travel – apathtosomewhere

Heading South – Day Twenty Four

We decided to walk into Bergerac and its old city to visit the morning market. We followed the river bank to the bridge and crossed the River Dordogne. The old city is right next to the river and we were soon walking up its gentle slopes into a maze of ancient lanes and alleys. It was stunning, centuries old buildings with timber frames, some at wonky angles. It was so lovely. We wandered around until we came across the Eglise Notre Dame de Bergerac, a towering edifice with the market surrounding its perimeter. The market was busy with people perusing and buying – it was more a food market with fruit, vegetables and other consumables – with local farmers and producers selling their wares. We strolled around for a while taking in the atmosphere – there was a real buzz with lots of people shopping – then headed to a recommended cafe for brunch ordering muffins (well, brioche buns) filled with egg, avocado and bacon followed by coffee. We went back into the market to buy some veggies and then wandered around the streets again – we came across a wine shop and bought a couple of bottles of wine. We then headed to the Quai Cyrano wine shop, above the tourist information office and overlooking the river, where in quite elegant surroundings, you could have a wine taste. We sampled a couple and then bought a glass, together with crackers and pate (butternut and coconut for me and the Hubby, canard (duck). The walls were lined with bottles of wine, set in wood panelling, with low tables and comfy chairs to relax in. It was all very nice. We got chatting to an English couple from Oxfordshire who had a dog like Pup and then we swapped holiday tips. They were on a walking holiday with an organised group and were spending the day wine tasting. Sounded perfect to us.

https://www.visit-dordogne-valley.co.uk/natural-and-cultural-heritage/top-10-places-to-visit/villages-to-visit/cities/bergerac-the-town

https://en.quai-cyrano.com

We spotted a statue of Cyrano de Bergerac outside a church – the fictional character with his large nose. The real Cyrano de Bergerac was a writer and a soldier and was born in Paris rather than Bergerac. Apparently the only connection is through family estates.

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

We spent a good hour if not more at Quai Cyrano and after buying some more wine, we wandered back to the van – it had started to rain too, that drizzly rain that manages to gently soak you. We retraced our steps along the riverbank, watching where we put our feet and looking out for dog poo. The streets are usually free of it, but you take your chances going off road – the French are happy to leave it to nature. We still picked Pup’s up, but then find ourselves carrying it around, trying to find an elusive bin to dispose of it. Saying that, we haven’t really seen any rubbish on the streets at all – whether they take their rubbish home with them or the council have an army of street cleaners (we were chased around Brantome’s pretty square by one of those road sweeping machines), we’re not sure, but it’s nice to see such cleaniness.

Pup had a good morning sniffing Bergerac’s streets and meeting its dogs – it seems that the French have two sorts of dog, big hairy ones usually of German Shepherd descent or little Yorkshire Terriers/Shih Tzus and nothing much in the middle.

We had bought some postcards yesterday and wrote them up while it drizzled outside, listening to rowers and their coxswains shouting on the river – we were opposite the rowing club. When the rain eased off, Pup and I went for a walk back towards the bridge to post them. We came across a little roundabout with a fountain in the middle of it, with cars coming at all directions and an imposing “town hall” overlooking the scene. The post box that Apple Maps had identified was nowhere to found. We circled the fountain and spotted a La Poste box under a tree, by parked cars sitting on a cobbled island – well it looked like a postbox and had the La Poste logo on it, so I shoved the cards in the slot and hoped for the best. It was just in such a weird place. On the way back we met a dog off lead (we had seen him and his owner on the way to the postbox) who now came bounding over to us and wanted to play – Pup was itching to chase him too, but not on a residential street in Bergerac. I kept her on her lead. The lady, who explained it was her daughter’s dog, was elegant dressed in heels and struggled to catch the dog, so after a minute or so of the dogs bouncing around each other, I got Pup to sit so the lady could finally grab his collar. It was a brief encounter – the Pup is desperate for a big run instead of being walked everywhere on a lead, but we’re not sure of the regulations about dogs being off lead in parks or footpaths. Rather play it safe.

