a bus timetable.
We are told, that for 1Euro we can ride the bus to Vence, and that within a three hour period from purchasing our ticket, we can get on and off the bus, without having to buy another ticket.
Armed with our timetable off we go. We arrive at Vence, no problem, the old quarter is quaint and beautiful, and there is a market on, so between this and taking photographs there is enough to keep Kathleen occupied for a while. Then we decide to get on the bus back towards Colle sur Loop, but get off at St Paul de Vence. First problem, the bus driver will not accept our ticket, even although it is in the 3 hour time frame. Not really a problem, it is only 1Euro each, so we buy new tickets (reasoning that perhaps the three hour period, is in only one direction of travel). St Paul is a beautiful medieval village, perched on the top of a hill. It is rather touristy, but is wonderfully preserved. Once we have had enough of that, we head back for the bus. Same problem, driver will not accept our ticket although it is in the 3 hour timeframe. So we buy another ticket. Still a lot cheaper that hiring a car (6euro vs 102Euro), but someone has their wires crossed, either tourist information are giving out the wrong information, or no one has told the bus drivers!
We return to Colle sur Loup, with the intention of eating at a very nice pizza place we had spotted earlier. It is closed!, so we wander along to the restaurant/bar beside the bank, which appears to be the most popular place in the village, and is open. We have the “plat du jour” (steak in pepper sauce, with chips and salad), and a half litre of Rose. Kathleen does not like mayonnaise or salad dressing in any form (a regular problem), so attempted to explain to the waitress than she did not want dressing on her salad. In the event she got the steak minus the pepper sauce, and salad with dressing. Clearly we need to swot up on the French! It was very nice however (at least mine was!).
During my checking of mass times, I had determined (according to my O level French – Failed), that there was no mass at any of the churches in the region, and that instead, there was a “synod” to be held in Nice, to celebrate Pentecost. There was even a request for people with spare seats in their car to offer transport to those who needed it. The same notice was present in the churches at Vence, and St Paul de Vence.
My word was not taken for this, so, Sunday morning, we walked into the village, in time for mass at 11am, only to find I was right. I retired to the bar, while Kathleen held her own private mass in the church. The sermon was of course delightfully short.
The trip to the bar was interesting as well as refreshing. The waitress had dyed orange hair and was dressed in a purple 1920’s style tasselled mini dress, and 6” high heels, this at 11:00 on a Sunday morning, maybe she had not changed from the night before.
It is probably worth mentioning the young lady who serves in the boulangerie in the village, she wears to most revealing outfits, typically, a mini-mini skirt, high heels and a diaphanous see through blouse. Consumption of bread in Colle-sur-loup by the male population is apparently ten times the national average, I wonder why?
Disaster strikes, this is terrible, we may have to go home immediately!, Kathleen’s hair drier has broken down.
I suspect it is a broken wire, where the wire emerges from the body of the drier, but it is held together with tamper proof screws, so I cannot get it apart.
It is a holiday here (Pentecost) on Monday 1st June, even our favourite little bar in Colle-sur-loup is closed. But undaunted we risk a bus ride to Vence where there is a Le Clerc. We buy a replacement hair drier, 24Euro, pretty much the same as it would have been at home, so all is well again.
On our return journey, we meet a very elderly English couple waiting at the bus stop, they live in Jersey, but the lady recognises our accents, and informs us she was born in Darlington, he is a Prince Philip look alike, and tells us his family have lived in Jersey for at least 500 years.
A combination of the time we spent exploring the narrow streets of old Albenga, plus the lack of a cycle track on the rather busy road from there to Allasio, meant that yesterday we did not make it to Allasio as planned. So today, we decided we would drive the coast road on our way back to France, although the estimated journey time was 3.5 hours on this route, rather than 1.45hours on the motorway.
It is well worth the extra time, since you pass along a beautiful coast line with magnificent views. The resorts you pass through Allasio, San Remo etc are mostly relics of the late 1950’s and early 1960’s tourist boom, but none the less pretty for that.
It would have been wise to rejoin the motorway before Nice, since this a bit of a nightmare to negotiate, particularly in a campervan, but when did I ever take the easy option?
Once in France, we stopped at the first supermarket we came to, to replenish supplies. The difference between shopping in France and Italy is really noticeable, with the French supermarkets having a far better range of products available. This is particularly noticeable with fresh fruit and vegetables, where the range available and quality in France far outshines that available in Italy, in our experience.
We arrive at La Pinedes, to find we have caught up with a couple of GB caravanners who we last saw at Lake Trasimeno. Unusually compared to the sites we have visited thus far, this site appears to be “little England”, with about 50% of the people in our area from the UK (although to be fair, four of them it turns out are Welsh).
Once we are set up, I set out on the bike to explore and find the church, my usual first task. Although the village (and church) are only 1.5miles away, I quickly discover this is not (casual) bike riding country. The 1.5 miles to the village is almost all up a reasonably steep hill, OK coming back of course.
I investigate the cost of hiring a car, to allow us to explore, but at 102Euro for 2 days, we decide to hang fire and see how we get on with the bus. So on Saturday, we walk into the village (Colle sur Loop), and go to the Tourist Information Office, get a bus timetable.
We are told, that for 1Euro we can ride the bus to Vence, and that within a three hour period from purchasing our ticket, we can get on and off the bus, without having to buy another ticket.
Armed with our timetable off we go. We arrive at Vence, no problem, the old quarter is quaint and beautiful, and there is a market on, so between this and taking photographs there is enough to keep Kathleen occupied for a while. Then we decide to get on the bus back towards Colle sur Loop, but get off at St Paul de Vence. First problem, the bus driver will not accept our ticket, even although it is in the 3 hour time frame. Not really a problem, it is only 1Euro each, so we buy new tickets (reasoning that perhaps the three hour period, is in only one direction of travel). St Paul is a beautiful medieval village, perched on the top of a hill. It is rather touristy, but is wonderfully preserved. Once we have had enough of that, we head back for the bus. Same problem, driver will not accept our ticket although it is in the 3 hour timeframe. So we buy another ticket. Still a lot cheaper that hiring a car (6euro vs 102Euro), but someone has their wires crossed, either tourist information are giving out the wrong information, or no one has told the bus drivers!
We return to Colle sur Loup, with the intention of eating at a very nice pizza place we had spotted earlier. It is closed!, so we wander along to the restaurant/bar beside the bank, which appears to be the most popular place in the village, and is open. We have the “plat du jour” (steak in pepper sauce, with chips and salad), and a half litre of Rose. Kathleen does not like mayonnaise or salad dressing in any form (a regular problem), so attempted to explain to the waitress than she did not want dressing on her salad. In the event she got the steak minus the pepper sauce, and salad with dressing. Clearly we need to swot up on the French! It was very nice however (at least mine was!).
During my checking of mass times, I had determined (according to my O level French – Failed), that there was no mass at any of the churches in the region, and that instead, there was a “synod” to be held in Nice, to celebrate Pentecost. There was even a request for people with spare seats in their car to offer transport to those who needed it. The same notice was present in the churches at Vence, and St Paul de Vence.
My word was not taken for this, so, Sunday morning, we walked into the village, in time for mass at 11am, only to find I was right. I retired to the bar, while Kathleen held her own private mass in the church. The sermon was of course delightfully short.
The trip to the bar was interesting as well as refreshing. The waitress had dyed orange hair and was dressed in a purple 1920’s style tasselled mini dress, and 6” high heels, this at 11:00 on a Sunday morning, maybe she had not changed from the night before.
It is probably worth mentioning the young lady who serves in the boulangerie in the village, she wears to most revealing outfits, typically, a mini-mini skirt, high heels and a diaphanous see through blouse. Consumption of bread in Colle-sur-loup by the male population is apparently ten times the national average, I wonder why?
Disaster strikes, this is terrible, we may have to go home immediately!, Kathleen’s hair drier has broken down.
I suspect it is a broken wire, where the wire emerges from the body of the drier, but it is held together with tamper proof screws, so I cannot get it apart.
It is a holiday here (Pentecost) on Monday 1st June, even our favourite little bar in Colle-sur-loup is closed. But undaunted we risk a bus ride to Vence where there is a Le Clerc. We buy a replacement hair drier, 24Euro, pretty much the same as it would have been at home, so all is well again.
On our return journey, we meet a very elderly English couple waiting at the bus stop, they live in Jersey, but the lady recognises our accents, and informs us she was born in Darlington, he is a Prince Philip look alike, and tells us his family have lived in Jersey for at least 500 years.
Wednesday 27 May 2009
Monday 25th May 2009 - Tuesday 26th May 2009
Bungalow Camping Baciccia, Ceriale/Savona (ACSI2009-1469) N44.08164 E8.21777
After scanning the ASCI book, we decide to head to Ceriale, we stayed in this area last year with Joan and Bryan, on our way home from Croatia via Venice.
The route is simple, mostly motorway, and there is little cause for argument with the satnav, but on leaving the motorway, we find the toll booth is unmanned (fairly common in Italy). Since we are driving a Van with the steering wheel on the “wrong” side, handling the tolls is the passenger’s task. Problem one is I fail to get near enough to the machine so that the boss can reach the buttons for the machine from her seat. So she has to scramble out of the cab to get near enough to the machine, minus her glasses of course. The machines are quite neat, and “speak” the instructions as to which buttons to press and how much you need to pay. The instructions or course are in Italian, and on this particular machine the button to switch to English instructions clearly did not work, and it just kept on issuing instructions in Italian. This led to an argument between the Boss and the toll machine, picture if you will an irate Kathleen shouting at a toll machine which of course continued to repeat the same Italian phrase over and over.
Last year when we were in this area, we stayed at a site called Bella Vista, so we decided to try the other site in the area. In our view it is better than Bella Vista, one advantage is that it is not as far up the hill, so cycling back from the supermarket with a full pack is much less hard work!
