France 2011

May 29 – September 1

Thursday 29 May 2014: Melbourne, Australia

Our departure day for this year has dawned.  We have opted to travel to Tullamarine by bus. We are used to the concept that it takes longer to drive to the airport than to fly to Sydney. We can accept that we are many times more likely to suffer injury on the way to the airport than hurtling through the air  10 km above the ground. But we have trouble accepting that it costs about the same to take a taxi to the airport  as to fly first class to Peru. A slight exaggeration perhaps, but the idea is there. So bus it is.
We need to be at the bus stop at the top of our street by 11.34am. We have our two medium size bags and a piece of hand luggage each. The bus arrives at the appointed time and we check with the driver that the bus goes where we expect. We have our new myki cards which are all cashed up  for our $4 trip. There is a met passenger near the touch on device and he coaches us in the process when we say this is our first  myki experience. On completion he high fives us both and we are officially initiated.
We enjoy the ride as tourists in our own city and arrive near the SkyBus terminal which is a five minute walk away. As we leave, the female bus driver cheerily informs us that we could have taken the bus to Tulla for the same $4 instead of spending an extra $15 each for the SkyBus.  That little mistake has nearly blown the holiday budget. Ho hum.
The SkyBus quickly and efficiently delivers us to the airport where we checkin without problem.  
Three months ago we had booked our TGV tickets from Paris to Beaurainville where the motorhome is stored  There are only one or two trains to Beaurainville each day so our timing into Paris is important. The day after booking , the airline changed one flight time by 3 hours so we would miss our Dubai flight and would miss the train. The solution was to fly via Sydney. When that happened, our seat allocations disappeared. However discussions with Qantas informed us that the original allocations made by Flight Centre were invalid unless we had paid for them.  It all seemed a bit random but the outcome is that our flight to Dubai is not in  aisle seats as we had hoped. Our  flight to Dubai will require climbing over the passenger in the aisle seat. Just as the social codes regarding  proximity to others in the metro are often compromised , so it is with clambering over sleeping passengers on aeroplanes.
Our domestic flight to Sydney lands on schedule and we are shuttled over the tarmac to the international terminal where we board our A380 to depart by 5pm.  The 15 hour flight drags somewhat. Because of the late afternoon departure, a significant part of the journey is sleeping time….for those who can sleep on aircraft. We don’t much and because of our poor access to the aisle, we don’t spend as much time exercising as we have on other flights. We still manage the odd traverse of the spiral stairs at the aircraft’s aft end but because of our position, the flight drags on.
Finally we are in Dubai where we have an hour or two to kill before our Emirates flight to Paris. There are lounge chairs at the departure gate where we doze in fits and starts, not wanting to sleep too heavily lest we miss our flight. Our fears are unfounded as the chairs are too uncomfortable for us to sleep.  
Finally we board and in 8 hours land at Paris. We clear border control with a quick stamp of our passports , collect our bags and head for the train station.

Friday 30 May 2014 : Paris , France

t is around 10.30 am when we reach Paris Nord, the station from which our TGV leaves at 2.50pm. We have a leisurely wait on one of the platforms where we find seats away from the crowd. As usual, the signs are merely a clue to the information they are purporting to impart and we are pleased there is plenty of time. At one stage we had contemplated arriving at CDG and getting a TGV one hour after landing. Admittedly that would have left from CDG but the timing would have been tight and stressful. Thumb twiddling is infinitely preferable to nail biting. Once again, in the relatively short time we are in the milling crowds around the station, we are approached by 5 or 6 beggars and one petition scam operative.  Brushing off the beggars seems callous but  the bona fides of many or most are in doubt as we have observed before in Paris.
Finally our TGV is ready to leave. We are in carriage 15 and the train seems so long that we appear to walk half way to our destination before  boarding the train. From Arras we transfer to an RER train for our trip to Beaurainville. We have 10 stations before ours and we pass 7 in quick time. However the final 3 take forever and we arrive at Beaurainville at 6pm, the scheduled time.
We had decided the 20 minute walk to The Long  House would be welcome after the long period of sitting. We are relying on TomTom to guide us there along a walking route. We charged the device before we left Australia so assume there will be plenty of oomph for the walk. Bad assumption. TomTom is showing an orange battery symbol and is having trouble locking onto the required number of  satellites  so we are not sure where to go.
We remember the general direction and start walking. Ro spots a pharmacy where we have found the likelihood of English being spoken is high. In the mean time I stroll around with TomTom as we have found motion makes locating satellites more likely.  Sort of the reverse of getting a baby to sleep. As Ro returns with directions scribbled on a bit of paper, TomTom gets her act together. No doubt, had Ro not got  directions, TomTom would have died. For some unknown reason, that is the way fate works.
Although the pharmacy directions seem to conflict with TomTom, we arrive at the Long House not much after 6.30pm. A quick “hello” and we go to our beloved, if somewhat dusty, Escargot de Wheels.
Steve has cranked the engine  so we are off to a good start. With the aid of a  hose we make the  windscreen transparent, an important property for a windscreen. A quick look inside reveals that mice have not had a field day (maybe there were  not field mice) so we depart.
Jacki has told us that the Carfours (supermarket) closes at 7.30  and it is 6.35 according to TomTom.  We dash to Carfours in the hope that if we are in the store before closing, they won’t throw us out. However, when we arrive, the store is closed. TomTom is on UK time, one hour behind,  so we have missed out.
No food, worn out and 90 minutes to the campsite we wanted to reach. Perhaps a change of plan is in order. We see a hotel with food and decide that is for us. We will sleep in the carpark and go to our camp site tomorrow.
The waiter brings us menus in English. Ro orders an omelette and  I order a  chicken dish  in English, saying to the waiter that I assume he speaks English, only because he provided English menus. He seems to ignore the comment and I think maybe I have offended him. Later it transpires that he does not speak English but asks us in signish language if we enjoyed the meal. We did.
We leave immediately after our main as we are both very tired. Instead of parking in the carpark we drive toward a stream in the hope of finding a parking spot. Although it is about 9pm, it is still fully light.
Ro is so tired she goes to bed immediately. I have a quick shower and am in bed not long after her but by then she is fast asleep.

Saturday 31 May 2014 : Beaurainville , France.

How amazing is a good night’s sleep. We awake refreshed and ready to go. Breakfast consists of porridge made with oats from last year, peppermint tea from last year, some break left over from last night’s meal and biscuits and jam from the air flight.
We have a 90 minute drive to Houplines where we will stay for 3 nights before our ferry trip from Dunkirk to Dover on Wednesday morning…… at 4 am.
On the way we stop at a Lidl and purchase some groceries.In previous years we have  had problems using our Travel card at Lidl and we have 90 euro in cash. Our groceries come to 77 euro but we want to buy an inverter for 20 euro and if the card won’t work we have insufficient cash. So we purchase the groceries with some fiddling about and discussing  of our dilemma with the checkout chick who speaks some English. The card works so we do a second transaction to buy the inverter. Meanwhile the queue is growing behind us. However, as we have noticed before, no one gets annoyed at the holdup  and we depart with a cheery “Bon Journee”.
We arrive at our camp site by 2 pm and settle in.
Our Escargot de Wheels looks like it has just emerged from the garden. It is dusty, dirty and a mess inside. Our plan is to spend a few days cleaning, tidying and doing a few maintenance tasks before we travel to UK.
First job is to wash the van. What comes off the van is little short of mud. How it got so dirty in an enclosed barn is a bit of a mystery.  But a wash and a bit of polish makes a world of difference and a solid bit of vacuuming, apart from nearly melting the undercooled vacuum, improves the inside.
We are informed that aperitifs are to be served at 7 pm and we are invited. It only occurs once a year  and tonight’s the night. We arrive at 7 and are offered various spirits etc, none of which appeals. I return to the van for some red wine and Ro has some herbal tea. But we find some people who speak a little English and we have an enjoyable few hours, including  some animated discussion with a tipsy Frenchman who speaks no English. The discussion is facilitated by a Belgian lady who speaks French and English. Unfortunately her role of translator she finds confusing. She delivers the Frenchman’s comments to me in French, searching for some words in English and my comments to the Frenchman in English searching for some words in French.  The gist of the conversation is not easily understood by either party. No matter. After some time the Frenchman, who is wearing a flower adorned hat with a squeeking  purple pig and dummy on a string,  leaves, kissing both my cheeks in farewell. He shakes Ro’s hand. I inquire through my translator why he would kiss me and shake Ro’s hand and he replies via the translator he knew I was Australian but thought Ro was English. Once he understands she is Australian also and thus possessed of a less formal disposition, he kisses her twice also.
Returning to the van we have dinner and as tiredness catches up, go to bed.

Sunday 1 June 2014 : Houplines , France

We wake to the sounds of a cuckoo bird. We are not used to the sound, not having the birds in Australia. We can imaging a clock with the cuckoo popping out to announce the time….one…two…three………….400…401…. It loses its charm after 500.  
The day is cool with brief clear patches through which the rays of a warming sun protrude. More odd jobs are done, including fitting of new speakers for the radio, including two tweeters which I mount into the dashboard. Unfortunately a short to the chassis causes rather unpleasant  sounds to emanate from one speaker and the tweeter on one side turns up its toes. Blast!
Another problem which we have noted is the empty gas tank. The water seemed to take forever to boil and inspection of the gauge showed it to be empty when we know it was nearly full last year. As the main valve was off, there must be a leak in the tank or filler line. Until we refill, we have to modify our cooking. Fortunately we don’t need hot water for showers.
I decide that tomorrow we had better pull the tank out, clean and paint it and check for leaks.
In the mean time, we will read, do bits and pieces and go for a walk. We would ride our bikes but the tyres need air and the pump we bought for 2 euro last year removes more air from tyres than it adds. Tomorrow when we visit Monsieur Bricolage for paint and a wire brush we will go via a servo for some air.

Monday 2 June 2014  : Houplines , France

After a comfortable sleep, we awake to a misty day. The forecast is for a warmer day but  we have work to do. Breakfast is a bit more ordered now that we have purchased groceries but its downfall is the sliced bread which has to suffice in the stead of toast due to an absence of toasting facilities. We must buy a small toaster; and perhaps a small trailer as our free storage space is diminishing. The sliced bread is its downfall because, when we purchased the wholemeal bread,  we had forgotten how dreadful sliced bread is in France. It is German and so sweet it is sickly. Presumably the French hold sliced bread in such disdain that no one in France makes it. Perhaps the dreadful bread is to ensure the French do not get a taste for it and dilute the  French culture. We are unlikely to get a taste for it.
So now to M Bricolage. We  are told it is opposite the railway station in Armentieres about 5 km away. Asking  TomTom to take us to the city centre is a slight mistake but nonetheless we reach our goal, albeit via the not entirely unknown  circuitous route.
The male assistant there is helpful but speaks zero English. He is about  to call for an English speaker when we indicate that our needs are simple. He accompanies us to the grinding disk department. Immediately we have a problem. Is the grinding disk for solid or tube, he signs. However the signs are not as distinct as we would like. I settle for one for solid steel. Now for a wire brush for the grinder. That is straightforward. Now for some spray paint. This is more challenging.  We determine that we want exterior paint in black. But how to indicate ”rust preventative”? I point to a can with GALV on the label. But I don’t know what the rest of the label says. Maybe it says “Specially formulated for painting anchors”. Whatever it says, it does not help our understanding. A lady is hovering nearby with a helpful/pitying look on her face. I ask if she speaks English and she does a little. But when I say we want to paint bare metal she looks perplexed. If she knew us better she may not have been so perplexed. We  try to explain rust. When water goes onto steel it goes red and flakey. Rouille!  The attendant picks up a can with “anti-rouille” and we think we are getting somewhere. Later we will discover the paint is perfect for our job.
Leaving M. Bricolage with our purchases, we visit Lidl opposite for some palatable bread. The sliced bread will do as a wheel chock in a few days.
It would seem a simple task to fill some bicycle tyres with air. Not true. We set TomTom for a servo but miss the turn on the roundabout. One km later we are back but have to wait while two cars fill so we can drive through to the air supply. We need 1 euro to use the machine. But it is not working.  We set TomTom for another servo but we miss that turn on the roundabout also. Two km later we are back but a boom gate blocks our way. What a shame. This air is only 30 euro cents. We abandon our search and set TomTom for our campsite. As we travel, there before us is a Total servo with accessible and free air where we fill the bike tyres and check the van tyres. Such is life.
Back at the camp site I prepare to remove the gas tank. The filler hose needs to be removed to completely remove the tank.  However I believe there is still a  little gas in the tank so I decide to leave it tethered by same to the van while I work on it. I remove four bolts to allow the tank to drop. It is surprisingly heavy  and once on the ground sloshes indicating it is far from empty! It is the gauge which is questionable, not the tank which is empty!
Having narrowly avoided disaster yet again, I clean the tank with the wire brush on the grinder and paint the tank black with the very impressive paint from M. Bricolage. Refitting the tank, we feel much happier knowing we have gas for showers, cooking, heating and the fridge.
By now it is getting toward dinner time and, after some wine/tea and nibbles, Ro makes a lovely meal including some  salmon pieces cooked in the packaging in boiling water.
By now it is about 10pm. The late dusk here causes it to get late without us noticing. Time to shower for bed.

Tuesday 3 June 2014. : Houplines , France

We get the ferry from Dunkirk to Dover very early tomorrow morning. The plan is to get to Dunkirk about 9pm and sleep until 3am ready to board for a 4am departure. We have no particular plans for today but our initial thoughts are to drive to the Opal Coast which runs from west of Calais to just west of Dunkirk.
We spend a relaxing morning  lying in the sometimes sunshine and sometimes light rain. Neither is particularly inspiring but the relaxing is.  We take the opportunity to shower as we may not tonight, depending on circumstances at the time.
We leave about 1pm and drive 100 odd kilometres to Bologne sur mer. The countryside is superb with fields of varying hues of green and gold. France is definitely my favourite country outside of Australia. What a contrast! Australia’s dry  compared with France’s verdant .
As we reach Bologne sur mer it looks like we are going to get into city traffic so we divert to the first town on Cote d’ Opal, 6.5 km away. In the past we have observed that coastal drives in Europe frequently have no view of the sea. This is true of this road also. We decide to stop by the sea for a hot drink and drive into a car park at Cap gris nez. Needless to say, there is no view. We walk to the ocean, 100 metre away, and gaze at the channel until the biting wind invites us to return to the sanctity of our Escargot. There we enjoy our hot drink then continue  along the coast road where we quickly  find the place we should have stopped where there is a  sea view.
As we always find in France, the small towns are enchanting. The drive along the winding road through green pastures punctuated by the small villages and glimpses of the sea comes to an abrupt end when we reach Calais, w concrete metropolis. We set TomTom to the ferry port near Dunkirk 30 km away and travel motorways through industrial areas.  Gone are the green pastures replaced instead by tar and cement (can I feel a song coming on?).
We reach the port by 7pm. There is a large parking area where a sign proclaims stays of over 15 days are prohibited. We do not feel inclined to holiday here so our 8 hour stay will not incur any authority’s wraith.
I walk to the ticket office and check our booking. The attendant informs me we can take a 2am, 4 am or 6 am crossing, which is welcome news. We can sleep until 5am instead of the planned 3am.
There are 30 or 40 motorhomes, caravans and cars doing the same as us. Included in this group are three vintage caravans, one towed by a 1950s Vauxhall and another collapsing vintage van towed by an MGBGT. We chat with the owners, reminiscing about the 1964 MGB which I owned in the late 1960s.  I recalled that I towed a tandem trailer with mine and the steering wheel  broke. The MGBGT owner noted that that was a common fault with those spoked steering wheels. And all these years I was thinking it was me at fault.
After a light meal, we are in bed by 11. As is often the case, we  love the independence the self contained motorhome gives us. We can stop where we wish and have all the facilities available that we need. It makes travelling so easy.

Wednesday 4 June 2014 : Dunkirk , France

I awake at 4am. Perhaps  I did not readjust my body clock. Fortunate we have changed our departure time or we  would have missed the ferry now leaving. However I have the luxury of another 50 minutes sleep before I need to get up.
When the alarm rings, I bound out of bed (or was it crawl) and prepare to get into the boarding queue. The number of trucks is astounding. There are two or three lines stretching as far as the eye can see.  
We have to clear two border controls: one out of France and 50 meter away the one into UK. We are grilled by the UK officer more than we have ever been before. Presumably routine. Then an officer climbs aboard to check for goodness knows what. Whatever he is looking for, it only takes 30 seconds and he leaves. Five minutes later we drive aboard, parking next to a long line of trucks. The vintage caravans are just behind us.
We depart at the scheduled time of 6am.The crossing is  very calm but quite misty so we see little except sea.  The white cliffs of Dover appear and my head fills with “There’ll be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover, Tomorrow just you wait and see.”  The birds may be blue but the skies are not and tomorrow promises little better. But I like the song.
We are among the first off the ferry and the non blue skies are dropping their contents on us. We drive to the foreshore where we found last year there is a parking area frequented by motor homes. It is 7.30am and we are ready for breakfast of porridge,  toast and jam. We need to sort out the SIM for our mobile so try to start the engine to head for the mobile shop. No sound at all. I had noticed a few minutes ago that I had left the headlights on and had hoped that the battery was not compromised. But this is more compromise than I had expected. There is no power at all. Fortunately we have time to burn so this is merely an inconvenience. A quick wobble of terminals under the bonnet and the culprit  collapses in my hand. Far more convenient that it happened here than on board the ferry or half a dozen more inconvenient places. How is it that we are so lucky? The problem is easily fixed by removing a bolt and replacing it elsewhere. Off we go.
We have the address of the mobile shop and TomTom confidently guides us there. But the street name and number is wrong. Two people nearby do not know where the shop is but the third thinks it is 100 metre away. It is, and soon I have credit on my phone and access to the internet.
Next stop Dover Castle where we spend 4 hours looking at the magnificently restored facility. It covers the period from 43 AD to current times and has been in active use most of that time up until 1984. The  castle was built by Henry 2nd  and is a  splendid  building  of three storeys. Henry  colonised a very large proportion of Europe and the castle was used as his seat of power and for entertaining dignitaries from Europe. The castle has been refurbished spectacularly to reflect the time with vibrant colours in the king’s chamber and the reception hall. At that time, coloured pigments were very costly so the more colour in furnishings, the more wealthy the owner.  We  also visit medieval tunnels which are extensive, if rather bleak. Tunnels were  used  extensively throughout all the ages and many built in 18th century  were used in WW2 for command headquarters. More tunnels were built in WW2 for use as a hospital. Even following WW2 the tunnels were set up  during the cold war to be used in the event of nuclear warfare.  In 1986 they were abandoned at the   In all there are   5 or 6 miles of tunnels dating from medieval times to WW2. The day is filled with informative tours and walks.
Unfortunately our internet connection fails to initialise requiring us to return to the shop for them to weave some IT magic over the protocol settings. Why I did not think to set the protocol descriptions to “anywhere, anytime, anyhow” ( or something similar) indicates  a severe lack of understanding on my part.
Our communications problems addressed we set off for our overnight camp site. We have a postcode which in England when entered into the TomTom usually positions  one within some meters of the required destination. Unfortunately this one may be incorrect as we end up well away from our intended destination. We  make a telephone call with our newly acquired SIM and are given another postcode showing we should be 3.5 miles away.
We are once again acquainted with some of England’s narrow, hedge lined laneways. At one point we meet a car at a narrow passing point. The female driver signals frantically that there is too little room. She reverses a little then moves closer to her hedge. Then like an injured sheep, she freezes as we inch past her. What’s her problem? We still have an inch or two to spare.
After a few more formation flying type passes, we reach our destination, a green treed minimalist campsite with the usual welcoming  residents. Another delicious dinner of beef with  mushroom sauce and we get to bed by 10pm. Our evenings in the van are a far cry from those at home, not the least of which is three months without television!

Thursday 5 June 2014 : Dover , England

We leave our campsite at 10.30 with our destination set for Rye. A winding road eventually leads us there. The route through Rye includes a big U turn across a narrow bridge, which fails to deter large trucks, then a left turn into a laneway with bushes scraping both sides. Despite its narrowness, it is a major thoroughfare and a line of cars snakes behind us. Once out into the open where we have clearance either side of up to 300mm, a veritable highway, we start to look for a parking place.
There are cars parked everywhere. Double yellow lines prohibiting parking are all but obscured by the cars parked over them. We drive past parking  lots where we could park but for the height restriction bars. Perhaps we can park outside the town and cycle in. However the exit roads are narrow with no parking. We try a side street  and eventually find a field gate where we can at least stop for morning tea. Even parking here means vehicles passing have to use the rest of the road. Perhaps we will give Rye a miss. Later we learn that Thursday is market  day in Rye, an excellent day not to visit the town.
Next stop is Beachey Head. Driving into this area we find plenty of parking, all with parking meters. Every bit of unkempt,  pot holey and  muddy bit of ground which is not the road has a parking meter. Fairly obviously, the revenue from the meters does not go into upkeep of the parking areas; or even the machines which are also rather ratty. We drive to the foreshore,  which is actually a cliff face, where there is a car park (and meter) where we have lunch. There is  a platform which supports a flight of stairs to the pebble beach. We walk out onto the platform but the wind is so strong and cold, we retreat to our little haven.
Earlier today I looked at the damaged tweeter and saw an opportunity to repair the tiny speaker filament which was broken. The wire is about the diameter  of a human hair. With some bright sunlight and my soldering iron which the inverter will power, I can repair the tweeter. The day has not been a total loss. We may have missed Rye and been blown away at Beachey Head but we now have a tweeter. How good is that? Now, did I hear you say is it necessary to travel to the other side of the world to fix a tweeter? If so, I suspect someone is missing the point!
Next stop Brighton. We travel through attractive valleys until we reach the outskirts of Brighton, heralded by long lines of traffic. We are about to start over a bridge where a long line of cars snakes its way down the on ramp when we see a Lidl sign.  When we see a Lidl sign, we feel the need for a Lidl shopping expedition to replenish provisions. We purchase some batteries, some crocs  for Ro(in Australian green and yellow AND with crocodile patterning), some vice grips and a bit of food. Our travel card does not work in this store work but, luckily, we have cash.
On exiting the store, the traffic is as bad as before so we abort our attempt to visit Brighton today and head instead for our camp site, about 12 miles north of Brighton. We will stay here two nights, visiting Brighton tomorrow.

Friday 6th June 2014 : Brighton , England   

The day proves to be  beautiful with a cloudless sky and about 24 deg celsius. The pool is the same temperature. We are seduced by the sunshine. They say to make hay while the sun shines  and ‘hay’ rhymes with ‘lazy day’. Does that sound like justification?
Actually our plan had been to drive to Hassocks station about 6 miles away and to take the train to Brighton to avoid parking which it had been suggested could cost 20 pounds for 4 hours! The problem was that by the time we contemplated leaving, we would not have reached Brighton until 2.30, too late to do  the Royal Pavilion justice.
We need to get the 7pm ferry to Isle of Wight tomorrow. The drive is 1 ½ hours so we can visit Brighton tomorrow and see Plymouth, originally planned for tomorrow, on Wednesday on our return from I of W.  
So today we spend swimming (once!) and chatting to some very friendly couples. In previous years we had implemented rest days each week as sightseeing overload can claim a toll. Last year we did not have so many rest days and we noticed the difference. The return to a more relaxed journey is welcome.
  
Saturday 7th June 2014 : Brighton , England

The new plan is to drive to Hove, adjacent to Brighton, and ride in on our bikes. We execute the plan but with farewelling some friends met at the campsite etc, we end up arriving at Hove at 1pm, rather later than the 10am intended time.
We find a four hour parking spot next to a recreation area (at no cost!) then ride down to the Brighton foreshore and  along it for a kilometre or two. We ride past the remains of the famous cast iron pier and on past the carnival rides. The beach is quite crowded with locals basking in the occasional ray of sunshine on the stony beach. Coming from a warmer climate, we are rugged up in long pants and sweaters but the locals seem perfectly happy in the chill breezes in shorts and tee shirts. However few are braving the chilly water.
After a few kilometres we see a sign directing us to the Royal Pavilion. We lock our bicycles to a stand and continue on foot. In front of us is a large building with dozens of adornments which are more appropriate to India than UK. It was built over 40 years by George IV as a temple to opulence and hedonism .about 200 years ago. We purchase our tickets then hike to the well hidden  café for some lunch. Unfortunately the menu does not really appeal and we settle for a ham roll which proves to be quite tasty despite requiring a machete to render it bite size. As time is getting away from us before our required 4.30 pm departure, we hurriedly pay our bill and go back to the ticket office for our audio commentaries.  
There are  22 rooms about which there is commentary. George 1V’s intent was to amaze and impress his guests. The entrance hall is understated but leads to a long gallery which is as overstated as the  entrance is understated. All the decoration is oriental either actual or replica. The balustrades are UK timber carved and painted to look like bamboo. George liked the idea of illusion. The stair treads are cast iron but simulate bamboo. There are chandeliers held by chinese dragons and wall paper is of chinese scenes.
Moving from the gallery, one enters a huge banquet hall  with a cavernous domed ceiling with 5 large chandeliers again held by dragons and with liberal serpents adorning columns and the like. Perhaps the picture is becoming clear. Excess is not enough.
We spend an hour or so moving between the rooms, comparing the opulence of the royal rooms with the starkness of the serving quarters. Admittedly the kitchen was state of the art and George even ate dinner once in the kitchen of which he was proud. However  a red carpet was installed for the occasion.
We need to leave by 4.30 to ride back then get to Plymouth. The Royal stables close to the Royal Pavilion now house a modern art museum  and we only have half an hour to view it, which is really too short a time. In many ways we enjoy the art more than the pavilion.
We return to our bikes at 4.25 and ride back to the van, a slightly uphill ride which Ro finds slightly arduous. Once in the van we set the TomTom for Plymouth Gunwharf from which the ferry leaves. We will make it with 15 minutes to spare, assuming there are no holdups.
Fortunately there are not and we are only in the queue for five minutes before driving aboard. The trip is calm and takes about 45 minutes. We travel  on the inaptly named ‘sun deck’  where we huddle behind a lifeboat davit sheltering against the cold wind in our long pants, jumpers and coats while the locals again bask in shorts and tee shirts.
Arriving at Fishbourne we set TomTom to our campsite 10 minutes away. By 8pm we are ready to have dinner and settle in for the night.

Sunday 8th June 2014 : Isle of Wight

We sleep well and awake to a clear blue sky spending  the morning enjoying full sunshine and boosting our vitamin D.
By lunchtime we have had our fill of that so leave to visit Carisbrooke Castle, an English Heritage property about 5 miles away. The castle was built in 12th century and has been in use ever since, albeit with modifications along the way. We start at the gatehouse which is in good condition with a lovely 19th century cast iron spiral staircase giving access to the upper levels. Here we see some medieval weaponry and the eating hall with its huge fireplace. It must have been warm and cosy compared with the rest of the castle. From there we move to the guardhouse where a short film tells us of the castle’s history. Highlights were the imprisonment of Charles 1prior to his execution and the period when Princess Beatrice, youngest child  of Queen Victoria, owned and developed the site.
We have  lunch in the tea room. I have  soup and bread and Ro an egg sandwich. It is a much more enjoyable lunch than yesterday’s. In fact, the whole afternoon is more enjoyable than yesterday’s sight seeing.
We continue on to view a museum established by Princess Beatrice then watch as a donkey operates a treadmill to raise water from a well some hundreds of feet deep. The treadmill has operated since before the 14th century, with some reincarnations along the way. Nevertheless, this treadmill incarnation is 400 years old, the oldest working treadmill in UK.
After a walk around the castle walls it is time to leave. In the carpark we have a hot drink then head to the south west coast of the island for a coastal drive.
At our campsite near Brighton, one couple had said that the Isle of Wight is charming. Another couple said it was not worth the bother. Each to his own. We happen to agree with the first. It is absolutely charming.
It is now about 7pm and we are heading back to our campsite. First, though, we want to have an English Pub meal. We pass The Hare and Hounds and there is easy parking so that will do us.
We both opt for the Sunday roast and I wash it down with a pint of Guinness the taste for which I developed last year. They are rather larger meals than we are used to so maybe we won’t eat tomorrow.
Tomorrow we will visit Osborne House, another Royal residence. But now for a good night’s sleep.

