We’re going to have a quiet day today. No driving, maybe a walk, just some downtime.
It’s a glorious morning, so we sat outside The Van after yet another breakfast of croissants and pain du chocolats (oops) washed down with a cuppa, soaking up the warm sunshine. Somehow we frittered the morning away without really doing anything which actually was very nice. We decided, about lunchtime, to go for a walk on the beach, some 20 minutes walk away as The Pup deserved a beach after being so cruelly denied yesterday. She’s a fantastic travelling companion, sleeping on her mat when we’re driving and no hassle. She was overdue a big reward.
St Simeon church
So we set off down the road that runs down the side of our campsite and followed it until we came to a gravel car park. We passed the roofless St Simeon Church sat forlornly in a field and wondered if it was a casualty of the Landings (the information board didn’t say) We walked through the car park and forked left down a gravelly track through woodland and dappled sunshine. We popped out between two little houses which overlooked the English Channel and onto a little clifftop – we spent a couple of minutes looking for a suitable path that led us onto the beach and then we unleashed The Pup.
One of the great things about owning a dog is being part of their sheer delight on running free on a big wide open beach with the sea crashing in. She had the biggest grin on her face as she gambolled around so happily. This was Omaha Beach, again one of the 1944 D-Day beaches along this coastline. It was absolutely stunning – soft golden sand as far as the eye could see – and with the sun shining, it looked fabulous.
We took our shoes and socks off and followed The Pup into the shallow surf and sauntered along. We walked past a large sports complex with sand yachts sitting on the sand and spotting a small village in the distance, decided to walk there hoping there would be a cafe for a late lunch. It seemed to take ages to get there, but finally we walked up the slipway and found ourselves on the busy seafront of Saint Laurent sur Mer, dominated by a large stone monument (Monument Signal d’Omaha Beach) and a steel sculpture (Les Braves) embedded in the sand, dedicated to the fallen D-Day soldiers. Set back were about four or five large coaches disgorging many tourists who made an immediate beeline to these two structures. We just wanted something to eat and headed to The D-Day House restaurant where we sat outside under a parasol and tortured the waiting staff with our French.
Les Braves
The Pup sunk two bowls of water before collapsing on the sun drenched grass to recharge while we did our own sinking of a pint and two rather large burgers and fries. Suitably replenished, we joined the hordes of coach tourists to admire the two sculptures and heard a lot of American accents – Omaha was the responsibility of the Americans as part of the D-Day Landings. We didn’t linger long as Saint Laurent is just a quiet village by the sea and we had a long walk back – we had walked over 3.5km to get here. So we wandered back down onto the beach trying to imagine being a soldier landing here on this open expanse of sand ,where now people wandered leisurely, enjoying the late afternoon sun. We had a lot to thank them for.
The Pup was running out of steam, walking rather running madly, ignoring the seabirds. We found our little gap to get us back up to our little track and walked steadily back. The Pup sunk another two bowls of water and scoffed her dinner, before retiring on our bed in the back of the Van. We enjoyed the early evening sun until it started getting chilly and we headed indoors for a light tea. We had walked over 7.5kms, The Pup probably double that including being chased by a greyhound – no wonder she was sound asleep. We wouldn’t be far behind.
Tomorrow, we have a few places to check out around here, so back in the Van. It looks like another hot day too.
Woke up a bit later than usual and was a tad bit laid back this morning. We had a bit of a jump over towards Bayeux today.
I went to have a shower and was a bit alarmed to find the showers and toilets were both unisex. Camping washrooms aren’t my favourite places at the best of times, so I recoiled slightly. It wasn’t busy so I had the room to myself which was a relief – the shower did finally warm up, though its jet was so strong, it flooded the cubicle and my Crocs!
Our first job of the day was to head back to a nearby caravan showroom before we continued our trip – we are in need of a folding step to get into bed easier, (it’s a big high up and not easy to launch into) a stiff brush to remove The Pup’s ginger fur off the carpet and a hose to fill our water tank. All these new niggly issues thrown up with a new camper, though you will be pleased to hear that we’ve finally stopped re-arranging and moving things, happy where everything is though we still have occasional moments of “where is the ……….” or “what box is the ………” followed by a bit of rummaging.
Anyway, the caravan place was shut on Mondays, so with a Gaelic shrug of the shoulders, we retraced our steps back towards the campsite so that satnav would pick the original plumbed in route and we wouldn’t fall foul of Rouen’s ZFE emissions zone. We finally decided not to go into the city centre -whatever plan we thought of was either too much hassle or just impossible with a large van, the ZFE and a pooch in the equation. (I won’t bore you with the finer details). So we headed west towards Bayeux, avoiding the motorways and taking the more scenic route.
We hadn’t gone far when we came across the banks of the River Seine with houses backing onto chalky cliffs. It was all very pretty with an early morning mist lingering. It was a typical September morning – hazy sunshine and the trees just starting to turn. We passed through Duclair village with the ferry chugging across the Seine connecting the village to the south bank – it was well used with cars, HGV’s and a tractor tugging a trailer piled high with potatoes coming off the ferry as we sat at the traffic lights watching!
We crossed the fabulous Bridge of Botonne a little further along, a magnificent structure that reminded us of the Dartford Crossing Bridge, but surrounded by autumnal fields and woods rather heavy industry. The rest of journey was through pretty countryside, woodlands and deep valleys, pulling out onto high plateaus of industrial sized fields. There were quite a few half timbered houses, some even thatched. A few had fallen into disrepair which was a shame – they were very pretty.
We went through a couple of busy towns that we were tempted to stop at, but wimped out of them both – the traffic was heavy and trying to find a car park that would accommodate our Beastie (we still a little nervous of getting ourselves stuck somewhere or hitting something). The second town was quite attractive and had a long busy high street which was very tempting to have a stroll along, but with every motorist on a mission to snaffle the merest hint of a gap on the roadside, caused our slow cruise through the town to be quite exciting and slightly nerve racking. Cars seemed to be coming at all angles, pulling out, reversing in sharply, stopping abruptly, parked at crazy angles and that wasn’t taking into account, the pedestrians and busy shoppers nipping in, out and between all of this mayhem. Just negotiating this single strip of tarmac gave us the jitters (and a headache) so we abandoned and continued back out into the safety of the countryside.
