apathtosomewhere

In our van, we sleep with a duvet with two “emergency” blankets tucked down the side to cover us in the middle of the night, when The Pupster who sleeps on the bed with us, decides to hog all the duvet and leaves human limbs exposed to the elements. This morning was no exception except The Pupster had surpassed herself by acquiring both emergency blankets and the duvet. And there she laid, flat on her back, paws up in the air, gently snoring and being a total unmovable sack of potatoes……

It had rained overnight and there were still passing showers. After a fabulous hot and powerful shower, we headed to the cafe for breakfast. The Poles and Europeans in general don’t really make a fuss of dogs and we haven’t really seen many dogs out and about, but practically every establishment we have visited has welcomed our dog in and offered water for her. And the cafe this morning was no exception.

It was a self service affair with a selection of cereals, cheeses, meats, toast, cakes, rolls and eggs with juices, tea and coffee. A little Polish girl wanted to stroke the Pupster and with mum speaking very good English, we struck up a lovely conversation which was wonderful. She even taught us how to pronounce Lodz which is “Woo-dg” – (of course it is). No wonder we had been getting blank looks from everyone when asked where we were heading and we pronounced it the way it was spelt. 🙈.

I had to smile later, standing behind a family of Germans trying to pay. They couldn’t speak fluent Polish, the server couldn’t speak German so both parties spoke English. Fabulous and it made me feel so much better for my pathetic linguistic attempts .

With no accommodation booked for tonight, a quick internet search found a tiny campsite in Chlebów, a little hamlet in the middle of nowhere – it sounded perfect. We made a phone call to the owner to see if we needed to book in. The owner told us he spoke a little English, but was better at German. So we had this bizarre conversation with me speaking the limited German that I remembered from my schooldays and not used since (zwei persons, ein hund und eine campervan) and hubby topping it up with a bit of English. Between us we ascertained that if we just rocked up, there would be space (hopefully).

We took the Van into Torun to the edge of the old town as we had a mission to buy gingerbread (which the town is famous for) from a particularly recommended shop. We parked in a manned car park which didn’t have any English on its two noticeboards of rules and regulations (Google Translate came to the rescue and I figured it was 8 Polish zlotys for an hour) and quickly made the transaction with a rather dour chap in a kiosk who made no further demands. We wandered up to the shop and within minutes had accomplished our mission. With two boxes, we headed across the way for a celebratory coffee – again another Pole with excellent English – and ordered gingerbread coffees. We thought the girl was asking what flavour gingerbread we fancied in our coffee or what flavoured biscuit to accompany said coffee, but the brief negotiations got mangled across the counter and we ended up with another box of gingerbread. The coffees, by the way, were sweet, but delicious.

The day was still overcast and moody, threatening rain all the time as we headed out of town towards Plock. We stopped briefly for fuel and on the edge of Plock, we stopped at a Lidl for a top up of provisions. I spent an inordinately amount of time in there that hubby nearly sent in a rescue party, but trying to figure out the different types of milk and hunting for non existent citronella candles ate up the time as well as an inordinately long queue for the one till that was open (I wasn’t brave enough to do the self service tills – I have enough trouble in England with “unexpected items in the bagging area”). By the time I had got out, a heavy rainstorm had passed through.

We were not in a rush, just gently cruising through the countryside with the weather improving and getting warmer. It was a mixture of woodlands and farmland, gently rolling one minute to being quite flat the next, all very pretty. We hadn’t seen a single mountain on this trip yet – as much as this countryside was lovely, we were starting to pine for a few major hills and valleys.

McDonalds seems to be very big in Poland – regularly bobbing up in towns and on major junctions. It’s one of very few global corporations that we’ve seen here and that’s fine by me.

The hubby had been sorting out directions for the next section of the journey towards our campsite in Chlebow, while I had been faffing around in Lidl, but didn’t really tell me of his plans until we were back on the road. As I was chief navigator and spotter of all speed cameras, pedestrians, oncoming cars and other driving impediments whilst hubby did the driving (we had agreed upon this beforehand and I’m apparently very good at this role). So it wasn’t helpful when I asked where we were going (in case the satnav threw a wobbly) and the reply I received was a mixture of “I don’t know” “I think it begins with L” or just say a made up destination that sounded like you’re bringing up a furball. At any angle, it was not at all useful.

(We had our first “oops we have gone wrong and need to turn around” moment in the town of Wloclawek when the satnav did have a wobbly and kept taking us round the block and refusing to go any further. We took the matter into our own hands and overrode the computer which caused it to have a meltdown telling us to go left, then right and probably muttering an expletive – we found a quiet side road to reset and luckily found ourselves heading in the right direction and after replumbing the satnav, normal service was resumed).

We were heading to Lowicz, following the satnav who now decided that we needed a bit of excitement in our lives (and possible payback for assuming control earlier) and took us down the most bumpiest, potholed, badly repaired, narrowest rural lanes it could possibly find. With hubby driving on the right side, he found it hard to judge how close he was to oncoming cars passing on my side – luckily we were able to drive onto the verge to pass safely. It was a fascinating environment – the earlier woodlands and lakes had given way to flat arable farming land with scattered communities along the way. These villages were a mixture of old traditional housing with fairly new modern ones, some of which were particularly opulent. We wondered who lived here as it was basically farming and it didn’t warrant such fancy housing, but looking at the map, we noticed that Warsaw and Lodz were in close proximity – perhaps these people liked the rural life and commuted into the cities or were retired or worked from home. It was a fascinating combination.

We stopped briefly in Lowicz’s town square wondering whether to go for a walk, have something to eat or go to our campsite and chill. We voted for the third option and finally came across our destination in the middle of nowhere at the end of a row of smallholdings. We turned down a track and found ourselves in an orchard area with little camping bays. We found our chap we spoke to this morning and after telling us about the facilities, told us to find a spot. Our first choice in one of the bays, didn’t quite float our boat and a quick investigation found us relocating to the very back where it opened up with a fabulous view across the cornfields with woodlands in the distance and big skies.