Today we set off to cycle to Allasio, which according to our map reading is about 7 miles north of here along the coast. Enroute we had to pass through Albenga (about 4 miles away). This was a pleasantly surprising place. It is a “working” town, rather than a tourist destination, but is has an a very old section, with a labyrinth of narrow streets. It looks Arabic, but according to the information in the museum it is Byzantine (what ever that is). There is also a 4th century church dedicated to John the Baptist, with murals and a full immersion font all amazingly well preserved considering their age.
After scanning the ASCI book, we decide to head to Ceriale, we stayed in this area last year with Joan and Bryan, on our way home from Croatia via Venice.
The route is simple, mostly motorway, and there is little cause for argument with the satnav, but on leaving the motorway, we find the toll booth is unmanned (fairly common in Italy). Since we are driving a Van with the steering wheel on the “wrong” side, handling the tolls is the passenger’s task. Problem one is I fail to get near enough to the machine so that the boss can reach the buttons for the machine from her seat. So she has to scramble out of the cab to get near enough to the machine, minus her glasses of course. The machines are quite neat, and “speak” the instructions as to which buttons to press and how much you need to pay. The instructions or course are in Italian, and on this particular machine the button to switch to English instructions clearly did not work, and it just kept on issuing instructions in Italian. This led to an argument between the Boss and the toll machine, picture if you will an irate Kathleen shouting at a toll machine which of course continued to repeat the same Italian phrase over and over.
Last year when we were in this area, we stayed at a site called Bella Vista, so we decided to try the other site in the area. In our view it is better than Bella Vista, one advantage is that it is not as far up the hill, so cycling back from the supermarket with a full pack is much less hard work!
Today we set off to cycle to Allasio, which according to our map reading is about 7 miles north of here along the coast. Enroute we had to pass through Albenga (about 4 miles away). This was a pleasantly surprising place. It is a “working” town, rather than a tourist destination, but is has an a very old section, with a labyrinth of narrow streets. It looks Arabic, but according to the information in the museum it is Byzantine (what ever that is). There is also a 4th century church dedicated to John the Baptist, with murals and a full immersion font all amazingly well preserved considering their age.
Wednesday May 20th 2009 - Sunday May 24th 2009
Molino a Fuoco, Vada/Livorno (ACSI2009-1593) N43.33206 E10.46021
Well, we must move on if we are going to have enough time on our way home to linger in France. So we continue north and arrive at Vada.
The site is good, although a bit on the large side for our taste.
Vada is a very pleasant town, and is only a short cycle ride away, mostly on a cycle track. One of our first tasks (as usual) is to cycle into town, locate the church, and determine mass times for Sunday. So mission accomplished, we find a suitable café and have a couple of beers as the world passes by.
As we drive in, we encounter another English couple (Jeremy and Hillary), relaxing in the sun. We spend a pleasant evening with them sampling their 1.5l bottle of red wine.
The coast here is an almost continuous beach of white sand stretching for several kilometres, back from the beach are cool pine woods, with numerous paths and cycle tracks. So we spend our days cycling, mostly along the coast as far south as Marina Bibona, but also inland to Ceccina.
We have Jeremy and Hillary round to our pitch for return match of red wine drinking and discover that Jeremy is a folk music fan. Out comes the guitar and an impromptu concert begins, Kathleen works through her repertoire of Peter, Paul and Mary, Everley Brothers etc and with Jeremy giving a very good rendition of “Wild Rover”. Our next door neighbours (a Dutch foursome, who spend most evenings playing cards) are the audience, and join in the fun with a few verses of “Tulips from Amsterdam”.
Well, we must move on if we are going to have enough time on our way home to linger in France. So we continue north and arrive at Vada.
The site is good, although a bit on the large side for our taste.
Vada is a very pleasant town, and is only a short cycle ride away, mostly on a cycle track. One of our first tasks (as usual) is to cycle into town, locate the church, and determine mass times for Sunday. So mission accomplished, we find a suitable café and have a couple of beers as the world passes by.
As we drive in, we encounter another English couple (Jeremy and Hillary), relaxing in the sun. We spend a pleasant evening with them sampling their 1.5l bottle of red wine.
The coast here is an almost continuous beach of white sand stretching for several kilometres, back from the beach are cool pine woods, with numerous paths and cycle tracks. So we spend our days cycling, mostly along the coast as far south as Marina Bibona, but also inland to Ceccina.
We have Jeremy and Hillary round to our pitch for return match of red wine drinking and discover that Jeremy is a folk music fan. Out comes the guitar and an impromptu concert begins, Kathleen works through her repertoire of Peter, Paul and Mary, Everley Brothers etc and with Jeremy giving a very good rendition of “Wild Rover”. Our next door neighbours (a Dutch foursome, who spend most evenings playing cards) are the audience, and join in the fun with a few verses of “Tulips from Amsterdam”.
Friday May 15th 2009 - Tuesday May 19th 2009
La Spaggia, Passignano sul Trasimeno (ACSI2009-1532) N43.18397 E12.15089
So while we have enjoyed our visit to Pompei, it is incredibly hot there, and being a city centre location it is not exactly ideal for lying about. So off we go again, still heading north, this time for Lake Tresimeno which we have visited in the past in our MX5 days, during our holiday near Firenze (Florence to us English speakers).
The site here is excellent, right on the lake shore, and with a pleasant quiet ambiance.
The town (Passignano) is a short (flat) cycle ride away and it has the obligatory church. It is also has numerous cafes and bars, and is a pleasant place to wander and have the obligatory drink or icecream. In addition, there is a very old section, built high on the hill with beautiful medieval buildings.
We hope to cycle around the lake, but on talking to the site owner he advises us this is not a good idea as the road along the southern edge is very busy. However he gave us a map, showing a cycle track which allows us to cycle 25km in one direction and 15km in the other, which is about 2/3 of the way round.
So one day we cycle the 15km to San Feliciano, it is a beautiful ride through olive groves and vineyards. We stop off along the way, for a drink and icecreams of course. Another day we cycle in the opposite direction mostly through a nature reserve, with fields of wild poppies in full bloom, just like a Monet painting, to Castiglione del Lago. This is an ancient hill town, with a more or less intact castle. While we sit in a pavement café watching the world go by, an English foursome arrive at the table next to us, and Kathleen obliges by taking their photograph (using their camera), for them.
So while we have enjoyed our visit to Pompei, it is incredibly hot there, and being a city centre location it is not exactly ideal for lying about. So off we go again, still heading north, this time for Lake Tresimeno which we have visited in the past in our MX5 days, during our holiday near Firenze (Florence to us English speakers).
The site here is excellent, right on the lake shore, and with a pleasant quiet ambiance.
The town (Passignano) is a short (flat) cycle ride away and it has the obligatory church. It is also has numerous cafes and bars, and is a pleasant place to wander and have the obligatory drink or icecream. In addition, there is a very old section, built high on the hill with beautiful medieval buildings.
We hope to cycle around the lake, but on talking to the site owner he advises us this is not a good idea as the road along the southern edge is very busy. However he gave us a map, showing a cycle track which allows us to cycle 25km in one direction and 15km in the other, which is about 2/3 of the way round.
So one day we cycle the 15km to San Feliciano, it is a beautiful ride through olive groves and vineyards. We stop off along the way, for a drink and icecreams of course. Another day we cycle in the opposite direction mostly through a nature reserve, with fields of wild poppies in full bloom, just like a Monet painting, to Castiglione del Lago. This is an ancient hill town, with a more or less intact castle. While we sit in a pavement café watching the world go by, an English foursome arrive at the table next to us, and Kathleen obliges by taking their photograph (using their camera), for them.
Monday May 11th 2009
Costa Verde, San Nicolo di Ricardi (ACSI2009-1564) N38.63856 E15.83406
We decide to head up the East Coast to stay near Mt Etna the still active volcano North of Catania. We find the site we have been recommended to go to, it is disappointingly scrappy after Scarabeo. But, we find the area with the best view of Etna and begin to select our spot. We are still manoeuvring when a German chap, comes along and complains that we are too close to him (even although other vans are closer). OK so we move a bit (well quite a bit) further away. But the seeds have been sown, the boss is incensed, and works herself into a fury. So we take the photographs of Etna (which was the only reason we came here), pack up and leave.
We now decide we will just go to Messina and get the ferry, we have had enough of Sicily. We arrive at Messina at around lunch time, and get caught up in a big traffic jam. As we edge along, with the inevitable scooters buzzing around and overtaking on all sides, we notice a sort of medallion man character who is riding a quad bike as if it is a motor bike (ie he is attempting to weave in and out of the almost stationary traffic). A few hundred yards further and we encounter the inevitable car “parked” and blocking the traffic. We signal and edge out to pass the parked car, this appears to incense medallion man, and for some reason the female driver of a small and battered Opel Corsa on my left. We clear the obstruction. Next thing is Medallion man has pulled along side us, and is shouting and gesturing for us to pull over. We ignore him and continue on. Then come some traffic lights which are on stop for us, medallion man, seizes his chance and pulls in front of us, preventing us from moving forward when the lights change. He shouts, we shout back, stalemate, the irate female arrives on the scene and also drives her car across in front of us. I know we have done nothing wrong, and have certainly not made contact with her. Kathleen becomes increasingly convinced we are being set up. By now we are holding up all of the traffic, and there is a constant blasting of horns. Fortunately two Motor Cycle Police arrive on the scene. Medallion man vanishes. The irate female, gestures to her car, claiming to the one of the Policemen that we have added a new scrape to the existing collection already on her car. By now, Kathleen is out of the van and (forcefully) explaining to the Policeman (in English of course) that we had definitely not made contact with her car. The police had no hesitation in just sending us on our way, so I assume they has seen it all before.
So we make our way to the ferry and on a calm and sunny afternoon, we return to main land Italy.