We got back to base and chilled for a while, then Hubby made tea. Afterwards I went to wash up and came back, putting the cutlery and crockery away while Hubby and the Pup played ball (dogs are suppose to be on a lead in campsites, but we’ve seen so many just wandering around – it is off season and quiet – that we’ve let Pup off too as she sticks close to the Van). Suddenly I heard Hubby shout at the Pup- the next moment, two dogs shot past the door at full pelt and it was the start of an hour or so of the dogs chasing each other (Pup’s wish had come true) while we chatted to the owner, a young guy who lived by the campsite. He was a lovely chap and we shared our wine with him, as we talked about various subjects and basically sorted the world out. He spoke English well and dropped in a few expletives which was funny to hear from a Frenchman. The dogs hung out together, intermittently chasing each other around the campervans and motorhomes -it was fun to watch and lovely to see Pup enjoying herself so much.

The night was drawing in as we finally said goodbye to each other and patted each other’s dogs. They had both visited the river and were a tad wet. Pup jumped into the Van and immediately crashed on her mat, exhausted. We had a cuppa and relaxed a while. Tomorrow we’re heading to Rocamadour that the Australians recommended yesterday to check that out! Looking forward to it.

Heading South – Day Twenty Two

We’re back to blue skies and sunny mornings. Yesterday was just a blip.

We watched all the different birds wading on the sandbanks of the Loire -cormorants, egrets, gulls enjoying the morning sunshine before we set off south.

We were doing a big jump today, but still stuck to the smaller country roads rather than big dual carriageways or motorways. The countryside was mixed with woodlands, opening up to small fields and then big, wide industrial sized arable fields with big skies and big clouds. We were now looking out for boar as well as deer when we passed along wooded roads. The latter part of the journey became a bit monotonous – becoming flatter and with long straight roads that went on for miles. We were glad when we stopped.

We were heading to Gencay first, as apparently there was a market there – it was only about 40 minutes away which would be perfect. Gencay turned out to be a tiny hamlet, possibly even a village of scattered dwellings, in the middle of nowhere and not a soul about. It was evident that there was no market here. We concluded that we had been led up the garden path and slightly disappointed, continued on our way.

We stopped at Chatellerrault, hoping to visit a chateau, but hadn’t really looked into it properly – getting too laidback. So we just we ended up sat in the Van, googling nearby chateaus, finding them either closed, privately owned, no dogs allowed or we had driven past them. Fail. So we went to a Biocoop store instead to stock up on food and then headed south again.

https://www.tourisme-vienne.com/en/webzines/chatellerault

The roads round here were not the best. They were either breaking up along the edges or had been badly patched that the Van rattled like mad (not sure what’s worse -our potholes or these bumpy highways) and we jiggered in our seats – there were many signs marked “chaussee deforme” and they weren’t kidding. We also noticed that the villages added mini roundabouts and didn’t seem to let people be aware of it – well, at least not Apple Maps. We were informed by Apple “to go straight for the next kilometre” but three roundabouts had been surreptitiously added so you had to be one your toes a bit! Perhaps Apple was aware, but with so many roundabouts in France, had gone all French and downed tools.

We came across a little town called Chauvigny and would of just driven through it until Hubby spotted a roadside sign declaring that this French town was twinned with the very English town he was born in! So when we hit the town centre, we parked in one of the copious car parks that made up the square (which were all full of vehicles, but where was everyone?) and had a little wander in the sunshine. The temperature had dropped from the giddy heights of 28 degrees to a sobering 17 today, but out of the wind it was quite pleasant. We looked in the shop windows before heading to a nearby patisserie to get sandwiches (6 euros each!!!! Ouch, though the Pup got some form of pastry – God knows what it was – from the shop assistants which she inhaled with gusto). We strolled back to the Van with our booty and made a cuppa.