Monday 9th June 2014: Isle of Wight

Another clear sky with the promise of a warm day; around 23 deg. After breakfast we top up our vitamin D for half an hour then leave for Osborne House.
We are still confused by the gauge on the gas tank (now beautifully painted!) so call into a servo that refills LPG. It takes 24.9 litre which means if it was not empty, it certainly was not full. Now we are ready for all that Scotland can throw at us as we have gas to spare for our Escargot heater.
So to Osborne House. As it is English Heritage, of which we are members, we get in free. Victoria ascended the throne at 18 and was queen until her death at 81. Her award winning  reign will only be matched by Queen Elizabeth in two years. Although at 20 she did not like the idea of marriage, she was captivated by Albert who she thought to be the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Their marriage was somewhat stormy but based strongly on love. Queen Victoria has had rather bad press in that she is portrayed as being stern and prudish. In fact she was quite an emotional person and Osborne House is testament to the fact she was not prudish as there are dozens of naked statues with nary  a fig leaf in sight. Albert’s Tutonic background was the stabilizing influence for Victoria’s emotional personality. Her sternness was manifested following Albert’s death at the age of 42 from typhoid. It was only the intervention by John Brown, her man servant, which restored her former character long after Albert’s death.  
First we walk 1.2 miles  through a miniature Versailles like garden and fountains then to the sea where Queen Victoria was encouraged to bathe by  Albert. However, as was the custom of those times, she bathed from  a Bathing Machine which was like a gypsy caravan with 2 metre high  wheels which ran down 150 metres of stone tracks into the sea. Inside the bathing machine, she could change into a full bathing dress then emerge into the water under cover of the veranda.
From there we walk to the Swiss House which is a cubby house commissioned by their father  for the children to introduce them to the ways of normal people. This is no ordinary cubby house. It is a two storey replica of a Swiss chalet probably 20 metre by 10.  Further over there is a playground with a smaller replica of the Swiss chalet. I assume inside this there is a smaller replica and within that a smaller one…… but I am not sure.
We have some lunch in the gardens before walking back to Osborne House to explore the  rather huge royal weekender. The property was bought in 1845 following the then prime minister’s suggestion that Victoria may like it. She  fell in love with the property and area immediately and loved it to her end, dying at age 81 in her bedroom there amongst her family.
The ground floor consists of long hallways with many statues as previously described. The formal rooms are as regal as would be expected but with a holiday shack feel about them. Albeit a royal holiday shack. The ceilings are magnificent and, remarkably, are mostly original with the odd touch up. There are some magnificent chandeliers and free standing lamps. The walls are adorned with numerous paintings, many of which are ‘family portraits’.
Next we climb to level 3 where we see some of the nursery rooms. There is a child’s sized circular dining table with miniature high backed chairs. Very evocative of children playing grown ups. Just not your common or garden grown ups.
Down to level 2 to see the royal bed chambers which must have seen quite a bit of action as Victoria had 5 daughters and 4 sons, all of whom survived into adulthood. They show quite a degree of homeliness, which reflects the queen’s desire that the house be cosy and an escape from the public glare.
I have a good feeling about this place. It  remind me of our little holiday shack by the sea. Not all of it: just  the bathing machine.
We leave by 4.30 and decide to visit Winkle Street which we were advised to see by the pro Isle of Wight couple.  Once again parking is difficult but fortunately we find an appropriate park. Winkle street is straight out of  17th century, if you ignore the cars. Some of the two storey stone cottages have thatched rooves  and climbing roses. All appear to have very low ceilings. Opposite is a fast running stream which originally formed an important part of the site selection. All the cottages are in wonderful condition.
It is easy to see why people would like living on this picturesque island. We head back to our camp site for our final night on the island. We have enjoyed our stay here.  

Tuesday 10th June 2014: Isle of Wight

Today we board the ferry back to the mainland at 4pm. We are feeling a bit castled out and Ro wants to wash her hair, a fairly major undertaking.
We have had the campsite to ourselves overnight  and it has been very quiet and restful.  Opposite the campsite is a steam railway so the silence is broken occasionally by a short steam whistle; but that is evocative and somehow restful in itself.
I attend to some chores then continue reading “The Riddle of the Titanic” which I bought last year at an op shop in France ( I like France…. or have I already said that?)
By lunchtime we are ready to leave.  Driving to the ferry terminal we find a pub where we can while away an hour or so having lunch. It is a very nicely decorated old English pub. Ro orders a fish meal and I have bangers and mash, washed down with ½ pint of Guinness. A full pint is more than I need and ½ is a bit too little. Pity I can’t order 0.72831 of a pint. That would have been perfect.
We walk to the sea and watch the 3pm ferry leave. It reverses for probably 1 km before turning as the channel is narrow.  Continuing our walk, we come across two sculptures made of old anchor chain welded into stick figures. These beaches would appear to be private beaches but we are not accosted by angry residents so we mooch about for 10 minutes before returning to the van.
The ferry loading area is only 200 metre away and soon we are in Lane 10 which is reserved for trucks, commercial vehicles and us. At 3.55 we drive on to the ferry, decamp to the sun deck  and within minutes we are away.
The ferry reverses along the channel and we wait for the turn. It does not come. We reverse the whole way. Instead of a forward view we see what we are leaving; and we don’t get blown away. So no complaints.
At Portsmouth, we head for our overnight camp site. We had tried contacting the site from Australia by email but silence was the stern reply. Now in England with our 100 minutes of talk time, 400 SMSs and 1 gig of data, we can call the site. All is fine; we can overnight there for 13 pounds.
Within 1 hour we are nearly there, having done battle with peak hour on the motorway. Our incorrect exit 500 metre early did cause some grief as TomTom, in her most autocratic voice, directed us  to someone’s front gate, but we arrive without further incident.
We meet a delightful couple from Wales (she originally from Scotland) with whom we chat for some hours before a latish dinner. After dinner, a quick walk is in order and, bless my cotton sox, there is a wrecked caravan which is a womble if ever I saw one. Tomorrow  I will take my trusty toolbox for a womble feast.
But now to bed.

Wednesday 11th June 2014 : Portsmouth , England

A check with the camp owners confirms that the pile of junk is just that. I have my eye on  two jacks and a piece of stainless steel. After a slight fight to dislodge the jacks, I return to the van with my spoils which have very slightly increased to include  some heater ducting. With our itinerary including Scotland, I am preparing  for cold weather so intend improving the heat distribution.
Back at the van, I have some difficulty stowing my wombles. However, the heater duct will only lessen Ro’s sleeping area by a small amount so what’s the fuss?
We farewell our newly made friends, who it has transpired are very familiar with Australia and promise to visit next time they are there.
We want to see the Giant Chalk Man at Cerne Abass and the township of Cerne Abass itself. Within an hour we are at the village, having negotiated the usual hedge lined pathway which people in Europe rather quaintly refer to as a road.
The village is delightful. Apart from the ubiquitous motor vehicle, there is little clue to modern times. We walk around the village and up by a stream before chancing upon a church from which the sounds of eclectic music are emanating. The theme from “The Great Escape” suggests that what is going on is not  ecclesiastical business. A note on the door says that a Master Class is in progress. At a break in the music, we are invited in and spend 20 minutes watching as a group of 16 year old musicians and their conductor are tutored in some of the finer points of what is now medieval music.
On exiting the church, we continue back to our van via a local shop where we buy bread.
The viewing area for the Giant Chalk Man is a little way through the village. There is a parking area where we stop for lunch. Unfortunately the tranquility is broken by the local council crew who choose this time to mow the grass.
The origins and age of the chalk man are unknown. He is  60 metres high built on the face of a hill and depicted as a club wielding figure with a very prominent erection. Maybe he was just turned on by dangerous women. In Victorian times, fig leaves were added in the form of allowing grass to grow to avoid offending their sensibilities, however the vegetation has since been removed thus restoring his manhood. What remains of the figure is not hugely awe inspiring. However, we did enjoy our time in the village.
We need to reprovision and to get some cash. The village does not have a bank so we need to backtrack to Dorchester where we find  an autoteller and a Lidl. Although we would like to find a nice afternoon stop, we have learnt that parking places in picturesque settings are hard to come by. We can’t even park by the local cemetery as we do in France because church graveyards here don’t have car parks! The Lidl car park will have to do.
Next, off to our camp site for tonight. We have a GPS coordinate but it turns out to be incorrect. We will just have to wild camp tonight.   
Ro waves her magic wand and a delicious  braised beef and vegetable  dinner appears(how does she do that?). If the procession of huge tractors, walkers, bicycles and cars reduces, we will spend a pleasant night. And when I say huge tractors, these are so bit that ar Ro looks our the front window from our dinner table, all she can see is the rear wheel! The driver is well above that.
Remarkably (obviously) the tractors continue until 11 pm but I have a good night’s sleep. Ro is a bit on edge lest a tractor wipe off her sleeping area only metres from the road, but that does not happen.    

Thursday 12th June 2014 : New England , England

Another beautiful, cloudless sky. As we are wild camping we get going early. Unfortunately, early for us has become 9am. We are in mortal danger of lapsing into holiday mode.  We need to lift our game!
Montacute House which we wish to see is half an hour away so we will have breakfast there. The   house opens at 11 and the grounds at 10 so everything will be tickety boo (when in England speak as the English do).
Arriving at Montecute about 9.45, we park in a very pleasant carpark and have our breakfast. We are ready to go when the gardens and house open.  Showing our National Trust membership we pass through the reception area. We ask the non listening attendant about guided tours and she ignores our questions and directs us to where the tour does not depart. Fortunately a sign does direct us to the right area where a tour will leave in 10 minutes. Just time for a quick walk around.
The guide encourages us to get into an Elizabethan mind set. Apart from the sunglasses, mobile phones, shorts and tee shirts, we are there. The guide takes us around the gardens explaining Elizabethan etiquette and some of the changes which the property has undergone in its 400 year history.  Most changes are externally: to garden walls and entrances as main roads have altered. We visit one of the two porter’s houses which originally faced the now defunct main road.  Our guide talks a lot but does not impart much information.   
The house reminds us of  Bess’s pad, Hardwick Hall which we saw last year. In fact, later in our house tour we will see a portrait of Bess. This house has  three stories. On the ground floor we visit the great hall, drawing room, dining room and library. Some of these rooms have changed usage since Elizabethan times. All are cavernous and  cold  but retain some original panelling.  On the first floor are bedrooms and on the top floor is a long gallery which was used for indoor activities but now houses a national portrait gallery of Elizabethan persons, including that of Bess, Countess of Shrewsbury.
We leave Montacute to travel to the Golden Cap where we hope to go fossil hunting. The car park is National Trust land and the road leading to it is characteristically narrow but also very steep. The odd car we meet we must inch by in the manner to which we have become accustomed. However the steep road and the stop-start vehicle avoidance plays merry hell with our clutch and it smells and slips a bit. We don’t need too  much of this.
Finally we reach the top where we can park. There are walking tracks all along the coast here. Ro wants to look for fossils  but, at 3 or 400 feet up, we won’t find many here. The answer is to walk one of the tracks, hoping it will reach the sea. The day is quite hot and we have descended  some hundreds of feet before we realise the tracks are not going to reach  sea level.  The walk back is quite  tiring and we are pleased to reach the van. We decide this will be the place to camp. There are no signs prohibiting overnight stays so that is good enough for us. We position the van so we will have a magnificent view tomorrow morning. But tonight we have a magnificent full moon which casts a beautiful glow across the English Channel onto which we are looking.
Tonight, of all nights, will be a peaceful one.

Friday 13th June 2014 : Stonebarrow Hill , England

Another perfect day dawns with an equally perfect view. At first there are no other vehicles but soon dog walkers start to appear. One comments that we have had a fantastic view to awake to. We agree.
Breakfast is had overlooking that wonderful view. Britain is renowned for its misty depressing weather. Maybe we got off the ferry at the wrong country because the weather we have had has been perfect.
Braving the downward journey along the impossibly narrow road, we are pleasantly surprised to meet only one vehicle conveniently at a passing point. As it is a small car, we encourage it to go into the paddock entrance on our left. Somewhat reluctantly the driver does so and we pass with impunity. We assume the reluctance was because we were asking the driver to go on the wrong side of the road. This point is somewhat moot as there is only one side to the road and, in any case, people are allowed to park facing the wrong direction. Still all is good and we soon reach a real road.
We now want to visit the Jurassic Coast for a little fossil hunting. We don’t need a T-Rex rib or similar. In fact we don’t know what to look for and will probably  not be sure we have found anything anyway. But it is in the itinerary so  the die is cast,
There is a parking area at Charmouth where we can start our search. We have found in our travels that a group of people crowding around a parking meter means there is trouble.  So it is with this meter. One punter (an appropriate description) has fed the meter with 3 pounds and received nothing. A second punter  doesn’t want to feed the meter as the odds of a jackpot are lower than he requires. Do I raise you three pounds  and see or just write a note on the windscreen? I go for broke and feed in three pounds. The machine chatters and prints a ticket, much to the disgust of the first punter. But wait! The sneeky machine has printed two tickets so I give one to the punter and he is happy.
Now for some serious hunting. It soon becomes obvious that I should have brought my fossil hammer. Those in the know are breaking rocks and peering into the long ago past. There is dark gray clay which is constantly exposed by the sea with lighter clay and rocks embedded. Warnings on the beach noted that mud slides are common and that the 4 meter tide must be watched. Low tide is at 1pm so it is still falling and we are safe.
Ro sees a likely mud lump and requests me to smash it. Madam does not want to dirty her hands.  As the two halves fall apart, something which looks like a tooth is sticking out from one. Anywhere else and we would think it was just a rock, but here on the Jurassic coast this must be a Tragnethowantasaurus tooth, surely. Just in case, we won’t declare it as we leave the country.
Fortunately we have not been bitten by the bug so we can leave with only our maybe tooth fossil and another rock..er…fossil.
Lyme Regis is a  village just  along the coast which is mentioned in despatches. However the despatches did not tell us not to try to park our van there. Best we can do is stop by a recyclables bin to get rid of some rubbish.
But the day is so lovely, we decide to head for our campsite where we can veg out in the lovely sun.
We have a GPS coordinate and eventually arrive down the usual narrow lane at a house which isn’t a campsite. Ro  goes into a local tavern to ask directions, where she, as a non local, is scrutinized and given some directions . After a half hour of traipsing up and down narrow lanes , we finally end up a bit beyond where we had originally stopped.
The campsite is  a farm  with plenty of grass area for us to soak up the sun. However the early arrival is  a clever disguise for my real intent: to fit my stabilizer jack wombles.  To be fair to me ( I always like to be fair to me)  the jacks  are taking up important space so need to be fitted. I can borrow a battery drill and I have my trusty grinder.. The sunshine I had hoped to soak up is restricted to the soles of my feet as that is all that extends from under the van. But I now have nicely tanned soles of my feet.  Ro enjoys the sunshine, hopefully boosting her vitamin D levels which had been a bit low in Australia.
The half hour job is complete in just under 4 hours. There is a bit of evening sun which allows me a bit of reading relaxation
Our first night under stabilization is a bit of a failure as the jacks dig into the soft ground and we rock as much as without them. There is scope for improvement of the technology. Fortunately we were asleep so the lack of stabilization was not apparent.

Saturday 14th June 2014 : Cornwall East , England

Today we will visit Port Isaac, about 19 miles away. This little village was put on the map through   ‘Doc Martin’, a TV series about an irascible Doctor with less than zero patient skills, which we enjoy a great deal.
We have been advised to park in the top car park. This proves to be very sound advice as the roads are barely passable for Fiat Bambinos let alone our Escargot.
We need 4 pounds 70 for four hours or 3 pounds for three hours. But we only have 3 one pound coins. There is a number to call to use a credit card. I do that but after using 15% of my monthly call allowance without success give up and put in our 3 pounds. Three hours turns out to be about the right time anyway.
We walk down steep roads to the harbour which is familiar from the series. There are only a few buildings we recognise from the series but we are here for the village, not to see the buildings from the series. But  we are disappointed not to see the Doc, despite going to his surgery for an appointment.
The village has many tiny laneways which we explore  before going to an 18th century  pub for an authentic Cornish fish and chips lunch. The fish is fresh haddock and is delicious. Served with the fish is pea mash and a tartare  sauce which unfortunately is laced with garlic which spoils it.
Returning to the van via a coastal walk, we watch the huge seagulls enjoying the wind. We are back with 20 minutes to spare.
Next port of call is Tintagel, famous for the King Arthur legends and  about 9 miles away.  Although it is not a port.
Our first item is the old Tintagel Post Office. By old, they mean dating back to medieval times, although not a post office then. In fact we do not see any reference to when it was a post office, but it is an interesting building. The first interesting thing is how crooked the roof is. Inside we see why: the roof beams are rough hewn from tree branches with little effort to create straight beams.
The rooms are tiny and the main support beams and door jambs are suited to people of no more than 5’ 6” or 167cm.  There is a small staircase leading to a tiny bedroom and a mezzanine area which was for unmarried women to keep them safe from men (poor maligned creatures we are). Women beyond marrying age  were said to have been ‘left on the shelf’.
Some other rooms were also interesting, especially the upstairs roome where the structure of the roof could be seen. Outside was a delightful little garden with a well no longer in use.
We returned to the van to drive closer to our next  item, the Tintagel Castle. However we looked out over the ruined walls  and the long steep path to get there and decide we have seen enough castles to give this one a miss.
We are only about 10 miles from last night’s camp so we decide to return there as tomorrow we want to visit Stourhead about  120 miles away.
The weather is still superb so we can get a bit of late afternoon sun.  Except that the window blind needs fixing.

Sunday 15th June 2014 : Cornwall East , England

We are on the road by 8am. Today has a bit more cloud cover but is still not cold. Stourhead is a National Trust property with extensive gardens. Our thought is to arrive by 10.30 so we can perhaps visit Devisers  later in the afternoon to see 29 locks which elevate a canal over  72 meters.
Plans go awry when we arrive at 12 and discover it is really  a full days outing.
We start by looking at a group of walled gardens. The property land was acquired for 14,000 pounds in 1717, a rather staggering amount, and a house built shortly thereafter. The walled garden , along with the other structures, indicated that money was no object. Henry  Hoare was a banker so it seems nothing much has changed.   
From there we go to the house which is wonderful, based on a 16th century Venetian villa. The entrance hall looks through to a  beautiful symmetric staircase leading to the second floor to which we have no access. Across the stairwell we can hear a piano being played and the atmosphere it creates as a Bach piece is played  brings the house to life.
The ground floor is symmetrical either side of the entrance hall  with smaller rooms around and a large drawing room behind. There is a magnificent library to our left and on the other side a symmetrical  drawing room with numerous  painting adorning the 7 metre high walls.
Our tourist path takes us first to the library. Ancient books are shelved to within a few feet of the concave ceiling. At either end are paintings in the  arcs made where the ceiling meets the end walls. One seems to be painted on glass and lets in wonderful light through the painted scene. A large clock ticks appropriately. We  love this room.
Exiting the library we walk through smaller rooms all decorated in a very lived in manner. As we enter the  ornate drawing room we saw across the stairwell we see the piano from which Bach was  wafting. The piano is a Steinway and has a note on it proclaiming “Pianists Welcome”. Although Ro does not like public performances, I encourage her to play and to my delight she runs her hands up and down the keyboard. The piano is in quite good tune and she starts to play some of her favourite classical pieces. For quarter of  an hour or so she plays not only to my delight but also that of the attendant who says it has made her day. She invites Ro back any time  and reluctantly bids us farewell when we continue our tour of the house.
We visit more lovely rooms where  cakes and undrunk glasses of wine suggest that the family is still in residence.  The whole house is beautifully presented and is probably my favourite stately home.
From there we go to the Spreadeagle Inn  where we have a light lunch before visiting the extensive gardens. They are based around a large lake some 2 miles in circumference. There are various cottages, grottos and temples in various stages of restoration. The National Trust expect to spend 640,000 pounds in the next 2 years for upkeep and restoration.
Returning to our van, we contemplate our overnight accommodation. Fortunately, for 10 pounds, we can stay in the car park which is a grassy paddock with no other occupants. That is a good a place as any so we set up there for the night.
 
Monday 16th June 2014 : Stourhead , England

Leaving our very pleasant overnight site by 9am we travel to Bradford on Avon where we want to see the canal. Although we saw the Llangollen canal and Telford aqua duct  in Wales last year, canals and narrowboats hold a place in our hearts, as do most types of boats and waterways.
At Bradford we remove our bikes and ride along the canal to the   Rennie designed Aqua duct which crosses the Avon. It is less spectacular than the Telford one  and has quite a dip in the stone work. But it is spectacular none the less. Riding along the canal, saying ‘Good Morning’ to fellow cyclists, walkers and canal boaties is very enjoyable. Some of the British street protocol, which requires one to avert ones gaze lest one interact with fellow humans, is missing here and the interaction is enjoyable, especially for us  for whom such street interaction is the norm in Australia.
Returning to the canal port, we enquire about hire of narrow boats and get to look aboard a 12 berth 60 foot narrow boat. It is remarkable how much can be fitted into a boat less than 6 feet wide. I would love to spend a week on a boat such as this with our bicycles on board to explore villages we pass. However Ro is less keen, preferring a houseboat on Eildon in Australia. Admittedly, the two experiences are miles apart in concept as much as distance.
Continuing our water theme, we want to see the set of 29 locks at  Caen Hill. We walk past 19 or 20 of the locks and marvel at the engineering fete of the time. Each lock has a set of double doors operated manually by a 4 metre long lever. To traverse the full set in a narrow boat takes 4 to 5 hours as each lock is in turn filled or drained of water to allow the up stream or downstream doors to be opened.
Near the top of the set we stop at an old lockmaster’s hut which now serves various meals. We opt for Cornish pasties.
Back at the van, we set Thomasina for Oxford. There is a camp site opposite a Park ‘N Ride  station where we can overnight before exploring Oxford tomorrow.
The site is a Caravan Club site. Members pay 19 pounds and non members pay 25 pounds . This is the most expensive site we have stayed at with the least facilities. We don’t even get electricity for our 25 pounds. But the showers are good and it is quiet.

Tuesday 17th June 2014 : Oxford , England

So quiet we sleep until 9. The park ‘n’ ride is opposite and there is an area for motorhomes. We are on a double decker bus by 11 and in 10 minutes are in the city.
We immediately like the place. It has a nicer feel to it than did Cambridge last year. Bicycles abound, many ridden by black robed students. It would be a wonderful place for an academic life.
Walking up Broad St we visit the Museum of the History of Science where we see  hundreds of beautifully made instruments from previous centuries. They were designed to be as much things of artistic beauty as functional. Over three floors we are treated to science history going back to before Galileo  in many different disciplines. Our only complaint is that the sign “Beware Uneven Stairs” is placed where reading the notice causes one to trip on the uneven stairs. Perhaps placed by a mad professor.
Around the corner is the Bodleian Library which we can view  from the courtyard but not inside.  Next to this is the circular Radcliffe Camera (colloquial Latin for room) built in the mid 1700s as a library but now a reading room. Once again we can look externally but not internally.
We want to see one of the colleges and Magdalin College (pronounced Maud Lin) is said to be the pick of the bunch (to use an excessively plebeian term)
The buildings and grounds are superb and beautifully kept. The well mown lawns have squares which make them look like chess boards. Some students are playing croquet  next to the “Keep off the Grass” signs. But we think the croquet is encouraged.
There is a large area with a path called Addison’s walk, named in honour of an English essayist who is attributed with having created the notion of English politeness. Whether it is a celebration or an admonishment is unclear. We walk around the 2 km circuit as punters traverse the waterway which follows outside the path.
The Old Kitchen supplies food to students and visitors at a slight premium. We have a delicious soup and bread rolls sitting outside by the water watching the antics of unskilled punters. We remember from  our experience of punting at Cambridge last year that there is some skill required.
Ro is feeling a little homesick and a friend of our son is currently working in Oxford. Perhaps we can visit him and his family. A bit of googling, a telephone call or two and she is in contact with him. They live within walking distance and we are invited for an impromptu dinner.
Arriving at 5.30pm we are just in time to interrupt the evening routine for their two sons, aged  2 ½ and 1. Ro sitting next to the 1 year old is liberally smeared with pizza. I, on the other side of the table,  manage to escape.  After bath time (them not us) we spend  a very enjoyable evening catching up. By the end of the evening some of  Ro’s home sickness is alleviated.
Santa drives us back to the van where, following our farewells, we decide we will travel for an hour toward Buxton, tomorrow’s first destination. Choosing motorways because it is now dark, we enjoy the relatively little traffic.
There is a service centre where  parking is available just off the motorway. We stop in an appropriate area however the battery is rather low which will compromise our showers. I start the engine expecting that will charge the battery. However the house battery does not charge with the engine, although it should. Another thing to attend to. Notwithstanding, we have warm showers and get to bed by 12.

Wednesday 18th June 2014 : Some Bloody Motorway , England

Unfortunately truck movements early in the morning means we are awake by 5 having had insufficient rest.
The noise convinces us to get an early start and have breakfast on the way. The breakfast stop turns out to be the side of a busy motorway where digestion is aided by the constant rocking of the van as trucks speed past. Not ideal.
By 9am we are both feeling tired so we stop well off the road for a quick catchup nap. Continuing, we arrive at Buxton by midday having taken non motorway roads through beautiful green rolling hills. Many say this is the most beautiful  region of England.  We would not disagree.
The town is an absolute gem. It is a spa town similar to Bath and it is the similarity which has inspired Ro to include it in her itinerary.  A very good choice as it is not overrun with tourists.
Buxton is a cultured town with excellent architectural heritage. It is well kept and tidy. We park  near the Pavilion Gardens which are quite extensive, well manicured and have many walking trails. The pavilion to which the name refers is an extensive building of wrought iron. In the 1800s   natural spas were within the building  which also provided massage and other health augmentation. We walk through the end of the building which is a conservatory.
Around the corner is a small opera house. We can go into the foyer to view the wonderful ceiling. The box offices are still original. The front porch has notices in stained glass. We would love to see inside but that is only available during performances.
Walking further into the town’s main street we stroll along a pedestrian mall with quaint buildings either side, many of them ,unfortunately, occupied by op shops and 2 pound shops. However the ambiance is not damaged as townspeople go about their business. At the end of the main street is a railway viaduct which towers over the town but is quite aesthetic. It is no longer used but it must have been met with awe in its time. I still look in amazement at the engineering skills required to build it.
On our return we come across the Crescent Hotel, a once grand hotel built in a semi circular. It is an English Heritage property but is awaiting refurbishment. There are photographs of its original elegance and recent degradation.   The refurbishment  will consume a lot of money but the end result will be stunning. It is like a small version of the semi circular residential complex in Bath.
Further on is the BoardWalk which runs past the park and has elegant georgian terrace houses with two storey bay windows. They look wonderful and in excellent repair.
We would like to return to Buxton as there is a lot to see. But for now we want to continue toward Beatrix Potter country. We will stay near Preston, half way to Hawkeshead, the village associated with B.P.
An hour later and we are where our campsite should be. As has become the norm, it is not quite where it is purported to be. During our search, we go down a bumpy dirt road. There is a grassy verge which looks less bumpy. Unfortunately  the reason it is less bumpy is because the grass covers a ditch. Two wheels fall in and the van lurches to one side scraping and grinding until it frees itself from the ditch.  A quick inspection reveals a cracked outside light lens but nothing else.  Eventually we find the camp site but it is locked.
We had noticed another site so we head for that. But it is being refurbished and is not open. However after we say we are self contained, the owner agrees to us staying there the night for 10 pounds, including electricity. That will do.
I lower the newly fitted left hand jack then go to lower the right hand jack. It is not there. Part of the grinding in the ditch was the jack parting company! We return and search, eventually finding it  buried in the embankment next to the ditch. Fortunately a quick repair and it is OK again.