We leave the motorway (or should I say contraflow), when directed by our satnav, and wind our way along the coast towards our next site. As we approach, there is a warning sign advising no vans over 7m allowed, then we see why. The approach road is a 1 in 3 descent, built into the cliff face, with numerous hair pin bends. As we descend, Kathleen asks “what if we meet something coming the other way”, good question, because there is no way I can reverse up here!
We are offered a pitch right on the sea, but the approach too tight for our van, so we have to take another pitch with not such a good view.
The site is good, but we decide not to linger more than one night, since you are effectively cut off here, you can walk along the beach, but to do anything else you have to trek up the scary approach road.
We decide to head up the East Coast to stay near Mt Etna the still active volcano North of Catania. We find the site we have been recommended to go to, it is disappointingly scrappy after Scarabeo. But, we find the area with the best view of Etna and begin to select our spot. We are still manoeuvring when a German chap, comes along and complains that we are too close to him (even although other vans are closer). OK so we move a bit (well quite a bit) further away. But the seeds have been sown, the boss is incensed, and works herself into a fury. So we take the photographs of Etna (which was the only reason we came here), pack up and leave.
We now decide we will just go to Messina and get the ferry, we have had enough of Sicily. We arrive at Messina at around lunch time, and get caught up in a big traffic jam. As we edge along, with the inevitable scooters buzzing around and overtaking on all sides, we notice a sort of medallion man character who is riding a quad bike as if it is a motor bike (ie he is attempting to weave in and out of the almost stationary traffic). A few hundred yards further and we encounter the inevitable car “parked” and blocking the traffic. We signal and edge out to pass the parked car, this appears to incense medallion man, and for some reason the female driver of a small and battered Opel Corsa on my left. We clear the obstruction. Next thing is Medallion man has pulled along side us, and is shouting and gesturing for us to pull over. We ignore him and continue on. Then come some traffic lights which are on stop for us, medallion man, seizes his chance and pulls in front of us, preventing us from moving forward when the lights change. He shouts, we shout back, stalemate, the irate female arrives on the scene and also drives her car across in front of us. I know we have done nothing wrong, and have certainly not made contact with her. Kathleen becomes increasingly convinced we are being set up. By now we are holding up all of the traffic, and there is a constant blasting of horns. Fortunately two Motor Cycle Police arrive on the scene. Medallion man vanishes. The irate female, gestures to her car, claiming to the one of the Policemen that we have added a new scrape to the existing collection already on her car. By now, Kathleen is out of the van and (forcefully) explaining to the Policeman (in English of course) that we had definitely not made contact with her car. The police had no hesitation in just sending us on our way, so I assume they has seen it all before.
So we make our way to the ferry and on a calm and sunny afternoon, we return to main land Italy.
We leave the motorway (or should I say contraflow), when directed by our satnav, and wind our way along the coast towards our next site. As we approach, there is a warning sign advising no vans over 7m allowed, then we see why. The approach road is a 1 in 3 descent, built into the cliff face, with numerous hair pin bends. As we descend, Kathleen asks “what if we meet something coming the other way”, good question, because there is no way I can reverse up here!
We are offered a pitch right on the sea, but the approach too tight for our van, so we have to take another pitch with not such a good view.
The site is good, but we decide not to linger more than one night, since you are effectively cut off here, you can walk along the beach, but to do anything else you have to trek up the scary approach road.
Saturday May 2nd 2009 - Sunday May 10th
Scarabeo Camping, Punta Braccetto (ACSI2009-1552) N36.81709 E14.46729
Sunday approaches, so decision time, do we stay and “do” Mass here, or do we move on. We elect to move on. Now we are heading more or less East along the South coast. We arrive at Scarabeo Camping, initially it all appears pretty much what we have come to expect, a bit scrappy. Reception is closed. I wander across to where a couple of guys are cleaning squid they have caught, and ask (using my very few words of Italian) what time Reception opens. He tells me we are at the wrong place, we need to be a few hundred metres down the road, where a refurbished Scarabeo Camping is open for business.
Amazing, this site is clean and orderly. The pathways are weed free, and there is a clean sandy beach adjoining the site. Facilities are excellent, there is event hot water in the washing up sinks. Fresh Bread is delivered to the site every morning, and some days an Ice Cream man calls, plus there is an excellent pizza shop just outside the site. But hold on, I am getting over excited.
The young lady in Reception gives us a conducted tour, ensuring we know where everything is and pointing out our choice of pitches as we go. Can this be Sicily?
There is a mix of nationalities, Swiss, Austrian, German, Dutch, and once we settle in we find a couple of fellow GB’s. As often happens, the small world syndrome kicks in and we find that our fellow GB’s even originate from the North East. There is Vera and Pete originally from Barnard Castle and Darlington respectively, but now living in Crete, and Colin and Kath originally from Newcastle but now living in Leicester.
Colin by the way does excellent “puddings” of doughnuts, strawberries and cream.
Kathleen is soon sitting in the sun, playing her guitar, soon joined by Colin and a German chap who can play some good Simon and Garfunckle stuff, but whose singing leaves a bit to be desired.
We settle in to stay here a while. We cycle the 4miles to San Croce (the nearest town of any size), and find the essentials (ie church, supermarket and cash machine). Apart from playing boules on the beach, and abortively trying to fly a kite, we explore the coast on our bikes and cycle along the coast to Marina di Ragusa, which is taking shape as what promises to be a smart resort, stopping off for beers or coffee’s as the mood takes us.
Sunday approaches, so decision time, do we stay and “do” Mass here, or do we move on. We elect to move on. Now we are heading more or less East along the South coast. We arrive at Scarabeo Camping, initially it all appears pretty much what we have come to expect, a bit scrappy. Reception is closed. I wander across to where a couple of guys are cleaning squid they have caught, and ask (using my very few words of Italian) what time Reception opens. He tells me we are at the wrong place, we need to be a few hundred metres down the road, where a refurbished Scarabeo Camping is open for business.
Amazing, this site is clean and orderly. The pathways are weed free, and there is a clean sandy beach adjoining the site. Facilities are excellent, there is event hot water in the washing up sinks. Fresh Bread is delivered to the site every morning, and some days an Ice Cream man calls, plus there is an excellent pizza shop just outside the site. But hold on, I am getting over excited.
The young lady in Reception gives us a conducted tour, ensuring we know where everything is and pointing out our choice of pitches as we go. Can this be Sicily?
There is a mix of nationalities, Swiss, Austrian, German, Dutch, and once we settle in we find a couple of fellow GB’s. As often happens, the small world syndrome kicks in and we find that our fellow GB’s even originate from the North East. There is Vera and Pete originally from Barnard Castle and Darlington respectively, but now living in Crete, and Colin and Kath originally from Newcastle but now living in Leicester.
Colin by the way does excellent “puddings” of doughnuts, strawberries and cream.
Kathleen is soon sitting in the sun, playing her guitar, soon joined by Colin and a German chap who can play some good Simon and Garfunckle stuff, but whose singing leaves a bit to be desired.
We settle in to stay here a while. We cycle the 4miles to San Croce (the nearest town of any size), and find the essentials (ie church, supermarket and cash machine). Apart from playing boules on the beach, and abortively trying to fly a kite, we explore the coast on our bikes and cycle along the coast to Marina di Ragusa, which is taking shape as what promises to be a smart resort, stopping off for beers or coffee’s as the mood takes us.
Wednesday April 29th 2009 - Friday May 1st 2009
Sporting Village and Camping, Mazara del Vallo (ACSI2009-1517) N37.63638 E12.61724
Mazara del Vallo is (according to the book), the first area the Arabs settled and conquered, and the last town they lost to the invading Normans. Sicily does have an amazing history of invasion and occupation, with Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and surprisingly Normans all taking their turn to capture and occupy it.
The site here is reasonably good, it has a nice clean swimming pool, which is open. There is free and plentiful hot water (but not in the washing up sinks), and washing machines that work. There are no fellow GB’s here, but mainly Germans, a few Dutch and a few Italians.
There is one novel feature however. The showers are joint use (ie men and women), they have no locks on the doors, and they a only as big as a “standard” shower cubicle, so consequently once you are in the shower, there is no where to hang your clothes where they will not get wet. The convention seems to be, strip off outside the shower, nip in the shower and hang your towel over the door so that it is obvious it is occupied. As I say, interesting trying to time your shower to coincide with a fit young woman, as opposed to a wrinkly one.
Enough of that, Mazara is home to Europe’s biggest Tuna fishing fleet, and there is a pleasant cycle ride along the sea front to the fishing port. The town generally however is in a deplorable state of disrepair.
Mazara del Vallo is (according to the book), the first area the Arabs settled and conquered, and the last town they lost to the invading Normans. Sicily does have an amazing history of invasion and occupation, with Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and surprisingly Normans all taking their turn to capture and occupy it.
The site here is reasonably good, it has a nice clean swimming pool, which is open. There is free and plentiful hot water (but not in the washing up sinks), and washing machines that work. There are no fellow GB’s here, but mainly Germans, a few Dutch and a few Italians.
There is one novel feature however. The showers are joint use (ie men and women), they have no locks on the doors, and they a only as big as a “standard” shower cubicle, so consequently once you are in the shower, there is no where to hang your clothes where they will not get wet. The convention seems to be, strip off outside the shower, nip in the shower and hang your towel over the door so that it is obvious it is occupied. As I say, interesting trying to time your shower to coincide with a fit young woman, as opposed to a wrinkly one.
Enough of that, Mazara is home to Europe’s biggest Tuna fishing fleet, and there is a pleasant cycle ride along the sea front to the fishing port. The town generally however is in a deplorable state of disrepair.