https://www.tourisme-vienne.com/en/webzines/chauvigny-incontournable

We carried on with our trip, passing through little towns and villages decorated with pink umbrellas and bunting -the whole area was behind Breast Cancer Awareness as it was October. It was fabulous to see whole communities sending out the message. We passed through Gencay, a large town and the true home of our missing morning market (it was too far from Montsoreau to get there in time). Finally we were coming up to Ruffec, our home for the night, the campsite a little way outside of the town. The satnav took us on the scenic, yet tortuous route to get there and we rocked up outside a campsite that reminded us of a Carry On film. We did hesitate outside briefly, but this was our spot. We parked up under trees in a site with more static homes than tourers – it looked like it was more residential than holiday. But it ticked a box and the sanitaire was probably the best so far – loo paper, a toilet seat and lid rather than bare porcelain, taps rather than push buttons and clean, though as usual was a bit tatty around the edges.

We had a little bit of downtime, the Pup did a few rounds of zoomies and she and I went for a waddle to check out the rest of the site. A little while later, we waddled down to the River Charente.

We walked down the hill and came across a very pretty area. On one side was a restaurant (closed today) overlooking mill ponds – we discovered an old watermill at one end of the restaurant and it all started to make sense. There were a series of bridges that allowed us to cross the mill ponds and the River Charente to a big field – a big sign declared the area as a sporting hub with bike routes, fishing, walking and other sporting activities. We strolled under the trees to the riverbank and watched fishermen casting in the river. Spotting a wooden building opposite, we retraced our steps and found the canoe/kayaking base (closed for the night) but again with a board showing where you could kayak to, the distance and the time. We wandered around a little more – it was very pretty surrounded by trees and the little waterways, all very peaceful. With our stomachs starting to rumble for tea, we headed back up the hill to the Van and settled down for the night. It was quite cool, autumn definitely now settling in.

Tomorrow we are heading to Bergerac.

Heading South – Day Sixteen

We wanted to be up bright and early this morning to go to Concarneau’s market before we travelled further south. We even toyed with the idea of setting an alarm, but thought that was a bit over the top. We always beat our alarms……

Hubby shook me awake at 7:30 with the first chink of morning light. So much for an early rise, but we soon packed away and as we couldn’t leave the van at the campsite, decided to head into town. Last night, the girl on reception showed us which car park took campervans, which we duly located on Google maps and I even pinned it. I’ve come to the conclusion that our satnav hates us as it took us on a convoluted tour of Concarneau’s residential back streets and dropping us off at a tiny car park, that evidently was not in the right place – it hadn’t even taken us to the pin!!! So I made sure that it recognised the pin, but manually got us back on the main road and let the satnav guide us from there to the car park. However, Google hasn’t done an update recently as the entrance to the campervan park was blocked off with huge concrete barriers (they were building some apartments on some scrap land) and we were now heading to a height barrier for the car carpark. We blocked the road as we did a fifty point turn, smiling at the French drivers and mouthing “merci, merci” as they waited patiently. Finally, we intricated ourselves out of our sticky dilemma and with the next left turn, finally found the campervan car park!!!!

https://www.deconcarneauapontaven.com/en/residing/markets

It was full with motorhomes and campers and we snuffled the last spot. I went to pay at the machine, but a kindly camper stuck his head out of his unit and informed me that it was free (and so it was after September). So we waddled ten minutes down the road (gave us time to recover from all this trauma) and found the most marvellous French market on the big square where we walked yesterday evening – we wandered up and down the lanes, in awe of the amount of produce being sold. I had brought my big French basket on this trip and we filled it up with vegetables, bread, yoghurts, eggs and even a belt. It was a lovely experience and the Pup enjoyed meeting her French counterparts and getting the odd pat.

We bought coffees off the coffee stall holder and went across the road to some benches where we watched the world go by and wished there were fantastic markets like this near where we lived. The road was full of shoppers on their bikes, big buses and coaches swinging 360 degrees around a tiny roundabout, the general swarm of people – it was fabulous, it had such a great vibe and atmosphere. With our basket full, we wandered along the port, admiring the boats moored there and then walked up the slight hill back to the Van.

