France 2011

Europe 2019

marfee7 — Thu, 13 Jun 2019 22:45:00 GMT

Monday 10 June 2019 Melbourne

Having taken 2017 off to look after our new, and first, grandchild, we decided this year that we better get back to our van to see if, after 2 years, the mice have left anything for us. It is with some reservation that we leave Jack for the 9 weeks we will be away as we have got to know him well in the 19 months he has been on the earth. Fortunately with today's technology and WhatsApp in particular we should be able to aswage our guilt.

Leaving this year did not involve any last minute renovations which is a change from previous years, although the moment we get back there is a list of work to do. I may need a holiday at the conclusion. In the run up to leaving, the most inconvenient part was our banking. We have used a Netcode device for security over the past 10 years and I thought the battery may be getting iffy. So I requested a new device which we duly received. However the bank said they no longer support that technology so I could no longer use it. Instead I was required to use roaming to receive SMSs. But my telco did not provide roaming. So I canged providers, understanding I could switch off voice calls and just receive SMSs to keep roaming charges down. But that was wrong. I complained to the bank and they said I had spoken to the wrong person and they could activate the netcode device. So at least I now had roaming which I could control by turning it off most of the time from my account. Great....... except I need internet access to then turn it on again. It seems technology is designed to whet our appitites then deny us access.

But after perhaps less than the usual frustrations, the day has arrived. As it is forecast to be wet, we choose to Uber to the airport and are pleasantly surprised when the cost is only a few dollars more than our usual bus trip and much dryer and more convenient.

Our flight to Singapore on a Qantas A380 is uneventful, on time and up to the usual Qantas standard. Furthermore, for some unknown reason it seems to pass quite quickly. We have a 4 hour wait at Changi before a 12 hour flight to Paris. Hopefully that will also pass quickly.

Our departure is on time at 10.35 Singapore time. Due to a bit of early turbulance, our supper, a full blown meal, is later than usual. It is then lights out for what we assume will be our usual non-sleeping constant clock watching; our version of “Are we there yet”. However, contrary to previous years, we both get a few 15 minute sleeps which makes the trip seem shorter and we feel better on arrival at CDG on time at 6am local time.

Tuesday 11 June 2019 Paris

By the time we clear boarder control and arrive at the baggage carousel, our frist bag is just moving into sight. Second bag should be close by. But it is not. We spend an anxious 10 minutes waiting for it to appear among the increasingly sparce procession of baggage on the conveyor. With all the stuff I bring over to the van, including a pump, battery charger, assorted electronic devices etc, I always expect an announcement by security asking me to explain. But eventually it turns up and we head for the train.

Our TGV leaves Paris Nord du Gard around 10 so we must take a local train. After purchasing two 10 euro tickets from the ticket machine, it is a short walk to the platform which we believe to be the correct one. Despite our familiarity with CDG and its train system, there is always some uncertainty until we see a few station names pass to show us we are going in the right direction.

At Nord du Gard our train, which turns out to be a slower TER rather than a TGV, leaves from two or three levels above us. Rather than carry two 20 KG bags up stairs we want to take the lift. There is a group of people with luggage ready to get into the smallish lift and we don't think we will fit. But we are encouraged by the occupants to squeeze in. However, there is insufficient room for Ro so she will walk up the stairs while I accompany the baggage. However, after a few moments of button pushing, we collectively reach the conclusion that the lift is overloaded and I exit with two bags, a backpack and Ro's heavy hand luggage. I struggle up the stairs just to see Ro about to go down in the lift to find me.Fortunately she hears my somewhat out of breath cries and exits the lift to join me.

But we still have another level to ascend. The direction to the platform is well signposted but we can only find stairs or downward escalators from the level above. Finally we find a lift but that too will not respond to our “up” requests. Finally Ro looks above through the glass ceiling and is met by concrete. It is a down lift not an up lift. After requests to two or three people in Fringlish, we finally understand that we have to exit the barriers before we can access the next level. A trap for what should be not so new players. After a 2 hour wait on hard seats finally our train platform number is shown and we can settle onto our train.

It had been our intention to have coffee on the train but we discover there is no cafe on board. The train does not leave for 15 minutes so Ro decides to go back to get coffee from a vendor on the platform. As the departure time approached I get a bit nervous. She had left without phone, credit card or passport and if she misses the train we have a major problem. We won't make that mistake again......assuming she gets the train and there is a next time. Fortunately she is back with 5 minutes to spare. She had been watching the clock closely but that did not help me.

The TER proves not to be much slower than a TGV. The extra time over the TGV service is spent waiting in platforms along the way. But the 3 hours passes reasonably quickly and comfortably.

The train we normally get to Beaurainville is out of action, presumably for rail repairs so we have a 30 minute bus ride. The driver is a woman dressed in black, with sun glasses and high heeled boots. Very French, and a very competent driver. We are delivered to Beaurainville station and fortunately the weather is not wet as was forecast. A 20 minute walk and we are finally at the van, 38 hours after we left Home. On previous occasions we have been nearly asleep by this time but the little sleep we gained on the plane has helped.

The windscreen is opaque due to the fine dust in the barn which has accumulated for the last two years. After a bit of washing we are ready to go.

We have booked a Control Technique, a required biennial roadworthy, at Decra for tomorrow 10am but because it is only 3.30 and the French work late due to the extended lunch break, we drive there on the offchance they might do it today. “Impossible” is the response. So we continue on to Aldi next door to buy some requirements, including dinner.

We will stay the night by a river where there is a canoeing course and where we have stayed before, There are plenty of people using the course but no one seems bothered by our parking there. We have dinner and go to bed, sleeping easily until 7am.

India 2017

marfee7 — Sat, 16 Dec 2017 21:34:00 GMT

Friday 8^th December 2017, Melbourne

When our son Scot married Maya, we inherited an extended Indian family on Maya's father's side Gujji) and a rather smaller extended Ukranian family on her mother's side(Kate). At their wedding, we met both extended families, although the Ukranian side is really Australian, Maya's mother and siblings having lived in Australia practically since birth.

We got on well with both sides, however, the Indian side, mostly still resident in India, represented a culture with which we were not familiar, despite similar science backgrounds.

It was thus with considerable pleasure that we received an invitation to the wedding of Namrata, Gujji's niece, to be held mid December.

While we have travelled extensively in Europe in recent years, we have not visited any Asian countries since our honeymoon in Fiji back in the stone age. India will certainly be an experience.

As Ro is not enamoured of heat and humidity, we are fortunate that we are visiting in the dead of winter. Temperatures will drop as low as 26 degrees with 50 or 60 % humidity. Better pack the ski gear.

So Friday dawns at about 19 degrees in Melbourne at the start of summer. We are taking the Met bus to the city and the Sky bus from there, leaving at 12 noon for our Thai Airways flight at 3.30 pm bound for Chennai, formerly Madras, via Bangkok.

All goes according to plan, despite the fact that we could not print our boarding passes at home. One of the advantages with on line checkin is that the bag drop off for internet checked in passengers is far shorter than for chose checking in at the airport.

The flight to Bangkok is smooth and passes quite quickly. At Bangkok we have a one hour wait for our connecting flight to Chennai, a 3 ½ hour flight during which we manage some sleep before arriving at 12.30 am. or 6 am Melbourne time.

We have organised eVisas in Melbourne which are one quarter the cost visas obtained in Melbourne. We thought there may be a cost in time at the India end but instead the queue for e visas is a fraction that for Melbourne obtained visas. Nevertheless, it takes 45 minutes to reach the head of the queue.

The only other hold up is to have our bags x-rayed before we pick up our hold baggage. This is presumably in case we smuggle some weapon off the aircraft which was not detected by the multiple x rays we went through going on to the aircraft. We also walk through a personal metal detector which beeps due to metal in my shoes. However, as ther is no attendant, I pick up my scanned bag and continue. Beaurocracy in India takes many unusual forms.

The advantage of the wait is that at baggage pickup, our single bag is just passing as we arrive at the carrousel so we exit immediately.

Outside it is not unlike a sauna. We are not prepared for the hoards of people and crush of cars. Fortunately, within the ocean of faces are those of Gujji and Indu, also a niece of Gujji, who spot us and quickly join us.

Indu has prebooked a taxi and we are loaded into one and are shortly thereafter within the throng of vehicles leaving the airport.

We have been warned that traffic in India is chaotic, but we are not prepared for the reality. Gujji had invited me to sit in the front but I soon learn that this is as much a result of his discomfort with the chaotic traffic as it is hospitality for a guest.

In Paris we have observed that various road signs are “un petit suggestion” whereas here the only purpose road signs seem to fulfil is definition of where the road stops and the pavement starts. Mind you, this is a mute point as pavements are rarely used by pedestrians, even on the odd occasion when the footpaths are actually trafficable. Rather, the road is shared by cars, motor rickshaws, motorbikes, pedel powered vehicles, pedestrians, dogs and the odd cow. One would wonder how there is enough room for all and the answer is: there isn't. Instead, paths of vehicles resemble Brownian motion (the path of molecules in a gas) with a great amount of honking to avoid or at least minimize collisions.

Red lights seem to only vary from green lights in colour alone, not function. Zebra crossings are mere decorations on the road and lane markings are there presumably to support the road marking industry, not actually to define lanes.

After 30 minutes or so we reach our apartment which we can enter by squeezing past a water tanker.

Saturday 9^th December 2017, Chennai

By 2am, we are ready for a proper sleep and very glad to participate in the activity.

After a good sleep we are downstairs by 8am ready for our included buffet breakfast. We have been warned that we must be very careful what we eat if we are to avoid Delhi Belly. Any water we ingest must we either well boiled or bottled. Even bottled water may or maynot have the pedigree we require. Even when showering, a full face showercap is almost mandatory.

There is a juice of some description. We have been told that fruits should only be consumed if they have outer skins. So does the juice come from fruits with outer skins? Let us guess 'yes'. Now for cerial. Confflakes. Should be OK. Milk? Doesn't matter as there is no cold milk available but whether the hot milk is sufficiently hot to be bug free is questionable. This is complicated. We are asked if we want omlets. They should be OK. All this brainwork is making us hungry, but what food is safe to eat to feed our brains? It seems with the large number of Indians, the food can't be too toxic. I think we will cast caution to the wind and use common semse. But we draw a line in the sand when it comes to water from a jug on the table.

Lakshmi is Gijji's sister and her house is 150 metres away. As we are not sure which direction, Gujji has offered to meet us at reception to lead the way. Lakshmi's house is within a compound which has one other house which is the original family home in which they lived when growing up. As we enter the compound, we are welcomed with a Hindu water ceremony which involves swilling coloured water in a wide, flat brass bowl. This, we understand, attracts and captures bad spirits. The water is then thrown over a chalk insignia drawn on the pavement. Removing our shoes, we enter the home where we meet again the sisters, and nieces we met in Australia two years ago. The bond formed then is still strong and we again enjoy their company.

The day is spent in diverse discussions with family members and friends as they come and go. Over the next few days we will learn a new lifestyle where the home is the central base from which people come and go through out the day. Whereas in Australia each family member retreats to his or her own space, here there is much more sense of community. Admittedly, Namrita's wedding may be influencing normal family behaviour, but the stronger sense of family is readily apparent.

In the afternoon Namrita needs to go to the fruit shop so I accompany her. I want to visit an ATM so we call into one. It is in a decripit room albeit air conditioned. The machine takes my card and goes through a long series of questions before finally declaring the card invalid. We go further to another equally decrepit room where the machine provides me with some cash. I must have chosen the good machine because another one there does not work and the customer has to wait for me to finish. Apart from the two machines, there are cabinets open to the world with cables, circuit boards and other electrical innards all exposed. One wonders how security is effected. But this is India. We return with fruit and a 5 litre bottle of trusted Bislari water.

Around 7pm, Gujji suggest we go for a walk to the main street. It is still oprerssively hot and humid so Ro opts for the air conditioned space while Gujji and I go walking.

The streets are crowded with people and traffic. There are food shops, shops full of utensils, souveneir shops, fruit shops and numerous others.

Along the way beggers and vendors follow us with remarkable tenacity. Gujji suggests his having a westerner in tow makes him a target. One vendor of books he finally dissuades from following us by giving 100 rupee without accepting the book she was selling.

Back at our apartment, I go inside while Gujji returns to Lakshmi's house. The apartment is comfortable and cool and we get a good nights sleep.

Sunday 10^th December 2017, Chennai

After breakfast we return to Lakshmi's house. Ro wants to look at some material shops and Indu offers to accompany us, driving us there in her car.

As we approach, we need to find a parking place. Cars are angle parked and just as we pass a group of cars, one has its reverse lights on. We can reverse along the road before the car exits but this appears no mean feat. As we reverse, motorbikes go either side, cars squeeze past and pedestrians sidestep the vehicle.

The exiting vehicle is slightly protected by the upstream presence of our car but to exit the space he must reverse into the fast moving stream of traffic. A man appears and directs the traffic as best he can to a near stop which allows the vehicle to depart. We drive into the space and Indo gives the man 20 rupees, explaining to us that he will look after the car and help us exit the spot on our return. In this resourseful country, men like this man comandeer four or five parking places and help drivers gain access and exit for a small payment. It is entrapneurship on a micro scale.

The shop we enter to look at fabrics is small with shelves lining either wall about three or four meters apart. There are 7 or 8 attendants to serve the few customers . A lift or flight of stairs accesses four other similar floors each with a similar number of attendants. A rough count of bolts of fabric on each wall suggests that there are some hundreds of thousands of fabrics on offer!

Despite, or perhaps because of, the huge range, no decision is made on a fabric to buy so we exit the air conditioned shop back to the oppressive outside heat and head back to Laksmi's house where we sit and talk until lunch time when Scot and Maya arrive.

The rest of the day is spent in the company of various relations who come and go at regular intervals until evening when after dinner we return to our apartment.

Monday 11^th December 2017, Chennai

Today we want to go, with Scot and Maya, to a beach near the town of Mahavlipuram where there are archiological carvings dating back 1500 years.

We can hire a car and driver for 2500 rupees (about 50 AUD) to take us there and back. He is due to pick us up about 9. It remains to be seen if it is 9 Indian time or Standard time. Indian time is not very precise. One way or another, we are on our way about 10.

Although it is not mandatory to wear seatbelts, we feel more comfortable with them. They are well buried in the seat, obviously not having had much use. The driver does not see the need for one for himself.

If the drive from the airport was an eye opener, this is more of an eye closer. The road is an open canvas on which driver ply their art form. This drivers art form is decidedly Pro Hart. He manipulates his SUV into spaces which are too small for the vehicle but which miraculously open up as he approaches at breakneck speed. Whereas we have found hazard lights are a “get out of gaol free” card in Europe, the horn is the equivalent here. What a toot means is unclear but the use of it seems to open wormholes. At one point an ambulance passes with siren and flashing lights but his rate of progress is only marginally faster than ours.

Along the way, the driver decides we need fuel. We stop for 12 litres of diesel then continue along the divided road. Most main roads here have heavy concrete barriers in an effort to keep the traffic sides isolated. They fail dismally. If there is less traffic in the oncoming lane, we use that, dodging and weaving between oncoming vehicles.

About half a kilometer after the fuel stop, the driver cannot see any increase in the fuel guage and smells a rat. How one could small a rat over all the other odours is beyond me, but he does.

The solution is to return to the station. However there are no breaks in the barrier so we just drive against the traffic at a speed not much slower than those approaching. But this is normal rather than deviant behaviour.

Back at the station, there is an aminated discussion in an Indian language which we don't understand. After telephone calls which the driver makes and the operator takes,which last about 10 minutes, we continue without resolution. The fact that we don't run out of fuel probably means we got the 12 litres, but we never find out exactly.

After two hours of Luna Parkesque excitement, we arrive at the town. What we have come to see is a group of archiological monuments carved out of solid rock. There are numerous temples and shrines and the odd boulder balancing seeming precariously on top of a rocky slope. Although it rests on a pad of perhaps less than one metre square, it has balanced there for centuries unmoved by tsunamis, hurricanes and unruly tourists, not necessarily in order of decreasing destructiveness.

It is very hot and humid but the odd breeze provides relief. After walking around the site for an hour, dodging the hawkers with decreasing success, we head toward the beach for lunch. Our driver takes us there, giving us some air conditioned luxury before depositing us near the sea.

No one swims here. There is a handful of fishing boats at sea and others beached on the sand along with mounds, the motionless ones of which we identify as fishing nets and the moving ones of which we identify as cows. A few people are wading in the water up to their calves but no one is swimming.

We have lunch up three storeys in an open rooftop restaurant. The roof is an early version of a space frame made of branches roped together with a cliplok type metal clading.

We think fried fish and chips may be the safest bet. We are shown a tray of fish each about 300 mm long and trays of prawns. But whereas the fish and chips on the menu are 350 rupees (7AUD) the fish on the tray are 1200 rupees (24AUD). Maya suggests we point to the menu item to minimize risk of plausible confusion, which is common and universally in favour of the vendor.

The fish and chips turn out to be not the fish fillet we had expected but a whole fried fish. The reason it is not filleted is that there seems almost no flesh to fillet. Furthermore, Ro did not think to ask for no spice, not thinking that putting spice in a fish fillet is possible. It is.

By 2 pm we are ready to return. The trip back encroaches on peak hour providing even more excitement. The only difference is that on this trip occasionally we come to a complete stop. This necessitates more frequent use of the horn, though the results with everything stationary are less miraculous.

Back at Lakshmi's home, we relax again then have dinner before giving in to the heat and retreating to our air conditioned apartment.

Tuesday 12^th December 2017, Chennai

We have arranged to go for a walk with Gujji at 6.30am as it is a little cooler and less crowded then. I have set the alarm to sound at 6am and at the appointed time, it performs its duty. However it still looks dark and, after some confusion, we determine that I have used the wrong phone which is still on Melbourne time. It is really 12.30 am. Take two is with the correct alarm but we are awake before it sounds anyway.

We meet Gujji in the foyer and proceed in some direction. I still have not got my bearings here so what direction it was I don't know.

The roads are much quitere, both aurally in terms of horn tooting and numbers of vehicles. Since everyone walks on the road rather than the pavements, we are beginning to understand that here one keeps on the same straight path no matter what is approaching. Faster vehicles will steer around you, toot you or if there is nowhere to go, stop. The important thing is not to deviate. Movements are strictly rectilinear or , perhaps, a gradual deviation. The important thing is not to make sudden moves. We don't see anyone running and certainly pedestrians don't run and weave. That is left to motorbikes.

There is a remarkable impression of decay and incompleteness here. Even newly completed buildings don't look new due to the dishevelment around them.

There is a small park with walking tracks which at 6.45am are crowded with people. There are people exercising on equipment, people in yoga poses, others in laughter groups. It is lovely to see so many interested in exercising. However the vast population means the percentage may be the same as those walking in Melbourne on any given morning. It is interesting to note that everyone goes in the same clockwise direction, unlike the road traffic.

Despite it being cooler, Ro is getting very hot so after a big loop, we return to our apartment to cool off.

Lakshmi made it known last night that she would be decorating the pavement in front of the front house, as is their custom for festive celebrations. She was starting at 7.30 so we want to observe the porcess. As it happens, we are a bit late and must be content with observing the result rather than the process. The result is ornate and precise. I ask Lakshmi how it can be so precise, being 4 metres square and done by hand. She points to the concrete tiles which act as a reference.

The patterns used to be hand marked but now there are rotary stencils which repeat a pattern by rolling a cylinder filled with rice flower along the surface to be marked. Holes in the cylinder make a continuous uniform pattern as the white flour drops through the holes. We are invited to add to the pattern which we do, adding a boarder some metres outside their art work.

Throughout the morning and early afternoon we continue to observe the preparations, which include floral arrangements over gates and in porches. More relations arrive, coming and going on a regular basis.

Kate, Maya's mother arrives late morning and after lunch in the front house, we walk to a bazzar where we buy more floral arrangements and some additional clothing. Part of the wedding festivities are multiple clothing changes requiring 5 suitcases of saris etc to be transported to the wedding hall where the ceremonies will take place over the next two days. The saying “Bigger than Ben Hur” takes on a new meaning.

After lunch on the top of the front house, Rani's house, we walk to Pondi Bazzar again. Indu bought a sari top for Ro which is dark blue but Ro thinks a black one would be better. Scot and Maya had looked for one this morning without success but Indu thinks she knows where to find one.

It is only a short walk but it means crossing a major divided road. I am starting to get the hang of being a pedestrian on the roads, including the risky business of actually crossing one. Selecting an appropriate gap sometimes is a lengthy process and even when one presents itself, there is always the likelihood that a two wheeler (motorbike) will speed past an SUV on the inside. Indu believes that India's roads are proof positive that God exists. I am beginning to agree.

Scot and Maya are picking up some suit coats which Scot has had altered. The store where the alterations have been done is celebrating 50 years in business and has offered free alterations. He did not feel right about accepting the offer so bought a shirt from the usual 5 or 6 attendants hovering aroiund as the measurements were taken,

Indu and I continue up the street, dodging pot holes, beggars, street vendors and traffic. We enter the bazzar and walk along narrow rows overflowing with merchandise. Where one stall stops and another starts is not clear, but there is always an attendant within arm's reach to serve if interest is shown in any item.

We wind our way through the maze and are disgorged into the street behind where we want to buy some bamboo leaf ornaments. The vendor is sitting on the dirt pavement among the general rubble. The ornaments are made up according to order so we will return in 10 minutes after the sari top is bought.

Further up the street there is a fabric shop again overflowing with merchandise. Somehow within the thousands of items the attendant goes to a shelf where sari tops are stacked. The attendand removes a few and Indu chooses two which we purchase for 750 rupee (15AUD).

Back at the bamboo ornament vendor, our order is ready. We pay a few hundred rupee and continue on to the dry cleaner, another 3 metre by 2 metre shop, lined with hundreds of garments and with three attendants.

Back at Lakshmi's house we again talk as visitors come and go. Later there is dinner in the front house before we return to the cool of our apartment. It is fortunate this is mid winter.

Wednesday 13^th December 2017, Chennai

Today we travel to the wedding hall, about 40 minutes away. We have a leisurely morning then lunch at Lakshmi's before packing in order to leave by 2pm.

Our driver is as relaxed as the last one was frenetic. Although traffic is far removed from road traffic in Melbourne, this driver behaves more like those we are used to. Less tooting, less rapid stopping and greater clearances to other vehicles and pedestrians. Despite this, he gets through the traffic with ease.

When we arrive at the location which the phone GPS has guided us to, we have some difficulty finding the wedding hall. A few directions from locals and we find a large compound with a high wall which has a sign welcoming us to Dwaraka Kalyana Mandapam (wedding place).

There is a large air conditioned hall with grounds in which is a block of hotel style rooms in which we are to be billetted. The first ceremony starts at 3.30 and it is now 3. However the rooms will be ready in 10 minutes. After 20, we have one room so we leave our bags there and walk to the hall.

Arriving about 3.30, the first of many ceremonies is underway. The couple are welcomed in a ceremony similar to that with which we were welcomed at Lahshmi's home. It is only a few minutes before the couple followed by perhaps 30 people enter the wedding hall.

There is an archway with LED strings of lights which are not yet lit with a red carpet leading to the hall entrance. There are flowers and ornaments hanging above our heads. Some of the bamboo leaf ornaments similar to those which we had made are hanging here but they are rather more ornate, including a bamboo leaf ring with a red eyed bamboo leaf bird sitting on it.

Inside there is a stage at one end with several hundred seats mostly plastic chairs covered with elegant fabric. There are two rows of arm chairs at the front. The stage has what appears to be a very solid ornately carved wooden lintle which we later discover by tapping, is fibreglass. Around the stage hangs gold fabric and there are garlands of flowers draped about.

There are more people in the hall and they either mill around the outer edges of the hall or are seaten on the chairs. We avoid the front two rows of armchairs but later come to understand these rows are not reserved for anyone in particular.

The couple makes their way to the stage for the engagement ceremony. Although they have been notionally engaged for some months, this is the official recognition of the betrothal.

What now begins sets the stage, so to speak, for what happens over the next two days.

The couple is involved continuously on the stage while guests may choose to join the ceremony on the stage (after removing shoes), observe from the body of the hall or chat to other guests. And guests there are plenty. They are expecting 500.

The ceremonies often involve fire which burns or smokes on the stage covering everyone with somewhat pungent smoke. There is a lot of chanting and numerous symbolic gestures which often involve walking either with the couple together or separately.

There is no effort on the part of the guests to keep quiet and life goes on around the ceremony. We even observe a cleaner sweeping the floor. There are camera people hovering about and some parts of the ceremony are telecast onto 8 video monitors around the hall. When the telecast is functioning seems to be totally random.

As guests converse, there are food snacks and drinks in the form of coffee always available. Then about 6pm we are offered dinner. This is another cultural shock. As there are so many people, eating is in shifts. Where the food is served, there are 6 long trestles about 600 mm wide each seating perhaps 20 people in a row. The plastic covered tables have a sheet of gray absorbent paper as a table cloth and in front of each place is a banana leaf around 400 x 300 mm. This is the plate we will use. As Indians use their right hand for eating, there is no cutlery. We few westerners can request a plastic spoon.

There are wait staff in abundance and 10 or 15 of them have stainless steel buckets and ladles from which each dispenses a tablespoon sized serve of whatever dish is in his bucket. Soon the green banana leaf is adorned with dollops of colourful food of various consistencies and the obligatory scoop of rice. Some of the food is quite hot with spice, some is sweet but to my western palate, there is an overall similarity. There is no meat at all, as there has not been any time since we flew in.

The waiters are very attentive and our leaves are replenished unless we firmly delcline. When a table is vacated, the paper cloth is rolled up with the bannana leaves and replaced for the next sitting. Over the two days, we experience this three times. We have noted on many occasions that Indians are nothing if not practical.

Back in the hall the ceremonies are still proceeding in preparation for the wedding ceremonies tomorrow.

Around 7.30 we return to our air conditioned rooms. Oddly enough there is a light doona on the bed so in order not to overheating, if we want a bed covering we must set the air conditioning to 19. Rather odd when it is perhaps 28 outside. Sometimes the Indian practicality fails.

Thursday 14^h December 2017, The Wedding Venue

Today the wedding ceremonies take place. They start at 7.30 am but it will be some hours before they are symbolically tied as man and wife.

Today is more formal so the majority of women are dressed in colourful, beautifully adorned saris and the men in Indian clothes, including dhotis which are floor length wraps and loose long shirts. Both Ro and I enter into the spirit which apparently is successful as one guest who met us yesterday asks Scot, as we talk to him, where his parents are. As a sari must be draped correctly, the aqua coloured sari in which Ro has been dressed really suits her so the mistake is understandable. During the two daqys of ceremonies, the bride changes 8 or 10 times and each outfit is, unsurprisingly, spectacular, as is the whole scene in colour and movement.

Part of the ceremony involves the groom having second thoughts about the wedding and symbolically strolling off with a walking stick to contemplate a life as a monk. He wanders out to the entrance with many guests in tow where he is later joined by the father of th bride. In this case, Gujji performs that role as Namrata's father, Gijji's brother, unfortunately died many years ago. In that role, Gujji offers the groom two coconuts as dowry and a deal is struck. Namrata then joins them as guests watch and a process of swapping of garlands starts. The groom offers the bride a garland which she avoids then the bride offers the groom a garland which he avoids. This goes on back and forth for 5 or 6 times, with the guests noisily cheering as each garland finds its mark around the recipient's neck. Finally the bride and groom resolve to go through with the wedding.

All return to the hall where the ceremonies continue but now an extra layer of sound and movement is added as a loud drum and trumpet like musical instrument add to the frenetic pace. Chants and prayers are loudly layered by a powerful PA system. Naturally the guests converstaions must increase in volume to counter the added noise so the process is not recommended for those with delicate hearing.

Eventually a cushion is brought around the guests for us to touch and offer our blessings. It has a gold chain on it later to be placed over the bride's head and assorted other items. Not understanding the process, I think I am being offered something so ,to be on the safe side, I decline. My mistake is politely pointed out and I offer my touch to the cushion as blessing. Lucky I am not into gold chains. My mistakenly accepting that may have dismayed the groom considerably.

Some time later the groom places the well blessed chain over the brides head to the loud applause of the guests. Many of the garlands have been dissembled and the petals are given to the guests to throw over the bride and groom.

There is lunch available in the same manner as last night and breakfast this morning then the guests start to disburse. However, the ceremonies continue for some hours more for the bride and groom but under the gaze of many less people.

The wedding has been an event of a lifetime for us and we are so pleased to have been included. It is well removed from how weddings occur in the west but has some major advantages. It is a time for family to meet and the extended family to be introduced. I have a number of stimulating conversations with various people and all are without exception very friendly, which we find is generally the case in India. Politeness, occasionally to a fault, is uniquitous and Indian people are gentle and tolerant.

Now that the wedding is over, we are to get a taxi down the coast to a charity organisation with which Gijji has been involved for many years. It is called The East West Foundation of India. It was set up by and Indian doctor resident in Australia to provide education for children, initially female children but now for both sexes. Children of impoverished families are housed and educated from early childhood to college level without cost to the families. Gujji hopes that we might get involved after seeing what the foundation does.

We arrive around 5. The foundation was originally set up by selling blocks of land to Australian Indians some of whom have built comfortable homes on the land. A separate compound has a children's home and schooling facility together with some treatment plants, a biogas generator and some solar power.

The house we are staying in is very nice. Gujji said it was like a resort and that is a fair description. It is very open plan and doors open it to outside. Although there is no air conditioning, there are numerous ceiling fans which we find very effective. Our view out from the lounge area is toward the sea but what we actually see is a backwater where fishing boats pass frequently. Their engines are quite loud but don't run for long before they disappear from view. They are powered by propellers on long shafts which allow the boats to operate in shallow waters.

We have our own cook who is a tiny Indian lady with a broad smile. She makes dinner for us which we eat at 7.30 before sitting in the lounge enjoying the quiet....well mostly quiet as strains of eastern music waft over the land from some kilometers away.

The lounge. sleeping areas and kitchen surround a sunken courtyard and a fish pond. There is a narrow walkway across to a small island with a chair and view to the backwater. Excellent for a meditation session.

We turn in early as we are tired, perhaps because of the humidity. While I am showering, Scot brings Ro into the bathroom. Unfortunately she has lost her footing crossing the narrow bridge and fallen into the pond. In the process, she has bumped a small table on which is sitting a statue, perhaps the Godess of Longevity and Wellbeing, which has followed her into the pool abraiding her head in the process. As that part of the pool is only 900 mm square, together with the god's abraision, she has a few bumps and scratches but nothing serious. Just a bit sore. Of more concern is an injury to her achilles tendon which might make walking a bit difficult. Fortunately it does not greatly hamper her sleeping.

Friday 15^h December 2017, East West Foundation of Indis

Our stay at this house had been open ended. Scot and Maya have to leave today as they have an early flight Saturday. Given Ro's sore foot, we think it better to return with them this afternoon.

After breakfast, there is time for Scot Maya and I to go for a walk. The only tourist attraction is a ruin of a Fort from the 14^th or 15^th century which is about 3 km away.

We walk to the local village which was relocated following the 2004 tsunami. East West was fortunately spared as the tsunami vented the wave up the backwater without any damage. The village was less fortunate.

We walk through the village which shows little signs of activity. Most activity is by the sea in the form of fishing boats coming and going. There are numerous goats and the odd cow. As always there is dishevelment all around, including a bonfire of two or three motorcycles which are now piles of rusted steel and melterd alloy.

All that remains of the fort is external walls. A sign informs us it was destroyed in the 17^th century. The walls are of brick and mortar with sophistocated weapon holes for distant attack, close attack and mid range attack. It was quite a structure in its time until for what ever reason it was breached and destroyed.

Returning to East West, we look more closely at the water treatment plant. It looks like it needs some attention but that is the norm here.

By 3 we are ready to return to Chennai. The East West driver who is ferrying us drives competently but fast and with a lot of tooting. The tooting makes a lot of sense as it usually causes other drivers or pedestrians to look our way thus ensuring they have seen us. Most trucks have a sign “Sound Horn” on the back. If a horn toot does not attract a response, that is the sign for a longer toot or if necessary a continuous blast. If all else fails, it may be necessary to come to a complete stop; but not often.

Back at Chennai, the traffic is again chaotic but we make good progress and arrive at Lakshmi's house about 5.30. We will check in to Lotus apartments again soon for one night then another apartment for Saturday night as Lotus is full Saturday.

The plan is to rest Ro's foot in the hope it will not get worse so she is in the apartment by 6.30 where I join her later. It is a bit like going home as we have the same room as earlier this week.

Saturday 16^h December 2017, Chennai

We are aware of not overstaying our welcome. Because our hosts are so hospitable, we need to be aware that they need time to relax after the busy time of the wedding which required a great deal of organisation. Obviously they are not going to tell us so we need to try to lay low. But that is not easy as they still insist on including us in their meal arrangements.

We spend this morning resting and catching up on some memoirs then go to Lakshmi's around 1 pm. Only Lakshmi, Indu and Lully are present as others are visiting relatives. Although they had their lunch around 10.30 as is their custom, there is some lunch for us after which we sit and chat for another hour or so. It is quite hot today but the ceiling fans keep it pleasant.

We can keep our room at Lotus until 6 pm as rooms are let on a 24 hour basis. Then we will make our way to another apartment block, Pebbles which is perhaps 500 metres away. If we check in there at 6 is we can occupy the room until 6 tomorrow night and they have agreed to us having 2 hours extra which brings us to 8pm when we leave for the airport. Kate is flying out 1 ½ hours before us so we will go to the airport together tomorrow.

The day is spent relaxing and catching up on reading, blogs and foot repair. We had rung Flight Centre in Australia to see whether we could get an earlier flight but were advised that an alteration would cost at least $700 per person. Not appealing when the return flight was $1100 per person. So we are largely marking time.

We visit Lakshmi's house where she, Lully and Indu are present, everyone else being out and about visiting some of the dozens of relations in the Chennai area.

As 5.30 approaches, we pack and make our way to Pebbles, Despite the dishevellment, the concrete roads are in good condition in the area so towing our wheelie bag is not difficult. As my phone is not loggod on to the wifi, we had missed a call from Indu offering to drive us to Pebbles so when we return to Lakshmi's, Gujji and Indu are wondering where we are,

We decide to go out for dinner to a hotel quite close by. After walking the familiar roads with their broken pavements and vehicles in various states of disrepair then out to the main road with its rubbish, dirt and mess, we walk into the hotel compound. The difference is as stark as could be imagined.

The grounds are well paved and tidy leading up a gentle slope to a grand entrance. The staff are immaculately dressed and as always in great abundance. As we walk into the foyer there is an x ray machine and a metal detector through which we walk. If there are people inspecting the output of the machine, we cannot see them. Maybe there are machine guns trained at us from hidden locations, or maybe, despite its appearances, the Indian method of doing things is just below the surface.

Wtether or not the Indian method is present, walking into the hotel is like a rapid exit from Chennai. The towering ceilings are held up by ornate columns and everywhere is dripping with opulence.

We take the lift to the 20^th floor where a restaurant with seating for perhaps 100 people in a circular space is dwarfed by the towering ceiling and a wide walkway circumnavigating the eating area. More wait staff hover in their perfectly tailored white uniforms.

We want to eat on the roof area so continue around the walkway and out onto the roof. There is a strong wind which is a beautiful temperature and there is a lovely view across the city. There is even the odd firework.

We are shown to a table for 6 and menus brought to us. A slight problem is that there is insufficient light to read them. However we manage to order an Australian wine and meals. My first response is to order beef medallions however Gujji warns against red meat. He has pointed out meat shops a couple of times and says they should be avoided. The waiter says the beef is imported but Gujji says that may or may not be correct even in a swish place such as this. Instead I opt for chicken, the first meat I have eated in 10 days. Perhaps it is a pity to return to meat eating.

The meals are very nice and the waiting at a standard which one would expect of such an establishment. We return to our apartment and the others return to Lakshmi's

Sunday 17^h December 2017, Chennai

The bathroom in our apartment does not have the best smell about it and the water seems to have an odour to it.Despite a good sleep, this morning I feel a little queezy and Ro has an upset alimentary canal, to put it politely. Maybe the bathroom is implicated. However, when we go to Lakshmi's it transpires that everyone except Rani has had some minir upset. It seems that the most expensive restaurant in Chennai may still suffer the same fate as lesser establishments which to date have not resulted in any stomach problems.

Lunch is a light affair after which we chat until 4 then return to Pebbles. We will vacate at 5 and take our bags back to Lakshmi's prior to our departure for the airport at 9.

The temperature outside is relatively cool so we take the opportunity to visit Ponny Bazzar to look at some more fabric shops. Sunday night is just as busy as earlier. Traffic is still chaotic; the sound of honking vehicles fills the air.

We visit numerous fabric shops, some air conditioned, some not. All have sales persons wall to wall with one or two only a pace behind. Ro is interested in cotton fabrics but most when asked show us the price. One guy must have got the message because whatever we look at is cotton. But nothing appeals.

Although it is cooler than before, it is still hot and soon Ro is wet from perspiration.

A shower before checkout is appealing so we return.