Just absolutely perfect and just the sort of campsite that we love.

We quickly set up as another dark broody cloud threatened to rain on us. We set up the table and had a picky tea, listening to the chickens and ducks clucking next door. The chap came round and charged us £15 for the night which was incredibly cheap. The Pupster had a huge field to burn up all that energy she had stored up on her charging mat – she had a marvellous zoomie moment, found apples to fling around and to chase her ball. She was a happy hound.

There were about another 5 campers down our end of the site, but we hardly saw them. It was so quiet, peaceful and relaxing with the sun setting behind a distant woodland. We couldn’t have found a more perfect place to stay.

Tomorrow we’re hoping to meet up with our friends who started all this a few weeks ago in Spain.

Well, there didn’t seem to be any thunderstorms last night or we slept through them which is entirely possible.

We have tea and biscuits in bed and then decided to have an early start. Handed the key back to our host and I got to practice my only bit of Polish “thank you”. Felt accomplished!

We decided to head to Orzechowo near Ustka further along the coast, but had to go inland to get there – there didn’t seem to be a coastal road to follow which was a shame. We turned off the main road and down into the woods where we found a hotel complex hidden amongst the trees – very discreet. We parked up in the car park and walked through the woods until we reached the sea. The Pupster literally pulled me onto the beach in her excitement. And wow, what a beautiful piece of coastline. The sea is eroding the coastline, eating into the woodland causing the trees to tumble into the surf – there are fallen tree trunks everywhere. But so natural – there were a few people walking along the sand, enjoying the peace and quiet, the stunning scenery and the waves crashing onto the beach. This was what we were looking for and not an icecream kiosk in sight!

It was lunchtime by the time we lured the Pupster out of her watery heaven, so we made a cuppa and had a small snack in the van. We agreed to have a motorway day to get to Torun and headed towards the junction and noted yet again how cycle paths were incorporated alongside major roads and people used them. We had seen them all across Europe and wished we had more of them in England – though saying that, it is very flat around here!

It was a long journey and not inspiring on the motorway, though the countryside was pleasant and became more rolling. We came across our first motorway toll and I had to deal with leaning out of the window and grabbing a ticket and then wondering what the procedure was for paying for it. At the Torun turn off, there were another toll booth which was thankfully manned and took card payments which was a relief. I practiced my Polish thank you on the staff member but she didn’t look impressed!

We entered the eastern outskirts of Torun to be met by Soviet style apartment blocks and wondered if we got the right place as it is supposed to be very pretty. For several miles, it was car showrooms and light industry and other businesses. Our campsite for the night was on the south side of the River Vistula in a suburb, with woodland on one side and a busy road on the other. It was actually quite nice with a hotel and a bar/cafe – breakfast was sorted for tomorrow – and decent washrooms.

We set the van up and put the awning up too as it was threatening to rain – which it did. Short and sharp. We decided to go into town for food and walked to the main road and over the iron bridge into town – about 20 minutes. Over to our right we could see the old town and within minutes, as we entered the town walls, was stunned by the beauty of it all.

It was busy with mingling tourists. There was a large square and a main thoroughfare with little side streets – ir was almost like a fairytale town. A mixture of architecture with a dominant church – it was beautiful. We bought a giant pretzel and pronounced the Polish word for sunflower so badly, that the young server broke into English in sympathy.

We had a wander around the streets and then back to the square for a place to eat where numerous restaurants had outdoor eating areas covered with adjoining parasols. We chose one particular popular restaurant and found a table – it was breezy and a bit cool, but there were heaters. We ordered food and drinks and The Pupster was in the middle of a dream, when the heavens opened! The rain ran down the canopies and in between the parasols, flooding tables including our own. We tried to relocate to another part of the outdoor area, but our lovely waiter stepped in. He dashed inside and secured us a table (which we didn’t expect as we had Pupster) which was a blessing in disguise as inside was so much nicer in decor and ambience.

We enjoyed a lovely meal and our waiter kept popping back to see if we were okay despite being one of the outdoor staff. He was a Torun native but was studying English in Portugal – he came back to work in Poland for the summer to save up in order to go back in September. We gave him a 20% tip as he had been absolutely brilliant looking after us, but when we converted it, it was only £10 and felt a bit miserly. Everything is so much cheaper here than the UK and makes you realise how expensive our country is.

We wandered back across the bridge as the light was going and decided to relax in bed. The main road beside the campsite had calmed down considerably though the adjacent railway line had trains rumbling along who blared their horns. It started to rain again and the rhythmic pattering on the van roof soon had us nodding……

Another cracking night’s sleep and woken at 7:30 with the fabulous news that England beat France 6-4 to get third place in the World Cup.

It’s overcast again, but not cold. We breakfast and manage to purchase 4 coffees instead of two. Hey ho. Then it starts to rain!!!!

We decided to head off and leave Lubben around 10am, following the A roads again. They are all very straight and wondered if there’s some Roman influence, but it’s a lovely route through woodlands. We are fascinated with the metal barriers protecting the trees on the roadside – sometimes just individual trees and the fabulous sign of a car hitting a tree and coming off worse!

The tunnel of trees give way to fields of sunflowers droopy under the heavy clouds, waiting for the sun to come out. Quite a few of the road side trees are clearly suffering with withered brown leaves – get the impression that it hasn’t rained for quite a while and the temperatures have been higher than normal. Sad to see.

We come up to Frankfurt (Oder), the last town in Germany before the border with Poland. There are hints of its communist past with apartment blocks dominating parts of the town, but it’s a nice city. We come up to the River Oder and cross into Poland as we cross the bridge. The remnants of the border control complex still stands, rusting and neglected, two police officers stood by their patrol car under the canopy as we passed. It’s so weird that we have travelled across four European countries and not once had to show our passports. As we’ve crossed into new countries, just a simple roadside blue sign with the EU stars signify this transition with the country’s name emblazoned across it and then you’re in a new country – it’s just like crossing county borders in England. It’s a weird concept, but an easy one!