We hit the outskirts of Caen and seemed to have an extended tour of its industrial heartlands before we were suddenly burped out into countryside. Just up the road we came across the Pegasus Bridge, which the Allied Forces captured in June 1944. As we approached the bridge, we spotted a sign for parking on the right and quickly dived down it, as we fancied a wander. We quickly realised that they seemed to be rebuilding the museum there, with fenced off areas and had shut everything down for the time being. We did a U turn and went to look for a parking spot, but it was quite busy and the car parks that we saw were quite small. We managed to pull over into a roadside parking space (30 mins only) to figure out what to do, suddenly realising that we had conveniently parked just outside a sandwich shop. We suddenly realised we needed sustenance more than anything else at this point and quickly dashed inside.
Our next mission was to find a place to eat the said goodies. We googled nearby Aires and picnic parks, but there didn’t seem to have parking so we headed out of town and onto a main road hoping to find a nice lay-by or picnic area. Instead we ended up in a grotty lay by on a dual carriageway as we were so hungry and gasping for a drink. It would do – we just needed to eat. We had a quick cuppa and ate our baguette sandwich and half a cake before carrying on. The weather was lovely – sunny and the Van claiming it was a pleasant 22 degrees outside. We dropped down into the little town of Arromanches where its beaches were part of the D-Day invasion. We drove around town looking for car parking, dismayed by height barriers until we spotted the roofs of many motorhomes and realised that the sign that we initially dismissed as we arrived – parking buses – meant us van owners. (Another lesson learnt). We found it easily, paid for a ticket and headed into town. The shops catered for the tourists wandering around, but we headed to the broad sandy beach, named Gold in 1944, and admired the beautiful coastline. Large concrete barriers sat in the sea, the legacy of the invasion and there was a museum on a wide courtyard with information boards placed on the promenade. It was all very lovely and well thought out. The Pup was itching to get on the beach, but there were signs saying no dogs – though several people had defied this signage, walking on the beach with their furry friend. We double checked with the museum people who confirmed “No Dogs”, so we wandered along the seafront instead with a very disappointed hound. With the absence of the usual seaside tat – amusement arcades, tacky gift shops and fast food vendors, Arromanches had an air of quiet respectability and serenity which was only right in such a place.
We spent a long time just standing at various points trying to imagine the scenario way back in 1944, landing on those beaches under heavy fire and see comrades fall. It was quite incredible that the Allies achieved the success that they did.
We jumped back into the Van and headed off to Longues sur Mer next, just up the road and to the Batterie de Longues. We wheedled our way down a narrow residential road and came across a large car park overlooking the English Channel. A short walk took us a row of German artillery batteries complete with their guns pointing out to sea. Set well back from the edge of the cliffs and partially submerged, it was an eerie reminder of World War II warfare. These things could fire shells 17 kms out to sea. You could actually go inside the battery and walk around the gun and the rear of the concrete structure – again trying to imagine what life was like in such places.
It was now getting late and we decided to call it a day. We waddled back and popped into the little sunken Brutalist building acting as the tourist information. We picked up some leaflets and a book about D-Day to learn the more intricate details of the mission. We jumped into the Van and headed to our next campsite, L’Hypo camping at Aure sur Mer, some 10km up the coast. We checked in and was able to chose our pitch – so we did a little tour and chose No.39. We then did a little bit of fluffing around trying to park in it, much to the amusement of the Danish couple next door. We set up shop and settled down to a pasta tea and a glass of good French wine. This will be our base for the next three nights – a chance to investigate the area more and to savour a little bit of downtime. We’ve stuffed a lot in in these last few days – we just can’t help ourselves sometimes…………
We’re having some good night’s sleep despite sharing the bed with a 25kg Labrador who thinks the bed is her own and is like a sack of potatoes. Will not budge even when you physically relocate her! Out for the count!
We got up slowly and did a few Campervan ablutions – the novelty of emptying grey water and sorting out the loo, all new to us after our recent upgrade! We are quite a team when packing away, having our own little duties to carry out. Skipping breakfast we headed out onto the road again, this time towards the city of Rouen.
We were soon out on open countryside and it seemed to be the Potato Central – lots of little smallholdings selling off their spuds on the roadside. With no need to stock up with tubers, we carried on, travelling through more wooded countryside and smaller fields – it was still crops with the odd pasture with cows chewing the cud. We’ve seen quite a few birds of prey too which is always amazing. The further we travelled west, we saw more Tudor/half timbered style cottages in the villages we went through which was interesting. The satnav had taken us on a seemingly magical mystery tour, determined to visit every industrial looking town with low business parks and car showrooms on the outskirts! The countryside was more rolling now and we dropped in and out of wooded valleys – it was certainly varied.
Hubby had done some research last night and discovered a little village and restaurant to head towards for Sunday Lunch, so we aimed for Gerberoy. We came off the main road and followed a little country lane – initially we stopped at a gorgeous little hamlet of half timbered houses, before we realised we had to drive a little further. Every single house in Gerberoy was also half timbered and was a totally chocolate box village. It was stunning. We found a large and generous car park on the edge of the village and began to investigate the little community, wandering down its little lanes. We were quite hungry by now and found our restaurant that we had emailed last night. We had sent quite a quirky little message to them and they replied, saying how much they were looking forward to meeting The Pup. They greeted us like old friends and had prepared a table in the little garden opposite the restaurant, surrounded by flowers. We were the only ones in the garden, but it was lovely. They were excellent hosts and looked after us well. The sky was thinking about raining and there was dampness in the air. Luckily it held off while we ate and then a little drizzle appeared as we paid our bill. We wandered up to the church and back down into the village before finding a tree lined avenue on the edge of the village and waddled back to the Van. What a beautiful little place.