By 6.30 we are ready to checkout. We have already paid so it is just a matter of returning the keycard. We then walk to Lakshmi's with assorted bags in tow where we are offered dinner. We also learn that Kate has been to hospital as she had a fever and was feeling very off colour. The up side of the hospital visit was that she was very impressed with the efficiency and knowledge of the staff. The consultation plus some medicine cost around 15AUD!

As 5 of the 6 people who had dinner at the hotel last night have had some adverse reaction, we are fairly sure that the hotel was the source. Although she is much better, she is sleeping and by 9pm when we need to leave she is still asleep. We can leave by 10.30 as we have a 1.30am flight but Kate's is 12.15 so time is running short.

By 9.45, Kate has awoken and feels well enough to travel. An Uber taxi is ordered and we watch on Indu's phone as the car approaches us.

The drive to the airport is excitement free. Or maybe we are used to the driving. Our driver does not honk but does flash his lights a lot. The journey is about 35 minutes and the fare 353 rupee or 7AUD. I give him 400 and we exit with our bags from the boot.

The monitors tell us which counter to check in but it is still not clear where we need to go. As we work that out, Ro wonders with alarm where the brown bag with the passports is. We frantically check one another before realising it is still in the back of the taxi!! As it is on the floor, he is unlikely to see it.

What to do? I try to log on to some airport wifi to contact Indu who ordered the Uber taxi but to no avail. Ro suggests we ask for someone else,s phone to ring Lakshmi. There is a pharmacy opposite so we try there, explaining our predicament. The young guy is very helpful and rings. Via various calls back and forth, the Uber driver is contacted and asked to return to the airport. Fifteen minutes later we are relieved to have our bag back. We pay the driver 500 rupees which on top of the 400 is still only 18 AUD. India is an inexpensive place to make mistakes. I also offer the pharmacist 200 rupees but he will not accept. Instead he asks if there are many pharmacist jobs available in Australia. Unfortunately I cannot help on that score.

It is now 11pm so we still have plenty of lime to get to our 1.30am flight. Nevertheless, we stand in the longest customs queue we have experienced followed by the longest secirity scan queue.

Monday 18^h December 2017, Chennai

But all goes well and we are in plenty of time to board our flight to Bangkok, which runs behind time minimizing our wait for the next leg to Melbourne.

Around 6pm Melbourne time we are over Australia and by 9.10 we land at Tullamarine. My sister, Judy, has insisted she pick us up which we greatly appreciate.

All we have to do now is teach her how to sound the horn Indian style.

Europe 2017

marfee7 — Fri, 16 Jun 2017 18:56:00 GMT

Europe 2017

May 1^st 2017 Melbourne, Australia

Just like a pregnant woman starts 'nesting' near the birth of her baby (very poignant), each year I start to do major repairs to our house as our departure date gets closer. So it is that the simple facia replacement somehow transmogrifies into an external wall replacement.

May 21 2017, Melbourne, Australia

Job complete. What will I do for three weeks? Answer: our rental property, which flooded some years back forcing us to return to Australia, has become vacant (now why would that be?) and the ceiling needs painting to attract a new tenant. As the ceiling is 350 square meters, and there are some walls to paint, that should just about requite my nesting instinct, albeit with a touch more nervous energy expended with the approach of our departure date than I really need.

June 10^th 2017, Melbourne, Australia

The job is complete Saturday 9th. What will I do tomorrow prior to our departure Monday? I know! I will pack.

Monday June 12^th 2017 Melbourne, Australia

Judy, my sister, has very kindly offered to drive us to the airport. So 8am arrives and we are ready to start our adventure. We had forgotten that today is a public holiday so the roads are traffic free. That is until the airport where it is chockers for some 100 s of metres.

Judy has to go to a rose pruning class so drops us at the departure terminal with big hugs and kisses. We are most appreciative and the nice early time should mean queues are not too long. Wrong! The queue is as long as the car queue to enter the airport.

We were unable to do a net check in as we are using two different carriers, although we are actually Air France passengers rather than common Jetstar passengers. That is important to us as we inch our way in the queue. Perhaps we should wear something French next time just in case we are mistaken for Jetstar pasengers.

At the checkin point, we are asked whether there is anything flammable in our luggage. No we reply so the bags are weighed and we are about to leave when I have a horrible thought that the one litre of degreaser I have packed (as you do) might be flammable so I declare that there is degreaser which is non flammable. It seems to me that the degreaser which people often carry, in the form of Jonny Walker, is quite flammable but the check in guy says he would like to see it. So I dig deeply into my bag, remove the degreaser from the resealable bag, the double wrapped cling film and the bread bag to get the container. I find it somewhat embarrassing to open my bag at the checkin desk, as I have done before, exposing underwear, sex toys and all manner of other personal paraphernalia, but on this occasion, the guy at the next counter is trying to lose 1 kg from his bag so it is not so bad. Who knows which bag the sex toy came from.

The guy checks with counter espionage or whoever decides these things and, not surprisingly, they think it cannot travel. They'll regret it if they have a catastrophically dirty engine during the flight! Shame the guy next door was not carrying a litre of degreaser as it would have covered his 1 kg overweight. Still, thems the breaks.

We proceed to passport control where Ro spends an inordinate time proceeding through the automated system. Seems last year's Russian visa does not cut the mustard; they want to see her passport details. That is the problem with lack of reading glasses; the visa photo is the same as the passport photo but the Cyrilic text is the problem. Finally the system lets her through but the boarder control guy quizzes her for some minutes.

Everything else precedes nicely and a mere 25 hours later we are in Paris.

Tuesday 13 June 2017 Paris, France

Despite little sleep on the flights, we have enough energy for the 7 hour trip to our van. Only 3 hours of the 7 is actual travel time and the rest is waiting. But it passes soon enough and by 1.45 we are at the Beaurainville station. We should have been there by 1.39 but the train broke down 30 minutes from Beaurainville. It had been explained to us that the train driver had fixed the problem so we were only 20 minutes late. As we travelled, I had hoped that the driver's train fixing skills had not included bypassing the emergency brake system or something similar.

At Beaurainville, we usually have a 20 minute walk trailing our bags behind us but, to our surprise and delight, Steve is there to meet us. Steve and Jacki house our van during the winter.

Every two years we have to get a Control Technique certificate to prove the van is roadworthy. We have booked the van in for 4pm so we have plenty of time thanks to Steve. That is until the two flat batteries thwart our attempts to start the engine.

After an abortive attempt to top up the battery with a charger, I bite the bullet and with Steve's assistance with transport and translation, I procure a new battery for 85 euro. The starter battery is the same one we had when we bought the van 6 years ago so it has given us good service.

With the battery fitted, the engine bursts into life and we have 5 minutes to get to Dekra where we are booked in, which should be heaps of time. Unfortunately my memory of how to get there is faulty and 20 minutes later we eventually arrive at Dekra to find our appointment time was time critical and we have lost our booking. But they can fit us in again next week! With with little more than violent sobbing on our part, they agree to book us again for 12.30 tomorrow. We won't miss that one!

Beaurainville has quite a fast flowing river on which canoeing is popular. There is a spot where we can stay the night, hopefully without incurring anyone's displeasure.

Fortunately there is gas from last year so by 7 we have had a meal of vegetables purchased from the local Aldi and by 8 we have showered and are ready for our first good sleep in 48 hours. Sleep comes easily.

Wednesday 14 June 2017 Beaurainville, France

We wake fairly early having had 10 or 12 hours sleep. There is a lovely walk along the river and we watch some school children negotiating the rapids with varying degrees of success.

Leaving by 11 we make sure we are at Dekra early for our Control Technique. Near Dekra is a road leading up to a hill overlooking some of the town. This will do for morning tea. There are several unmade roads leading from an intersection. We pull off the tracks just in case a car should come by. A good move it turns out because five or six cars go by. Busy as Bourke St!

We deliver the van to Dekra by 12.15 and are told it will be complete by 1. Just time to walk to Carfours supermarket for a few provisions. However we have forgotten the French practice of closing for lunch, so we walk back without anything. By 1.15 we are on the road with our certificate.

Each year we have stayed at a campsite in Houplines, 1 ½ hours away near the Belgian border. It is only about 60 km away but the number of towns where we must slow to 50kph makes the trip slow. We arrive about 4pm after stopping for provisions at Lidl and lunch in their car park.

At the campsite, I borrow a ladder to help with replacement of the rear window which was broken last year by the parking attendants in Milan. I had sourced a secondhand one in England on the net as they are no longer made. It was delivered to Steve and Jackie in France in August last year.

Fitting it should be simple but rusted screws may make the job more difficult. After some work with the angle grinder it is fitted without too much effort.

Next job is the water pump which is not switching off when taps are closed. This proves to be more of a challenge and I disassemble and reassemble it numerous times before ultimately succeeding in getting it operational again.

Final job is to wash the van, some of which Ro has attended to while I was wasting time with the pump. In a year, the amount of dust accumulated is astounding. The amount of dirt which Houplines gains from Beaurainville in this washing effort is akin to the silting of the Nile delta, but I would imagine somewhat less furtile.

It does not get dark until 10pm here and I am still washing when it becomes too dark to see. Time to go to bed.

Thursday15 June 2017 Houplines, France

We are heading for Borken in Germany where we have stayed on three of four occasions in previous years. It is a 3 ½ hour trip and we want to arrive by 4. Leaving by 11 should achieve that without problem.

A bit more washing and a bit of waste emptying and water filling and we are away 10 minutes later than planned.

We have programmed Thomasina for the fastest route to Borken which will take us through Belgium, Netherlands and into Germany. Within minutes we are in Belgium.

As we travel we see a Shell service station and, having passed it, wonder if we should have stopped there to get LPG for our cooking, hot water and refrigerator. But there will be others. We should not have the problems this year as I have sourced from England the adaptor which has caused us problems in the past and had it sent to Jackie and Steve.

As we travel through Belgium, land of roads, roads and more roads, we marvel at how similar some scenes are. It is almost as though we have gone in a circle! Shades of our fiasco with Garmin in year one where the maps were not compatible with the GPS. On that occasion we passed the same point 3 times over six hours. But Thomasina would not do that to us.

After we have felt deja vu about five or six passing objects we decide that, yes, she would. We eventually buy LPG at the same Shell servo we had passed about 20 minutes ago. Naturally, because we have the new adaptor, we only require an adaptor we already had. There is no doubt that had we not got the new adaptor, that would have been the one we required. Well, since we are stopped, we might as well have morning tea.

As we leave we have more deja vu. We are tolerant of minor indiscretions but if we pass the Shell station again, Thomasina is in BIG TROUBLE. Need we remind her of what happened to Garmin? Here we go off the same exit again. We know it well. Turn right here and.......... Oh... not here but in 200 metres. Perhaps it was our mistake last circuit. Motorway exits can be a bit confusing here. Sorry Thomasina. Ro has occasionally commented on the number of times Thomasina is mentioned. Seems a bit like a threesome (dratt....and I thought I was being discreet). However it is almost certain that without TomTom, we would not do the travelling we do. With the sophistication and complexity of motorway interchanges today, using a road map would be overwhelmingly stressful.

We had emailed the camp at Borken we would arrive by 4. Although we had time to spare, we are now 20 or 30 minutes behind schedule. Still, we will make it by 4.

But of course we are not allowing for traffic around Antwerp. Last time we got stuck in traffic we blamed it on its being Friday afternoon but it seems Wednesday afternoon is no better. 40 or 50 minutes later we have exited the bumper to bumper traffic and are on our way again.

We reach Borken by 5 rather than 4 but no one seems bothered and we are warmly welcomed, a number of people here remembering us from previous visits. The last 20 minutes of driving has been a struggle with tiredness creeping on so our arrival is very much appreciated by me in particular.

After a quick dip in the pool (21 degrees this year rather than 19 on one previous visit), Ro cooks a lovely dinner of vegetables and salmon and we are in bed by 10.

Friday 16 June 2017 Borken, Germany

Finally a bit of R&R. Unfortunately the weather is cool (19 degrees) but it is dry and the sun occasionally shows its face.

There is WiFi available at the club house enabling us to catch up on emails and Whatsapp communications. We go for some walks and do a lot of reading and generally veging out. It is a bit too cool for swimming as the pool is only 20 degrees.

The day passes very lazily and we do so little that we can't get into any trouble.

Saturday 17 June 2017 Borken, Germany

Much the same today. More reading, wifi ing and lazing.

But we do venture into Borken which requires carefully negotiating a path around the man lifting machine which is doing some work on overhead cables at the exit to the camp site. Once in Borken, which is quite a large town, we visit our much loved Lidl then our equally loved Obi for some hardware and finally a take-it-or-leave-it service station for fuel. Perhaps take-it-or-leave-it is a bit harsh. We also pump up the bike tyres.

On returning, the man lifter is in the way so we have lunch while we wait for it to move. We always find the German people very helpful and so it is with the workmen, who let us know as soon as it is possible to return to our Stellplatz or camping place.

Saturday between 2 and 6 the sauna is operating so I take the opportunity to warm up as the day is rather cool. The sauna makes up for the cool. After 20 or 30 minutes I have a cold shower which makes me as warm as toast and allows for a swim in the now 20 degree pool.

The rest of the day is spent doing the odd repair and lazing about. Tomorrow we leave for Osnabruck, 1 ½ hours away to visit Felix, Kathrin and Ari. As luck would have it, tomorrow will be 28 and we will be travelling. But we might get some sun in the morning before we leave about 11.

Sunday 18 June 2017 Borken, Germany

We wake up to a cloudless sky. What a beautiful day to empty the toilet and waste water and fill the fresh water. Fortunately there is time to read in the sun for a while and for Ro to brave the icy water, after which she spends most of the morning trying to get warm. But she finds the swim invigorating and the shivering good exercise.

We are packed to leave by 10.30 with everything full or empty as required. The drive is a pleasant one on some back roads and some motorways. As always the motorway driving is a pleasure as well as a challenge. A number of the motorways are open speed limits so when I pass a vehicle in the outermost lane, as sometimes happens, I watch behind as someone approaches with a closing speed in excess of my passing speed. I minimize time out in the fast lane to avoid extracting Porsches from the exhaust pipe. A slight exaggeration I must admit. They don't fit in the exhaust pipe.

We leave Borken early to allow for the unexpected, but we don't anticipate that nothing unexpected will happen and, despite stopping along the way for lunch, we arrive at Osnabruck 30 minutes early. There is a park which turns out to be a sparsely populated cemetery. It is very picturesque when compared with your common or non-garden one so we spend a pleasant 30 minutes before travelling another 800 metre to Felix and Kathrin's home.

We spend an enjoyable couple of hours with them. Ari remembers us from previous visits but is far less shy than he was last year. We get an assurance that they will visit us in Australia in January or February, but they are a little vague on the year. As usual we have interesting conversation before we take our leave around 5pm.

We are heading toward Dresden and intend staying along the way at a camp about 1 ½ hours away. Exiting Osnabruck proves to be more difficult that expected. The entrance to the motorway is blocked so we continue hoping Thomasina (her again) will recalculate another route. But on this occasion she stubbornly wants us to do a U turn for some kilometers until our way is barred by roadworks (maybe she knew) at which point we have to do a U turn. As we approach the blocked entrance, it is clear she will lead us on there again so we advise her there is a road block in 500 metres. Now we are led on a merry chase across countryside then back to the road we were on, just in time to be instructed once more to use the blocked freeway entrance! We keep driving and eventually she finds another entrance to the motorway.

We arrive at our campsite about 6.30pm. It is out in the countryside and is lush green and very nice.

Tomorrow is expected to be 30 degrees so we will be in no hurry to leave.

Monday 19 June 2017 FlakenHolz, Germany

As promised the sky is cloudless and the sun warm. We have breakfast and go for a walk around the campsite. In typical German fashion, everything is neat and tidy. All the caravans are well kept and the infrastructure around them is immaculate. One has a pond which may also be a mosquito breeding ground; but very aesthetically pleasing.

The swimming pool is an above ground one but is large enough to allow laps....as long as they are circular. It is 23 degrees and refreshing given the warm day. As I swim in a circle, we joke that it is like a shark circling. A few minutes later a lady comments that her nephew (we think) is in Australia for 3 months and she shows us a picture which has 6 road signs depicting crocs, spiders, snakes, stingers etc for the next 4000 km. That is how many Europeans view Australia; as a land full of dangerous creatures. How brave we Australians all are.

Our plan is to leave by 2pm but that time comes and goes because the day is too lovely to abandon to travelling. Eventually we leave by 4pm with a view to driving 2 hours to a campsite near Goslar which we believe is worth seeing.

The non motorway way is 30 minutes longer so we opt for that as the scenery should be worth it. We need to shop on the way and we can select a Lidl which is en route. We have three items on our list to buy but we take a trolley just in case. Needless to say, we use the trolley and exit 20 minutes later with the trolley loaded with rather more than 3 items.

Our arrival time of 6pm gets eroded due to some road blocks, our shopping and the odd wrong turn. By the time we arrive at our campsite it is 7.15 and we cannot raise anyone to let us in. There is another campsite 10 km away so we head for that with the same result. However a track along the way looked like a good overnight spot and, having satisfied ourselves that a tractor will not arrive at 5am, we stop there for the night. It is still very warm but as night descends it cools down. The advantage of this overnight stop is that we will get going early tomorrow.

Tuesday 20 June 2017 Near Goslar, Germany

We are on the road by 9. See; I said we would get going early.

We set Tom Tom to the AltStadt and follow instructions until she says turn right and the sign says Goslar is to the left. Despite our proclaiming we could not travel without her help, we do not have sufficient faith to go in the opposite direction that the sign proclaims.

Following the sign we do end up at an Alt Stadt. We know it is genuine because we spend 5 minutes behind a garbage collection truck because the street is too narrow to allow vehicles to pass. However there does not appear to be anywhere to park and we are concerned that we do not have the required pollution sticker. Although, heaven knows we provide our fair share of carbon particulates.

We are fast coming to the conclusion that we like small tourist free places and Goslar does not fit this description. Next on our list is a town which does so we will skip Goslar and head straight for Quedlinburg which has an Alt Stadt with 1400 old houses.

When we reach Quedlinburg, we park in an area near which is a sign “Wohnmobile frei”. We expect not to have to pay. Unfortunately the sign means no Wohnmobiles beyond the sign.

Having parked but not knowing where the Alt Stadt is, we set off along the road by foot and are attracted by a cobblestoned road leading off to the left. There are some 16^th or 17^th century buildings so we photograph (we being Ro) a few then are attracted to a steep cobblestone path which leads to a church and assorted buildings high on a rocky outcrop. There are lovely gardens and magnificent views across rooftops to numerous spires. We are actually in the fort of the Altstadt and looking down on the houses. After walking around for while we descend the steep path and explore the village. The buildings are very evocative with very few concessions to modernity, despite the fact that everything is well maintained. I am struck by the wavyness of some of the main support beams. Looking along the building, windows are at different levels and angles yet the facade is not cracked. I wonder if the cracking has been fixed or if the original building followed the natural shape of the timber beams.

After an hour or two we are ready to continue toward Dresden. We select the fastest route and soon are travelling along motorways. Along the path, we are directed to enter another motorway however the entry is blocked. When we miss the turn we are then directed around a long loop back to the blocked entry. A car and caravan in front is obviously using a GPS because they follow the same route. However we both realise we are on a losing path at similar times, the difference being, he manages to change lanes to go up the motorway the wrong way and do a U turn a few km up whereas I have vehicles behind and cannot change. So we are doomed to complete the loop, miss the turn and be sent on the same go nowhere loop. It is a bit like giving an Irishman a piece of pater with PTO on both sides. Now before I am accused of political incorrectness, let me say I would never give an Irish woman such a card and expect her to be enthralled. So there.

As we complete our second loop and prepare to go the wrong way down the motorway, we spot the other car who is now on the correct side of the motorway but 10 minutes ahead of us.

Our trials on motorways are not over yet. These motorways have open speed limits in Germany and we sometimes wonder what happens when someone makes a mistake when overtaking as approach speeds can be close to 100kph. Today we have the answer: an almighty traffic jamdue to an accident. Although we don't see the cause, the effect is kilometers of motionless traffic followed by kilometers of bumper to bumper traffic exiting the motorway and kilometers of bumper to bumper traffic which has exited the motorway. Worse than the jam in Belgium. Maybe peak hour in Melbourne is not so bad after all.

Finally we arrive at our camp site near Dresden around 5.30pm. On the gate, it says the gate is locked at 1800 hours so it is fortunate we were not stuck in traffic for longer. There is quite a language problem. No one speaks any English and my German is not quite up to the mark. The lady passes me a phone but the guy on the other end only speaks German and over the phone my skills are even lower. The problem is that this gate is for campers with tents whereas the wohnmobile entrance is on the other side of the lake. Although in hindsight I understood the directions, at the time I was not confident. The answer is to follow a little red car down the narrow picturesque road to Tur 2 (door 2).

We are placed next to a German couple who are very friendly but have very little english. We manage to converse at some minimalist level.

The checkin guy is very friendly and effusively explains to us how we can ride to a tram stop about 7km away. Perhaps tomorrow we will venture out on our bikes.

Tonight we will enjoy the campsite which follows the banks of half the moderately large lake and is well treed and green and leafy. It is our sort of place.

Around 11 we go to bed. The noise of the birdlife is almost deafening. But suddenly it stops. Must be lights out. Five minutes later it has returned. Something must have spooked them into silence. Shame we don't know what.

Wednesday 21 June 2017 Volkersdorf, Germany

After breakfast we set out on our bikes after a bit of wifi which is available about 200 metres from our campsite.

Ro suffers from heat and the bike ride may prove to be other than pleasant for her. Added to this is we don't know where we are going. The guy last night who effusively directed us to the tram was other than clear. He also directed a Dutch guy who speaks fluent German to a Lidl and he did not understand so we were somewhat behind the eight ball. As it happens I am able to direct him with TomTom to the Lidl.

I had decided that taking a train to Dresden would do us and TomTom said there was a Bahnhof in Barnsdorf, a village nearby. Arriving by bike at Barnsdorf, we ask a local lady who speaks very good English and she informs us that they have a little train but it does not go to Dresden. But the ride to Dresden, she says, takes her 20 minutes by bike. Maybe we will try that. However, by the time we retrace our path and start off toward Dresden, the heat is getting to Ro so we decide to return to our campsite, cool down and venture out in the van instead.

We will try to follow the checkin guy's sketchy directions. As we drive, Thomasina seem to know where we need to go. Ain't this technology something. When she says we have reached our destination, there is the tram! It turns out that the Lidl we had helped the Dutch guy find is opposite the tram terminus. Sometimes good luck trumps incompetence.

By now it is too late to get the tram so we decide to use this as reconnaissance and we will go to Dresden tomorrow.

Back at the camp we have a late lunch and check tomorrow's forecast. It will be 32 degrees! So we might stay here by the lake and do Dresden Friday when it will be 25 (but thundery). One of the great advantages of the van is we can do what we want when we want without upsetting anyone.

The rest of the afternoon allows us to read, get some sun, fix a blind and generally relax. This is a very enjoyable way to live life.

Thursday 22 June 2017 Volkersdorf, Germany

The morning is sunny and warm. We walk 350 meters to a beach on the lake complete with sand, a floating jetty and a small water slide. The slide is not up to our usual standard, water slide experts that we have become. Nearby, there is a large grassed area with a hedge where we can enjoy the sun between swims.

The water in the lake is passable (perhaps mostly by the many ducks, geese and swans) but not wonderful. As Ro comments: Eildon it ain't.

By 1pm we are ready to walk back for lunch. After lunch, while I do the odd chore, Ro does some washing, which some may also classify as a chore. We hang sheets and clothing on a makeshift clothes line then go to check any emails.

There are thunderstorms predicted for tomorrow and there does seem to be change in the air. As we are leaving early tomorrow, we need to find someone to pay for our three nights. We enquire at the kiosk to whom we should pay some money. Well I think that is what I asked. One way or another a guy turns up and we locate the invoice which had been filled out a day or two ago. We owe 54 euro or 18 euro per night. As they don't have card facilities we need to pay with cash. Although I have not checked for a few days, I believe we have plenty of cash. However I am wrong. We actially have 55 euro in notes plus a few coins!

I have received an email regarding leasing of our property in Melbourne and an answer is required quickly. Just as I am sending the reply, there is a fierce windstorm which blows all sorts of leaves and debris from the many trees. It also causes the electricity to fail and wifi to go down. The one time I really need it and it fails.

The wind storm passes and calm returns, albeit considerably cooler than before. Hopefullhy power will be restored before we go to bed.

Friday 23 June 2017 Volkersdorf, Germany

It rains quite heavily all night but we remain dry except for two or three drops on Ro from the overhead vent. The van occasionally rocks due to loud claps of thunder and we can hear branches of various sizes breaking. We hope one does not fall on us.

The alarm goes off at 5am, although I was awake anyway. My plan had been to try to send my email if power had been restored during the night. However about 4am I had checked lights in the toilet block and there was no power then. Furthermore, there was not water in the basin then so I assumed the camp was run from a pump also denied power. That was going to create a problem because we had intended filling our water before we left. All that goes to say that the alarm was not required. Plan B was to wake at 6am, fill and dump then seek out a tourist office hoping their free wifi was on during the night. So the alarm is reset for 6 and we try to go back to sleep. This we achieve about 10 to 6.

Plan B is sleepily put into action. The dumping can still take place and does but, while the dump station water is out, it transpires that the drinking water is still working so we can fill our 100 litre tank which will last us for 3 days wild camping if necessary.

By 6.20 we are off to Moritzburg where there is a tourist information office. We travel to Moritzburg along a very narrow road and think that the town will be tiny with the information office long since closed. In the town, which does not seem so tiny, we are lead to a church rather than a tourist office so we think “that's it” and prepare to implement Plan C:find a McDonald's. But a helpful workman directs us up the road to where a magnificent castle on a large lake overlooks the information office. Moritzburg is far from tiny, no doubt historically due to the huge castle. It is only 7.30 so needless to say the castle is closed and the information office is closed and there is no wifi anyway. So although we would have liked to hang around to visit the castle, we instead head for McDonald's 14 km away.

On arrival, we can get wifi and quickly send the email while sipping a 1 euro coffee.

Unfortunately it is now 4pm in Australia so the information is a bit late. Ho Hum.

We leave McDonalds after some breakfast, albeit not McDonald's, and get some cash and diesel then return to the Lidl opposite the tram terminus.

Trams come every 10 minutes and one is waiting and ready to leave. On board the ticket vending machine only takes coins and we have insufficient. A local suggests we can buy our day tickets when we get off in the city. Whether or not a ticket inspector would have the same laissez faire attitude is a moot point as, thankfully, we don't encounter one.

But vending machines and we don't see eye to eye. The city vending machine takes notes but does not like our 50 euro note. A young German girl who speaks English with an American accent wants to buy a ticket but she too must work out the machine. It dispenses her a ticket because it likes her 10 euro note and eventually Ro spots a notice which says it will only accept 50 euro notes for purchases in excess of 35 euro. Our tickets are only 8.50 euro. A local music shop changes our 50 and the machine now accepts the smaller notes. Change is delivered as coins so when we buy a ticket with a 20 euro note, it sounds like we have won at the pokies. The raucous “I win I win I win” music is absent, but the thrill of the noise inspires us to buy another ticket. 25 tickets later, we are directed to the nearest Gambling Anonymous chapter.

First on our list is the Frauenkirche to which our friendly local Music store assistant directs us after our win on the vending machine. It is 500 metres away so we can use our all day tickets to go by tram.

And what wonderful trams they are! They are clean, modern, frequent and speedie. They, where possible, have their own grassed laneways and often their lanes are wider than those of the cars. The whole system encourages public rather than private transport which is how it should be.

Alighting the tram we spot the dome and head toward it. Dresden is well known for the destruction it suffered during bombing near the end of the second world war. It was arguably more damaged than was St Petersburg. The rebuilding is remarkable. Later we will see the alter in the church which was rebuilt with 2000 pieces. The church itself was reconstructed after it collapsed following the bombing.

Although the church is open, other sights attract us and we walk toward the Elbe river along a raised prominade which abutts the State Gallery.

We return to the church via a courtyard of the ResidenzSchloss where royalty lived and past a wall with a huge frieze 150 metre long depicting soldiers on horseback. It seems ironic that the military scenes which the frieze depicts was, 200 years later, the reason for its destruction.

On returning to the church, there is now a priest at the door and it seems that the church is now closed as a service is starting. It will not open again until Sunday. However we are welcome to attend the service. We opt for that, hoping that the new roof is sufficiently strong to resist us near athiests attending a religious service.

Perhaps the roof stays in tact because it is all in German and we don't understand it. We gaze on the stupendous alter and marvel at its reconstruction. We hear three pieces on the organ that Bach christened. Although we are not organ fans, one cannot help but be impressed by the sound generated in that space.

It is lunch time when we leave and we inspect the menus of various pavement cafes if that is not too belittling a term. Ultimately we opt for a German sausage eaten overlooking the Elbe from the prominade.

Locating the Tourist Information Office, we inspect a map which directs us to the Zwinger, a decadent palace built for frivolity by Augustus the Strong to rival Louis XIV's Versailles. One becomes a bit palaced out but this courtyard still impresses. Augustus would be pleased.

We have read that the carillon of Meissen bells choruses every 15 minutes. We have missed 1.30 so we wait for 1.45. That is somewhat underwhelming so we think the chime on the hour must be better. It is, but still nothing to write home about (despite my writing home about it). Walking outside the palace, we find a path which leads to the rooftop prominade and follow that. We are just in time to hear the end of the 2.15 chorus which is the one to write home about!

As we have a day pass on the tram it seems prudent to ride out into the suburbs some way. We end up taking trams north south east and west to give us a feel of the city, which is a very pleasant one.

The final ride returns us to our van. By now we are tired after an early start and it makes sence to return to last night's camp site. When we arrive, although the gate is locked, we can stay outside overlooking the lake. That will do us.

Saturday 24 June 2017 Volkersdorf, Germany

When we wildcamp we usually get going earlier. Rather than stay by the gate, periodically being interrupted by cars stopping to open then close the gate, we move to the end of the lake for breakfast, still overlooking the lake. Here we are still interrupted by infrequent passing cars but they do not stop.

By 8.30 we are ready to hit the road. We are heading for Saxon Switzerland which is about 1 hour away. It is a rocky region, its name inspired by two Swiss artists who were reminded of home due to the steepness and the houses which are reminiscent of those we have seen in Switzerland.

Along the way we want to call in to an Aldi as they had some very nice orange tea which Lidl does not have. By 9.15 we have travelled toward the outskirts of Dresden and have passed an Aldi along the way into which we go. Ten minutes later we exit having bought the tea and a few other things. But as we exit, there is a pamphlet advertising an Aldi phone sim plan for 8 euro including EU roaming. It includes 2 GB of data which we can use over 4 weeks. That sounds just the ticket. Load the SIM into my phone and we have EU wide internet. Sounds great. Back to the shop where I check with an assistant that I can use it in any EU country and I do not need a Geran address. Yes to both, assuming her English is up to the task.

The pack actually costs 12 euro including the SIM and a 10 euro starter. Back in the car, I realise my phone is locked to Optus in Australia and I can't easily get an unlock code over here. I had an unlocked handset in Australia which I intended bringing but forgot. Back to Aldi who say they have a USB stick for 39 euro but suggest I could get a handset for 10 euro and give me an address..... back in Dresden. Well it won't take long. Meanwhile I have tried another USB modem I have here from 2011 but it won't load because it is missing files which are available on the net, which I can't access without the dongle. So often technology ties itself in circles for the traveller. So before going to Dresden we will call into Maccas for their wifi to load the files so we have our own access.

Thomasina leads us to a Maccas which is in the middle of a throng of people attanding some festival. Ok try the one we went to a few days ago. We arrive there and the files are found but won't load. So, on to the handset suppliers. They have a handset for 60 euro or a dongle for 34 euro. I opt for the dongle. So far, in two hours I have saved myself 5 euro, excluding the fuel cost and the ice cream at Maccas.

Back to the car and try the dongle. It doesn't work. The SIM needs to be activated...using either the net or a phone. Stymied again. Back to the shop. Although he did not supply the SIM, the shop attendant is willing to activate it for me. What is my address here in Germany? I understood I did not need a German address. Yes I do. Can we use this address? No, not allowed to. Maybe Felix's address.....but I have a mental blank on what that is. Back to the van to get the address. By the time I reach it, I have remembered Felix's address. Back to the shop. What plan do I want? Because it is a dongle, it better be a data only plan. 750 MB for 7 euro. Not the 2 GB I had hoped for but by now a plan which returned the old programmer's message “Hello World” would do me. Now it should work. No says the guy. It takes up to 6 hours for the network to connect it.

In previous years, getting gas in some countries was an absolute nightmare. This year, because we have the correct adaptor, which we have not needed yet, getting gas is simple. But now we have spent a similar amount of time trying to get internet access.

It is with a great deal of relief that we finally leave Dresden for Rathen in the Saxon Switzerland area. It has taken 4 hours to try to get internet access with no certain result as yet.

Along the way we stop for lunch in a lovely German forrest before reaching Ruthen. The area around Ruthen is rather underwhelming but very popular with tourists and rock climbers one of whom we see clinging to a vertical wall. We walk up a path to one of the massive sandstone boulders before returning to the van. Continuing on we descend a steep hill before entering the town. It soon becomes apparent that we are too big to comfortably continue so we retrace our path up the steep road. It is not as bad as the Italian Alps but it is a long haul in first gear none the less.

Tomorrow we want to head for Karlovy Vary in the Czech Republic so we will head toward there this afternoon. There is a camp site near Teplice which is one hour away.

As we near the border, the German villages still look neat but not so much money is available for infrastructure. As we cross the border, the difference is marked. The roads are in poor condition and there are numerous deep seemingly abandoned holes at the side of the road. Shops overflow with goods with huge numbers of assorted wares displayed outside. We know we are in another country.

When we arrive at where the camp should be, a two wheel track leads off the road and we decide to try elsewhere. It is around 6pm.

There is another one by a lake so we travel there and find the camp without too much trouble. It looks a bit run down but will do for tonight. Perhaps because it is the weekend, there are scores of people, many swimming in the lake as it is very warm.

As darkness descends squeals from the many children continue until well after 10pm. It is obviously a popular family holiday spot.

Sunday 25 June 2017 Teplice Czech Republic

The morning is sunny and we brave the lake for a dip before breakfast. Actually the water is not too cold and the water quality is very good probably as the lake gets deep quite quickly.

Today we want to head for Karlovy Vary about 90 km away. The trip is through lush green countryside and villages of varying tidyness. Some are lovely, others somewhat run down.

We stop at a few spots where there should be network coverage but, despite seeing networks, the message is “No Service”.

At Karlovy Vary, we find a spot to park but it is marked Reserved and we suspect not for us. A pay park is next door but we have no local currency so cannot buy a ticket.

Driving further we have no more success so we abandon our attempt and instead head for a nearby Maccas for some wifi and buy some Mac Muck in order to get some local currency change. Then we go out to the van for have a proper lunch in the car park.

As we return to the park, we spot a sign indicating a motorhome camping area. Entering the small yard, we see 5 motorhomes parked. The site is actually a resident's back yard from which he earns some pocket money. There is a sign offering wifi for 3 days for 2 euro. Although far from auspicious, this will do for the night. There is a man who speaks no English and a teenage boy who does. We explain to the boy that we will return by 6. He says we should be here before 7.30 because that is when his Grandfather locks up.

Returning to the pay car park, I am trying to determine what I need to pay when an ageing Security person offers to help.....in German. After some linguistic to ing and fro ing we reach the unfortunate fact that I have insufficient coins to purchase the 2 hour ticket I want. Instead I buy a 1 hour ticket. However the Security man asks how long I wanted to stay. 2 hours I say. He instead relieves me of the remainder of my change and says I can stay 2 hours. I place our ticket expiring at 4.45 behind the windscreen secure in the knowledge that our Security man has been bribed to not book us before 5.45. Assuming, that is, that the Security man has some positive relationship with the man responsible for writing parking tickets.

First impressions of Karlovy Vary are not great. The buildings are attractive but may not have been worth the long drive to get here.

We walk toward some greenery and come across a walled waterway. There are aluminium towers built in the canal advertising the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, of which we were not previously aware.

Walking along the canal we come to a covered walkway probably from the 1800s in which water is issuing forth from a brass serpent or something similar. This is a spa town so this must be spa water. We try some along with numerous others who mill around and fill containers ranging from bottle caps (us) to 600 mm drink bottles (Japanese tourists). The fizzy sulpherous taste is quite pleasant but the strong ferrous aftertaste is not.The bottle cap full is more than enough for me.

The covered walkway is the best thing we have seen so far. However, as we round the next corner, the area becomes a pedestrian presinct flanked either side by restored Baroque and Art Nouveau buildings all in beautiful condition. The paving is beautifully laid and the canal walls are topped with elegant railings.

Rapidly, a mediocre streetscape has transformed into probably the best we have ever seen!

We walk for two or more kilometers enjoying the wonderful architecture. There are dozens of hotels all attempting to outdo one another in beauty, ornamentation or vastness. This town must have been a real tourist drawcard in its hayday and possibly during the communist era. Today it is not overrun with tourists which is nice for us but makes one wonder where the hotels get their custom.