We noticed, as with other towns in France, that they each seem have an abundance of opticians – not just one or two shops, but quite a few vying for custom. Just seemed a bit excessive as the population of France seems no more wanting of eyewear than us Brits. However, we were very envious of the styles on offer with some fantastic bright and outrageous frames (think Pru Leith and you’re on the right track) which are very much lacking in our optician’s ranges.

We jumped onto the N165 heading to L’Orient further down the coast. Our daughter, who’s deeply into history, mentioned about visiting the U boat pens there. Intrigued, she told us that in World War Two, the Germans had built a massive concrete structure to house their submarines and it still survived. We did a quick Google – they did guided tours but they didn’t start until later in the week, but we decided to have a look anyway. From N165, it was an easy ride to the port area where La Base, as it’s known is located. It’s surrounded by warehouses, marine offices and other businesses connected to the port, with cars parked everywhere – it looked very chaotic. We had no intention of actually visiting, but expected it to be behind fencing and more alluring to tourists – we just wanted a quick look. We couldn’t find any dedicated parking so ended up on a piece of scrappy land where a German VW camper had its side door open, its occupants having lunch in the back, watching the port opposite. I nipped out, not convinced that this was La Base, just to get photographic evidence that I’d been there, but only got a seriously graffiti covered side wall. We decided to carry on our journey, wishing we had known about it earlier but at least we had a quick peek. We wheedled our way out of the maze of roads and found ourselves back on the main road out.

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

https://www.la-flore.fr/en/home

Not content that we had driven up our blood pressure several times today negotiating urban French roads, we decided to head to a nearby campervan accessory shop while we were in the vicinity – we still needed some awning straps and some toilet tablets, so we decided to go and find this particular place. It seemed we went through all of L’Orient’s industrial/business parks and most of their roundabouts (L’Orient also has bus lanes running down the middle of their roads, just to make it a bit more exciting). We finally found the accessory shop on a modern estate of light industry, which looked more like a factory than a shop. A kindly member of staff informed us that they only took orders via their website and then you could come and collect here in a few days. Seeing our disappointment, they offered us a coffee and pointed us in the direction of another accessory shop five minutes away. Bless them.

So we hit the road and again found ourselves on yet another business park. We found a sign for the shop, but the road looked like it ended in a dead end, a heap of unmade road and piles of earth – clearly this was a new business park still under construction. It never occurred to us to venture further down this road, so spent many minutes doing U-turns, stopping outside buildings and searching for clues on the whereabouts of this camping shop. Eventually I got out and accosted a lady, eating her lunch in the autumn sun and she pointed down towards the dead end – the road did continue round to the right.

So we followed her guidance and et voila, there was the biggest building around, brand spanking new and gleaming, its forecourt full of campers and motorhomes. You couldn’t miss it! The downside was that it was shut for lunch until 2pm, so with half an hour to kill, we made ourselves a cuppa in their car park, had a quick lunch and watched AWAC styled aeroplanes make repeated flyovers. Finally we were able to go inside and spent some time, admiring all the products, before buying what we needed. Feeling accomplished, we hit the N165 again and headed to Carnac, our home for the next three days.

It was lovely and sunny, a pleasant 22 degrees as we approached Carnac, but we needed a supermarket for a few bits so again, we traumatised ourselves again looking out for a suitable outlet. We came across a Lidl – that would do as we only needed mayo, salad dressing and beer and I nipped in. Seemingly staffed by only one girl who alternatively stacked and manned the tills, this particular branch didn’t have hand baskets, only large and unwieldy trolleys requiring an Euro to be released. I decided to balance my items in my arms as I tried to find the elusive salad dressing and white sauce (another member of staff appeared out of nowhere – as I tried to get Google Translate to co-operate, he sweetly informed me that he spoke English). He swiftly took me to the relevant aisles, where I thanked him profusely and staggered to the tills, picking up a couple of unscheduled items on the way. The till was empty – another couple waiting to be served – so I dumped my shopping on the conveyor belt and texted Hubby to say I would be back in a min – it felt that I had spent half the afternoon in there.