Very happy, we joined the main road again and headed towards Rouen and our campsite for the night, some 15km north west of the city. We discovered last night that Rouen has a Low Emission Scheme which you need a sticker to enter or face a fine if you take a vehicle within the zone, which we didn’t have. Though there was a bus not far from the campsite, French buses don’t allow dogs of more than 10kg onboard. If we had a chihuahua we would be okay as long as we stuffed it in a handbag or other suitable receptacle. We spent the evening with ChatGPT, trying to figure a way in – driving to the nearest rail station brought its own set of questions: was there ample parking for a campervan, was there height restrictions? Park and Ride? We tried everything. The Pup would need to be muzzled on the train and all this for about 4 hours in Rouen. We heard it was a beautiful city with stunning architecture, but was it worth all the hassle?
Camping Les Nenuphars, Roumare, nr Rouen.
To avoid the Low Emissions (or ZFE) we took a convoluted route to our campsite – we had to override the Satnav as she would have happily skimmed northern Rouen and got us a fine. We found our campsite not far from the lovely looking town of Montville, and checked in. Again we had a little pitch enclosed on three sides by hedges and tucked under trees. There were three other Brit campers here which was nice to see – we got chatting to our next door neighbours. We had a nibbly tea washed down with some wine and watched the sun go down. We’re still making minor adjustments to our living quarters and making little improvements, making our campervan lives easier. Tomorrow we will make a decision on Rouen, but ultimately we heading to the town of Bayeux. Yes and we know the Tapestry is currently in London 🙈.
Another good night’s sleep, though I awoke with The Pup laying across my legs, looking out of the back window. It was so cute, but my legs had gone numb.
We had pre-ordered pain au raisins and some fresh bread yesterday for breakfast (going to have to nip this habit in the bud or we’ll become a pair of blimps) so we went and picked them up. I went for a shower and endured (in my opinion) a tepid pouring of water with one of those wretched automatic buttons you need to press constantly. We weren’t the earliest people today to be honest, so presume all the other lady campers had beaten me to it and pinched all the hot water. Anyway, it did the job and I sauntered back to The Van.
Today, we were heading south to the little town of Neuilly St Front where my grandfather’s brother is buried. He fought in the early days of World War One and died of his wounds in September 1914 aged just 26. He left a pregnant wife back home in England. He is buried in the town’s communal cemetery together with two other British servicemen – we think that he died before he could be evacuated and possibly buried on a temporary basis, but ultimately never moved.
We left our campsite and headed out – we ended up on a toll road which saw me leaning out of the passenger window to retrieve a ticket at one toll booth and lean out again when we exited the motorway, hoping I wouldn’t drop said ticket or my debit card. We are also learning how close we can get with the new van, so these situations are a touch tense. Anyway, it worked and with a sigh of relief we stayed on A roads for the rest of the journey.
The countryside was a bit like yesterday. We were now in the Aisne Departmente, another arena of World War One. Big harvested wheat fields across a flat and featureless landscape apart from distance woodlands. There were no hedgerows or stone walls. Wind turbines were abundant here and for good reason – there was nothing to stop the wind! Then suddenly we would drop into a valley where pretty villages and towns nestled, surrounded by woods before heaving back up onto the sprawling plateaus of fields. Here, you could clearly imagine the trench warfare of World War One and how both sides spent months shelling each other to gain a few feet of territory or to secure a piece of woodland. Total madness.
After nearly two hours, we dropped into Neuilly St Front passing another military cemetery on the outskirts. We found the cemetery easily and parked up nearby. It was the town’s cemetery, still being used and full of headstones of various sizes and grandeur. I had a vague idea of where Franklin was, down the far end on the left, but as I got nearer to the bottom, I was beginning to lose faith. There was a young man tending a grave and asked if he spoke English. “Non” was the resounding reply and my heart sank. How do I ask about Franklin. Somehow in very broken French, I mentioned “trois Anglais” “premiere guerre” and an “ici?” – bless him, he launched into conversation, all in French, leading me to the three headstones, less than 20 foot away. I could of kissed him.
I spent many minutes, like yesterday, staring at Franklin’s headstone and wondering about his last few days and what was his wartime experiences were like. I wondered who else visited his graveside – I was pleased that all three were tidy and looked after. I felt a lump in my throat again as I thought about him and Ernest losing their young lives like they did. And for what?
I patted his headstone and left the little cemetery, full of local French people and three Englishmen and headed back to the Van. Hubby went to have a look at the gravestone and then we had a cup of tea. Neuilly St Front was very quiet, hardly anybody around and it didn’t seem to have shops, or at least opened ones. So we decided to head to Soissons where we had booked a campsite, some 20km north.
We came into the outskirts of Soissons, needing a supermarket to stock up on some food. We pulled into one large car park thinking it was a supermarket, but it turned out to be a large bed showroom, but next door was a Lidl. We managed to slip across into their car park, but it was a bit shabby and there seemed to be homeless people hanging around. We found it a bit unsettling, so abandoned that plan and continued onto our campsite – we passed by the town centre which looked lovely, full of outdoor seating and lots of people. As we approached our campsite, we realised there was another Lidl just up the road, so we took a quick diversion and did a quick shop. We retraced our steps back to the campsite, asking ourselves why we always shopped in Lidl while abroad, but never at home (we tend to shop locally). Maybe it was knowing what we were dealing with a well known and familiar brand name and it was quick and convenient. We promised ourselves to try and shop more locally for the rest of the trip.
We found our campsite easily, the Camping Municipale Soissons and set up home. It was quite warm, so we had some lunch outside and chilled for the afternoon.
After feeding The Pup, we walked into town along the River Aisne under the shade of trees. It was very pleasant with parkland across the street with people playing tennis. We came up to a bridge and looking right, there was the street we saw, full of street tables, eateries and a woman singing under a gazebo. We decided to have a wander around town, up to the magnificent cathedral and through the shopping area. All the shops were shut, so we dived down a side street and came to the front of the cathedral where an Indian wedding was just coming out. Guests in all their refinery and ladies in their colourful saris, taking photos of each other. They soon jumped into their cars and headed to carry on with their celebrations. We wandered up to the huge double doors of the cathedral and peered inside, the warden telling us broken English that they do tours tomorrow, but now it was shut.