We use most of our 2 hours walking around and enjoying the area, arriving back at our van by 5.35, hoping not to see a ticket. Bribery and corruption seem to have won the day as there is none.

The motorhome camp is only 5 minutes away and the Grandfather is there but no boy. Communication has to be in Czech or German. Although it is a toss up which will be more effective, I opt for German. The result is similar to what I would have expected had I opted for Czech. Finally we determine what to do with gray and black waste water then I mention the wifi. There seems to be a problem here although what it is I can't determine. An English couple say they have been using wifi without problem but the Gradfather explains something about how much wifi costs him. He seems to think that sending emails to Australia or America costs him a lot whereas sending them to EU countries does not. He suggests maybe we should move to another camping area where they have wifi.

The upshot is that we travel another 5 km to a park which is far superior, has wifi, good toilet facilities and is much quieter. We are happy and settle in for the evening.

Monday 26 June 2017 Karlovy Vary Czech Republic

Despite the night being very quite, sleep is lacking due to an expectation of receipt of time sensitive emails from Australia. Because we are 8 hours behind, Australia's business day starts at 1 am here and finishes about 9am. The expected emails do arrive and need answering.

We are ready to leave by 9 but we need to dump and fill. In the process we are spoken to by a French man in French who has seen our number plate. However his English is excellent and we have quite a discussion, including getting the GPS coordinates of a Prague camp site which we will head toward.

With a few stops along the way, a turn back due to an impassible road and our expressed wish not to use motorways, we are travelling until around 3 when we stop for a break only a few kilometers from the chosen campsite. This campsite ia about 25 km from Prague city centre and we recall we had information about one which is just across the river from the city. We decide to alter course after a little walk.

When Thomasina informs us we have arrived at out destination, it is after driving some 500 metres along a narrow path on the river bank next to a very challenging kayak course. It does not look like we should be here but there is the odd other car travelling toward us so we assume it is OK. However two enquiries of locals gets us no closer to the rather inconspicuous camp site. Having gone another few hundred meters along the bank, we backtrack and ask at another kiosk. As I walk there, I see some tents and a motorhome so it seems a good omen. The guy in the kiosk says to go and enquire upstairs in another building and ,bingo, we are in.

It is all very relaxed but the sanitary facilities are good and we have wifi. We find that the younger people mostly seem to speak English generally at a good level which makes things easier.

After a 'narce coop a tea' we read and relax before I go for a recci on my bike. Riding along the river for ¾ km or so, I can cross a bridge where there is a subway, bus stop and tram stop or alternatively we can ride further toward the Centrum, although we don't know how far that is.

I report back to Ro who has cooked a meal of vegetables and German sausage, She suggests we go riding after dinner.

It stays light here until well after 10 pm so we leave here at 8 in bright sunshine, although the wind is rather cooler than earlier, which is good.

Riding back over the river we follow the sign to Centrum. Along the way we see a very imposing building unfortunately in other than good repair. It is an exhibition building with a tower in which is a massive clock. An exposed spiral staircase leads up to the tower. Traversing it would be a good experience but it does not look like there is public access. We continue, asking locals along the way for directions.

The Vltava River on which we are camped sweeps in a U through Prague and we start to cross the river again when we notice that it is getting darker. We had better return while it is light as we don't have our lights fitted.

We are back by 10.15, having checked the ticketing system on our return trip. For 4 euro we can get a day ticket for tram, bus and train. Negotiating the transport system will be tomorrow's adventure.

Tuesday 27 June 2017 Prague Czech Republic

We are on our bikes by 9.15 to ride over the bridge to the tube station. The day is sunny now but rain is predicted.

It takes about 10 or 12 minutes to get to the station where we can buy a day ticket. The problem is, again, the ticket machine accepts coins and we have none.

We ask at a shop or two but English is in short supply. The answer, we think, is to get some Korunas from the cash machine and get a shop to change them into coins. We get a 500 Koruna note from the machine, worth about 33 Australian dollars. Our two day tickets will be about 12 AUD and will cover train tram and bus.

There is what looks to be a newsagent, with a queue of 10 or so people, so we will try there. When it is out turn we are fortunate that the lady speaks English although she is unfamiliar with the concept of smiling. We explain that we need some coins and could she change the note. She asks if it is for train tickets and, if so, she sells the tickets. And she has card facilities. Never the less we use our 500 Koruna note and receive a 200 Koruna note and come coins. May be handy later.

We lock up our bikes at the station and walk 50 metre to the tram station. The first tram is a Number 17 so we board, validate our tickets and wait to see where we end up.

The tram follows the same route we did last night but rather than crossing the bridge we did, continues one bridge further and crosses the river there.

Prague trams are plentiful, ubiquitous and fast. Their routes twist and curve through narrow streets which the trams negotiate at breakneck speeds. Having crossed the river, we continue until I spy what seems likely to be Karluv most or Charles Bridge which, we are informed by travel guides,is the start point of any Prague exploration.

By now we have missed the stop so we exit next stop which is not much further on and walk back. The tourist guide said to get to the bridge before 10 or it will be very crowded. We don't and it is. The bridge was built in the 14^th century and has escaped damage in conflicts over the ages. It has 30 statues of saints added from 1683 to 1928. Some of the saints need a wash.

On the far side of the bridge we are in the alt stadt. However, in places like Prague, there is old and older and even older still.

We spend a very enjoyable few hours walking around the city with breaks here and there on trams taking us no where in particular but giving us a good feel for the city.

During our wanderings we have a lovely coffee and apple strudel ( I should remember to avoid espressos. I always forget they are so tiny but strong) and later a delicious Czech meal of pork, cabbage and dumplings. We are lucky with the weather as the predicted rain only materialises a slight drizzle here and there.

After a bit more riding on the trams, we are ready to return. We get to our bikes a bit after 6 and ride back. The kayaks are working the waves and provide us with entertainment watching. The river is dammed at a number of points to aid navigation of large craft and during this kayaking course the river drops probably 2 metres across the two levels of the dam. The water passes around various obstacles which makes hydraulic jumps of up to 1 metre. It looks like great fun.

Wednesday 28 June 2017 Prague Czech Republic

Our day ticket runs out about 9.45 so we manage to stumble out of bed early, have some fruit then cycle to the tram by 7.40. We will ride the trams beyound the inner city to get a better feel for Prague, which we certainly like.

We are familiar with the Number 17 tram. It is reliable and trustworthy and close at hand. One arrives at 7.44, its scheduled time and within 10 minutes is at Charles Bridge. Given that it is early, we will see what a tourist free tourist attraction is like.

It is only us, three Japanese brides in wedding dresses and Nikis (and photographers) and a handful of maybe locals/maybe tourists. A far cry from yesterday.

Ro is having a break from the camera, but, instead, uses the phone. She is addicted to shutters, albeit electronic ones.

Returning to the tram, we continue on the Number 17. Once clear of the inner city, the tram performs more like a train. The small radius roller coaster like curves are replaced by long cambered curves along which the tram speeds. This is the way public transport should work. As we speed by cars, intersections miraculously opening before us and overpasses where that is not possible, it is obvious that the way to move around Prague is by public transport not private car.

At some arbitrary station we leave the tram to return on the inbound line. The next tram is a Number 21 and only has one car. Other trams we have taken have at least 2 cars and up to 5 as long caterpillar like vehicles. Sitting at the rear of a caterpiller which is fully walk through, unlike the older cars, one can watch as the caterpliier twists and bucks alomg its path.

Having boarded the Number 21, it seems likely that it will branch off the track we have come along so we think it judicious to alight at the next stop and wait for a Number 17. The next tram is a number 17 with two cars, which we prefer to the caterpillar. Within 15 minutes or so we are at the exhibition building. However, instead of snaking to the right it veers to the left. Our trusty number 17 seems to have gone off the rails, so to speak. Fortunately it is a terminus so we can walk 50 metres and get a well behaved number 17 which takes us to our bikes on which we ride back to the campsite. After a late breakfast, we are on the road by 10.45.

We have been vascillating over whether to continue east or to head south toward Austria. Ultimately we decided that since we are so far east we should continue on to Poland and, in a late change of plan, down to Budapest in Hungary.

Today's destination is Olomouc, 200 odd km east of Prague. We want to take back roads so it is scheduled to tale 4 hours. We have found that rarely is that accurate as we stop, shop and rest along the way. So it is with this trip.

We pass through villages of various sizes, including one which feels like a small village but which goes on for kilometer after kilometer.

I am getting tired and it is now around 4 oclock so we look at our campsite book and see there is one close to our current route.

By 5 we are close to it but it turns out to be in the middle of a roadworks controlled by lights. After negotiating rough and ever smaller streets, we eventually come to a dead end and have to retrace. A local offers help but in Czech and we are not confident we understand.

We program TomTom using clues from the camp site map and end up afetr 15 minutes at a run down building by a lake which may once have been magnificent. There is a boy who speaks a tiny bit of English but he calls on another man who speaks English fluently. His accent sounds familiar and I ask if he is Australian. Well Kiwi actually but has spent more time in Australia. We have quite a chat and I get the impression that a familiar accent is music to his ears.

The upshot is that the camp is not accessible by motorhome so we will need to wild camp. Along the way we have seen some wooded areas which seem suitable so we return to one, find a reasonably level spot and stop for the night.

Thursday 29 June 2017 Kretin (that's right) Czech Republic

We have a quite night before breakfasting and taking to the road. The day starts badly when I exit our parking spot and turn onto the wrong side of the road! I find in Europe and for some time afterward in Australia that exiting parking areas it is a major challenge to work out what side of the road to drive. Unfortunately, this road has a blind curve and for a few meters we are on the wrong side!! But it is our lucky day, and a lucky day for all the other drivers who could have been using the road at that time. We may only have been on the wrong side for some seconds, but the possible consequences means it is some kilometers before I am relaxed again. However, it is important to visit that horrible thought frequently to ensure it does not happen ever again.

As is our preference, we have chosen back roads so we see the countryside and rural villages. Here, more than elsewhere, this comes at a price regarding comfort. Many of the roads are patches on patches and driving on them is like a choppy day on the bay in our boat. Yesterday as we searched for our camp site, we drove on a new local road and considered what the old road must have been like for them to replace it!

We arrive at Olomouc and are surprised how big it is. We did not have a population for it in our notes but were expecting something reasonably small. On the up side, there is a big Lidl and plenty of McDonalds' for some internet connection.

The tram system looks to be as extensive as Prague's and we debate whether we want to go sightseeing in a large city after spending our time in Prague. Ultimately we decide to go on to Krakow in Poland. That is sure to be a little Village!!

We have observed before that once a week we like to settle in to a campsite and veg out for a day. We have located a motorhome camp in Krakow and intend to do that before sight seeing.

Although it is only 250 km from Olomouc to Krakow, going on back roads makes it a long trip. Eventually, with 150 km to go we opt for the motorway which is tolled.

Crossing into Poland we see a service station and stop to enquire about Vignettes or whatever. I ask a lady if she speaks English. Her response does not sound like English but after a few words she says “Speak to me” in Polenglish. I am not complaining about her English as we are the visitors but the communication between us is decidedly lacking. I suspect that they sold Vignettes for various neighbouring countries and she told me I did not need one for Poland. So how do I pay? “Pay at the gate” was her response and all I needed to know.

The driving on the motorway is much easier and eventually we get to the toll booth where we pay 10 Zlotys or about 3.50 Australian. Later we pay another 10 before we exit at Krakow.

We have the camp site entered as GPS coordinates and usually this is pretty accorate. Not so this time. On a web site we were given coordinates in both decimal degrees and degrees minutes and seconds. We used the latter at our cost. When we find nothing resembling a camp site, assuming we cannot camp on the bridge to which we have been directed, we enter the decimal coordinates and the location is 7.5 km away in the direction we had just come and through very heavy traffic.

Eventually we arrive at what looks like a very presentable camp site. We check in with a welcoming, English speaking Pole, are directed to a shady spot and are very happy to relax.

Friday 30 June 2017 Krakow Poland

It is a beautiful day. We will probably spend the day relaxing under the plentiful shade, but first a bit of washing and a repair or two.

After 45 minutes, we check the washing machine and think maybe it was a good decision to stay two nights. At this rate, by tomorrow the load should be finished, assuming that there is anything more than threads to retrieve from the machine. New front load technology seems to have reverted to the old two large rocks technique.

After 1 ½ hours we go to see how our washing is progressing. A Dutch couple is watching their machine also and there is some discussion as to what is actually happening and how we will know when it is finished. They actually started their load before us but ours finally finishes before them.

Having hung out our threads to dry, we realise we should have washed some other things. Returning to the laundry, the Dutch couple have finished their load by using our machine to spin dry. Their original machine is the only one vacant so we use that for our next load. One and one half hours later we return to sodden clothes and realise we will have to spin elsewhere. That takes another 20 minutes. With this for entertainment, who needs TV?

After lunch we go for a walk to find where the bus station is located for our adventures tomorrow. There is a lovely park surrounded by not so lovely appartment blocks and abandoned buildings.

With reading, washing and making a holder for the frypan, the day passes quickly. Our R&R day is over. Back to work tomorrow.

Saturday 1 July 2017 Krakow Poland

Our plan is to leave early by bus to Krakow old town, but first we want to wash the front curtains in the van. That, as we know, involves 1 ½ hours or so.

The load starts before 7.15 and we have breakfast and fill and dump tanks while the machine dismembers the curtains. By 8.30 the load is finished and we are ready to go.

We can leave the van here for the day so a makeshift clothes line is strung from the van to a tent peg before we walk the 200 metres to the bus stop.

Last night we checked the existence of the ticket machine and that we could use our Travel Card. We get both our day tickets for 30 Zlotys, about 10 AUD, and wait for the bus, checking with a local that we are heading in the right direction. We find all young people speak English at a reasonable level. This young girl, when asked if she speakes English, replies “Of course”.

We validate our tickets on the bus and look for clues as to where we should get off. These come in the form of long video screens which have the next 10 or 12 stops shown and a graphic of a ball which sits between indentations during travel and which drops into the indentation at the stop. Were it not for our unfamiliarity with the Polish language, these would be great. Given that unfamiliarity, we spend quite some time comparing the stop names with whatever we have on our notes. After some time on the system, our recognition of the names improves and we feel more comfortable.

At the required stop, we alight and start to orientate ourselves, or to be more precise, orientate the map with the visible landmarks shown.

It is quite a wide intersection where we get off and there is a pedestrian crossing in one direction but not in the other. Of concern is the fact that there are lights for the pedestrian but neither walk nor don't walk is lit. Knowing whether a vehicle will stop or not is difficult. Added to this is a cartoon we see later on a tram which warns about how trams do not stop easily. We see a cartoon figure look the wrong way and step in front of a tram. The tram slams on its brakes, the passengers get thrown about and the final scene is a pair of feet sticking out from under the tram. It gets the message across. Whether or not it is as effective as our rhinoceros on a skateboard sign on trams in Melbourne is a moot point.

There is a bridge crossing the rather wide Wisla river and the solution is to walk under it where we get a good view of a very large Royal castle. There are huge crowds and it looks like a lot of walking required, so we head for the city square which has been highly recommended to us.

The acclaim is well placed. It is very large with a large town hall tower and below that a Cloth Hall which has a central arcade with souvenier stalls either side. The stalls are typical tourist junk, albeit with some quality jewellery, but the timberwork is impressive and the arcade well restored.

We begin with a Starbuck's coffee, drunk outside overlooking the square. Instead of falling for the espresso trick, I choose a long black which turns out to be a double sized espresso; two tablespoons of coffee instead of one. Fortunately I can have 3 litres of hot water added and it becomes acceptable strength. Admittedly a plastic bucket of coffee is not a good look but I can cope. Ro has a decaf latte and we share a cinnamon bun.

Around the square there are beautifully presented white carriages driven by girls in nicely tailored trouser suits. The horses have ornate tack with braided sashes draped over their backs. They also have retreds on their normal metal shoes. We wonder if they are for the comfort of the horses or the quietness of the walk. And do they get to take them off after work as they lounge back and rest their tired feet? There must be 10 or 15 carriages waiting in a queue like taxis.

As we walk, one of the pavement waiters talks to us. He is studying tourism and is very friendly and outgoing. We suggest he visit Australia and he says it is on his to-do list. He gives us good information about the salt mine we are thinking of visiting.

As we move away from the square, we come across a tram line and, as elsewhere, we use this to get a feel for the city. Travelling up one line and back we return to the square about lunch time. We want to avoid the square as Ro comments the prices are usually squared also.

As we pass one restaurant, we look at the menu and a guy says to us that the restaurant is very good with traditional food, traditional dress and traditional decor. I assume he is a spruiker and ask if his recommendation is totally unbiassed, somewhat tounge in cheek. He replies that he works in the square but it is here that has lunch. It sounds genuine and he shows us inside then leaves as a waiter, whom he may know, escorts us inside.

We sit outside but rain is spitting so we move inside. The decor does indeed look traditional and the waitresses are traditionally dressed, apart perhaps from the sneakers, which the girl readily admits are not traditional.

We have a traditional Lemko meal of “buckwheat groats with meat and mushroom wrapped in sauerkraut cabbage leaves” which is delicious followed by potato pancakes with apple and honey. Lemko meals reflect the poor state of the soil in these regions in the ingrediants used, but they manage to make them very tasty.

After lunch we ride a bit further on the trams before deciding to take a Number 304 bus to the Wieliezka salt mine, 15 km from the centrum.

By the time we arrive it is 5pm and we are prepared for the mine to be closed. However, to our surprise, it is open for some hours yet. The last 2 hour guided tour starts at 7pm.

We look around the site and ask if there are any brochures indicating what we will see for our 30 AUD tickets. There are brochures available. We can get them once we buy our tickets.

Having been tripping around for 5 or 6 hours, we are not sure we want another 2 more now. But we do see some photos on a construction wall which suggest it would be well worth our while. Perhaps we will go back to our camp site now, stay another night and do the salt mine tomorrow. We can use our 24 hour ticket to get there and buy some singles to get back. Leaving the van at the camp site tomorrow is quite a bit easier than finding parking and we like the camp. Also, we have been blooded on the transport system so that holds no mystery now.

Sunday 2 July 2017 Krakow Poland

We are at the bus stop by 8.10 waiting for the 164 bus. One is due at 8.15 so not long to wait. However by 8.25 we assume we must wait until 8.45 for the next bus. At 8.25 a 169 approaches but we have not been given that number as one we can use. As it comes to a stop, I look at the timetable on the shelter and see that the 169 stops at Jubilat, the stop we want. The doors are just closing as we press the open door button in the hope we will get on. Happily the doors reopen and we climb aboard.

The route the bus takes is different from the 164 and when it turns in the opposite direction we are a little concerned. But the graphics shows our stop and it duely arrives. We alight to find our next bus to the salt mine immediately behind.

We arrive at the Wieliczka Salt Mine 5 minutes before the next English guided tour begins. Hurriedly buying our tickets we find the queue and wait for probably 15 minutes. It seems starting times are not precise.

Inside the building we receive audio receivers connected to the guide's microphone/transmitter. She speaks English with quite a Polish accent and at a sticcato rate. We will descend 64 meters to the first level down 350 steps consisting of 50 flights of 7 steps each. We can look down the 200 mm gap between one flight's handrail and the next and all we see is what looks like long narrow picture frames dropping to infinity. By the time we reach the bottom we are quite dizzy. It surprises us that there is no indication at the ticket box that visitors should be fit enough to descend the 350 steps. Still, we did not have to clamber over exhausted unfit visitors on the descent so presumably the system works.

Yesterday we wondered what there was to see in a salt mine and was it worth the 30 AUD ticket. We need not have had any doubts. The mine is fascinating. Mining first commenced there 700 years ago. Rock salt forms in huge blocks as close to the surface as 6 meters. This mins has 9 levels going to 320 meters depth. The salt is hard and looks quite gray but holding a torch to it, one can see it is translucent.

The salt can be sculpted into quite detailed forms and there are many sculptures to be seen. Where salt has been removed, the chambers created can be huge. Some are 30 meters high and others up to 50 metres long by 18 meters wide. The 50 x 18 chamber has ornate biblical carvings and huge salt chandeliers. There is a mezzanine floor with salt steps leading down to the carved floor. The whole chamber is inclosed in one salt block. Throughout the mine, the amount of timber used to shore up certain areas is staggering. Additionally, there are a few underground brine lakes as water is constantly trickling into the mine.

As well as the sculptures and extraordinary chambers, there is working equipment going back to the middle ages. The air in the salt mine is very pure and timber is protected by salt. Metal, of course, corrodes rapidly but since 2000 the air is humidity controlled to prevent erosion of scutptures and corrosion of metal. Salt is highly hygroscopic but without water, it is non corrosive. Timber support posts which have been there hundreds of years have absorbed salt and are hard as concrete.

There are huge windlasses which were powered by teams of horses which lived in the mine for up to five years at a time. Although this sounds cruel, their condition was better than those on the surface, The windlasses are fitted with 80mm diameter ropes and would lift 2 ½ tons of salt up the mine in a load. However, the system raised one side as it lowered the other so materials to be lowered balanced the 2 ½ tonnes so the differencce was only a few hundred kilograms. Another interesting machine was an early lift pump consisting of chain with timber slugs every 400mm. The slugs are a close fit in a pipe so each formed a chamber with the following in which 4 or 5 litres would be lifted.

The tour lasts three hours!! And all is fascinating. At the end of the guided tour, we can go through a museum 130 meters below the surface. This involves walking a further 1 kilometer, a mere fraction of the 300 kilometers of tunnels and galleries in the mine. Over 1,000,000 tourists visit the mine annually. It has been UNESCO herritage listed since 1978 and has been a tourist attraction since 1996. Today the only salt removed is extracted from brine pumped from the mine; about 15000 tonnes per year. There are other operating salt mines in Poland and elsewhere in Europe and about 80% is used for mitigating ice on roads. Salt used for consumption is steadily decreasing due to negative health implications.

Our final experience is being whisked up a shaft at 4 metres per second in a miner's elevator which has 4 dog boxes stacked one on the other taking around 6 people each.

The experience has been unexpectedly wonderful and remarkable value.

To return to the van we have to take the 304 back to Jubilat then a 164 to Clepardia. The problem is our day tickets have run out and we have no Polish coins. I had confirmed that the machines on board took credit cards but the 304 which we run for and just get does not take cards. Yesterday our day tickets were checked by an inspector. We will buy a ticket at Jubilat and hope one does not get on the 304.

At Jubilat, our 164 bus arrives immediately and we have no time to get tickets. On board the machine takes cards but I cannot operate it. A friendly girl helps but she can't get it to work either. She asks the bus driver and tries further but still it won't read my card. We will have to explain to any inspector our predicament. Perhaps because it is Sunday, no inspector boards so we alight at Clepardia without having purchased tickets. Not what we wanted to do.

We leave the camp by around 2 with a 2 ½ hour trip ahead to Zdiar in Slovakia. As we near the Slovakian boarder, the architecture changes noticeably and as we climb the Tatra mountains, the scenery becomes reminiscent of Switzerland and obviously an area prone to heavy snow.

By 6, following a few stops, we arrive at Zdiar, just inside Slovakia, a ski villiage, although ski lifts are some kilometers before the extensive village. It would be wonderful here in the snow season.

We stop for the night in a parking area and go for some walks, hearing Slovakian music and looking at the magnificent scenery and evocative chalets. To our surprise we hear a group of Australian students who are probably here for the summer hiking. We want to say “hello” but the opportunity does not present itself.

We will have a quite but probably cool night here and we age glad we came. It has been a very special day.

Monday 3 July 2017 Zdiar Slovakia

The night is indeed chilly. Packing thermals proves to have been a good idea. Overnight there is some rain but the morning dawns mostly clear and sunny.

After breakfast we go for a walk along one of the numerous tracks which follows a lovely mountain stream. At the start is a three storey ruin of what probably was once a splendid hotel. It is boarded up but would look wonderful if renovated.

There is abundant flora, enabling Ro to salve her passion for photographing flowers of various kinds and hues. Along the way we meet two girls who it turns out come from South Australia. We ask them if they know where the track goes and hope they are not following us expecting that we know. They say they do know where it goes but after half a kilometer it transpires that we are on the wrong track. This area is well known for its walking tracks during summer and its skiing during winter. Returning to the van around 11, we set off for Budapest, some 5 hours away.

The roads we drive on are non motorways and are in as poor or poorer repair than those in the Czech Republic. As we drive through small villages, we note the poor state of repair of the houses. Outside the ski resort, there does not appear to be a lot of wealth but the scenery is spectacular, especially as we leave the mountains.

By 3pm we cross the boarder into Hungry. There is an immediate improvement in roads and there is an air of, if not exactly wealth, certainly a lack of poverty.

By 6.30 we arrive at out Budapest camp. It is very crowded, has an elevated freight line next to it and is on the flight path of the airport. Tonight may be less peaceful than last night. And we are packed in like sardines. We have an address for another camp on the other side of Budapest. Maybe tomorrow we will try that.

Tuesday 4 July 2017 Budapest Hungary

The trains and planes continue all night, albeit intermittently. When morning dawns, we are committed to trying the other site. Looking on the net, it looks OK and offers an included breakfast. A comment says the staff are very friendly, which admittedly they were last night here. There seem to be a sufficient number of English speakers in Hungary for language not to be a problem. We have often thought we are fortunate to speak English as it is reasonably universal.

The new camp is 15 kilometers away in a leafy part of Buda. Budapest is actually two cities separated by the Danube, locally called the Duna. Pest is where we were last night and quite flat. Buda is across the river and quite hilly.

Thomasina predicts it will take 35 minutes but 45 minutes after leaving we are still crawling across the city outskirts. Finally we cross the Danube and things speed up a bit until the next jam across an intersection, not helped by cars queuing across the intersection when they have nowhere to go. Thoughtless drivers exist here too, although on the whole the drivers are accommodating when a wrong lane is chosen.

This side of the river is much nicer than what we have seen on the other side. We can but hope that there is space for us given we have no booking. We reach the new campsite about 11 but not before a wrong turn sees us crawling up a second gear slope for 2 kilometers until we can turn.

Returning, we find the camp, which, from the look of the entrance, is fairly minimalist. There is plenty of greenery and it should be quiet.

We are greeted by a Hungarian woman who speaks English well and lives up to the comment for friendliness. She shows us to a site and says that heavy bookings start in a week or so but there is no problem now. It proves to be far less commercial than last night's camp and we will be happy here for a few days.

As we look through the literature, it becomes apparent that we will need a few days here, including a visit to Budapest's famous thermal spas.

After a relaxing afternoon, around 4 we go for a walk to check out the bus station. We like to meter our our excitement in manageable amounts. It is during this walk that we discover the camping ground we had planned to stay in. The comments on the net did not refer to where we are but where we were supposed to be. But they were accurate for where we are none the less.

Opposite the bus station is a chairlift which can take us to the highest point in Budapest. It is a steep ascent about two or three kilometers long. We purchase tickets and board the chairlift. It is rather different from chairlifts we are used to as the path crosses private gardens and passes only meters from private terraces.

At the top, we read that the chairlift closes at 7pm and it is now 6.15. The very highest point has a stone tower with spiral steps to the top. It is another 300 meters up a steep stairway but we will have time if we keep moving.

The view from the tower is wonderful and emphasises the difference between hilly Buda and flat Pest. Another difference is that Buda is a sea of trees whereas Pest from here looks largely devoid of greenery.

We get to the bottom of the lift by 7 and walk back toward our camp. The other camp has an eating area so we go in there and have Hungarian stew and dumplings followed by pancakes which should have been for one but ends up being for two.

We walk back to our van about 9. The other camp has better facilities but ours has nicer pitches. Now we have the best of both.

Tomorrow we will get a 72 hr transport pass and start our exploration of Budapest.

Wednesday 5 July 2017 Budapest Hungary

Our night is as quiet as last night was noisy. After a leisurely breakfast and a bit of internet business we leave the camp, speaking to a New Zealand couple who are driving a French registered car. We say that we presume they are the French New Zealanders and we are the French Australians and chat for five minutes before continuing. We finally get on a bus around 10.45. We have 23 stops to the city but that takes less than half an hour.

Alighting on the Buda side of Margit Hid (where we think hid means bridge), we descend stairs rather than cross the busy traffic in lanes either side of the tram tracks as the bus utilizes the tram tracks and tram platform.

We have to ascend stairs on the other side of the traffic lanes to walk over the bridge to where a pedestrial bridge takes us onto Margit Island, a three kilometer by 300 metre island in the Danube which is predominantly a pedestrian precinct.

Two hundred metres onto the island is a fountain which dances to music. We are fortunate to arrive at it as a Hungarian dance by Brahms is starting. Walking further we are delighted with the gardens and impressed by a swimming pool and water slide park (mmmmmm.... water slide park) which is huge, as are the five water slides (mmmmmm..water slides). As it is quite hot, the pool is crowded. Walking further we come across some ruins and some non ruins which have a strong Turkish influence. The Turkish influence is evident throughout both cities as the Turks ruled here for 150 years before being evicted then for a further period some time later. Precision in historical events never was a strong point of mine.

There is a Spa Hotel where we stop for, presumably, some healthy coffee and ice cream. We know it is a health spa because people walk around in white bath robes trying to look healthy. Some are outside smoking in their white robes. Chances are they will fail the course.

We have almost reached the end of the island mainly because we were looking for a Japanese Garden with signs which lured us rather further than we had wanted to walk. When we arrived at our current camp site, the owner had given us (sold actually) two bus tickets which allowed us to get to the Centrum to buy either a Budapest card or a Transport card. We walked on the island while we decided which to get. Problem is, we are now at the end of the 3 Km island without a ticket or any cash to buy one. Looks like a 3 km walk back.

As we start back we come across the Japanese garden we were looking for. And it is worth the walk to get here and probably the walk to get back. It is beautifully maintained as are the extensive gardens on the whole island. There are ponds with fish and turtles and lilys and reeds and waterfalls. Very enjoyable.

The day is getting hotter as we walk past the crowded pool and water slides(mmmmmm........waterslides) toward Margit Bridge, which is very wide. Back at the Buda side we buy two 72 hour transport tickets for about 22 AUD each.

Boarding a tram we cross to the Pest side. There is a public transport boat jetty 200 metres away from the tram stop and that is where we head, intending to spend an hour or two riding the boats as we find this is a pleasant way to see the river bank architecture and the layout of the city.

At the jetty, we discuss the timetables with a Brisbane couple and come to the conclusion that it does not really matter where the next boat goes because we don't care what we see.

The next two hours are spent on the boat. We like the boat because the views are long views and we get a chance to look at sights before they flash past as happens on bus, tram or train. The Danube current is strong and all jetties are approached from down stream. As we leave it is a guessing game as to whether we will turn and proceed further downstream or exit the jetty and proceed upstream. Finally the ferry does not turn after leaving the jetty and we retrace our jetties until we reach the Parliament building where we alight.

The Parliament buildings are superb. Built in 1904, they were made especially large to celebrate Hungary's 1000 year history. And they are very large. In fact the third largest Pariament in the world. The fact that they were modelled on the London houses of parliament is evident.

It is too late for any tours or to look through the museum so we continue through the basement section to a tram stop where we board a tram to who knows where. Not quite true because we know it goes along the Danube in a southerly direction on the Pest bank. As it happens we only travel a few stops before alighting to walk along a prominade.

We have not eaten much all day as we left late and had a late morning coffee. There is a pavement cafe and we stop to peruse the menu. Quick as a wink we are ushered inside and it seems we are eating here. But we have no complaints. We have a view across the Danube looking up to the castle on the Buda side. No complaints at all.

After a beautiful dinner we board the tram back to Margit Bridge, take another tram across it and wait for the 291 bus. Were it not for a helpful resident we would have been waiting a long time. While the inbound bus uses the tram lines, the outbound bus does not. We are directed to the stop one hundred meters down the road where a bus arrives quite quickly.

It has been a day of walking. The final 450 metres from the bus stop to the van is just about enough for us. We should sleep well tonight.

Thursday 6 July 2017 Budapest Hungary

We don't. Maybe we are still on Melbourne time because we are awake between 2 and 4, replying to Wattsapps and emails. Because it is a hot night, we have left both side windows open. Unfortunately this allows the noises from the young and noisy to infiltrate our serenity around 2.30. How thoughtless they are. Later, we are discussing that thoughtlessness and commenting to one another about our communications with Australia when our neighbour passes by our window at around 4 am and asks us to be quiet as his family are trying to sleep. Oops! Open windows are a two way thing.

Due to lack of sleep during the night, we sleep in this morning and are not to our bus until 11. Funny... same time as yesterday when we slept better. It must be a Budapest thing.

The literature says you cannot visit Budapest without visiting a thermal spa. There are 15 in the city area alone and the thermal waters are certified; whatever that may mean. There is a park which looks worth visiting and that has one of the best known spas there.

We take our 291 bus from home to the terminus and we can get a metro from there to the spa. After standing in front of the rail map, rotating our map several times and a bit of head scratching we can see what we have to do and descend the long steep elevator to the metro platform. We did not pay enough attention to the direction we want which is indicated by an arrow toward the terminus. This is largely because all the station names are naturally in Hungarian and we have trouble pronouncing them let alone remembering them. Having missed one train, another arrives in minutes and we are away. We count the number of stations, recognising the odd letter along the way to determine we are on the right track, so to speak.

We have to change lines to reach our spa and this goes relatively smoothly. We find that sorting out a public transport system inevitably involves some confusion if not panic and then, rapidly, a sense of how the system works and how to read the maps develops and we are happy.

The spa is remarkably crowded. Our 25 AUD entrance fee each provides us with access for the day plus an electronically controlled locker each. We have a waterproof wrist band to open and lock the locker.

Changein rooms are small cubicles with a door either end. The cubicle is about 1.8 metres by 900 wide. Once inside, to sit down, the edge of the seat is flapped down and this locks both doors. After changing, we exit into the locker room where we can leave our valuables in the two lockers included in our entrance fee.

But first we want a drink and something to eat. Walking through a foot bath, we enter the first bathing room. There are two pools which we assume are quite hot then two more at different temperatures. There are Roman columns surrounding the pools and it all looks rather exotic. There is quite a loud babble of voices which echo on the stone walls and tiling.

Exiting this room, we go outside to where there are 3 large bathing pools, indistinguishable from swimming pools, again at varying temperatures and with various features. The surrounding buildings are ornate and reflect their 1800s heritage.

Rather than coffee, we opt for lunch, which is rather ordinary and memorable for the wrong reasons. Half an hour later we go to take the waters. First is the spa room where we try the two baths but ignore the very hot baths.

Today's temperature is in the high 20s so hot thermal baths have limited appeal. Before long we retreat to outside where the baths are cooler but the sun is hotter. Quite a fine balancing act. The first pool has strong jets of water which can give one a neck massage. I would imagine that waterboarding had its origins in these neck massaging streams of water. Angle is critical and benefit arguable.

Next we go to another bath which has a central circular pool with strong jets which swirl the water in a circular flow. The outside high speed flow is fun but bumping into those who think it is fun to resist the jets is not.

Overall, so far our spa experience is not unlike a day at the local swimming pool which I remember from my teenage years. I suspect the 'must do' label may have been hype.

In trying the hot baths inside we get a slight surprise. One is cold. But the other is around 40 and after 10 minutes we get into the 20 degree pool. The result is a remarkable warmth after the first initial shock.

Somewhat underwhelmed, we leave around 4 and return by metro to Margit Hid, our well known point of reference.

Taking a tram along the Buda bank, we look for somewhere to refresh ourselves. There is a lovely little chocolate cafe where we have two iced coffees, beautifully presented by a very helpful girl. We pay the princely sum of 5 AUD because the cafe is off the tourist trail.

We have been looking for a cogged tramway and though we see references to it, no one seems to know where it is. Our friendly girl discusses it with her manager and gives us directions which we expect will be to the funicular railway servicing the Buda castle. Not what we want, but we follow the instructions in case they are correct, which they aren't.

Still, we do find a number 16 mini bus which will take us up to the castle presinct.

What a find! It is around 7 and there are many people about but it is cooler now and, no doubt, less crowded than earlier in the day. An area called Fishermen's Bastian provides wonderful sights across to Pest and is a wonderful sight itself. Matthias built in the 13^th century is a beautiful church in beautiful condition often touted as one of the most beautiful in the world. Mind you, those that said that may also have said the spas were unmissable.

There is a bar which has a limited menu but with tables overlooking the wonderful view toward Pest. There is a noisy bunch so we wait until they leave before sitting down. The meal is OK but the view is exceptional.

After walking further round the area, we walk down some 100s of steps to the river bank and take a tram back to our trusty 291 bus and from there back to the van.

Budapest is rapidly becoming our favourite city, But I may have said that before,

Friday 7 July 2017 Budapest Hungary

Our 291 bus takes us back to the Pest side of Margit Hid where we take a boat south . We want to explore the Budapest Natural History Museum gardens and the walks which lead to it.