Thursday 19th June 2014 : Preston , England

Our camp site has dumping and filling facilities so we dump and fill and vacuum then get on the road toward BP country.
First we want to see the only operating  bobbin making factory in the world which operated commercially from 1835 to 1971. All the roads are again narrow and we spend 4 or 5 minutes at one point where a logging truck and a bus  inch past one another. Further along we meet a truck where we cannot pass and for the first time, one of us has to reverse to a passing point. Fortunately the truck is closer so he does the reversing.
The mill has equipment from the full period of operation. We are given a demonstration of the wood turning equipment powered by overhead flat belt pulleys. They were originally powered by water, then by steam and finally from the 1940s by electric motors. The atmosphere is very evocative. While  the guide waxes lyrical about how old it all is, I recognise a lot of items as being in use when I was a child. Still, it saves me having to prove my entitlement to a seniors discount.
We leave for Hawkeshead, arriving at 1.20. It is the quintessential  Lakeland village, Cars are not allowed in the main area and this adds to the ambience. The weather is perfect, too.
We go to the Beatrix Potter gallery which was a solicitor’s office until the 1980s. In fact Bea’s husband whom she married when she was 42, was the solicitor practising there.
The rooms are tiny and low and uneven. The solicitor must have been very tidy or had very few matters. In each room there are items or drawings belonging to or executed by B. P. Although the National Trust has 400 original drawings, they only display 10 at a time in rotation to preserve them.
Beatrix was an excellent artist. Many of her earlier works were of botanical species, fungi in particular. They were of such detail that the Royal Society would have published them but for the fact she was a woman! Science was still a highly patriarchal institution then; rather like today but a bit worse. It was following that rejection she turned to her story telling in pictures and words which as history reminds us,  was a successful enough pursuit  for her to thumb her nose at the Royal Society. This is despite the fact that the first publisher she approached rejected her book. Big mistake. Instead she published it herself. The wealth that followed   actually allowed her  to make a more significant mark on the environment  through her purchase of property in the lakes district. This enabled her to  stifle development of the area which she deplored. Other testaments to her abilities include development of the Herdwick breed of sheep. She has been  the only female president of the sheep breeders association.  
We have decided to stay in the area overnight so as to visit BP’s house tomorrow. There is a National Trust campsite nearby so we will stay there.
After more stone fenced or hedge lined extremely narrow lanes we arrive at the site. However, the camp site is either fully booked or does not take motorhomes. The attendant is new and we are not sure which it is.
There is an external carpark and the attendant does not know whether we can or cannot stay there. In the absence of anyone kicking us out, that will do us.
Lake Windemere, England’s largest lake, is 100 metres away so we walk and gaze over the waterway to the more developed opposite bank. We are happy with the less developed side.
It is surprising how tiring it is driving along the hedge lined narrow roads, especially with a left hand drive vehicle, so an early night is enjoyed in this peaceful area; falling asleep to the bleating of sheep. Saves having to count them.

Friday 20th June 2014 : Hawkeshead , England

After another walk to the lake side, we depart by 8.30 hoping to avoid vehicles coming into the camp site. A large number of tents has been packed away and put into barrels as those visitors have canoed into the camp site. Other than those, who don’t concern us, there are no other cars leaving or entering so we return to Hawkeshead without incident.
We are visiting Hill Top, Beatrix’s holiday house close to Hawkeshead. Unfortunately the house is closed on Fridays for conservation cleaning and we kick ourselves that we did not visit the house yesterday afternoon and the gallery today. The gardens are still open and the one advantage of the house being closed is that garden is fairly empty. The house and garden slightly remind us of  Monet’s  property at Giverny. Both have a sense of serenity, although Monet’s house and garden are undoubtedly more extensive and sophisticated in a nice sense.  
By 1.30 we are ready to travel to Carlisle, near the Scottish boarder were we have organised a place at a camp site. As usual, Thomasina delivers us tantalisingly close to the gate but with just enough unknowns to challenge us. Fortunately we are met by a resident who ushers us in. We will stay here a day or two for a little R&R; repairs and refitting in our context.
We had stopped at a pub or two for a late lunch intended as an early dinner. However we were between lunch end and dinner start so instead have some rolls  at our camp site and a delicious dinner of lamb a little later from Chez Rosemarie.

Saturday 21st  June 2014 : Carlisle : England

The day dawns cloudy but the clouds rapidly part to a beautifully sunny day.
Between reading, some wasted time checking some wiring, fitting of a new drinking water container which subsequently leaks  and a few odds and ends, we have a relaxing day. There is a pool but it is billed as having cold water and this is an understatement.
We plan our forward itinerary and think an extra day here may fit in. Rest days are important.
Around 8.30 there is a wood fired sauna going. The evening  is sufficiently cool by now for the sauna  to be very enjoyable.  In the sauna is a Scotsman talking about midges. I comment that they are Scotland’s best kept secret. He says that is not true in Scotland and warns us that we will encounter them  as we go north in July, particularly in pine forests and similarly cold dark places. The best repellent is a product called “Skin-so-soft”. Presumably  midges are tough little Scots who only like tough skin.
Emerging from the sauna, it still seems strange that it is still bright daylight and will be light until after 10 pm.
Another night of peaceful bliss coming up.

Sunday 22nd  June 2014 : Carlisle ,  England

As the day looks like being another beautiful one, we decide to stay another day and night.
One of the members here has a keyboard so Ro plays  while  I chat to Ron and Elizabeth. Ron has been playing  keyboard chords for four years and, having listened to Ro play for 15 minutes, declares she is nearly as good as he is.
The rest of the morning is spent reading  in the sunshine.  By mid afternoon I need an R & R fix after yesterday’s rather abortive efforts.
The plan is to fit an additional duct to the heater. Just as one can make it rain by washing the car, so I believe I can make Scotland  warm by putting effort  into improving the heater which we won’t need.
I need a  hole saw so visit our neighbour expecting that any camper worth his salt will have a 60mm hole saw.  He does have one, except the arbore which fits it to the drill is missing. No problem: a coach bolt and some washers in the outside locker will fix that. In addition to the extra duct outlet, the power point can also be moved so life is generally made easier.  So I dare you, Scotland, to throw some bad weather at us.
Ro prepares another delicious dinner then we retire to bed to read some more until tiredness overcomes us.

Monday 23rd  June 2014 : Carlisle ,  England

Today we actually enter Scotland!  It has taken a year for us to get here. Hooray! A few dumping and filling chores and we are away.
Setting Thomasina as usual to ‘Avoid Motorways’ we are taken along the familiar back roads, one of which follows the motorway for 3 kilometers. I hate a wiseguy GPS.
I want to get a relay to cure the lack of house battery charging problem so I have set the destination to Fred’s Automotive Parts in Dumfries, about 45 minutes away. When we reach Fred’s, Fred has moved. Entering another auto parts shop, we are guided toward that. On the way we pass a Lidl and are tempted to buy some provisions. At the checkout, a Scottish lady asks if I am South African. No, Australian, says I. “Oh then you must be used to this heat” says she. Heat? It is about 18 degrees in the full sun! Lady, tell me when it hits 40 then we will discuss heat. Unable to cope with the thought of 40 degrees,  she  faints and I can step over her wilted body to proceed to the cashier.
Back at the van, we continue to the area of the auto shop and after a bit of searching  purchase the required relay. Opposite is a quiet park at which we stop for morning tea. And apart from  the goods train, it stays quiet. There in one word you have embodied the advantage of morning tea in a cemetery carpark. Or is that disembodied.
Now on to Kirkcudbright (pronounced Kirkcoobree) where we want to see Broughton House, the home of painter E.A. Hornel, of whom we have not  heard.
He purchased the  house in 1906 and had a studio and gallery added. Both are wonderful. His paintings we find somewhat repetitive and only a few of them appeal.  Outside there is a magnificent garden in the English formal tradition which Hornel worked on for over 30 years.  It is a kaleidoscope of colour with a huge range of species and a lovely hot house, rebuilt after fierce winds  in 1998 blew it over. There are many narrow meandering paths bordered with low yellow hedges
By 4 we are ready to find our camp site. We have chosen a site about 3 miles away and find it with only a wrong turn or two. We talk to the site owners about gardening and other topics for an hour over a welcoming cup of tea  before retiring to our motorhome. The clouds have parted and there is a bright blue sky with a chilly breeze. We wonder what weather  Scotland has in store for us.   

Tuesday 24th  June 2014 : Kirkcudbright , Scotland

Once the cows  have stopped protesting the presence of our van, the night is quiet. The morning dawns cloudy with a coolish breeze but still no need for our heater.
We have been advised to see the most southerly point of Scotland, Mull of Galloway. We drive through rolling hills, noting the lower population density and the smaller roads. We see a lot of motorhomes…… all leaving Scotland. Admittedly we may be in a stream of motorhomes entering Scotland which we cannot see from our place in the possible queue.
We call into the Logan Botanical Gardens but decide that, just as one can be castled out, one can also be gardened out and at this point we are feeling that. The feeling is not helped by number 1 billing on the list of exotic gardens which is Australasian plants. We have seen some of those in our time.
So we continue onto the mull (peninsula).  When we are about 4 miles from the mull the excuse for a road becomes a one lane track, signposted as such, with passing points. At least there are no hedges  and many straight sections of track so we can see approaching vehicles from some distance and the passing points can be used to good effect.
The mull is a craggy outcrop of rock with a lighthouse and café. We walk to the edge of Scotland, thankful that the breeze is light. It would be a long way to fall to the rocks. Further along the cliff, we can look down on birds skylarking in the updrafts.  
By 3pm we are ready to leave . However we have a 1 hour 40 minute drive to Culzean (pronounced Kullane )Castle and gardens and it will be closed before we arrive. We will drive toward our destination to get an early start tomorrow (a first if we do so).
The drive once we leave the peninsula is a coastal road in full view of the sea and billed as one of the best in UK. We enjoy it but are amazed by the number of semi trailers. This is probably due to a number of ferry terminals along the way which had dozens of other semis waiting to load, presumably for Irish destinations.
Arriving at the castle, there is no place to stay overnight so we backtrack until we find a parking area not too close to the roadside. There are some trucks  parked so this will do us. Besides, I have had enough driving and almost anywhere will do tonight.

Wednesday 25th  June 2014 :Maybole ,Scotland

There has been a bit of rain during the night and that sets the tone for the rest of the day. We are in a position where trucks arriving can block us in. We had thought that the trucks would all have left before we were ready to leave, but more are arriving so we need to leave while we can. We will have breakfast at Culzean Castle which does not open until 10.30am.
Arriving at the entrance at 8.30, we feed two pounds into the ticket machine. We are National Trust members and probably don’t need to pay but they have a notice stating that all parking money goes to help the trust so we are happy to support them.
But it seems the machine does not want our money, returning each of the  10 20p pieces we feed it. Maybe we are too early to park. However there is no barrier so we enter.
As we drive along the one mile meandering road, we get an idea of the scale of the place. Eventually we reach  the Walled Garden car park where we have our breakfast before exploring the garden which is already open.
The sky is overcast, there is a damp mist in the air and it is a little chilly. We have ski parkas which we wear. A month or two earlier we may have required  Antarctic clothing.
The walled gardens are extensive with long rows of greenhouses containing vines and fruit trees. The walls are probably 5 metres tall and must contain 100s of thousands of bricks.  All the castles vegetable and fruit requirements were grown here.
From there we walk 10 minutes to the castle which is not open yet. There are a few other buildings to look at as the castle and associated buildings are sprawling.
There has been a castle on the site since medieval times but it has been modified extensively over the centuries.  The most significant modifications  to the castle were started in the late 1700s, but  not quite complete before the  renowned designer, Robert Adam, died in the late 1700s. His trademark, a rams head, is liberally  spread throughout the decorations.
When the doors open, we are told that a tour will leave in 15 minutes or so. We have a little  time to explore by ourselves.
The first room is an armaments room. While looking at weaponry does not interest us much, the way the hundreds of flintlock pistols and sabres are displayed is very artistic and worth viewing. The individual items are themselves works of art with their beautiful engraving. Mind you, if you are on the receiving end, the beauty or otherwise is probably of little concern. At least the accuracy gave opponents a sporting chance. The likelihood of an injury from a flintlock was about 1 in 6 and death was about 1 in 14.
Looking briefly at the next two rooms, we return for our tour. Our guide, Ronnie, is quite loquacious and we hear in great detail  about this marquis or that earl. However, Ro loves a Scottish accent, when comprehensible,  so the loquaciousness is tolerable. The rooms we visit are the usual mix of overstuffed,  sterile wealth flaunting mausoleums, although the drawing room has been nicely altered. The 2 metre thick walls have been scalloped out either end to make an attractive oval room. But there is another oval structure we are keen to see.  
One of the reasons we wanted to see this castle was for the Robert Adam designed oval stairwell and staircase. After the dining room, we emerge into the stairwell and it by itself is worth the visit. The oval stairwell extends  through the first and second floors  and finishes in an oval arched ceiling with a smaller oval glassed opening for light. The oval stairs rise symmetrically to the first floor but do not continue to the second floor, which instead has a balustrade around the oval opening. The effect is quite stunning. A red patterned carpet offsets the white surroundings.
On the first floor we walk through bedrooms and  small washrooms, somewhat of an anticlimax after the wonderful staircase. Walking down the staircase again we continue on to the kitchen  to see how the minions lived.  The kitchen used to be a tearoom but in the 1980s the TV series “Upstairs Downstairs” generated interest in the servants lives so the kitchen was rebuilt to reflect the late 1800s. Anything which is recreated adopts a particular time as the building has seen many ages so what constitutes ‘original’ is very time dependant.
While we have been in the castle, the mist has turned to light rain. We walk 10 minutes to the visitor centre where there is a restaurant. It is a warm, pleasant barn like room and it is nice to rest our backs, tired from standing while our guide waxed lyrical over a little too much Scottish history.
Walking back toward the castle, we visit the gas generation plant. Lighting in the castle was from coal gas generated and stored in the gas house. A steel dome supported on counterweighted pulleys rested downward in a large water filled well , perhaps 5 meter in diameter.  As gas was generated it was pumped into the dome  which rose and lowered drawn off as required.  
From there we walk 20 minutes to a Swan Pond which is really a Swan Lake, covering 5 hectares.  This is in fact our swan song and we trudge wearily back to the van in the now moderate rain.
We are ready to move on to Glasgow. Within the hour we are plunged into the familiar outskirts of a big city.  Wild campsites are far more prevalent than in England but city campsites are hard to find. Fortunately we happen across a golf course where we can park without being in anyone’s way. After observation of a few female dog walkers we decide the area seems safe enough so prepare for the night. Even at 9.30, there are still people playing golf on the course which does not appear to have barriers preventing anyone playing.
It proves to be a reasonably quiet campsite.    

Thursday 26th  June 2014 :Glasgow  , Scotland

Although cloudy, the mist and rain are absent We have breakfast at our campsite then head for the Burrell Collection, about 3 miles away.
The car park is empty which makes parking easy. The pay and display fee is one pound for the day; very reasonable compared with English P & D prices. However the machine does not like our coins, instead sending them  into the reject chute which one of the local lads has modified with an aluminium addition. With a little fiddling, I persuade the machine to give me the coins and use another machine.
William Burrell was a rich industrialist who collected 9000 odd objects in his lifetime. In 1944  he donated  the collection to Glasgow. In 1984 the city built a wonderful building to house the collection.
Being inside the building has been described as looking out of a glass house. There is abundant light coloured timber and glass with lots of rough stone tiles on the floors. It is quite warm so we need to remove jumpers to keep comfortable. Experiencing the building is as enjoyable as experiencing the collection.
We go on another tour with Bob, a Scotsman with a gentle and understandable Scots accent. His presentation is very entertaining and informative. When I thank him at the end for his entertaining commentary, he quips that it was meant to be intellectual. It was that also.
Burrell started collecting when he was 18 years old. He went to work in the family shipping business at 15. It was his income from  the business which financed his collecting. His favourite items were tapestries, of which there are hundreds, and stained glass. However there are substantial collections of paintings, chinese artefacts  from the various dynasties, Egyptian relics and stone doors and windows from UK castles. It is an eclectic collection. Certainly worth the visit.
The café serves hot reasonably priced meals so we eat there which will minimize the requirement for dinner.
Next is the Huntarian museum and Kelvingrove  art gallery. Driving into Glasgow, we find a back street in which to park. Parking here is a haphazard affair: two cars in the middle of a roundabout, one sticking out into the road…that sort of thing. So our two wheels on the footpath is no big deal. We check with the postman that anyone can park here and he says we can.
The Huntarian is a bit elusive. Its address seems to be the same as the Kelvingrove but also the same as Glasgow University. The signs seem a bit confusing also. Entering the university we discover that the Huntarian museum and gallery are part of the university, housed in a huge early 19th century (we guess) building  Having discovered its whereabouts, we decide it is too late to see both it and the Kelvingrove so instead ask directions to the latter, which is only 100 metres away. However the people we ask fail to mention the sizable stream between us and our target, which we know from the map is there. To complicate matters, the bridge we decide we need to cross is closed to all traffic. Finally a lady directs us to a wee bridge and using it and a circuitous route, we arrive at our destination, 100 metre away, after a walk of about a mile. As they say “no pain, no gain”.
The Kelvingrove is a large building built in the late 19th century with profits from the Glasgow World Exhibition a few years earlier. Glasgow at times in her past has been a wealthy city. It is only relatively recently that she has felt economic hardship. This building reflects the glory years.
We spend a few hours looking at some of the Glasgow boys works (EA Hornel being one of them) the impressionists and assorted other Scottish artists’ works. Also the Dahli work “Christ of St John of the Cross” which was controversially purchased by the Glasgow trustees one year after its painting but which now attracts huge audiences.  
Returning to our van, we think we will quit the big smoke and continue on. But first we will drive through the city centre. After a very enjoyable half an hour of sitting in Glasgow queues of traffic, we have seen enough and happily head out of town.
As we clear Glasgow, heavy traffic gives way to progressively fewer vehicles and  high rise apartments decrease in frequency until they are replaced by rural scenes.
We are heading toward the highlands via Loch Lomond and Trossachs national park. Hoping to find a quiet campsite, we are soon rewarded with a road which runs by the shores of the loch. Although the motorway is only 100 metre away, there are trees which we hope will damp the sound.
Where we park, we are 5 metres from the shore. From our dining table we look across the loch to an island perhaps a kilometre  meter off shore. It seems fitting to put on our Enya CD and we enjoy her melodic tones as we gaze across to the slightly misty mountains across the loch. Apart from clouds shrouding the far mountains, the sky is blue and cloudless. This is  fairy tale material.

Friday 27th  June 2014 :Loch Lomond  , Scotland

This morning the sky is overcast and the wind is chilly but the day looks like it will be dry. We walk along the shore some distance past a lovely B&B before returning for breakfast.
Our sights are set on Oban where we will take a ferry to Isle of Mull. Ro thinks she may have long lost relatives there but does not intend going much out of her way to find them.
We drive through beautiful valleys and by huge lochs. After an hour and a half we reach Oban which is rather more crowded than we expected. Tomasina takes us to a the ferry port where we buy a return trip with the van for 120 pounds. It is valid for 5 days and our ferry to Mull leaves at 4, in 2 hours.
We have time to go to Lidl where we can provision up for our time on Mull which may not have a lot in the way of shops. The map we see shows only one road running around the circumference of the island. It turns out that, as has happened before, road is a rather grandiose term for the pathway.
Last night while enjoying Enya, she gradually started popping and clicking in a most non Enya like fashion. We are hoping that it is just a dirty laser and hope we can buy a cleaner. Unfortunately we try three different  shops and don’t find anything. Looks like Enya will remain a pop diva for the time being.
Waiting in the ferry queue we have some rolls for lunch before boarding. We are used to ferry drill by now. They load very quickly and by the time we get out of the van, we are on our way.
The crossing takes 45  minutes, not because Mull is very far away but because we land some distance up the coast. Leaving the ferry, we randomly choose to go left to Fionnphort, 38 miles away.
Within half a mile we are met with a sign “Single Track with Passing Bays” which we saw at Mull of Galloway. However where that was  2 miles, this track is 38 miles! Once again the tracks have fairly good visibility so we can drive along at 40 or 50 mph. When a vehicle approaches in the opposite direction, an unsignalled  negotiation takes place and one vehicle gives way by sheltering in a passing bay. It seems to work fairly well.
Along the way we stop for some coffee in a gully between two towering hills. As we are about to leave, a large bus is travelling in our direction and I wait for it to pass, dreading following it for 25 miles. However it soon transpires that it is a perfect chaperon. Approaching vehicles give way because of its size, the driver knows the roads well and, because of that, he travels at a good speed. By keeping close to the bus, we get the benefit of the subservience of oncoming vehicles and we cover the 25 miles at a rapid rate.
At Fionnphort, we quickly  discover there is little there except the ferry to Iona. There are “No Camping” signs in abundance but there is one camping farm. The price is 14 pounds for the night which is very reasonable and the view we have to the sea is lovely. This will do us for tonight.   

Saturday 28th  June 2014 : Fionnphort, Isle of Mull  , Scotland

The night is very quiet . About 11 pm we wander over for a shower. Wander may not be the correct word. Hike is probably more appropriate. The shower and toilet block is 300 metres away, but the hike is worth it. They are well appointed and the showers are hot, although the press button timer needs repressing every 20 seconds. But we are used to that.
We are camped  up on an embankment with views of a grassy plane broken by large rocky outcrops on one side and the sea also with large rocky outcrops and mountainous islands out to sea on the other. The view and surroundings are so pleasant that we think we will stay another night. The site is a working sheep farm and the sheep wander amongst the campervans and tents providing fertilizer where fertilizer is not required. Despite their ubiquitous droppings, the sheep keep their distance whenever we make our presence known. We are 30 meters from the sea water and there are many rocky outcrops  on which grow tasty grasses which the sheep keep mown like a lawn. Standing on the rocks observing  us and eating the grass, the sheep are a memorable sight. They may well be part mountain goat.
Over by the farm house is a pen with two sheepdog puppies, probably 2 or 3 months old. They jump about, excited about some attention. Their mother comes to introduce herself in a very friendly fashion but maybe to let us know  she is watching. Earlier I had been witness to a little sheep herding by the dogs as the farmer separated a small flock from a larger flock in a yard. He explained that there are two breeds and the separated ones are to be shown at an agricultural show in August.
This morning the sky is blue and a warm orange ball is evident high above us. We ask some locals whether they recognise it  but they have not seen that sight before and rush to google the phenomenon. Lying on the sand sheltering behind the rocks out of the cold wind, and enjoying the sun we are reminded of home….somewhat.
We pass the day with a few repairs, some reading, some writing and generally mooching about. Mooching about on the Isle of Mull in the sunshine surrounded by beautiful scenery is not such a bad way to spend the day.
By the afternoon the wind has increased and the sun decreased. However it is still enjoyable being in the warm van as the wind whistles outside. We are grateful for the panoramic windows of the van which allow us to watch the  sea as the tide comes in.
Tomorrow we will explore the rest of the island. Our ferry booking for 5pm tomorrow night we will need to postpone to Monday or Tuesday. Once again we observe, as we have before, that we like island life.

Sunday 29th  June 2014 : Fionnphort, Isle of Mull  , Scotland.

Another beautiful morning in a beautiful location. It is so lovely we consider staying another day. But we have already seen that there are many beautiful locations on Mull. So today we will head over to Tobermory, Mull’s biggest town with 800 or so people.
The tourist maps only show one road on Mull which runs around the island in a C. A large part of that road is a single track as previously mentioned. But there are a few others, one of which is labelled the ‘scenic’ road to Salen.  We have to backtrack along the single track road before turning off to the ‘scenic’ route.
There is absolutely no doubt that the route is scenic. It is truly desolate with only the occasional  building. There are very few trees but plenty of cows and sheep and the odd vehicle which we negotiate to pass at appropriate points.
The reason there is only the odd vehicle is probably that travelling on the narrow bitumen track is not unlike travelling in a boat on choppy water. Evidence of the narrowness comes in the form of deep tyre ruts either side periodically where vehicles have fallen off. At other points, black tyre marks evidence failure of a passing negotiation. It is quite tiring watching the track edges and for oncoming cars, sometimes on crests or blind corners. I am looking forward to seeing Ro’s photos to see how beautiful it really is because I have seen very little of it.
Leaving Salen, we reach, of all things, a two way road. This is heaven. But the scenery which I can now watch is less spectacular. Nevertheless soon we are driving along coast roads past beautiful inlets with rugged mountains on the far side and this is spectacular.
The end of the road is Tobermory which we see from the vantage point of a very steep entry road. The foreshore buildings are painted in vibrant colours reminiscent of  Burano  near Venice. We get some fresh fish from a fish and chip van which gets its produce directly from the fishing boats and the haddock and sea bass we have are both delicious.
We walk around the area for an hour or so then make tracks back to our desolate road where we want to camp. After climbing the steep hill in first gear, we see a road to Calgory from which the Canadian city takes its name. It is 12 miles away and by the time we arrive at a beautiful bay just before Calgory, I have had enough of the concentration required on these roads.
The carpark  has signs which may or may not prohibit camping. We stop for a drink and I have a nap. On awaking, another van has set up for the night. But we rather have our hearts set on the desolate road so we start back to Tobermory. Along the way we see another road to Salen which we take, expecting it will intersect the desolate road we want. Unfortunately we miss the turnoff as the destination sign is not what we expect to see  and it is half an hour before we are back where we want to be.
Travelling further along the road, we come across a grassy flatish area  which we are happy to call home for tonight. Just us, the sheep, the cows and one other camping couple nearby who had the same idea.  But they are far enough away for the isolation to be unspoilt.

Monday 30th  June 2014 : B8035 between Salen and Givan, Isle of Mull  , Scotland

This would have to be our best camp site ever. Sounds a bit like the closing address to the Olympics. This morning the silence is deafening. During the night we heard the odd ‘moo’ and ‘baa’ but this morning there is no wind, no animal noises and, outside the van, only the slight murmer from the stream which trickles by. We will leave soon but the canpers nearby  will remain. I rather envy them.
After breakfast we leave for Bunesson to do some rele  hunting. MacDougals are in our sights and we have been told the island is lousy with them.
Backtracking along the Scenic Route, we are transfixed by the  beauty. Above us is Ben More at 966 metres. In the direction we are travelling is a craggy mountain with a huge rocky escarpment. The road follows the sea for some miles then climbs up the side of a mountain with just an Armco barrier between us and oblivion. Not too long ago there would only have been a dry stone wall for protection. It is a truly memorable drive.
At Bunesson we ask directions to the historical centre where we hope to get some information. We find the little mill keepers house and ask about genealogical records. They have plenty but the information we have is scant and the records they have do not help us much. The museum at Tobermory has records of the whole island but it was closed yesterday when we were there. We should, in fact, have gone back there instead of to Bunesson. To make matters worse, the historical display does not mention one Mcougal! Lousey with them my hat!  The distance to Tobermory would have also have been less. But we would have missed seeing the delightful scenic route again.
It is morning tea time again so we search for a place with a view. Settling for an elevated patch of grass overlooking the sea, we enjoy coffee and some cooked raisin toast before  heading back toward Craignure with the hope of catching the 3 pm ferry rather than the 5pm one on which we are booked.
This single lane track is somewhat wider and far less bumpy. I have a small car following and pull over to let it pass as it may be faster than me. However my reasons are not entirely altruistic. As with the bus, although with less presence, the car, which it becomes evident is a local, moves at a goodly rate and by keeping close, I don’t have to worry about watching the oncoming traffic; just the tail lights of the little car. Later I do the same with a delivery van but, in that case, I can’t keep up with the boy racer, instead seeing him disappear off into the distance ay 60 miles per hour or so.
At the ferry terminal we are told we can wait in the standby queue but are not guaranteed a crossing at 3pm. We have lunch in the queue and by 2.45 it seems likely we will get on the 3 pm boat.
No problems! There is even room for a tanker behind us. And we are even the first line to disembark at Oban! How good is that?  
First port of call after the Oban port is Tesco where we need to top up our phone, although the appalling internet reception in Scotland makes us wonder whether to bother. But we do. Then on to Glencoe which is getting into the highlands.
Densely wooded mountains tower above us as we approach Glencoe. We start driving around Loch Leven in the hope of finding a spot overlooking the loch. Instead we climb steeply and look down hundreds of feet to the loch.
It transpires that the road encircles the long narrow loch, eventually returning to Glencoe. At the far end we come to a delightful village called Kinlochleven where we find a pub with wifi and dinner. We have a lengthy and  interesting chat with an English couple about matters environmental. They are in Scotland from London for dental work and hiking. Must be some dentist.
Continuing along the road we find a parking area with a view of the loch to die for. If death is in fact the cost, it will be via tiny insects which swarm in large numbers and which we think are the dreaded midges.
We will stay indoors until the morning just in case.