There was another tall spire of a church in the distance, surrounded by scaffolding and we headed towards that, but after a while of wandering quiet residential streets, we dropped that idea and headed back towards the centre.
We found the busy eating area and found a place offering wine and tapas. We sat outside in the warm evening and enjoyed our meal, people watching and listening to the singer.
Supping the last of our wine and with darkness fallen, we wandered back towards the Van and got ready for bed. Tomorrow we were heading to Rouen and the west coast of France.
We all slept well in the new campervan, despite The Pup pinching the duvet.
We awoke to a chilly September morning, but the sun was starting to shine. After tea in bed, we waddled down with The Pup to the village Patisserie/Boulangerie for croissants and a French stick which we brought back to the Van for a leisurely breakfast. Out in the sun, it was quite warm, but everything dripped with dew.
We started to pack everything away, ready for our day. Doing my family history over the years, I discovered that two of my grandparent’s brothers lost their lives during World War One and knew where they were buried. Today, I was going to visit my grand uncle Ernest’s grave in Delville Wood Cemetery in the Somme.
We had a choice of zipping down there by motorway in an hour and a half or taking the more scenic route. We decided to drive on the country roads and enjoyed some fabulous scenery. It was more undulating countryside, with vast fields and far ranging views with pretty little villages. It then became more rolling with little communities huddled in the valleys – their red pantiles and red brick walls bright against the green fields and woodlands.
As we approached the Somme Department, the countryside returned to the vast fields and big skies before we arrived at the little village of Longueval and parked at the Delville Wood Cemetery. On one side of the road is the South African National Memorial to the fallen South Africans – a huge commemorative memorial housing the museum and on the opposite side, the Delville Wood Cemetery, with lines of regimented headstones of mainly British soldiers. We soon found Ernest’s headstone and spent a long time there, thinking about him, his family, the futility of war and what this area looked like 110 years ago. It must of been horrific. We wandered back, saddened to see headstones for unknown soldiers and wondered how many still laid out in the fields, lost forever.
The actual Delville Wood that surrounds the South African Memorial was devastated as the Germans fought hard to hold onto this strategic stronghold, the trees hiding their position. The tall trees now were no more than a hundred years old, as the whole wood was replanted. We had a quick walk through these woods, comtemplating the life of a soldier during these barbaric times. It sent shivers down our spines.
Delville Wood in 1916
Delville Wood today
We walked back and decided to visit the bar/cafe we had seen on the way in for lunch. Sadly, our timing was bad – they had just shut. So we wandered back to The Van and made ourselves a brew and finished off the breakfast baguette while we researched more about the war in this area. We discovered that Ernest’s regiment, the Kings Royal Rifle Corps actually attacked a nearby wood, called High Wood which again the Germans occupied, so we drove over there to find out more. We couldn’t enter the wood as it was privately owned, but stood outside and see its value to any army that seized it. It commanded long distance views across vast open fields with little way of cover for almost 360 degrees so the Germans could see any advancing regiment quite easily. The Allies were sitting ducks really which resulted in high casualty numbers. But the powers above continued to send in troops and in the September of 1916, the Germans finally surrendered the woodland. It was here, quite likely, where Ernest was killed in action in July 1916 aged 21.
The day had left us deep in thought, emotional and thinking how futile wars were and yet a hundred years on, the human race is still fighting each other. We headed off, passing numerous little brick walled cemeteries filled with headstones, neatly in rows and standing to attention, often in the middle of fields. It made you realise how many men died during the Battle of the Somme and how many just in this area alone. Just awful.
Our campsite wasn’t too far away in the small village of Feuilleres. Luckily we had pre-booked before we had left the UK and thank goodness we had as the place was full. We checked in and found our pitch – a private corner surrounded by hedges, which didn’t make it easy to get The Van in. After a lot of backwards and forwards, we parked it sideways and put the kettle on, sunning ourselves. After our cuppa, we checked out the facilities and went for a walk along the adjacent canal to stretch our legs including The Pup’s. It was a very pleasant sunny evening. On the way back, we called in on the campsite’s bar and ordered a couple of beers and a bag of crisps – the beer went straight to our heads, so we headed back to The Van and raided our limited larder and mustered up a sandwich. (We had basically emptied our rundown fridge and larder from home when we left yesterday with a vague plan to stock up with a supermarket visit…………..it hasn’t happened yet). It worked, but a supermarket is defintely on the agenda for tomorrow.
The night closed in as we began to research Franklin, another grand uncle lost in WW1 which we plan to visit tomorrow.
We’re off again! This time heading south through France and down towards Spain with no real plan or timeline. Just see how far we get before we have to turn around.
We were rudely awoken by our alarm, diligently set for 4am, for a 5am departure. It was tipping it down with rain as we bundled the last of our bits in our Van, got The Pup settled and headed down the lane in the pitch darkness. A bit of a shock not having a glowing dawn breaking over the hills, but it is September. We jumped onto the M6 and headed south, the motorway heavy with traffic even at this hour of the morning. The rain was incessant – easing off, then a deluge – not easy in the dark. Lorries threw up spray and it was hard work. Dawn finally broke and with the rain petering out, we pulled into Norton Canes services for a Costa breakfast and a welcomed cup of coffee.
Suitably refreshed, we hit the road again. The satnav wanted to take us around the M25 anti-clockwise to avoid a perceived 45 minute delay. Checking other apps, we defied her wisdom and headed to the Dartford Crossing (after all I had already paid the £3.50 toll!) and had a pleasant and uninterrupted journey to the Bridge. We picked up the M20 and before we knew it, we were at Le Shuttle at Ashford and the sun had come out. Fabulous.
We had to self check in which involved me hanging out of the passenger window and pressing buttons which seemed quite obstinate. It wasn’t easy, but it finally worked. The couple before us, almost ended up in divorce, as they spent ages trying to find booking references on their phone and then trying to get the machine to recognise them – they were so long that a driver behind us got out to find out what was causing the hold-up. But, finally, they had success, the traffic light went green and the barrier let them through!