We went through our first Polish town of Kostrzyn with a different currency (Poland didn’t sign up to the Euro) and a whole new language, but luckily similar road rules. Polish would fun to get the tongue round and within a few miles, just managed to learn “thank you”, thanks to Google Translate. This could be fun.

We followed the main road towards Stargard, wanting a break with coffee and a sandwich. This town seemed our best bet as there didn’t seem to be any lay-bys or picnic areas where we could munch our onboard supply of cheese. We found the cafe via Google Maps and after a quick U turn, we parked in a car park and waddled around. What Google failed to mention was it was a icecream parlour rather than a cafe, so we dejectedly went back to the Van and continued our journey north.

We were going to hit the coast, primarily to reward the Pupster for her perseverance with a beach. The route took us through lovely villages, pretty towns, woods and farmland, but remained resolutely flat. A few substantial hills would be good. Storks had made their nests high on poles which was fun to see. We pulled over briefly to raid the larder of a packet of biscuits to keep us going – it was Sunday and most places were shut so our options were limited.

Finally the coastal town of Mrzezyno loomed into view and we turned eastwards towards Dzwirzyno for a place to sleep – we hadn’t booked anything for tonight so had choices. We were on a long straight road with apartments and hotels in amongst the woodlands separating us from the sea which seemed quite nice, but then the further we went, it got busier with people and realised that it was heartland of all things touristy and garish. Amusement arcades, clothing shops, jewellery stalls, tourist gift shop tat, it had it all. The pavements were full of wandering tourists, young and old – it was like the worst of a British seaside town, but in woodland. This was not our scene and we carried on, hoping it would improve.

It was less frenetic the further we went, but we weren’t going to stay here. We pulled over to mull our options – we needed a campsite first – but with only biscuits as sustenance and driven for many hours, we weren’t in the mood for going round in circles. We did a quick google and found a potential place at Mielno some 18 miles further east. We would check that out and work from there.

Mielno was another busy tourist town, but seemed a bit more upmarket and less kiss me quick. We found Camping Mauritius down a quiet road and pulled in. It was very tiny and the guy who greeted us spoke hardly any English. We fumbled with Google Translate and then abandoned. Somehow we communicated our needs and somehow he obliged, though a woman appeared who spoke English and made things easier. We parked up, slightly cozily between a small caravan and large motorhome in a grassy car park opposite and made a cuppa.

We decided to eat at the Van and had a picnic of the cheese and other nibbles, very aware that the day hadn’t gone quite according to plan. The Pupster went off to say hello to our caravan neighbours (again neither of us spoke each other’s language but we got the message across). The Pupster could smell the sea air and was becoming impatient so we set off down the lane with other meandering tourists, to stretch our legs, popping out onto the main thoroughfare which was full of kebab shops, gift shops, arcades and anything else to amuse the passing visitor. Yuk! We quickly crossed the road down another side road and immediately, the atmosphere changed. It was less busy, much more pleasant and refined and at the bottom was the beach! We checked to see if any other dogs were there, but seeing none and unable to ascertain from the information boards, we walked down to the quieter end of the town, where we spotted hounds on the waters edge and went to join them. The Pupster went mad, not quite believing that she was here, doing zoomies as far as her extendable lead would allow. We walked along the surf, The Pupster running in and out of the waves. It was lovely to see her enjoying herself and so happy – she had spent so much time in the Van and she appreciates a very nice beach.

After a while, we retraced our steps as our phones pinged warnings of thunderstorms. We wandered back to the Van and decided to watch last night’s football match with a glass of beer. With the night drawing in, we started to shut the Van down, noticing some quite towering and threatening clouds to the west. Were these the storms heading our way. It could be an interesting night.

I ended up on the upstairs platform in the campervan as both hubby and hound crashed out and there was no space for me. It was okay really, but not going to make a habit of it.

We decided to hit the road early so skipped breakfast. We would find a cafe somewhere for an infusion of coffee and a breakfast bun. The day was overcast but warm as we headed down the back lanes from the campsite. After the monotony of yesterday’s epic motorway run, we decided we would do the nicer A roads and if necessary jump onto autobahns if we were running out of time. Another long drive of nearly 300 miles. Our lovely Dutch neighbours came over as they were leaving and shook our hands, wishing us safe journeys. Such a lovely couple.

We drove through woodland and reached a junction. To the right was a barrier and lots of signs – we soon realised that it was a military training area. We half expected a tank to appear out of the trees, but another car appeared and allayed any fears that we had accidentally trespassed onto army manoeuvres! The severe military signs melted away and the wooded area became woodland for walks and other outdoor facilities. It turned from Catterick to Clumber Park within half a mile!

The countryside turned into rolling farmland with huge woods interspersed. It reminded us of the Hambleton Hills, east of York with the red pantile roofs. It was very scenic and so much better than yesterday.

We came across an Aldi and I went inside for provisions. Bit flustered as a) we don’t shop in big supermarkets b) didn’t know where everything was and c) it was a lot of German products! Grabbed snacky tea items and some food and treats for Pupster and escaped. We wouldn’t starve now. We carried on – we still needed that breakfast and coffee, despite wolfing down one of those double packaged chocolate brioche bun things. Google found a potential place in Bad Gandersheim, just off the main road and we headed there and parked up. The first cafe looked nice, but flies buzzed in the chill counters, so we went across the road where there were tables and chairs on the pavement. The waiter approached me and spoke in German. I mangled his language, but we agreed between us that we required 2 coffees for starters. Hubby had gone inside and was negotiating two slices of creamy cake. We sat down outside and good job we were sitting – these slices, no they were more like slabs, were enormous, topped with cream and sauce. It was now 11:30 and we wouldn’t need feeding for the rest of the day!

We waddled back to the van and continued our journey east, through little villages and towns, past woodlands, hayfields and tree lined roads – it reminded us of the Canal Du Midi in France. Then it changed to huge industrial fields of wheat and corn stretching like a sun scorched plain.