Tuesday 1st  July 2014 : Kinlochleven  , Scotland

I understand that the Inuits have  something like 100 different works for ice. Scotland could do with 100 words for beauty. Superlatives are repeated time and time again and the Wow factor just does not cease. Pity about the midges and the weather.
Although on the weather side, either Scotland has been the subject of porkies or my fixing of the heater duct work did the job. The weather has been superb and today looks set to repeat  the pattern.
After breakfast, we want one last photo. However we are fairly sure that the midges are present in hordes. The solution is for me to cover every bit of skin before exiting the van. Disposable gloves cover the hands. Ro’s midge net fits over my sun hat. Exiting the van, I feel totally protected but unfortunately am also almost totally blind  because of the strong sunlight on the fine white mesh. The short track to the loch is next to invisible and after stumbling down to the water’s edge, I can’t see the viewer on the camera. Here I believed it was one to me and in fact it is one to the midges. But a pyric victory because they get no blood from me. Not even from my cut knee when I fall on my return to the van.  
Returning on the other side of loch Leven, we are treated to more stunning scenery as we back track to Glencoe where we join the road to Fort William, about 45 minutes away.
More lochs, forests, mountain ranges and we arrive at Fort William. Ro has been having a bit of trouble with her pillow being too low so we want to find a replacement. Maybe also a cd cleaner.
There is a pay and display car park but we will only be here a few minutes. So Ro takes one of our pair of  walkie talkies and goes in search of pillows. She has remarkable success in that she finds a sculptured one with memory,  a CD cleaner and some cakes for morning tea. Fort Willam is assured a place in our memories.
We start toward Plokton, our next stop, and find a stopping place which is not so memorable. After morning tea, we discover, not for the first time, that the place we at which we should have stopped  is two minutes further on. Ho hum.
A bit further on we come to a Commando Memorial which has a spectacular lookout.  Unfortunately as we arrive, so does a bus load of tourists. We think tourists should be banned, perhaps with the odd exception.
On our route to Plokton, we pass Eilean Donan Castle which is sited on the Kyle of Loch Alsh , one kilometre from Dornie and of which we have seen photos. A young girl is playing the bagpipes near the entrance. We have little doubt that the visitors it does not drive away are enthralled.  We have seen our fair share of castles recently so we don’t buy tickets to go inside.
We are near the Isle of Skye so think we should cross over the bridge. It was a toll bridge when built but the inhabitants of Skye boycotted it and continued to use the ferry. Finally the toll was dropped so it is free to use.
On Skye, the signposts suggest it is quite a way to anywhere and it does not seem as special as Mull to us. So we return over the bridge and drive six miles further to Plokton.
We are old hands at the single lane track we need to use and are soon in the town. It is a quaint coastal village in a tidal inlet. There are boats for hire but no water on which to use them.  Fortunate we did not have our hearts set on hiring. Some waler will be available in six hours for those who want to wait.
It is a bit early for dinner so we will continue and maybe stop at a pub in an hour or so. Exiting Plokton, we are challenged with an extremely narrow single lane path and need to back up for a red station wagon. Even at a road junction, there is hardly any room to pass.
Finally we are on a two lane road again and laboriously climb up the mountain side. At the top we are rewarded with a parking place  with panoramic views across a loch. Rather than eat out, we will eat in.  Chez Rosemary provides lovely food and is renowned for the views from the dining table.

Wednesday 2nd  July 2014 :Overlooking Loch  Carron  , Scotland

Regarding Scottish weather, I spoke a bit too soon. This morning it is blowing a gale. The sky is gray and the van is rocking about in the wind despite the stabilizer jacks being firmly down. At least it is dry and the wind is not particularly cold.
We start on our trip to Ulapool. The wind does not decrease but it does start to rain. Despite the rain, we enjoy the drive. We pass lochs and wide treeless plains with mountains either side. Past a hydroelectricity dam wall (they were short on lochs so created an artificial one) and up and down steep hills.
The rain eases and we pass the turnoff to Inverewe Garden which Ro has on her itinerary. However a photo has convinced us that the 38 mile deviation is not worth the time. We fly past the turnoff then discuss whether it is the right decision. We decide it isn’t,  do a U turn and head toward Poolewe the town closest to the gardens.
By now it has started raining again and by the time we reach Inverewe, the rain is reasonably heavy and the wind strong. It does not encourage a walk through gardens.
We  discuss our options over lunch at the restaurant. The forcast for tomorrow is better so aybe we will stay here tonight and look at the gardens in the morning.
However, weather being the perverse thing it is, by the end of lunch, the rain has stopped, the wind has dropped and the sun is peeping through clouds. We can look at the gardens this afternoon and if we run out of time, return tomorrow.
The gardens have not been done justice by the photo. We enjoy walking the tracks of  the 70 hectare gardens. This climate in this part of Scotland is  tempered by the Gulf stream and the Jet stream. These two factors influence Britain’s weather in general and this area in particular such that semi tropical plants can survive here. We see Chilean, Australian and  South African plants together with those from America, Japan and numerous other countries. From Australia we see many eucalyptus trees, a favourite of the original creator of the garden.  Wollemi pines, the ancient pine species discovered in Australia in 1995, are growing  well here, donated by Australia in 2005.
We spend two enjoyable hours exploring the tracks and pathways before returning to the van in dappled sunlight. We will spend the night here and decide whether to revisit the garden tomorrow.

Thursday 3rd  July 2014 :Poolewe   , Scotland

The morning is  overcast but dry and not cold. However the midges are a deterrent  to Ro’s returning to the gardens. But there are two photographs  which we want so I volunteer to return to the fray. Apart from anything, I either don’t get bitten by midges or don’t respond much.
Walking back to the Wollemi pines I photograph the information plaque next to them and also a “Hankie” tree which was somewhat denuded by yesterday’s strong winds. The tree has a 10 metre canopy which is covered by white  leaves or flowers which hang down very much like ladies white handkerchiefs . We have not seen such a tree before and unfortunately did not see a plaque saying from which country they originate.
Now on to Ullapool. Half the journey is back along the same road we came in on. But the scenery  ca readily be enjoyed again. Once back on the road we had left yesterday, it is a short journey to Ullapool.
The population of Ullapool is in the region of 1500. It is a pretty seaside town and we walk along the seafront before visiting the Bank od Scotland for some cash. The notes dispensed are Clyde Bank Scottish pounds which are equal in value to British pounds. We have enquired whether they are accepted in England and been informed that people will generally take them. To be sure, we enquire in the bank and they tell us that any bank or post office will exchange them.
We buy some fuel and fill with water, allowing us another 3 nights wild camping and leave for Durness, our most northerly destination.
The road from Ullapool to Durness is billed by Lonely Planet  as the most spectacular (where are those 100 superlatives when you need them)   scenery one can  see in Scotland.  It certainly is breathtaking. The majesty is enhanced by the narrow track which  snakes into the distance, only occasionally sullied by the odd vehicle.
Along the way we happen upon a ruined castle, Ardvreck on loch Assynt, which we explore. It was a four storey building built in 15th century with quite a small footprint. Only  the cellar and first floor remain with some walls to a height of about 10 metres.
Durness is a small town of around 500 people with not a lot to look at. We have some afternoon tea overlooking a wind swept  beach which has lovely sand. A sign proclaims that it is a site of outstanding natural beauty and a bombing range used by the military. The Scots sure know how to get the best from their natural treasures.
We had found a place near to the castle which we thought would be a good overnight  place so we head back toward that. The drive back through the wide plains is just as awe inspiring as the inward journey  but the wind is very strong. The site we had chosen was very exposed  but, being the wooses we are, we instead opt for a more sheltered site near a rather stunning bridge and a group of less stunning recyclables bins.  

Friday 4th  July 2014 :Between Durness and Ullapool   , Scotland

True Scottish weather greets us. It has been raining for 12 hours. But the miserable weather gave us the opportunity last night to use our heater so we have been  snug as a bug in a mollusc  all night. It also encouraged us to sleep in. It is 9.30 before we arise and 11 before we get on the wet and windy road. The delay is partly due to us listening to Don Burrows playing Benny Goodman’s favourites. With the new speakers in the cab and the pair in the living area, the sound is quite good.
So now to Inverness. Along the way we stop at   Corrieshallock  Gorge which we missed along  the road to Inverewe Garden but which we have since learned is well worth visiting. It is only ½ mile off the road to Inverness back toward Inverewe.
As the rain is still significant and as Ro still has a cold we wonder if we will bother. Fortunately the rain stops so we walk the 500 metres to a suspension bridge across the gorge, cross it then another 200 metres to a lookout cantilevered above the 50 metre deep gorge.
The up side to the rain is that the waterfalls have a significant torrent cascading  over the rocks and down to the river way below us. The suspension bridge has a warning that no more than 6 people should be on it. It was built in the mid 1800s and is still in good condition but with rather more recent decking.  Some good photo opportunities present themselves. The rain has started again so the van’s bathroom becomes a drying room for our wet coats.
Continuing on  we pass back through Ullapool then on to Inverness where our first call is to Lidl. We want to see a group of small islands joined by Victorian pedestrian bridges  but the weather is still uninviting  and we will continue on to Brodie Castle about 20 miles away. Maybe  Inverness will present some better weather on our return trip tomorrow.
About 6 miles before the castle is the town of Nairn where we stop for afternoon tea by the harbour and overlook the sea. The trip through the town is rather slow as it is approaching peak traffic so we linger over our drinks. We are hoping that Brodie carpark will provide an overnight refuge for us. If not, something else will turn up.
On reaching Brodie our hopes are dashed by a “No camping in Car Park” sign. But along a side road there is a waterway with a walking track and a pull off area nearby. Hopefully the little road does not become a major artery during the night.

Saturday 5th  July 2014 :   , Scotland

After breakfast we walk around the lake along a wooded path. The midges don’t seem to be about so our 2 km walk is very enjoyable. There are some hides which allow viewing of wildlife and we enter one. These are timber huts facing the waterway with small slits toward the water. The  idea is to keep very still and quiet so the animals will go about their business undisturbed and we can observe them. The quiet bit is a bit of a problem as we passed two mothers with four or five three year olds in tow and quiet does not go with such groups. We abandon any wildlife aspirations and continue our walk.On arriving back at the van we drive to Brodie Castle, about 3 km away.
It is about 11am and a tour is just about to leave. All tours of the castle are guided and we join a group of about 8 others. The first room we see is a library of dark panelled oak with 6000 odd books of 18th and 19th century. The Brodie family were great readers and apparently all the books have been read. The shelves cover all the walls and there are panelled columns to a lowish ceiling. The furniture is lovely. The paintings are lovely. The ambience is lovely.
Further on we see the dining room and drawing room. Both of these have a nice feel to them. Not the sterility often associated with other stately homes we have seen; with some exceptions. Returning  to the ground floor I ask if the piano in the drawing room is ever played  and comment that Ro played the one at Stourhead. The guide says they sometimes have musical siorees  but does not take the hint that Ro would like to play it. Oh well.
Some lunch is in order from the tea rooms and the cauliflower and leek soup sounds appealing. After our soup we continue onto the Victorian kitchen which has interesting descriptions of the utensils displayed. Our guide turns up here and I say to her that maybe my request was a bit oblique and could Ro play the piano as she is missing hers. The guide says  she has another tour in 10 minutes but a quick tinkle would be possible. So Ro plays for what turns out to be 5 or 6 minutes before the guide needs to leave. Unfortunately she cannot leave us there alone, which is understandable. Maybe Ro can play her way through the stately homes of the UK.
After a walk in the grounds, there is just enough time to visit Cullodin which is the site of the battle of that name where the Jacobites  under Bonny Prince Charlie and assisted in small measure by the French  in 1746 were crushed by the British forces. This  followed a significant number of Jacobite successes. This battle sealed Scotland’s fate until September   this year when they have a referendum  on independence. Maybe they should  leave the battle field unbooked for that day.
The building has been recently created with impressive audio visuals. After traversing a maze of passageways the walls of which tell the story  from both points of view, the passages lead to an immersion experience where the four walls each have projected on them a movie of a re enactment of the battle. The realism is not for the faint hearted. I am, so I leave. While the event is historically very significant, the inhumanity which the whole area depicts is not my cup of tea. Although I will have cause later to regret the defeat.
By 6pm we are on the road to Braemar, 2 hours away. The sun does not even get low in the horizon  until 9.30  and the sun is shining brightly so we  will still get a great view of the scenery.
Along the way we have dinner at a pub in Tomlintoul. This is where I lament Bonnie Prince Charlies defeat. I foolishly order chicken in barbeque sauce with cheese topping. Had the French been on the winning side at the very least it would have been Poulet au jus BBQ au frommage or something similar which may not have tasted any better but would have sounded better. On the other hand, I could have been presented with Scottish snails in garlic butter which would have been worse.
Our path takes over the ski slopes which are mostly treeless and must provide great sking.  We are high on the slopes when we see assorted ski lifts and slow ploughs. They look like they have the usual colour runs but as well as a black runs, there appear to be black hole runs from which  the skiers might never return.
Reaching Braemar by 9.30 we find the Braemar Castle parking area which is no picture postcard but will do for the night. We have stayed in far less desirable locations. Besides, once our curtains are shut to maintain heat, we could be anywhere we choose.

Sunday 6th  July 2014 : Braemar  , Scotland

A cursory glance  last night had not revealed any ‘camping prohibited’ notices but this morning the police have stopped at the exit. We assume they are  watching for speedsters but when we are ready to move, they  leave so maybe they were checking us out. Just fortunate we look like such  upstanding citizens despite our gypsy caravan.
Heading toward Ballater, we are taken on a rather circuitous route by Thomasina. As always, the route is very enjoyable, if somewhat unnecessary. Part of our drive is through a golf course where kilted Scotsmen play golf, which was invented in Scotland.
 We had intended calling in to Balmoral Castle for tea with the Queen or whatever else is on offer and before Ballater there before us is the castle. At the gate, we discover that the Queen will not be in residence until August and it seems that even if she were there, tea would quite possibly not be offered.
Disappointed, we decide to have a look around anyway but are aghast that we visitors from Downunder are still expected to pay  10 pounds a piece!
We have access to the grounds and the Ballroom but not to the castle, which is actually a hunting lodge rather than a castle. An audio guide leads us via the kitchen garden where there are numerous greenhouses to cope with the cold weather. In these areas, it can get as low as -29 in winter. One greenhouse which has been a part of the estate since it was built by Prince Albert in 1850s was restored in 2002 and houses beautiful flowers which are placed throughout the lodge when HRH is in residence. The estate was purchased by Albert and Victoria in 1848 and the lodge was built over the next five or so years.
Continuing on toward the lodge we pass formal gardens and wide expanses of lawn all the while getting full views of the 3 storey lodge. Earlier in the stables complex we had seen photographs of the lodge during its construction. It is interesting to view the places from which those photos would have been taken.
The Ballroom is the largest room in the lodge as the lodge was never intended for state functions. The ballroom has occasionally seen some state functions but mostly is used for the  guillies  dance which is held when the Queen leaves after her 10 week working stay each year.  
A walk along the Dee River completes our visit. The Dee is supposed to offer the best salmon fishing in Scotland. It starts raining just before we reach the van. It is nice after 5 hours of walking to have a hot drink in the shelter of our van.
There are two roads which go to Ballater. One crosses over the narrow  bridge toward the lodge then becomes a narrow track to the town. The other is the main road. We choose to cross the bridge, attracting curious stares from people returning to the car park. Ro waves regally but only the Americans are fooled. Any  UK residents know the Queen only travels in the latest motorpalace.
At Ballater we walk around the pretty town and come across the old railway station which no longer has tail tracks  to service but which has been renovated in the Victorian period. Inside is Queen Victoria’s  Royal Train carriage which unfortunately we cannot see very closely as the tourist information centre which houses it is closed.
Our next city is Perth. It is 6pm so we can travel a couple more hours.
One problem we have is our washing water. Because we have been wild camping for the last week or so, we only get three or four  nights per tankful. We are down to ¼ and should fill for this evening. Plan A is to fill at a servo. Plan A fails when the servo is closed. Plan B is to have very short showers and that we may have to do. However we do have a Plan Dee to fill with water from the River D…. sorry Plan D to fill from the River Dee. The only impediment to plan D is access to River Dee. We try one spot but it is too steep. And for some reason, as I walk to the driver’s door, suddenly there are 100s of flys. I take my leave and Ro unlocks the rear door where I hurriedly climb in before the flies catch on. If Alfred Hitchcock had been here, I am sure he would have made a film of it.
Further on we find a more accessible part where I can immerse a bucket which we tip into the water tank. The water is very cold and after 4 buckets we are satisfied. Our water is ¾ full so we are OK for another couple of nights.
The route takes us high into the mountains again and past another ski field. The haul up one side is slow and the trip down the other  side requires low gear to keep the speed down. There are sections where the gradient is 20%. Reminiscent of the alps in Switzerland.
By 8.30 we are approaching Perth so we need to stop before we hit the city. Places are few and far between. One excursion up a narrow path results in a local having to reverse 200 yards as there is no passing point. She is not very happy.
Finally we find an entrance to a gas main access yard. This appears to be rarely accessed so we should be OK.   What’s the bet they have scheduled maintenance for Monday morning…….

Monday 7th  July 2014 :Near Perth  , Scotland

What are the chances that a maintenance truck would turn up at 7pm to work on the gas main? 1 in a million? Which is fortunate because no truck turns up. We eat our breakfast in peace  then wander off close to 10. We seem to have slipped into holiday mode somewhere along the track. But we say it is to miss Perth’s rush hour.
At Perth, we seem to have achieved that goal as there are not many cars at all. Despite this, it has a city feel to it and having driven through, we feel no need to linger.
We intended heading  for Edinburgh but at morning tea come across Culross which is described as a living museum from the 16th century. We enjoyed the living museum of Beamish last year so hope this may be similar.
Arriving about 11.30, we find a parking area one kilometre away from the town, remove the bikes  and ride in along the shores of the Forth River.
The main National Trust of Scotland  building is called a palace but is not what comes to mind when using that term. It is really a large (for the times) building which was built in 1586 by John Bruce, an industrialist made wealthy through mining of coal and manufacture of salt through evaporation of sea water.
At that time Culross was a booming town  but following inundation of the mine by sea, the fortunes of the town changed. In 1033, the newly formed National Trust of Scotland purchased the now derelict building  as its first purchase. Over the next five years it purchased 25 other cottages  thus saving the village from commercial redevelopment. It is now one of Scotland’s most original areas of 16th century. The cottages have been modernised inside while retaining the original external features and are now tenanted which returns funds to the Trust.
First we go on a guided tour of the town. Our young Scottish guide enthusiastically tells our group of 6  of the history of Culross (pronounced Kuross) and we get to see through various 16th century buildings, all well presented and maintained in their original forms.
The building is very authentic, albeit displaying some redecoration from later centuries. It is easy to see how imposing it would have been in its time. Some decoration in the form of wall paintings exists as painted in 16th century.
There are 8 or 10 rooms in the original building  which are available for viewing. They all have authentic period furniture although not necessarily from that house. The floor covering is a reed mat which, although contemporary, reflects what would have been available then.
Leaving the house we enter a walled and terraced garden which would have supplied food for the household. Although the dietary value of vegetables was not recognised then, vegetables being only used for flavour,  and fruit was considered dangerous if over consumed.
The garden rises steeply with 4 or 5 levels. At the top level, one is well above the peak of  the 3 storey pitched roof. All the woodwork is manufactured in traditional methods with pegs through bored holes for connections.
In 1611, a second wing was built for guests. The rooms are surprisingly large. We look at  the ground and first floors accessing them via timber or stone spiral stairs (or helixes to be pedantic)
It is 4 pm and we have not had lunch. We enquire where we can eat and are directed to The Red Lion a lovely original pub which serves us two very nice, hot meals. I have a pint of Guinness, having learnt my lesson with my BBQ sauce chicken where I had a local stout. The stout matched the chicken. But the Guinness is lovely, as I have experienced before.
The track back to the van extends further and we ride on understanding there to be a jetty in ½ mile. After 1 ½ mile we decide there is to be no jetty and return. However we do see our first glimpse of the famous Forth of Firth railway bridge, with its massive cantilevered central spans. Ro thinks the spans look like dinosaur ribcages.  The view of the bridge  makes the ride very worthwhile. We will spend the night here and continue tomorrow.

Tuesday 8th  July 2014 : Culross , Scotland

Rain. But we are travelling this morning so it does not matter much. Hopefully by the time we reach Falkland where our next castle is located, it will be dry.
Although we keep saying “This is our last xxx” where xxx is garden or castle or stately home or museum, it never is.  This castle, like Balmoral, is actually a hunting lodge. Also like Balmoral, it was the summer residence of early Scottish royalty. In medieval times, country air was sought in summer because the stench in the cities became unbearable.
This lodge saw many generations of royalty including  Mary Queen of Scots who spent many enjoyable times here in her youth before her troubled adult years until her unfortunate demise at the hands of an axeman.
The lodge was part of a large estate and was used as a royal residence up until the 1600s. Following Charles 1st beheading , Oliver Cromwell’s and his men stayed here but, on one occasion,  left without extinguishing a kitchen fire. A large part of the lodge, in particular the Royal Apartments , was destroyed  by the ensuing fire. When Charles 2nd assumed the throne twenty years later, he did not envisage using the lodge again so instructed the land be sold with the caveat that the lodge be retained by him but  kept wind and watertight by the purchaser of the land. The lodge , albeit wind and watertight, fell into disrepair until the 1890s when the then  keeper refurbished it and used it as a residence. In addition, the fact that the land is not part of the lodge grounds means the actual lodge with its immediate gardens and outbuildings sits among village buildings and residences. The lodge itself is still owned by HRH.
The lodge , apart from the ruined royal apartments, is in good condition and up until the trust took control was used as a residence. It is quite snug and cosy. We look at drawing rooms, a nice library, some bed chambers and a study at the top of a flight of spiral stairs. There are trust volunteers in each room who are very helpful.
Walking out over the ruined great hall, there is one tower which has been recreated as the king’s chamber. It is interesting that it is quite pleasantly warm in feel due to the fabrics adorning each wall. We learn that in those times all the wall adornments and furniture were taken with the king in some dozens of carts whenever the king travelled. Travel cases were typically 2 metre by 1 metre square and there were some 100s of them moved each time. Quite an undertaking.
There is another garden with beautifully manicured lawns and wonderfully colourful garden beds. Ro  wants us to do the same at home but the difference in available land is a slight issue. Perhaps we can buy 20 adjacent  properties and do the same. I think this small impediment will let me off the hook.
The final building is a Royal Tennis Court built in the md 1500s. It is the oldest tennis court still in use anywhere in the world. Royal Tennis is still alive and well in several countries despite being very much more complex than its modern version, namely lawn tennis. Royal tennis  also became known as real tennis by its devotees, following  the introduction of the lightweight upstart.
Now for Edinburgh, about 40 miles away.  The drive does not have the magic which we have experienced further north. The bits of motorway we travel  (despite our preference for ‘ avoid motorways’) are increasing as is  the traffic density. There are less open spaces. We are returning to big cities.
Arriving near Edinburgh about 5 pm, we travel across the road bridge next to the rail bridge we saw at a distance. The bridge is like three Sydney Harbour bridges in a row although of vastly different construction.  I think I will research the building of it on the net. It is very impressive.
We have decided to stay at a caravan park as our waste water is full, our cleaning water is empty and we dare not even consider our black water. Also  we have not had a full flow shower for weeks. The van’s shower is perfunctory;  light years away from luxurious.
The facilities are excellent and there is plenty of grass  and space to move. We will enjoy our night here.

Wednesday 9th  July 2014 :Edinburgh  , Scotland

Our plan is to leave the van at the nearby Park and Ride and take the brand new tram into the city. The tram been in the pipeline or the tramline or whatever for five years. Edinburgh scrapped its tram network in the 1960s but decided to re implement it at a cost of 750 million pounds. It is quite controversial there having been a number of stuff ups along the way. We Melbourneons know about transport stuff ups, particularly ticketing systems. I suspect Edinburgh has not implemented our ticketing system. Come to think of it, we haven’t yet either.
Part B of our plan was to arrive at the tram station by 8.30 am. We arrive at the P&R about 11 so Part B is abandoned. But the tram ride into Edinburgh is easy, smooth and inexpensive; 7 pounds for two day tickets including bus travel and no parking fee. Compare with London’s 34 pounds for 2 day tickets with no free parking!
We alight  near Edinburgh Castle which dominates the city. It is quite a climb up to the castle and on arrival we see the famous Edinburgh Tattoo arena which is quite small. Unfortunately the seating on three sides is an overbearing  bright blue and galvanised steel monstrosity with no attempt to deal with it sympathetically. It makes a mockery of the effort that heritage organizations go to in order to maintain the authenticity of the buildings in their care.
There are hordes of tourists with long queues at the ticket box. We decide that, despite it being billed as a must see, there will be dozens  of other must sees which will not be shoulder to shoulder tourists.
From the castle there is a walk through the old town to Holyrood Palace  called the Royal Mile which past monarchs   used when moving between the two. The buildings are well preserved and the streets are mostly still cobbled. We call into the obligatory cathedral where a minister is telling those listening how compassionate God is.  He may not have read how those living in the old city were riddled with disease, poverty and appalling living conditions.
Further on we visit a museum in an authentic medieval building which has an authentic medieval smell about it and  not a very pleasant one. We look around a labyrinth of small rooms with objects of some interest but not riveting. Getting out is not so easy and we hope the fire alarm does not ring while we are inside.
Passing the very modern and rather out of place Scottish Parliament, we cross to Holyrood Palace without needing to enter.  But we do enjoy a break on some lovely grass just near what is claimed to be Queen Mary’s bath house. There is no evidence of a bath in the house so historians are not convinced that the claim is true.
We want to buy some stamps and the most convenient  post office is in a nearby shopping centre. These are not our favourite places anywhere but especially overseas because there is nothing to distinguish them from those at home. Why travel to the other side of the earth to see the same complex you can see 10 minutes from home. In fact, we have not seen shopping centres which are as good as those 10 minutes from home.  But that may be because we avoid them here. Stamps purchased, we get the hell out of here .
By now we are somewhat foot sore. Since we have an all day bus ticket, we will get a bus to anywhere and hopefully back again. There is a double decker bus leaving so we hop on that and see sights of the city for 15 minutes. Then we get a bus back and see the same sights from the opposite perspective. This is  spontaneous itinerary generation at its most creative.
It is getting a bit late but we can alight at Heymarket at the west end and visit the Georgean House which  looks interesting. Last entries to the house are at  5.30 and the house closes at 6. It is now 4.30 so we have plenty of time. First we watch a video made in the house of how an early family  spent their days compared with how the servants spent theirs. It came as no surprise that the servants had pretty hard lives, especially compared with  the frivolous pursuits of the family. The house is very well presented, and the video  adds an extra dimension to the understanding of the environment.
By 6 we are walking back to the tram to return to our van. Along the way we see a pub which beckons. A very friendly girl sees to our needs and elevates the dining experience considerably. The environment is most enjoyable and the food is very nice and reasonably priced.
Edinburgh has been a nice city to visit despite the brevity of our stay. Some cities immediately have a palpable pleasant character and others are largely devoid of that. Edinburgh is certainly one of the former.
The comfortable and quiet tram provides a welcome rest on the journey back to our Escargot. We will return to last nights camp site and tomorrow we will visit the Royal Runabout Britannia before moving on.