Before ascending the hill, ther is an information centre where I can ask about the cogged tram. The lady is very helpful but she obviously does not know about it either. The Cogged Tram may be Budapest's best kept secret, even from the locals. She is not able to help and explains that her internet is down. She gives us some clues but we leave not fully informed. We have walked some 20 or 30 metres when she runs out after us waving a met map and shows us where it is. She has obviously not been trained in the French school of tourism. We thank her and note that the tram is only a short distance from where we are camped! It was the forerunner to the chairlift we went on a day or two ago.

There are steps, and ramps and escalators and even a lift to negotiate to get up to the Museum gardens. The buildings were once royal residences and have undergone many changes since first being built in the 13^th century. These include repairs to damage during the Budapest siege in WWII. Once at the top, there are more wonderful views but the heat is rather oppressive. There is a spot we have iced coffee and cheesecake under an umbrella and cooling fan while we take in the view across the river.

We opt to descend via some more 100s of steps to the river where we cross Chain Bridge, the first bridge to join Buda and Pest in the 1840s. On the Pest side is St Stephens, the biggest catholic church in Budapest with a capacity of over 8000. It was built in 1851 and is incredibly ornate and lavishly decorated. Superlatives become rather boring after a while however anything short of superlatives do not do these buildings justice.

There is a market which we want to see. However the maps, being in Hungarian, are not clear about what or where. We are directed to a building one kilometrre away but it is not the one. It is worth seeing but hot, especially on the mezzanine floor where the toilets are located. Ro is in need of one but 100 Forents (1 AUD) is required. We ask a local storeholder if she can change Euro as we need to use the toilet. She rummages in her purse and produced one 100 Forent coin for Ro and 2 50 Forent coins for me. I offer her a 1 Euro coin (300 Forents) but she waves it away. I leave it for her anyway. We find the Hungarian people friendly and outgoing. Budapest is a lovely city with lovely people.

There is another building which may be what we are looking for, which we can reach by taking a south bound tram along the Pest riverbank. The building consists of two 1800s buildings separated by 20 or 30 metres above which a space frame roof covers the void and extends into a modern building beyond the originals. The building and roof system was opened in 2013 and looks like a good idea which has not found favour with the public. There are a lot of vacant shop spaces and few people are shopping in the occupied ones. It is not the market we were looking for.

Ready to give up on that idea, we exit the building. Walking toward a bridge we want to cross, we see before us what is obviously the market we want to see. It was built in 1896 and restored 1994 and is claimed as Europe's most beautiful market. We don't have too much trouble believing that.

The stalls are plentiful and very well stocked. The floors are all tiled in 1800s tiles. The canopy is lacey iron work of that period with a towering ceiling and a mezzanine level.

After circumnavigating the lower floor we take an escalator to the mezzanine. There is a restaurant which is period and very evocative. The food is very good value and tasty. It is now around 4.30 so this will be dinner.

After a half hour or so, we circumnavigate the mezzanine which is full of souveneir stalls and others selling local woven fabric and costumes. Walking along the narrow aisles between the goods involves negotiation with other browsers. We are very glad we finally found this building.

Time for a rest on a boat. Walking to the nearby jetty, we catch a boat not knowing whether we will head up stream or down stream. Down stream it is, but only for a stop or two to the terminus where we expect to start back upstream.

We have to wait at the jetty while another Met boat drops passengers then departs. As we dock, an announcement says we must leave the boat as it is going out of service. Why this boat did not dock first is a mystery as we watch the previous boat make its way upstream.

Fortunately there is a tram stop adjacent to the jetty. It turns out to be a train platform and a train arrives almost immediately. We board but discover the next stop is its terminus. However by now we have overtaken the boat and, as there is a jetty near the platform we can board the boat we just missed. Maybe these Budapestians solve problems in a lateral way.

The boat plys its way in a leisurely fashion upstream past Margit Hid and past Margit Island to its terminus 3 or 4 kilometers past the island. Unfortunately we did not learnf our lesson as this boat is also going out of service.

Some other tourists are also caught out but can tell us in English that they have been told there is a met station 5 or 10 minutes walk away. The walk is not entirely welcome as we are getting foot sore but, short of sleeping on the boat, that is what we must do.

The met line passes through the station where we left our 291 bus yesterday so it is not long before we are heading back to our camp. The final 3 or 4 or 500 metres (difference of opinion) is enough walking for us and we arrive about 8 then have a quiet evening reading and writing.

Our 72 hour ticket runs out about 3 tomorrow then we will probably move on, having had an unexpectedly pleasant surprise with Budapest.

Saturday 8 July 2017 Budapest Hungary

Today will be quite hot so we want to get going early; which means 10.15 for us it seems. Our challenge is to find the Cog Railway or Tramway or whatever the hell it is called. But it does have cogs.

Last night we discovered that our number 291 bus passes quite close to the terminus of the cog rail. Today, after alighting where a tram will take us to the terminus, we discover that due to the FINA championships in Budapest this year, the tram service on this line has been suspended. Fortunately there are clues in English, without which we may have waited until the end of July when the service resumes.

There is a bus stop so we take the next bus, the 129, which does not go where we expect. Looking at the Met plan, we can find no 129 and 129 is a pallandrome (if numerical pallendromes exist) of 291. This is Burmuda Trianle stuff. But through good luck or other supernatural means, it ends up at a point where we can reach the cog rail, which, fortunately, is running, FINA notwithstanding.

The twin car is waiting at the platform and gradually it fills with passengers. It does not have air conditioning and the windows have pictograms which suggest the powers that be don't want them opened. Never the less, other passengers have opened theirs but ours refuse to open. Meanwhile Ro is wilting. Shades of Berlin where we were locked in a train which was out of service in a siding. At least this hot box is moving.

The gradient is steep and we stop at perhaps 7 stations. As most of the line is single with dual rail passing points, we have to stop on two or three occasions until the downward tram is opposite us.

The terminus is somewhere near the chairlift but it is too hot to go walking. Instead we take the next tram back down. The upward trip was relatively smooth but not so the downward. The tram car rattles and grinds until it reaches the bottom.

We have succeeded in finding and riding the elusive cog rail. After the bumping and grinding, perhaps we now know why not many people know where it is.

From the terminus we take a bus to a metro station where we cross the river some dozens of metres below it. Ro is keen to visit the cafe attached to a chocolate museum and as we exit the metro station, there it is.

We have iced coffee with loads of cream and a fruit flan for a very reasonable 11 AUD. The surroundings are pleasant but more importantly, air conditioned. However, the iced coffee we have had in previous days with ice cream is far superior to these with cream.

The “Green Bridge”, our description not theirs, is close by and the boat jetty is opposite that. Despite the blazing sun, we walk over the bridge and wait five minutes for a northbound boat. Unfortunately, when we show our ticket, the attendant says it is not valid on boats. We think this is wrong but later,checking the conditions, discover that boats are covered weekdays but not weekends!! Budapest tourism is well organised but there are a few bits of information missing. We still don't know if we rode the cog rail illegally.

We have come to understand the river side tram lines quite well, We know any tram will take us to Margit Hid where out 291 bus stops. Except that the tram we take goes back across the green bridge. Another unintended adventure. Along the way Ro spies a Metro entrance and we get off the tram close by.

The Met takes us to our 291 terminus and we get back to the camp with about 1 ½ hours to spare on our travel cards. We will head for Austria this afternoon.

After dumping and filling we say our goodbyes to Marta, the camp owner, and her son Gabor who have been very friendly and helpful. If we ever get back here in our motorhome, we will definitely stay here.

We have set our sights on a campsite 3 ½ hours away somewhat more southerly than we are now but still in Hungary. With about one hour to go it is getting a bit late so we find a roadside stop instead.

We will see what tomorrow brings.

Sunday 9 July 2017 46.98829N by 17.71576E Hungary (for all the use that is)

We have a quiet but warm night then debate whether we will continue on to the Hungarian camp or head for Salzburg.

Tossing a figurative coin, which unfortunately got lost under the driver's seat, we continue on toward yesterday's destination. It is about 1 hour away and we would like to have a one or two day holiday from sightseeing.

Although Thomasina could not find the number we had for the street, when we arrive, a sign points us in the right direction and soon we are ensconced under a shady tree. The proprieter is a Hungarian lady one year older than me, she volunteers, and very friendly.

The day will be 32 and it is already quite warm. The swimming pool is very inviting at a pleasant 26 degrees. This will provide a nice base for R&R after our time in Budapest and before Salzburg.

Monday 10 July 2017, Nemesbuk, Hungary.

The day is going to be hot. 34 is predicted. Where we are parked there is a cabin and we are really “on their turf”. I explain to them that I feel we should move as we are taking up their shade. They are a German couple and say that it is Ok. Nevertheless, we move to another plot a short distance away where the shade may be better in the afternoon.

In explaining our move, so we don't appear antisocial, I strike up a conversation with Kamelia, who is Bulgarian and is on her way to see her identical twin sister with her parntner Uwe.

During the day we chat quite a lot and find we have common interests. After dinner we are invited to drinks with two other couples, a German couple and a Dutch couple. Unfortunately we feel at a disadvantage as they all speak German and we don't. They are all inclusive but we feel uncomfortable requiring them to speak in English when they naturally would prefer to converse in German. As it happens, the Dutch man, who would seem to be the least comfortable with English, is the one with whom we speak most. However, that may partially be the seat placement around the table. I feel that with more exposure to German my skills would rapidly improve as I can get the gist of many of the conversations.

Overnight it is very warm. Our fridge has been struggling. I can see a cleanout of the jet is in order. Maybe tomorrow, once our R&R break has finished.

Tuesday 11 July 2017 , Nemesbuk, Hungary.

It is not so hot today so good for travelling. We get on the road by 9.45 with a 3 or 4 hour drive ahead of us. Distances in Europe seem to take much longer to cover than in Australia. Admittedly here we use back roads to see the countryside whereas in Australia we use freeways. When we use freeways here, distances are covered much faster.

The extra time is well worth while. The counrtyside in Hungary is lovely and the roads are not too bad. Despite this, once in Austria, the difference in maintenance levels on both private and public buildings is very apparent.

The camp site we are staying at near Gratz is one at which we stayed in 2011. The gate is opened by Jurgen who loaned us his car when we stayed in 2011. He remembers us, or more likely, our motorhome.

We remember where things are and park in a similar place to last time. The afternoon is warm and sunny whch gives us a chance to get some sun and read. Later it cools down quite a bit and overnight there is a constant drizzle of rain. No problem as long as we don't get bogged tomorrow.

Wednesday 12 July 2017 Graz, Austria

Despite the overnight rain, we don't have any problems leaving the camp site and we are on the road by 10.

It is a four hour drive to Hallstatt which is about one hour from Salzburg. Hallstatt is a small town which clings to a rocky face on the edge of a large lake, the name of which we have not been able to determine.

The drive is spectacular, through towering wooded mountains and up and over some. A lot of second gear work both ascending and descending. There are beautiful villages dotted around with three storey A frame houses on which masses of colourful flowers bloom in balcony baskets. There is greenery galore with exposed rock on the peaks.

As we pass through a small town, an emergency vehicle passes. Perhaps 10 km further on, having ascended steep narrow roads to which we have become accustomed, we pass the emergency vehicle. A car has driven off the road and plunged perhaps 10 or 15 meters down the mountain before being arrested by trees. We hope the driver is OK.

Finally at the top, we ascend a 24% grade in second gear, using brakes from time to time to prevent the high reving engine throwing a con rod. If we have to return on this road, we may have problems, particularly if we have to stop and restart.

We reach a campsite 3 km from Hallstatt at 6.30. Entering the reception area, we wait for 5 minutes before a man we assume is a guest identifies himself as the reception person. After more waiting, he shows us a site which leaves something to be desired but will do.

Back at reception, he tells us the price is 42 euros. This does not seem to equate with the price list in German which suggests the price should be 32 euros. But we don't question it and leave a passport as security. However, we don't especially like the camp and don't like the owner/manager so decide we will move on. Returning to reception to retrieve my passport, the guy complains that if you book a hotel room you can't then say you don't want it. I point out that we have only been there 10 minutes and have not even entered our allocated site. He says it was the last place and he has turned away another motorhome. I say I saw him escort another motorhome after us to a site, He says it was after that. Reluctantly he returns my passport and we leave, thankful that we are not staying. We think we were being ripped off and we don't like that.

It is now about 7.30. Continuing toward Hallstatt, we see a number of motorhomes set up for the night in a parking area. The sign says 'Camping Verboten', so , although we think motorhome parking may not be camping, we move on.

Driving in to Hallstatt we find another camp but reception is closed. So instead we park in a bus zone while Ro takes a few photos. We will move on.

There is a 200 or 300 metre tunnel which bores through the rock on which Hallstatt is perched. As we pass through, there is a parking area within the tunnel which overlooks the town. With some toing and froing through the forward and return tunnels we manage to park, with me somewhat apprehensive about getting stuck in the tunnel.

Steps wind down to the village where we walk around for 20 minutes before rain forces us to return to the van. That is enough to give us a feel of the place. We quickly get the impression that the place is set up for tourists.....by the hoard. Perhaps now was the best time to see it.

Continuing through the tunnel we drive for 4 or 5 kilometers and find a spot for overnighting. There are no 'Camping Verboten' signs so hopefully we will be OK.

The night is reasonably quiet except for relatively infrequent cars. Rain starts around 10pm and continues throughout the night.

Thursday 13 July 2017 near Hallstatt, Austria

The traffic gets quite heavy from 6.30 onward. By 8.30, we have counted 8 or 10 busses. Our analysis last night that the town would be crawling with tourists during the day is most probably correct.

By 930 we are on the road to Salzburg, about 1 ½ hours away. Fortunately, the road out is not steep like the road in so we have no problems. There is more stunning scenery but without the long slow hauls up steep roads.

We have left the lake on which Hallstatt sits but this area has many others. As we pass another large lake, on a whim, Ro suggests we take a road closer to the lake so we can have coffee overlooking it.

The road terminates in a car park with a lane leading to a jetty. Looking across the lake we can see a beautiful town, identified as St Wolfgang on the Woflgangsee. There is a boat which will take us across to St Wolfgang in about 40 minutes.

We have coffee and toast while waiting then board the boat. On board Ro gets a pamphlet which mentions the Schafburg Bahn, a cog rail which takes passengers 1200 meters up the Schaftburg. We can buy tickets for both on the boat.

We are booked on to the 11.10 train which has one engine and two carriages. After a wait of 30 minutes, we board the packet train.

It was built in 1893 and at 26 degrees is the steepest cog railway in Austria. And we just descended a slope of 24 degrees in the van!! Although they have steam locos, ours is a diesel electric and the trip is surprisingly quiet. As we get to the steepest gradients, comparison with the odd building and the many treeds shows us how steep it is. I hope they have multiple redundant safety systems. Rolling backward uncontrolled would not be fun. Even if it was, the fun would be short lived.

We started at around 550 metres above sea level (that is briny sea, not Wolfgangsee) and rise to 1783 meters over about 5 kilometers during the 30 minute trip. At the top, the view is to die for (even with good safety systems). We know how wonderful it is because of photos on the summit. Unfortunately we can only see 50 meters due to the cloud we have been in since 1400 metres. It is reminiscent of skiing in the mist.

There is not much to do given the heavy mist so we return on the 12.45 train, which is steam. Not such a good choice for the downward trip as it rattles and bumps for the whole trip to the bottom. This time we are on the correct side of the train to fully appreciate the magnificent view when we exit the cloud at 1400 meters.

At the bottom, we take the boat to St Wolfgang. It is a delightful village, bigger than Hallstatt and not crowded. There are numerous multistory buildings with wide V shaped rooves and timber balconies at each level covered in colourful flowers. It is truly beautiful. We think we made the right decision; to the extent it was a decision and not pure serendipity.

We have lunch in an evocative Austrian restaurant then walk around the streets for an hour or two. Much to our dismay, by 4pm the cloud has burnt off the mountain and we have good views up to where we were some hours before. But splendid views abound here so one missed view results in another experienced one so we don't complain (some of the time).

Our boat back to the van leaves at 4.50 leaving us time to walk along the lakeside bank past houses and boatsheds. It would be a nice place to live, though perhaps not in winter.

We can stay the night here in the car park. There is another mobile home with the same idea. And we have a beautiful view of the mountain top. Not that I am complaining.

We spend the evening until dark not complaining as we gaze through perfect blue skies at the mountain top. After dark Ro takes some photos of the fairyland lights of St Wolfgang over the lake. And one of the twinkling light on top of the mountain.

Friday 14 July 2017 opposite St Wolfgang, Austria

By morning the clouds have reformed and the mountain top is obscured. Probably by mid afternoon the sky will be clear again. Yesterday we toyed with the idea of taking the cog railway again if the sky were to be blue this morning. But it isn't so we will go on to Salzburg with heavy hearts.

Driving further we reach St Gilgen at the end of the lake. There is a cable car here and the gondalas are disappearing up the mountain and into the cloud. That would also be a spectacular ride but not while the cloud is present.

Our path takes us between towering rocky mountains which have what look like manicured green pastures between thick forests. As the peaks start to flatten out at their bases, houses are dotted about. It is a visual feast.

There are two other cable cars, one of which we stop at to each lunch. From our vantage point, the gondalas look like they would hold two or maybe four people. Later we walk over to the launch platform and the gondalas are considerably bigger. In winter, they take perhaps 8 skiers to the summit where they can ski down long ski runs over many kilometers. A bit different from the ski fields in Australia.

By 2 pm we reach Salzburg. Driving through the city is not much fun. Finding somewhere to park is even less. After a brief look around from the van, including masquerading as a bus in a busses only terminal, we decide the crowds and gereral hubbub, together with the constant rain, is not worth the effort. The pleasure we got from St Wolfgang is still fresh in our memories and we are happy to keep that.

Next stop is Berchtesgaden in Germany. This part of Germany pokes into Austria so we will go in and out of Germany to get there.

Although the drive is more beautiful villages and scenery, Berchtesgaden is infected with tourists and busses galore. Once again, we decide it is not worth the trouble and move on to Innsbruck, which has been recommended to us by Scot and various tourist books. We will stay overnight then get public transport into the medieval alt stadt.

At our intended camp site, we cannot raise anyone so we will wildcamp outside where it is suitable quiet.

Saturday 15 July 2017 Innsbruck, Austria

It rains steadily all night and by morning there are still isolated showers. It seems Innsbruck will go the same way as Salzburg.

We visit McDonalds for wifi and, after some emails etc, check Innsbruck weather. Showers predicted so Innsbruck gets a miss.

Instead we instruct Thomasina to plot a track to Interlaken in Switzerland. We want to avoid motorways and when asked if we want to avoid tollways respond “You bet your sweet ass we do” although the available answers were actually Yes or No. After analysing 1.1 million roads, she asks if we want to avoid ferries. We answer “Avoid ferries, space craft and horse and cart tracks”. A simple Yes is all that is required. So, within 20 minutes, we are underway.

We travel through more of the wonderful scenery we have become used to for 30 kilometers until we reach the Swiss border. It is here that we are reacquainted with spectacular scenery. Austria is merely wonderful; Switzerland is awe inspiring.

It comes at a cost. We crawl up steep monutains in second then first gear. But the views we are rewarded with are magnificent. Not that I can fully appreciate them because the roads wind and twist through hairpin bends and next to sheer drops of 100s of meters. Furthermore, there are hundreds of motorbikes, sometimes passing at inappropriate places, and cars vying for the often narrow road. But this is definitely the way to see Switzerland.

We have 400 kilometers to travel between Innsbruck and Interlaken with a predicted time of 7 hours. Our intention is to stop half way at a camp. We understand wild camping is frowned upon in Switzerland and our waste water is getting full and house water getting empty.

Along the way we stop for lunch beside a fast flowing aqua coloured river. Using a bucket and lanyard, I refill our fresh water. At a pinch we can wild camp later if we have to.

By 6 pm we come across a camp site which will do us for tonight. Chatting with a Swiss guy outside, we are told that they are fully booked but where he is parked is an overflow area on which we should be able to stay overnight. Reception closes at 7 and it is 6.15 now. It takes over 30 minutes for three campers to be booked in. Their system needs improvement. We can stay in the overflow area for 28 AUD, which Ro has negotiated down from around 45 AUD as we don't need anything other than a place to park.

After dinner we walk to a bridge which leads to the village about 200 metres away. Tomorrow we will explore it before driving on to Interlaken.

We will have a roaring stream to lull us to sleep. And the occasional passenger train.

Sunday 16 July 2017 Davros Glaris ,Swiss Alps

The trains stop but the stream doesn't. And the night is cold. Full thermals and a cold nose to boot. Nevertheless, we sleep well and awake to a sunny, if chilly, morning.

We dump and fill then park 150 metres down the road near the bridge leading to the village. Walking over the bridge, there is nothing much to see. When we walk up a rather unpromising road, the vista opens up. To our right are Swiss chalets in green meadows and to our left is a track along which a seat has been built which overlooks a stream and the gently curving rail line and road. From our vantage point perhaps 50 metres above the scene we survey, we watch as a train winds its way along the track and cars negotiate the curves on the road. The stream continues on its unstoppable path until further along it is temporarily halted by a dam. There are numerous small hydro stations which harness the massive potential energy which these alps provide.

Returning to the van, we continue toward Interlaken five hours away, although only 200 km.

The reason for the 40kph average is the numerous villages but,more significantly, the long steep climb over the alps. It is more second gear travel for kilometer after kilometer with hairpin bends galore. Normally on steep climbs, I pull over to let motorists pass. However, if the road is too steep and I stop, I am doomed to first gear as changing to second gear drops the revs too much and we drop out of the torque band, never to return. So it is that cars and motorbikes have to wait for straight sections to pass our constant 43 kph. Motor bikes are somewhat less patient and zoom by generally in a safe fashion but sometimes not. And there are probably thousands of bikes. I would love to try these roads but there is nothing in Australia which comes close. As we ascend, one biker makes a loop around his head after passing. It may be a signal to his friends to pass, which they do, or it may be a comment on our sanity bringing a motorhome up here. But we do see a few other crazies with motorhomes.

After perhaps 45 minutes of second gear crawl we eventually reach the point at 2400 metres above sea level where the road starts to descend. At the peak there are hundresd of bikes in the car park. We stop for coffee and enjoy watching the bikers negotiating the hairpin curves, with various levels of competence. One, who appears competent by the lean on his bike, comes off a bit further on after one such hairpin bend. He is OK but his bike is not. Some hours later we leave and drive by asking if he needs help as it is cold now and getting colder. He says someone is coming to pick him up and there are three or four other bikers with him so we leave. It was our intention to stay here tonight but there is quite a lot of ice in the area and it will be very cold overnight.

Instead we continue down and, after dropping perhaps 1000 meters, find a roadside stop which will do us.

After dinner we walk to a hydro station which is near by. The dammed water is crystal clear, leading us to wonder why the rushing streams are aqua in colour. Presumably there are minerals which drop out of suspension when there is no turbulance.

Monday 17 July 2017 30 km from Interlaken ,Switzerland.

The night is a pleasant temperature; which would not have been the case up with the ice. The morning is clear and sunny and we walk after breakfast to look at an unusual tent a few hundred meters back. It looks like it may be a scout jambouree.

Rather than drive into Interlaken, our plan is to park at Brienz, which is much smaller, and go by boat to Interlaken. Brienz is only 30 minutes from our overnight stop and we arrive before 11. Parking is still not easy because we don't have any Swiss Franks and the meters don't take cards. Fortunately a nearby hotel changes some euro for us and we can park.

Brienz is proud of its lake side prominade with good reason. We enjoy our 10 minute walk to the boat jetty. There is a boat leaving at 11.45 which we may take. However the last boat is around 16.30 so it may be better to go there by boat and back by train.

As we go to investigate train times, we see a cog rail opposite. Today is cloudless and the cog rain will take us up 1800 meters for what are predictably billed as sights of a lifetime. Given that we woz robbed at St Wolfgangsee, we will try this.

There is time to return to the van to get some jumpers which may be required up there. On our return, we can board and get seats we want in a compartment with a couple with one young boy and one baby.

The steam loco starts its ascent at a leisurely pace but before long we are climbing at the announced 25%. We climb through tunnels and up what seem impossibly steep grades. The lake below gets smaller as we climb. Reaching a passing point we pause for a few minutes before continuing on the heels of a train in front. If the first ½ hour gave us stunning views, the next ½ hour ensures we do not become blasé. We climb through pastures with the odd house and tracks which look impassable to vehicles, despite obvious two wheel grooves. Why someone would live in this isolation at this height is puzzling. There are large heards of beef and milk cows and goats which graze on slopes which look to be over 45 degrees. The cows, as we have observed before, have cow bells of different tones and there is a symphony of dull bells which we hear the whole afternoon.

Eventually the train pulls into the station at 2245 metres above sea level or 1700 metres above our starting point. Although it is bright sunshine, the air is cool so we are glad we brought jumpers.

As it is 2pm we get some rolls from the cafe and eat them overlooping the lake over 1.5 kilometers below us. Occasionally we see trains chugging up the steep incline. The track inscribes a broad S shape 200 metres below us. One side of the S is probably 80 meters higher than the other side as the track continues on its steep incline. We know there is another train as the chuf-chuf of the steam trains announce their arrival. When no train is coming, the only sound is the symphony of the dull cow bells rising from the pastures below.

After lunch we climb a peak which is perhaps 80 metres above the station. Here we get a panorama view of over 600 peaks we are told. We don't bother checking the number.

The next train leaves at 4.28 and it is now 4. The climb up and down from the peak is somewhat precarious. A slip could mean rolling down a steep slope to who knows where. The lake is a bit too far below to break one's fall.

We arrive in time to get the 4.28 but will wait for the last train at 5.40. There is another peak and a cable car station to visit.

The cable car provides an alternate access to this peak. It is on the other side of the mountain and covers the 1 hour train trip in 8 minutes. It is not your 4 person gondola but a large room sized car hanging from the cable by a 10 metre tower to cope with the angle of the cable, perhaps 65 degrees to the horizontal.

Continuing past the cable car station we climb another 40 or 50 metres to the highest point on the mountain.

We are back to the train station to see the last train enter. Five minutes later we are on our descent journey. Looking backward, the steepness is even more apparent. As we pass, goats are above us on impossible angles. Funny there is no warning to watch for falling goats.

The loco controls the speed of descent by compressing air in its cylinders. As the cylinders get very hot, they are cooled by water which is given off as steam. Then , when the loco is on the flat at a station, it sounds like the compressed air is used to move it to the next descent.

Although the clouds were starting to envelop the mountain top when we left, the sky is clear as we descend and the views are truly memorable. By the time we reach the bottom, we have had an experience which we will remember all our lives.

There is a slight sensation of things being not level as we walk back to the van along the prominade. We have some coffee and refreshments then go for a walk. The tourist information says that a street here is perhaps the prettiest in all Europe. Following the guide we walk up a quaint street to a cross street and along that until we come to a cobbled street leading back down to the prominade. Perhaps the writer's directions were of lower quality than his/her rhetoric, but we don't discover this gem. What we see is quaint but not exceptional. However, tourism is not about truth; it is about attracting tourists. On that score it has succeeded.

Our parking area prohibits any form of camping and excludes motorhomes after 10pm so we will move on and wild camp elsewhere.

Leaving Brienz, we start climbing yet another mountain. Part way up there is a large clearing which will do us. We have dinner as the traffic subsides and have a quiet night until about 5.30am when trucks start climbing the hill again.

Tuesday 18 July 2017 Near Brienz,Switzerland.

After breakfast we start on our 4 hour trip to Mulhouse where we will stay a few days for R&R. We stayed there six or seven years ago but cannot quite remember the details.

As we drive, the towering mountains give way to plains with low mountains surrounding. The number of lakes seems to increase but that may be because we are now not compartmentalised by the mountains.

We stop for morning tea at a roadside parking bay and, after coffee, investigate where the occupants of other cars have walked. There is a forest walk which leads down to the inevitable lake. We walk perhaps two kilometers before continuing on our way.

Our destination is in France but our path takes us first into Germany and along some motorways. It is nice to be travelling at a decent speed and performing pas de deux again with the other traffic. Ten kilometers before our camp we return to France. It seems a bit like coming home.

By 2pm we are at our camp site. It is getting hot and the pool is inviting. It will be nice to rest for a day or two.

Wesnesday 19 July 2017 Mulhouse, France.

The night is very hot and is followed by a hot day. We spend our time reading on our not-very-comfortable sun lounges and swimming in the good sized pool. The water is 27 or 28 degrees. In Europe, most places require one to shower before entering the pool and it is not uncommon for the shower to be colder than the pool. Fortunately the shower here has a large bore black plastic pipe leading to it which keeps the shower water pleasantly warm and sometimes bordering on too hot.

The day passes lazily, with the odd repair, limited by the heat in the van. It is nice to have a break from being a tourist.

Thursday 20 July 2017 Mulhouse, France.

Overnight it rains a little. Today we intend to move on to Offenburg, about 1 ½ hours away, to see Ardie and Anna.

There is the usual dumping and filling before we leave then a drive on the Autobahn to Offenburg. We arrive after lunch about 2.30 at Ardie's workshop.

We will stay one night in his yard then probably leave tomorrow. We need to change the oil and there is some rust on the door which I would like to fix. They will be tomorrow's jobs.

We greet Ardie and arrange to go to dinner tonight. His daughter, Natalie, has an 11 week old boy, Jonathon, and we will go to dinner with them and her husband, Marcus, together with Ardie and Anna in Durban, Natalie and Marcus' home villiage .

We are always aware that we can interrupt Ardie's work and we don't want to do that so we arrange to go back at 6pm when he closes. In the meantime we will go to Aldi to try to get our wayward sim card to communicate.

Ardie repairs cars and sells secondhand cars and has one which clients use when theirs are being repaired. He suggests we take that rather than the van. We gratefully accept. It is a small car and it feels odd being so close to the ground.

The Aldi store is only a few kilometers away so we arrive within a few minutes. The assistant who speaks English, as do most young Germans, discusses the problem with his manager. Unfortunately they can't do much. Aldi in Dresden is a different group from Alid here. Originally two brothers set up Aldi and, although they appear the same, they are different groups. In any case the package has been used so they doubt the other Aldi would take it back. On returning to the van, I fiddle a bit more and, hey presto, it now works. Whether the promise that it would work outside Germany, where I tried to use it, was hollow or not remains to be seen.

At 6pm, Ardie tells us he will go home and shower and will be back in 40 minutes. True to his word, as he always is, we leave the yard on his return and are in Durban, 7 km away, by 7.

Natalie, Marcus and now Johathon live on the second floor of a typical German building. We meet them and have a drink before walking to the restaurant 50 meters away. Although Jonathon has been a slightly difficult baby in that he cries a lot, we don't hear a peep from him all evening. Maybe the sound of a different language interests him. During dinner, we all talk easily, notwithstanding the language barrier. Natalie and Marcus both speak English reasonably fluently. Ardie and Anna are not as fluent but we manage to get our meaning across most times. I always feel guilty that I don't make enough effort with German, although they comment that they understand my German. What is not to understand about “Schon Tag” or “Danke”? I promise that I will improve my German by next year, ignoring the adage “Don't promise what you can't keep”............

On returning to Natalie and Marcus's home, Natilie needs to help Jonathon get to sleep and we don't want to make noise which may prevent that so we drive back with Ardie.

We are used to sleeping in Ardie's yard by now. We have probably spent 10 or 15 nights here over the six years since we met him when our timing belt broke in 2011.

Friday 21 July 2017 Offenburg Germany.

First thing is an oil change. Ardie wants to put the van up on the hoist which requires some close manoeuvering into the workshop. Just before raising the car, Ardie wonders where Rosemary is and the answer is 'still in bed'. The oil change waits while Ro hurriedly gets some clothes on and exits the van.

My task is to clean back some small areas of rust preparitory to filling and painting. Fortuitiously, Ardie has little on today so can devote some time to doing the work. His hourly cost is reasonable and the work is excellent. He commented that one of his customers suggested a plaque saying “The last remaining trustworthy German mechanic works here”. We can relate to the problem of getting an honest mechanic. We think we have been very fortunate to find him. He is not only honest but a superb mechanic.

By mid afternoon the grinding front brake has been checked (probably a stone), two small holes in the muffler have been welded, five or six rust spots have been fixed, including one significant one needing a metal patch and a plate has been fitted to the rear covering another area of corrosion. Ro has been concerned that we have been looking a bit Gypsie like but now the van is indistinguishable from new.......almost.

We leave by 4.30 and drive for a few hours, heading toward Charroux, 10 hours away by non motorway. Along the way, we find a picnic area which should do for tonight. Hopefully there will not be many trucks.

Saturday 22 July 2017 Offenburg Germany

Our hopes are dashed time and time again. Not only are there numerous trucks but the motorway (the non motorway does include some motorways) is busy all night.

Despite that we get a reasonable sleep.

We have 8 hours remaining to reach Charroux but we will break the journey into two. There is a camp around halfway which we will call in to. If it is warm we will stay there as they have a pool. If not we might wildcamp.

Our path takes us through quaint French villages and beautiful green countryside. After a few stops, we arrive at the camp by 4.30 pm. It is run by a Dutch couple and we see nothing but Belgium and Netherlands cars. It is common for the Dutch to escape the cooler Dutch weather for the warmer climate of these regions. To help things along, the weather forcast in the office is optimistic by two or three degrees over the official weather forecast.

Although the day is rather overcast, the pool is 28 degrees and the showers at the pool gate are very warm.

The night is pleasantly cool and the camp is very quiet overnight.

Sunday 23 July 2017 Luzy on Bourgogne France

It is a four hour trip to Charroux which we begin around lunch time. Along the way we look for LPG which must be getting low by now. If we run out, we affect showers, cooking and refrigeration. Along one motorway we visit a few fuel outlets but no gas is available. However, after checking two or three fuel outlets without success, we see LPG advertised the opposite way so exit at the next available off ramp. Having exited, finding the service station is not easy. Furthermore, we have no guarantee that if it is unattended that our card will be accepted.

We are in luck. Our card is accepted and we have the correct adaptor. Often after filling, the adaptor is hard to unscrew so I don't tighten it very much. This proves to be a mistake as the sealing O ring starts leaking when the tank is less than half full. Given that we will need to fill the tank before Scot and Maya take the van, this is no great problem.

With stops and breaks, we arrive at Charroux around 7.45pm. There is a camping area where we will spend te night as we think it too late to arrive unannounced at Mavis and Terry.

After setting up, we go for a walk which ends up at Mavis and Terry's. They are not home and we assume they have taken the dogs for a walk. As we leave, we meet Mavis and Terry returning from their walk. The dogs remember us and greet us effusively as do Mavis and Terry, albeit with noticably less licking than the dogs. We explain we have camped in the town campsite but they insist we stay there overnight.

After walking back to the van, Ro makes a quick dinner of vegetables and eggs before we drive to Mavis and Terry's where we join them for coffee before turning in.

Monday 24 July 2017 Charroux France

First thing after breakfast is a walk up past the cemetary with the three dogs. Cemetaries and we go back a long way in France, perhaps because they are so prevailent here. Every villiage seems to have one, usually with a grand wall and full of headstones and graves in varying states of repair. For the first few years of our travel here, we always seemed to end up at one for morning tea. Now we circumnavigate this one periodically when walking the dogs.

On our return we have coffee with Mavis then John, whom we have met each year and whose company is always entertaining, turns up.

Mavis says she has a ham to cook for lunch so while we mooch about, she cooks that and it is delicious. We have many fond memories of lunches and dinners on the typically French terrace overlooking the meadow behind.

After lunch we go to Civray to pay our insurance premium. I had sent them an email asking, apologetically in English, the current premium and some bank details. That was a week ago and we have received no reply. Maybe they did not receive it. On arriving, we discover the email was replied to this morning. The problem was we gave them the vehicle registration but, in typical French fashion, there was no way to associate the registration number with the insurance policy which covered it. The policy number was required but that number was not clear on the policy. The French have some unusual ways of doing things.

Paying the policy is not so easy. Although they now take credit and debit cards, our Travel Money card is declined. Going opposite to a hole in the wall, the machine will only give me 300 Euro which, together with the cash we have, leaves us 11 Euro short. Mavis makes up the difference for us.

Next some shopping. Mavis has groceries to buy and there are a few items we want so all goes in the one trolley as we will pay for the lot. Perhaps not unexpectedly the card is declined again despite the fact that I know it has funds and that it has not been declined by Lidl this year anywhere else. Bit embarrassing really.

On returning home, we go down to the Tourist Office for some wifi as my SIM has expired today after finally working for a few days. The message shown is that our High Speed Internet has expired. High speed should be many megabits per second. The maximum we achieved was 20 kilobits per second!! Not even as fast as low speed!

At the Tourist Information Office, with some difficulty we log on and find that our card is low due to security deposits taken out against petrol purchases and the card is temporarily empty. Reloading via NetBank, we go to the bank opposite to get some cash. Once again, the quirky French opening hours are our downfall. Mavis has already warned us that the bank only opens on certain weekday mornings and this is afternoon, whether it be a designated day or not. However the ATM is also not working. Whether it is because it is having lunch or is napping, we don't know.