Tuesday April 28th 2009
La Pineta, San Vito Lo Capo (ACSI2009-1566) N38.17392 E12.74808
We wake to find the storm has passed, the sun is shining. So we decide to continue westwards along the north coast to San Vito Lo Capo. The ride passes uneventfully (it needs to after yesterday!), and we arrive at San Vito Lo Capo. It is a very pleasant place, with a wide, clean sandy beach and the usual collection of bars, cafes etc etc. There is even an ancient church, dedicated of course to San Vito. It has clearly been a mosque at some point in the past, since it not shaped like a church. But when we arrive at the campsite, it is a construction site, they are still building the swimming pool!. We initially assume the site is closed, since the Reception is all shut up, but one of the workmen hurries over and assures us it is open, and tells us we need to go to the bar, where someone will be available to check us in.
We are the only people there, so we have a wide choice of pitches!. In fairness, the facilities are good and clean. There is even hot water via a token (supplied free for ACSI clients). Now we do like quiet sites, but being the only guest is just a bit too quiet!
I have to say, that so far, I am not impressed with Sicily. The built up area we have seen are shabby, and the coast and countryside is litter strewn, we will have to hope that it improves. Driving is a case of just ignoring all of the “normal” rules. The classic is the Europe wide “No overtaking” sign of two cars side by side, one red and one black. Here it appears to mean form two lanes in the space of the single lane marking on the road. The roads are strewn with bits of bumper and trim which have been broken in some minor bump. A car without bodywork damage is a rarity indeed.
We wake to find the storm has passed, the sun is shining. So we decide to continue westwards along the north coast to San Vito Lo Capo. The ride passes uneventfully (it needs to after yesterday!), and we arrive at San Vito Lo Capo. It is a very pleasant place, with a wide, clean sandy beach and the usual collection of bars, cafes etc etc. There is even an ancient church, dedicated of course to San Vito. It has clearly been a mosque at some point in the past, since it not shaped like a church. But when we arrive at the campsite, it is a construction site, they are still building the swimming pool!. We initially assume the site is closed, since the Reception is all shut up, but one of the workmen hurries over and assures us it is open, and tells us we need to go to the bar, where someone will be available to check us in.
We are the only people there, so we have a wide choice of pitches!. In fairness, the facilities are good and clean. There is even hot water via a token (supplied free for ACSI clients). Now we do like quiet sites, but being the only guest is just a bit too quiet!
I have to say, that so far, I am not impressed with Sicily. The built up area we have seen are shabby, and the coast and countryside is litter strewn, we will have to hope that it improves. Driving is a case of just ignoring all of the “normal” rules. The classic is the Europe wide “No overtaking” sign of two cars side by side, one red and one black. Here it appears to mean form two lanes in the space of the single lane marking on the road. The roads are strewn with bits of bumper and trim which have been broken in some minor bump. A car without bodywork damage is a rarity indeed.
Monday April 27th 2009
Villaggio Marinello, Oliveri/Marinello (ACSI2009-1525) N38.13221 E15.05457
It occurs to me that I have not mentioned the weather for a few days, indeed in my ramblings, I think I have only mentioned the weather when it has been raining. Well, that is more or less it, if I have not mentioned it, it is because it is warm and sunny!, and so it is today.
We program the satnav for our next site in Sicily, and given what we have been told about the state of the roads south of here, and the fact that the motorway is toll free to the Sicily ferry, we elect to take the motorway. We soon find out why it is free, most of it has not yet been built, there are a few kilometres of sweeping viaducts, and long dual carriageway tunnels, but at least 80% of it is a contraflow!
We arrive at the end of the motorway, or should I say contraflow, and make our way to the ferry. It runs regularly every 20 minutes or so, so there is no pre-booking, just turn up buy a ticket (65Euro return, a bit steep), and go. We are first met by a small army of touts trying to sell us advice on which ticket to buy etc etc. We ignore the touts, and Kathleen buys the ticket at the official ticket office. Still a bit worrying, she pays with a credit card, but no pin number is requested and no signature, and no receipt is given, we are entering the land of the mafia, we hope all will be well.
As I said earlier, the day started warm and sunny, well it is still warm, but now it is blowing a gale, we can see across to Sicily, Kathleen decides that the ferries crossing too and fro look very small, and the waves very large!
We join the queue to board, and have our first taste of Sicilian driving. It is the standard ferry queuing system with several lanes and you are allocated a lane depending on your length, height etc. It is clear that everyone in the queue will get onboard, the queue is not long, but an idiot (Sicilian) driver (with mobile phone glued to his ear of course) in a black Mercedes, insists on trying to queue jump and push in between us and the bus we are following. I move over and push force him to move nearer the edge of the quay. Kathleen is not happy about this, after all he may be a godfather, so I relent and allow him.
Despite Kathleen’s misgivings about the small size of the ferry, the strength of the wind and the large size of the waves, we arrive safely in Messina. After more jockeying for position and queue jumping we make our way out of the dock area and into the madness of the Messina traffic.
We join the motorway, at the edge of town, and we are on our way. But not for long, at the next exit we are flagged down by a police patrol and told the motorway is closed to everything except cars due to the strength of the wind (at least we think that is what he said), not to worry (yet), that sat nav quickly recalculates our route excluding the motorway. But now we pass through a series of suburbs and small towns to the west of Messina. The traffic is very busy. On several occasions emergency vehicles (fire engines, ambulances etc) come screaming up behind us, with blue lights flashing and sirens blaring. We dutifully pull over and let them pass. Big mistake, once having pulled over, the other traffic will not let you back in to the flow. We (or I) quickly learn that here, what you do is ignore the sirens and just keep going.
Eventually we come to a section of road which is clearly not finished yet, our satnav clearly thinks it is finished and instructs us straight ahead into an obvious construction site. Avoiding that calamity, we follow a diversion sign, then of course there are no more signs. We come to a very narrow section (2.2m, according to the sign), the van is 2.2m wide. There is no where to turn around and reversing out is impossible, so with sweat on my brow, and Kathleen shouting “you will never get through there” (instead of watching the mirror on her side), I went for it. She was almost right, I got through, but with a black scuff mark down her side of the van.
We arrive at the site. It is not good, it does not appear to be fully open, and heavy rain has been added to the howling gale. The one plus is that it does have wifi. We duly buy an hours worth, but after about 15minutes it packs in, the signal probably cannot make it through the wall of wind blown rain!
The weather plus the incident of my attempting to drive through a 2.2m gap, makes for a suitably fraught evening, least said soonest mended. Welcome to Sicily.
It occurs to me that I have not mentioned the weather for a few days, indeed in my ramblings, I think I have only mentioned the weather when it has been raining. Well, that is more or less it, if I have not mentioned it, it is because it is warm and sunny!, and so it is today.
We program the satnav for our next site in Sicily, and given what we have been told about the state of the roads south of here, and the fact that the motorway is toll free to the Sicily ferry, we elect to take the motorway. We soon find out why it is free, most of it has not yet been built, there are a few kilometres of sweeping viaducts, and long dual carriageway tunnels, but at least 80% of it is a contraflow!
We arrive at the end of the motorway, or should I say contraflow, and make our way to the ferry. It runs regularly every 20 minutes or so, so there is no pre-booking, just turn up buy a ticket (65Euro return, a bit steep), and go. We are first met by a small army of touts trying to sell us advice on which ticket to buy etc etc. We ignore the touts, and Kathleen buys the ticket at the official ticket office. Still a bit worrying, she pays with a credit card, but no pin number is requested and no signature, and no receipt is given, we are entering the land of the mafia, we hope all will be well.
As I said earlier, the day started warm and sunny, well it is still warm, but now it is blowing a gale, we can see across to Sicily, Kathleen decides that the ferries crossing too and fro look very small, and the waves very large!
We join the queue to board, and have our first taste of Sicilian driving. It is the standard ferry queuing system with several lanes and you are allocated a lane depending on your length, height etc. It is clear that everyone in the queue will get onboard, the queue is not long, but an idiot (Sicilian) driver (with mobile phone glued to his ear of course) in a black Mercedes, insists on trying to queue jump and push in between us and the bus we are following. I move over and push force him to move nearer the edge of the quay. Kathleen is not happy about this, after all he may be a godfather, so I relent and allow him.
Despite Kathleen’s misgivings about the small size of the ferry, the strength of the wind and the large size of the waves, we arrive safely in Messina. After more jockeying for position and queue jumping we make our way out of the dock area and into the madness of the Messina traffic.
We join the motorway, at the edge of town, and we are on our way. But not for long, at the next exit we are flagged down by a police patrol and told the motorway is closed to everything except cars due to the strength of the wind (at least we think that is what he said), not to worry (yet), that sat nav quickly recalculates our route excluding the motorway. But now we pass through a series of suburbs and small towns to the west of Messina. The traffic is very busy. On several occasions emergency vehicles (fire engines, ambulances etc) come screaming up behind us, with blue lights flashing and sirens blaring. We dutifully pull over and let them pass. Big mistake, once having pulled over, the other traffic will not let you back in to the flow. We (or I) quickly learn that here, what you do is ignore the sirens and just keep going.
Eventually we come to a section of road which is clearly not finished yet, our satnav clearly thinks it is finished and instructs us straight ahead into an obvious construction site. Avoiding that calamity, we follow a diversion sign, then of course there are no more signs. We come to a very narrow section (2.2m, according to the sign), the van is 2.2m wide. There is no where to turn around and reversing out is impossible, so with sweat on my brow, and Kathleen shouting “you will never get through there” (instead of watching the mirror on her side), I went for it. She was almost right, I got through, but with a black scuff mark down her side of the van.
We arrive at the site. It is not good, it does not appear to be fully open, and heavy rain has been added to the howling gale. The one plus is that it does have wifi. We duly buy an hours worth, but after about 15minutes it packs in, the signal probably cannot make it through the wall of wind blown rain!
The weather plus the incident of my attempting to drive through a 2.2m gap, makes for a suitably fraught evening, least said soonest mended. Welcome to Sicily.