Thursday 10th  July 2014 :Edinburgh  , Scotland

Because Newhales, our first job  in the business of touring for the day, does not open until 12, we can sleep in. Naturally, because we don’t have to awake early, we do.
The day is as perfect as a day could be. Cloudless, warm without being overly hot and not windy. We have our usual breakfast of muesli , crispbread, jam and butter and Ovaltine then do a few chores. I am on latrine duty (as always) and Ro is on hand washing duty (as always). There is a German guy who has left his lights on. I point this out to him and he thanks me but does nothing about it. Later he comes to explain that it is  the parking lights which come on with the ignition which he needs on because the 12 volt accessories will not work in the accessory position.   
We have quite a long chat about interesting things such as patents as he is a patent attorney in Munich. We discuss other matters including the EU, always a hot topic here.
By 12.15  we are ready to leave. It is a 30 minute trip to Newhales where we discover that tours are only available with guides and the next one is a 2pm. Looks like HRH’s runabout will have to wait for tomorrow.
We have time for an informative video and some lunch in the van before our tour which has only two other people plus the guide. The house was built  in 17th century and expanded in early 18th century.   It has been in the same family for 300 years. Fortunately for us,  recent owners have not had buckets of cash to splash so the building is very original. There are friezes on the wall which exist nowhere else in Britain and one room has only been painted twice in 300 years. Mighty fine paints they had in those days.
There is a wonderful library which housed 12,000 volumes until death duties in the 20th century saw the books  given to the Scottish National Library as payment. The empty shelves are unfortunate in the extreme. The books could be returned if the Trust had a full time curator, which it cannot currently afford. Lonely Planet  comments that visitors to the library merely  utter ‘Wow’ in amazement on seeing the size of this room after seeing other modest to small rooms in the house. We are in that category.
The reason for the huge library is that Lord Hales, otherwise known as David Dalrymple, was a participant in the Scottish Enlightenment, a movement active from mid 18th to early 19th centuries. The members of this movement were both erudite and eclectic in their intellectual pursuits. Edinburgh was renowned for the numerous intellects who gathered here from across Europe. The library had been described in the day as the ‘most learned drawing room in Europe’.  Lord Hales wanted to share his knowledge so readily loaned volumes to anyone interested in those intellectual topics.
The idea behind the Scottish Enlightenment movement  was to analyse and understand knowledge. The most tangible outcome of the movement in Edinburgh was the design of new Edinburgh built next to old Edinburgh. The grid of the new city allowed modernization of buildings which incorporated lots of light, space and grace, although this only extended partially to the servants’ quarters. Nonetheless, the levels of hygiene rose considerably for all.   
In order to demonstrate allegiance to the English monarch following the 1745 defeat at Culloden , the street names were  heavily influenced by  names of English royalty. However it took 50 years for the new Edinburgh  to be built and for the disease ridden tenements to be cleared.
So Newhales is an important historical monument to Scotland’s influence on world development in thinking and Edinburgh’s development into the delightful city it now is.
Our guide spends over an hour taking us to various rooms, bed chambers and servants areas which,  give an excellent glimpse into the times, which for this building were gracious indeed.  An interesting point in the bed chambers  is the alcoves  in which the bed was placed which were common before the Victorian era. Later it was discovered that circulation of fresh air when sleeping lessened the rates of lung infections so alcoves were no longer built.
It is now  4 and, as expected,  too late to visit Britannia. The Newhales car park does not have ‘no camping’ signs which is our  cue  to stay here. Tomorrow is not forecast to be such a good day but  if we are in the ship we probably won’t notice.

Friday 11th  July 2014 :Musselburgh  , Scotland

Another quiet night only disturbed by dog walkers from about 7am. That suits us as we want to get to HRH’s Royal Runabout by 2pm as we are lead to believe the crowds are less from then on. This morning we will visit Roslin where Rosslyn Chapel of The DaVinci Code fame is located.. Why the different spelling we do not discover.
The chapel was a private affair started in 1446 and  intended to be double the size. As it is, it is on the small side but is remarkable for the ornate carving. The original builder, Sir William St Clair,   commissioned the village of Roslin to be built to house the workers over the 40 year build period of the chapel.
It was built as the Collegiate Church of St Matthew, a seat of learning but of the catholic persuasion. After Catholicism  was banned in Scotland in the 16th century, the family was threatened with execution if they did not remove the alter and cease masses. The family instead chose to flee, not an unreasonable response under the circumstances. The Chapel fell into disrepair over the next 200 years until a wealthy Earl (weren’t they all) refurbished the chapel and reconsecrated it as protestant. Queen Victoria visited it as a young queen and declared that it should be preserved for the benefit of the country. Several additions were made in Victorian times and various attempts have been made since to ensure  its survival into the long term future. Dan Brown’s fictional book and the subsequent Hollywood film, while obscuring the historical record, through populous acclaim have increased tourism by 12 fold and ironically have thus ensured its future. In particular, the increased patronage allowed a temporary  steel cover to be erected for 14 years which allowed the stonework to dry out prior to a lead roof being installed.  
From there it is on to   HMY Britannia. Monarchs have had personal ships since the 1600s. The Britannia replaced the  MY Victoria and Albert III.
The proposal to build a new vessel came about in 1935 under Elizabeth’s father George’s rule but the war intervened. The continuation of the plans after the war were partially intended to help George’s ailing health but he died shortly before the ship was completed. Prince Phillip commented that previous monarchs built  significant structures and the Britannia is this monarch’s contribution to that legacy. The Britannia’s first voyage was in 1954 and she was decommissioned in 1997. The permanent exhibition which we see today will be this monarch’s entry in the annals of history  for future generations.
In her over 40 years of service she travelled more than 1 million miles on 600 odd  Royal tours. She had a compliment of 300 sailors, termed yachtsmen,  and officers and  was designed to convert to a hospital ship for 200 within 24 hours to assist in times of war, although she never was required for this.
We start at the bridge which was fitted with the latest equipment in the 50s and regularly updated during her working life. The admiral’s cabin is quite acceptable but the officers’  cabins are fairly sparse and as we progress down into the bowls of the ship, the accommodation for the lower ranks gets more cramped and less comfortable. Likewise the Admiral’s dining area is quite swish whereas the yachtsmens’ dining area makes Coles Cafeteria look swish. On the top deck is a garage for the Royal Bentleigh. A big car but quite narrow and fitted out to carry 2 people.  The garage was an afterthought; perhaps an after half thought since  the bumpers need to be removed to get the car in the garage.
But the main point of the ship is the royal apartments. These are indeed elegant but not  ornate. Apparently Queenie did not approve the first suggested décor design as she thought them too ornate. Thus the two bedrooms we see have standard single beds with simple furnishings  and the anteroom and drawing room which are large, are understated but very elegant. The main dining room can cater for some 100s of dignitaries with the polish for which the British are renowned.
Because it was designed as a standby hospital ship, it has a fully equipped operating theatre. Whether one would want brain surgery in a force 9 gale is a debatable. The laundry is immense with dozens of machines including shirt ironers and collar pressing machines. On warm days, the temperature could get to 45 degrees. While the British associate this with  Dante’s Inferno we Aussies associate that with a hot day. The laundry could have done up to 600 shirts per day. The admiral alone sometimes had 12 changes of uniform per day. However, the main reason for the size of the laundry is because of the hospital function the ship could perform. The kitchen is still used for corporate functions. The ship can be hired for dinner for up to 200 or drinks for up to 450. They would be pretty special events but I would imagine they would come at quite a price. All revenue from the ship goes to a charitable trust.
The Royal Barge, a rather inauspicious name for a quite grand vessel, is 12.5 metres long and is floating in its own display bath alongside the ship. On the outer side of the ship is the racing yacht Bloodhound which was derelict until a private person bought it and did it up. There is a short film which shows the restoration. Makes me think about our boat up at Romsey for 5 years. I can’t claim that the end result was the same.
We could not be on Britannia without having tea in the Royal Tearoom on the top deck. Although the top deck was open during the ships operational life, an enclosed space has been very appropriately added. We have a view across the water while we have tea (me coffee) and cake. We even get paper napkins with the Britannia emblem. Just like queeny would have had. Perhaps hers would have been bond paper. All very enjoyable.
Finally to the engine rooms. They are immaculate as was everything on the ship. Everything was polished daily, from teak flooring to  cutlery. Every day. When President Eisenhower was shown the engine room, he said “Ok, you have shown me the museum piece. Now show me the dirty engine room” Question is ; was that a compliment or a backhander on the technology? The ship has two props each powered by 12000 hp high pressure/low pressure turbines driven by diesel fired boilers. Everything is gleaming as it would have been during its service.
So back to our van. On reflection, the yachtsmens’ quarters were not so bad.
Our next visit is the Falkirk Wheel which is a 21st century answer to canal locks. It has two big bathtubs on giant arms which lift boats between two canals vertically separated by 35 metres.
Along the way we see a National Trust property, House of the Binns. Driving in, there is a park where maybe we can stay the night. At the entrance a notice says the gates close at 7.30 pm until 7.30 am. That will not worry us. It is 7.15 so we will hang about until 7.30 before going for a walk to see if we are thrown out. At 7.45 a lady asks us when we intend leaving. We express our hope of staying and she dashes those hopes, despite our commenting we have stayed at other National Trust properties.  She politely says we can’t here. But we are welcome to go walking on such a lovely evening and they will open the gates to let us out when we are finished.
We walk up to a tower where there is a view back to the Firth of Forth bridge, albeit through a haze which I don’t think is pollution. We leave after 30 or 40 minutes, letting ourselves out the gate.
At Falkirk we find a park near the wheel which is far from attractive but serves our purpose. Tomorrow the wheel.   

Saturday 12th  July 2014 :Falkirk  , Scotland

The temperature is pleasant. During the past 9 months, we have been wondering if the reputed cold and wet of Scotland would depress us. In fact, we have had far more sunny days than wet ones and only twice have we contemplated using our cabin heater. We have heard Global Warming referred to on a few occasions so maybe this is an unusually warm summer.
Last night we had walked to the gates of the park area in which the wheel is located. A gate prevented  us entering but we could see the top canal entrance to the wheel. That alone is impressive. A concrete extension of the  Union Canal juts out from the higher level terrain above the Forth and Clyde Canal 35 metres below. The support columns have aesthetic circular forms through which the canal passes.
This morning we can drive into the area and find a parking spot  in the mostly empty car parks. It is 9am and the wheel does not operate until 10.
If the input canal is impressive, the wheel  is doubly so. It consists of two arms with a 3 meter diameter tube joining them. At either end of the massive arms are two giant bathtubs, call gondalas, about 25 metres by 3 by 1.5 deep full of water. Not unlike a Lunar Park ride but travelling somewhat slower. It takes 4 ½ minutes for a half revolution. Into each gondalas can be navigated a 60 foot narrow boat.  
Remarlably, the whole wheel is powered by a 2 horsepower motor! The energy consumed per day for rotation costs 10 pounds! This is because the gondalas with their  varying loads are perfectly balanced because of Archimedes principal. A heavier boat will displace more water than a light boat so as long as the water in each gondala is the same depth, the arm is balanced and little power is required to rotate. In fact, after closing the end of the gondala exposed to the canal , they spill water from one or the other to ensure even mass. The wheel can tolerate a 3 ton imbalance which is very small compared with the mass of the whole rotatable structure.
It costs nothing to take a canal boat through the wheel. The cost is included in the annual license fee. But visitors can board one of two visitor canal boats and have a ride for 9 pounds which takes about 50 minutes. And visitors there are aplenty. People stand mesmerised  at the base of the machine as the two giant gondalas and their boats are swung out and exchanged top for bottom. Remarkably, the seals on the end plates are such that one can stand directly under a gondala as it rotates without getting wet.
There is a visitor centre which  has a wall of information. The wheel was built when interest in the canals was rekindled in the  second half of last century. There was a series of 10 locks which joined the two canals but they have been destroyed and built over in the last 100 years. The wheel was the solution at 17 million pounds. The canal boat users must be happy; an 8 hour trip through the lock set is reduced to 15 minutes.  It was opened in 2002 and, judging by the crowds, has continued  to be a major attraction. The canals are very popular for canal boat holidays and we saw two or three boats pass through the wheel in the few hours we were there. However  the  tourist boats are by far the greater users . At about 1000 pounds per boat trip, the wheel looks like it would pay its way. At its opening, the Queen said the expected life is 120 years.
Having ooed and ahhed for an hour, me mainly, we go for a walk to the Union Canal at the top side of the wheel. The canal passes through a 150 metre long tunnel through a hill and on the far side are two conventional locks. We watch as two canal boats traverse the locks. Returning through the tunnel, we walk a couple of kilometres further  to the Antonine Wall, built by the Romans in 140 AD. Were we not so erudite we might have thought it was just a mound of dirt with a ditch next to it.  Admittedly our erudition is only as recent as the sign we have just read.  There is the remains of a Roman Fort a bit further, but a nearby Roman foot soldier informs us that it is mainly a rectangular foundation. The foot soldier does not sound enthralled by it so we suspect we may not be either and start back toward the van. It starts raining but not heavily enough to soak us.
Back at the van I discover that the tour guide seems to have abandoned her role by now so we consult the map and stick in a pin. We will go to Smail’s Printing Works down in the border region in Innerleithan. To her credit, the tour guide had written the border region on her itinerary, but the details were a bit sketchy. So Smails it is.
Along the way we do a Lidl shopping then drive along country roads in the rain toward Smails. About 10 miles from our destination we see a pulloff point which will do us for the night. It turns out that the road is a very busy one, but fortunately not while we are sleeping.     

Sunday 13th  July 2014 :Innerleithan  , Scotland

The printing works does not open until 1pm on Sundays so we have a very lazy morning. By 11.30 we leave and are in Innerleithan in 20 minutes.
Something either is brewing or has brewed as there is blue and white bunting everywhere, witches hats preventing parking and police to ensure the effectiveness of the witches hats.
The Smail Print Works are on the main street but there is no parking. A bit further we turn off into a side street and find a spot where we are not in anyone’s way. Back in the village there are signs suggesting some bands either have or will appear.  
The print works is now open so we enter, flash the attendant (with our National Trust membership) and start our 1 ½ hour tour. The shop front we enter belies the print works behind, although that is not very big anyway.
The printworks dates back to 1850 when a bootmaker saw an opportunity to become a printer. The business flourished until 1986 when the grandson of the original owner wanted to retire but had no family and no buyer interest. It was doomed to be lost to progress. Fortuitously, a member of the British Ephemeral Society ( which presumably no longer exists) chanced upon the For Sale notice and looked inside. The business had stood still in time and there were documents dating back to 1850. He persuaded the Scottish National Trust to purchase the business and they agreed. It is now run as a working museum.
The Smails kept everything. It was not so long ago that I threw out my grade 8 history exercise book but I have nothing on the Smails. They have a sample of everything printed since 1850. Not only that, but White Star stubs from tickets sold in 1912. It is a treasure trove of original documents. That the Trust even hesitated is surprising.
We start with the office next to the shop front. Here we see ancient relics such as adding machines, typewriters and office equipment of the type used when I was a boy.  The office is much the same as it was in 1986, 1966, 1946….. There is a photo from early 1900s and the office is little changed.
Next we go to the paper store where we see paper, which comes a no great surprise. But there is a machine from the 1800s which marks lines on ruled paper using individual pens under which the individual sheets pass.
Upstairs is the compositor’s room where we actually set our names for printing on a bookmark. I now am the proud owner of a bookmark with the name “Darez  Holzbrak”. There does seem to be some skill in typesetting and certainly in proof reading.
From there to the print room. The 1880 press is still operating with other presses up to a 1950 Heidelberg press. The tour is very interesting and far more than we expected.
By now it is 3pm and we have found out that there is a street parade just starting now. The festival is Games Week and this weekend marks the start.
There is a pipe band with about 25 pipers and probably 8 drummers. There is also a brass band of about 20 members. We are treated to a very good performance and we learn later that they have won regional awards.
After the bands, we walk to an old spa complex which has a small museum. Probably not the highlight of our visit but we are able to get the van and fill our water tank which is a major plus.
By 6 we are ready to move on to Melrose which we will see tomorrow. Along the way we find a forest area which will be perfect for tonight.  Before hunkering down for a cold cloudless night we walk 3 or 4 kilometres into a pine forest, returning about 9.45 as the sun is starting to set.  
We like Scotland.

Monday 14th  July 2014 :Melrose  , Scotland

Our forest hideaway is quiet overnight. After breakfast we get on the road for our drive to Melrose, 13 miles away, by 9.
The roads we are now on are narrow but dual lane and weave through beautiful rolling hills and pastures and past fast flowing streams. The journey is as enjoyable as the destination. This is why we avoid motorways.
Melrose is a beautiful  mostly 17th century village. The houses are elegant and beautifully built. It is interesting to see the differences between the centuries as building became more sophisticated with better design and better manufacturing techniques. Colours also play more of a part.
We are here to see the Harmony Manor and gardens but there is a ruined abbey which is renowned as very beautiful. We locate the abbey first but in locating a parking place, find one outside Harmony. They in fact are opposite one another. How convenient.
The gate to the manor is open and we free to roam as we wish. The manor is a grand house; not huge but impressive. I walk up the steps but the front door is locked. We discover that the house is no longer open to the public but the manor may be rented out for holidays. Various properties offer part as holiday accommodation but this is the first which has swapped its heritage function for a commercial function. The thin edge of the wedge perhaps. The manor can accommodate 12 people but we have no information on cost. A weekend in period costume for 12 friends would probably be fun. It is location of the 20 volunteer servants which may be difficult.
The garden has many fruits and vegetables which interest Ro but we soon have completed  our tour of the property and move on.
The abbey opposite must have been an impressive building in its day and probably for some centuries thereafter. Now it is a ruin with some roof still intact some carved windows still standing in walls supported by flying buttresses, and various columns to hint at its past glory.  We can view that from a distance without the need to walk around the remains.
The Harmony gardens have a sister garden also near the abbey and we spend half an hour looking through that. The abbey still imposes its presence over the tall garden wall. There are many fruit trees, some of apple species dating back to Roman times when the Romans did not like the local crab apples so brought their own species. The garden was a major supplier of fruit during WW2.
There is a viaduct and bridge nearby where we have our morning coffee. The viaduct presumably once carried a railway line. It sits on 15 30 metre high columns with arches between.  It no longer carries a train but it will be standing for centuries to come as a monument to 19th century engineering, much like the Falkirk wheel will do for 21st century engineering.
We have looked at all we had to see in the Borders Region so now head for the English border. Passing into Northumberland we drive to Brinkburn Priory which our English Heritage book says is open until 5  today. However a sign on the fence reports different days from the 2014 Heritage book. Another sign on the gate says “If the gate is closed, the Priory is too.” It does not say what happens if one side of the gate is open and the other is half closed. Ro decides that it is mostly open to completes the final third whereby a man comes and tersely says the priory is closed.
Next is Belsay Hall which closes at 6. We  will just get there by 4.30 so should have an hour or so  there. Wrong!  A detour has us going hither and yon. Without looking a gift horse in the mouth as we have seen neither hither nor yon, we are going to miss Belsay Hall. We arrive as they are taking in their signs half an hour before closing time. We do have an ulterior motive as we would like to stay in the carpark before visiting tomorrow but we are politely told to bugger off; not exactly those words.
We find a rather fetching piece of asphalt next to a not-too-busy road and that will be our overnighter.
After tomorrow, we are heading back to Beamish, the living museum we visited last year and thoroughly enjoyed. Wednesday is forecast to be 23 degrees and dry. Last year was closer to 35 which was a bit unpleasant in 1800s buildings and vehicles.

Tuesday 15th  July 2014 :Belsay  , England

The sound of mowing is this morning’s wake up alarm. Belsay Manor opens at 10  and it is now approaching that time. Perhaps we will have breakfast there.
No one else is in the car park so we will park end on to minimise the sun glare while we have breakfast but expecting  someone to ask us to park the other way before we have finished  breakfast. In fact the someone appears  the moment we turn off the engine. We explain the  situation and that we expected to move after our breakfast. He is very friendly and apologetic for inconveniencing us and suggests we could park in another area to which he directs us.
After breakfast in our relocated position we enter the stables which are now the shop and ticketing office. I have a chat with our friendly relocation officer while Ro gets a rundown on the walks available from a lady with a curious accent and even more curious manner.
The Middleton family have owned the site for 700 years, prior to donating it to English Heritage mainly due to the horrendous upkeep costs. The family lived in  Belsay Castle until 1820 or thereabouts. The castle had been updated up until 1809 when the then owner decided to build the manor. Despite having no architectural training, he designed a remarkable building with heavy Greek influences. When it was completed around 1820, the family abandoned the castle for the new residence.
It is this manor which we can explore.  It is interesting in that there is no furniture, carpets or curtains. When acquired by English Heritage, the building was in poor repair. What we now see is a number of renovated rooms still without furniture and a number of rooms in poor repair. It gives an idea of what an undertaking repair of the whole building would be.
The castle and manor were built from stone quarried within a few hundred meters. The castle is on one side of the quarry and the manor on the other.  The builder of the manor was also keen on gardens so transformed the quarry into a garden which wanders down the ravines created by the rock removal. The result today is like a lush tropical environment with greenery growing up the rocks and large trees growing from crevices in the rocks. The towering rocks remind us of Umbrawarra Gorge in Northern Territory which we loved.
At the end of the Quarry Garden we reach the castle. After 200 years, it is just a ruin however  the out buildings are in good condition. The castle had been updated prior to building the manor and we can climb up to various levels  by a medieval stone spiral staircase. A relatively recent outbreak of dry rot and woodworm caused failure of timber flooring  which is a shame because the building would have been quite interesting as it had been  modified to be a comfortable residence.
Returning via another Quarry walk, we have some soup in the tea rooms before  continuing to our camp site near  Beamish. We stayed there about this time last year and we know it will be enjoyable.
We arrive by 5 pm to find a birthday party underway: the same birthday girl as last year! I spend some time chatting with the revellers while Ro  enjoys the luxury of hair washing under a decent shower.    

Wednesday 16th  July 2014 :Cornsay  ,England

Beamish today.  Our plan is to arrive by 10 am, the opening time, so we can have a full day there. Remarkably we realise our plan, arriving by 2 or 3 minutes past 10.
Despite the fact we have year passes from last year, we still have to queue in the “Pre Purchased” queue. It is only a 5 minute wait and we are into the 300 acre historical park.
All transport rides are included in the admission ticket. However, the 6 or 7 buses at the gate and dozens of cars mean there are hundreds of people at the bus/tram stop. Rather than wait for  a vehicle, we walk toward the farm. Along the way a hiss of steam and a whistle distract us and our first ride is on the replica of Stevenson’s Puffing Billy. Externally it looks authentic but under the greasy and dirty timber barrel is a modern coal fired multi tube boiler providing the steam. Other than that we could be in the early 19th century.
After a 300 metre trip up and back along the track segment, we walk to the original farm which was present when the land was acquired in the 1970s. Although we saw most of the museum last year, we enjoy seeing some things again and discovering new things. Most areas we can wander around without barricades to prevent entry and attendants dressed in period attire work at tasks appropriate to the period while answering questions posed by the tourists. Despite the large number of people at the entrance, the size of the museum thins them out into manageable groups in the various buildings and vehicles.
Next we ride a tram to the village. The trams this year are different from those of last year as they change on a daily basis because of the large numbers available in the tram shed. The village now has a bakery which was being constructed last year. More correctly, it was being reconstructed last year as all buildings in Beamish have been deconstructed from somewhere else in England to avoid indiscriminate demolition of heritage buildings.
Our day is spent revisiting things we enjoyed from last year and viewing a number of new buildings  and areas we missed last year; although in our two days last year we did see most things.
By 3.30 we are ready to return to the same camp site as last night. Tomorrow is expected to be sunny so we will have a day of relaxation and recharging of our immune systems with some sunbeams on our skin.. Back at the camp site, the birthday party of last night has spilled into today so we spend another hour talking before returning to the van for dinner. The wind is blowing outside and it sounds rather cold. But we are warm inside, looking forward to some sunshine tomorrow.

Thursday 17th  July 2014 :Cornsay  , England

As forecast, the morning is cloudless. We have scheduled a rest day today. Just the day to wash the van and install a fan in the bathroom.
In between times there is plenty of time for reading and getting some sun.
Fitting the fan is the usual 10 minute job which takes 2 hours. When we test it at night, we find an unexpected bonus. There are blue and red LEDs which the fan interrupts creating an interesting pattern a bit like our apartment in Paris. This is very appropriate because the fan was wombled from a computer which  was on the pavement in Paris two years ago. We can  now accurately say we have  made wombling an art form!
Late afternoon we join the continuous party again. Today it is Gin and Tonic with Chinese. Apart from the food and drinks, it is exactly what we had planned for our evening.
Ro takes her leave and goes for a walk. She returns a bit later and says the sauna is hot so we both excuse ourselves and head for the sauna. After cooking for 20 minutes, the pool, which is only about 19 degrees, seems rather more palatable so we swim for a bit before dinner.
As dinner is cooking, there is just time to vacuum the van as it currently looks like a snowstorm has hit inside. In fitting the fan, part of the wall needed to be drilled and the polystyrene inside the walls managed to get everywhere.  Vacuuming may seem like a simple thing but the machine we have is tiny to suit the van. As such, the 1100 watt motor generates a lot of heat. One has to continuously monitor the temperature to avoid burning out the motor. The smell from it does not give much clue. The machine has smelt like it was on its last legs for three years now. But it is still working.
Tomorrow we get back to the stately homes trail before visiting a gentleman we met last year near Nottingham.

Friday 18th  July 2014 :Nottingham , England

We have a 2 hour drive in front of us to reach Brodsworth Hall which opens at 10 so we aim to leave our campsite by 8. We achieve 8.20 which is not too bad given our questionable track record thus far. We are glad we said our ‘goodbyes’ last night as there is only one person up and about when we depart. Actually two, one of whom closes the gate for us.
We have chosen fastest route as ‘Avoid Motorways’ is 40 minutes longer. The only pleasure in motorway travel is the orderly way in which drivers here use them.  It is a joy to behold. Because the van is a bit underpowered, timing is critical. Any lost inertia means the passing strategy collapses into chaos. Approaching a slow truck (they have to be slow to be slower than us) on a 3 lane carriageway, with correct timing I can pull into the second lane and a faster motorist in the second lane behind can pull into the third lane. Some alert drivers will pull into the third lane, anticipating my need to pull into the second lane and making life easy for me. If only freeways worked the same in Australia. It helps here that passing on the inside lane is illegal unless a vehicle is turning right. Bring it in in Australia, I say!
My motorway elation finishes as we arrive at  Brodsworth Hall.about 10.30. It turns out that the house does not open until 1pm so we have morning tea in the van.  After a couple of false starts due to thunder, lightening and rain which we had not anticipated, requiring return to the van for wet weather gear, we enter the grounds.. We discover that there is a guided tour at 12 for which we book. That leaves us with 40 minutes to look at the gardens. This seems less than enjoyable as it is raining quite a bit, but fortunately the rain stops to be gradually replaced by a blue sky. We can’t complain as we have only had a few wet days since we arrived in UK.   
This stately home amazingly was built in just 18 months from about 1860 following the owner’s inheritance of 50 million pounds. Understandable that he might build a house , really.  We did not hear whether it was 50 million then or in today’s equivalent value. The difference is somewhat academic.
The house is original and in mostly very good condition. Carpets, wallpapers, curtains etc are those fitted in 1860. Apart from fading in various areas, the furnishings are in generally excellent condition. Some furniture shows the ravages of time but other pieces are pristine.
There is a nice homely feel which is usually absent in other houses intended to impress. Not that this house would have other than impressed.
The tour lasts about 40 minutes then we are free to explore the house by ourselves. We looked at most downstairs rooms on the tour. Upstairs are bedrooms again in varying states of disrepair. Even those in the worst condition are still quite liveable. Many have been used as storage rooms; the items within are treasures in themselves. English Heritage, as mentioned before, consider the approach appropriate for each acquisition. In this case their approach was purely one of conservation. The last resident family member in 1980s lived in two or three rooms  as upkeep and running costs were prohibitive. English Heritage has kept the property unaltered from when she left in 1988. In one room we see a toboggan, skis, skates, stuffed birds and all kinds of things one would put in a ‘junk’ room. But these things have been there for many decades. In the servants quarters, which are quite extensive and comfortable, we see ancient Exectrolux vacuum cleaners. This is like a snapshot in history; admittedly relatively recent history.
There is a point at which one says ‘ENOUGH’  and once we reach that point we exit for a bit more garden exploration. Among the wonderful pleasures to be found are an extensive  rock garden and an area used in WWII as a rifle range when the house was requisitioned by the army.
By 3 we are ready to continue. It is an hour to our campsite which is one we visited last year, when we met a charming 80 something gentleman whom we said we would try to visit this year.
The only slight problem is the postcode is once again not quite right. We find in England that the setup of suburbs is rather confusing. One moment we are in rolling pastures; we take a left down an inauspicious laneway and suddenly we are in suburbia complete with nature strips, footpaths and suburban dwellings. It all seems a bit strange. Conversely, we can turn down the same type of inauspicious lane and find semi rural allotments. But not entirely unlike Laburnum in Melbourne come to think of it.
Thus we drive along a fairly busy road, looking for a turnoff which may be a driveway, a laneway  or some other entrance. We don’t find it. Fortunately we remember a second entrance which runs off the driveway to historic Newstead Abbey. The narrow laneway looks familiar and we find our campsite.   