We had to go to Pet Reception first to get The Pup authorised which went smoothly. A couple appeared with four dogs in tow and asked them if they had taken out a small mortgage to take them abroad. There is no Pet Passport per se – just a 9 page cluster of paper which costs well over £100 and is one use only. Yep, every time you go abroad, you have to visit your vet to fill out the Animal Health Certificate and each time it costs over £100. It’s probably cheaper than kennels, but still eye watering.
We feasted on a Burger King (and wished we hadn’t) and hung around. Our 3.15 train was pushed back to 3.46 (some technical hitch earlier – last time, they had lost trains………don’t ask). We crossed our fingers and hoped that we wouldn’t be seriously delayed after our slot came up with “more information in 23 minutes” on the information board, but we got called to go to Border Control which was glacial (passport control for both British and French) and finally we headed down the ramp and boarded Le Shuttle! We’ve just upgraded to a bigger campervan and are a touch precious about it at the moment – the train crew get the vehicles really up close and personal (we must almost kiss bumpers) which is quite disconcerting. We just hoped the guy in front is good on hill starts and doesn’t roll back………..
We took the chance to get a quick 40 winks in as the train gently rocked us through the Channel Tunnel and feeling a bit more refreshed, we hit the French roads to the village of Gandspette for our first campsite. We had spent our final night there on our Polish trip and decided to return as it was only 40 minutes from Calais and is a very nice campsite. Set in woodland with a small chateau, it has a swimming pool, tennis courts and a little bar/restaurant with chickens just sauntering around. Really sweet. We checked in and found our pitch, spending many minutes trying to get the Van onto blocks to get it level. The blocks kept sliding as we reversed onto them so we gave up and headed off for a well earned and celebratory pint. Only later, did our addled brains landed on the idea of actually driving onto them…….doh.
We enjoyed our beer and ordered some food. It definitely isn’t Michelin starred and mainly leans towards to carnivores, but being a veggie I managed to get an aubergine crumble and frites ordered. It was adequate and filled a hole. The Pup munched on the Bonio biscuit the reception guy gave her.
We wandered back to The Van as the night drew in and settled in – think we will be spending a week wondering where we have put stuff and possibly be doing a spot of re-arranging as we figure out our new campervan. Overall it all went rather smoothly today and it’s nice to be back on the road. We will sleep well tonight once we’ve shoved The Pup off our bed………..
Sorry, no photos today. The M6 and M25 aren’t particularly photogenic and Le Shuttle isn’t much better. I am the official co-pilot and after 7 hours plus of travelling and dealing with Le Shuttle, my main concern was getting us to the campsite safely and without incident (apart from the unexpected toll). Tomorrow will be more interesting, I promise.
It was really hot overnight – we had a window and the vents open and the van still felt like a sauna. The Pupster and I slept downstairs while hubby went on the upper platform in an attempt to feel cooler.
We were woken by the noise of a helicopter flying overhead and circling- we wondered if there had been some sort of emergency, but then it turned away and headed up the river. A little later, it returned and did the same thing. We joined a couple of people by the river bank and watched it fly low over the woodland opposite – it sported two spraying type arms on either side and we wondered if it was a fire fighting helicopter, but couldn’t see any signs of smoke. Again it lingered for less than a minute and flew off again.
We went off to have refreshing showers after our sticky night and packed up the van.
We retrieved our electric lead that had been stuck under the car tyre (they had moved their vehicle, bless them) and we were off. It was 8:30 in the morning and already 20 degrees. As we left we commented to each other that there were a lot of little dogs around and that our Pupster, being the cuddly Labrador that she is, had been one of the biggest dogs around. They don’t really make a fuss of dogs in Europe either so she didn’t get as much as adulation as she usually receives.
The helicopter reappeared and hovered over the forest again as we pulled out. He was again quite low and very noisy causing people to stop and stare. It was all very interesting and we never found out what was happening.
We were heading in the general direction of Calais, ready for Le Shuttle tomorrow. We could have used the motorways for a quicker journey, but we wanted to bag Luxembourg to add to our list of countries, so the route would be a mixture of A roads and motorways making it slower. We had to override the satnav as it wanted to circumvent Luxembourg completely and in doing so, the satnav took revenge and navigated us down some rather unusual back routes, which were quite interesting.
We came up to the last village in Germany called Dasburg and then dropped down into a little gorgeous wooded valley with a small river which constituted the border. So the forest opposite was Luxembourg, a completely new country – we still couldn’t get our heads around the fact by crossing a bridge, we had crossed an international border.
It was beautiful countryside again, woodlands, hills, fields, pretty villages. Germany was very tidy, clean and efficient looking and so was Luxembourg. We had chatted this morning about the different nationalities – the Dutch seemed to be the most willing to talk, very friendly and helpful. Europeans seem to keep themselves to themselves – some don’t make eye contact at all, some do, but don’t smile and can look quite severe and others will proffer a cursory “hallo” or a nod of the head. It’s all friendly, but they just don’t engage as much as Brits do – just a cultural thing I suppose and sometimes that can be a good thing – you can lose at least an hour with some of our fellow countrymen and know their whole life story by the time you escape!
We were really enjoying Luxembourg, when suddenly the Belgium border appeared out of nowhere and that was the end of that lovely little country! This part of Belgium looked a bit weary and well worn (there seemed to be more old buildings here) compared to the bit of Germany we had just driven through, but it was still lovely. It was 24 degrees outside (earlier it had hit 30 degrees before it got cloudy) – and even tried to rain!
All along this trip, we’ve noticed trees going brown, dying or even dead – to look at the woodlands, you would thinks it’s September rather than late July. We knew Europe had been suffering heatwaves, but feels like it hasn’t rained for weeks. It was quite a sombre thought on how climate change was now a reality to be seen by all and affecting all of us.