There is another cash point nearby naturally inside a building which appears closed. Trying the door, we find an operating machine inside and get our cash. Back to Mavis and we can repay the amunts we have borrowed.

We were unsure if we would go on today but it is starting to get late so we spend some time with Mavis and Terry and turn in for the night around 10pm.

Tuesday 25 July 2017 Charroux France

It rains overnight but by the morning is clear. After another walk with the dogs, Ro goes blackberry collecting and I do some vacuuming in between helping Terry fix a non functioning electric window on his car. Later Mavis has made a lovely lunch of roasted vegetables which we enjoy before departing around 4pm. There is a dump point at Charroux so we visit there and then set off toward the Loire Valley.

Our destination is Amboise, about 3 hours away. Along the way we get fuel via a deviation which may not have warranted the saving over the standard prices. We generally find that buying fuel at Intermarche Supermarkets means a saving of 10 eurocents per litre. The only problem arises when they are card only because our card still wants a signature at some places, despite the fact that the cashiers never check them and often don't bother with them anyway. Fortunately all is OK with this one.

Rather than stay in a biggish town such as Amboise we think we will stop before. Having seen appropriate stopping points, now we want one, we can't find one. Same old same old. Passing through a rather ordinary village, there is a car park near some recycling bins which will do. Although we are 20 metres from the bins, they seem to be popular because numerous cars stop to deposit things. The recycling is admirable, but other than peaceful.

By dark, the attraction of the recycling bins has diminished and we have a quite night's sleep.

Wednesday 26 July 2017 Chapelle Blanch st Martin, France

After breakfast we continue our trip toward Amboise. Along the way we call into our second home, Lidl, to buy provisons and to have lunch. For travellers who have morning tea in cemetary carparks, Lidl carparks are quite a step up. Further on our path we deviate when we see a sign for Chateau Chenonceau which the literature says is the best Chateau in the valley.

After turning in to the Chateau entrance, we have an OhOh moment when the car park comes into sight. It is chockers. Full of buses, cars and motorhomes and we get a glimpse of hoards either walking toward or away from a leafy avenue. Bloody tourists. Why do they have to spoil it for us?

We park our Escargot de Wheels with the bloody tourists, afraid we will be tarred with the same brush. The entrance is 100 metres along a pathway and on reaching it our fears are confirmed. There are Bloody Tourists everywhere and on top of that, it has started to rain. Do we want to traipse around gardens in the wet with Bloody Tourists? We think not. Instead we walk along the moat for a little way, marvelling at the vast number of ducks. Oviously the Duck Tourist Guide also waxes lyrical about this Chateau.

Instead we set our path toward another Chateau which the literature describes as the most wonderful Chateau in the area. We choose this one over another which the literature says is the most splendid in the area.

Arriving 20 minutes later at Chateau de Villandry, the rain has not eased and it is around 4.30pm. We enquire at the ticket office what tomorrow's weather promises and are told it should be similar to today but that Friday will be better. We will stay nearby tonight and see what tomorrow brings.

We have parked outside the chateau and contemplate staying there overnight. However the rocking every time a car passes dissuades us and we move on a few kilometers to a bigger clearing at the roadside. This will be quieter.

Thursday 27 July 2017 Villandry, France

When we wildcamp, there is always a slight feeling that we mght be exposed to risk. We are always careful as to where we stay to minimize that risk. After showering and getting into bed, I am reading and Ro has just turned off the light when we hear a short whistle. Ro sits bolt upright and asks what it was. I feign ignorance and we settle down for the night when we cannot hear any other noises.

The morning dawns overcast with drizzle. We intend to get back to the chateau around 9 to get a convenient park so by 8.45 we are ready to leave. Ro suggests I check the tyres and, much to my amazement, the front driver tyre is completely flat! But why? It occurs to us that some local may not have liked us staying here and may have emptied the air.

I checked the spare earlier in the trip so there should be no problem. Removing the spare from below the van is not much fun but at least is possible whereas prior to renewing the flooring some years ago, it was not. But the tyre feels a bit soft which is a bit perplexing.

After some problems jacking up the van, the spare is fitted but on lowering, the spare is as flat as the one just removed. Moving the valve, the fault is apparent. Last year we replaced two perished valves and checked the rest, which appeared OK. Unfortunately, whether or not moving the valves to check them caused the failure, both valves have failed. The whistle last night was the first valve failing and the spare may have failed when the tyre was inflated earlier in this trip.

So we are in the middle of nowhere with two flat tyres and the nearest repairer 8 km away. What to do?

First thought is maybe we can ride there. But a wheel is too heavy. Next thought is to use the trolley we wombled a few years ago and use for transporting the waste water transfer tank. The wheel fits on but the handle is not long enough to trail behind the bike. And the rain is increasing.

As we contemplate a solution, two taxis drive by. Maybe we can hail the next one. Unfortunately over the next 15 minutes there is no next one.

Plan B: out with a black marker and we write a note “Please can you call us a taxi”. We hold that up to passing cars hoping that only English speakers will read the sign and stop. No one does until a guy in a small van stops but he does not speak English. With Ro's bit of French and some gesticulations in the direction of our flat tyres, the guy understands and calls a taxi, which will arrive in 20 minutes.

Around 30 minutes later Natalie, a lovely French lady with good English, arrives having had some slight difficulty finding us as we gave the road but no intersection. After loading the tyre into her boot on a plastic shower curtain we have, we set off. As we have no actual address, she follows Thomasina's instructions and we arrive at a garage which can help.

She explains to the man at the garage, who speaks no English, that the valve has failed and within 5 minutes he has replaced it. We explain that a second valve has also failed but as it is nearly closing time for lunch, we will return with it at 2pm. They say we can pay then which we think is very trusting of them.

Returning to the van, we pay Natalie 20 euro and bid her a Bon Jour. She has been delightful and we have been fortunate in her speaking very acceptable English, which she says she does rarely.

As it is only 11.45, there is plenty of time to change the wheel and get back to the garage by 2. We arrive as they are opening after lunch and within a five minutes we are on our way. They have charged us the princely sum of 3 euro for the valves! I fit the spare back under the van and we are back in business.

Opposite is a Mr Bricolage where we can buy some hardware items which we need then it is back to Chateau Villandy.

The day has improved considerably and there are no tourist buses in sight. How fortunate we have been to have used the first part of the day fixing wheels!

We buy two Chateau and Jardin tickets by 4pm. We have until 6.30 pm to look over the Chateau then until 7.30 to look over the garden. However, if we are later than 7.30 in the garden, we can let ourselves out by a gate near a church. How very civilised.

The Chateau was built in the mid 1500s but by 1899 was abandoned. It appealed to a Spanish man of little means who fell in love and married an American of sunstantially greater means. They purchased it and spent the rest of their lives returning it to some of its former glory, notably the garden which is now considered one of the finest in France.

The Chateau is impressive but we have become blasé about such opulent buildings. We feel that we have seen enough grand buildings of past times. However the garden is in a different category. It is stunning. Rather they are stunning. There are 6 or 7 different gardens, ranging from water features, to kitchen gardens, to mazes, to herb gardens and forest areas as well. We do not leave the garden until after 8 pm.

Back at the van, Ro prepares dinner. There is a sign prohibiting campervans staying overnight although it looks like another van is intending flouting that prohibition. We discuss returning to our stopping point of last night then decide to continue further to a campsite about 30 km away.

Along the way, as it is too late to check in to a campsite, we find a leafy stopping point by the river. We will continue on to the campsite tomorrow and might stay a few days.

Friday 28 July 2017 20 km West of Villandry, France

Maybe because it is so quiet, we manage to sleep in well past our usual late start. It is 11 before we begin the final 8 km to our camp site. We have a GPS coordinate but it is a bit short on digits so may not be accurate.

It isn't accurate and when we run out of track in a field, we abandon our search. Instead we will start back East toward Dijon where we will meet Scot and Maya Monday week.

As we retrace our path, Ro looks to her right and there at the end of the road is a splendid Chateau. We alter direction despite complaints from you know who and enjoy walking around the village of Rigny Usse after Ro photographs the Chateau to within an inch of its life.

Continuing after an enjoyable walk, we find a motorhome dump (waste actually....not the motorhome) and avail ourselves of the services before continuing on a road which takes us past our flat tyre camp spot.

Our next campsite is 2 hours away but by the time we call into Maccas for wifi (and coffee), it is 5.30 before we are near to it.

As we pass through a village, we see a lake which may have parking around it. A quick walking recce confirms a lovely spot overlooking the water. That will do us and because it is early, we have time to walk and enjoy the peacefulness around the lake.

Our only concern is that we have wild camped for three nights so far and our water is getting low for showers. On the other side of the lake, about 200 metres along the bank, is a recreational area with a wash basin where we can get a bucket of water. That will ensure we don't run out tonight. But we will need water before we wild camp again.

Saturday 29 July 2017 Rouvres les Bois , France

Our camp is only 13 km away, assuming the GPS coordinates are correct. In 20 minutes they are confirmed as correct as we drive into the camp site.

It is very farm like, with a large paddock and various treed areas and a nice swimming pool, albeit on the small side and circular.

We have a few repairs to do including some filling with Builders Bog on one wall. And the water pump has stopped cutting out when the water is turned off. That is a bit odd because it seems to work for a few weeks then stops working and it is not clear why.

But a bit of reading in the sun is first on the agenda. Later the repairs are carried out between more reading and relaxing. Later in the afternoon, it is quite warm so we visit the pool. It is not as warm as our last pool, 28, but is still pleasant.

The evening is pleasantly warm with a mild breeze. We have a lovely salmon dinner then settle in for a quiet night. The sound of happy campers drifts through our windows. Mostly Dutch we think.

Sunday 30 July 2017 Vatan , France

The day is warm and we spend most of the day reading, relaxing and swimming.

Around midday we go walking outside the campsite and discover a Carrefour only about 300 metres away from the camp. Ro had unerstood that it was around 9 km away so we are quite surprised. As we approach, we realise we have not brought any money but need some supplies. We contemplate returning to the camp to get some money, then, as an afterthought, we think it would be wise to see if they are closed for lunch. Not only have we forgotten our money but we have also forgotten it is Sunday and, in France, most shops are closed Sundays.

Returning, we do more of this morning's activities. We will visit Carrefour tomorrow.

Monday 31 July 2017 Vatan , France

After breakfast we walk again to Carrefour and buy a few provisions. We have been vascillating as to what to do in the next week and at this point have considered going to Giverny, Monet's town, which we enjoyed so much a few years ago. If we do that, we will visit Lidl for more provisions meaning our Carrefour shopping is minimal.

On returning, I do battle with the water pump again. The infernal device turns on and off as it should for a time then fails to turn off. By altering this and that, I can get it to turn off as it should but then it refuses to turn on. It is very frustrating. After two hours and numerous tests and dissembly/reassembly cycles, I admit defeat......but only for today.

It is cooler today than yesterday so a good day to go cycling. Carrefour is just at the outskirts of Vatan so we cycle from there into the town. It is a typical French village, somewhat delapidated with narrow winding streets. There is a lovely Hotel De Ville or town hall and a square where there is a market 7am to 1pm on Wednesdays.

After returning to camp, we log on to the wifi hotspot and, among other things, check

the weather for the next few days. It looks like it will warm up so we may stay a bit longer. Maybe we will go to the market Wednesday.

Tuesday 1 August 2017 Vatan , France

It rains steadily during the night. The morning is overcast and it seems unlikely that the predicted 27 will eventuate. However it stops raining and there does seem to be a break in the clouds.

We have been a bit concerned about the house battery which is showing low voltage on the monitor. Added to this, our new battery has sometimes sounded a bit low on starting, which seems a bit odd. To remedy this we will drive to Lidl, 22 km away, for provisions. It is not entirely surprising when we go to start that the motor will not turn over. Fortunately our neighbour has his car next to his tent and our request for a jump start is granted. It takes only a second or so to start and we are soon on our way. Later, under further investigation a loose clamp is discovered which is probably the cause of the poor starts from a new battery.

We drive along France's equivalent of the Gun Barrel Highway for 20 kilometers and observe four American flags. We assume this to be the French thanking the Americans for liberation during WW2. Presumably there were some fierce battles in this area, perhaps involving aircraft.

Our Lidl shopping is good as usual. However the French casual way is demonstrated when a line of eight or nine customers is at the only open register while the cashier sorts labels on a counter nearby! Then, as we exit with our trolley, a car enters the carpark, drives across our path then stops immediately in front of us to let out his passenger. We have to divert behind him. We have often observed that the French way seems to be Number 1 First.

Returning to the camp we have lunch of fresh bread, cheese, tomato, avocado and ham. Very nice!

After lunch, I attack the pump again and finally get it working properly. How long it stays that way remains to be seen.

More reading and a swim and the day is approaching closure. What a life.

Wednesday 2 August 2017 Vatan , France

Today is expected to be hot and the sky is perfectly clear. After breakfast we ride to the town market, me hopeful of getting some sandpaper.

It is a typical town market with lots of food and clothing but no hardware. There are trucks with clothing which extend by various means to make quite large stalls. They presumably travel from market to market on a daily basis. The clothing is quite expensive.

By lunch we cycle back to our camp and spend the remainder of the day swimming and reading.

Our plan to revisit Giverney has evaporated but we are still contemplating returning to Amboise to see an exhibition of Da Vinci's machines. We will see what tomorrow is like. If coolish, we will probably leave. We are really marking time until next Monday when we meet Scot and Maya at 6.45 in Dijon.

Thursday 3 August 2017 Vatan , France

It seems a bit cooler this morning so a good day to travel, albeit only 1 ½ hours to Amboise.

After the usual getting started chores and an internet session we are away. We recognise quite a few sights along the way as this is the route we took coming here. Revisiting Amboise retraces about 80 kilometers but we have time to spare and we are ready to move on.

Along the way we fill with diesel and stop for morning tea, having had a gendarmes car following us for 5 kilometers..... or so it seemed. Road signs slow us to 50 on some S bends and they seem to be mandatory rather than our advisory signs. Generally vehicles seem to slow to around 60 or so but I don't know whether this is illegal. The sign would suggest so and thus it is with concern that I see the police car when I am over the limit. He remains close on my tail which may mean he is watching or that he is impatient for me to go at a reasonable speed rather than the signed speed. When we turn off, he continues so all is good.

We reach Amboise around 12 and see a Lidl. We can buy fresh bread there and a few other things. We really like their freshly baked Ciabattas for lunch and there is also some English cheese and an Australian Chardonnay which we like. When in France, we like to sample the local cuisine.

Parking where we did nearly a week ago we have lunch by the river then cycle to the residence where Leonardo's spent the last three years of his life under the patronage of Francois I. Francios provided him shelter and an income plus money for his experiments and in return only asked for his presence daily to discuss matters of interest. He was quite taken by Leonardo which says something for Francois in regognising Leonardo's genius.

The chateau is about 2 kilometer ride away but it is flat down to the turnoff. Once off the main street, the road narrows but is full of people mainly at eating establishments. The narrow road and starts to climb but not excessively. There is a steady stream of people winding its way up to Chateua du Clos Luce. After perhaps 800 metres we get to the top of the hill and the entrance gate is 30 metres down the other side.

By now it is quite warm and the sun is shining from a cloudless sky. Not good weather for Ro who laps up any passing breeze. Unfortunately we are back onto the tourist route so we queue to buy tickets.

A narrow spiral staircase leads to a covered walkway then into Leonardo's bedroom. It is large but sparcely furnished. There are paintings by his students and assorted artifacts of his time, which was 1516 to 1519.

We move slowly through the chateau with the throng. After 5 or 6 rooms, we descend to a basement where models of some of his many machines are showcased. There is a room of war machines such as catapults, cannon and the like then another of civil machines such as bridges, boats and pumping systems then another of various gear systems and another of scientific instruments. One is struck by his breadth of knowledge and ingenuity. There is also a mock up of his work studio where he painted, designed and built models.

There is an extensive garden where 20 of his machines are reproduced in large models. Apart from various lifting machines, flying machines (which mostly didn't) and war machines there was a lake where one could try out one of his paddle wheel boats. They looked quite authentic apart from the modern clothes and possibly the orange bouyancy vests which joy riders have to wear. Maybe the bouyancy vests are appropriate as Leonardo invented the first life ring, which design is still used today. There are also 2 metre diameter transparent disks of his paintings and drawings which hang from the trees and create ghost like apparitions under the low sun.

It is 6.45 when we leave the gardens. It is an easy cycle back to the van where we have some refreshments before setting off toward Dijon, 5 hours away. We have agreed we will drive until 8.30 as dinner any later would upset sleeping.

As 8.30 approaches, we start looking for an overnight place to stop. Fortunately, as we pass through a small village and over a river, there is an aire, a parking place intended for motor homes. There are three or four others there but there is plenty of room. Setting up only takes a few minutes then Ro cooks dinner and we are in bed by 11. The squeeling of delighted children stops by 11.15 and we can go to sleep.

Friday 4 August 2017 Somewhere 1 ½ hours east of Amboise , France

We have a four hour trip to our next camp site below Dijon. We expect to stay there until Monday when we will drive to Dijon to pick up Scot and Maya.

It is the usual drive with the odd French slight-of-hand slipped in. Around one roundabout, of which there are hundreds, our exit has a sign “Barre 10 km” and half a barricade. There is no “Deviation” or detour sign so we loop the roundabout then decide we will chance it and squeeze past the barricade. We find no barrier to our progress until we get to the next roundabout where another “Barre” sign and ¼ of a barricade blocks our exit. We ignore it and continue to the next roundabout where another lone “Barre” sign sits forlornly on our exit. After 20 km we have seen nothing but then see another “Barre” sign with a “Deviation” direction. We will follow the Deviation signs although from experience we know they may peter out. On this occasion they don't and although our trip is 20 or so kilometers longer, we eventually get back on track.

Along the way we see some GPL or LPG so fill our gas tank. A full tank will see out Scot and Maya's travels of three weeks. This time I tighten the adaptor and we do indeed get a full tank.

Stops along the way erode our arrival time so that by 3 we are 10 km from our camp. But these 10 km are filled with interesting sights. France has an extensive canal system but, unlike England's narrow canals, these are small rivers. As we travel downhill, we pass perhaps 15 locks which have large holding ponds associated with each. We see large river craft moored at various points, much larger than the English canal longboats.

Three kilometers from our camp site we pass over the canal and through the delightful town of St Berain-sur- Dheune. We should go back to explore that further.

Our campsite is as per its GPS coordinates and is lovely. We arrive around 4.30 pm but there is some disagreement between club members as to where we can park so it is 5 before we are set up. It is still hot so we have a swim before a late dinner.

Saturday 5 August 2017 St-Berain-sur-Dheune, France

Not so warm today but pleasant none the less. We plan reading plus a few van improvements including Ro blackening the bumper and me removing some old carpet from the boxes behind the cab seats. They require cleaning with a wire brush on the grinder then painting. We have got power on this site, which we usually don't use. However, our fridge is not as cold as it should be and 240 volts helps cool it. Furthermore, although we can run the grinder from the car inverter, the grinder lacks power and the inverter cuts out after 5 or 10 minutes so the 240 volts is a good opportunity to get the job done. There is also a small fold out table I want to make to increase bench space in the galley. That job has been waiting on a saw of some description and we purchased a hacksaw yesterday.

So between reading and our jobs, the day passes. We have tomorrow to fill then Monday we go to Dijon.

Sunday 6 August 2017 St-Berain-sur-Dheune, France

Another lazy day reading relaxing and swimming. Toward dusk we go for a walk outside the camp site but the track quickly degrades into an impassable one so we return.

I do manage to make a folding table which will help with logistics when using the kitchen. Any extra space when living in such a confined space is valued. And Ro blackent the bumper which improves the look of the van. It now looks better than new.

Monday 7 August 2017 St-Berain-sur-Dheune, France

We need to leave after lunch for the drive to Dijon. But this morning I want to see if I can adjust the fridge gas burner. It is burning rather richly so I need to clean out the air induction parts. Unfortunately, in the process, I poke the drill in too far and destroy the nozzle. Not what I wanted to do. No chance of getting a new burner so either we use 12 volt when travelling and 240 volt each night or I try to make a gas jet. Once again it is a bit of “today we will make a Ferrari out of this old aluminium can” but the Ferrari is a gas jet. The hole in the jet is perhaps 0.2 of a millimeter and I was rather remiss in not packing my .2 mm drills. Eventually a sewing needle does the job and the fridge is working again, albeit running rather richly. At least it works.

We leave by 3 and drive along the usual lovely backroads. We intend to call by a campsite 13 km from Dijon to see whether we want to return after picking up Scot and Maya. Unfortunately we come up against the old Rour Barre so we abaondon that idea and instread head for a camp in Dijon.

Arriving about 5, we queue up and decide to check in now as later it may be full. The plot is quite large and we have some refreshments until 6.30 when we drive the 1.5 km to the station. We are not prepared for how big the rail area is. And there is no obvious entrance.

So our problem is how to locate Scot and Maya. The perimeter of the rail yard is 3 or 4 kilometers. On one side is an inauspicious exit in a long wall and on the other side, 1.5 km away, is a car park entrance. Niether seems the logical point for passengers on foot to exit.

On the car park side is a one minute pickup area so I park there and stay with the van while Ro goes looking for them. After 20 minutes, she finally emerges with them, having found them near to the platform into which their TGV had arrived ten minutes late. Within 10 minutes we are back at the camp site and ready to set up.

Scot and Maya don't want pizza, the only offering at the camp from a mobile wood fired pizza van so walk further afield. We have bits and pieces in the van. It is a very warm night so cooking is not appealing. After our snacks, I feel I would like a pizza so we walk 150 metres to the van where Scot and Maya are waiting for theirs, having found nowhere else within walking distance.

We eat eminently forgettable pizza on the grass next to the van and chat until dark. Now to organise sleeping arrangements for four in a van 2 metres by 4.5.

The solution is to make a narrow double bed using the dinette table and we will sleep where we always do. Logistics are important, so while Scot and Maya go to the shower block we set up the beds. We then shower while they ensconse themselves in their bed. It all works out OK and we all sleep satisfactorily.

Tuesday 8 August 2017 Dijon, France

Today we will explore the Burgundy wine trail. Our route takes us through the most delightful villages we have come across in France, perhaps with the exception of Piriac-sur-mer which we visited some years ago.

Scot and Maya are keen to try the wines on offer in the region so we visit 3 or 4 Caves, tasting rooms often attached to large cellars. One we visit offers an unguided tour through the wine production area then into the 80 metre long cellar where there are hundreds of oak barrels full of maturing wines. Afterward we taste two red and two white wines explained by a rather pomoous Frenchman with quite a good grasp of English. We pay 5 euro to taste the wines but none appeals sufficiently to buy.

When I say “we” with respect to tasting, that is not strictly correct. Scot is driving so he does not taste wines other than the odd sip. He has three days with me as a tutor to get used to driving the van along these narrow roads. He gets a rapid lesson in wall hugging when a large truck approaches in a very nappro laneway. Fortunately the truck drivers know their dimensions well so all we had to do was almost scrape our mirror on the wall and the truck inched by.

During the afternoon we wind our way toward Beaune via beautiful villages and the odd tasting cave, eventually ending up at Camping Municipal which is quite acceptable and will do for tonight.

We set up then go for a walk into Beaune which is a walled city and very evocative. After exploring for 40 minutes, we come across a supermarket where we can buy some meat to barbeque back at the camp.

By the time we arrive back, we are ready to have dinner. Scot builds a fire while I attack the dam waterpump which is being obstreperous again. He cooks some staek and hamburgers on what I hear later is a hand sized fire. Never-the-less he cooks it well and we have salad, potatoes and a zuccini salad and the meat on a picnic table near the barbeque.

Later it is time to prepare for our night's sleep. So while we use our well oiled routine to make the beds, Scot and Maya go to the shower block to remove theirs.

Another restful night is had by some. Ro and I know that because we were awake observing them sleeping. Maybe we are anticipating our return to Oz but for whatever reason, neigher of us gets a full night's sleep.

Wednesday 9 August 2017 Beaune, France

I refuse to be beaten by a crummy pump so while Scot and Maya go riding back to Beaune, I fiddle a bit more. We need to vacate by 12 when S&M will be back from their ride. By 11.30, the pump has won.....this round. We are just waiting for them when the next occupant of the site arrives. We say we will be gone in five minutes. He is actually early as checkin is 2pm and checkout 12.

S&M turn up at 11.55 and we pack away the bikes to move on. But first, I want to give Scot a lesson in waste dumping. Naturally he is champing at the bit to try it himself. We move close to the dump point and I instruct Scot. The most important part is the lid which can sometimes hold some ill smelling liquid. Unfortunately it does and a bit splashes on Scot. This is most definitely a baptism of fire! But a good lesson in handling with care. We are on our way a short time later, Scot having used copious water to wash off.

We go via a Carrfour to buy some cheese and a 5mm drill bit; not for the same purpose then continue on the wine trail.

We stop at 4 or 5 villages, some with wine caves. This is certainly a most picturesque area of France and the number of vines under viticulture is astounding. We have never seen such vast areas of vines. Furthermore, many areas have stone walls surrounding bigger or smaller areas of vines which, we understand, affects the way the vines develop.

Our final village is Santenay where, while Scot and Maya sample some wines, we walk through the square where there is a large fountain then down some of the town streets, which are wider than in some other villages. As we walk, various farm equipment passes, which we think is rather nice.

By 5 we are ready to head for our camp site in Cluny, about 65 km away. From there it is 22 km to the Macon train station where we leave S & M for home.

The camp site is open and grassy and there is a barbeque nearby where Scot cooks some sausages which we eat with salads and potatoes and some French wine.

It starts to get dark about 9.30. Our last night together before S & M have some space.

Thursday 10 August 2017 Cluny , France

After our final bedding packup and breakfast, S & M go walking into the town while we start packing, which does not take long. It would have taken considerably shorter time had we only brought that which we wore. But it is all the other bits and pieces we have bought which take up the room. There is a 10 meter high pressure hose which was too cheap to pass up. Likewise some sanding pads and a wall scraper plus some plaster tools. What can you do? The prices are better here. But it is a long way to come for some plaster tools.

We are supposed to exit the camp site by 12 noon and we are 15 minutes late. The only problem is that boom gate code no longer works. Big brother is watching. Ro goes to reception and says that we can't open the boom gate. “It is after 12 noon” the reception guy says. “So how do we get out” asks Ro. “I open the gate” says the guy, content that we are aware that we did not leave by the appointed time.

Scot and Maya meet us outside where we all climb aboard and head for Macon via a mountain road which takes us through more villages. Scot is now driving and getting used to the narrow roads and village laneways.

We reach Macon around 1.30 and find a river to park by for our last lunch of baguettes, cheese, tomato, jambon (ham) and avocado. By 2.15 we are ready to leave for the station, 5 or 10 minutes away.

We are old hands at French trains now so go to the nearest screen to find out from which platform our train leaves. Unfortunately our 3.57 train is not listed. Are we at the correct station? We hope so because the other is 3 km away. Asking at Information we are casually informed the train leaves tomorrow. Bit of a problem that. It seems that there is track maintenance so the train has been cancelled. But we need to get to CDG for an 11.30 flight. Oh. There is a train to Dijon in 15 minutes and a TGV to CDG from there. We need to get some tickets for those trains.

At the ticket counter, one girl speaks a little English. We explain that the train has been cancelled and that information said we could go to Dijon and get a TGV there. That is correct. But the TGV terminates at Gare du Lyon. We would have to make our way to CDG from there. Will she give us tickets for that trip. No. But it is not our fault that the train has been cancelled. But the new tickets are more expensive so we are getting a good deal. But it costs us more because you have cancelled your train! Oh. It is cancelled! So you can have tickets one hour later on the TER and TGV which go to CDG. Mutter mutter. They will be fine thank you.

One hour later we are on the TER to Lyon where we then get the TGV to CDG. It looks like we will get our flight afterall.

The TGV will arrive at the next platform so it is down some stairs and up some others and within 10 minutes we are on our way to CDG. On reaching the airport it is plain sailing other than through the automated checkin machine where we need help.

Apart from a 45 minute queue to clear customs because only 3 of the 10 gates are staffed (and it is not even lunch time) , the flight to Hong Kong is uneventful if somewhat tiring.

Friday 11 August 2017 Hong Kong Airport, Hong Kong

We are glad to exit into the Hong Kong terminal. We have seat allocation for our next leg so all that remains is a 3 kilometer hike in the terminal to gate lounge 68 where we expect to board in 40 minutes or so. .

Hong Kong International is built into the bay on a huge sqaure of reclaimed land. Our gate lounge is the last one before the runways and bay beyond. As we look out over the runways, numerous ships are anchored another kilometer beyond the runway which runs transverse to our viewing point. It is a most unusual sight.

Our flight is due to depart at 7.10pm from the amended gate 70, but just as we are about to board at 6.30, there is a technical problem announced which will delay the flight by 35 minutes. About 70 percent have boarded so our not boarding means we wait outside the aircraft, which suits us. In Paris there was a delay on the tarmac and it became quite stuffy in the aircraft. It is hotter here so would have been worse. Sometimes you can be lucky.

Eventually they decide to move us to another plane at gate 69 and we reboard at 9 pm. Once finally underway, the flight is reasonably comfortable, given that we are very tired.

Saturday 12 August 2017 Tullamarine , Australia

The welcome sight of Tullamarine appears around 9am. It is good to be on home soil and hearing accents which we don't have to strain to understand. One such accent is my sister who has kindly offered to pick us up. Now we know we really are home.

2016 European Adventure

marfee7 — Sun, 5 Jun 2016 00:52:00 GMT

Monday May 30 2016

Nothing very exciting about preparations this year. Our mandatory renovate-a-room-just-before-we-leave was uncharacteristicly completed one week before our departure date. Still, we all make mistakes. So we awake at 6am with the intention of get the bus to the city about 7.45 and all goes well.

We are old hands at using MyKy tickets on the public transport system now as we have used the system once a year for the past five years. We are waiting for our regular user points to be credited but to date they have not appeared. But whereas in the past we had been warned by numerous signs to remember to swipe off, we now no longer have to. Presumably some Ghandi like civil disobedience action caused a rethink of the system, along with the numerous other rethinks the system has had.

The highlight of the trip is a double decker SkyBus ride where we sit on the upper deck. We get pleasure out of simple things.

At Tullamarine we are thrilled to find no queue at checkin. This proves to be because the flight is delayed 1 1/2 hours and we have not received the email. The delay is something to do with a malfunctioning engine. In such cases we are happy to wait until it does not malfunction. And that we did until 1:30, 2 hours past the scheduled departure time. However as we have a 5 hour wait in Singapore, a holdup in Melbourne is of no consequence.

After a tolerable flight of 7 1/2 hours we have to fly in a holding pattern for another 20 minutes and finally land at 7.30pm local time.

We have to check in to Air France in Singapore and the non existent queue in Melbourne is matched by a short queue of 20 or so people here. The problem is that the short queue takes 40 minutes to clear!! Finally we are on our way........ to another wait until our flight at 11.40pm.

While waiting we visit the Singapore toilets which we are amused to see have rating panels on exit. Unfortunately there is no place to offer suggestions as I would like to suggest that they either remove the automatic flush devices or heat their flushing water. Perhaps the auto flush toilets and cold flush water help the residents to maintain an upright posture. The Singapore authorities are very practical on social issues.

On board we settle in and depart on time. Once again we enjoy the unique French Safety Briefing which is done in a typically French fashion with the messages imparted in a most entertaining way. This proves to be the most entertaining part of the 12 1/2 hour flight. We are thankful that we have short memories of how revolting 12 1/2 hours in an aeroplane is.

Tuesday May 31 2016

The flight arrives on time and we are in the terminal by 6.30am having slept minimally for the last 32 hours. We are operating largely on autopilot. Approaching boarder control, the length of the lines suggests that the 3 1/2 hours we have to get to Paris Gare du Nord for our train may start to get tight. A quick word with an official sees us scoot past the queue and we are clear within 5 minutes.

After collecting our bags and some euro cash we make our way to the station for the half hour trip to Paris Nord. Arriving with plenty of time to spare, we board our TGV for Calais Frethun and are soon whizzing through the French countryside in the quiet train.

At Calais we need to get another train to Beaurainville but the platform is deserted and the display does not show the platform. It transpires that like the TGV, RER local trains only declare the platform from which they will depart 15 minutes before departure.

The weather has been lousy since we landed and our time on the platform is cold and wet. Huddling in a shelter, we are pleased when the train arrives and we enjoy the 1 1/2 hour trip to Beaurainville.

The forecast for Beaurainville has shown 35 % chance of showers between 2pm and 5pm. Fortunately the skies remain clear during our 20 minute walk to The Long House where the van is garaged and we arrive at 2pm, 38 hours since we left our home in Melbourne. Just a couple of hours longer and we can sleep....

The motorhome starts easily although the alternator light will not extinguish. Hope that won't be a problem. By 3.15 we have washed a bit of dust off and straightened inside ready to leave. We are on the road by 3.30 and head straight for Aldi to buy a few provisions. Another quick stop ar Carrfours for diesel and we are ready to head toward Houplines, about 1.5 hours away. Fortunately the alternator light has extinguished so we are charging our batteries.

The drive to Houplines is fairly straightforward with a little rain along the way, although the last 20 km is a bit of a struggle. We need a camp site tonight as we don't have any gas so can't shower.

By 6.30 we are at our campsite and ready to shower and sleep. Our dinner consists of bread and cheese and a hot drink using the jug and mains power. Then a welcome shower and to bed....... for an 11 hour sleep; unknown for us in other circumstances.

Wednesday June 1 2016

We wake refreshed ready to start our adventures. It is amazing what a good sleep will do for befuddled brains.

A quick wash of the van and we are ready to leave. We want to travel to Aachen via a Lidl for some more provisioning which is a considerably easier task today now we are refreshed.

In Belgium we know we can get gas easily so when we see a service station we pull in. Connecting up the nozzle, I press the Green Button but nothing happens. I check the nozzle and repeat. Five times I repeat. After that I walk to the cashier to say I am having problems. Prepay is the answer. Either cash or card. I have neither on me so return to the pump and insert a card. Now when I press the Green Button the pump goes to zero. And stays there. I press again and it does the same. Again I return to the cashier. Perhaps the card was not accepted. I give 50 euro and will come back for the change. I press the Green Button and the same thing happens. This is getting tiresome. Then I have a thought. Maybe I have to keep holding the Green Button. Voila! Gas! After 28 litres the pump stops automatically and I go to get my change. But has the amount also been charged to the card? No one knows or cares so perhaps I shouldn't also.

It is past lunch time so we have some bagette, ham, cheese and rocket rolls in a parking place before continuing.

At Aachen, the GPS coordinate we have for the camp site at we are intending staying lands us no where near a campsite. However we do see a caravan with a heart on it. Perhaps we will move on.

After looking around the area we decide to stay in a parking bay off a track and near a golf course. At Aldi yesterday we had seen a showerhead which looked like it might fit the extendable hose in our bathroom. It did fit with the minor problem that it is so big that it nearly obscures the basin. Nevertheless, it gives a beautiful spray of water; far better than the narrow one which issues from the old shower head. We are looking forward to trying it.

However as I turn on the hot water system there is silence. It is not working. When we bought the van, the hot water did not work because the 12 volt supply was not connected. Maybe there is a loose wire. I pull out the bottom of the wardrobe and try to remove the cover. However the circuit board comes out instead. Refitting it I try again but without success. There is an electrical fault and it is now too dark to pull out the electrical box which is a veritable can of worms.

I have also forgotten to light the fridge but when I try, that also does not work. So we are without hot water and cold refrigeration. A problem for tomorrow. We will go to bed without showering. Glad we showered last night.

Thursday June 2 2016

Rain rain rain and more rain overnight but by morning the rain has stopped and there is the odd patch of clear sky.

First job is to pull out the control box. A bit of reallocation of wires and the fridge is working but the hot water service is not. I start pulling out the cabin heater to get to the hot water heater but still can see no fault. Perhaps a walk will give me new inspiration.

With the golf course on one side and pastures on the other, our walk is very enjoyable. In some areas red poppies dot the pasture. The humidity is high because of the rain and the temperature pleasant. Despite overcast skies since we landed in France, perhaps it was worth leaving Melbourne's cold behind.

Returning to the van, a bit more fiddling proves fruitless so we decide to drive the 1.5 hours to Bonn where we are to visit Felix and his parents. They are sure to be pleased when we turn up one day early. Hopefully they can help us find a service centre who can diagnose the fault.

They are surprised to see us. Mechtilde says she has not cleaned the house. All the better we say. We like to be low impact. After greetings and afternoon tea, we consult the net for a Truma dealer. There is one 40 minutes away but I am reluctant to admit defeat. More fiddling and the day disappears. Felix and two year old Ari are due Friday night.

We have an enjoyable evening before an early bed. This holidaying is very relaxing but somewhat tiring.

Friday June 3 2016

There is another dealer closer by and Ulrich speaks to him about the problem. Unfortunately he is busy with other heater problems and cannot look at it before Tuesday. Perhaps if I remove the unit we can take it to him to quickly look at. While I remove and disassemble the unit, Rosemary travels on the light rail with Mechtilde to a fruit shop a few stops away.