By now the sun had come out and it warmed up considerably. The villages and towns were typically German, tidy and very pleasant. There were a few ancient buildings looking rather dishevelled and need of some TLC, but it was a lovely relaxing drive. What we did notice was that there was not a soul about – the shops seemed shut and if you saw one person, that warranted a comment. Where was everybody? It seemed that we were the only humans around – had there be an apocalyptic event that we weren’t aware of?

We decided to jump on the motorway at this point and headed east towards Berlin. It didn’t seem so busy and crazy like yesterday and no hold ups! We admired the huge amount of graffiti that adorned anything that didn’t move – mainly roadside fencing and bridges. Some of the artwork was daubed on the most inaccessible spots possible and we wondered how the artists achieved their mission.

We were soon coming into the town of Lubben where we pulled into another Lidl as I had forgotten to get wine and beer this morning before finding the Knaus camping ground and checked in at 5pm. We quickly set up between two trees which offered shade, just across the way from the main reception. We relaxed for a while and then headed off to town via the little bridge spanning the river and past the marina area which was delightful. Within 10 minutes we were in the centre deciding where to eat. We chose a lovely little restaurant by the Town Hall and opposite a square rather than the pizza place where live music was being played across the way. We initially sat inside, but it got quite warm and ended up on an outside table, which was perfect. We ordered tapas and drinks and enjoyed the evening warmth. An insistent wasp and his mate kept buzzing around which was slightly annoying, but it was lovely food and I practiced my German on the poor waitress – she kindly spoke English, thank goodness! Again ChatGPT and Google Translate helped with the menu – point the camera and the German melted into English. Fabulous!

The Pupster made friends on both tables on either side of us before lying down and enjoying the cool air. Later she played in the little fountain. We strolled back to the campsite where a singer was performing near the reception, so we sat in the van and listened to him entertaining the clientele of the Bistro. Mainly German songs, but very nice easy listening. As night fell, we realised that we could be in quite a noisy spot – a kiddie playground behind us and the main thoroughfare, but the kids went back to their respective tents/campers and the place settled down for the night.

Another fabulous day. Tomorrow we slip over the border to Poland and hopefully a beach for our very patient pup.

Slept like a log despite the Pupster hogging most of the bed. Woke up at 6:30, but laid in for another hour.

We got up to bright sunshine, showered and decided to walk back into town for breakfast. Found a different route to avoid the roadworks of last night, but still popped out by the river. So much easier.

We found a cafe overlooking the square, almost opposite to the restaurant we ate at last night and ordered breakfast and coffees. The square was full of parked cars with other vehicles circling the periphery including lots of bikes being ridden by everyone from young kids, teenagers, ladies in dresses, families and elderly people. It was fabulous to see so many people on bikes, joining the cars, vans and buses in the seemingly organised chaos of the town square traffic.

From our vantage point, we could also study the beautiful buildings and architecture, wondering how old it all was, considering it was one of the central battlefields of the World War One. After a bit of Googling, we discovered that Ieper was basically flattened during the First World War and then rebuilt within 10 years, exactly as it was before the hostilities. Everything was replicated including the intricate stone carvings, plaques, towers of the original medieval town. How amazing is that? It was stunning and anyone not knowing the history, would have thought it was just very well preserved. It wouldn’t happen today.

https://www.discoveringbelgium.com/the-reconstruction-of-ypres/

We waddled back to the campsite after finding yet another route through the woods, packed the van and hit the motorway towards Germany under the mistaken belief that it would be quicker ……….

We had 300 miles to cover through Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany, across a fairly flat landscape with corridors of industry with new modern buildings. Agriculture passed over to woodlands and back to fields as we skirted big cities, only to get caught up traffic queues around their ring roads – it must of added up to over an hour of lost time. The outside temperature hit 29 degrees.

The German autobahn proved interesting as we hurtled along at 70mph and felt that we were doing 40 as German motorists shot past us. We noted that with all the long delays we had encountered today, not one involved a collision which seemed amazing – it was just either roadworks or sheer volume of traffic.

After 6 hours of driving we were glad to find Campingplatz am Furlbach, get checked in and make a strong cup of Yorkshire tea. Think we were the only British vehicle there and with every sign written in German only, figured that Brits rarely visited. My appalling classroom German went completely AWOL so we either asked ChatGPT or used Google Translate to work out all the signs. I did manage a “Danke” and said good day instead of goodbye but felt accomplished. Thanks to Google, I also refreshed or learnt a few more basic words and phrases. It’s pretty shameful really, but thank goodness for technology!

Our plan today, as of yesterday too, was to stop at a supermarket before we arrived at the campsites and get some food in. Alas, we failed yet again to visit such a place and today relied on the few packets of crisps and biscuits we had on board. Tonight’s campsite did have a tiny shop and I came out feeling flushed having supplemented our meagre rations with two bottles of beer and a packet of plastic cheese.

We set up the van, met the couple next door from the Netherlands who were heading to Italy and settled down outside to eat the cheese. Afterward we walked the Pupster around the campsite and to have a nose. It was quite a big campsite with the pitches around the periphery having private enclosed areas which some had turned into proper little gardens. It seemed one of those places that catered for long term residents as well as tourers.

We returned to the reception area where on the large grassed area, there seemed a congregation of people listening to a speaker. They had food and drink laid on too. It was intriguing and we wanted to find out more, but my splattering of German wouldn’t stretch that far and we might be signed up for some organisation. We smiled and returned to our campervan, happy to listen to the person playing the accordion.

We sat outside until we felt a bit of rain which in turn, turned into an unexpected shower lasting a good 30 minutes. We retreated indoors and had to close the door as the rain was coming in (we couldn’t be bothered with our awning).

So we prepared for bed. The Pupster has been brilliant. She’s always been a great traveller, but at nearly 3 (hardly a pup I know) she just sleeps on her mat between us and barely moves. She’s now slept through 4 countries and Le Shuttle……..

Sorry there’s not many photos – motorway driving isn’t really conducive for such activity.