Finally, the girl appeared and I made my escape. The campsite was just down the road and we were weary of our little escapades today – the trauma of navigating, locating and driving had caught up with us. We checked in and found our pitch under shady trees, separated from our neighbours by five foot hedges. The back of the Van looked like it had suffered a major explosion – the French bag usually held my coats and spare shoes which all had been unceremoniously dumped on the back seat this morning and had slithered off, our shopping bags blocked the floor, the campsite had needed passports so things had got flung in the search of those. We took a deep breath, got the wine out and began to organise (we cleared the Van by chucking stuff out of the side door – what fellow campers thought, goodness knows). Soon, we were settled, the Van tidied, some laundry was being washed and the kettle was on.

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

We chilled for the rest of the day – we were here for three nights and could relax, no need to pack and get back on the road. It was quite a nice feeling. So tomorrow, a leisurely breakfast and maybe some checking out of the local area.

Thought of the Day: why do some (well, quite a lot) French ablution blocks never have loo roll in the toilet cubicles? There’s not even a loo roll holder! So you’ve got to take your own loo roll with you. I’ve stopped shoving it up my jumper and brazenly walk with the roll in my hand, but am I being so British again? I’m going to have to get used to all this and be more European.

Heading South – Day Ten

Slept well last night and woke about 8. We wondered why we have been “sleeping in” since we started this trip and then it dawned on us. Firstly, we’re a hour ahead so really it’s 7.00am GMT which is our normal time to wake up and secondly, the large hound who sleeps with us has stopped setting her alarm to ungodly hour and booping us for breakfast.

Today, we have a plan. First on the agenda is to do some laundry so I lugged our bag for the far side of the site (of course it would be), got some tokens, bunged the whole lot in the washer (coloured and whites so hope nothing runs) and pressed start. The washer whirred into life and flashed 45 mins on its little display. I waddled back to The Van where hubby was giving it a bit of a deep clean and put a timer on. Another waddle back to the laundry to put it in the dryer (the whites were still white, but now hoping nothing shrunk) and headed back for another 45 minutes. Basically it took all morning, I think I nearly did my daily quota of 10,000 steps, but at least we had clean clothes for another week and mission accomplished.

We decided to walk to the Intra-Muros, or the Old Town of St Malo, some 20 minutes away. We walked through the marina, skirted the little beach, negotiated the port entrance and finally ended up in front of the walled city. There was an archway that led into the streets, but we turned and took the steps up, so we could wander along the top of the walls and appreciate the splendid views across the bay. Various ships were crossing the estuary of the River Rance – catamarans, small sailing boats, a huge cruise ship, schooners, a DFDS ferry followed by a Brittany Ferry car ferry – it was very busy and they all had to negotiate the many outcrops of rocks and islands scattered around in the bay. We peered over the ramparts and watched people on the beach below – there didn’t seem to be any dogs, so The Pup was denied again. We wandered most of the way round, before we had to go down steps and back to the street level. Here it was very busy with restaurants and bars – their tables and chairs spilling out on the wide street. We stopped at one and ordered two beers which came with some peanuts and little biscuits and a pot of fish paste, relaxed in the sunshine and did a spot of people watching. The architecture was beautiful – it dates back to the 17th century, so there’s a lot of history. We carried on through the ancient streets, full of high end clothes shops, gift shops, patisseries, restaurants and much more. After a wander we came across a creperie and asked for a table for two. We ended up with a lemon and sugar crepe and a banana and chocolate washed down with coffee – again we sat outside and watched people. It was another fine day, weatherwise and quite warm. We had another little wander around and decided to head back to the campsite, but needed to visit a supermarket for food for The Pup. So we walked down the road into a small neighbourhood with a lovely little High Street, where we found a Carrefour City mini supermarket and bobbed in there. Then we wandered through the back streets back to the seafront -it was nice to see a local area rather than a tourist area – and sauntered back to the site. We checked out a couple of restaurants for a possible evening meal too.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint-Malo