We arrived at the Chateau du Gamdspette campsite, a little village northwest of St. Omer. It was very nice – big pitches, a restaurant, swimming pools, tennis court, a chateau and chickens and their chicks waddling around. We’re super quick at getting the Van up and we were soon supping a glass of wine and relaxing after our long drive. There were a lot of British and Dutch people here (pah – we liked being the only Brits about). We went for a walk to stretch our legs, check the facilities and then onto the restaurant/bar to book a table for dinner and to enjoy a beer outside.
We went back to the van passing the swimming pools – the Pupster started to pull us towards the entrance and would have jumped in if she had half a chance! We had a wander around and then sat under our canopy for a while. The temperature was now perfect in the low 20’s – so much better than last night.
We got ready for dinner and went back to the restaurant – we had a nice meal though I ended up with just having a starter for my main meal as there was nothing vegetarian on the mains! It worked! We fell in conversation with a British couple who sat next door to us and we asked where they were from. Yorkshire was the reply. Oh, what part of Yorkshire? It transpired that they lived not very far away to where we live in the north west and we ended up talking for ages. It was really lovely.
We toddled back to the van as it was getting dark and decided to hit the pillows early. We needed to be at Le Shuttle for 8:30am tomorrow and we were some 40 minutes away. A case of getting up and going – so an alarm was set for 7.00am. We had contemplated about staying for a few days longer, but we needed to be back. It was weird to think that tomorrow evening we would be back home in our own bed and have our own amenities.
Sorry for no photos today. Just haven’t had the chance and there’s only a certain amount of woodland you can photo!
It was quite warm in the campervan last night, but we slept okay. We woke up at 8:30 and it was already hot. We’re staying here for another night, so no need to pack up and head to the road. A day to breathe and relax.
However we did have an important morning as we had an appointment with a local vet to give Pupster her tapeworm tablet, so she could return to the UK (all part of the regulations when taking your pet to Europe). The surgery was on the other side of the river, literally opposite our campsite, but with no way of getting to it easily. A walk involved an hour and half route into town, across the bridge and back along the other side. We could bike, but we needed a trailer for Pupster or a taxi which seemed complicated. So we did end up packing the van up to a point – the chairs and table were left to demarcate our spot and we sort of put things away……
We found the vets easily and checked in. Pupster isn’t a fan of vets and hid under a chair, much to the amusement of the other people in the waiting room. The vet came out and asked us if Pupster would swallow the tablet herself and I had to explain that you needed to crush any medication and smother it in gravy to be anywhere near successful. It would a case of pushing it down her throat and hoping she swallows it. So two nurses came along, coaxed Pupster out of her hidey hole and did the deed. Pupster, looking a bit stunned, sauntered off towards the door, while us humans all held our breath. She stood for a little while contemplating before she dropped her head, opened her mouth and quietly deposited the tablet onto the mat. The whole waiting room burst into laughter. So poor old Pupster had to go through the process again and this time, she swallowed! Everybody cheered! She retreated under the chair and wasn’t impressed when we had to slide her out again to have her microchip checked. She looked quite affronted, but she had created a new legion of fans – we all waved goodbye to everyone, who were still chuckling.
Breakfast was now high on the agenda and finding the place that the vet nurses had recommended back in town, we walked in. We asked if Pupster was allowed in and the answer was yes! Though there’s not a lot of dogs around, Pupster has been welcomed in every shop we’ve entered. It’s been quite lovely.
It was fast approaching 11am and getting late for a breakfast. The young girl explained that they were getting ready to lay out lunch items, but kindly let us have a breakfast buffet and a coffee. We were on a corner by the bridge and it was perfect for a spot of people watching. The amount of bikes is amazing – back at our campsite, practically everybody has them parked outside their unit – all sorts of people are cycling too. Just like Ypres, there’s no Lycra to be seen, just people nipping to the shops in everyday clothes. It was just lovely.
After breakfast, we had a wander – this side of the river is the old part of town with many beautiful and traditional buildings and is the hotspot for all the tourists to congregate. It was full of cafes, gift shops and notably lots of ladies clothes shops. After a good wander around (it was quite pleasant actually) we went to the icecream shop and rewarded ourselves with a flavoured icecream and a doggy ice lolly for Pupster for being so good at the vets.
We waddled back to the van, noting several huge tourist buses in the car park and that it was practically full – it was getting quite warm at this point – and decided to go and investigate the Burg Landshut high up in the hills. It’s the castle with the huge plate glass windows that houses the restaurant and overlooks the whole of Bernkastel. Apparently you can walk up to it, but in this heat, it wasn’t going to happen. We drove back through the tunnel, around a couple of hairpins and down off a side road, which we followed until we found a small parking area. It was pretty much full and with someone behind us we carried on up hoping to turn around, but instead to our surprise and delight, came across a big wide car park with plenty of space!
We walked down a steepish cobbled lane towards the castle and the vista suddenly opened up with expansive views up and down the Mosel River. It was stunning with the town hugging the river and the vineyards and woodlands stretching as far as you could see. We spent many minutes taking in the view, before having a wander around the castle itself – the restaurant was closed today and seemed that people lived on site permanently as there were children’s trikes tucked into the corner of the courtyard, but the panoramic views were fantastic.
We retraced our steps back to the van, and headed back into town. A quick shop in Aldi for a few provisions and a bottle of wine and we drove back to the campsite. It was intensely hot – we put up our awning for some shade and filled a washing up bowl so the Pupster could dip her feet in and have a bit of a splash to cool down. Then we just chilled, shielded from the 34 degree heat, welcoming any breeze that came along, keeping an eye on Pupster so she didn’t overheat. By the time we went to bed, it was still very warm and sticky – it was tempting to sleep with the van doors open. In the end we shut ourselves in and hoped we could sleep.
Tomorrow up and out as we have to be in Calais for our final European night before getting Le Shuttle back to England early Friday. Luckily on a little stroll around the campsite in the early evening, we spotted that one of the campers had accidentally parked their car wheel on our electric lead (to reach our designated electric point, our lead had to trail through two pitches). They were very good and said they would move the car and release our lead. Could have been a bit of a disaster in the morning if we couldn’t retrieve it! Good spot!