Tuesday 26 May 2009
Saturday April 25th 2009 - Sunday April 26th 2009
International Camping Village, Praia a Mare (ACSI2009-1546) N39.88190 E15.78548
We have the usual decision to take at this time of week, is the present site suitable for a trip to church on Sunday either on foot or on a bicycle. For this site that is definitely a negative, you have to either negotiate the steep switch back road for about 2 kilometres as it climbs up to the town, or if you are feeling really fit you can walk up the (what seems like) several hundred steps to the town. How do they comply with disabled access legislation here?
So we decide to head south, so that we can be settled in place at somewhere suitable on Sunday. We key in the coordinates to the satnav, and tell it to avoid motorways. We want to do the scenic route. We do not know it yet, but this is a major mistake.
The trusty satnav takes us along the Amalfi coast as expected, towards Positano. As we had expected it is spectacular and very beautiful. Kathleen has cramp in her hands from gripping onto her seat as we climb and then drop down, all of the time negotiating hairpin after hairpin bend. We notice that the road is quite busy, and there are many cars and large busses parked in laybys as we approach Positano. We check the trusty diary and find it is a National holiday today their version of Independence day or some such. On the edge of Positano there is a Policeman who waves us down and tells us something in Italian, which we of course do not understand. We repeatedly tell him (in English) that we are going to Amalfi. He is not having it and he will not let us proceed. Instead he directs us onto a side road (we now think he intention was for us to turn around and retrace our steps, but this was not clear at the time).
The side road is narrow, but it is signposted Amalfi. So we soldier on up the hill, and up and up, the road gets even narrower. We begin to think we are making a big mistake (well, I am thinking it, Kathleen has been telling me forcefully what a big mistake it is for the past 4 or 5 kilometers). Eventually we come to a fork in the road, no signposts, silence from the satnav. Do we go right, or do we go left? Fortunately there are two Italian chaps passing the time of day by the road side (goodness knows were they have come from we appear to be in the middle of nowhere and part way up a very steep hill). Fortunately one of them speaks enough English to understand when we tell him we are trying to get to Amalfi. He tells us we need the left fork, but, and this is a big but, there is no point in proceeding since the road ahead has collapsed and there is no way we will able to pass in something 6metres long and 3metres high. We have to turn around.
Fortunately at this point, the road widens slightly. Kathleen hops out to watch the back (she says, I think she just did not want to in the cab as I drove forward towards the chasm). I swung the van around and drove towards the drop, at this point some other vehicle had clearly gone through the stone barrier, and all there was between me a a drop of several hundred feet was some red and white checked tape. The helpful Italian, beckoned me forward (it is OK for him, he is not in the cab!), still further and further, eventually I chicken out, and opt to reverse until I hear the cry of STOP from Kathleen, Forwards toward the drop again, and so we execute a three (or maybe five or six) point turn, Kathleen jumps back into the cab and with a cheery wave we retrace our steps, this time down the hill.
We arrive back at the “main” road along the coast, the policeman is still there and still refuses to let us pass. There is nothing for it but to return towards Naples and join the motorway. We have now spent about 2.5 hours driving up and down the Amalfi coast. The boss is not amused, I decide that silence the wisest option.
We rejoin the motorway. Initially there is a toll, but it is only 2Euro or so (more of this later). We now speed south making up for lost time (as I constantly reminded. All goes smoothly until we reach the point where we must leave the motorway and begin heading for the coast again. The road at this point is in good condition, but is twists its way across some high hills (most of Italy, I am beginning to realise is mountains) and overtaking is not really an option. We can see the road snaking ahead as it climbs and drops. There is a Campervan visible way ahead. We steadily gain on him and soon find it is an ancient arthritic Italian job. There is no chance of us overtaking him on the twists and climbs of this road. Steadily the queue of cars behind us builds up, although the odd suicidal Alpha driver goes for it and overtakes both of us with zero visibility ahead, most opt to stay alive. The crawling Italian shows no sign of pulling over to allow us to pass, so for the next 50kilometres of so, I pull over, and allow the cars behind to pass, so at least they have to overtake only one campervan. Eventually he turns off, oh joy. We do not know it at this point, but we will see the Italian van again soon.
We arrive at our selected campsite (La Mantinera 1547), it looks very posh, our hopes are raised. But, despite the opening date given in the ACSI book, it is closed. All is not lost, there is another site (1546) only a kilometre along the road, it is actually nearer to the town (and the church), so it may be better anyway we tell ourselves.
We drive along there, infront of us, waiting to check-in is the arthritic Italian van!, how did he get here ahead of us?, he obviously knew a shortcut not known to our satnav.
We settle in, there are some good points. The facilities are excellent, with lost of hot water (an unexpected luxury we have discovered in Italy, they must use cold showers as a form of birth control I think). It gets better, it is an easy cycle to the town and there is a church. Now the negative, there is a railway line next to the site with highspeed trains passing regularly, the good news is they stop about 10:00pm.
As usual almost everyone there is Dutch or German, but we soon notice another English van, George and Anne who are (or were) planning to go to Sicily. They have made it as far south as Gallipoli, but at that point have decided they are running out of time, and must start heading north again, hence we find them here.
From them we learn were the ferry leaves from, how much it will cost, that the motorway is free all the way to the ferry terminal (we find out why later), and they kindly loan us their “Sicily Book” with the understanding we will post it to them on our return.
We venture out to explore on our bikes. There is a fine promenade complete with cycle track which runs for several kilometres along the coast. But this is a strange place, clearly at some point there has been a decision to built a resort here, and indeed whole sections have been built, such as the promenade, but at the same time many developments (houses, hotels etc) are unfinished, and clearly work on them has been abandoned for several years.
As we cycle along, we spot a church, on the hill side. It would be of course. We cycle towards it. Eventually the climb becomes so steep, that the road gives way to steps. We park the bikes, and climb the steps. At the top is an amazing church come grotto built into the hillside. It is clearly in use, but it turns out only on special occasions and there is no service there tomorrow (Sunday). We return to our bikes and cycle into town, where we find the somewhat anonymous but functioning modern church. There is no notice board advertising mass times, but a helpful Italian lady converses with in sign language to convey that mass is at 11:00am the next day.
We have the usual decision to take at this time of week, is the present site suitable for a trip to church on Sunday either on foot or on a bicycle. For this site that is definitely a negative, you have to either negotiate the steep switch back road for about 2 kilometres as it climbs up to the town, or if you are feeling really fit you can walk up the (what seems like) several hundred steps to the town. How do they comply with disabled access legislation here?
So we decide to head south, so that we can be settled in place at somewhere suitable on Sunday. We key in the coordinates to the satnav, and tell it to avoid motorways. We want to do the scenic route. We do not know it yet, but this is a major mistake.
The trusty satnav takes us along the Amalfi coast as expected, towards Positano. As we had expected it is spectacular and very beautiful. Kathleen has cramp in her hands from gripping onto her seat as we climb and then drop down, all of the time negotiating hairpin after hairpin bend. We notice that the road is quite busy, and there are many cars and large busses parked in laybys as we approach Positano. We check the trusty diary and find it is a National holiday today their version of Independence day or some such. On the edge of Positano there is a Policeman who waves us down and tells us something in Italian, which we of course do not understand. We repeatedly tell him (in English) that we are going to Amalfi. He is not having it and he will not let us proceed. Instead he directs us onto a side road (we now think he intention was for us to turn around and retrace our steps, but this was not clear at the time).
The side road is narrow, but it is signposted Amalfi. So we soldier on up the hill, and up and up, the road gets even narrower. We begin to think we are making a big mistake (well, I am thinking it, Kathleen has been telling me forcefully what a big mistake it is for the past 4 or 5 kilometers). Eventually we come to a fork in the road, no signposts, silence from the satnav. Do we go right, or do we go left? Fortunately there are two Italian chaps passing the time of day by the road side (goodness knows were they have come from we appear to be in the middle of nowhere and part way up a very steep hill). Fortunately one of them speaks enough English to understand when we tell him we are trying to get to Amalfi. He tells us we need the left fork, but, and this is a big but, there is no point in proceeding since the road ahead has collapsed and there is no way we will able to pass in something 6metres long and 3metres high. We have to turn around.
Fortunately at this point, the road widens slightly. Kathleen hops out to watch the back (she says, I think she just did not want to in the cab as I drove forward towards the chasm). I swung the van around and drove towards the drop, at this point some other vehicle had clearly gone through the stone barrier, and all there was between me a a drop of several hundred feet was some red and white checked tape. The helpful Italian, beckoned me forward (it is OK for him, he is not in the cab!), still further and further, eventually I chicken out, and opt to reverse until I hear the cry of STOP from Kathleen, Forwards toward the drop again, and so we execute a three (or maybe five or six) point turn, Kathleen jumps back into the cab and with a cheery wave we retrace our steps, this time down the hill.
We arrive back at the “main” road along the coast, the policeman is still there and still refuses to let us pass. There is nothing for it but to return towards Naples and join the motorway. We have now spent about 2.5 hours driving up and down the Amalfi coast. The boss is not amused, I decide that silence the wisest option.
We rejoin the motorway. Initially there is a toll, but it is only 2Euro or so (more of this later). We now speed south making up for lost time (as I constantly reminded. All goes smoothly until we reach the point where we must leave the motorway and begin heading for the coast again. The road at this point is in good condition, but is twists its way across some high hills (most of Italy, I am beginning to realise is mountains) and overtaking is not really an option. We can see the road snaking ahead as it climbs and drops. There is a Campervan visible way ahead. We steadily gain on him and soon find it is an ancient arthritic Italian job. There is no chance of us overtaking him on the twists and climbs of this road. Steadily the queue of cars behind us builds up, although the odd suicidal Alpha driver goes for it and overtakes both of us with zero visibility ahead, most opt to stay alive. The crawling Italian shows no sign of pulling over to allow us to pass, so for the next 50kilometres of so, I pull over, and allow the cars behind to pass, so at least they have to overtake only one campervan. Eventually he turns off, oh joy. We do not know it at this point, but we will see the Italian van again soon.