This sudden and totally spontaneous trip to Poland started off innocently enough in early June as we said goodbye to our Polish friends in Spain after staying with them for a week. Heading back to their homeland, they mentioned they needed to build a garage and an off the cuff remark of “we can come over and help” turned into a two week road trip to Lodz.

So on one warm Thursday morning in July we left home at 5am and headed to the M6, hoping to beat the morning rush hour around Manchester. The Pupster settled between the front seats and basically stayed there all day. Overall it was a good journey – M6, M1, M25 until we were approaching the Dartford Crossing and then we slithered to a halt and crawled glacially towards the bridge. It sounded by the radio traffic reports, that the whole area around the M25 was gridlocked and any thoughts of a sneaky detour were futile so we gritted our teeth and hung on in there.

It must of been a good 40 minutes before we were able to engage 3rd gear and we hurtled across the bridge to the M20, onwards to Folkestone and Le Shuttle. We were greeted by huge signs “Welcome to Le Shuttle” before stopping at a kiosk and being checked in by a member of staff who then declared that we needed to take Pupster to the Pet Reception and pointed vaguely in the distance.We didn’t really have a clue where to go and tentatively followed lanes lined with cones (hoping we were heading in the right direction) until we were ushered by staff to carry on and finally parked in a broad area of tarmac with several other campervans, motor homes and caravans.

We grabbed the Pupster and followed the signs to the Pet Reception, hoping the £100 plus piece of paper that acted as her passport was all present and correct. After a quick microchip scan, she was checked in and ready to hit France. We hit the Passenger Terminal for a well deserved coffee and headed back to the van to munch our previously purchased sarnies from one of our stops at the motorway services, enjoying the hot sun and fresh breeze. There was a large board announcing departures and when to go to border control so we kept an eye on that. Our 15:30 train had already been delayed by 40 minutes (like all the other trains that day) when Le Shuttle announced that they had “unexpectedly lost a number of their trains” (careless of them) which we found hilarious and quite mind boggling! The electronic announcement board inched closer to our number and we hoped to see “Go to Border Control” very soon. Sadly instead, we got “wait 23 minutes to be updated” and when that time was up, a further 15 minutes. This was getting rather frustrating. Then imagine our dismay, when our departure time was changed to 18:30! Despondent and desperate for the loo, we wandered back to the Passenger Terminal and finding it cool and air conditioned, decided to sit it out there. We hadn’t been there 10 minutes, when we were called to go to border control. Not quite believing it, we trotted back to the van, and meandered along with other vehicles around various roads until we hit another row of kiosks and our passports checked! Now this was more like it! Our next hurdle was the French customs about 100 yards beyond, but we were diverted to a shed on the side together with a Discovery and a Volvo. Oh no, hope this wasn’t going to be a full “empty the van” search, but all they did was waft a wand over our steering wheel and to check our gas was off (couldn’t check the actual bottle as they had parked the Discovery two inches off our back door) so we turned on the hob and burnt off the residue gas and that apparently satisfied them.

Finally we rejoined the queue for the French customs and then followed the signs for “Large Vehicles” as instructed. Another labyrinth of lanes, another kiosk and finally first in the queue in Lane 14 where a red traffic light halted us. We reckoned we had more than an hour to wait so we flung the doors open until we noticed the traffic light had turned green. Yikes! Back into the van, follow the coned lanes and we suddenly found ourselves on the platform for the Le Shuttle. We couldn’t quite believe it. After a short wait, we were ushered on, drove to the bottom of the carriage, parked, wound the windows down and breathed a sigh of relief. It was 5pm. Somehow we were late, but earlier than expected.

Le Shuttle is quite shabby really. Grubby and tired and losing trains unexpectedly, but it did its job and soon we were back in daylight in Calais. Easily escaped the terminal and began to follow the satnav to our campsite in Ypres. For some reason we had told the satnav not to take motorways, so we had a rather scenic route through some very agricultural landscapes with acres of harvested corn fields, sweetcorn and other crops interspersed with pretty villages – it was like driving through Suffolk – which was lovely, but a bit time consuming.

We arrived at the Urban Garden campsite in Ieper at 8:30pm and promptly made a cup of tea. A quick check out of the site – which was full of British vehicles – and we were soon recommended to walk to the town centre some 12 minutes walk away. We all needed to stretch our legs so we followed a woodland path that came to a road which in turn was cordoned off for roadworks. A British couple had sneaked across by slipping through the railings surrounding the works and we snucked across too. We walked along the river until we reached the magnificent Menin Gate, a memorial for over 54,000 men killed during World War One. It was quite thought provoking to look at the names and the sheer number of them. It sent a shiver down the spine.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Menin_Gate

We walked through the Gate and down the beautiful main thoroughfare before it opened up into a fabulous square, surrounded by the most amazing architecture. It was stunning. We found a lovely restaurant with a terrace and settled down for a celebratory drink and some food. Being slightly overwhelmed with our day, we failed to realise that it was 9:50pm and the menu stated that last food orders were 9:30pm. But the wonderful waiter checked with the kitchen and gave us the full menu. We chose a quick snack as it was so late and felt a tad guilty. The waiter struck up conversation with us through the Pupster and managed to end up talking about Ypres war history and his 20 year old grandfather fighting, getting captured twice and escaping twice, the second time with success and ending up in England. We even got a photo of the young man. It was fascinating.

We said our goodbyes and waddled back to Van in the dark and basically crashed.

At home, with fail, The Pup wakes us up by whimpering and pacing around 6am. She’s a Labrador and therefore starving. If we’re not quick enough, we get booped by a wet nose until our resolve gives in and we head off to make her breakfast. However, in the campervan, she sleeps in. No desperation for food or relieving herself. I awoke at 6am to find her curled up under the duvet and half expected her to start her list of demands. But no – it was gone 9am before she started to fidget and we finally got up.

