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.
https://grokipedia.com/page/central_bohemian_uplands
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.
We settled down for another night and slept well.
apathtosomewhere 