We arrive at our selected campsite (La Mantinera 1547), it looks very posh, our hopes are raised. But, despite the opening date given in the ACSI book, it is closed. All is not lost, there is another site (1546) only a kilometre along the road, it is actually nearer to the town (and the church), so it may be better anyway we tell ourselves.
We drive along there, infront of us, waiting to check-in is the arthritic Italian van!, how did he get here ahead of us?, he obviously knew a shortcut not known to our satnav.
We settle in, there are some good points. The facilities are excellent, with lost of hot water (an unexpected luxury we have discovered in Italy, they must use cold showers as a form of birth control I think). It gets better, it is an easy cycle to the town and there is a church. Now the negative, there is a railway line next to the site with highspeed trains passing regularly, the good news is they stop about 10:00pm.
As usual almost everyone there is Dutch or German, but we soon notice another English van, George and Anne who are (or were) planning to go to Sicily. They have made it as far south as Gallipoli, but at that point have decided they are running out of time, and must start heading north again, hence we find them here.
From them we learn were the ferry leaves from, how much it will cost, that the motorway is free all the way to the ferry terminal (we find out why later), and they kindly loan us their “Sicily Book” with the understanding we will post it to them on our return.
We venture out to explore on our bikes. There is a fine promenade complete with cycle track which runs for several kilometres along the coast. But this is a strange place, clearly at some point there has been a decision to built a resort here, and indeed whole sections have been built, such as the promenade, but at the same time many developments (houses, hotels etc) are unfinished, and clearly work on them has been abandoned for several years.
As we cycle along, we spot a church, on the hill side. It would be of course. We cycle towards it. Eventually the climb becomes so steep, that the road gives way to steps. We park the bikes, and climb the steps. At the top is an amazing church come grotto built into the hillside. It is clearly in use, but it turns out only on special occasions and there is no service there tomorrow (Sunday). We return to our bikes and cycle into town, where we find the somewhat anonymous but functioning modern church. There is no notice board advertising mass times, but a helpful Italian lady converses with in sign language to convey that mass is at 11:00am the next day.
Thursday April 23rd 2009 - Friday April 24th 2009
Selano Spiaggia, Vico Equense (ACSI2009-1597) N40.66002 E14.42028
We have had our fill of the city for now, so today we set off heading south again, destination the Sorrento area and the Amalfi coast.
On our way south through France we did pass the time of day with several fellow Campervan/Caravan owners, who when we said we were headed for Sicily, muttered about the state of the roads. We were somewhat puzzled by this, since we had previously been as far South as Florence (by car), and Venice with the campervan. On these trips we had found the roads to be good, indeed the motorways were so well surfaced as to be billiard table like.
As we headed south of Rome we began to see what people were talking about. We did not know it as this stage, but this was only the beginning. First the simple things, road signs lack any distance information and road numbering information, plus the small detail that as we have found since entering Italy, they flout the EU standards on road signs, they have motorways signposted in green and all other roads in blue, unlike every other country in the EU, so arguments between the satnav and Kathleen increased dramatically. Then the potholes, even on major roads it was not uncommon to have to reduce speed to 30mph to avoid having everything shaken loose and flying about the van.
As we reach Naples, the roads get even worse, some sections are made of paving stone sized cobles (in the style the Romans made roads I think, from seeing Pompei later) and they are far from flat, so it is like driving across a ploughed field. Although it is only shortly after midday, the sky darkens and a massive thunderstorm erupts. As we join the “Ring road” to skirt Naples, we are met with a river of water running down the slip road off the major road (don’t they have drains here?). Once on the ring road, which is mostly reduced to single file traffic by road works, we are unfortunate enough to get behind a Tata pickup truck, driven by the only Italian who wants to travel at 20mph. Eventually I see a chance to overtake (it is a no overtaking zone, but by now I have entered the spirit of things and I am ignoring such details), as I begin to overtake, oncoming cars flash frantically, they are warning me there is a “Carbenari” up ahead, so I pull back in an crawl along at 20mph. The rain stops as quickly as it began, and we get a magnificent view of Vesuvius, cloud still clinging to its summit as we leave Naples and head for our site on the peninusular beside Salerno. As we approach the coast, we see the shape of things to come on this section of coast, the road is narrow, and twists along a ledge on a cliff, occasionally plunging into a tunnel, the views are spectacular, with villages perched precariously on the steep edge, and the blue of the sea 50 to 100 feet below, usually but not always with a crash barrier between us and it. Several times I am forcefully told to watch the road and not the view, as Kathleen’s anxiety level increases.
Eventually we come to yet another 90 degree bend and plunge into a tunnel which emerges about a kilometre later in Vico Equense. Following the sat nav instructions we edge around an impossibly tight bend and begin to descend a narrow twisting road to the actual shoreline. Although we have doubts that this tiny road can lead us anywhere except a dead end the trusty Tomtom brings us to the entrance of the campsite. We are met by the English speaking owner, who directs us to a pitch and gives us the low down on where everything is. He is very pleasant and helpful, but I think in an earlier life he must have been a school teacher, since he speaks to us throughout as if we were 5 year olds.
The site is small, there is so little flat ground here, it is hard to imagine why they use any of for a campsite!, but everything works and it clean. Most of the other Vans and Caravans are German, one brave soul is even towing a “Smart Car” behind him. But next to us is a Spanish registered van, the owners however are English, having moved to Spain some 30 years ago, they travel the rest of Europe in a Campervan when the fancy takes them, since they are both very sprightly 70 year olds, it is not doing them any harm.
The next day we decide to visit Sorrento, first we catch a bus in the village by the sea. This in itself is an experience, there appears to be no timetable, the chap in the bar next to the bus stop assures us the bus will come, just have another drink. Patience is not a virtue with one of us. The bus eventually arrives and takes us along the impossibly narrow and twisty road with much honking of the horn (but little slowing down) at each blind hairpin bend, and deposits us at the Railway station in Vico Equense. We buy our tickets and try to figure out which of the platforms we need. Some guesswork from the announcements takes us to platform two where (in time) a train for Sorrento arrives. We duly arrive, and spend a few hours exploring this attractive little place, before we retire to a pavement café to watch the world go by. Then we return to the railway station and make our way back to Vico Equense. We decide against waiting for the bus to take us down the hill (there is no bar to wait in), so we walk, not so bad going downhill, and the views are spectacular.
We have had our fill of the city for now, so today we set off heading south again, destination the Sorrento area and the Amalfi coast.
On our way south through France we did pass the time of day with several fellow Campervan/Caravan owners, who when we said we were headed for Sicily, muttered about the state of the roads. We were somewhat puzzled by this, since we had previously been as far South as Florence (by car), and Venice with the campervan. On these trips we had found the roads to be good, indeed the motorways were so well surfaced as to be billiard table like.
As we headed south of Rome we began to see what people were talking about. We did not know it as this stage, but this was only the beginning. First the simple things, road signs lack any distance information and road numbering information, plus the small detail that as we have found since entering Italy, they flout the EU standards on road signs, they have motorways signposted in green and all other roads in blue, unlike every other country in the EU, so arguments between the satnav and Kathleen increased dramatically. Then the potholes, even on major roads it was not uncommon to have to reduce speed to 30mph to avoid having everything shaken loose and flying about the van.
As we reach Naples, the roads get even worse, some sections are made of paving stone sized cobles (in the style the Romans made roads I think, from seeing Pompei later) and they are far from flat, so it is like driving across a ploughed field. Although it is only shortly after midday, the sky darkens and a massive thunderstorm erupts. As we join the “Ring road” to skirt Naples, we are met with a river of water running down the slip road off the major road (don’t they have drains here?). Once on the ring road, which is mostly reduced to single file traffic by road works, we are unfortunate enough to get behind a Tata pickup truck, driven by the only Italian who wants to travel at 20mph. Eventually I see a chance to overtake (it is a no overtaking zone, but by now I have entered the spirit of things and I am ignoring such details), as I begin to overtake, oncoming cars flash frantically, they are warning me there is a “Carbenari” up ahead, so I pull back in an crawl along at 20mph. The rain stops as quickly as it began, and we get a magnificent view of Vesuvius, cloud still clinging to its summit as we leave Naples and head for our site on the peninusular beside Salerno. As we approach the coast, we see the shape of things to come on this section of coast, the road is narrow, and twists along a ledge on a cliff, occasionally plunging into a tunnel, the views are spectacular, with villages perched precariously on the steep edge, and the blue of the sea 50 to 100 feet below, usually but not always with a crash barrier between us and it. Several times I am forcefully told to watch the road and not the view, as Kathleen’s anxiety level increases.
Eventually we come to yet another 90 degree bend and plunge into a tunnel which emerges about a kilometre later in Vico Equense. Following the sat nav instructions we edge around an impossibly tight bend and begin to descend a narrow twisting road to the actual shoreline. Although we have doubts that this tiny road can lead us anywhere except a dead end the trusty Tomtom brings us to the entrance of the campsite. We are met by the English speaking owner, who directs us to a pitch and gives us the low down on where everything is. He is very pleasant and helpful, but I think in an earlier life he must have been a school teacher, since he speaks to us throughout as if we were 5 year olds.
The site is small, there is so little flat ground here, it is hard to imagine why they use any of for a campsite!, but everything works and it clean. Most of the other Vans and Caravans are German, one brave soul is even towing a “Smart Car” behind him. But next to us is a Spanish registered van, the owners however are English, having moved to Spain some 30 years ago, they travel the rest of Europe in a Campervan when the fancy takes them, since they are both very sprightly 70 year olds, it is not doing them any harm.