It’s quite cold in the van so the heater went on. Outside it’s eerily misty with the sun unable to poke through and a heavy dew dripping from the awning. We did our ablutions, tidied up, washed our breakfast things and decided to go for a walk. The mist has lifted, but it’s still very hazy – though strangely warmer than the conditions suggest. We decided to walk into Leyburn and followed a couple of hikers dressed in thick coats, woolly hats and gloves. I’ve just got a thick jumper and my gilet on and feeling hot. Am I going to regret this?

It’s a pleasant walk through fields to town and we had a quick walk around though it’s Sunday and lots of the shops are shut. We walked past the pet shop with a bowl of drinking water and a brimful pot of doggy biscuits outside. The Pup does have manners and delicately helped herself to one little gravy bone though she would have had more. I just images of a large dog just inhaling the lot in one go as it passed. Lovely idea though.

We wandered out to the edge of town before turning right through a modern housing estate before being burped out into countryside again. There were really no outstanding views with the misty conditions, but it was warm. We dropped down into the village of Harmby again and walked past a little sign marked “waterfall”. Hidden behind housing and just off the road was a little glen/steep valley with a cascading waterfall at one end. Without the little sign, you wouldn’t know it was there. It fed a little beck that tumbled down the hill surrounded by tall trees – a beautiful little gem of a place. We followed the dirt path and found ourselves in a little estate of bungalows shortly after. We trotted down to the main road and picked up our footpath that cuts across from Harmby to our little camping site.

Once back, The Pup retired to her dog bed outside and watched blackbirds looking for worms. The birds were in full flow with their singing again and it was so peaceful. We chilled with a cuppa before making some lunch. Afterwards we sat inside the van with the side door open as it was a bit cool and the sky seemed to darken one minute and lighten up the next. A really weird day.

It was soon time to break camp and pack away which was done fairly leisurely. Richard walked past and explained that it was so cold last night that there was ice in his water pipes at 6:30 that morning. Blimey! Just love British weather! We said our goodbyes and headed back along Wensleydale, a wide broad dale with the River Ure running through its valley bottom. Through little villages – West Witton, Aysgarth, Bainbridge and Hawes before climbing out of Wensleydale and over the tops to Ingleton. The weather was still undecided – looking decidedly black as if it was about to storm to seeng the sun briefly puncture a hole through the foreboding clouds. Weird. We arrived home, and settled down for the evening, thoroughly refreshed and relaxed. Just perfect.

With good weather forecast over the weekend, I decided to head to Leyburn with The Pup for a couple of days camping – the first of 2026.

So we headed off early and with only just over an hour to travel in the trusted campervan, we soon found ourselves in Leyburn, a pretty Yorkshire Dales town on the east side of the Pennines. I parked up and went to the local Co-Op for some provisions and then some cheese straws from Thomas the Baker – it’s almost a law in our family to purchase cheese straws! The Pup and I then drove about a mile from Leyburn to Craken House Caravan Site, a small, family run, adult only place which we stumbled across a few years ago. Since then we’ve made sporadic visits, but it’s great for a quick getaway.

https://www.crakenhousecaravansite.co.uk/

We rocked up and were met by Richard the guy who owns it. He’s very gregarious and friendly and greeted me like an old mate. He put us in a fabulous little sunny corner with a lovely view of Wensleydale. We happily nested, happy to be in the campervan again after weeks of wet miserable weather. After a cuppa and a quick rest, we headed off for a walk after I had changed into shorts! Yes it was that lovely! It was 21st March – so we’re making the most of this glorious weather (this could be our summer). So we waddled down through fields of sheep and lambs, following a route off the Ordnance Survey app on the phone. Just a quick circular one (see map below) – we came to the local water treatment works and followed a lane to open fields where lambs basked in the sunshine or gambolled with their friends. Crossing a little bridge across a beck which was muddy and slippery both ends. (The Pup watched indifferently as I negotiated this treacherous patch with a few minor yelps and a couple of “urghs” as my foot slithered into the goo). We then found a track leading to the little adjacent village of Harmby, peaceful and sleepy before peeling off across the fields again to our little campsite. It was beautiful – gambolling lambs, daffodils swaying in the sunshine and hawthorn budding in that glorious lime green of spring. In the distance, motorbikes could be heard as their owners opened up their throttles and sped along country lanes.

The Pup and I arrived back at base and listened to the cacophony of birdsong – I found my Merlin app which identifies birds by their singing – blackbirds, wrens, robins, chaffinches , pigeons, blue tits, chiff chaffs – it was beautiful. I made a quick lunch and while The Pup had 40 winks, I relaxed and soaked up the sun and wrote this blog. There are several long stay caravans in our field, but nobody was visiting – just another motorhome down the field with its occupants out cycling. This was ours!

With the sun starting to set and the temperatures dropping, we headed inside after a couple of wanders around the site. We had tea and then set up the bed as it darkened outside. Warm and cosy, I listened to a podcast and woke up some 2 hours later, having missed the majority of the podcast – doh! Had a cuppa and with The Pup snuggling up with me on the bed, we fell asleep.

Guess what – yes it’s raining!

We hatched a plan to end up at Malin Head tonight as it’s the most northerly point of Ireland and in between, investigate the Rosguill and Fanad headlands. We left Creeslough and meandered to Carrickart, along some very pretty countryside.

At Carrickart, we headed onto Rosguill, following the WAW signs which were also part of a designated scenic tour. We stopped at Rosann beach, a beautiful sweep of sand where The Pup met a collie and they chased each other – saves walking them. The clouds were dark and angry on the horizon and as we got back to the Van, it started to spit. We carried on- the landscape was stunning. In fact, I couldn’t keep up with the note taking, it changed so much. Just majestic coastal mountains, craggy outcrops and delightful little valleys.

We headed back to Carrickart and was going to continue down toward Milford, but the WAW signs took us east and over a bridge that connected Rosguill to Fanad which was a bit of a bonus. That saved us a considerable amount of time and mileage of going all the way down to Milford and back up again!