Once back at the Van, we plopped into our chairs and enjoyed the late afternoon sun – so much that some of us had a little nap. Our little plan of walking back down the road and eating out didn’t seem so exciting now we were comfy, so we decided to cook in the Van – very glamourous: fish fingers, homegrown potatoes and a tin of baked beans. We know how to live it up!

A cat tried its chances and one of its nine lives, by sauntering past our Van’s side door, not realising there was 25kg of canine lying inside. The cat jumped and The Pup went to chase – heck! We shouted at Pup to stop and bless her, she did and I grabbed her collar, though I felt her pull a couple of times. A little bit of excitement! Thank goodness, The Pup is so obedient!

After tea and a cuppa, and the night closing in at 8:30, we shut up shop. We’re binge watching a TV series at the moment, so it’s nice to curl up. Tomorrow we plan to catch the ferry over to Dinard, across the River Rance, and spend the day over there.

Heading South – Day Two

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.

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

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

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.

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.

Heading South – Day One

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.

https://www.caravanclub.co.uk/overseas/france/hauts-de-france/le-camping-chateau-du-gandspette

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.

Ireland – Day One

We’re off on a new adventure!!

With a plan of following the Wild Atlantic Coast of Ireland for the next three weeks, we headed off in the campervan to Stranraer late afternoon. The motorway north was quiet and unremarkable, the day warm with the threat of rain. We’re due to catch the Cairnryan to Belfast ferry at 11am tomorrow morning and have booked a night at the Aird Donald campsite on the edge of Stranraer so we’re not rushing in the morning. We’ve been here before, almost 2 years exactly, with our old dog in tow and probably one of her last trips before she passed. With our new pup (already a hardened traveller), it’s a sort of bittersweet feeling – old memories recalled and new ones to be made.

We peeled off the M6 at Gretna Green and began the 97 mile trundle along the south Galloway coast – it doesn’t look far on a map, but it’s a long drive. Being a really pretty scenic ride (especially further west you go) with views of the coast and the Solway Firth, rolling green countryside and distant mountains, it softens the possible tedious of such a run. We had just one hairy moment, when a trucker, seemingly in a rush to make port, decided it was a great idea to overtake two cars on a single carriageway. Halfway through his hairbrained scheme, an oncoming car appeared -much to all our consternation – and suddenly this huge lorry is barging his way between us and the blue car behind. The blue car braked violently, allowing the lorry driver to slip in, but not content on almost taking out three vehicles, the lorry driver decided to berate us for not letting him overtake. He leant on his horn and flashed his lights and then preceded to hang onto our bumper, our rear window filled with an angry grille. At a suitable spot, we let him pass, fed up with him hassling us, just as we noticed a sign for a Driver and Vehicle Standards Agency checkpoint. Oh please, a little dusting of instant karma for this idiot, please. So imagine our delight as we came round the corner to find him stopped by a DVSA officer in the middle of the road, the agitated driver hanging out of his window in frantic discussion. We had no sympathy.

We arrived in Stranraer with darkening clouds gathering above the town. After a quick shop in the local Morrisons for something for tea, we checked in at the campsite just as the heavens opened. Perfect timing. The proprietor donned a heavy duty rain coat and walked in front of us, stopping to point out the facilities – we did offer for him to jump in the van with us, but he politely declined. The rain didn’t let up all evening so we’re unable to put up our little awning and have the side door open. So with the door firmly closed and the Van rapidly steaming up, we huddled together with a picky tea and a hot mug of tea and listened to the rain beating on the roof. We just hoped that this was the start of a run of bad weather………..