The next day we decide to visit Sorrento, first we catch a bus in the village by the sea. This in itself is an experience, there appears to be no timetable, the chap in the bar next to the bus stop assures us the bus will come, just have another drink. Patience is not a virtue with one of us. The bus eventually arrives and takes us along the impossibly narrow and twisty road with much honking of the horn (but little slowing down) at each blind hairpin bend, and deposits us at the Railway station in Vico Equense. We buy our tickets and try to figure out which of the platforms we need. Some guesswork from the announcements takes us to platform two where (in time) a train for Sorrento arrives. We duly arrive, and spend a few hours exploring this attractive little place, before we retire to a pavement café to watch the world go by. Then we return to the railway station and make our way back to Vico Equense. We decide against waiting for the bus to take us down the hill (there is no bar to wait in), so we walk, not so bad going downhill, and the views are spectacular.
Monday 25 May 2009
Monday April 20th 2009 - Wednesday April 22nd 2009
Happy Village and Camping, Rome (ACSI2009-1560) N42.00342 E12.45313
Who thinks up these names?, this place is not only called Happy Village, but it also has a Happy bus to take you to the railway station so you can get the train into Rome.
The site has very good facilities including wifi connection. It is a bit cramped, but that is the norm we have found at the sites which are primarily used by people who want access to a major city.
The site is actually at a place called Prima Porta (a sort of Italian Jarrow), effectively a suburb of Rome. As I said above, there is a mini bus to take you to the station to get the train. It is a bit of a white knuckle drive, a bit like formula 1 in a Ford Transit mini bus, with stray traffic crossing the track randomly without signals. We arrive at the station in one piece and buy our day ticket for 4Euro each, this will take us to Rome and back, allow unlimited us of the metro in Rome for the day, and unlimited us of the bus/tram in Rome for the day (not a bad deal).
First we walk from the railway station to Vatican City, not too bad a walk (about 20 minutes). We do St Peters etc, it is very hot and very busy, but impressive in a sort of impress with power sort of way, rather than the quiet and dignified ambience of Assisi, plus the top man has not put in an appearance for us, rather disappointing when we have come all of this way and Kathleen at least is a fully paid up member.
Next we head off for the Colliseaum etc. The original plan is to get the metro, but no blame apportioned, the plan is not followed.
This is a big mistake, it is quite a distance and very hot. Tempers are frayed. Eventually we stop for lunch and have a passable pizza and a drop of red wine, tempers (temporarily cool). When we pay the bill, we find the is a 6Euro “cover” charge on top of the cost of the food and wine, apparently this is “normal” in Rome. Tempers warm again.
Eventually, we find the Colliseam, along with various enormous statues etc. It is all on a huge scale, and amazingly well preserved. It is hard to imagine that over 2000 years ago, without any mechanisation people good build on this scale, and of course that most of it would still be (more or less) standing 2000 years later. We get our dose of culture, and head for the metro station (which is conveniently right opposite the Colliseaum, how thoughtful of those Romans, best not to say too much about that).
We use the metro to travel to the Trevi Fountain, the last of “must see” tourist attractions for the day. It is indeed an amazing site, a massive fountain with numerous larger than life statues in white marble, the down side is it is very crowded.
Just time for a quick ice cream, and then back on the metro to the railway station.
Who thinks up these names?, this place is not only called Happy Village, but it also has a Happy bus to take you to the railway station so you can get the train into Rome.
The site has very good facilities including wifi connection. It is a bit cramped, but that is the norm we have found at the sites which are primarily used by people who want access to a major city.
The site is actually at a place called Prima Porta (a sort of Italian Jarrow), effectively a suburb of Rome. As I said above, there is a mini bus to take you to the station to get the train. It is a bit of a white knuckle drive, a bit like formula 1 in a Ford Transit mini bus, with stray traffic crossing the track randomly without signals. We arrive at the station in one piece and buy our day ticket for 4Euro each, this will take us to Rome and back, allow unlimited us of the metro in Rome for the day, and unlimited us of the bus/tram in Rome for the day (not a bad deal).
First we walk from the railway station to Vatican City, not too bad a walk (about 20 minutes). We do St Peters etc, it is very hot and very busy, but impressive in a sort of impress with power sort of way, rather than the quiet and dignified ambience of Assisi, plus the top man has not put in an appearance for us, rather disappointing when we have come all of this way and Kathleen at least is a fully paid up member.
Next we head off for the Colliseaum etc. The original plan is to get the metro, but no blame apportioned, the plan is not followed.
This is a big mistake, it is quite a distance and very hot. Tempers are frayed. Eventually we stop for lunch and have a passable pizza and a drop of red wine, tempers (temporarily cool). When we pay the bill, we find the is a 6Euro “cover” charge on top of the cost of the food and wine, apparently this is “normal” in Rome. Tempers warm again.
Eventually, we find the Colliseam, along with various enormous statues etc. It is all on a huge scale, and amazingly well preserved. It is hard to imagine that over 2000 years ago, without any mechanisation people good build on this scale, and of course that most of it would still be (more or less) standing 2000 years later. We get our dose of culture, and head for the metro station (which is conveniently right opposite the Colliseaum, how thoughtful of those Romans, best not to say too much about that).
We use the metro to travel to the Trevi Fountain, the last of “must see” tourist attractions for the day. It is indeed an amazing site, a massive fountain with numerous larger than life statues in white marble, the down side is it is very crowded.
Just time for a quick ice cream, and then back on the metro to the railway station.
Friday April 17th 2009 - Sunday April 19th 2009
Camping Village Assisi (ACSI2009-1438) N43.07582 E12.57336
Although the site is good, and the area looks like good cycling country (ie nice and flat), we decide given the weather to push on South and see if we can get an improvement. So we head for Assisi, which Kathleen is keen to visit for the religious content if nothing else.
We arrive in sunshine, hurrah. Site is good, and runs a mini bus to Assisi. It is in cycling or walking distance, but it is a hill town and the hill is quite steep.
So we do both of course, first we walk most of the way there along a very pleasant path by a stream. The next day we get the bikes off the bike rack for the first time this trip and cycle to Assisi along a pleasant and quiet road. Finally we take the mini bus from the site and spend the day exploring Assisi. It is a beautiful place, obviously a bit touristy given its fame, but still pleasant and for the most part quiet. We stay until Sunday, so Kathleen can attend mass (at St Maria Maddaliena), and then on Monday, we will be off again, still south, this time to Rome (we are maxing out on Culture).
Although the site is good, and the area looks like good cycling country (ie nice and flat), we decide given the weather to push on South and see if we can get an improvement. So we head for Assisi, which Kathleen is keen to visit for the religious content if nothing else.
We arrive in sunshine, hurrah. Site is good, and runs a mini bus to Assisi. It is in cycling or walking distance, but it is a hill town and the hill is quite steep.
So we do both of course, first we walk most of the way there along a very pleasant path by a stream. The next day we get the bikes off the bike rack for the first time this trip and cycle to Assisi along a pleasant and quiet road. Finally we take the mini bus from the site and spend the day exploring Assisi. It is a beautiful place, obviously a bit touristy given its fame, but still pleasant and for the most part quiet. We stay until Sunday, so Kathleen can attend mass (at St Maria Maddaliena), and then on Monday, we will be off again, still south, this time to Rome (we are maxing out on Culture).
Thursday April 16th 2009
Italia, Torre del Lago Puccini (ACSI2009-1586) N43.82905 E 10.27062
Today we actually enter Italy, so we are really on our way to Sicily. We have to pass by some busy areas, so contrary to our usual practice, we take the motorway. It is quite an amazing ride, here the mountains sweep right down to the coast and the motorway swoops along at some height from the coast, into tunnel after tunnel and over viaduct after viaduct. It sure is a major feat of engineering. But ultimately after you have seen numerous tunnels, and sweeping viaducts supported on spindly concrete legs as they sweep over steep sided valleys, it all becomes a bit boring. Eventually we arrive at Torre del Lago Puccini, and get ourselves settled in. The weather however is not on our side. We really should not have gloated about the weather to Bryan & Joan, it was not a good idea. Now we have torrential rain, the upside is that the site is good and it is not cold!
Today we actually enter Italy, so we are really on our way to Sicily. We have to pass by some busy areas, so contrary to our usual practice, we take the motorway. It is quite an amazing ride, here the mountains sweep right down to the coast and the motorway swoops along at some height from the coast, into tunnel after tunnel and over viaduct after viaduct. It sure is a major feat of engineering. But ultimately after you have seen numerous tunnels, and sweeping viaducts supported on spindly concrete legs as they sweep over steep sided valleys, it all becomes a bit boring. Eventually we arrive at Torre del Lago Puccini, and get ourselves settled in. The weather however is not on our side. We really should not have gloated about the weather to Bryan & Joan, it was not a good idea. Now we have torrential rain, the upside is that the site is good and it is not cold!
Thursday April 9th 2009 to Wednesday April 15th 2009
Le Pont d’Argens, St Aygulf near Frejus (ACSI2009-1293) N43.40884 E 6.72511
We return to an old faithful.
Probably not the best site in the area in terms of tidiness and modernity of facilities, but everything works and it is clean. But on the plus side there is a traffic free cycle track (once you have diced with death to cross the road at the site entrance. There is a big supermarket about five minutes away on a bicycle, and more importantly there is a church in St Aygulf because tomorrow is Good Friday and a visit to church will be a must for Kathleen. Another plus, if this is your thing, the beach can be reached via a gate at the rear of the site and part of the beach is for nudists. Don’t get too excited, all I have ever seen there is old men exposing their wrinkles.
We return to an old faithful.