Another good night’s sleep and had a bit of a sleep in. Hubby and the Pupster had already been for a walk up to the village and back before I had even started to move.
We had ordered croissants and rolls when we checked in yesterday and went to collect them for breakfast this morning and ate them together with a cuppa, sitting outside in the sunshine. This was glorious. Pupster had a paddle in the river and had celebratory zoomies afterwards.
The road was a bit busier with more lorries passing, but it was okay. We chilled and finally packed up and started to head west. This beautiful valley seemed endless, carrying on for miles, still thickly wooded and the odd rocky outcrop peeking out of the trees. It was stunning and we realised why it was called Franconian Switzerland – it resembled an Alpine valley. There was a little bit of it noticeable tourism – a few hoardings advertising canoeing and kayaking by the towns, but nothing like Wisla in Poland. Just miles of gorgeous scenery.
The valley finally petered out and we went cross country on single carriageways until we picked up the autobahn, the quickest way to get to Bernkastel-kues today – our next stop. We thought the autobahn would be quite boring, but the countryside was fabulous – woodlands and forests as far as the eye could see with village roofs poking through the greenery and small fields with plenty of hills and rolling countryside. It changed slightly to more agricultural and then we started to skirt round towns and cities – Frankfurt and Mainz – and it was getting quite built up, which was a bit of a shock after so much countryside. Eventually we came off the autobahn and joined dual carriageways instead as we made our way to our destination.
We had a thought whilst driving – we had been on the road for nearly two weeks living very simply when it dawned on us that we had a house full of stuff back home and we weren’t really missing any of it. Sort of made us think of what we accumulate in our lives as humans and was it all necessary.
We pulled into a sort of rest area with a large square building plonked in the middle of acres of parking, as we needed the loo and a quick breather. It was 28 degrees. The loos were as utilitarian as you can possibly get – all steel and echoing – with some ventilation system on at full blast, making an incredible noise. (Felt like a scene out of one of those tense film thrillers where everybody creeps around). It was quite grim, to be honest and we didn’t linger, but feeling more comfortable we hit the road again – we didn’t have far to go.
We gradually downgraded to single carriageway roads and with some 7 km to go, turned off and plunged down a valley, with several sharp hairpin bends to negotiate to add to the fun. It was very beautiful. On the final hairpin, there were a cluster of houses and as we rounded the corner, came across the mouth of a tunnel! This road was certainly full of surprises! We entered the tunnel which burrowed its way through a hillside for some 0.5km and then burped us out by the banks of the river Mosel and in the town of Bernkastel-kues. Wow! We had arrived!
We drove along the bank of the river and into town, across a bridge spanning the river and headed to our first possible campsite (not booked again) – it was out of town a bit so we turned around to check another campsite at the other end of Bernkastel. This was on the edge of town too, but seemed closer to the centre and it appeared to be on an island. We preferred this one and checked in – we could go and choose our pitch again like last night, which we did, choosing a spot on the end of a grassy patch which gave us a clear view of the hills and the river. As usual, we went through our little ritual of going backwards, forwards and sideways, undecided on what angle to park the Van, until we finally came to an unanimous decision and turned the engine off. We then went to plug in the electric and found our very lengthy lead was a tad too short – the electricity box was quite a way past two further pitches. Oh for goodness sake! Our Dutch neighbours very kindly let us shuffle our Van even closer to theirs, our lead meandering through their sitting area and finally we were there. They were such a sweet couple.
The wine and nibbles came out almost immediately after our little trauma. We had primarily chose this spot, not only for its spaciousness, but it was under a huge tree and very shady especially with this heat. Pupster laid full length on the yellow grass, trying to keep cool while we relaxed and took in our surroundings. I took Pupster to the river’s edge, literally a few metres away from our pitch, hoping she could have a cooling dip, but the Mosel was quite green and looked like there was algae in it too. We just admired it instead.
Just after 5, we fed the Pupster, had showers and walked into town. We found a lovely restaurant up a side street with a terrace where we had a very nice dinner. The Pupster worked on her adoring public, getting fuss from a Dutch couple and then giving the little girl next door to us a quick lick. We got chatting which was lovely. Pupster is a great ice breaker.
We wandered into the town centre looking for an ATM to get some Euros. We had been wiped out by one of the Polish campsites who preferred euros to zlotys for some reason, hadn’t really needed them while we were in Poland or Czech and thought we could use our card for Germany. Yesterday someone wanted a cash payment and we realised we had lots of loose change, but nothing substantial. After we had remedied that problem, we dropped back down onto the banks of the Mosel and came across a little bar. Nabbing two seats overlooking the river, we ordered two drinks and watched the world go by. A huge river cruise ship, the Viking Hild was docked, all 443 foot of it and as we sat there, it sailed off up the river.
There was a castle up on top of the hill, the Burg Landshut, with huge floor to ceiling windows overlooking the town. Apparently it was the restaurant. You could either walk up there through the vineyards or be lazy and take the car. It looked very intriguing.
This was definitely wine country with vineyards on most of the hillsides, plunging down at extraordinary angles – how they harvested the grapes, goodness knows.
Finishing our drinks, we walked back to the campsite, it was definitely cooler with a slight breeze, but would still be warm in the camper. We sat inside lazing on the bed , with the door open, Pupster crashing out. Hubby slept upstairs while Pupster and I laid on top of the bedding. It would be 34 degrees tomorrow.
Woken by the sound of rain drumming on the Van’s roof. That’s not good, but by the time we got up, it had stopped.
The couple who turned up in a Tesla yesterday and didn’t seem to possess a tent, slept in the car’s boot overnight – quite weird to see the boot automatically opening and somebody getting out in their PJ’s.
We went to have showers in the shower block – a seemingly recent build, but with a strange set-up. You went into the “bathroom” that had two shower cubicles with clear glass doors, two washbasins and two toilets in cubicles. And it was unisex. You could lock the main door into the bathroom, but then nobody else could enter to go to the loo or to wash until you had finished, unless you were happy to leave it unlocked and risk the chance of anyone walking in, catching you in the buff in the shower. Taking no chances, we firmly locked the door to enjoy our very hot and powerful showers.