Saturday 19th  July 2014 :Papplewick  , England

Ro in her continuing role as itinerary planner has found a property about half an hour away which has a riding school in the Lipazana tradition. They give exhibitions on Saturday and Sundays for only 1 pound per person for English Heritage members. We missed out seeing the Vienna Lipazanas as their were no shows when we were there so this will go some way to make up.
We want to be first in line as we have been told they fill up quickly. We are there at opening time and are probably first to get tickets. We did not need to hurry as the show at 11 turns out to be  far from crowded.    
We have an hour to look over the property before the show. The stables where the ménage is housed was built by Lord Charles Cavendish in the 1600s for schooling of horses for battle. However the barbaric theatre in which they would have to operate was in no way mirrored in the treatment they received when being trained. Cavendish was highly critical of the way in which horses were trained so wrote a book which is still the foundation of training for  dressage today. He emphasised calming of the horse before requiring it to learn or perform its moves. He trained the horses to understand that the stick used by the trainer is an extension of his hand, not an instrument of punishment and fear.
At the opposite end of the stables is an exhibition explaining Cavendish and his life. He was a well rounded person and had many interests including various scientific and literary pursuits.  There is a film which I imagine would have met with Cavendish’s approval. It certainly met with mine. It used various cinematic techniques to display appropriate images with short written  comments to give the images relevance. Images swirled or symmetrically folded into view in front of the viewer, aided by evocative music and some sound effects. It seemed to encapsulate the image we had formed of the man from the exhibition. Maybe a communication across the ages, albeit from a modern day perspective.
From the stables we walk to the ruin of the building primarily built to impress the reigning monarch, Charles I, who visited twice in two years . There are panels suggesting how the building would have looked in the 1600s but even without these suggested images, it is obvious that it would have been an impressive building. Even the kitchens were state of the art with multiple ovens still clearly defined. The building achievements of the period still never fail to impress.
Returning to the stables, it is showtime. We are ushered into a tiered seating area where we are told what we will see. The horses and riders will perform several exercises followed by pauses while the next exercise is explained.
Two horses enter the arena. Their riders are dressed as cavaliers in black with wide brimmed, feathered hats, golden gloves and red sashes. The saddles are like armchairs, designed by Cavendish. Needless to say, the horses are groomed to perfection and throughout their performance have their ears pricked, suggesting to us a voluntary involvement by them in the show.
An important part of their performance is their ability to walk diagonally. This involves strengthening their muscles to allow this unnatural movement. The horse is trained by encouraging it to walk against a wall at a 45 degree angle. The first few exercises demonstrate this. It is termed ‘shoulder in’.
A short pause and the next exercise is movement around a pole. The horse is trained to place its head or rump toward the pole inscribing a small circle while the opposite end inscribes a  much larger circle. The point  of this exercise was so that in battle, the rider never had his back to his opponent, a major advantage.
We are shown other exercises intended to intimidate the enemy. However the thing which is most strongly conveyed is the rapport between rider and horse. There are no obvious signs of direction to the horses but later discussion with the riders  enlightens us; it is purely weight movements by the rider.
Ro is captivated by the horses  and the gentleness of the riders, as am I. She tells the charming rider that it brought tears to her eyes. The show lasts about 30 minutes and we leave feeling elated.
It has started raining lightly as we walk to the Little Castle, built by Cavendish not for defence but to impress. English Heritage has spent a lot of money recreating the original  decor  in a number of rooms. The castle is spread over 4 levels and we spend an hour or so exploring everything on show.
When we exit at 2 pm, it has started to rain more heavily. We walk along a Wall Walk around the formal garden before returning to the van. By now the rain is quite heavy and we need to change our clothes. Just one more advantage of our Escargot de Wheels.
The drive back to our campsite near Papplewick is through quite heavy rain. Once we are set up again, there is a tremendous downpour for 15 or 20 minutes and we pleased that the van is watertight. On some occasions in previous years, this has not been the case.
Once the rain stops, we have a sauna and a swim before turning in for the night.

Sunday 20th  July 2014 :Papplewick  ,England

There is more rain during the night but it is clear by the morning. We have a swim before breakfast and I have a spa.
We are meeting Roy, our 80 something  year old friend  about 10am. He arrives by 9.30 with flowers and chocolates for Ro. His wife died about 12 years ago and last year he asked if there are more like Ro in Australia.  Unfortunately his car was in for repair yesterday so he could not join us and today we have said we need to leave by 11. But he is keen to talk and we don’t leave until 1. He is an interesting person with a lot of varied occupations over the years.  We promise to ring him as we set off for Kenilworth, this afternoon’s destination before heading for Swansea tomorrow.
The drive is about 1 hour 40 but we stop along the way for lunch so arrive about 3.30.The book says  It closes at 5 but on arrival we find it is 6 so we have plenty of time.
Ro’s main interest is the Elizabethan gardens which are claimed to be the best of that period in Britain. Mind you, there is a fair bit of marketing hype in Trust and Heritage books. Most properties have ‘the best….’ something, whether it be  ‘ the best cast iron cistern pull  chain’ or the ‘best nasal hair removal implement’ in Britain or even the world. So it remains to be seen what this actually means.
Initially we park at the wrong end of the property. Although slightly annoying, we walk past wonderful pubs and cottages in the village before returning to drive to the correct  entrance.  It is a Pay and Display but the amount we pay is refunded by English Heritage. Thus at the ticket office, we are charged nothing for entry but refunded 2 pounds. If we can find more places like this we might come home with a profit.
First to the Elizabethan garden. It’s not bad. Later we see a picture of what they started with, absolutely nothing but a foundation or two, and it becomes more impressive. It is actually an archaeological and historical marvel. They were aided by an extremely accurate written description from the period which the foundations verified. What is there today is said to be the most complete and accurate example of gardens of this time. Interestingly, most of the balustrades etc are of timber rather than stone, with the exception of a marble fountain which is a masterpiece of masonry.
We continue to the only building, apart from the stables,  on the site not in a ruined state. It was used up until relatively recently as a house and is decorated as it was in 1930s. However it has relics from the other buildings which were used from time to time as royal residences built by  Robert Dudley, a favourite of Elizabeth 1.
By 6 we are ready to leave. We have no campsite planned for tonight but will find something on the way to Whitley  Court and Gardens, our highlight for tomorrow before driving to Swansea.
Our overnighter ends up being a laneway next to an abandoned church. Its last occupant was a Decorative Metalworker/Blacksmith. All that fire seems a bit sus.

Monday 21st  July 2014 :Worcestershire  , England

Bright sunshine greets us. After a leisurely breakfast we are on the road to Witley Court about 40 minutes away.
This stately home is, unfortunately,  a shell, having suffered a disastrous fire in 1937. Prior to that it was a place of pleasure and frivolity if you were born to that station. Otherwise you may have been part of the 100 staff who saw to the daily running, which among other things required feeding 30 tonns per day of coal in to boilers and fires.
The  property is grand in the true meaning of the word. The lake, gardens, fountains  and conservatory complement the grandeur of the house. Unfortunately the 1937 fire destroyed one wing and the repair cost could not be justified. Over the next 10 years the house had all contents and building materials of value removed, including the roof, and the shell was left to the elements. It was saved from demolition in the 1960s when its value, even as a ruin, was recognised. Once English Heritage took over management it started the painstaking work of re establishing the magnificent grounds and stabilizing the walls.
Walking through the building, the grandeur is easily envisioned. There are some panels with photographs and descriptions. The ballroom which was gutted still shows evidence of the fire in charred timber used to attach wall surfaces.
The owners in the late 19th century owned 200 coal mines and the fortune generated by these was in part used to upgrade the Court to the tune of 100 million pounds in today’s terms. That amount of money buys a lot  of sprucing up. In the 1930s the property was purchased by a self made carpet  millionaire. However he only used part of the mansion and sold the estate for 4000 pounds following the fire.
While the mansion stands as ruined walls, the gardens have been recreated  in their original splendour. Two huge  ponds dominate, one of which contains a fountain which  is operated on the hour, sending a 30 meter jet of water into the air among the smaller jets . The manicured lawns and perfectly recreated formal gardens complete the stunning effect. Peering out from the building, the scene we see is the same as would have been in its heyday.  
By 3 we are on the road again toward Swansea where we will visit friends. Fortunately traffic is not heavy and we arrive by 5.15 pm.
We are looking forward to a real bed. But first we walk to a local carvery where we have an enjoyable meal. Later we walk back in the still warm evening. After talking for some time, we have a spa before turning in around midnight. The evening is quite warm and humid, reminiscent of summer nights at home  but minus insects. It is fairly normal weather for us, but not so normal for here.

Tuesday 22nd  July 2014 :Swansea  , Wales

Our friends have kindly suggested we drive about 30 miles to the Welsh National History Museum, called St Fagans,  which is a working outdoor museum similar to Beamish. I had wanted to pay for dinner last night but our hosts would not allow it. Instead  I insist on paying the entry fee for today and they agree. However they know  it is free. Well at least I can pay the parking fee. But they have a permit which gives them free parking.  Unless they hand out free sandwich packs at the gate, I will pay for lunch.
First we l walk around the place a bit. The museum was actually started in 1948, probably 30 years earlier than Beamish and aims to do the same thing but with an emphasis on  Walsh history. Unlike Beamish, there is no transport around the park, other than two carriages pulled by a large tractor. Paths join the various building of which farm cottages are the majority.
We start with a small farm which has rude furniture, low ceilngs and smells strongly of smoke. The smell of smoke is a common theme in the farm cottages and miners’ cottages. Peat, coal and wood were all used as  fuels.
After an hour of strolling around the park we go for lunch. Finally I can actually pay for something. After lunch consisting of soup, wraps and cold drinks, we continue our exploration. Although our friends have been here before, it was some years ago and buildings are being continually built so there are new things for them to see.
A few hundred meters  away is a mill which is still weaving fabrics which we can buy. The welsh man explains various things to us but his welsh undulating inflection together with a quiet voice means we could really do with an interpreter. When I ask if the mill is water powered he points to the other end and says that is but the loom in this room is ‘me powered’.
We decide to separate and meet at 4.30 back at the entrance building. Our next hour and a half is spent looking at miners’ cottages, a 1950s fairground, shops of late 19th century and a Workmen’s Institute which was completed recently. All buildings have been relocated  to save them from demolition. The Workmen’s Institute has been faithfully recreated and is now used for various functions when the park is closed.
Opposite the Institute is a fenced off area with a large photograph of the next project, a pub, the Vulcan Hotel. It is shown in its present decayed state but we can get an impression of how it will look when completed.
By 5 we are on the road returning to Swansea. The traffic is quite heavy on the freeway, helping us to feel less homesick. A traffic jam on one freeway is much the same everywhere. We could be in Melbourne right now
We spend the evening talking over a salad dinner then have a spa before bed.

Wednesday 23rd  July 2014 :Swansea  ,England

We take our time getting up, having breakfast and farewelling our friends.
We are headed for the Giant Chalk Horse at Bratten Camp. It is a few hours driving , along the usual narrow, hedge lined roads. However the extra work which driving on these roads involves  is much better than the soulless motorways.
We arrive at the horse by 4.30.  The car park is at the top of a broad flat  hill. Following the signs toward the horse, a wide vista to a wonderful valley opens up. Patchwork fields of various hues are bordered by green hedges. The sun is behind us so the view to the horse is excellent.
The horse was originally carved into the  chalk cliffs probably  in the 1700s most likely for  celebration  a battle victory. Because overgrowth had to periodically be removed, in the 1950s the horse was rendered in white cement. Not quite the done thing today in terms of conservation, however it does  define the horse which is more than could  be said for the Cerne Abbas man.
We send an hour enjoying the scenery  before returning to the van. It looks like we can spend the night here so we will wait until someone tells us otherwise. The only disconcerting element is trailbikes which noisily traverse up and back along the road until 9.30pm. Then they either tire of their pursuit or are called home by their mummies. Silence descends.          

Thursday 24th  July 2014 :Westbury  , England

It proves to be a nice overnight spot and we enjoy another walk to the horse before breakfast with the area to ourselves.
Basildon Park is our next waypoint. We arrive there by  1.pm and walk the 300 metres to the mansion.
Imposing Palladian columns rise from a first floor balcony which is the entrance. Inside, a large entrance hall leads to a light filled stairwell. Below the stairs is a grand piano with an invitation to play.
We explore a grand dining room and a less grand  drawing room which has original sketches of a religious tapestry designed for Covenrty Cathedral, rebuilt along  modern lines after damage sustained in WWII. There is a photograph of the actual tapestry but it does not hold great appeal for us. It might not appeal to Christ either as he looks rather like a wasp in white fabric. Mind you WASPs were fashionable then.
Ro accepts the notice’s invitation and plays for 20 minutes, to the delight of onlookers. She  plays classical pieces which are very appropriate for the surroundings. I get a lot of enjoyment from her playing and I miss her piano playing as much as she misses playing her piano.
We continue through the house and end up watching a video to which we should have been directed at the start.
There is an exhibition showing some aspects of filming of the series Downton Abbey, inside scenes of which were filmed here. We watch another short video and look at a few wall charts showing what was removed and what was kept for the filming.
A quick walk around the gardens and we are on our way to our campsite about a hour away. We find our campsite and settle in. The site has a pool, saua,  spa and lovely grounds.
As we walk down to the pool for a refreshing swim, a small group calls out “Bon Soir”. We are used to that because of our French number plates. Ro  calls out “we are not French, we are Australian”. They are disappointed at the lost opportunity to practice their French. We say they can still practice but we won’t understand it. However we can converse in Australian. ‘Kanga-bloody-roo…….see, we  know Australian” is the response. After a friendly interchange we walk on, but just that little bit taller, knowing their high regard for our culture.

Friday 25th  July 2014 :Crowthorne  , England

We are  due at our friends home in Sidcup today but want to travel via Polesden Lacey, a National Trust property. It is a nice sunny morning so we take our time packing up.
It is an hour and a half trip to the property and we arrive around 2 pm. However it is raining quite heavily so we eat lunch in the van before donning our Big Bus ponchos from Dublin last year and making our way to the manor.
Last year we were impressed with what Bess of Hardwick had achieved in the 16th century and in many ways the owner of this property, Mrs Greville, had a similar story.
She was the illegitimate daughter of a woman of not very high status born in Edinburgh. However her biological father was a wealthy brewery owner .who left her his empire.  When Edinburgh society rejected her because of her illegitimacy and maternal parentage , Mrs Greville headed south and formed many society connections including the Prince of Wales. She became the toast of English society. With the money she earned from the brewery she built Polesden Lacey which became renowned for lavish parties and weekends. All the while she had a hand in the running of the brewery and built on its success.
When Scots aristocracy visited, she relegated them to the less opulent parts of the mansion. However, while she was considered the epitome of snobbery at the aristocracy level, she related well to her serving staff and treated them with respect. Her  personal maid was a close associate and Mrs Greville introduced as her personal secretary. On Mrs Greville’s death, it was her maid who was granted sole use of her apartments at Polesden Lacey. Such were her social connections  that a significant number of her jewellery pieces were bequeathed to the royal family and are still worn by the Queen. She was a remarkable woman.
Our tour of the house starts with a video upstairs. The bedrooms are comfortable without being overly opulent.   Without wishing to be obvious, the downstairs storey is another story. The dining room is magnificent with a large table for 20 or so guests. On the other side of the property, below Mrs Greville’s apartments is a lovely library but the piece de resistance  is the Gold Room. It was designed by the architects of the Ritz to be fit for a maharaja. Some find it too over the top but we like it. But the most appealing aspect is the Steinway piano. A quick question to the volunteer attendant as to whether it is still played and an invitation to play is issued. I decline but accept for Ro. She plays for 20 minutes to the appreciation of all in attendance. She is becoming used to playing at such venues, and the music she plays is always received with gratitude.
We finish our tour of the house, looking at a billiard room and plush hallways before walking through the formal gardens and kitchen gardens.
It is approaching 5pm . It will be 6 before we reach Sidcup. We ring ahead to flag our later-than-expected arrival but do not allow for the diabolical M25 cartway, laughingly termed a motorway. It is walking pace for 5 miles. And we are later told that we should count ourselves lucky it was  only 5 miles of traffic.
It is 6.30 when we pull up at their home. We are pleased to arrive and enjoy a beautiful barbeque. However the concept of ‘throw a shrimp on the barbie’ is not what happens here. The spread on the barbie includes steak, scallops, gourmet patties, corn, peppers, mushroom and more.  
After a very enjoyable evening we turn in. Although our friends have prepared a bed for us, Ro has become used to sleeping in her van bed so we sleep there in the drive. But tonight Ro has done several loads of washing and drying  so everything is fresh and clean.  Luxury!

Saturday 26th  July 2014 : Sidcup , England

Our friends , Allan and Janice, are committed this morning so we will go to tonight’s campsite where they will join us. There is a disco on tonight and  we will meeting them just before that.
With a lot of fast talking we manage to talk Janice out of cooking a full English breakfast, opting instead for muesli and toast. It seems that full English breakfasts are not generally eaten by the English but by tourists wanting to try a full English breakfast.
By mid morning we decamp to tonight’s site where we re-camp under a tree. Unfortunately our unintended subterfuge is remarkably successful when Janice calls us late afternoon wondering where we are.  Having confided our hiding place under a shady tree, we go for drinkies with some of their friends. There we play a game of hammer the nail into the tree stump. While the committed DIY, as I am,  will think easy peasy, the trick is that the arm and wrist must be straight. It is a German game which somehow makes sense. A 75mm flat head nail must be hammered into the tree stump so that the head is entirely flush. Sounds simple bit the execution is otherwise.  Males tend to smash the hammer down, missing the nail and increasing the depth to which the nail needs to be buried. Females gently tap the nail and often win, a la tortoise and hare.    
We have an impromptu dinner with Allan and Janice then meet later at the disco. Things are a bit quiet in the dancing department until Ro asks the DJ for Nutbush.If that doesn’t get people going, nothing will. What we have not allowed for is that no one in this group seems to know Nutbush, so Ro and I lead the group all be it one beat apart.  Next we follow them as  they do Macarana and other group dances . I slink off when no one is watching. But it does get things going.
We bail out about midnight and have a restful night under our tree.  

Sunday 27th  July 2014 :Orpington  , England

Allan and Janice wander over about 10 to see what we will do today. The weather does not look very good so we decide to visit Darwin’s house, about 8 miles away in Down.
When we get to Down, we are thankful we have not got the van. While we would have coped, the streets are very narrow and riding as a passenger in a saloon is rather more tranquil.
We learn a lot about Darwin the man. We are obviously familiar with his concepts in ‘Origins of the Species’ but the house is about the family, religious and social influences which surrounded the ground breaking treatise.
His father was a wealthy doctor and Darwin never had any requirement to work. He was undistinguished at University, not completing his medical degree possibly due to his lack of need for income. His voyage on the Beagle lasting 5 years kindled his interest in matters both botanical and biological. Over 20 years he formulated his treatise and only published on the advice of colleagues  when another  scientist, Alfred Wallace, wrote to him expounding almost the identical theory.  
Needless to say, Darwin’s book met with opposition from the church and even Darwin’s wife, a devout Christian, feared they  may be separated in the hereafter. Surely an unlikely event as he was branded a heretic by many.
We walk through his  extensive gardens,  see some of the sites of his experiments and walk the track he used for contemplation. Unfortunately, try as I might, no pearls of wisdom materialise as I pound the track.
Returning to our camp site, we farewell Janice and Allan until February when they will visit us in Australia.
We have a quiet evening reading  and  writing memoirs.

Monday 28th  July 2014 :Orpington  , England

Leaving by 10 we travel to Eltham Palace, a medieval building which was added to in the Art Deco style in 1930s by the Courtaulds, a family whose wealth came from the fabric industry..
The building was added to a chapel which was part of a medieval royal castle. In the 1840s the chapel was used as a stable and the  magnificent hammer-beam  timber roof was in poor repair and held up by large timber supports.
The chapel now forms one wing onto which was added the 1930s ultra modern art deco building.  We enter under a reclined statue of Hospitality over the doorway .The entrance way then  opens onto a 20 metre diameter room with Australian blackbean panelled walls. The ceiling has a 6 metre  diameter concrete dome with 100s of 100mm circular glass lenses which fill the room with natural light. Two large rooms lead open off the circular room  with two staircases to the upper level.
Furnishings are art deco and effect it must have had in the 30s is readily apparent. Exploring the upper level we see bedrooms and bathrooms of the period. Vivian Courtaulds’ bathroom is finished in marble and gold tiles and a marble statue of Psyche.
A walk in the garden completes our visit and we return to the van just as it starts to rain.
Our campsite is one hour away. However, on arrival, we cannot gain entry as we have not booked. Instead we return to Thursday’s campsite but not without doing battle with the infamous M25 again.
Tomorrow is promised to be a sunny day so we plan to rest for the day.   

Tuesday 29th  July 2014 :Crowthorne  , England

The promised fine day eventuates and we spend the day reading, swimming in the beautifully warm pool and generally lazing about.
There is the opportunity to fix a window catch and alter some wiring. The latter becomes a lost opportunity as the joy of a day of leisure overtakes us.
Back to the tourist trail tomorrow.

Wednesday 30th  July 2014 :Crowthorne  , England

Kenwood today. This home was owned and donated to the state by Arthur Guinness, of stout fame.
We do a bit of food shopping first then continue toward the house. Just before,  the house and grounds is a an obviously disadvantaged area but adjoining that is a street with multi million pound houses.  Then there is Kenwood which is grand in an 18th fashion but the amazing thing is the grounds which surround the house. The multi million pound houses are on small tracts of land whereas Kenwood goes on for miles.
There is rather limited parking so we opt for the small park within the grounds. The site is free entry, presumably a condition made by Guinness, but the park is pay and display whether we are members of English Heritage or not. We do not immediately rush for the machine but instead have lunch in the van. This illicits a knock on the door from a friendly parking warden.  It is 4 pounds for 4 hours or 2 pounds 50 for 2. Unfortunately we only have 3 pounds 97 of change and the machine is rather intransigent. It is 2 hours or 4 hours. Nothing else. The warden can’t help with the 3 pence and suggests we park outside. We opt for 2 hours expecting this will not be enough time.  
The main attraction of the mansion is the paintings also bequeathed by Guinness.  From the way the paintings cover every square inch of a huge house, this guy was a bit OC. Although paintings are the focus of most rooms, there is a library which has been conserved to its original 18th century splendour. The problem is that we have seen so many that to trigger another ‘wow’ takes something quite special.  This one is borderline wow tinged with ho hum.
The paintings follow in the same vein. Exiting the house we stroll around the gardens but end up leaving the car park before our 2 hours are up.
Our camp site tonight is about a hour away. We arrive by late afternoon and have a swim in a pool which is solar heated but still a bit cool. We chat with a Dutch couple who give us some information about Norway and Sweden, next year’s intended destination. It is our intention to stay here tomorrow night but our plans change when we ring Mavis and Terry, our Hadleigh friends, and discover they leave for France Saturday. We will visit them tomorrow night instead.

Thursday 31st  July 2014 :Chalfont St Peter  , England

Audley End is sort of on the way to Hadleigh in the same way Scotland is sort of on the way to Wales. Rather a loose justification but it is all we have.
It is a 2 hour trip by motorway with some on the dreaded M25 with which we have done battle before. But this time we are in luck and there are only a couple of very minor holdups.
We arrive at Audley End by 11 and are ushered to the cricket pitch for parking by a friendly attendant who greets us with the usual ‘Bon Jour’ We reply ‘gday mate’ and offer the usual explanation. Next year we may print a laminated card to hand out.
The  cricket pitch is on the far side of a waterbird filled river. On this side are stables and working gardens which we visit first. The stables are  working stables, more for demonstration purposes than practical ones. There are three horses; one ex racing horse, one gymkhana pony and one draught horse. All are placid horses and the riders tell us a bit about each. There is to be a gymkhana exhibition at 1 pm so we will look around the extensive gardens until then.
The walled kitchen garden is immense and has been recreated by English Heritage. It includes many rows  of espaliered fruits from century old varieties.  The growing was assisted in the 19th century by boilers which artificially kept the green houses at appropriate temperatures. The below ground boiler rooms have been excavated so the original brickwork is clearly visible. The boilers and pipework have long since been scrapped.
By 1 pm we are at the ménage for the horse show. It features  Jimmy the 17 hand ex race horse. He is a big horse and the diminutive rider uses a platform to mount. She gives a commentary on control of the horse, does some trotting and cantering   around poles and breaks some balloons with a lance.  After 15 minutes or so, we continue  our walk on to the house, adrenaline coursing through our veins.
Only one third of the original mansion remains. It is still three massive floors but once had an extensive courtyard surrounded by other massive buildings. Thomas Audley built the mansion initially but Thomas Howard, his heir, extensively rebuilt the estate in 1604   through embezzlement of money from  James 1st. Somehow he escaped execution when the king discovered the fraud but the fine imposed took 150 years to pay off. Maybe he had dirt on the king, but not enough.
Before reaching the house, the service buildings provide a glimpse into the 19th century. The dairy and laundry have been faithfully recreated with panels  explaining roles people had. Life in these quarters would have been hard.
From there, we enter the house through a huge entrance hall with masses of Jacobean wood carvings. We get a short talk by a very enthusiastic  volunteer who goes through the lineage from  Audley and the rise and fall of the estate. We ascend stairs to the first floor to  the Drawing Room at which the king held court on visits. We make the mistake of asking a volunteer a lineage question and 15 minutes later are still getting the answer. The volunteer uses some form of circular breathing to ensure there are no breaks for us to make our escape. Eventually we interrupt and she hurries off, probably in the knowledge we are about to turn into stone.
Two rooms on is a library; with a grand piano!  We had noticed in literature that pianists were welcome to play so Ro, stately home piano junkie she is, plays to the appreciation of attendants and visitors alike. Once again she is invited back any time she likes.
Continuing through more grand rooms  then up to the next floor, we see a coal gallery where coal was hauled through an open window every six months. This was used to keep fires burning in winter months. The nursery contains a doll’s house which is almost as palatial as the mansion itself.
We are getting  a bit stately outed by now so make our way back to the van. We have one hour  drive to Hadleigh, assuming the motorways flow well.
By  6 pm we are drinking  a hot drink while chatting to Mavis and Terry before going out for a pub dinner.; at the 17th century Barge Inn. Not your typical Australian local.
On our return we  have a lovely shower in Terry and Mavis’s home.  Once again, we are used to our van beds so refuse Mavis’s kind offer of an inside bed.

Friday 1st August 2014 :Hadleigh  , England

Our plans have not been quite finalised so we bid Mavis and Terry farewell as they need to go to go a job before leaving for France. Our attempt to book a ferry to France is thwarted then the on line system won’t accept our payment. The solution is to drive to Dover and buy a ticket there. But before that we need to get some cash for Mavis for our van insurance and some gas for the van and a few other odds and ends.
Arriving at Dover about 3pm  we are dismayed to hear that they are full up to pussy’s bow (the official terminology may have been slightly different) for the next few days. We are invited to try our luck in the booking office. Fortunately, while they do not generally issue tickets there, our plight a la credit card rejection allows us to purchase for Sunday 10 pm. We have two days to kill.
Last year we parked above the White Cliffs and went walking toward a light house some kilometres away. We did not reach it then so we will try to this year.
The gates close at 7 so we park just outside in a car park. It takes about an hour to get to the lighthouse which, we learn on our return walk from a friendly dog walker, was the place where Marconi tested his wireless signals to a ship in the English Channel.
Back at the car park, another motorhome has joined us. At 8.30pm, the carpark is still full as people enjoy the summer evening. We settle in for the evening starting with one of Ro’s  slap up masterpieces for dinner. We eat overlooking the busy Dover ferry port as evening descends. The hustle and bustle will continue all night but the muffled sounds do not disturb our sleep after we turn in for the night.

Saturday 2nd August 2014 :Dover  , England

When we arrived in UK in June, we stayed overnight at a campsite near Dover. We will overnight there and spend tomorrow in the promised sunshine.
After a bit of running around in the morning we arrive about 2pm. We are welcomed as old friends and immediately invited to a dinner as celebration of a couple’s 40th wedding anniversary. We have time to set up and have a quick swim before dinner at 6.30.
The dinner is a lovely piece of chicken with salads, champagne and numerous desserts. We have a few stimulating discussions and later a very competent guitarist supplies dance music into the wee hours.  A midnight swim in the pool signals bed time for us  and we sleep soundly un til 9am

Sunday 3rd August 2014 :Dover  , England

Although a long sleep is welcomed, we miss a walk in which we had expected to participate. By the time the walkers return at 10, we are just in the middle of breakfast.
The day is spent reading, swimming and lying in the sun. Decadence in the extreme.
By 5 pm we need to start getting ready for our ferry trip. Although we are booked on the 10pm ferry, if there is room on the 8pm departure, we can go on that. Our aim is to leave by 6.45pm having emptied waste and filled our water tank. We achieve our goal and are on the docks by 7pm.
The guy in the checkin booth says the 8pm to Dunkirk is fully booked and offers us a 7.15 to Calais. We discuss briefly but say we will wait until 10. He checks again and says he can squeeze us on the 8 which we gratefully accept.
We are on board and away by 8, due at Dunkirk by 11, allowing for advancing our clocks by 1 hour. We watch as the White Cliffs recede. Up on top we can see a motorhome which was us two nights ago. Our UK adventures are over.
After a quiet crossing during which we eat a shipboard dinner of questionable nutritional value, we arrive at Dunkirk and head for the carpark in which we stayed overnight on our outward trip. It is a convenient if rather soulless overnight  campsite so will do us.