The unit is now apart. But what is this! Two contacts below the circuit board which I had not previously seen. Inspecting the board, the device into which they plug is now evident. Could it be that the board was not seating correctly? Highly likely. So the next hour is spent reinstalling the heater. Now for the test........ it works! That is the good news. The bad news is that it could easily have been fixed two days ago! Rosemary and Mechtilde return, I am able to greet them with the good news but there is another hour to reinstall the cabin heater.Finally everything works. Later there is one more problem with the fridge not working because the van has been parked on an angle but that is fixed by moving the van. Let the holiday begin, albeit a few days later than we planned.

With joy in our hearts (mainly mine) Rosemary, Ulrich and I go walking by the Rhein, about one kilometer away. The water is flowing very quickly due to all the recent rain. Cargo barges battle the current heading upstream while those proceeding downstream career at high speed. Their slow speed with respect to the water makes steering imprecise. If the flow increases much more they will close the river to downstream traffic due to the problem of poor steering.

We walk perhaps two kilometers along the bank until we reach an old cement works which has become the focal point of a development called Bonne-Bogen, Bogen referring to the bend in the river at that point. There is a hotel which won architectural awards some years ago but which does not have much character. Many other buildings of eclectic design are under construction. As we walk back there is a light shower. Ulrich had brought his umbrella on the assumption that it would not rain if he had it but would if he didn't. The strategy is partially effective because the light shower is followed by a downpour ten minutes after we get back. The 5 oclock downpour has been a highlight each day for the past week. Across France and Germany there have been severe floods so we get off lightly with one downpour per day.

Mechtilde makes a delicious dinner of quiche which we enjoy before the arrival of Felix and Ari about 8.30pm. Ari is very tired and is put to bed quickly. We spend the rest of the evening chatting and catching up on news. Unfortunately Kathrin, Felix's wife, has been unable to join us as she is behind in writing her thesis for her doctorate so a quite weekend may allow her to catch up.

Saturday June 4 2016

After breakfast Felix, Ari, Rosemary and I get the light rail into Bonn. It is fast and quiet transport, the only downside being that the light rail stops before Bonn because there are works going on over the bridge. Instead we walk to the bridge and across it. The streets are narrow and lined with quaint cottages and shops some dating back to 1400s. Once again the history which surrounds us is so foreign to us, coming, as we do, from a country with only a few hundred years of European history.

We stop for some coffee and cake near what remains of the gates to the walled city. Felix thinks the structure dates back to 12th century. As Felix wants to be back by 12 we make our way to another light rail station which is underground, the tunnel exiting after a kilometer or two. The population of Bonn is around 300,000 but the infrastructure is very impressive and befitting a much larger city; perhaps because it was the capital after the Second World War until the mid 1990s when the capital reverted to Berlin after reunification of East and West.

We have to change trains twice but the wait is only a few minutes between trains. Back at Oberkassel, where Mechtilde and Ulrich's house is located, we walk the 200 metres to the house where there is a scrumptious lunch awaiting.

The afternoon is a lazy one for us. Felix needs to visit some friends while in Oberkassel and Mechtilde is attending a 20 year reunion for which class she was the teacher.

On Felix's return we have dinner and fairly early night.

Sunday June 5 2016

Felix has suggested we visit the Drachenfelsbahn. There is a ruins of a castle at the highest point in these parts, about 400 metres above sea level, and there is a railway which takes passengers to the top should they not wish the steep walk. We don't. The train uses a geared drive on a central rack. The area was very popular in the early 1900s with tourists perhaps because there is a legend that a dragon was slayed by some dude who then covered himself in its blood thereby attaining invincability. Your standard myth stuff. But a leaf fell on his middle back thus leaving an area of vulnerability. Well he had a tiff with his wife who knew about the patch and the bitch dobbed him to some other dude who slayed him. Still, having invincible guys strutting their stuff does not make for happy communities so perhaps the bitch got it right. It could be that my understanding of the myth is somewhat imprecise but that is the gist.

The train ride is great. I would enjoy looking at the scenery more but for (a) a heavy mist which obscures the view and (b) a fascination with the enormous snoz which the train driver is sporting.

Once at the top we climb a very steep path to the castle where we enjoy more magnificent views into the mist. Admittedly we can see down to the Rhein where we watch boats on seeming collision courses ply the fast flowing river. Currently the river is very high and fast presumably due to the flooding prevailent upstream.

The downhill walk on the 20% grade is far less challenging than the uphill one would have been but, nevertheless, my calves get more of a workout than they are used to. Rosemary takes a significantly serpentine path to avoid upsetting her knee. Given the dragon myth, the serpentine path is probably very appropriate. As it happens, we pass a reptile zoo so others think it appropriate also. Arriving at the bottom where the cars are parked is welcome.

After a ten minute drive back, we enjoy sun in the back garden, something which has been notably absent this year. We have a delicious late lunch cooked by Ulrich before setting off for Offenburg around 5pm.

We had passed a Stellplatz or motorhome parking place on our trip to the dragon castle and we want to pass by there as we leave Oberkassel in case there is a waste dump point. Carrying a container full of toilet waste through a house to dump in the toilet is not what good house guests do.

We are given directions by Felix to get back to the Stellplatz but somewhere in the process we end up a mountain which was not the plan. Fortunately we had spotted an Obi store near the Stellplatz so we enter that into Thomasina and she dirfects us there..... where there is no dump point. But we need diesel which is near by so not all is lost.

Now we need to go back the way we came to cross the Rhein. Bridges are few and far between because the Rhine is so wide. The biggest Australian river I have seen would only be 1/3 the width of the Rhein. Only to be expected in the driest continent on earth. Australia, that is.

Of course we miss the turn on the roundabout but, quick as a flash, we realise our mistake and do a U turn 3 km down the wrong road. Perhaps a little discussion with Thomasina is in order. Soon we are responding to her every "Turn around you moron" and "If you don't take the next left I am giving up" and soon we are on the B9 toward Bingen.Our plan is to travel along the Rhine on what is probably the Romantic Road. On a previous trip we had found the Romantic Motorway but the Romantic Road had proved ellusive.

However the drive is very enjoyable and finally we stop at a campsite near "The Loreley".The ground is rather boggey from all the rain so whether our stay is one night remains to be verified....

Monday June 6 2016

There is a moment when we think we might be bogged but we keep moving leaving the merest hint of a canyon in the soft ground.

Continuing along the maybe Romantic Road we enjoy the sights of villages huggung the river bank with the occasional castle high overhead keeping watch. There is a lot of traffic on the river including long passenger boats. We contemplate whether such a cruise would be worth considering for a future trip but come to the conclusion that we are not ready for it yet. Maybe in 20 years.

After Bingen the road leaves the river and we are back on rather soulless roads, although the green countryside is pleasant.

As we approach lunch we need some bread so call in to Lidl. In Australia my sister calls us Mr and Mrs Aldi but here in Europe we have transmogrified to Mr and Mrs Lidl. That will teach Aldi not to have a loyalty program.

At Lidl Ro sees some rather fetching men's shorts. The weather is warming up and she is hot so she buys a size which she thinks will fit. After trying them on in the van she decides she wants a smaller size and sends me back to exchange them as she packs away the groceries. Not a good idea. I can't find the size she wants so I need to pass through the register with my original purchase. I try to explain that I don't need to return them but have already purchased them to a cashier with no English. My german is not up to the task. Another customer helps out and we eventually get the message over that nothing needs to happen so I walk out with a shrug of the cashier's shoulders which says "Why didn't you just leave without opening your mouth".

But that is not the end. Rosemary wants to check for herself. Round two. But this time on exiting I summon my best German to explain "My wife needed to see with her own eyes" The expression on the cashier's face I take as being impressed at my language skill until I later realise that I said "My wife needed to check with her own eggs". Perhaps her second expression was the same as her first.

When I was at school (ineffectually) learning German I corresponded with Ilse Regal in Bad Konig. Bad Konig is not too far away from where we are so, on a whim, we decide to drop in on Ilse and show her her photo from 1965. Admittedly, in the intervening 50 years she may have moved, died or otherwise not be at the address to which I sent letters. But, hay, what is the likelihood of that?

The trip to Bad Konig is about 1 1/2 hours and includes a ferry trip across the swollen Rhein. Waiting for the ferry a helpful German informs us we are stopped where the cars exiting the ferry need to drive. We assume he is knowledgable on such matters and reverse. It transpires that he is knowledgeable because he is the ferry skipper about to start his shift of work.

Watching the ferry cross the river is interesting. The current is so strong, the ferry just points upstream on an appropriate angle and the current provides the crossways motion. The engines prevent it moving downstream while it crabs its way across the river.

The trip to Bad Konig is pleasant through verdent green crops and low hills. Finally we pull up outside 50 Hohenstrasse. We ring the bell and note the name under the bell is not Regal. Perhaps she has married. But no; the lady who answers the door knows of no Ilse Regel and is less than friendly in saying so. Next door is a man who looks to be in his 70s. Maybe he knows of Isle. But no. It seems that my pen friend from 1965 is not to be found.

It is around 5.30 now so maybe we will continue on to Offenburg. There is a campsite which would suit us about half way so we will travel via that. It is near Mannheim but on arrival we cannot raise anyone so we abandon that and continue toward Offenburg. At least we know we can stay there, even if it is in an industrial yard.

By 7.30 we arrive. Ardie has closed up but the gate is open so we set up for the night. We have spent more nights here in this yard than anywhere else over our 5 years of travels so we know it well and feel secure.

Unexpectedly about 9pm he turns up because he forgot his work clothes and tomorrow is work clothes wash day. So we chat for 10 minutes before agreeing to meet tomorrow for lunch.

A bit of fiddling with the shower head has given us a nice spray for our showers so by 10 we have showered and are tucked up in our comfortable beds.

Tuesday June 7 2016

We are not up early! After a late breakfast we ride to the local charity shop where we are regulars, albit only once every year or two. We want a mug to replace one with a broken handle and Rosemary sees a few tee shirts which take her fancy. One for me has the word "kangaroo" on it so I feel right at home in it. Although I would never wear a tee shirt with "kangaroo" on it at home. Our mug proudly proclaims "Offenburg Square Dancing Club". Why that should end up in a charity shop is beyond me. Rosemary comes away with a cool tee shirt as the weather is heating up.

Ardie wants to go to his usual place for lunch at 12.30 so we are back by then. We have eaten there four or five times over the 5 years we have known him. Usually his brother joins us.

After lunch we mooch about not least because I have upset my back. In the 5 years we have been visited Europe on a yearly basis, I have been fortunate enough not to require a chiropractor which I do on occasion at home. This year I have struck out. Although it may correct itself, the odds are against it. I locate 5 chiropractors but don't know which to choose. Finally Ardie makes an appointment for me for 10.15 tomorrow.

Ardie has a dentist's appointment after which he will return and the three of us and his wife ,Anna, will go to dinner. Our main purpose for visiting him this year is to convince Anna to come and visit us in Australia. Although Ardie wants to, Anna is a home body and, for some obscure reason,does not really want to travel in a cramped cylinder for 26 hours to Australia. Still it takes all sorts. I can think of nothing better, except, perhaps, hitting my head against a concrete wall.

Over a typical German dinner we encourage Anna to move out of her comfort zone. While we are there we feel we are making progress but that may evaporate when we leave. So we get her mobile number and we will tempt her with photographs of Melbourne via Whattapp over the coming months when we return home.

After dinner we return to their home for coffee/tea and some photos of Central Australia.

Wednesday June 8 2016

I need to be at the chiropractor by 10.15. As we are low on cash and they may not take cards, I cycle via a cash dispenser which Thomasina haughtily proclaims is where it actually is not. Backtracking a few hundred meters I withdraw cash at Kaufland, a major supermarket chain.

Following the withdrawal I cycle to the chiropractor and announce my presence. I am directed to a waiting room then soon to an office where I meet the chiropractor. He wants to take Xrays so he can see my back before manipulation. A nice German girl provides me with a rather fetching lead pouch with instructions on where it should be placed. I now understand how a bullock or rhino or similar large male animal feels. But at least I am not now sterile as a result of a poorly planned lift. There must be some advantage to that. After the Xray, the chiropractor does the usual half nelson with which I am familiar but rather more gently than does my chiropractor at home. Hopefully the gentle approach fixes the problem. I leave 100 euro poorer but more comfortable.

On my return, we get ready to leave and bid Ardie farewell until we see him in Melbourne, hopefully.

Our next port of call is Berne in Switzerland. The non motorway route is 1 hour 50 minutes longer than the motorway route so we adopt the shorter way partially in deference to my back which is still tender. Most of trip is driven in heavy rain with wipers on full speed. As we near the boarder, we purchase a vignette for the roads in Switzerland for 40 euro. We only need it for a few days but the vignette lasts until January 2017.

When we hit Switzerland we see what our 40 euros has purchased; traffic jams for kilometers on end! Eventually we quit the tollways for the faster non tollways. By 7pm we are at our campsite but, as is often the case, it is not where the GPS coordinates say it will be. By the time we find it, the reception is closed so we set up outside by a picturesque river. Well, downstream is picturesque but the cement works opposite isn't. Also the rail bridge interrupts the tranquility on a regular basis which is a pity. Still, we will cope.

After a few trains roar past we decide perhaps we won't cope so instead move further upstream where it is quieter.

Thursday June 9 2016

As we go to bed, the rain is steady and, though it presumably stops during the night, greets us again on waking. The rain stops long enough for us to go for a walk (or me a hobble) beside the crystal clear water which connects Lak de Neuchatel with Lak Bien/Bienne .On our return the camp reception is open but the weather forecast for the next few days is uninspiring. Perhaps we will seek some sunshine further south.

Setting Thomasina for Krk in Croatia, we backtrack 20 or 30 kilometers until we are on a motorway. Traffic today is not heavy but the rain is. The only respite we get is in the numerous long tunnels through which we pass.

Unfortunately the soft approach with my back has not been as effective as the more forceful treatment I get back home so every hour or two I need to lie down to get rid of a persistent ache. It is better than yesterday and hopefully tomorrow it will be right.

Despite the rain and the dashing along the motorway, the scenery in Switzerland is spectacular. Towns huddle on the steep mountain sides and in the valleys below. High on the peaks there is still snow but it is melting and cascading down waterfalls high above us. Mist obscures other mountain peaks, hanging like stationary clouds of steam.

Although our longest marked tunnel is 9.5 km, as we near the Italian border, we pass through one which seems longer. It goes on and on and the outside of the windows start to fog up as the tunnel is warmer than the air inside the cabin. On exiting we drive down a long 1 in 5 grade toward Italy. Glad we are going down and not up.

It is time to think about an overnight place to stop. There is a town near Como lake called Lugano where we might find a waterfront stop so we leave the motorway and head down a steep serpentine and increasingly narrow road to a delightful waterfront village. Perhaps bigger than a village and with a lot of traffic. Although it is a lovely vista across the water, it is evident that there won't be anywhere to overnight.

Thomasina has been set to take us to Venice avoiding motorways so that we might find a suitable and picturesque route where there should be an overnight spot. Leaving Lugano the road hugs the cliff and rises steadily before snaking down again toward the water. There is a carpark where we stop for a break and where cars bank up, clearing periodically before banking up again. When we join the throng, in a kilometer we pass through two border posts, Switzerland and Italy, where armed officers waive everyone through without checking anything.

As we follow the path prescribed, soon 'path' becomes an appropriate description. There is insufficient room for two vehicles and seeing around the next corner is impossible. Passing through tunnels we hope that nothing is coming because someone will have to reverse. However, we still see a bus negotiating the roads. With a car in front of it reversing for who knows how long until there is a widening where we fortunately are stopped. The car joins us and the bus continues on toward the next unsuspecting vehicle. Notwithstanding the presence of a bus, one local on a motorbike is disenchanted with us for some reason and passes us at breakneck speed performing a pantomime of abuse with flailing arms and gestures before disappearing with a roar. Perhaps these roads are what keep Italy such a devoutly religious country. A bit of omnicient guidance in these circumstances would be helpful. Especially since the speed limit is 90kph between 30kph zones!! Maybe that is Italian population control.

After another steep serpentine path down to the water where the van brakes are smelling extremely hot, the road runs out. We have forgotten that Thomasina warned of a ferry ride and this is it, leaving from the town of Menaggio. It is 20 euro for us to cross Como to Varenna, the next ferry arriving in 10 minutes.

The trip across the choppy lake is a highlight. The views of the banks are spectacular with outcrops of houses every few hundred meters. The trip lasts 15 minutes then we exit into a quaint village.

By now I am a bit frazzled. It is quite stressful wondering what is around the next corner. Programming Thomasina to Venice using motorways is the answer. However we must first take a ferry ride.......back to where we had come from! There don't seem to be any motorways on this side of Como.

Instead we continue and find a parking place which will do for the night. Tomorrow is a new day and we will sort it out then.

Friday June 10 2016

The day dawns clear sunny and bright. Ro walks a bit but my back is still not right so I stay inside lying on an ice pack. She reports back that the area is quite classy but that did not stop a guy in a car stopping and making what was probably a pass.

The roads are not so narrow here but we have programmed Thomasina to take us to Punta Sabblioni opposite Venice along ther Autostrade. We will spend a day or two there and revisit Venice.

After more wonderful scenery aaround Lake Como, we eventually enter a concrete jungle of roadways which leads to the Autostrada where we collect a ticket on entering the tollway. Not a fine; just a ticket which shows where we are entering the Autostrada.

The Autostrada goes all the way to Venice. It is very flat and rated at 130kph. Most of the time we can sit on 110 and once we hit 128kph! The comparison with German motorways is stark. The road pavement, while good, has many poor sections. But the major difference is the drivers! There are 4 lanes which are used as follows: the right most lane is largely empty, with trucks and the occasional car. The next lane in is mostly trucks which sometimes go into the third lane to pass other trucks. The outer lane is cars only and fairly solid. Once in an outer lane, motorists stay there so the average speed on the motorway seems to be around 115 kph.

Indicators are rarely used by cars and occasionally used by trucks. Vehicles sit on the white line, slightly over the white line or straddled between two lanes in order to slowly decide which lane they want. The motorways are as chaotic as German ones are ordered. I like the German ones.

Once off the Autostrade, which costs us 20 euro, we eventually we arrive at Venice. We know it is Venice because towering above the skyline are three or four huge passenger liners. The populations of those passenger liners will be squashed into Venice. That will be fun. But Venice is not where we wanted to be. It seems to get to Punta Sabbioni we need to take another ferry but there are indications that our vehicle is too high. Instead we opt to drive around the bay, another 50km.

Driving toward Punta Sabbioni, we are again reminded of the chaotic speed signs we have found in Italy. There is the speed limit shown on the GPS, the one shown on road signs and the speed at which motorists travel. All significantly different. At times we are passed impatiently by motorists who by their actions seem to say "Why are you doing 50 in a 50 zone? You do that in a 30 zone!"

Arriving at Punta Sabbioni by 6pm we decide we will wild camp for the night then stay at a camp site for two nights. We will have one day of resting then spend a day or two in Venice travelling there on the ferry, as we did in 2011.

Saturday June 11 2016

The evening is quite, interrupted only by cars rocking the van as they pass us at 80 in the 50 zone. But there is also the odd scooter with Mamma and Papa travelling at 20 kph. It is a land of contrasts.

After breakfast we drive toward the camp site at which we intend staying. However immediately before it is a motorhome park for 20 euro per night which has good toilets and wifi. That will do us.

Removing the bikes we cycle in the opposite direction of the ferry jetty. In 2011 we didn't cycle in that direction. The road leads to a beach and a lighthouse marking the entrance to the Venecian bay. By now it is getting quite warm so we return to the van to cool off. The park in which we stayed in 2011 now boasts a new swimmingpool. Although we are not in favour of boasting, we might like a swimmingpool so we investigate. It is indeed a lovely facility but for some strange reason it is closed between 12 and 3 which one would think is the best time for its use. We might consider moving tomorrow.

We are back in the van when long rolling claps of thunder peel from the skies. The light gray skies have turned black and soon there is a massive downpour. Inside we close every opening and hope that nothing leaks. There is the odd drop but everything remains dry.

After 20 or 30 minutes, the skies empty their contents for 20 minutes then the weather clears. It is still warm and now very humid.

Our plan is to buy a 24hour vaparetti pass which will allow us to use all the water transport. If we buy one this afternoon, we can spend the evening in Venice and the day tomorrow. If we purchase in the morning, by late afternoon we are likely to be too tired to stay on into the evening.

By 6pm we have cycled to the ferry port, bought two tickets and are waiting for the ferry which is due any moment.

It is a bone shaking old ferry. We want to have dinner on Burano which is 45 minutes away. As we approach we see the variety of pastel and bright colours which deliniate each house. There is yellow next to mauve, orange next to bottle green, some striped awnings surrounded by washing hanging out to dry. This is the trademark of Burano . It made us smile in 2011 and it does the same this time. Perhaps a little of the smile is being away from the ferry.

After strolling around the island which fortunately is not crowded we choose a restaurant where the tables, like most, are out in the street. A pleasant waitress takes our order for two lasagnas, a bottle of water and a quarter litre of wine. She brings out some small bread rolls in a basket but we are wary. We have heard stories of all sorts of extras being tacked on to the bill in Venice. When she returns, we comment that we don't require the bread. She says it is included but we can leave it if we wish. I do leave it because now I feel like a skin flint, which unfortunately is probably true anyway. Instead I fill any remaining void with a tiramisu.

We walk a little more around the island then head for the vaparetto jetty and take one to San Marko, the main island. It is now dark. The vaparetto finishes its service on the opposite side to San Marko Square which is what we want to see again. We will walk rather than take another vaparetto. However it is easy to get lost in Venice and we do. It takes questions of 5 or 6 locals to get to the square. Although the alleys of Venice are well populated, which gives a sense of safety, one cannot help thinking how unpleasant it would be in two or three hours when the alleys are deserted. Not to mention not being able to find the square.

Eventually we do and the activity is frenetic. Apart from avoiding vendors of roses, bags and lights which are slingshot high into the air, one has to weave one`s way through crowds of people. And this is night time when crowds are much less!

The last boat leaves for Punta Sabbioni at 11 but we are ready to leave 15 minutes earlier. The evening is coolish but not cold so we sit near the jetty until the boat comes. As it happens there is also one at 11.45 but we think the authorities say last boat is at 11 to allow for stragglers who then don't miss the really last boat.

Back at Punta, we cycle back to our van expecting a shower in the ammenities block. But the hot water is turned off at 23.00 and it is now 23.30 so the van again provides the shower. Which is now OK with our new shower head.

Sunday June 12 2016

After breakfast we prepare to leave the camp site. That includes dumping our wastes and refilling our water. We will get a mid morning ferry and be back before our tickets expire at 5.50pm. We have to leave the campsite so park on the other side of town and cycle to the jetty.

We will go to Murano, the famous glass making island, for lunch and to see a little glass blowing. The ferry trip is about 40 minutes at the stern of a rather quieter boat than yesterday's. We enjoy getting about by boat and the fact that there are no motorized vehicles on any of the islands.

The day is clear and warm. Visiting a glass blowing factory we are glad it is not hot. As we approach the door we are hearded in to the blowing area by an insistent spruiker who squashes us into an area to see the master glass blower very capably make a vase and a fish.

After the demonstration, the way in is barred by the spruiker so we must go through the shop; which action is quite understandable; the audience constitutes their customers.

Nothing takes our fancy so we exit and walk along a canal looking for something to eat. A small unassuming cafe has some sandwiches which it will toast and we can have them with coffee outside on tables by the canal. As we eat, a few people pass but there are not the hoards one finds on San Marco, which suits us. We neither want to see nor be seen.

As there is another ferry jetty on the other side of the canal, we can cross a couple of bridges to get a return ferry. Along the way there are numerous glass ware shops to look in, each with a different slant on the craft.

It is a half hour ride back to San Marco. The ferry stops at the same jetty the one last night did but does not terminate there. This time we remain aboard and are delivered to San Marco square rather than having to walk.

As we walk back to the square we are struck by the difference in ambience of the area between day and night. However the most apparent difference are the hoards of people. We are nearly shoulder to shoulder in the square.

The queues to the Doge's Palace are long as usual and we don't want to wait. Instead we walk around the square and along a few alleyways before deciding we are happy to return to Punta Sabbioni and head for Croatia. There is a ferry in 16 minutes and it is a non rattley one. The ferry is comfortable and quite fast. The disadvantage is that we struggle to remain awake. Within 30 minutes, we disembark and ride back to the van. If is around 5.30. After a hot drink we say farewell to Venice.

As Punta Sabbioni is at the end of a narrow peninsula, there is only one road out. It is crawling. For 20 minutes we inch our way along until finally the jam continues to the left and our path goes to the right.

The drive is along non motorways and we see green countryside and small villages. By 8pm we are ready to stop for the night but places are few and far between. Eventually we settle on a carpark outside a group of shops.

Monday June 13 2016

We have been looking for a dish washing brush head; the type with a handle which can be filled with dishwashing detergent. It is very handy in the van but the one we have needs a head replacement. Also, the adaptor for filling the gas tank in Italy and Croatia is different from that in France and Germany so I want to get one for Italy. Unfortunately we get neither but do get some silver spray paint and a wire brush. If we can't wash the dishes, at least we can repaint the wheels. Perhaps the connection is less direct than that.

It is our intention to relax in Croatia for five days until we get our boat on Saturday week. Although it is only 200 km, the roads in Croatia are not as good and we have a few deviations along the way to try to get the gas adaptor. We don't really believe the gas indicator so need to keep the tank full. If we are lacking an adaptor, that may make filling difficult if the filling station does not have an adaptor and most don't. In 2011 we spent many hours trying to get the tank filled in these parts.

There is a camping shop in Trieste so we set that as a way point on our trip out of Italy. Before we get there, Rosemary sees a garage with gas and suggests we call in. I am sure they will not have an adaptor but stop to humour her. Ten minutes later we leave with a full tank of gas.

Now we can set our sights on Rovinj on the west coast of Croatia where there is the biggest camping centre in all of Croatia. We have accepted toll roads on our path so are soon lead onto an Autostrada...... for 10 kilometers.

Once in Slovenia we remain on tollways but never seem to be tolled. Maybe we were supposed to buy a vignette. At the boarder we have to provide passports at the Slovenian boarder where the officer spends an inordinate time inspecting mine but eventually stamps our passports and waves us on. The Croatian officer just stamps and waves.

Once in Croatia, the roads become narrower, steeper and less well maintained. By 2pm we are at the biggest camping store in Croatia. Presumably the others are set up in caravans. They don't have an adaptor.

There is a large camp nearby which fronts onto the Adriatic where we will stay for a day or two. At reception we are invited to drive into the camp and choose a site. This proves to be quite a drive. The camp has 2.5 km of beach front with places all along plus some more. Eventually we find one which is away from the throng, nice and green and overlooking a bay. Rather than driving back, I ride by bike back to reception probably 1.5 km away. They had mentioned they would need a passport but somehow "a passport" means "both passports". We can take the other one up there later. Now to try to find Ro and the van!

The weather is pleasantly warm with a warm breeze. I go exploring on my bike to find the pool where I have a quick dip before returning to the van. Later we both go for a sea swim near the pool. As we have found before, there are fresh water showers near the sea which we appreciate to remove sea salt.

The camp is very quiet and we enjoy a peaceful night's sleep.

Tuesday June 14 2016

Today will be a day of relaxation. The morning is sunny with slight cloud gradually covering the sky.

We do a bit of cycling around the site. With 2.5 km of beach front, we get a reasonable workout after too many days of sitting in the van getting here. The beach front does not quite compare with Australian beaches. The shores to the sea are either rock or large pebbles; no sand.

We need to leave by 12 to avoid paying another night but 12 comes and goes because we like the area. We might leave tomorrow.

Part of the afternoon is spent fixing the wheels on the bag which fell of in Beaurainville. It is only a 5 minute job but takes 1 1/2 hours. Fairly stamdard stuff.

Early afternoon there is a brief shower but the temperature remains pleasant. By late afternoon the rain is more concentrated but stops again then overnight there is more.

Wednesday June 15 2016

The rain has gone and the sky is brilliant blue. We relax reading and walking then near 11 go to the pool for a swim. There is a water aerobics class at 11 so Ro joins in. After 10 minutes or so I think I should join her. But the class is probably over. I consider joining numerous times over the next 50 minutes but don't for the same reason.

More riding, walking, reading and the day gets late. There is a restaurant where we will eat tonight. About 6.30 we get a table and order the day's special of pork. Odd, because that was yesterday's special also. It is a large dinner and far more than we would usually eat. The rather large frames of other patrons suggest they are used to meals of this size.

Tomorrow is forecast to be another beautiful day so perhaps we will stay until Friday morning before heading toward Krk where we pick up a catamaran for a week starting Saturday.

Thursday June 16 2016

The day is windy,windy,windy and occasionally rainy; oh and a bit of sun too. We Melbournians feel right at home. But it is not at all cold, especially the warm breeze.

The strength of the wind will make our sailing a bit thrilling. We think that this wind is the Bora which is a North Easterly or Easterly and can blow for a few days with some quite high gusts. The wind forecast suggests that the wind will drop over the next few days. It remains to be seen. Some literature I saw some months ago said that further south is preferred for sailing as the winds are more predictable and constant.

I said I would join Ro in water aerobics today but the strength of the wind suggests that, even if the water is acceptable, the chill factor of the wind on a wet body may be less than pleasant. Fortunately I am spared as almost no one turns up then at 11, on cue, there is some lightening which puts an end to water sports.

So the day is spent reading, walking, cycling and vegging. Tomorrow we will move on to Krk via some shopping for the boat trip. As the other participants are all arriving by air Saturday afternoon, we have agreed to buy provisions for Saturday night and Sunday morning where we will be at anchor. On Sunday we expect to go into port at Cres to buy provisions for the week.

So by 10.30 we are in bed and are rocked, somewhat less than gently, by the strong winds.

Friday June 17 2016

A beautiful clear sky greets us with less wind than yesterday but none the less a stiff sailing breeze.

We need to fill with water and dump wastes before leaving by midday. Ro washers her hair while I do the dumping. Next time we will swap, but I haven't told her that yet. She is ready before I am so busies herself in the van while I fill with water. This takes a bit of time bacause the first outlet I connect the hose to has no water.

We exit the site at 12. As a final parting gesture, I revert to my Australian driving and cause confusion as I exit on the left. On the roads I have no problem but leaving parking areas etc I get confused. Mind you, that happens in Australia too.

Returning to Porec we visit Kaufland, Ledl and Plodine to buy groceries. We like to spread our custom between countries, although in that lot, Germany is overrepresented. Shopping in Croatia is rather difficult as words in Croatian bear no resemblance to English words. But washing our clothes with hand cleaner is unlikely to cause any problems.

We have 140km to cover to get to Punta where we pick up the catamaran. The trip includes toll roads. In most European countries toll roads are multi lane, multi carriageway affairs rated at high speed. In Croatia, a toll road may be a single carriageway single lane road with a 60kph speed limit. However the toll entrances and exits are constructions to behold. Had they spent the money on the roads rather than the toll booths, the roads may have been more like other European ones. We pay two tolls of 46 kuna or about AUD10 each. That is sure to help pay off the toll booths.

It would be nice to stop for a hot drink but there are no parking bays. There is the odd emergency pull off area and we utilize one of those. As we have our drink, the passing vehicles rock the van not unlike the winds of last night.However, the positioning of the emergency stopping point is such that rejoining the road is likely to create the emergency the pull off area is supposed to be addressing. Fortunately there is a long break between vehicles which allows us to slowely achieve the required speed.

At Punat, we pass the marina but make the mistake of turning down to road to Punat. This is a small village with small roads, limited parking and many cars. We abandon any hope of parking and retreat back to the marina. We find where we need to be tomorrow then go in search of an overnight stop. A camp seems most convenient. There is one a few kilometers away so we head there.

Krk and Croatia in general is very rocky. We climb up and down hills or , on the mainland, sometimes through them. The road to the camp is steep but we are eventually rewarded with a beautiful view and crystal clear water. That water will be our home for a week from tomorrow.

But for tonight we will just enjoy looking at it.

Saturday June 18 2016

We awake to the most beautiful fay we have had this year in Europe. The sea water is pleasant and we access it via a rocky shoreline. Initially I try walking without my Crocs (water shoes) but the rocks are too hard on my feet. After donning my Crocs, I am glad I did because there are sea urchins galore. You don't want to traad on a sea urchin!

The water gets deep quickly so the urchins are not a problem. The water is crystal clear and the salinity, though not very high, gives added bouyancy which I appreciate as I sink in fresh water.

After breakfast we prepare to leave. We are due at the marine aboutb 1pm but need to find a supermarket first. Thomasina takes us to a small somewhat less than super market in Punat but we decide that it will not have what we need which is mainly salmon for tonight's dinner. on board.

Krk town on Krk island is only 10 km away and they are sure to have larger supermarkets. We find Konzum easily. There are some salmon pieces hidden at the back of the freezer so we purchase them and are off to the marine.

Getgting into the marina requires some linguistic skills. A bit of English and a bit of German, as Germans are the most prevalent visitors Croatia, gets us into the marina. But parking will cost 200 kuna or AUD 40 per day!! $280 for parking seems exhorbitant. Rosemary's task becomes to find a cheaper alternative.

While I find the charter office, Ro explores a hotel over the road which has a parking area. We can park there for 60 kuna per day and it is closer although we learn later that the same family owns the marina and hotel.

Miki in the office speaks good English so we start filling in forms for collision waiver and dinghy loss waiver and tourist tax and security deposit. But when it comes to payment, none of our cards will work. The error code is unknown. The machine is reset but it still does not work. Hopefully someone else in the party has a card which will work.

We load our food and clothes and electronic gizzmos on board. There are more electronic gizzmos than food or clothes. We have a check list so start going through that. Eventually a charter rep comes aboard to go through various aspects of the boat. There is quite a bit to absorb and the boat is new to the charter company so there is quite a bit left for us to discover.

The rest of the party arrives 5 and we are still going through things when they board. But by 6.30 we are underway to an anchorage about 30 minutes away.

At the anchorage the depth is a bit worrying. We have a draft of 1.5 metre and at times the water depth is 2 metre. We creep along hoping not to damage the props half an hour after taking charge.

There is a number of other boats anchored and their draft is at least the same as ours so we drop anchor and Rosemary prepares dinner. The salmon is not as nice as we are used to but the dinner is delicious none the less.

We turn in for our first night aboard about 10 and have a quiet night's sleep.

Sunday June 19 2016

Our plan is to reach Cres town on Cres island by this afternoon to buy provisions but by late morning it is evident we will not make it. Instead we head toward Malinska town on Krk island which is near the top of Cres island.

Arriving about 1 pm there is a marina with a double berth but no one to ask if we can moor. We tie up, stern first. The motor in each hull allow the boat provides great manoeuverability once one gets coordination of which motor to drive forward and which to drive in reverse. My dislexia does not help in that but all goes well.

A tourist booth directs us to a supermarket which is closed. However there is a Konzum supermarket about 400 meters away; up a steep hill. When we arrive, the door with Konzum is firmly locked. A chat with another tourist booth informs us that it is underground and is open.

After fiddling about we end up leaving about 3. With a following wind the main and jib can be hoisted. We are still learning the ropes literally so our sails are not things of seamanship beauty. As we sail across the top of Cres island, the wind is quite strong so the main sail is kept at about 2/3 up the mast. Despite this we make up to 9 knots which is 1 1/2 times faster than the engines will provide. There is a clear definition between those who are loving the condition and those who are not.

Finally we round the top of Cres and the chop decreases although the wind continues. Finding a sheltered moring place is difficult. The area is very mountainous and the water gets deep quickly. We need to find an area which is shallow enough to allow anchoring with a 5:1 scope meaning the chain length needs to be 5 times the water depth, but with that length of chain we need enough clearance from the shore if the wind changes direction. Eventually we find an inlet where the wind is around 6 knots. It is 9 metres deep so we pay out the full 40 metres of chain and set the anchor. As the wind is still strong in ghusts. We drop a second anchor which has a shorter chain.

Throughout the night the wind blows, often at far more than 6 knots. Four or five times during the night , following loud thumps caused by we don't know what, we emerge from our cabins to see if we are still where we were. Determining if a boat is dragging anchor is difficult at the best of times but more so at night in a strong wind. Despite the fact that the chosen harbour is supposed to be safe from the current wind direction, the wind does not seem to know that.

By the morning we are not on the rocks and the wind has abated. We have breakfast then raise the anchors. The second anchor chain has wrapped itself around the main anchor but when we pull it in, ther is no anchor. The shackle has broken through what are obviously corrosion lines.

Monday June 20 2016

Although there is minimal wind, we sail down the coast of Cres in far more pleasant conditions than yesterday.

By lunch time we are near a port where some of the party would like to have lunch. We moor stern first and once again there is no one to ask if we can stay. Some Germans who have a boat on land on which they are working say we can stay there but will have to pay if we stay overnight. Later in the day we are approached by a marina employee who says we must visit reception to pay for our stay. Although we have only been here two hours we must pay for a half day stay, 46 euro, or 92 euro to stay overnight. The consensus is that we want to continue on but there is discussion as to whether we can negotiate. One of our party goes to negotiate and returns with the news we don't have to pay. Later we learn that the negotiation was less than civil.