Probably not the best site in the area in terms of tidiness and modernity of facilities, but everything works and it is clean. But on the plus side there is a traffic free cycle track (once you have diced with death to cross the road at the site entrance. There is a big supermarket about five minutes away on a bicycle, and more importantly there is a church in St Aygulf because tomorrow is Good Friday and a visit to church will be a must for Kathleen. Another plus, if this is your thing, the beach can be reached via a gate at the rear of the site and part of the beach is for nudists. Don’t get too excited, all I have ever seen there is old men exposing their wrinkles.
Wednesday April 8th 2009
La Pradal, Anduze, near Ales (ACSI2009-1175) N44.06228 E3.98273
A pretty site on the River Gardon.
A pleasant walk into the village of Anduze and a chance to stretch our legs after driving. The weather has perked up, and we have sunshine again. Everything looks so much better in the sunshine.
At this stage I could have included some photographs, but the cable to allow them to be downloaded from the camera has been forgotten. Self preservation prevents me from saying who forgot said cable, but there are only two of use here, and it was not me.
The owners are very friendly and helpful and allow us to sit on their balcony so that we can use their wifi connection for free.
A pretty site on the River Gardon.
A pleasant walk into the village of Anduze and a chance to stretch our legs after driving. The weather has perked up, and we have sunshine again. Everything looks so much better in the sunshine.
At this stage I could have included some photographs, but the cable to allow them to be downloaded from the camera has been forgotten. Self preservation prevents me from saying who forgot said cable, but there are only two of use here, and it was not me.
The owners are very friendly and helpful and allow us to sit on their balcony so that we can use their wifi connection for free.
Tuesday April 7th 2009
La Croix St-Martin, Abrest/Vichy (ACSI2009-1001) N46.10764 E3.43667
The rain has given way to damp overcast with drizzle as we arrive at La Croix St-Martin, alongside the River Allier. It is a shame, because we are told at the site checkin, that there is a pleasant walk/cycle ride along the river into Vichy.
We had to pass through Vichy to get here and it certainly looked to be a pleasant place in a sort of faded grandeur way.
But it is too wet to walk or cycle in, so the bikes stay firmly on their rack and we decide we will stay here for the night and then push on south, with this place marked down as a good possible for a future trip.
This does have a sort of deja-vue feeling to it, we always have the best of intentions to linger on our way south through France, but almost always we get caught up in the excitement of heading for the sun, and cannot contain ourselves.
The rain has given way to damp overcast with drizzle as we arrive at La Croix St-Martin, alongside the River Allier. It is a shame, because we are told at the site checkin, that there is a pleasant walk/cycle ride along the river into Vichy.
We had to pass through Vichy to get here and it certainly looked to be a pleasant place in a sort of faded grandeur way.
But it is too wet to walk or cycle in, so the bikes stay firmly on their rack and we decide we will stay here for the night and then push on south, with this place marked down as a good possible for a future trip.
This does have a sort of deja-vue feeling to it, we always have the best of intentions to linger on our way south through France, but almost always we get caught up in the excitement of heading for the sun, and cannot contain ourselves.
Monday April 6th 2009
Baie de Somme and Mery-sur-Cher
We arrive to a foggy Calais at about 1-00am. There are the usual groups of asylum seekers hanging about, waiting to try and hide themselves on a UK bound HGV, but no problem to us.
We feel awake enough to decide to head a little way south, so we join the free motorway from Calais which runs along the coast past the infamous Sangatte. We head for a motorway aire at Baie de Somme.
We have been there before and know it is a well lit area with toilet and eating facilities and usually at least half a dozen or so campervans and caravans overnighting there. Sure enough we find a few German, French, and Dutch campervans there when we arrive, plus a GB caravan outfit, so we settle down for what is left of the night and have a sleep. We wake to find the fog has lifted, but it is damp and overcast.
After breakfast and the usual morning ablutions off we go, south as we will be doing for quite a while to come, now heading for an aire at Mery-sur-Cher, near Veirzon. Again a stop over we have used before, it will take about ten vans, and has Electric hook up, water and a toilet, all for 2Euro per night.
We are in no rush, so we leave the motorway before the toll starts and travel via the “N” and “D” roads, this saves us fuel as well as tolls, since if we keep the speed down to 60mph maximum we can achieve 30mpg or better, plus the scenery is more interesting as you wend your way through rural France. We arrive in full sunshine, there are three or four vans already in residence, a couple of French, a German and another GB who we find as we chat to them over the inevitable glass or two of red in the evening sunshine are on their way home after being in Spain since January.
Next morning we wake to rain, knew we should not have sent that gloating text message to Joan and Brian!. Off we go heading for Vichy and hopefully better weather.
We arrive to a foggy Calais at about 1-00am. There are the usual groups of asylum seekers hanging about, waiting to try and hide themselves on a UK bound HGV, but no problem to us.
We feel awake enough to decide to head a little way south, so we join the free motorway from Calais which runs along the coast past the infamous Sangatte. We head for a motorway aire at Baie de Somme.
We have been there before and know it is a well lit area with toilet and eating facilities and usually at least half a dozen or so campervans and caravans overnighting there. Sure enough we find a few German, French, and Dutch campervans there when we arrive, plus a GB caravan outfit, so we settle down for what is left of the night and have a sleep. We wake to find the fog has lifted, but it is damp and overcast.
After breakfast and the usual morning ablutions off we go, south as we will be doing for quite a while to come, now heading for an aire at Mery-sur-Cher, near Veirzon. Again a stop over we have used before, it will take about ten vans, and has Electric hook up, water and a toilet, all for 2Euro per night.
We are in no rush, so we leave the motorway before the toll starts and travel via the “N” and “D” roads, this saves us fuel as well as tolls, since if we keep the speed down to 60mph maximum we can achieve 30mpg or better, plus the scenery is more interesting as you wend your way through rural France. We arrive in full sunshine, there are three or four vans already in residence, a couple of French, a German and another GB who we find as we chat to them over the inevitable glass or two of red in the evening sunshine are on their way home after being in Spain since January.
Next morning we wake to rain, knew we should not have sent that gloating text message to Joan and Brian!. Off we go heading for Vichy and hopefully better weather.
Sunday April 5th 2009
It is Sunday, and that of course can mean only one thing. Kathleen must go to church. One of our little rituals, but no matter where we have travelled Kathleen has always managed to attend Mass on a Sunday. Today is easy, we already know where the church is, since we have been here several times before, so we leave the van on the Drive, and walk the 15 minutes or so to the church, since the weather is still pleasant and warm. As usual I amuse myself by buying a Sunday paper and reading it whilst Kathleen attends Church.
Church over, we return to Gary & Susana’s place, ensure that all is locked up, and head off around the southern part of the M25 towards our next stop, my brother Brian’s at Rainham, Kent. Again the M25 is behaving itself, this must be a record, and have a trouble free journey to arrive at Brian and Linda’s house to the usual warm welcome.
Brian has expressed an interest in buying a Campervan, so we negotiate the narrow and (it has to be said) bumpy!, private road to their house, where we manoeuvre the van onto the drive just to prove it will be possible for him to park a campervan there. One of his neighbours (opposite) has kindly made a wide tarmac area opposite to Brian’s drive which makes to whole task much easier than it might otherwise have been.
After this excitement, we are driven to Chatham by Brian, and the four of us, have a pleasant walk around the area which was once the Royal Dockyard, but which has now been reclaimed and has a pleasant marina type development with associated walking and cycling trails. Mindful of what happened last time Linda rode a bike (she gave birth to twins), we wisely opt to use only the walking trails!
Back at chez Reay, we are treated to an excellent Sunday lunch and the company of the three Reay girls (Rebecca, Victoria and Michaela). We see them only infrequently and as usual it is a surprise to find how they have grown.
We linger a while into the evening sharing the usual family talk, before leaving to head along the M2 toward Dover where our Sea France ferry is due to leave at 3AM Monday morning. The weather has now deteriorated and we have thick fog. Despite the fog we arrive in plenty of time as intended. Our plan is one of two possibilities, either by arriving early we will be put on an earlier ferry, or we will be able to bed down on the Quayside at Dover and have a nap before catching the ferry (the advantages of a campervan). In the event the fog has caused some delays to the ferry services and at 11-00pm we are put on the delayed 10-00pm sailing. So the adventure begins
Church over, we return to Gary & Susana’s place, ensure that all is locked up, and head off around the southern part of the M25 towards our next stop, my brother Brian’s at Rainham, Kent. Again the M25 is behaving itself, this must be a record, and have a trouble free journey to arrive at Brian and Linda’s house to the usual warm welcome.
Brian has expressed an interest in buying a Campervan, so we negotiate the narrow and (it has to be said) bumpy!, private road to their house, where we manoeuvre the van onto the drive just to prove it will be possible for him to park a campervan there. One of his neighbours (opposite) has kindly made a wide tarmac area opposite to Brian’s drive which makes to whole task much easier than it might otherwise have been.
After this excitement, we are driven to Chatham by Brian, and the four of us, have a pleasant walk around the area which was once the Royal Dockyard, but which has now been reclaimed and has a pleasant marina type development with associated walking and cycling trails. Mindful of what happened last time Linda rode a bike (she gave birth to twins), we wisely opt to use only the walking trails!
Back at chez Reay, we are treated to an excellent Sunday lunch and the company of the three Reay girls (Rebecca, Victoria and Michaela). We see them only infrequently and as usual it is a surprise to find how they have grown.
We linger a while into the evening sharing the usual family talk, before leaving to head along the M2 toward Dover where our Sea France ferry is due to leave at 3AM Monday morning. The weather has now deteriorated and we have thick fog. Despite the fog we arrive in plenty of time as intended. Our plan is one of two possibilities, either by arriving early we will be put on an earlier ferry, or we will be able to bed down on the Quayside at Dover and have a nap before catching the ferry (the advantages of a campervan). In the event the fog has caused some delays to the ferry services and at 11-00pm we are put on the delayed 10-00pm sailing. So the adventure begins
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