Monday 4th August 2014 : Dunkirk , France

It is 9.30 before we get up, partially because we forgot to move the clock one hour forward. We have avoided deciding what we will do in France but the time for prevarication must end. We will head for Amsterdam, 3 hours away by motorway or 10 hours by non motorway. Motorway wins by a short head.
Along the way we buy food at Lidl. Whether our card works at any particular Lidl is a source of great mystery. We only have 8 euro in cash so we need to check the card first. The checkout chick does not speak English so making our request as to whether the card will be read here is not straightforward. Eventually we decide to buy a few things which are less than 8 euro on the card and if it fails we will use our precious cash. Fortunately the card can be read so we purchase our 7 euros of goods then go back for more.
Perhaps we better find a bit of cash. Along the way is a cash dispenser at Tilburg Reeshof. The town we drive through looks only 20 or so years old. Fortunately the cash machine recognises our card and supplies us some money.
Our motorway trip through Belgium is somewhat lacking in scenery but we think the non motorway route would not have been much better. As we clear Belgium, we decide to stay overnight nearby and travel the hour and a half to Amsterdam tomorrow.
There is a campsite forty minutes away and we arrive by 4 pm. We are offered coffee before a quick tour of the facilities. These prove to be rather minimalist because they had a fire some weeks ago which destroyed the main shower block. Fortunately the day is quite warm so the open air shower will not be too  chilly.

Tuesday 5th August 2014 :De Moer , Netherlands

It seems another day of leisure is in order . After all we have had a solid 8 weeks of tourist work so we deserve a day or two of rest.
The campsite is well treed and very tranquil. We see a red squirrel run up a tree and hear the ubiquitous dove. That bit is not so tranquil. Doves drive us to distraction with their 3 bar chorus followed by an abrupt end as thouth the plug has been pulled out. Writing about it does not quite convey the effect but, take my work for it, it is rather monotonous. Although we have occasionally heard the odd deviant who sings 4 choruses before the abrupt end. But you get a deviant in any group.
The day is sunny and insists we laze about reading and doing little else. At a bit of prompting from Ro and  I get just motivated enough to look at our pump which has developed a character which does not suit us. The brief is simple enough: turn on when we turn on the tap and turn off when we turn the tap off. The pump would prefer to randomly do its own thing when the tap is off.  A bit of work with a spanner and the pump falls into line. While I admire someone who is his/her own person, I don’t need it in a pump.
We had intended moving on toward Amsterdam but we don’t quite make it. We will leave tomorrow.

Wednesday 6th August 2014 : De Moer, Netherlands

It has been suggested to us that taking a motorhome or even a bike into Amsterdam is lunacy. They may have used a rather more polite word but the meaning is clear.
There is a campsite near Delft which is within cycling distance of a train station on which we could make a day trip to Amsterdam while also seeing Delft,  Rotterdam and the Haig.
We will adopt that strategy. Thomasina can get us there in 1 hour travelling 82 kilometers using motorways. Before launching  on that path we check the alternative non motorway. She can take us that path in 3 hours 40 minutes and 150 kilometers. The choice is obvious! We will avoid motorways because we want to see Holland.
Last time in Holland we learned to dread the  drempel or speed hump. They are on the roads in plague proportions and our enjoyment of the non motorway route only lasts half an hour. After continually scanning the road for the next marked or unmarked drempel, we see little of the countryside anyway. Not slowing down to walking pace for a drempel causes cupboard contents to be lifted and dropped with great ferocity. Not a nice sound.
Having abandoned the long way home, we arrive at our campsite by 3 pm. Close to our destination is a mobile crane of remarkable proportions. I want to look at that. Maybe tomorrow.
We set up the van but soon after, rain prevents us doing anything more than reading. The rain continues into the early evening so we have a very late lunch which becomes an early dinner and spend the rest of the evening doing some computer stuff, listening to music and playing some cards.
Tomorrow we will visit Delft and find where the train station is located.  

Thursday 7th August 2014 : Delft, Netherlands

There has been a lot of rain during the night but the sky this morning looks grey without threatening rain.
After breakfast we ride into Delft via the mobile crane. To my dismay, it has gone. I would have liked to see it being dismantled but I have missed out.
Holland is renowned for its numerous bikes and the bike paths are as numerous or more so than the roads. Furthermore, everywhere is dead flat so bikes are the preferred means of transport for everyone from children to grandparents.  
After a ten minute ride we are in Delft or more correctly Royal Delft. It is a lovely town with canals in a grid and cobbled streets with few cars. Pedestrians and bikes rule. We lock our bikes and enter the location into Tom Tom lest we get lost.
The old town is very attractive and has a nice feel to it. We find cities and towns quickly declare their ambience as warm or otherwise. Delft is certainly one of the warm ones. First stop is Kobus Kuch, a bar of sorts which sells world famous apple pie, so they say. We had been advised to try this Delft specialty and as we walk through a very attractive treed square, there is  Kobus Kuch. What a stroke of luck. We have a slice each, me with coffee and Ro with tea. The thick pie is fresh from the oven and comes with a small saucer of whipped cream.  This will do for a temporary lunch.
There are a couple of churches to look at externally and a town hall similar  architecture of which we have seen in Brugge. The town square quite reminds us of Brugge. Today it is  host to the weekly market. There is a late 19th century  hurdy gurdy towed by a horse playing rather contemporary songs with a bouncy happy tone. We have seen a similar one in Melbourne from time to time but not towed by a horse.
There is a shop selling Royal Delft porcelain, the famous blue painted ceramic warel made in the factory here since the 17th century. On the ground floor are trinkets and more sophisticated pieces made in  the factory recently. On the first floor are antique pieces each with the date and artist shown. Since 1879 the factory has used a 2 letter code for the year and a 3 letter code for the artist, allowing exact provenance to be known. There are 400 mm high vases from 1890’s for 5400 euro and a tiled painting from a similar period for 13000 euro.   They are quite collectable but subject to market whims. Five years ago, the 13000 euro tiles sold for 19000 euro.
We are ready to return to our camp site. Now to find the bikes. The disadvantage to Thomasina when walking is that, firstly she takes a month of Sundays to lock onto the satellites then when found, she has trouble knowing that we are moving. Notwithstanding, she finds our bikes when we can’t.
Next we want to enquire at the station about trains to Amsterdam. We find the station after quizzing locals a couple of times. As we enter the station we are astounded at the bike parking. Rows and rows of double height bike racks are filled with bikes. There must be thousands!  Finding one’s bike must require a good memory. Looking at the age and weathered state of some, there are many former bike owners who do not possess that quality.
A day ticket to Amsterdam is 52 euro for two people. We can only claim Senior Citizen rates if the Dutch Government has given us documents to prove that. Perhaps we will visit Amsterdam tomorrow.
Returning to our campsite, we are quite warm from our ride. The campsite has a large freshwater lake with a floating pontoon and some peddelo boats. It is only after we are out in the boats that we remember how much work a peddelo  is to operate. If we were not overheated from our riding, we are from our peddeloing.  
The water is not too cold so we swim to the pontoon where there is a water jet and back. The sun is shining now but we are pleasantly cool. Time for another late lunch.
Later we have a delicious dinner, a walk then to bed.

Friday 8th August 2014 :Delft , Netherlands

The weather was forecast to be sunny and warm. It is in fact overcast and cool.
We are not sure we want to go into another big city so Amsterdam is put off for another day. Maybe for good this trip. Next year we will go to Denmark so we could travel via Amsterdam then.
During some cleaning of the van roof, I noticed that the cover to the cabin heater flue was missing. In fact it has been missing some time and I had replaced it with an aluminium drink can appropriately modified. The top of the can is missing so rain can get into the flue.  
We had asked at the camp site if there are rubbish bins in which we could find a can. Normally, camps are full of bins with empty cans. Not this one. When I ask the manager, maybe my explanation or his English is inadequate because we mentions a metal recycling yard where I could buy one. Hope they take credit cards.
Yesterday on the ride to Delft we saw a caravan shop so we will ride back to buy a new flue cap. On the way, we are sure we will see a can to grab in case we can’t get a flue cap.
The ride is probably 4 km and in that time the only cans we see are Red Bull cans which are too small in diameter. We have travelled  35,000 km in Europe during the last 4 years and rarely have we travelled ½ km without seeing a can littering the roadside. But here in Holland we can’t find a single can! Finally we spot one aging, dented can which will at least keep the water out.
The caravan shop does have what we need so the can is not needed. We ride back and I quickly fit the new flue cap between showers.
It is now warmish so we go back to the lake and commune with the ducks in the peddelo for a while before returning to the van for lunch.
The rain is quite heavy now so we decide to move on. As the rain eases, we prepare to leave. Just before doing so, we use the wifi to check weather in France. It is warmer and no less wet here than in France. Perhaps we will stay here.
In which case our supplies need replenishing. The marvel that Tom Tom is directs us to Lidl where the marvel that our Travel Card isn’t won’t talk to the  Lidl cash register. We  notice here, as we have elsewhere, that many Dutch men and women  are tall.  
We have enough cash for these purchases but we need to get some more. Once again Thomasina leads us through  unlikely back streets to a cash dispenser which does talk to our money card. The roads in Holland are different from any we have seen elsewhere in Europe. They are narrow and either straight as a die or turn unexpectedly at unlikely angles. Keeps one on ones toes. Or up the creek.
As night descends, we go for another walk. The camp manager is out and about on his golf buggy and stops to talk. We mention that we were intending leaving this afternoon but that weather  elsewhere is worse than here. He comments that we missed the good weather by one day. But he thinks tomorrow will be better. Lets hope so.

Saturday 9th August 2014 : Delft, Netherlands

Overnight there is quite a bit of rain and the morning is overcast with a cold wind.
As the morning progresses, the clouds lessen and the sun peeps through. The wind is still cool but the sun offsets that.
Another day of rest with the odd repair is in order. A catch has come adrift and needs to be replaced.
There is the usual corner of junk from caravans and the 200 metre walk there provides me with a bit of metal which will do the job. When we have power, as we do here, the grinder can be used and all manner of things can be fixed. It is only a small job and before long I am back to loafing.
By 6pm, Ro is getting a bit bothered by all this lazing about. Although the  afternoon has been sunny and windy, the wind has died down and the sun is low in the sky with not too much heat in it. So the day is not a complete writeoff, we will cycle into Rotterdam, about 10 km away and supposedly 35 minutes. Our camp site is between Delft and Rotterdam so we ride in the opposite direction to our ride on Wednesday.
The ride is along a wide canal although a significant part of the way it is above us. The  path again is quite flat so riding is easy. It is rural so sheep, horses and cattle abound. Toward the end of our ride we get a full view of the canal so over 4 or 5 km we have gained 3 or 4 metres altitude. Thankfully it is downhill on our return. Unfortunately the slight head wind will overcompensate for any advantage.
We see a sign saying Centrum 5km but instead continue following the canal as we can see a church spire ahead. Our reward is a quaint bricked street with 18th or 19th century cottages either side. As we continue, the properties become very industrial and it is time to turn back. A dodgy character who is gesticulating to passing cars confirms our decision.
The sign showing 5 km to Centrum looms and we must decide whether to follow that path or return to our campsite. The 10 km return trip to Centrum is less than appealing after our ride to this point so we wimp out and return to camp.
Back at camp, a swim seems appealing as we have warmed up due to the riding. The lake is too cool for me so we instead enjoy the lake surface in the peddelo  after which Ro braves the chilly water.

Sunday 10th August 2014 :De Moer , Netherlands

The weather does not look good for the rest of the week. Perhaps it is time to slowly work our way back to France.
Despite that, before breakfast and  after a peddelo on the lake  Ro swims again and I wimp out again. Our responses to heat and cold are very predictable. I love the heat and Ro prefers the cool. In a week’s time in Croatia, one of us is going to be less than happy.
We are packed and ready to leave by 11. We are heading back to our campsite of last week and will again try the slow way until the drempels either break us or the van.
We get to see a bit of Rotterdam along the way. It being Sunday, the traffic is light. It is also raining quite a bit so the Sunday Drivers (if that concept exists in Holland) don’t seem to be out.
We are astounded by the number and complexity of roads. They go everywhere and, as mentioned before, often at strange angles. Holland is renowned for its traffic jams, not that we have seen any. Maybe they did not know when  to stop building roads. And there are still large numbers under construction.
As we clear Rotterdam’s outskirts, the roads settle down to pathways through rural land. The rain continues throughout most of our journey but lessens as we approach our destination. By 4 we are welcomed back to our previous camp site. We will stay here until Thursday when we will return to France. That gives us four days to work out how to get the van out of the soft round we are now parked in.

Monday 11th August 2014 :De Moer , Netherlands

We are marking time for a few days. The weather pattern repeats each day: clear morning, intermittent heavy showers afternoon then clear evenings. To get any better weather we would need to travel further south than Paris. Given we need to be back in Beaurainville by Saturday, it is not worth the drive.
Instead we spend the day reading, walking and picking blackberries. We are reading much more than we do at home so our library, kindly donated by our Sidcup friends last year,  is starting to get depleted.  
The day drags a bit

Tuesday 12th August 2014 :De Moer , Netherlands

One of the locals has suggested that if we liked Delft, we will like St Hxxxxxx which is about 30 km away.
We have time to fill so a little bit of sight seeing may be in order. Not too much as we are feeling a bit over sighted.
As we approach St Hxxx, it is raining a little. We are not sure what there is to see so we consult  Thomasina who obliges by listing the local tourist attractions…. In Dutch. We won’t get far this way so, as we have often done before, we have morning tea.
Where we can park is not immediately apparent but we happen upon a canal the other side of which looks like it has parking. A quick U turn across a bridge and we are in a narrow street where, fortuitously, a car is just leaving. We pull in and boil the billy.
As we drink our tea and coffee, a canal boat is plying the waters. It has two rows of containers across and three or four along. The canal is probably 9 metres wide and the barge is about 6 metres wide by 20 metres long. The bridges open seemingly automatically as the barge travels along. Canals are very widespread in Holland and seem to form an important transport system.
We have been told we can take a boat ride along the canals but we don’t know where they leave from. Thomasina lists ports in the area so we head for one which looks likely. Unfortunately  within a few hundred meters the road is blocked off so we abort our attempt. Our sight seeing is somewhat half hearted so we instead head back to the camp, via a nearby Lidl.  We have filled in some time and seen a bit of another Dutch city. We enjoyed Delft more but we may have put in more effort.
About 7 we drive into De Moer. We had intended riding our bikes but the off/on rain dissuades us. The dinner we have is rather typically Dutch; plenty of chips and potato balls with some other vegetables and a very well cooked half chicken. There is plenty of it so we leave after the main course to walk off some of our meal. There is not a lot to see as the village is quite small but we a again notice  how neat everything is.
By 10 we are back at our campsite for the night which is again quiet.  

Wednesday 13th August 2014 :De Moer , Netherlands

Another day of reading and catching the sun between rain storms.
After lunch the sky looks clear so we  walk about 3 km into De Moer. There still not much to see so we return after 10 or 15 minutes. Our walk is about 1 hour then we return to reading.
It is apparent that we are ready to move on.However tomorrow is supposed to be pick of the bunch weather this week so we will stay here and wildcamp tomorrow night near Houplines where we will prepare the van for winter on Friday.  

Thursday 14th August 2014 : De Moer , Netherlands

The pick of the bunch is worse than the previous days! Yet another day of reading mostly indoors as the rain showers are heavier and more frequent.
By 4 we start packing up. We need to empty waste water and fill with fresh. Then I have a shower before we leave so I won’t need one tonight.
It is good to be on the road again. Our time in Holland has been enjoyable but a bit too much loafing around. We have chosen the motorway option so we spend 2 ½ hours  of pas de deux in passing trucks. The way the motorways function is a joy. Back in Australia, I think I will write some letters to RACV, our motorist loby group, suggesting we ban overtaking on inside lanes. That would hopefully allow our freeways to operate more like the motorways here.
Arriving at Houplies, we find a  level bit of asphalt which will do us for tonight. Our dinner is a makeshift affair as we are trying to get rid of our supplies by Saturday.

Friday 15th August 2014 : Houplines , France

Today we need to prepare the van for winter which we will do at the campsite we visited at the start of our trip.
On the way we need to visit Lidl for some closing down provisions, notable hypochlorite for the toilet and waste water tank. We drive a short distance. The Lidl we have chosen is just around the next roundabout. However road works prevent our progress. 4 or 5 km later we find another way to the store only to find it is not there! The store may be a Carrefours supermarket or may not be. Going into Carrefours is like launching into a maze. There are sure to be 5000  types of hypochlorite if we can find the hypochlorite department. Maybe we will try another Lidl.
There is one 3 km away so we head there. But amazingly, the carpark gate is closed. Looks like we will need to brave Carrefours nearby.
We find our supplies eventually and return to the van. In 10 minutes we are at our camp site and are welcomed as the Australians  who visited them 10 weeks ago.
The rest of the day is spent thoroughly cleaning out the toilet and waste water tanks, packing our clothes into our travel bags and getting ready to depart France tomorrow.  We need to be at Beaurainville, 2 hours away, in time to close up the van and be at the station by 1.25 for the trip to Paris.
Dinner of leftovers from the fridge precedes bed at 10pm.   

Saturday 16th August 2014 : Houplines , France

We are up at 7.15 which is a new thing for us this trip. We are ready toleave by 9, half an hour later than our intended departure of 8.30.
Initially we have chosen non motorways to get our last glimpse of rural France. However as we ply narrow roads and squeeze past on coming cars, the recognition of the relatively higher likelihood of an accident compared with motorways  causes us to abandon that route and switch to motorways. As it happens, the distance we travel on motorways is not great before we are back on minor roads.
The greater risk notwithstanding, we arrive at Beaurainville by 11.15 and within half an hour have disconnected the batteries, closed off the gas and hung the matrasses and cushions out to avoid any mould and are ready to leave for the station. This turns out to be a good idea because we notive our passports under them! Arriving at CDG without our passports would have put a fly in the ointment.
It is a 20 minute walk to the station and the wheels on our bags get quite a work out. So do I. Ro has upset her spinal alignment so needs to be careful for a few days which leaves me as the packhorse. But she is a kind mistress and rarely uses a whip. Well who would on an aging horse?
Our RER train to Arras is due at 1.25pm and we are  at the station with 50 minutes to spare. There  are only two trains to Arras each day so we can’t afford to miss this one.
The trip to Paris goes without incident. As the TGV does not termnate at CDG we keep our eyes on the clock and make sure we are ready with bags to exit the train post haste. There is always a bit of a bun fight to get off or on as the trains don't linger in the station. Once on the platform we head for Terminal 1 which we must access via the train shuttle two levels above.
Soon we are at the Croatian Airlnes checkin and we are finally rid of our bags.  Our flight to Zagreb boards in 30 minutes so we make our way to the gate lounge and soon board.
The flight is 1 hour 40 minutes and passes quickly for me as I chat with a young Croat returning from a month's intensive French in France. She is training to be an interpreter and welcomes the chance to practise her English. Ro has been placed 4 rows back and does not have any English speakers next to her so reads.
At Zargreb, the contrast with CDG is stark. Instead of travellators, aeorbridges, shuttles and the like, we exit via a stairway into a bus. Admittedly, this is the widest bus I have ever travelled on and is big enough to carry all the passengers from the A320 standing up.
An hour in the terminal and we are on another bus out to our plane to Dubrovnik. We are sitting together this time for the 40 minute flight. We will land about 10.25 pm, a bit behind schedule.
We have already cleared border contol at Zagreb so we proceed straight to our waiting taxi. The taxi driver drives his Mercedes quite lke a racing car driver. Last time in Croatia we found the speed limit signs were a bit confusing. This guy takes the attitude 'when in doubt, assume there is no speed limit'. He is in doubt most of the trip.
We arrive at our apartment 15 mnutes later with no pedestrians implaed on his star emblem so it must have been a good day for him. Robert, the apartment owner is there at street level to meet us. The apartment is 58 steps above street level. We know there are 58 steps because we later learn there are another 115 steps down to the lower road. When returning requires climbing 173 steps at the end of a long walk into the town, it helps to count down from 173 as motivation.
Robert makes the mistake of offering to carry our bags up to the apartment. The two weigh 46 kg and half way up, despite numerous offers from me to carry them,  he is puffing heavily and saying no problem; at the top he can write down what he had intended speaking to us.
The apartment is oldish with somewhat unattractive furnishings but huge compared to our Paris apartments in previous years. It has two small balconies with a wonderful view across the water to Lokrum Island which we cannot actually see tonight as it is uninhabited and has no lights. What we do see is a tall ship with lights on masts and spars which looks fantastic. Ro had actually seen it as we flew in from her window seat. To the right we can see the illuminated walled town which looks fantastic.
After Robert had regains his breath, he goes through items in the apartment and a few things about Dubrovnik.
It is 12 before we are in a nice wide bed with the doors open admitting a delightfully warm breeze. Finally a bit of warm summer weather.

Sunday 17th August 2014 : Dubrivnik, Croatia.

The view which greets us from the balcony when we get up is better than the "Lovely Views" tag with which the apartment was advertsed when we booked. The view is at a minimum beautiful.
Lokrum Island is now fully in view with sparkling blue green water in the foreground and clear ocean past the island. The island is treed with an ancient fort on the low peak.
There is a largish cruise ship moored between us and the island. Each day we will see a different cruise liner as they only seem to stay in port one day. The view captivates us through breakfast and late into the morning.
The old city is a Unesco Heritage listed walled city. After the 173 steps, it is a 10 minute walk to the wall. On the way we stop at a bakery to get an early lunch as breakfast was rather light on. We had forgotten the limits on containers in hand luggage so what we had been relying on for breakfast we had had to dump at the airport security scan last night.
Walking into the city, we cross a mote with a drawbridge and sturdy doors now permanently open. In the middle ages, this walled city was highly advanced and very well protected.
We had intended to  vists Locrum and now seems as good a time as any. Boats leave for the island every 10 or 15 minutes in peak time so  it is not long before we are heading for the island. Everyone must be off the island by last boat at 8pm. It is now around 2 so we have plenty of time.
The trip is less than 15 minutes. On the island, it is getting quite warm and the loud chirp of cicadas reminds us of home. Our first port of call is a beach to cool off. Perhaps beach is not a good description because there is no sand: only rocky shores which drop directly into the clear ocean.
Steel ladders have been anchored to the rocks as exit and entry would be difficult and dangerous otherwise. There are fresh water showers available after swimming. The shores are well patronised and when we get into the water we understand why. The water is a balmy temperature with no shock to the system on entry.
We spend two hours swimming and drying off in the warm sunshine. Although the  sun is stronger than we  experienced in UK, it is still less strong than summer sun back home.
Around 4 we return to the mainland aboard the crowded ferry. We note that it is licensed for 200 passengers and there must be close to that number  on board. But it does not appear overloaded as seems to happen in Asian countries closer to home. We feel quite secure.
By the time we are back on the mainland, we are hot again. Despite the longish walk home in the heat, we want to return for a cool drink and a rest before venturing out to dinner.
We shower to cool off and read for a couple of hours. By 8 we are ready to face the 173 steps and walk back to the old city. Along the way is an eating place which looks OK. We sit outside in the warm evening and eat our meal.
By 9.30 we are finished. The walled city beckons. It is only 200 metres and soon we are walking along well lit walkways with polished stone that looks like it has just been rained on. We liked that in Croatia in 2011 and re enjoy the experience now. As then Croatia is clean, friendly and safe.
As we walk along a passage, we enter a large square which reminds us of St Mark's square in Venice. The buildings are all illuminated and crowds of people walk about, sit at tables at the numerous eateries or peruse the dozens of still open souvenier shops. The wide polished stone street has three storey buildings either side. It is easy to see why in medieval times this was one of the most advanced civilizations around.
For 30 minutes we walk around the bustling  city. Crossing the walled old city we exit  to the new Dubrovnik where we are in a modern city with cars and buses and modern roads. The old city is more appealing and we quickly return.
By 11 we are ready to return to our apartment. Although the night is warm, there is no fierce sun beating down so the return walk is more enjoyable. Until the 173 stairs.
Once inside, we shower and sink into a peaceful sleep.

Monday 18th August 2014 : Dubrivnik, Croatia.

Breakfast on the balcony overlookng a sparkling blue sea is seductive. Instead of heading for an 8 am 1 1/2 hour walk on the town wall we surrender to the seduction and enjoy the view un til 10.30.
The walk into the town is rather hot. It is broken by a visit the Robert's workplace, a hotel along our path to the town. We had intended travelling by bus to Split on Wednesday but Robert has suggested a hire car may be a better way to see the coast. We can organise that from his hotel. We can pick up a small Opel and make a one way rental to Split Wednesday morning.
As we continue down to the old town, we pick figs from the many trees growing next to the stone walls. Because it is so steep, our path along the road is at tree top level for the trees rooted in the soil 3 or 4 meters below us. Figs become part of Ro's breakfast each morning. I pass: mainly because the high fibre in the figs does too.
In the town we walk beyond the port where we took the ferry yesterday to a point outside the wall. The rocks there are used by swimmers for diving into the clear blue water. There are fresh water showers as on Locrum Island.
As we return, there are some heavy seats in the shaddow of the wall where we can enjoy the scenery and watch as the numerous cats and pigeons ignore one another. Above us is a ledge where pigeons roost. The reason the seats are vacant soon becomes evident. It is said that it is good luck for a bird to poop on you. I receive many grams of good luck. Enough to last me quite a while. The showers we had just passed prove to be very useful for washing one shirt and one head.
Returning through the wall, we visit some of the streets we visited last night but in the daylight the ambience is diferent. We walk further around the wall, going through a few gates to outside bars hugging the rocks which disappear into the deep water.
Our walking and stair clmbing over the past few days has taken its toll on our muscles. Rather than continue walking around Dubrovnik which hangs from the steep cliffs, we will return to our apartment and maybe venture out later when it is cooler and we are refreshed.
If our muscles were a bit tender when we left the walled city, by the time we return to the apartment they are screaming.
The plan to return to the town is modified; we will stay in tonight. Cheese and biscuits will have to do for dinner.

Tuesday 19th August 2014 : Dubrivnik, Croatia.

There is a pebble beach in the oposite direction to the walled city. One of its attractions is that we can avod 115 steps. Given our sore legs, that is a major attraction.
The road heads downhill quite steeply but then gradually increases back to our original height. As we walk, we see another couple who look like they are heading for the beach.
We follow them for perhaps one km until we reach a derelct hotel. We had noticed this building from the Locrum boat and wondered if it was being built. It is a huge complex and looks only 20 or 30 years old. We learn that it was the top hotel in Dubrovnik but was shelled beyond repair in the 1990s Bosnian war, presumably to impact their tourist income. Not that one would expect tourism to be great in a war.
The slight downside to our saving of 115 steps is that this way has 150  or 200 steps to the water. Two thirds of the way down, another downside arises. The Irish couple we are following ask us if we know the way to the beach. After some discussion we all decide to continue further down and eventually we find the beach which we soon decide was not realy worth finding. It is crowded with no shade and pebbles which are difficult to walk on.
After a quick swim and rinse we decide to go back to the town where we will probably get the boat back to Locrum. The rocks there are far more comfortable than the stones here.
We find another staircase which takes us to a lower level road which will take us back to town without destroying our legs. We get the boat to Locrum and within 20 minutes we are swimming at a far more comfortable location.
After our swim we walk around the island for a while before returning to the mainland. Rather than eating out, we will buy some provisions and go back to the apartment. We need to pack to pick up the rental car in the morning.

Wednesday 20th August 2014 : Dubrivnik, Croatia.