The tiny town of Valun looks like a well sheltered port so we head there.. The edges of the bay are too steep to allow us to drop anchor with sufficient scope but there is an old slightly rusty bouy which our information book implies we can tie to. Having attached to the bouy, this seems the perfect opportunity to use the dinghy and 2 stroke outboard to go across to the town. We lower the dinghy and fit the motor. It starts easily and we ferry two about 200 meters to the town. The motor is over reving and spluttering as two strokes do but we get two more to the shore. But, as is to be expected with a two stroke, on the third trip it stops and refuses to start. We can paddle back to the boat but paddling back to pick up the 4 on the shore does not seem a good idea.

We have been using walkie talkies to communicate but , naturally, both are on board this time. We have telephones, but no one hears them ring. The decision of those on board is to take the mothership over to pick them up.

This we do and as we reverse into a berth, there is a guy who sprukes an overnight stay for 180 kuna. Somehow I understand that those ashore have organised this so accept the offer. The 180 manages to get to 240 kuna including electricity or AUD 50. The 60 kuna for electricity is wasted because the main advantage, hot showers, is invalidated because the HWS immersion heater does not work.

Making the most of the situation, weenjoy walking around the town, having a drink at a bar and, most importantly, having a quiet night's sleep securely tied to the wharf.

Tuesday June 21 2016

Some have breakfast ashor before we set off again. We do a bit of sailing but often find that the winds disappear once the sails are up. The southern part of Croatia is more highly regarded by sailers due to the more predictable winds. We now understand why that is.

Ther is a nice cove with a very pebbly beach where we anchor for lunch. The wind is quite gentle now so we swim to the shore and later have lunch on board.

By mid afternoon the wind is picking up a little although the wind forecast for the area is only 5 to 8 knots including overnight.

The town of Martinscica has a well sheltered port so we will overnight there. We reverse into a berth and do some grocery shopping and another drink at a bar then decide we will anchor on the other side of the harbour.

There is an inlet with appropriate depth for us to drop anchore with a scope of 3:1 which should be OK for the light winds forecast. Some time later, a small motorized boat pulls along side and the occupant, a young Croat, says to us that there is some Bura tonight and where we are is not safe. We thank him and move to the other side of the bay which is shallower and more protected. Anchoring in 6 metre of water with 20 metre of chain we settle in for the night. By bed time the wind is still quiet as we had expected from the forecast.

However by 1.30 am the wind is howling and we are dragging anchor. A decision is made to move 200 metre further up the coast where we drop the full 45 metre. The sound of the anchor chain wakes everyone on board and probably most people in Martinscica.

By morning we are still in the same place, profusely thanking our absent saviour. That he should have taken the trouble to come across the bay to warn us may have been the difference between us continuing our voyage and us ending up on the rocks. It is a sobering thought.

Wednesday June 22 2016

There is quite a deal of water to cover between here and Punat where we want to be by Friday evening. There are two passageways like mini Suez Canals which can shorten the trip. Both have bridges which open twice per day; 9am and 5 pm. The first is quite close but will involve 7 or 8 hours wait. The second is 4 or 5 hours sailing or motoring and we can stay overnight in the port then get the 9am opening.

We leave early and eat breakfast while motoring. Although the wind was blowing a gale during the night, now it is fairly quiet and it is nearly head on which would require a lot of tacking.

A little later the wind picks up enough to sail which allows us to have a quiet lunch on the move. We have reached the conclusion that the winds here are so variable because of the high mountainous but narrow islands. And it seams the forecasters have as much trouble as we do.

By mid afternoon we have reached the second bridge which is at Marlie Losinj. We motor to the bridge to inspect the width of the channel. It is very narrow. Continuing on to the finger jetty in toward the town we are greeted as usual by a guy with a money pouch spruiking the mooring. We explain that we only want to saty if we can get through the bridge tomorrow. The guy does not really want to scare us away by saying we won't fit but he reluctantly volunteers that he has necer seen a cat go through. Our boat is 7.3 metres and it says in the in formation book that the channel is 8 metres. Bit tight. We enquire as to the cost to moor. 500 kuna. Preposterous!! We will continue.

We have to return up the harbour to exit back to the open sea then a short distance down the coast there is a maring. It is near Marlie Losinj but could not be as expensive.

We moor stern first with a lot of tugging on lines and when finally tied up ask the omnipresent bag man the cost to moor. 800 kuna!!!! So we continue further to where we see there is a deep bay with floating bouys.

Entering the harbour we are entranced. Unfortunately we are not the only ones. All the boats have stern lines going to the shore but we don't have anything long enough. We can't drop anchor or we will drift into other boats.

After some moving about looking for an anchor point we decide to grab a bouy. It is between two boats and there is a breeze on out port side. As we reverse between the boats, the brreeze picks up and there is a much smaller boat onto whom we are drifting. It is then that we discover that the land lines the other boats have out is attached to the bouy. It is lifted in preparation for attachemnt to the stern – right into the port propeller!

Someone has to untangle it and that someone is me. Fortunately the line is a heavy one so has only wrapped around two or three times. It is easily untangled but there are differences of opinion on how we should complete the mooring. Eventually we are secourly tied with the help of the owner of the boat we were threatening. We offer them two cans of beer but they will only accept one. No harm has been done so all are happy. Another notch on the belt. Better there than on the boat.

We have a scrumptious dinner prepared by Allan and turn in about 11 after our excitement.

Thursday June 23 2016

We have a lovely relaxed sleep. It seems we are destined to have one relaxed night followed by one panicky one thanks to the unpredictable Bura. But this morning it is calm as a millpond.

The Germans with whose boat we were sparring while mooring have already left before 7am. We assume it is so they are as far away from us as they can be. But soon the reason becomes apparent. A boat draws up and offers fruit, bread apple strudel etc which we buy at what turn out to be exorbitant prices. We should know by now to ask the price before taking the goods. But he also wants mooring fees. That is why our German friends are now absent.

After breakfast we motor until lunch time then stop for a swim. The dinghy outboard has been a thorn in my side and I want it working before we leave. I have freed the mixture screw so it now moves easily. I don't know where it should be bit some adjustment may help. The motor performs poorly again until Allan gets it to run smoothly for ten minutes or so.

As we continue after our lunch and swim, there is a bit of breeze so we hoist the sails. Generally we find that hoisting the sales stops the wind but this time some remains. We have had some trouble raising the mainsail to full height but this time it gets to within 500mm of top.

The sailing is pleasant but lacking any adrenalin rush. Eventually when we are sick of little progress we take in the jib and try to lower the mainsail. It won't move. We use the winch on various lines, without wishing to break the mainsail. After 10 minutes of futile work, the binoculars reveal that the top pulley has allowed the line which raises the mainsail to twist preventing the sail from lowering. The problem is, the sail is nearly fully raised and motoring with it up we are subject to the variable winds.

On taking over the boat, one item which was noted was a bosun's chair. This allows a person to be hoisted to the top of the mast and that is what has to happen. The sea and wind are both a bit much to do it in the open sea so we motor close to the shore and drop anchor.. The lines on the boat are in excellent condition; except the hauling line we need to use. But it looks strong enough.

Next problem is getting my 85 kg safely up and down. The hand winches don't give enough purchase for an easy lift. The electric windlass is on the wrong side. The solution is to run the line around a manual windlass and across to the electric one.

After some preparation the lift begins. About 4 metres up the windlass overloads. The thermal breaker takes a moment or two to reset and the lift continues. It takes 4 resets to get to the top of the 12 metre mast. Correcting the problem only takes a minute but organising to let me down slowely takes a few very uncomfortable minutes as the harness is digging in to my abdomen.

Safely back on deck we lower the sail and vow that is the end of sailing. The next problem is where to stop for the night. There are no safe harbours as the one we had intende3d using, which is close by, is quite undatisfactory.

Instead we decide to head across open water to Rab. It is two hours of unfomfortable rolling sea before we eventually motor into Rab Harbour about 7.30pm.

The usual bagman is waiting. It is 811 kuna for the night but we are happy to pay for a safe and comfortable night.

Last time we loved Rab and it is the same this time. We walk over to the old town and have a drink before finding an open air restaurant. The night is the warmest we have had in Croatia and fortunately there is some breeze. The waitress is delightful and adds to our enjoyment of the ambience.

After dinner it is about 10pm. The others return to the boat but Ro and I walk around the town re enjoying the delights. It is an unexpected highlight because we did not expect to be here.

Friday June 24 2016

After a very warm night we wake early and go walking through the old town in the early morning. The town is stirring and cleaners are about. We have wondered how everything is so clean and now we know the answer. I say hello to a cleaner who speaks good English and compliment him on how clean the town looks. His initial demeanor suggests he is not often acknowledged and he is happy to receive the compliment. He says that once a week they use fire hoses to clean the alleyways. The effect is wonderful. Croatia is clean, safe and evocative.

We need to fill the boat with diesel before returning so filling here makes sence. If they have to add a few litres at an inflated price we will wear that. There is one boat filling but when he leaves we move along side. One more small problem. We cannot find the diesel cap opener. The pump attendant has a couple of tools, one of which removes the port filler. The tank takes 40 litre but the starboard cap is tight and we cannot remove it. There is a nautical supplies shop nearby but they have nothing. Eventually after paying for the fuel dispensed, we find a tool in the boat's toolbox which will remove the cap and we fill that tank.

We have been motoring on only one motor most of the time as this was recommended on a web site I read some months ago. We have used 77 litres for 40 engine hours which we think is very economical.

It is about 15 nautical miles back to Punat. We are required to sleep the last night in the marina so they can inspect the boat in the morning before we leave. I had negotiated returning the boat by 8am so we could stay at anchor for the night but the other members want to eat at a restaurant so we will head back there now.

On the way we stop for a swim and knock up lunch at a bay. On the hill is a giant sign in rock or something similar which simply says “Tito”, a throw back to when Tito was in charge of the then Yugoslavia.

By 4 pm we have reached Punat. Anchoring opposite the marina we swim and have drinks and nibbles, although I refrain from drinking until the boat is safely moored....... by which time there are no drinks left.

The others go for dinner at the restaurant while Ro and I enjoy the cool of the breeze and our last evening on the boat.

We get a good sleep with no sign of the Bura which would not have affected us here!

Saturday June 25 2016

The morning is spend emptying the boat and handing it back. There is a procedure whereby the checkout list is redone as a checkin to confirm that the boat is in the same condition as when we hired it. Apart from the lost anchor due to the faulty shackle, the boat is better. The oatboard works, the shower pump works, the mainsail pulley is fixed, albeit temporarily, and it is as clean or cleaner then when we got it. They ask us to identify where the anchor may be but when told it is on Cres think it is not worth their trouble to find despite out being able to give them good markers. In hind sight, we should have taken the GPS coordinates which unfortunately did not occur to us at the time.

By 10.30 we are ready to leave. We say our farewells to four of the eight. Allan and Janice are joining us for a week at Valalta so they are passengers in the back of Escargot de Wheels.

The trip to Valalta is about 2.5 hours. Watching the traffic streaming on to Krk makes us glad we are leaving and not arriving. However next week we will deliver Allan and Janice to the airport on Krk so the traffic may still be an issue.

Today is quite hot. The outside temperature is 32 degrees and the van does not have cooling although the flow through ventilation suffices. Nevertheless, when we arrive, a swim in the pool is very welcome. A bit later the water slide beckons. This was our saviour in 2011 when we were very close to moulten. Two slides then and we were on our way to solidity again. This time we are not as hot but the slide is just as much fun.

We stayed here in 2011 and it is huge. Up to 7000 people holiday here over the season. Allan and Janice have booked a cabin but campers can not reserve pitches. We checkin at reception then go to choose a site. We find one with shade near Allan and Janice's cabin and 100 metre from the pool.

Another couple who are friends of A & J have also arranged to visit and have a cabin next to them. They have been here a few days and have offered to have a barbeque using disposable barbeques.

We want to buy some wine to take with us so go to the camp shop to see what is available. In the shop we see people filling bottles with red or white wine. I ask the attendant if bottled wine is available. Somewhere the translation fails and we understand that we must supply the bottle for wine on tap. There are some bottles in the van but the store closes in 5 minutes. What to do? The answer is to reteieve a plastic bottle from the recyclables and wash that. Arriving back at the shop, the in door is locked but the out door periodically opens to allow the last customers out. We run in and the attendant allows us to fill the bottle. Later we realise that there is bottled wine available. Perhaps we will keep this wine for general cleaning and get a bottled wine tomorrow.

The meal is very nice but the remnants of the disposable barbeque provide a less than pleasant odour.

Around 10.30 pm, the others want to go to a bar but Ro and I are both feeling very tired. It has been an eventful week and maybe that has caught up. Although the night is very warm requiring no bedclothes, I am asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Ro tells me next morning she was not far behind.

Sunday June 26 2016

Another hot day has begun. After breakfast we return to the camp shop and find a more suitable wine. We will deliver that today.

Because the camp is so large, we generally ride everywhere on our bikes. This is especially helpful because as we re establish an internal map, some paths are quite circuitous. From the waterslide we can cycle along the foreshore where there is extensive natural rock paving. Riding further we arrive at the marina which is 100 meters from our camp site.

There are numerous beach fronts ranging from rocks to pebbles to sand. There don't seem to be any sea urchins which is a welcome relief. Maybe they are removed each season. The water near the marina is the crystal clear aqua colour we are used to but where the sand and pebbles are, the water is far less clear.

The day is spent leisurely reading and swimming. A very slow pace of life.

We have agreed to meet at 8pm to eat at a pizza restaurant. The menu is mostly pasta gnocchi and pizza with some salad starters. Unfortunately pasta and pizza do not suit Ro but there is a salmon salad. I have spaghetti bolognaise.

We wander back to the van around midnight with the intention of walking in the morning. Although the night is not as hot as last night, it is still pleasantly warm. Nice to be escaping Melbourne's winter.

Monday June 27 2016

Our walk does not eventuate due to a persistent foot complaint which has made walking difficult for Ro. We will go for a ride a bit later.

The day is hot and cloudless again. This reminds us of Melbourne summer days but more uniformly hot.

Our friends are going on a boat trip with a fish lunch on Thursday and we will join them. It is 190 kuna per person, AUD38, and the tickets are purchased in the reception area. Unfortunately the excursion desk is monopolised by a German couple trying to connect to the internet so I wait for 10 or more minutes before being served. Then I discover they only take cash and I am 10 kuna short. Out to the cash dispenser then back behind another customer who thankfully does not take long. The German couple are still there. Glad I don't have a boat to catch any time soon.

The remainder of the day is spent resting by Ro and watersliding and riding by me. This hectic pace of life is getting to me.

Come dinner time, our friends decide to go to Rovinj for dinner but we will eat at home . If Ro's foot remains tender in St Petersburg, only one week away, it will be very disappointing so we want to minimize walking now.

After dinner we go for a long bike ride as this does not worry her foot. We watch a magnificent sunset against which a large square rigged sailing boat is gently moving. On the way back there is a band playing so we listen to that for a while. The evening is cooler than the last two but still very pleasant.

We are back at our van by 10 and have a restfull sleep.

Tuesday June 28 2016

Yet another perfect day dawns. With the heat is a slight breeze and we have managed to park the van under some trees so it remains pleasant through out the day. We also have a small fan purchased a few years ago which helps with air movement at the hottest part of the day if we are inside.

It is another day full of doing nothing in particular. Not what we are used to. However my book which I did not read at all on the cat gets read. It is a Jeffry Deaver book and whenever I read one I think I will never read another. The plots are unlikely in the extreme and the technical accuracy is far removed from fact. Nevertheless I am reluctant to ditch them before their conclusions. There is a close parellel with James Bond films, after each of which I swear I will never look at another.

A few days ago we swam from the marina in crystal clear water. We go to the same point but it is rather more murky today. I had been looking at buying a diving mask but had refrained. This proved to be a wise decision on Ro's part because we discovered a mask and snorkel in the van. It is odd that the smaller the space, the more easily one can lose things or forget about them. Although I now have the mask, when I dive into the 3 metre deep water I drop it and it sinks immediately. Where is there a diving mask when you need one? Fortunately Ro can see it from the jetty and guides me to it.

Although there is little to see on the sea bed, there are plenty of fish with flecks of colour. I should have brought the snorkel!

For dinner we have been invited to Janice and Allan's cabin to consume over purchased food. We spend a convivial evening on the decking. Ro rides there although it is only 100 metres in order to save her foot. We want it better by next week when we fly to St Ps.

Wednesday June 29 2016

As usual the morning is a pleasant temperature. We cycle to the end of the property, perhaps 2 km from our van, then stop for a swim. There are numerous floating pontoons scattered along the shore. A small boat is cleaning bird droppings from overnight from each. The whole campsite is kept beautifully manicured and clean as we have come to expect in Croatia.

We swim out from there to some floating toys anchored in the bay. Around by the water slide is an anchored ice berg which is about 10 metres high. I climbed that in 2011 but have not done so this year. I must. Where we are now there are two floating trampolines joined by a 15 metre floating tube. The trampoline is fun but the tube is a bit challenging. Maybe in a day or two.

Returning to the van for breakfast, we prepare for another bruising day of relaxation. Some hand washing is in order, some water sliding, some reading, some eating and that is about it. Oh! And a trip to the camp grocery store. How could I forget that highlight?

Around 2, the others say they are going in to Pula . They have a 4 seater car so we need to take the van if we want to go. On balance we decide to stay. We think we will be back here in the future so we will look at Pula then.

Instead we cycle to one of the foreshores and go for a swim out to a pontoon. A little later we go to dinner on our bikes. The meals are inexpensive and tasty and we can sit outside in this perfect climate. Better still, there are no mozzies or flies, although some insect has caused a few itchy patches on Ro's arm.

Following dinner we cycle to the marina where we can sit and watch the sunset with the everchanging colours on the clouds. We will be sad to leave Saturday.

Thursday June 30 2016

Today we have booked for a Fish Picnic at AUD38 per head. This is a boat cruise out to an island where we will, unsurprisingly, have a lunch of fish.

But first we go for a ride and swim before breakfast. As we leave the van, we see our friends also going for a pre breakfast swim. Although we say we will join them, by the time we get towels and our bikes, they have disappeared and , despite a ride around the coast, we fail to find them. Later we find that they turned right at the marina and we turned left. Given that the coast is a few kilometers long, it is not surprising we did not find them. However, our swim is enjoyable.

The boat leaves at 11 and the six of us are booked in. We decide to go early to get a good position and are on the marina by 10.30. We are sufficiently early to be almost last on board so we squeeze in where we can.

The boat was built in 1915 and has been respored to a well kept and character filled vessel of, perhaps 15 metre length. The deck is mostly open with an awning covering 60 percent and the wheelhouse in the aft 1/4.

At 11 the boat leaves at a speed of 8 or 9 knots. The passengers are a friendly bunch and the friendliness is soon augmented by the traditional small cup of very alcoholic spirit. Not long after, beer is available from one of 3 or 4 kegs. The others hold wine and water. The beer is a very tasty drop which is brewed at Valalta in their small brewery.

We pass by Rovinj which was originally an island surrounded by a city wall. In the 17^th century the island was connected to the mainland leaving the city on a peninsula. The buildings are densly packed onto rocky land and present the usual picturesque scene. The major concession to modernity apart from power cables are the numerous satellite dishes which crowd the roofs.

Knowing what we know now, we could have brought the catamaran over here and probably not had the troublesom Bura winds but still had numerous towns and inlets to explore. Maybe next time.

By 12.30 we have reached the island, a rocky outcrop with green vegetation growing all over. The waters are as clear as any we have encountered and we can swim around the boat until lunch is ready.

The meal consists of a whole mackarel pan fried or grilled with potato salad a breadroll and red or white wine. There is also a pork steak following the fish all eaten on the rocks. We share our eating place with the ubiquitous sea gulls, which are 20% bigger than ours at home, and some gecko like reptiles with bright green backs. The geckos are not too timid and one almost climbs onto my hand but thinks better of the idea just before it is committed to the action. There is time for another lovely swim after lunch before we return.

By now, conviviality is firmly established with the wine barrels empty. One of the crew members plays piano accordian and sings together with the captain with great ghusto. By now most of the passengers are joining in. There is a group of Kiwis and together with our English friends we perform a rousing few choruses of Walzing Matilda, without accompaniment. It firmly establishes our Aussie credentials.

Back at Valalta, a few passengers disembark, including an extremely inebriated man who needs assistance to leave the boat. Those remaining continue the tour to the town of Lim, about 20 minutes away by sea.

Lim is a typical Croatian town which we would explore more thoroughily if Ro's foot were up to it. Instead, after a short walk, we join our friends at a waterside restaurant where they are having coffee and tea.

We were instructed to be abord by 4.30 for the return trip and, to the captain's delight, by 4.30 we are all aboard. The return trip is full of singing, clapping and laughing and we dock at the appointed time of 5 pm.

It has been an afternoon of fun, singing laughter and picturesque scenes. Another highlight.

Before returning to our van, we swim near the marina in water rather less clear than our lunch stop. After a rather full lunch, we won't be searching for a restaurant at which to eat tonight.

Friday July 1 2016

Our last full day in paradise! After an early morning dip, we have breakfast then slip seamlessly into our daily routine of doing nothing in particular.

The iceberg near the water slide beckons. Although I don't particularly want to climb it, I know that if I don't, I will wish I had. So instead of the prospect of wishing I had, I do it and wish I hadn't. There are handles on rope on th side of the 6 metre rubberised structure which a hand can grab but a foot can't. Thus it is arm work only. And my arms are not entirely up to the task. I struggle to the base camp which is 1.5 metres from the summit then decide that is enough. The water is 4 metres deep so I can dive in. Challenge met, I can now ignore the iceberg. Back to the water slide.

The rest of the day is spent by the sea reading and swimming. At 5 we go to a bar and have a Valalta beer for me and an icecream for Ro. Later in the evening we join A & J on their cabin decking for a fridge emptying ceremony before dinner at a restaurant where, again, we can enjoy the ubiquitous soccer.

Then bed by 11.

Saturday July 2 2016

We need to be on the road by 10am as we are taking Allan and Janice to Rejika airport on Krk. But there is time for a swim before breakfast.

There is the usual filling of water and dumping of wastes and by 9.45 we are ready to leave. However before we load the luggage I want to find the dump point to dump gray water. Ro stays at A & Js cabin. After 10 minutes driving around I admit defeat and look for the map which Ro has stored. After a further 5 minutes I admit defeat in finding the map, abandon the dumping and return to the cabin with a still full gray water tank. Such is life.

A & J must be at the airport by 2 for a 4pm flight. When we left Krk a week ago, the traffic jam was quite significant and discussions with the staff here suggest we can expect the same. Although the trip is predicted to be 1 hr 45 min, we will allow 2 1/2 hr.

Along the way we meet an unexpected traffic jam which inches forward for 30 minutes intil the cause is revealed: the tollways! The faster journey time for which we pay a toll is offset by the time we wait to pay the toll! Fortunately at Krk, the queue is short so we reach the airport by 12.30.

After dropping A & J, we had intended to travel to Lublijana to stay a day before going on to Milan. But we now have the opportunity to stay in this lovely climate on Krk, perhaps where we stayed before we boarded the cat. Because is 40 km back there we instead decide to head back to Solaris near Porec where we stayed two weeks ago. From there it is 480 km to Milan which we will cover Monday.

Returning to 40 km from where we were this morning aftder a 6 hour trip, we call by Lidl to re provision then settle in to a site not far from our last one but with a much better view.

The evening is as warm as any we have had but, being tired, we get an early night.

Sunday July 3 2016

We have internet access here which is now working this morning after an outage last night. We are just contemplating making some calls when Scot calls us. It is great to hear his voice and a bit of news. Ro gets rather homesick on hearing our loved ones but as the ice is broken (Melbourne's ice, not ours) we make some other calls. One to Jacinta and one to Alex and Katya.

The afternoon is spent swimming, riding and packing for St Petersburg. We are making do with one bag which needs to cater for hot, cold and indifferent weather. This week it is 30 in St P and next week will be 19 and rainy. Sounds rather like Melbourne. Part of the packing needs to include some formalish wear as we may go to the ballet. I guess green and yellow Oz thongs will be inappropriate.

Dinner is sausages from some weeks ago. Since adjusting the gas burner in the fridge, the plastic grill outside has melted but the freezer is solid ice. Life she is strange.

After dinner we entertain ourselves by experimenting with our phone translators. We have loaded offline files so we can use them in Russia without internet access. By setting my phone to translate Russian to English and Ro's to translate English to Russian, we can see whether our message is getting through. It is a bit hard to tell through our tears of laughter. Next week should be interesting in many respects.

Monday July 4 2016

Yet another beautiful day dawns. Unfortunately we cannot stay to enjoy it as we need to leave for Milan, which we do by 10.30.

On the way out we are flagged by a Slovenian man with an ageing van which will not start. I suspect the age of our van had something to do with his enlisting our aid. The starter solenoid clicks but nothing else happens. We put jumpers to our van bit still the solenoid just clicks. Checking the battery with the multimeter proves his battery is OK but I find the positive terminal is loose. Tightening it does not fix the problem so we leave unable to help. All this has been accomplished, or perhaps not accomplished, with no common language!

The trip is torturously slow until we reach the Italian autostrade where we cover the kms rather more quickly. But at a price. The tolls amount to 36 euro or AUD55 which we think is a lot.

Finally we are at Linate and after some hunting we locate our parking area. After some discussion with the people there , our 50 euro parking fee becomes 70 euro because the vehicle is over 5 metre. Oh well. It is still good compared with Punat marina's proposed charges.

We mention that our flight leaves tomorrow and we want to sleep in the van overnight. After some confusion, there are smiles all round and everything is fine. It should be a peaceful night but for the jets passing overhead and the slamming of doors as clients come and go.

Before setting up for a luxurious night, we want to see if we can get some more gas the fridge requires gas while we are away. The guage on the gas tank does not work and we are not sure how much is left.

Thomasina guides us to a petrol station which is closed then to another which is self serve....... but not gas. We get diesel and abandon the idea of getting gas. However returning to the parking place, somehow I manage to get into a Bus, Tram, taxi lane and it is one kilometer before we can exit it. Fortunately we don't need to pick up any passengers.

Back at the park, we settle in for the night. It is hot, hot, hot so no heated water is unnecessary for showers. A bit of gas saved. Overnight the temperature drops a bit so we get a reasonable night's sleep.

Tuesday July 5 2016

The alarm goes off at 5.45am and by 6.45 we are ready for the trip to the airport. It is only 5 or 6 minutes in an electric car. It may be our first ride in a totally electric car and we are impressed by its acceleration which its Italian driver demonstrates with ghusto without any request from us.

Linate is a regional airport and not very crowded. We check in without incident then wait for our flight at 9.05. At the gate lounge we are bussed to the waiting aircraft. The bus interior is quite grimy suggesting air quality leaves something to be desired.

We requested an exit seat and were fortunate enough to get one. However as we board the aircraft, we see the exit is overwing so maybe there is no more leg room then other rows. But we do get some extra space which is welcome.

We land at Amsterdam on time and marvel at the size of the airport. It is gargantuan and very busy. But it is not long before we are boarding for our next KLM flight to St P. Despite leaving late we make up time and land early shortly before 4 pm.

Passing through passport control, where the checks are more than just cursory, we pass out into the main hall where Masha and Alexi are holding a sign with our names on it. They both speak English well and we get along with them well immediately. We are staying with Dima and Marina, long time friends of Katya, and Masha is Marina's daughter.

The weather last week in StPs was 30 degrees but this week it is expected to be rainy and stormy every day. They are correct today.

The drive to Dima and Marina's flat is about 1 hour which passes quickly with animated discussion. The driving is fast and free. I think I am glad I am not driving here. Add to this the fact that road signs mean little to us in Russian and the belief strengthens.

At the flat we meet Dima and Marina. They speak a little French but almost no English and our Russian is even less. Musha is an important link and we suspect that she finds it tiring although she will not admit it. We also hope to rely on our phone translators but the animated background chat in Russian and English means the translator cannot cope and translates all manner of peculiar things. Dima has another translator and throughout the afternoon we have some success with his machine.

Around 6pm we are offered a typical Russian dinner of fish and meat followed by sorbet and strawberries then later Dima and Musha take us for a drive around St Ps. It is a large city of 6 million with wide streets, low level buildings in the city centre of 8 or 10 storeys all with beautiful architecture. The Neva river very wide and cleaves the city Interestingly, at 1.30 am in summer all the bridges are opened to allow shipping through and one bank is largely isolated from the other. It is a long trip to a crossing point up stream.

It is a few weeks past White Night where there is no night time at all. By 11pm it looks like late dusk in Melbourne and this is as dark as it will get. We get a tour from the Hermitage and other huge impressive buildings to the ship building yards. It is not the night to go walking due to strong winds. Those that are battle wind and rain and avoid many broken branches. The river is quite wild and few craft brave the chop.

Returning home we have tea and custard puffs and discuss going to a ballet or opera. Although we say we are not opera buffs, Musha assures us that the Tchaikovsky opera which is only short at 1 1/2 hours we will enjoy. We also watch a trailer for the ballet Spartak which includes “The Fire Dance” and that is absolutley captivating. Probably whatever we see will be hugely memorable, especially in whatever wonderful building we attend.

Wednesday July 6 2016

After a good night's sleep we awake about 7.30. It is still rainy and quite cold but the apartment is very warm. Masha is a night person and stayed up well after we went to bed. As such, although Alexi has gone to work, Masha is still asleep. We will go over to Dima and Marina's flat and have breakfast with them. The only problem is we can't get out the front door. So as not to wake Masha, we send a Whatsapp message to Dima using the English to Russian translator. Some minutes later, I hear the door unlocking but by now I have tried other locks so Marina can't get inside from outside despite having the key. She rings Masha who half wakes and comes to open the door to allow Marina in. A bit of a shemozzle overall.

It has been determined that Masha will take us to The Hermatage this afternoon. Overall, while we are getting along well with Dima and Marina, the language barrier is still a bit daunting for both sides and our phone translators are still a bit short of perfect.

Dima very kindly drives the three of us into the city then continues on to work, after which he has offered to pick us up again. On arrival at The Hermatage we are dismayed to see people queuing in the wind and rain for 100 metres or so to get in. However Dima has purchased tickets on line for us so we walk straight in. We are getting wonderful treatment and are concerned that we may have trouble compensating Dima for costs incurred by him. When we mention this to Masha, she says we can sort it out later.

The Hermatage is bigger than the Louvre and has 2.5 million artifacts on its books. It is possible that we may miss a bit in the few hours we have available. We decide not to get audio guides as these are likely to limit what we see.

It becomes immediately apparent, and in fact was so outside, that no expense is spared oin keeping culturally significant buildings in good order. The interior of the Hermitage is stunning and better than any I can recall having seen. The gilding, albeit gold paint in most cases, is extensive and the furnishings opulent.

There are over 400 rooms here and we go from one sumptious room to the next. Opulence overload is a real risk. For 3 1/2 hours we see treasure after treasure. I am particularly struck by what appear to be a solid polished marble fruit dish except the one I have in mind is 3 metres high, 5 metres long and 2 metres wide. Perhaps it is not a fruit dish. It is truely spectacular but far from unique in this remarkable building.

Rooms have a feature, one of which is vivid emerald green marble likeornamentation. Masha comments that a small portion of the stone is very expensive and there are tons and tons here. There is so much that the quarry where the stone, actually malachite, came from is mined out.

By 4 pm we are foot sore and a bit dizzy with visual overload. We find a cafe where we have a late lunch of ham and cheese croissants and fruit flans. Then we visit another building to look at old masters and impressionist paintings. Once again the buildings are in beautiful condition. In some places, modern areas have been added to improve functionality and the architecture is impressive.

Around 7.30 pm Dima meets us to drive us home. Sitting down is welcome and we get to reinforce our internal map of where things are. We are so appreciative of how we are being looked after.

Dima has cooked a salmon like fish which we enjoy in their apartment. After dinner Dima and Marina go to pick up some relatives who are also staying with them in another apartment which Dima ownes while we stay here with Masha and two year old Aurora. Ro plays some piano while Aurora plays and observes.

Masha is a well travelled and philosophically inclined young woman. During the evening I have a discussion with her regarding communism which Russians generally seem to believe was a bad thing although there are some older people who think life was more predictable under the Soviet system. I express the thought that I am surprised communism was not more successful given what has been achieved in Russia since the 1920 revolution, despite the obvious problems communism presents concerning motivation of the individual. She thinks that a lot of the failure can be attributed to conflicts within Russia and with other countries, notably WWII. Maybe that is correct when one considers the growth of the other great communist power, China, who had been isolationist during times of world conflict.

After an enjoyable evening, we are tired from a lot of walking so go to bed by 11 It is still like 6pm outside and will remain so all night.

Thursday July 7 2016

As we have been having late nights (for us) we get going rather late in the morning. The skies are still gray and rainy but not heavy rain. Masha tells us that whenever you refer to St Petersburg, you also refer to rain although Alex and Katya say they have never had extended rain during their visits. We comment to Marina that it may be St Ps way of making sure we come back to try for sunny weather. We would be happy to do that. St Ps is a wonderful city. Not all cities we have visited have the nice aura which St Ps provides.

By late morning we have braved the traffic with Dima and Marina to get to the Yusupov Palace. This was built in the early 1800s and passed through various hands until the state assumed ownership after the revolution. It has been beautifully restored and maintained, the restoration being required after extensive damage during WWII.

The term 'opulent' is not very adequate to describe the palace. One room leads to an even more opulent one next door. There are three colour themed rooms blue, red and green which are spectacular, a word I have overused. The problem with superlatives is that there are only so many of them and what we are seeing requires a bucket load of them. The ballroom, diningroom and stairways all deserve at least one each.

On the ground floor we see the forerunner to the home theatre. Only this one is a bit special. It is a miniature operahouse! It has two storeys of boxes, a royal box and a small stage with lavish curtains. There is also what appears to be an orchestra pit although it is almost a storey deep. Maybe it has an elevating floor. Naturally all the numerous mouldings are lavishly gilded.

We are treated to a quintet of male singers who perform a beautifully presented Traditional Russian piece. The voices are in wonderful harmony over a full range.

By 4 pm it is time for us to return home to change because we are going to the opera tonight at the renouned Marinsky Theatre where we will see Iolanta by Tchaikovsky. After a quick change into more appropriate clothing, we have a light dinner which Dima has made then Dima drives Masha, Alexi, Ro and I back into the city through heavy traffic to the theatre. The hospitality which they have shown us is well beyond anything we might have expected. We have explained to them, hopefully translated correctly across the language divide, that all their hospitality has created an obligation on their part to allow us to reciprocate in Australia.

The traffic is horrendous but we arrive with 5 minutes to spare. It is still raining so we are thankful to be dropped by Dima at the door. Alexi arrives a minute later.

Hurrying into the building, we are surprised when Masha suggests we have time for a glass of wine. She explains that the start time is 7 and patrons will not be admitted if they are late but so many people are late that they start about 7.20. So we get our wines and around 7.15 the bells ring to summon us to our seats. The late start is symptomatic of Russian practicality. It is evident in their driving, their timing of meals etc and in how they organise business and life. On the roads, people drive at breakneck speed and where ever there is spare road it is used. Nevertheless, the drivers all seem to know who has right of way and the system works very well. Rarely do you hear a horn sounded in anger. The society seems to us to run smoothly. Perhaps the residents would have another view.

Once again the building is spectacular. Five rows of boxes rise to the ceiling probably 35 metres above us. It is as wonderful as was the Paris Opera House although the entrance is perhaps less opulent than the Paris building. There is so much opulence in St Ps that a bit of understatement is quite refreshing.

The opera itself is not enthralling but that may reflect our lack of exposure to the art form. Nevertheless, the experience is one to treasure.

Following the opera, we walk in the drizzle to buy some Georgean wine then get a taxi home. The 20 km in the taxi costs is AUD13! We comment on how cheap that is and Masha relates that in China she got a 2 hour taxi ride for AUD2!!!! We was robbed!

At home we have a glass of wine before going to bed at 12.30.

Friday July 8 2016

Finally a morning which is cool and gray but dry!! Last night Dima and Marina said they would like to sleep in until 10 so we oblige, although that is no great sacrifice.

By 11.30 we are ready to hit the tourist trail but Ro has a bout of dizziness which slows us a little. She is now able to control that which in past years wiped out half a day.

Dima takes us in to see St Isaacs cathedral which we are told is a must see. We park near by, marvelling that there are no parking fees and any bit of kerb side is fair game. We have tickets for the cathedral, more correctly termed a museum, and for the collinade 40 metres above street level and reached by 250 spiral steps.

I have already mentioned the inadequacy of superlatives here in St P and once again we are presented with an interior which words are inadequate to describe. The cathedral was built over 40 years from around 1818 using thw work of 500,000 workers. The architect involved spent his entire life on the project and died 27 days after its opening. What he lived to see is remarkable but what we see now, following extensive damage in WWII, has been extensively restored to reflect that initial magnificence.