So we toured around Fanad, heading to the lighthouse, still being flabbergasted by the landscape. Donegal is amazing. We arrived at the lighthouse, just as the heavens opened so dashed into the little cafe and visitor centre and had lunch, which was lovely from a little eatery. We looked at the little gift shop as it was still pelting down and when there was a slight window of drizzle, we scampered back to the van.

There were puddles everywhere from the downpour along the little roads. We trundled along the little back roads, cursing as yet another car came up behind us. This was getting a bit of an annoying trend, so it seemed – we could be on normal main roads and have nobody behind us for miles but as soon as we got on the remotest backwater of a lane, a car would appear in our rear view mirror. It was uncanny. As we go fairly slowly, we don’t like holding people up, so we indicate and pull over to let them pass. It seems a new concept for the Irish driver as they have a tendency to hesitate, wondering what we’re up to, before gingerly passing us.

The scenery on these headlands are just jaw dropping and at every corner, there’s another fabulous surprise! Ballymaststocker viewpoint was no exception – half way up a craggy hill just beyond a couple of hairpins, the view was amazing – overlooking sandy bays, the distant headlands, Carrickart in the background – it was one huge amazing vista.

We headed down the lovely east coast of the headland through Rathmullan and Ramelton, two small delightful towns and onto Letterkenny, where the heavens seriously opened up – so hard that we were on double wash wipe with the windscreen wipers. It had eased off as we skirted the edge of Letterkenny – full of roundabouts, traffic lights, commuter traffic and queues. It’s always a bit of a shock to the system touching a large town or city.

We headed back up towards Buncrana, stopping along the way for fuel. As hubby was going to open the fuel cap, a staff member appeared out of the blue and took over the responsibility of filling up the van! Blimey, that hasn’t happened for many years, a petrol station attendant! It was a bit weird to just stand there and let someone fill your car up!

We went through Buncrana, picking up the WAW up to Fort Dunree, perched on its rocky promontory and built for the Napoleonic Wars. Then the long straight climb up the Mamore Gap, where the holy well of Saint Eigne is found and is one of Ireland’s “magic roads” – an optical illusion whereby a stationary car appears to roll up hill. As we were the only ones up there, we were unable to verify the theory. The view on the other side was far reaching and spectacular as we trundled back down.

We tracked down the possible campsite down a plethora of back lanes to find a long line of elderly caravans greeting us which sort of put us off and then we found out that dogs weren’t allowed. Well, that solved that problem, but created another in the fact that there seemed to be no alternatives. On the way up to Malin Head, we were frantically googling and not getting very far.

It was howling a hoolie at Malin Head, an extremely exposed piece of headland with a signal tower. There are many old stone signal stations along the Wild Atlantic Way, built between 1804 – 1806 in preparation of a possible Napoleonic invasion which never happened in the end. Each station is spaced so they can see each other and signaled by using a flag system. The one at Malin Head had been rendered which was now falling off, so it had a rather neglected, if not brutalist look about it.

https://www.irishtimes.com/news/environment/ireland-s-napoleonic-era-signal-towers-1.1253929

We fought to get out of the van with the wind and had a wander around, taking photos to prove we were there. A band of rain was coming across the bay, so we went to the little coffee trailer and ordered coffee and cake from the young girl sheltering there. There were a few brave souls braving the weather, wandering on the headland, but we retreated back to the Van to consume our most northerly Irish cup of coffee and our most northerly Irish piece of cake before heading off.

During our earlier wander we had also spotted “Eire 71” on a prominent piece of grassland, created from large white washed stones. We had seen two or three on our travels and we had learnt that they were a WWII navigational tool, mainly to let aircraft know that they were approaching neutral Eire and whereabouts they were. Apparently there’s not many about, but this one look in good condition.

https://coastmonkey.ie/eire-signs/

With the weather closing in, we had no option than to go to the nearby Farren’s Bar for a most northerly Irish pint of Guinness in the most northerly Irish pub as we had celebrated this moment in the south and west. It was a convivial place to scratch our heads for our campsite conundrum. As we were leaving, one of the pub guys started up a conversation while scratching The Pup’s ears and suggested we should go to Kinnagoe Bay, down the coast and go off grid. So we did. We dropped down a steep road onto a tarmacked parking area which overlooked the most amazing bay, surrounded by tall grassy cliffs and a sweep of sand. It was perfect. There was one other car, the owner letting his dog have a run on the beach and so Hubby and The Pup went to join them. Another car arrived, but after a few photos, they disappeared again.

Then we were all alone, just us and the gannets, diving into the sea for their tea, in one of the loveliest spots you could find. We were totally self sufficient, The Pup could be off lead and it was just perfect ending for our last night on the Wild Atlantic Way. We fell asleep with the gentle sounds of waves crashing on the beach and felt very happy.

I liked this campsite – you got a private bathroom. A whole room with toilet, basin and shower together and it’s all yours while you use it! No separate shower cubicle, no trying to wash and keep your dignity when people keep walking in. No abandoning of belongings while you nip to the loo. All contained in one space. Call me a prude, but I rejoice when I find this kind of arrangement. Hubby just thinks I’m weird.

It’s broken sunshine today, but there’s dark rainclouds appearing over the hill – big, black and angry and one of them spilled its wrath upon us making us dive for cover and shut the van doors until it passed. It just hammered down for about ten minutes and then the sun came out again. The angry cloud was last seen sitting and disgorging its contents on a local mountain,

We waddled to the Ti Linn cafe and gift shop next door for breakfast – Ireland doesn’t seem to do a veggie full breakfast, so I settled with avocado on toast which was very nice. We were the only ones in – The Pup stayed in the van for a lie in and afterwards we had a quick wander around the gift shop, baulking at the prices of the jumpers.

Our first point of call today was Malin Beg, the furthest west you can go in Donegal. We arrived at a large parking area which overlooked a fabulous beach, far below. It can be reached by negotiating a several flights of steps and it’s well worth the effort. Once again, beautiful soft sand leading to a clear sea with gentle waves surrounded by tall cliffs. It was just magical especially in the sun. We stayed for quite a while, with The Pup wragging seaweed (we forgot her ball) and having a whale of a time, before steadily ascending the stone steps. That’s worked off breakfast.