We are up in plenty of time to complete our packing and  for me to walk to the hotel where I pick up the car at 10. The sky is overcast and some rain is expected. There is only 15 minutes of rain, the period defined by when I walk out of the apartment to when I arive at the hotel with a soaked shirt. It is still warm so the shirt dries quickly.
The small car we had booked is not available but we can have a Captiva instead for the same price. However the agent takes me out to show me the car before any paperwork. Am I sure I am happy with the upgrade? Why wouldn't I be? Later I discover why.
I  have brought the Tom Tom with me so I can find my way back to the apartment. I set off and need to turn right. However I miss the turn. Roads in Croatia are narrow but cars illegally parked either side make them absolute obstacle courses. On top of this, driving here is more an art form than a structured procedure so watching the GPS is difficult. Missing just one more turn starts me along the road out of Dubrovnik and there are few places to turn.
Finally I can turn and only one hour after I left the apartment, I return to get our luggage. This is when I start to understand the agent's question.Passing vehicles here is as bad as I have ever experienced over here and it is in a hire car where I decided against the top damage waiver.
Finally we clear Dubruvnik with the car in tact and start our 150 km drive to Split along the coast road. We have enjoyed Dubrovnik and would like to return. If it is in the van, perhaps we won't venture along the roads we have taken this morning.
The scenery along the coast road is spectacular. The blue sea stretches to islands along the coast. The countryside is mostly rock edifices high above us and below clinging to the rock faces are houses and villages down to the water side.
The traffic driving toward Dubrovnik is amazing. It is solid for probably 10 km. Our traffic is heavy but moves well. There are few oportunities for overtaking but there is little purpose anyway as passing one slowcoach only improves speed until the next one 1/2 km ahead. Still, the journey is what is important, not the destination.
Along the way we have to cross the Bosnian border twice. Croatia is cut in two by a strip of land which is 8 km wide at the coast. It was this disputed coast which kept Croatia out of the EU until one year ago. At each crossing we get our passports ready and each time we are waived on with no check. It is good to see beaurocracy at its best. Still, the border controls help keep unemployment down in Bosnia.
We have been recommended to visit Makarska along the way. The rental organiser said she spends her holidays there. Calling in to the town we are not so enamoured. It is crowded, busy and not very attractive. We buy some lunch from a bakery which turns out to be  rather like the town: not memorable for good reasons.
By 4 pm we are in Split. Our apartment is not accessible by car. We leave the car nearby and walk to the apartment. We now start a 3 hour process to get access to the apartment. Ther is nothing telling us how to get a key. We have a mobile number which we call from a public phone. It is out of range. We call the booking agent. They only have the same number. We speak with nearby occupants of the flats.  They have no contact method. They just met someone in the street who gave them the key. This goes on with calls to the out of range mobile, the agent and anyone else we can raise.  
We are starting to  think that we may have  to sleep in the Captiva which will be  more comfortable than our original booked vehicle. Eventually about 7.30, a lady asks us if we are wanting access to the apartment. She is only three doors away and has the keys etc but the agent does not seem to have her number. By now we are very hot and slghtly bothered. She apologises but we say it is not her fault.  We found during our last trip in Croatia that some i s are not dotted or t s crossed. Things have not improved.
We get our bags from the car and are finally able to cool off by 8.30. Tomorrow's task is to return the vehicle before 10am. We wonder whether the car rental office will have any vehicular access......

Thursday 21th August 2014 : Split, Croatia.

It is 5.30 when we awake. The area where the car is parked is pay parking.Last night we had needed to feed the machine until 9pm when it became free and we need to move it by 7 this morning.  We have decided we can explore Split by car until 10 when it is due back so we are in the car by 7.
There is a large park or protected area within a few km so we head for that. We come across a marina where there are 100s of boats. It would be a very nice place to have a boat. We look out over the sea for a while then continue via a circuitous route to the other side of the park, passing a fuel outlet on the way. We need to fill up before returning the vehicle but it may be a bit soon now.
Passing through a long tunnel, we reach the road we want. However at the end there are boom gates stopping further progress and we can't read what we are prevented reaching anyway. Back along the road we saw a road down to the sea so we find that and drive down to the sea.
The water is clean but not as blue as at Dubrovnik. Nonetheless it is inviting and we have a swim in tolerably cool water. When we return to the car, we need to head toward the rental office. Thomasina tells us there is a fuel outlet near the office so we head there. What she didn't say was that it is for boats. The closest outlet is back through the 1 km tunnel where we were an hour ago.
We have the car back before 10, miraculously with no scratches or dents. Our apartment is within walking distance and along the way we visit the walled old town where we have icecreams. The walled town is nowhere near as well preserved as Dubrovnik's but interesting nevertheless.
By 11 it is quite warm and humid so we decide to seek the cool of the apartment for morning tea.
Our friends from Cairns are meeting us here today to join us on the cruise from Saturday for the next week. They arrive on the 6pm ferry from Pescara, Italy. On the way back to the apartment we check where the ferry comes in and where we will need to catch  the airport shuttle on Saturday week.
We while away the afternoon keeping cool then  walk around the alleyways near the apartment. At 5.30 we stroll toward the ferry terminal. Now to discover where our friends are lkely to exit. Most ticket kiosks we ask at direct us to other areas for the information we want. Once we have been directed back to an earlier kiosk, we realise we are on our own. No one seems to have the information we need. Eventually we find a guy with a uniform who actually takes us to the customs exit.
We ask the police there if the passengers come through this door. One says 'yes' another says 'no'. Afew minutes later we see passengers exiting the door. We ask "is this the ferry from Pescara?" . One says 'yes' another says 'no'. Either there is quite a bit of confusion or they are taking the 'good cop bad cop' to dizzying heights. We wait  until the last passengers exit and are pleased that the last couple are our friends.
It is a 10 minute walk to the apartment. We have booked the upper apartment for them and have some wine in the fridge as a welcome.  What the wine is we don't know other than that it is white. It has a beer bottle top but the contents is pallatable when we hold our noses.
They have had a decent lunch on the ferry and we are not hungry so  we part about 9. We will explore  Split tomorrow.

Friday 22nd August 2014 : Split, Croatia.

We have breakfast with our friends in their apartment. It is a bit bigger than ours. There is nearly room for all of us to stand up together without even using the shower cubical.
Later in the morning we walk over to the old town where we explore the narrow alleyways. The excellent condition of Dubrovnik's walled city is apparent compared with this town which is showing its age. However we hear how much damage Dubrovnik sustained in the 1990s was so maybe the walled city there has been rebuilt.
By early afternoon we are ready to return to the cool of the apartment. We will venture out later for dinner. Coolng complete, there is the old town to further explore. We walk to the oposite side and out into the newer section, which is still a few centuries old. As we return, we go over to the port to see if our boat is in yet. It probably is, but which of the 10 or 15 Katrina Line boats it is we can't determine.
It is getting on for  5.30 when we said we would join our friends for drinks in their apartment. We all have  drinks, cheese and biscuits and that turns out to be dinner, except for icecreams we get over in the old town.
After a bit of packing we are ready for bed. Tomorrow we start our cruise.

Saturday 23th August 2014 : Split, Croatia.

Given our lack of success in locating our boat last night, I go down to the dock at 9.30 to get more information. There is a Katrina Lines booth were I can get the information I need. Our boat is called Papa Bravo or something simlar. This will create no end of difficulty if we need to send an SOS. Hopefully we won't.
At 11  the four of us cart our luggage down to the dock to board our boat. In Croatia, boats raft up to other boats so one may have to pass through 2 or 3 others to get to the correct boat. Normally not a problem but with two large bags, we could do without that. But without a great deal of effort we are on our boat.
We are pleasantly surprised as our boat is as good as the one we went on 3 years ago from Opartia. Ther are 27 passengers from Germany, Holland, France, Sweden, Italy and England. The biggest contingent  is the Australian one. There ase 5 of us! Later we discover that there are 6 Swedes so we are pipped by 1.
In fact the boat is called Pape Prvi and is owned by the captain and contracted to Katrina Lines. It is about 30 meters with two full decks and a top sun deck. It is in excellent condition and we will observe the crew  constantly washing and polishing it during the trip. We are on the upper deck with a cabin which is reasonably spacious with two single beds and an ensuite. The beds have plenty of room under them  for our large bags. Although there is a wardrobe, we will live out of our bags. The warm weather means we won't need much from them anyway.
By 1 we are on our way. We will have lunch soon after departing then will travel to a port were those wishing to go white water rafting will depart for a 3 or 4 hour trip. Ro is a bit hesitant but it is a matter of honour. Last year we laid down a challenge to our English friends to do the rafting and they did in our absence since we had needed to return to Australia early. Thus Ro has to whether she wants to or not.
We leave the boat and 8 of us travel high into the Croatian mountains by bus. The raft takes the eight of us plus a guide on a 10 km river trip. The first 5 km are quite tame with quite a bit of paddling. The second 5 km is a bit more exciting but by the end, Ro is a bit disappointed as it has not been quite exciting enough!! However, just as we finish, there is a severe squall and the skies open up with torrents of rain. This is more like it! We could have saved the money on the rafting. We get wetter getting to the bus than we did in the raft.
We join our boat again at Omish where we have to run through the rain to board our boat. They have also experienced the storm and everything outside  is soaking.
When the rain stops, we go into the town and have some icecream and nibbles for dinner. We are tied up to 3 other boats which all have young people with very loud music (to give it a charitable name) which continues until 11 pm. The music finishes but a noisy line slapping against the steel mast replaces the music in keeping us awake. About 1 am I climb onto the top deck and rety the line which quietens it down enough to sleep.

Sunday 24th August 2014 :Omish , Croatia.

Breakfast is at 8am as we motor toward our first swimming stop. The temperature of the wind is beautiful and the sun is warm without being overly hot.
The water is a beautiful aqua, incredibly clean and clear,  and although cool in some areas, has mostly warm patches. We are anchored in about 15 meters of water about 100 metres from shore. We swim and enjoy the sun for an hour or so then motor toward our destination port as we have our lunch. By 3 pm we stop at another swimming site until we leave for the island of Korcula where we tie up at 5.
As we are rafterd up to 5 other boats, there is quite a walk to the dock. Boats are usually lined up and decks are a similar height. As we pass from one boat to the next, we sometimes are fortunate enough to have a direct passage down a companionway across the boat but frequently have to walk to the bow or stern of the boat we are crossing. Often there are people eating or partying as we pass. It is quite an experience.
The town of Korcula on the island of Korcula is picturesque and we walk along the alleyways to which we have become accustomed. Marco Polo was born here and there are many references to the famed explorer. We walk through a 14th century part of the town which is in remarkable condition. Little was damaged in the war here and it underwent renovation in 2003 which may explain the excellent condition. We compare it with Rosslyn Chapel we saw in Scotland and are amazed at how much better condition the stonework here is in. The warmer climate in  Craotia may be the major difference.
There are some food stalls but nothing appeals. We instead visit the local supermarket and but some cheese and biscuits which we eat on board.

Monday 25th August 2014 : Korcula, Croatia.

The boat is underway by 7 as we are the last boat in. We are still in bed as breakfast is not until 8. The seas are completely calm so travelling is not much different from the calm of overnight.
We join the other passengers at 8 and sit on a different table to meet other people. There are two Swedes with whom we can easily converse due to their excellent English and a French couple. He speaks English but she does not. Unfortunately Ro is not confident about exercising her limited French so conversation is rather limited with them. However they are all very nice people and we enjoy our time together.
During breakfast the boat is motoring along the Croatian coast in calm sea with thye sun shining. The view is very enjoyable.
About 10.30 we stop at a swimmng area. The water is a lovely temperature and aquamarine in colour with sunbeams piercing the 15 meter depth of water. This is the stuff of dreams.
On previous days we have motored as we have lunch. This makes for more noise than is conducive to conversation between people with different first languages. A suggestion to the captain that we stay at anchor during lunch is received well and that is what happens. After lunch we swim a little more then head toward our overnight stop, a small group of islands with little infrastructore.
By 4 we arrive at Lustovo. It is very warm so we swim with the idea of walking in the cooler part of the evening.
As there is little infrastructure, the boat has offered a 'Captain's Dinner' for those who want to eat aboard. We are about the only ones who choose not to have the dinner because we know we will overeat. Unfortunately we know from last time that this meal is a lot of fun but we think the discomfort of too much food will not compensate for the fun.
As the other passengers prepare for dinner, we go walking. The island was used for military purposes during the 1990s war and evidence of damage and abandoned buildings is apparent. Walking around the bay we have a great photo shot back to the boat. We return to the boat as the sun is fading and have a snack of cheese and biscuits then sit on the top deck and admire the stars which we can see due to the lower lght pollution in this area. All the familiar star groups are absent here.
The evening is slightly on the cool side but our cabin is quite warm. We  have left our door open each night for the breeze and will do so tonight again.

Tuesday 26th August 2014 : Lustovo, Croatia.

This morning the ladder is down on the stern swimmng platform so we can have an early morning splash about. The water is not as warm as yesterday but still pleasant.
Breakfast is had at the dock which is enjoyable with the absence of motor noise and vibration. Toward the end we leave the dock and start our quite long voyage to the Blue Cave. Here  we can get on a small boat and enter a natural cave, the end of which juts just below the water. This  allows the sun's rays to enter the cave underwater giving the water a translucent blue colour. It is quite spectacular, spoilt only by the 4 or 5 other boats also viewing the cave. It would be lovely to swim in the cave but this is not allowed because of the boats.
There is another similar cave further on where we will stop and may be able to swim.
When we arrive at the Green Cave, there are quite a few boats milling about. The entrance to the cave is much bigger. The sea is not dead calm so the crew offer to take us 5 at a time in the tender. It is lowered into the sea and the 5 hp outboard fired up.  We are fortunate enough to be in the first group. The heavily laden tender plies its way through a slight chop into the cave.
To say it is less spectacular than the Blue cave is somewhat of an understatement. To us it is a large cave with dark water and a light chimney 30 metres above.  If the sun were shining overhead with no clouds, maybe the view would be something to remember. But neither is true. We spend a few minutes sucking up the boat exhaust fumes before starting back to the mothercraft. About 20 metres out of the cave, the outboard  dies. Despite efforts by the two crewmen on board, the motor is not going to start. Instead the crew use the paddles to rather inexpertly propel us back to the boat. That is the end of cave exploration for today. We assure those who missed out that they did not miss out on much.
The boat continues on to Vis, our overnight port, but stops short for us to swim. The water is 26 degrees but feels cooler than yesterday because there are clouds. By 5 we motor in to Vis where we raft up to 4 other boats.
Exploring the town does not take very long, at least partially because we have seen most of it before. Despite that, we enjoy our walk. We are amazed how clean Croatia is. There is absolutely no garbage to be seen on the streets. Who it is that ensures this cleanliness is not obvious. Maybe Croatians are just town proud. Someone must clean up after tourists who we have observed elsewhere are less careful with their food wrappers and cigarette butts.
After our walk we return for some cheese biscuits and wine then go to bed about 10.

Wednesday 27th August 2014 : Vis, Croatia.

The days are fairly well defined on this cruise. We have breakfast about 8 then motor to a swim site where we can swim in beautifully warm, clear and blue seas. We don't have to worry about stingers, sharks or other dangerous creatures as we might in Australia. The only creatures to avoid are the sea urchins which are quite prevalent on the rocks. However as we don't usually go into shore, there are not a problem. Swimming from the boat also has the advantage of deep water and no sand to wash off. The latter advantage is perhaps minimal as we have seen very few sandy beaches. But we don't have to wash off pebbles either.
Today is similar to others but we are not complaining. Croatia is a great place to relax.
The day passes with another tasty lunch and another swim spot in the afternoon. By 5 we are ready to dock at Stari Grad where we will spend the night. It is a  6th century town and there is a one hour walking tour available. However the day is now hot and very humid so we pass on the walk. We will stay on board until a bit later when it will hopefully be a bit cooler.
By 6 the sun is low and the temperature is more comfortable. We have rafted against two boats and in so doing have hemmed in another two. There does not seem enough room for another against us so hopefully another quiet night. Wrong! Another TWO boats raft against us. The way boats are packed in amazes us. The captain demonstrates considerable skill in the close manoeuvers, often with adverse sea breezes. Tomorrow there will have to be an early mass exodus so everyone can leave.
In the mean time, we have an easy exit over two boats, both of which have a central passageway making exit even easier. We walk along the port where dozens of hire yachts, catamarans and power boats are moored, stern in. From our boat,all that can be seen is a sea of masts and a row of anchor chains.
When we finally reach the end of the line of yachts, there is a wine bar with tables on the pavement; one of many. The sun is past the yardarm so we stop for a glass of wine, or whine as the menu labels it. Gradually other passengers who are walking by join us until we have a multinational group enjoying the evening over a quiet drink. Gradually we again disperse for dinner or whatever evening entertainment appeals. Once again, our breakfast and lunch have been enough for us to not need dinner, other than a pancake from a dock side vendor and ice cream.
Walking past the dozens of yachts, we get the feeling of the community which exists. We have commented on how unproductive the coastal land looks. However, the Croats have capitalised on their greatest assest: it is a holiday mecca. Everything is scrupulously clean and pavements etc are well maintained. Some of the buildings are not so but as they are hundreds of years old, some decay adds authenticity to the effect.
Our night is again warm and quiet, nothwithstanding the two boats rafted up to us. Unlike last cruise when we were near the gangplank, this year we are on the upper deck and so are undisturbed by the comings and goings of  passengers from other boats.

Thursday 28th August 2014 : Stari Grad, Croatia.

Boats start leaving by 7 and we are soon away. The motor does not disturb us although some in the hull of the boat comment that when the motor starts, their peace ends.
The sea is slightly choppy and it is nice for us to have a bit of motion, but not everyone agrees. We have breakfast on the move.... both horizontally and vertically. The passengers' sea legs are tested as we get cerial and coffee to bring back to our tables. The motion does not seem to upset anyone and we continue after breakfast to a swim spot.
There is a beach about 300 metres away. The wind is strong and swimming from the boat seems a bit hazardous. The crew offers to ferry people to the beach by tender where it is calmer. The first group is taken in then we are in the second group. Unfortunately, as before, the tender dies just beyond the boat in strong winds. After a bit of solid paddling we get back to the boat and get out.
The motor is restarted. The tender is reloaded but as some extras have boarded, there is only one place available so we will go in the third trip.
There is no third trip as the tender stops again but this time at the shore. The crew paddle back and tender trips are abandoned. Those on shore will have to get back some other way; perhaps a water taxi.
The boat is taken a bit closer in case some wish to swim in or back. At Ro's suggestion and encouragement, we decide to swim in. It takes about 10 minutes but when we reach the shore, the disadvantage of swimming becomes obvious: the beach is largish pebbles and we have nothing  to sit on. After a little walk about  we decide we will swim back, not the least reason being our attire is inappropriate for strolling into the town.
It is nearly lunch time and the rather obstreoprous tender has decided to work again. When we have swum about 50 meters off shore we see it on its way to pick up those on shore. They will probably reach the boat before us.
As it happens, we get there first. Some swim back and the tender brings the rest together with their beach towels.
We enjoy another lunch on board and remain at  anchor until 3. We had been told that we would leave about 3.30 so one Swedish couple had swum back to the beach.  Unfortunaely as they swim back to the boat, the boat has weighed anchor and is leaving without them! However another Swedish couple notes they are not on board and the boat stops to pick them up. We have noted that in Croatia some i s are not dotted and some t s not crossed. One of those t s is safety. There  have been a few minor incidents on this trip and the last trip which should not have happened and could have had disasterous consequences. With this in mind, we watch out a bit more carefully for our own safety.
Motoring the few kilometers to Bol, we pass through a group of wind surfers. This is not your average small group. The wind is constant and the seas not too choppy so there are hundreds of craft providing a kaleidoscope of sails on masts and in the air.
By 5 we are in our overnight port, Bol. As we enter port, Bol appears to be a lovely town and that turns out to be the case. It is perhaps the best we have visited this trip or last.  But that is a hard call because so many towns have been lovely.
Walking with our friends through the old town we enjoy the sights as always. Beyond the old buildings is a wide beautifully laid  promenade of shiny stone with conifers arching across it which meanders along the coast for some kilometers. Along the way we meet a fellow Aussie passenger who joins us for a drink at a very pleasant walk side cafe. The large cane lounges abut the promenade and we watch life go by with the aluring sea background as evening descends.
It is just dark as we walk back. Once again, the boat breakfast and lunch has made dinner unnecessary so we call into a supermarket for some cheese to have with on board.
There are a few other passengers on board so we talk  with live music on the shore in the background. At 10 Ro and I go for a walk before bed. As always in Croatia, we feel entirely safe as we walk in the opposite direction to our previous walk. We come across a restaurant by the sea which has stone terraces linked by short stairways. The lighting and surroundings are superb and we wish we had seen it earlier. A light dinner in this envirnment would have been something to remember. Walking a bit further we see a church with wonderful atmospheric lighting beyond the pebble beach we are now on.  Dinner or not, this is a place to remember. We would like to repeat this cruise in a couple of years so we will make a careful mental note of this place.
Returning to the boat, we settle in for our penultimate night on board. It is calm, quiet and warm. What more could we wish for?

Friday 29th August 2014 : Bol , Croatia.

We are down for breakfast by 8 and eat while we cruise to a fuel stop.
There are many boats waiting for fuel from two bowsers. The system of queuing is poorly defined or non existent. As our boat gets closer to the bowser, another yacht seems to be pushing in. We approach to within a metre or two but the yacht is undaunted and we do another circuit of the waterway. Eventually we tie up and over the  next 40 mnutes take on close to 1000 litres of diesel. This has taken up about 2 hours of our cruising time. However, considered within the overall cruise cost, we can't complain. Given that we will vacate the boat at 9am tomorrow and the next passengers will board at 11am, the crew will be flat out cleaning and  re provisioning, without having to refuel the boat.
Motoring to our last swim spot, we spend our last cruise hours in the magical waters.   The tender outboard was pulled apart by the crew last night but still does not want to perform. As we swim, it is in the water ostensibly for the safety of the swimmers. However the past days have shown that the swimmers more often rescue the tender than vice versa.
After lunch  we swim some more then by 3.30 we have to up anchor and head for Split where we arrive about 5pm.  We are rafted up to 6 other boats which will make getting ashore with our bags a bit more difficult. If we had moored where we boarded the boat, we would have been rafted to only one other boat and closer to the bus terminal.  But that is tomorrow's problem. Tonight we will explore Split a bit more.
It is still very warm so while other passengers take the serpentine path to the dock over the 6 boats, we will stay aboard until the sun us lower and it is a bit cooler. We have already had 3 nights here at the start so we can afford a bit of leisure.
By 7 we go off with our Australian friends to find where we had coffee before the trip. After a bit of wandering along the many alleyways, we find it and take a seat. We only want a few drinks but this does not suit the waiters. Around dinner time they only want dinner patrons, not people wanting a drink. We are moved on, despite there being 20 tables with only one occuppied.
Instead we return to the Dioclecian Palace square where there are cushions on the wide steps. It is still hot so we opt for air conditioning inside with a view to the square where a wedding is in progress. Our drinks arrive together with a bill which explains why the place is empty.
After a very nice, if expensive, wine, we walk through the bustling night markets to the port foreshore where we get a pancake for dinner with an ice cream to follow up. The ice creams are all uniform in price but the amount varies. It is merely the luck of the draw as to scoop size.
Returning to the boat about 10, we talk with fellow passengers until 11 before going to bed. At least being the outside boat again we have a peaceful night. We will need a good sleep for tomorrows marathon baggage haul to the bus.

Saturday 30th August 2014 : Split , Croatia.

It is the end of our cruise and we are a bit sad. We will miss the clear waters and the clean ports with their ancient buildings.
Breakfast was listed as being half an hour earlier at 7.30 because of our need to leave the boat by 9. When we arrive at the dining room at 7.30, half our fellow  passengers have finished as the time was altered to 7 unbeknown to us. Although it is of no major consequence, the staggered timing means there are no farewells en masse. Instead we farewell some as they leave the boat while others we don't. Those with whom we have formed some bond we have already exchanged email addresses. Some we may visit in their home countries and we have offered to show some around if they get to Australia.
Last night we purchased tickets on the airport shuttle bus for A$13 for both of us!!  Our bus leaves at 10 for a 2.30 flight to Paris. It is already getting quite warm so we are pleased when we arrive by 9.10 at the bus terminal, a five minute walk from the boat, to be put on the 9.30 bus. It is airconditioned so we are cool as we wait.
The drive out through Split is new to us but it is like any big city with just a hint of Croatian i non dotting and t non crossing. After 35 minutes we arrive at the airport which is air conditioned also but severely overcrowded. Split has continued to break records for visitors and the airport demonstrates this.
We have 3 hours to kill with nothing much to do. For whatever reason, it passes reasonably quickly and by 2 we are loaded onto the bus for transport to the A319 aircraft. The flight is 1 hour 50 and that passes fairly quickly. As always seems to be the case, the homeward trip seems quicker than the outward trip.
At Paris, we have 5 hours to kill but that also passes reasonably quickly. We are old hands at getting the shuttle between terminals so have no trouble finding terminal 2C from which our flight departs.
We had expected to have to collect and recheck our bags at CDG. However our baggage was checked from Split to Melbourne which is an unexpected bonus.  We queue at the ticket checkin before I find an attendant and ask if we need to queue since our baggage is checked. I am told we don't so we exit the queue and enter a much shorter one. However I then see an ticketing desk and go to confirm the informaion. Reminiscent of the Croatian Good Cop/Bad Cop scenario, the office checks on the computer and we are directed back to the longe queue which is now significantly longer than when we exited.
Still we have 5 hours to kill so we might just as well stand in the queue as sit elsewhere. Finally at the head of the queue we are directed to a checkin chick who informs us we are still booked on a flight which has been cancelled and the one we understood we were on is full. Beauty we think. Our bags are checked onto the Dubai/Melbourne flight but we are not. Perhaps they will have up upgrade us  to Business or First Class. Or we will have to sit on the lav all the way. None is correct. They find us some seats so our hopes of upgrading are dashed.
We still have 4 hours to kill when we walk past a piand with a "Play Me" sign on it. Here  is Ro's opportunity to add CDG to her list of public performances. With a little encouragement from me, when the previous performer vacates, she plays for 15 minutes until we need to head for our gate lounge, announcemens for which we cannot hear here. She is glad for the experience of playing on the bright red upright to hear its sound quality.
The A380 still amazes us. It is cavernous with 10 across and two decks. The upper deck on Emirates is Business and First Class and we look sadly at the upper aerobridge which we had thought may ahve been ours to experience. Instead we crowd onto the lower deck to our seats which are still quite good for leg room.

Sunday 31st August 2014 : Dubai Airport , UAE.

The six hour flight to Dubai does not pass so quickly but finally we disembark in the huge Dubai Airport. Once again we have shuttles, lifts and elevators to navigate.
Everything in the terminal is gigantic. Dubai is experiencing huge growth also and is expected to overtake Paris and London as a destination in the near future. Unlike Split, Dubai is ready. The lifts are huge and there are two side by side for passenger transport. The lifts are aesthetically attractive designs in themselves. The contract for them must have been quite lucrative. As must the contract for the building as everything is very pleasing to the eye and of high quality. They have just spent US$9 billion on upgrading.
We have 2 hours in Dubai so we head for the recliner lounges which are spread about. They are still a scarce resource in the terminal but we are lucky to get two. Both uf us have had little sleep but dispite this the recliner lounges do little to help. We now have the rather arduous 12 hour flight to Melbourne. At least we are home at the end of this leg.
The flight is called and we board the A380. We have centre aisle seats on this leg. That means we can get up to stretch without disturbing others and we don't have others climbing over us: a significant advantage on a 12 hour flight.
The first 3 hours drag a bit until we discover a new series of 'Outnumbered' which has not shown in Australia yet. Watching all six episodes gets rid of some more hours then a final movie as we approach Melbourne.

Monday 1st September 2014 : Melbourne ,Australia.

I have 40 minutes of my movie left and we reach Melbourne in 45 minutes. With interruptions from cabin announcements I watch the last scenes of the movie when we are 100 feet above the runway. I feel the comforting thud as we touch down to Australian ground.
The wait at the baggage carousel  is slightly tense.  We can imagine the dialogue at Split Airport.... "These bags go to Melbourne. No, they go to Sydney. No, they stay here". A group of bags exits the infeed conveyor; then nothing for 15 minutes. Are they going for mislayed baggage record?   Finally more bags emerge and a bit later we have both our bags.
The SkyBus whisks us into Southern Cross Station with almost no delay then we walk 300 metres to the Met bus. When it leaves at 7.10 we drive as tourists in our own city. Melbourne only has a short european history and lacks the wonder of past achievements in buildings. But it has wide, well planned access roads, plenty of green areas and is well maintained. Although it is nice to visit Europe, Australia is a nice place to live. By 8am we are walking down our street.
Our odyssey was less odd than in previous years. Maybe we are old hands at it after 4 years. Now to book for next year when we will visit Scandinavia.