We toyed with a walk to a nearby pond so the Pupster could stretch her legs and possibly have a swim. We decided to get the van ready to go on our return, but as we were putting the last things away and thinking of putting boots on, a big black cloud appeared through the trees and the heavens opened – very heavily.
With the rain splattering the windscreen and no signs of stopping, we decided to head off to our next campsite instead, driving down to the town of Chřibská which was pretty with its traditional wooden houses, but it had pockets of ugliness – a huge factory and some town planner had allowed a horrible squat flat roofed apartment block to be constructed in the middle of it all. The town as a whole was a little bit shabby and well worn which added to its appeal – the succession of hot summers and harsh winters took its toll on the buildings – peeling render and paint chipped off, (must be a nightmare to maintain) but it had a lovely organic feel about it rather than being spritzed up for tourism. It felt frozen in time, lost in these woods and not touched by outside commercialism. I hoped it stayed that way.
We headed south west, through miles and miles of woodland and mountains with pockets of meadowland as we dropped down to the lowlands. There were quite a few conical hills dotted around and presumed that they were volcanic in origin – they were very distinctive. It was still raining. There were some biggish towns that we drove through, all quite attractive with little town squares, but most of them had some form of heavy industry on the outskirts.
It was another day of driving – we could have gone the quick route on the motorway, but wanted to see more of the Czech countryside and stuck to rural roads. Again, the mixed bag of landscapes that changed quickly from woodland to wide agricultural fields and back again. Huge churches dominated the communities and the ugly soviet style apartment blocks regularly blotted the towns and villages, sticking out like a sore thumb. We also kept coming across little village greens and village duck ponds which reminded us very much of England.
Unable to find a cafe for a coffee on route, we finally pulled up in a village car park near Zatec and had a bite to eat from Van’s rations and a cuppa. The Pupster got a quick walk to allow for any canine ablutions. We had not seen any lay-bys, parking areas or viewpoints at all throughout Poland and now in Czech, where you could stop to have a rest or a quick brew. The rain finally eased off and the sun started to poke its head out – we seemed to be on the edge of the weather front and kept dipping in and out of showers and sunshine.
A single track railway line had been meandering alongside us for quite some time, sometimes hugging the road or peeling off into the distance, but frequently coming back and crossing our path. We weren’t sure if it was the same continuous line or several lines serving the towns and villages dotted all around. Most of the time, there were warning lights and barriers but sometimes there was nothing and it was down to you to slow down and look left and right before crossing. Nothing was manned.
We pulled up at one particular crossing with the barriers down, out in the middle of the fields, when a little two carriage sprinter train appeared and stopped short of the crossing, alongside a rather non-descript rectangular windowless concrete building. The train doors opened and two young girls got off, dressed as if they were in the middle of Paris or Milan and stepped straight onto grass. This building was nothing more than a depressing bus shelter, masquerading as railway station and there wasn’t even a platform. The girls toddled off, the train pulled away and crossed the road, the barriers lifted and we were once again on our way.
We cut across the countryside and entered Germany, with no fanfare, just as we came out of a woodland and met a cluster of official looking buildings, now mothballed, which were the only reminder of the former border and a small blue sign. It was like driving from Yorkshire into Lancashire. It was a weird feeling crossing the border, a bit bittersweet – Poland and Czech Republic had been totally alien to us: completely new language, different currency and completely new countries, but we had thoroughly enjoyed ourselves experiencing these countries, negotiating our way round and making ourselves understood. It had been a fabulous and fun week visiting all these places from the coast to the mountains and everything in between. Then suddenly we were back into something more comfortable and familiar – knowing more German words than just “dog” and “thank you”, the confidence knowing that more people would happily slip into English and get you out of a linguistic hole or maybe that we were that bit more closer to home.
You could tell immediately the difference between Czech and Germany – we were now driving through tidy and more affluent looking communities, more managed countryside rather than the more natural, raw and seemingly untouched we had just left. We were gradually getting closer to our campsite and suddenly the scenery changed as we entered a high sided wooded valley with huge outcrops of rock – a little river ran at the bottom beside the road with little meadows dotted here and there. It was absolutely gorgeous and hoped our campsite would be in the middle of it. We spotted what we thought was a construction crane, but soon realised it was a viewing platform and our hearts sank a little – hope this wasn’t going to be spoilt by loads of tourist attractions and hordes of people shuffling around. A little further on, there was a restaurant seemingly built into the rock, a show cave entrance and a little train track, but there wasn’t many people walking around – it was, after all, late Monday afternoon. We held our breath as this beautiful valley carried on. We managed to overshoot our camping ground, the Campingplatz Frankirsche Schweiz and had to turn around in the little village of Tuchersfeld, just around the corner. We checked in with a young man with good English, went to chose our pitch (the campsite was spread out along the little river with the reception in the middle so it was a case of which end you want). We settled for the wider field and soon set up camp – we were only a few yards from the river and the road – thankfully it wasn’t particularly busy and pretty quiet. We then had to call a vet in Bernkastel-kues (our next overnight stop) to get tapeworm treatment for Pupster so she could re-enter the UK later on in the week. I was very brave and spoke my best German to say hello and did anyone speak English (as I am rubbish at German). The receptionist called for another lady who spoke great English and we organised an appointment and to show my appreciation and that I wasn’t totally ignorant, said fabulous (or the German equivalent), thank you very much and goodbye in German. Okay, so it was very basic classroom stuff, but I felt very accomplished.
In celebration, we opened the bottle of wine that we had just bought at reception (it was quite nice) and actually cooked a proper meal rather than munching on cheese and other nibbles. I took Pupster on a walk to check out the other end of the camp and found a woodland footpath that took us to Tuchersfeld within minutes. When we returned, we relaxed together outside in the last rays of warm sunshine until the coolness sent us inside where we set the bed up and had a brew in bed. The campsite was lovely and quiet, the little river trickling by and the road still. It was great site surrounded by the valley and its wooded sides, a feeling of being hidden away.