We jumped into the van and headed vaguely north, past tall majestic cliffs on the coast – before veering in slightly inland, first to the little village of Glencolumbkille nestled in the rolling coastal hills before snaking across to Glengesh. The landscape was changing again as we headed across the countryside – upland moorland, mountains, peatlands, crags. Donegal was the most dramatic of all the counties we had visited on our trip. Constantly changing and so awe inspiring. The road took us up high, across an empty landscape until we summited and the valley opened up before us. Glengesh is a fantastic viewpoint looking down the valley towards Ardara. We pulled into the little parking area and found, to our delight, one of those little coffee huts (they seem to be quite popular at these viewpoints). Perfect timing – coffee and cake while soaking in this splendid view.

The road snaked its way down towards Ardara, a pleasant little town and we followed the Wild Atlantic Way up towards Maas, taking a slight detour down towards Naran and Portnoo. We just had a quick nose and turned around – we like our small empty beach coves too much.

We headed to Dunglow, realising that we didn’t have much of an itinerary today and seemed to just be driving for the sake of it. I wanted to check out the sea stack at Crohy Head, so drove up to Dunglow as we missed the first turning and followed a narrow lane to Maghery, small community towards the end of the headland and onto Crohy Head where the road hugged the coastline. We were expecting a little parking area as it was mentioned in one of the guide books, but there was nothing, not even any signage. We peered down towards the sea, hoping to catch a glimpse, but to no avail. We retraced our steps, thinking we would see it on the way back, but again hidden from view. So we stopped and Google mapped it – thank goodness for technology as it highlighted the stack and we zoomed in on its precise location. Finally, after passing a fantastic Grand Designs house buried into the earth like a Hobbit dwelling about four times (we must of started looking suspicious) we stopped in a little lay-by/passing place behind a car who’s owner was having a nap. Grabbing The Pup for a bit of fresh air, I finally saw the sea stack! But how did anyone to get down to see it better? Eventually we spotted a path line in the grass in a field, which lead down to the edge of the cliff, but there was no signs to say whether you could go down or not. It was quite steep too. I ummed and aared before deciding not to go – it’s suppose to be the most photographed stack, but I wouldn’t get a great shot where I was. So we headed back to the car and decided to concentrate on finding somewhere to stay.

Ever since we arrived in Ireland, we have spotted county flags flying everywhere, mainly in private gardens. All the Irish counties have their own county flag – a bit like Cornwall or Northumbria and Donegal was no exception. Each county has its own colour and the flags can be chequered or have the county emblem emblazoned on them. It’s quite a splendid sight.

Dunglow had a site in the centre of town, which we noted, but a quick Google revealed a place called Sleepy Hollows campsite near Crolly about 12km from Dunglow. It also had Leo’s Tavern just down the road, famous for being known as the home of music artists Clannad, Enya and Moya Brennan, and most nights had live music. This sounded perfect and we found both easily. However, Sleepy Hollows was full – the first time we had failed to secure a pitch! That was rather disappointing to say the least. The lovely owner told us we could park overnight in Leo’s car park if we asked nicely otherwise the nearest campsite he knew of was a good 45 minutes away. The day was going slightly pear shaped at this point, so we drove back down the road slowly, contemplating our next move when we came across some little camping pods. An idea struck us – why not stay in one of those tonight? Then we could go to Leo’s after all! So we found the phone number and gave them a call. Yes they had space – yippee, but dogs weren’t allowed, but we could try Leo’s car park…….

Leo’s car park was okay, but it was a pub car park at the end of the day. We were in a slight pickle now, but hubby found another possibility in a place called Creeslough, in north Donegal. So we plumbed in the town and followed the satnav to Gweedore, turning east. We were abandoning the Wild Atlantic Way, lopping off the northwest bit of Donegal as we followed the R251 which was a bit annoying, but oh my goodness, what a fabulous route! It took us into the Derry Veagh Mountains, passing an impressive quartzite eminence called An Earagail (Errigal mountain) all 752m of it as well as other summits. It was absolutely stunning and actually a pleasant change of scenery to the coastal routes – sometimes it’s great to go off piste – you never know what you will come across! The satnav took us down some little back country roads before burping us out in the town of Creeslough and we quickly found the Wild Atlantic Campsite – an unusual place in its set up, as it seemed rather open and public – more of a community area than a campsite. There was wine bar/cafe, launderette and pizza place by the entrance, then the reception surrounded by a play and games area which the local children used, a small amusement arcade which seemed open to anybody, various holiday accommodation in the shape of villas and pods and then motorhome pitches. We were getting too tired to travel further and it looked fine, just a bit different to all the other sites we had stayed at. There were quite a few other campers already set up, so we booked in and was allocated a pitch over looking a large grassy area. Anyway it had a pizza shop which solved our dilemma with what to have for tea (again we had been useless at getting in supplies – at one point, tea would of been a hodge podge of what we could find in the fridge).

We wandered up later to get the pizzas and was going to check out the pods and villas, all lined up in a semi circle, while we waited for the pizza to cook. They looked quite attractive, but were sat right next door to each other and as they were quite modern with floor to ceiling glass windows, there seemed a lack of privacy. There was no hedges or fencing separating them – they would look fabulous in a Centreparc type setting. This whole site looked pretty new, so perhaps things were ongoing. We were going to press our noses up against the empty ones to have a look inside, but a stern notice about “No Dogs in this area” made us change tact and we sat on the verandah of the cafe, sunning ourselves which was very pleasant.

We waddled back with our pizza boxes and sat in the van to eat them. The wind was quite cool and then relaxed, planning what we would do with the last two days of our Irish adventure. The end was rushing up too soon, but it seemed weeks ago when we first set foot on this wonderful island. We decided to stay at Malin Head, the most northerly point of Ireland and toast it with a pint like we had done with the south and west and on Friday, follow the WAW to its end in Londonderry and a quick dash to Belfast ready for the ferry on Saturday morning.