Following the revolution it was transformed to a museum of atheism which must have been very painful for those who practiced their devotion there. In WWII it was extensively damaged through gunfire and damp. Schrapnel marks on some columns have been retained as a memorial but following the war, 17 years were devoted to returning it to its original glory, albeit as a museum rather than a place of worship. Today a small part is retained for religious ceremonies.

Inside we see a replica of the scaffolding built to move the numerous 100 ton solid stone columns and a model of the triple domes which together form the roof , the inner dome and the middle support dome. But that is where any sence of the prosaic ends. The interior is mind numbingly spectacular. From the towering external doors to the ornate internal symbolic gates, from the huge solid 100 tonne external columns to the ornate bronze 3mm green malechite veneered internal columns.

There are about 150 religious art works culminating in an 800 square metre painting on the dome It is impossible to describe the splendour.

After leaving the cathedral, we climb the 250 steps to the collenade. The view from the top is wonderful and reminds us of that from Sacre Coeur in Paris. But here there are no sky scrapers to marr the view. As a bonus, it is not raining but it is still windy.

On returning to ground level we walk along Nevskiy Prospect which is the main street. We walk on to The Church of Savior on the Spilled Blood . This is a rather complicated name for a splendid building which was created through contributions by the people to create a memorial to a Tzar who abolished slavery and was assasinated for his trouble. And splendid it is. It has byzantine turrets ornately decorated and is iconically associated with St Petersburg in a similar vain to St Bazil's in Moscow.

Dima has been summoned to pick up Marina, Masha and Ola from a walk they had taken but during which they had run out of puff. We will return home via the Metro with Nikita. After a walk along the canal and a quick look in Kxxx cathedral, which is packed with worshipers at a service, it is time to return home.

Entering the Metro station at Nevskiy Prospekt we purchase a ticket for 70 cents Australian which allows us to ride to any other point on the system. That is how to make public transport work. Make it so cheap that most can't justify cars. Which is a good thing as the traffic jams are bad enough as it is.

We had wanted to see the metro as it is renouned as clean and bright. We take an escalator probably 100 metres or more into the earth where the station consists of a clean well lit tunnel with doors which when open revela the train. We have 8 stops before transferring to another line for a further 8 stops. The 20 km trip takes about 20 minutes.

At Akademicheskaya station we return to ground level to walk the 10 minutes to the apartment. Not quite so easy. While Nikita knows the address, he does not exactly know the way and Ro's foot is starting to complain. After some wrong directions, we eventually get to the land on which the apartment block is located. Fortunately Dima is waiting there in the car so a potentially long walk is averted.

Dima has cooked a lovely Russian borsch soup which we have before a rest. His hobby is cooking so we have been spoiled with eating typical Russian food which has been delicious.

It is around 11 by now as White Night encourages the evening to disappear. What otherwise would be approaching bedtime for us in Russian culture is just the start of play time. Dima and Marina have been telling us, via what may be dodgy translations, that 10 bridges on the Neva open each summer evening to allow large ships through. The reason that the translation may or may not be dodgy is that this phenominon translates as “The Divorce”. Since this event cuts off one bank from the other for 2 hours each night, maybe the translation is correct.

While we are surprised that it is worth staying awake from midnight to 3 am to watch this, when we arrive the number of parked busses and passenger ferries on the river suggest that others think it is too. It is quite a chilly evening but we stand watching the bridge and at the appointed time of 1.30, the first starts opening. It is hydraulically operated and as it opens one huge span separates into two and they each rise into the sky, the street lamps ending up horizontal to the water. These are not small bridges and the engineering feat is impressive.

We clamber into the car and dash to the next bridge as it opens then to another which is a combined road rail bridge. The rail half rises vertcally on huhe columns while the road half pivots vertically reaching the same height as the columns. The whole sight is impressive, as is everything we have seen here.

We are back by 3am and hurredly shower and go to bed. Our sightseeing starts with a canal tour tomorrow and we need to be up by 9.

Saturday July 9 2016

Finally St Ps has seen fit to show the sun. The wind is less, the streets are dry and the atmosphere is dramatically changed. The extrenal facades are now even more magnificent than they were under cloudy skies. All Ro's photography is likely to be duplicated under these blue skies. Gilded domes glint and pale blue finishes are now even more spectacular against the blue sky.

After another typical Russian breakfast called Kornic and consisting of omlet and mushrooms in a type of pastry pie, we leave the apartment to pick up Ola and her two sons for the canal trip. We are expecting the usual tourist canal boat but instead we board an open 10 meter boat which we have to ourselves! Furthermore, there is a guide who speaks English who will give us a commentary during the 1 hour trip!

Although the guide apologises for his English, it is excellent. I ask him where he learned and he says he is self taught by reading. His knowledge of the buildings along the route is encyclopeadic.

Today is the first day without rain and there is a bit of sunshine. Although it is not exactly warm, it is pleasant. The canal boats provide rugs which suggests cool weather is not uncommon.

The route is a large square, passing under numerous bridges with limited head clearance and some quite long tunnels. By now we are getting a slight feel for the city geography so we recognise some buildings along the way. After one hour we return to the canal from which we left.

Marina, Ola and the boys will go walking while we explore Neskiy Prospect. We are happy to get the metro back but we are unsure once we get to Akademicheskaya station how we find the apartment building. As Dima is picking up Marina, Ola and the boys at 4pm at the canal, the offer is made to pick us up there.

For two hours we walk along Neskiy Prospect enjoying the bustling city. We go in to a couple of shop, one dedicated to women's makeup and one a clothing store. Both are chic amd stylish. Later we have coffee and apple strudel in a sidewalk cafe by a canal before returning to the canal via the Blood church.

Dima and Marina drive by as we arrive and after quizzing them we discover they went home and returned to get us as they did not want to subject us to the vaguaries of Russian transport systems. We chastise them but are most appreciative. They have been wonderful in their care of us.

Returning home we have a quick dinner before leaving for the ballet at the new Marinski Theatre.

It is the usual rally drive there. Ro loves the acceleration which is part of Dima's driving and I love the way the traffic works. Each driver seems to know his place. Faster drivers are accommodated without malice and every driver knows to whom to give way. Being a passenger is exciting without in any way feeling threatened. Driving here would be a lot of fun, unlike the chore it usually is at home.

Arriving at the theatre we are, once again, overawed at the architecture. It has been open for 5 years. The foyer has towering ceilings with suspended walkways and stairs. The lighting comes from strings of crystals which hang down from each level. Perhaps inspired by chandelliers but in a Picassoist way they are linear rather than circular. The main wall to the auditorium is of 2 cm thick translucent amber stone illuminated from behind.

Within the auditorium, there is a lot of light wood with 4 rows of boxes up to the 40 metre high ceiling. As we take our seats three rows from the stage, the orchestra begins with the overture.

The curtain towers above us and has a projected image similar to the external stone and with a giant white feather in the middle. It opens to reveal dozens of ornate costumes with grand props and the ballet begins. Although not ballet goers in Melbourne, the venue and fame of Russian ballet work their magic. We are captivated.

After 45 minutes or so there is an interval. We leave the auditorium and go in search of a drink. Ro and I want to buy the drinks but they only accept cash and Masha has told us we can use cards and need no cash. This proves to be bad advise. As we are with Dima and Marina, language is less than smooth. We both use translators which are great but sometimes the translation does not match the sentiment. Nevertheless we enjoy drinks of diverse description and finish them just in time to bolt back to our seats for Act 2.

The movements of both males and females are fascinating. In particular the females move in such a graceful way that one cannot help but be transfixed. This continues for another 90 minutes with another interval where we enjoy traversing the suspended walkways.

After the ballet finishes with 10 minutes of curtain calls, we leave the Marinsky and walk toward the car which has been shoehorned between two other vehicles. However first we will have some dinner.

There is a restaurant which looks suitable so we get a table. The waiter speaks English and is somewhat bemused that we don't speak Russian and Dima and Marina don't speak English. Fortunately the language barrier is not a barrier to communication as we have established a firm friendship.

After dinner, we return home and get an early night. 12.30 am has become an early night.

Sunday July 10 2016

The plan today is to visit the memorial to those who perished in the siege of St Petersburg and then to Peterhoff, the royal palace.

The memorial is gut wrenching to say the least. There are 100,000s of Russians buried in mass graves, most dying from starvation during 1941 to 1945 during the time German forces laid siege to the city. They had expected to walk in to the city but had met resistance which continued until eventual victory when the Germans were defeated. The cost in human life and property was immense. The memorial is very important to the Russian people and the setting and music is beautiful. But the misery on which it is based form such a stark contrast that it makes me ashamed to be human.

We continue onto Peterhoff, 60 km away. This is a magnificent royal property established by Peter 1^st which was all but destroyed in the same conflict in WWII. There are photographs of the shell which remained. That it has been reinstated is a remarkable fete from a remarkable people. The main theme of the estate is fountains which are gravity fed from the Gulf of Finland. Around each fountain, of which there are dozens, are gilded statues which glint in the sunshine. The grounds themselves are perfectly manicured and the tree lined prominades seem to go to infinity. Once again, magnificent is inadequate to describe the vista.

By 7 pm we are ready to leave as the palace itself has closed, unfortunately before we have a chance to enter. Maybe that is for the better because beauty overload is a real risk and the visit would have been rushed anyway.

Instead we stop for dinner at a restaurant at the estate gates.

From there, Dima and Marina want to show us Kronstadt, an island reached by a recently built tunnel. It was built at the same time as St Petersburg for protection. There are assorted fortresses around the island, some man made. But the crowning glory is the naval church. Its gilded domes glint in the late sun. The main dome has gold anchors around the circumference and the square echoes that with a giant anchor decorated in the paving which is best appreciated from the air. A photo attests to this. Along with the gilding, extensive mosaics embellish the entrance.

Arriving home about 10pm, naturally in dusk light, we open a bottle of wine to celebrate our last night. It has been a hugely memorable stay and we are so grateful the Marina, Dima, Masha and Alexi for all they have done for us. In a brief time we have established a firm friendship.

We get to bed at a more normal 2am. Life is a bit different here.

Monday July 11 2016

Our final morning dawns dry and sunny. Rain was predicted but it looks like that won't happen.

We have suggested to Dima that we should be at the airport by 3 for a 5.30 flight but he suggests 4 is OK. I have expressed interest in seeing his electronics business which he dismissively says is only small.

By 10 we are ready to leave. Marina looks after the accounts of the business so we say our farewells to Masha, Alexi and Aroura, who is now fairly comfortable with us, Jim the dog, who is now a good friend, and the four of us pile into the car for the rally drive to the factory.

The business is located in a huge multi storey factory which in former times was some large facility. In Russia, the high level of upkeep of the historical buildings is matched by an equally low level of upkeep of business properties, roads and some residential high rise properties. This facility certainly meets the latter. It is a rabbit warren of passages and rooms and dark stairwells However our tour of the four or 5 very large rooms which house the business reveals sophistocated modern equipment for the design, testing and manufacture of circuit boards. And the small business employs 35 plus casuals when busy. So rather bigger than small. It makes it even more special that Dima and Marina have taken a week off work to show us their city. We have been very fortunate.

When we leave, Marina is staying at work while Dima drives us to the airport. We have protested on three or four occasions that we can easily get a taxi but Dima insists. He says he has customers to see near the airport but we suspect that is a rouse to silence us.

Our farewell to Marina is rather swift and public, being in the office with two or three others. It is a strange feeling as we have grown close to both them. Despite the language barrier, we think Marina feels the same and that is confirmed by later Whatsapp texts, albeit subject to the vaguaries of the translator.

Dima says there is time to visit the porcelain factory on the way to the airport so we park outside a modern looking building in an unlikely city location. Parking in typical Russian style is practical. As there are no parking spaces available, Dima double parks, leaves his hazard lights on and puts a sign in the window which says something like “Back in 10 minutes” and his mobile number. As the showroom is only 30 metres away, he can return if someone needs to move. This is a practical and tolerant country when it comes to traffic and parking.

The factory has been on the site since 1740 which explains its location. There are thousands of items displayed from AUD 10 to AUD 10,000. Dima comments on the high priced items that you could buy a new car here for that price. However we have seen over the past days that in Russia there were people for whom AUD 10,000 for a vase was a negligable amount. In Copenhagen last year we saw a Russian private ship which suggests those days have returned.

Returning to the car after finding nothing we think we can safely carry home, we climb in and leave. No one has been inconvenienced by our double parking and the porcelain factory has had three more potential customers, unfortunately not to their advantage on this occasion.

We arive at the airport by 4 and check in.Unfortunately the plane boards in 15 minutes so there is no time for coffee. We bid Dima farewell in an even more public place but farewells at airports seem more normal. We sadly wave as we disappear through the doors. But either we will be back or Dima and Marina will visit us in Australia or, hopefully, both.

On Sunday Dima had asked us what we most liked. It was an imponderable question. Everything here is superlative and one wonder always led to an arguably greater wonder. St Ps has to be on any “must see” list.

The flight to Amsterdam goes smoothly but on the ground, time slips away and we find ourselves in a long customs queue when the schedule board says “Go to gate“. Drawing the attention of an attendant to our plight we are whisked through customs post haste. The cheery interaction with the Dutch customs is in stark contrast with that of the Russian customs officers who are obviously still trained in the old Soviet ways. We have found the Dutch seem universally friendly and helpful.

Our gate proves to be 1/2 a kilometer away so we jog most of the way expecting unsympathetic stares from crew and passengers as we board late. Fortunately there is still a short queue so we escape that ignominy.

By 9.45 we are on the ground in Milan. Where the van is parked we need to call a number to request pickup. There is an information desk where we should get some help. We don't. The male attendant dismissively says to go upstairs. We say we have no coins to call, can't speak Italian and are not sure which numbert to dial. A dismissive shrug of the shoulders tells us that is not his problem and he says the people will speak English. Over the next few days we will find friendly Italians who willingly help us but not the information staff. As we have found in France, the help desk people seem to be screened to be as unhelpful as possible.

Finally a floor cleaner directs us to the appropriate exit where we are fortunate to find an english speaking traveller who is waiting to go to the same carpark. When the van arrives, she helps with transalation with the driver who doesn't speak English.

Our plan is to sleep overnight at the park and leave at 6am. Our helpful translator explains that and the driver says that is OK but to move the van over near the office.

As we get ready to move, Ro notes the rear window is broken. Burglary I assume. But ovservation shows that when the van was backed up to the wall a bicycle handlebar hit and punched through the window. Damn! But that is a problem for the morning. We are very tired now and need to sleep.

Tuesday July 12 2016

The night is very hot and this makes sleeping difficult. Finally, when we get to sleep, probably after 12, the sleep is short lived as the operation gets going at 4am with slamming of doors, revving of engines and generally making sleep impossible.

At around 6am the young woman to whom we gave an Australian map when we arrived is in the office. This gesture proves now to be of value because we must get some help before leaving. The state of the window will mean fumes are sucked into the van as we travel.

I mention the broken window and she comes to look, seemingly unaware. I suggest we go to the other location to look for bits of plastic and she accompanies me. There are no bits there. I explain that we must fix the window as carbon monoxide may be sucked in and we cannot drive like that. The implication is that we could not have driven here with it broken and she seems to accept that it happened here, which I am fairly certain she knew anyway. A plastic garbage bag allows a tempory repair and I ask her for help to find a repair centre. As I repair the window, a gruff Italian looks at it and says “Not possible”, most likely implicating him as the driver who broke it. I fill out an insurance claim with the young woman's help and we prepare to leave.

The repair place is 15 km away and we battle traffic to get to it. Arriving before they open, we wait on a busy motorway exit for their gate to open. When they do, they can't help but direct us to another place directly opposite the busy motorway. It takes 10 minutes to traverse the circuitous route to get there.

They are also closed. Their sign says they open at 10 in the winter and 10.30 in the summer, presumably their most busy time. But this is Italy. They do have windows to suit but not in our size and a German speaking lady informs me that she does not know where we might get one. Maybe that is what she said. The tempory repair is quite solid so we will continue on our route to France and worry about the window later.

Our next problem is to get gas while we are in Italy where it is plentiful, unlike France where we believe it is not. Over the next 5 hours we visit at least 20 stations, none of whom have the correct adaptor. The last place we bought gas which had an adaptor was a fortuitous find.

Along the way we do a couple of circuits as we recognise places we have passed before. One station we visit twice, two hours apart as we have been directed by each place without an adaptor to somewhere else which may have one.

Also along the way we see a number of women sitting on chairs. They are offering their services to passing motorists. Some have skirts short enough to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. It looks like a rather desperate way to earn a living.

Finally we call in to a Mini dealer as we have been directed to a gas place we can't find. There we speak with an English woman (Hooray!!!!!) who has an LPG car and who knows the problems with getting gas. She directs us to a station which has an adaptor and we fill the tank. Our search for gas is reminiscent of our 2011 trip where we spent a similar amount of time searching.

By now it is 5pm and we are 5 hours from our destination in France. There are few places where we can stop but fortunately one presents itself and we thankfully prepare for the night. The only minor downside is that, as on some previous occasions, we may look like a mobile brothel. Toots from some passing cars confirm this suspicion. Still, a little extra money on the side may come in handy.

We move to a spot a little further from the road and hidden by trees and have a quiet night with our first long sleep in two weeks.

Wednesday July 13 2016

Our chosen path is through Italy to the French boarder following a road which tracks through the alps. It is very picturesque as we drive in the valley with alps towering thousands of metres above us. Along the way we stop for lunch where we can gaze up at the peaks.

It is a short time after our late lunch that Thomasina directs us to TURN LEFT in her usual stern voice. The left turn is toward the peaks. The road gets very steep very quickly! We are in and out of second gear until before long we abandon second gear and stay in first.

The road is very narrow and there are quite a few cars driving down. At passing points we inch past one another before continuing. As we proceed, the road gets even steeper. It is so steep that if we stop there is a good chance we will not be able to start again. Still cars keep coming but the road becomes slightly wider and without sheer drops on our passenger side so we don't need to stop. Apart from the difficulty in restarting, the likelihood of overheating the clutch is real.

Incredibly, we pass cyclists riding up the hill. Presumably this is a major milestone. Something to achieve before a cyclist dies. The two events may well be interdependent.

Finally the serpentine road starts to flatten out. The clutch is still working. The engine temperature is still in the normal range and we have not run out of fuel. Life is good. And the views are marvellous.

Unsurprisingly this is a ski resort. Looking across there are steep ski runs through the fir trees and numerous chair lifts. There are also some stone buildings perhaps used centuries ago by herders during summer. It would be rather inhospitible in winter.

After enjoying a hot drink on the summit it is time to venture into France. The boarder is marked here. Our trip down is likely to be as fraught as our trip up but this time with the brakes overheating instead of the clutch. However we are pleasantly surprised as the road is much wider and the engine in second retards the van sufficiently to not need the brakes much. It is a much more enjoyable trip.

By 6.30 we have reached our French campsite. We check in and drive up to our pitch. We are still in the alps region so the camp site is very steep. Entry is a bit touch and go with the engine threatening to stall.

As I am very tired, we stop at the first pitch we find. After a short walk there is a more appealing one on offer. My tiredness is such that I do not see a tree behind. Reversing is OK but as I swing out forward there is a loud crunch. A light fitting on the tree has been demolished. Furthermore, the handlebar of the bicycle on the back has pushed forward........through the temporarily repaired window!!!! Fate has definitely got a sense of humour.

We will sort out the mess tomorrow. We are becoming quite adept at sorting out messes in the morning.

Thursday July 14 2016

This morning things seem a bit clearer. Unfortunately the sleep has fixed us but not the light or van. There is a gash near the door and the circuit board on the lamp is irrepairable. What a bummer.

The van needs to be emptied of waste and filled with water. The site map shows a dump point but investigation of the area reveals a sign to the dump point but no dump point. Un petit puzzle, as is often the French way.

Morning tea is the answer. There is WiFi available near the office so we spend some time catching up on messages and correspondence. On a few occasions I enter the office but the attendant is busy with others so I leave. Eventually I wait for a few minutes and he is free. I explain that I damaged a lamp but his response is “I am too bizee. Write on this paper.” Foolishly I do so rather than respond “I am too” and leaving. Some time later I return to check about the dump point but he is on the phone. I wait a few minutes and leave. Eventually after returning a few times I get to ask about the dump point. It is in fact the unlikely spot I viewed. It is so impractical I think we must still be in Italy. Later when we dump our gray water, a French lady asks about the WC dump point and when I explain what I was told, even she is incredulous. I don't use that dump point.

The rest of the day is spent lazing about, including use of the water slide which, if the truth be known, is why we are here. The slide is a double loop anticlockwise followed by a loop clockwise and quite fast. Good fun.

As the afternoon finishes, the wind picks up and there is some rain. But we have a quiet night's sleep.

Friday July 15 2016

The camp site is not very inspiring apart from the water slide. It is very steep, the pitches have no grass and the office attendant is gruff. We will pack up and leave early.

By 9 we are at the office. The gruff attendant is there again and as we indicate we want to check out he refers to the broken light. They are expensive, he says. We must pay 865 euro. But if we pay cash, he will accept 430 euro. Will we get an invoice? Yes. Can we pay by card? No. Then we will make an insurance claim for the 865 euro. But, he says, the insurance excess may be 400 euro. Ring your company and check. By now we are suspecting something. The battery backed emergency light I think would be under AUD200 in Australia. He says it must be waterproof which is why it is expensive. Baloney we think. He has an accident report which we must fill out. It is in French and he shows little interest in helping. We say we will fill it in at our insurance agent but he says we cannot leave until the form is complete. Eventually he assists and where he has written French explanations I write in English what I understand it to say. We finally leave at 11. Not a pleasant experience.

However the drive to our next campsite is beautiful, the sun is shining and soon our spirits are restored.

After three hours driving Ro sees a sign to Le Vallon des Oiseaux, Valley of the birds. We stayed there in 2011 and loved it. That was much later in the season and we were the only guests. This time there are many more people and the weather is much warmer.

Our first challenge is that they don't take cards and we don't have any euros. There is a viaage nearby which Thomasina will direct us to. It is 4.5 km away down a narrow road which will involve a lot of reversing by someone if we meat another vehicle coming toward us. But luck is on our side and we see no other cars.

The village is hundreds of years old with an enormous town square where we can park. The locals direct us to the cash machine as Thomasina is decidedly unreliable when used on foot. Naturally because we know where to go, her unnecessary directions are perfect. But that may like saying something you are searching for is always in the last place you look.

Our return trip is equally lucky with no other vehicles. At the campsite we park in the same location we did 5 years ago.

The camp is run by very friendly Dutch people and is set in a lovely valley. The pool which was covered last time is uncovered this time. It is beautifully clear with wonderful paving surrounding it and stone walls which compliment the stone buildings built hundreds of years ago.

There is dinner available for which we book. At dinner we are seated with a Dutch family who speak very good English..... and French and German. The English will suit us fine. We have an animated discussion over a 3 course meal which is rather more than we normally eat.

By 10.30 we are ready to sleep. The sky is perfectly clear so the night is quite cold. But we are snug in our Escargot de Wheels and enjoy a long quiet sleep.

Saturday July 16 - Monday 18 2016

Awaking rather late, we want to have a swim before breakfast . When we arrive, a water aerobics class is just finishing. Maybe tomorrow we will join it.

Our day is a leisurely one spent mostly by the pool reading and swimming. It is how we spend the next two days also. For three days we don't see a single cloud in the sky. That is not a lot like Melbourne.

Our overnight has changed into 4 days. John, the camp owner, had prediced that we would stay more than one day. He suggested one month but we won't quite make that.

We love this environment as we did last time. Perhaps a bit more this time due to the beautiful weather. The stone buildings are evocative and the stone theme has been copied with all infrastructure.

On Sunday night we go for a walk when it is a bit cooler and are surprised how extensive the campsite is. In the office there is a picture of what the property looked like when bought in 1986. John is certainly a people person and in discussions we discover he has similar views to us. Maybe that in part explains why we like it so much here.

Tuesday July 19 2016

Our intention to leave early does not quite materialise. By the time we have dumped waste and filled water it is about 10.

It is nice to be on the road again. We intend staying at a campsite about 4 hours away. With stops to buy some coolant and morning tea and lunch Admittedly the coolant purchase took a little time as we wnated to get coolant this time. Last time, what we thought was coolant was in fact windscreen washer fluid. But we do have the clearest radiator in these parts.

It is around 4.30 when Thomasina directs to turn off a main road and onto a minor road. We had wondered why she thought the last 20 km were going to take 45 minutes and soon we find out why. The road is very steep and narrow. Not quite Italian/French alps steep but just as narrow. Not that the locals seem to appreciate that. They scream by without any apparent concern.

Finally at the top we turn onto a narrow road. We thought the previous road was narrow but we were wrong. After two km when we thankfully don't meet any cars we reach the camp site.

First thing is a swim then a glass of wine and then we go to the office for our first wifi connection in 5 days. A lot can happen in five days..........

It now seems that while we were enjoying the sun, our friends and relatives were asking us to confirm we were not involved in the Nice attack in France, some 60 km from where we had been saying. As we did not have internet access, we were unaware of the concern. Furthermore, it was only at the camp where we had no internet access that the camp manager mentioned the attack to us. It did not occur to us that people might be worried. Rather embarrassing really. Even more unfortunate is that now we can respond, most of those concerned in Australia are fast asleep as it is 3am. Those that can sleep that is.

Wednesday July 20 2016

The morning is even more perfect than the last few! We have breakfast then walk to the office to see what messages we have.

We are not short of messages. If the anger is a measure of how much we are loved, we are fortunate indeed. It transpires that people around the globe have been trying to find our location. Perhaps this is a good spot to apologise to all we have worried and that seems to be quite a few. The problem was that when we were at Origan the broken light created some angst, not the least with the guy in the office who was not at all helpful. Had this not happened we would have posted some blog and all would have been well. After 1 1/2 hours decyphering and filling in forms we did not understand, we were pleased to leave as fast as we could.

But life is like that. So here we are in another paradise. It is a bit like St Petersburg where one splendour led to the next. It is similar here with natural beauty.

The reception for La Combe de Ferrier is on one side of the narrow road and the camp on the other. The reception is actually the home of the owner. It is quite an impressive building with different parts added. Later we learn that the oldest dates back to the 13^th century with additions in the 14^th, 15^th and 17^th centuries. All built out of shale type rock similar to low grade slate called schist. There is also a wide terrace with a large fig tree and overhead trellis complete with grape vine. Absolutely beautiful.

By the time we get back to our van, it is lunch time. Ro makes a rather beautiful aperitiff of once frozen berries (courtesy our less than freezing fridge) and an ice cream, six of which we bought yeaterday. Although we found them too sweet yesterday, today, now molten, with the tart berries the combination is delicious.

There is a quite steep walk down to a creek which we start down. The day is quite hot so we venture only part of the way before returning so as not to overheat. Later we venture further as it is now overcast and a bit cooler. The track is all rock with a rock fence on one side which looks 100s of years old. Learning later that the house is so old means the fence is likely 500 years or more old. The moss grows lushly and the effect is evocative. The rock is beautiful with split surfaces glinting with many hues in the sun. What a feature wall it would make.

We while away our time reading and swimming before a delicious fish dinner which Ro cunjurs up around 7. After that we go for a walk further along the narrow road. We have been advised that it is better to return by the same road we came in and the narrowness and state of this road confirms that.

On our walk, one kilometer down the road we come across a bridge of stone supported by a tall arch which may be 200 years old and a bit further another stone house of 4 or 5 buildings. It has quite a new concrete tiled roof and it is for sale! For some years I have harboured a desire to buy a building to do up here. Maybe............ I will sleep on it.

Thursday July 21 2016

Well the feeling has not passed but we are moving on. The office opens at 9 and it is 8.30 so we can access wifi while we wait.

As we walk across the road, there is what in Australia would be a lunch truck selling groceries. This reflects the effort one has to go to to reach a grocery shop/supermarket. It is a truck with one side opening with a counter.

After 30 minutes we have sent what messages we want, paid our 22 euro for last night and returned to the van. We are ready to face the narrow roads.

As we return along the way we came. The grocery truck is still there. There is little room between the truck and bins on the other side of the road. A figure in the truck waves wildly. Although we think there is room we stop. The figure lowers the truck side which is raised horizontally which we did not see and which we would have removed! That wuld have been depressing. Perhaps a flashing light or road sign either way would be in order. Still, no harm.

The very narrow road extends 2 kilometers during which we see no other cars. It then opens up to a merely narrow road which we follow for 10 km. As we climb further the scenery is wonderful. Few things inspire awe in me more that towering mountains.

As we proceed, narrow roads open to progrseeively less narrow ones until we are on a decent width two lane road. The scenery continues but now I, as driver, can enjoy it a bit rather than peering around every corner for oncoming vehicles.

Around 11 we stop for morning tea overlooking a village. The stone house for sale keeps beconing.

Driving through the Midi Pyenees area along narrow back roads we see many villages dating back to medieval times. The buildings here although stone are quite different from the ones at our last camp. Orange terra cotta rounded tiles on the rooves present a wall of orange across the many steep locations.

By 5 pm we are approaching the camp we intended for tonight. Ro had wanted to visit the town of Monflaquin which we enjoyed so uch last year. I think it is well north of the route we are taking but to our surprise we see a sign to the village. The nice thing about a motorhome is that one can change plans at the drop of a hat. In fact in recent days, hats have littered our path. One more hat will be neither here nor there so we replan and decide to visit Monflaquin. Last year it was hot and crowded. This year it is still fairly hot but at 6pm it is unlikely to be crowded.

Wrong! The square has tables set up and is packed with people, although we are not sure why. Where we had lunch last year we liked the food and the setting so we choose the same sidewalk cafe. Sitting looking over the square and down the steep alleyways is magical. I like France.

Since we are at Monflaquin, we might as well resurect our plan to stay at Laborde again. Last year we enjoyed the water slide and classicalish music by the pool. Perhaps the enjoyment can be repeated this year.

However it is now 9pm and the office will be closed. We will wildcamp tonight.

Friday July 22 2016

Our wild camp spot is as restful as one can expect at a 4 road intersection. Admittedly these are French back roads but still there is the odd tractor, car, truck and high pitched buzzbox motorbike. But not enough for us to lose sleep over.

By 9.15 we have had breakfast and are ready to travel. If you call 3.6 km travelling.

At Laborde we checkin at 9.30, half extecting to be told we cannot check in until 12. But the guy in the office is very friendly, helpful and does not object to speaking English. We remember his friendliness from last year.

It is quite overcast but not cold. The weekend is expected to be hot. We select a campsite with plenty of shade close to the pool and within an hour or two the sun is shining.

The pool area is quite nice with two water slides. After reading on sun lounges for a while, the slide beckons. I am a sucker for things which beckon.

The water slide is much faster than I remember and faster than any I have been on this trip. Although Ro has said she won't slide, by my fifth slide, she joins me for three slides. Water slides always illicit an ear to ear grin and this one does not disappoint.

By late afternoon the weather is closing in again and there is some thunder, lightening and light rain. It should be gone by tomorrow.

We appreciate when we have wifi available and we have it here. No calamities have occurred since we last logged on and in fact we have good news. Alex and Katya were to join us in St Petersburg until life interfered when Alex required an operation. We receive news today that his operation went well which is good news indeed.

Around 8 we have dinner Chez Rosemarie, a little cafe we frequently visit where the food is delicious and unique. In fact I have a bit of a thing going with Rosemarie, which, I might add, does not in any way cloud my judgement of the cafe's quality.

Tonight will definitely be quiet. None of last night's noisy interruptions here.

Saturday July 23 2016

Noisy interruptions are not the only thing which can prevent sleep. A far more effective way to prevent sleep is one of Ro's vomiting attacks. Over the past year she has been very adept at avoiding the attacks by utilizing various mental techniques which attempt to uncouple her cochlear balance input from her other balance inputs. It is the contradiction of inputs which causes the vomiting. We assume the technique has been helpful but we really don't know. Nor do any doctors. This attack is worse than she has had for 12 months. It starts about 2.30am and continues until 6.30. We sleep until 10.30 and the rest of the day is spent recouperating.

By 3pm she is feeling better and we spend some time by the pool.

Later we have dinner at the restaurant. Ro has a salad with some mystery meat and I have a pizza which is so uninspired there is no mystery about it. I can't complain as that is what I ordered, unadventurous gastronomic soul I am.

There is a guest band which starts palying about 9.30 and I listen to them for an hour. I hope the music they play will improve but it doesn't so I return.

Hopefully tonight will be a bit more relaxing.

Sunday July 24 , Monday July 25 2016

The night is quiet and peaceful, as are the following two days. We intended staying one or two nights but it has stretched to four and would probably stretch further were it not for our dwindling provisions.

The site is very enjoyable, the weather is pleasant and we are happy to relax here, with the occasional fast water slide.

Mid afternoon a new arrival on the next door site is sporting an Australian accent amid speaking Dutch. It turns out he left Sydney 25 years ago. His partner spent a short time in Australia and her accent when speaking English has a slight Australian flavour.

Monday night is a beautiful temperature and Ro enjoys a swim with no one else in the pool. I pike because I think the water is not warm enough. I actually discover otherwise after a while but by then it is time to return to our little haven.

Tuesday July 26 2016

After breakfast and WiFi-ing up near the office we get ready to leave. Our final task is to fill with water which is nearly empty and dump our waste which are both nearly full. That takes half an hour then we are ready to hit the road.

As we travel, the fuel needle is hovering on empty. Actually not hovering but stationary on empty. Monflaquin is the closest fuel stop, 14 km away.

Fortunately we get to the fuel bowser but the first automatic one is faulty and the second won't accept our card. There is another outlet 1/2 km back which is attended and 15% more expensive. But 15% more expensive beats running out of fuel so we buy there.

Next stop is a Lidl to reprovision. Then on to Arna which is a camp by the Atlantic 180 km away. We are told there are surf beaches there but what is considered surf here may or may not be what we in Australia consider surf. We visited the best surf beach in Wales which was at best underwhelming. Maybe this beach will be similar.

Along the way we stop at a pharmacy or two because Ro has run out of pycnoginal and we are hoping to get some locally. It is a strong antioxidant which comes from the bark of French maritime pine trees so one would think it might be available here.

We are 80km from our destination when we find a pharmacy who can order some in which will arrive 10am tomorrow. We had intended wild camping tonight anyway so we can do it near here and get the stuff tomorrow.

On the way in, we had seen an Aire with numerous motorhomes so we might stay there. However when we arrive, we are told in French “Privee”. It seems the local gypsies have hijacked the area and non gypsies are not welcome. Perhaps we are happy about that.

Instead we find a track leading to a forest which will do us for the night.

Wednesday July 27 2016

Nothing stirs during the night other than the odd truck noisily proceeding along the road 100 metres away. However in the morning we discover hoof or paw prints crossing the road 10 metres from our van. Maybe wild boar? The late night walk we decided against last night may have been a good decision.

We are at the pharmacist by 9.45 and the pycnoginal tablets are ready. We need more fuel so try Carfours fuel at 1.11 euro again. Once more our card is declined as a signature is required. We instead buy at 1.26 as per yesterday. Shortly after we find fuel at 1.11 where there is a teller. Drat again.

Finally we are on our way to Arna, 80 km away. It is an attractive drive, culminating in the now familiar narrow roads. We arrive by 12.30 and check in at reception.

An English couple we met a week ago are due here today at the site they have occupied for one week per year for the last 20 years. We request a site near them and are obliged with one which has good shade and is 100 metres away. The camp has perhaps 4000 people in peak season, which this is, so spralls quite a lot. There is a swimmingpool complex with an indoor water slide, albeit only half the height of the Laborde one. 200 metre from our camp is the Atlantic.

We set up and remove our bikes to explore. First is the pool complex where we lie under the overcast skies for an hour or so. Then down to “la plage”, the beach. I have a play in the small surf waves for 20 minutes but the waves are very hard to catch and are 1 metre at best. I catch only one or two which is as good as anyone else is doing.

Returning to our van, on the way we say hello to the English couple have recently arrived. They have been invited to dinner with long standing friends and we are not sure that we will stay here more than tonight. We might see them in the morning before maybe continuing on to Spain which is only 100km away. We think we will go on to Bilbao as the weather at present is not unbearably hot.

Thursday July 28 2016

After checking out we are on the road by 10am. The drive is very picturesque through the forest with little traffic, which is good due to its narrowness. There are numerous cyclists who claim the road for themselves. It is not uncommon to see two riding side by side as traffic behind waits for a place to overtake on the other side of the road. While I object to them using the road like this as they have their own marked lane, I object even more to them passing when traffic is stopped at lights or a roundabout. They can't have it both ways. If they want to use a car lane, they should wait behind blocked traffic.

Along the way we stop for some Tourist Office wifi as we didn't have it at Arno. Free wifi carries the price of having to provide information and wait for confirmation emails. But we have learnt our lesson about being out of contact with family for too long.

Further along we call in to Lidl then opposite to Intermarche to buy a new gas lighter. Given that we light the cooktop 5 or 6 times per day, matches are a poor option and we don't have many matches anyway.

Finally we enter Spain. In all countries, the different way in which objectives are achieved and the relative importance of things becomes apparent fairly quickly. So it is with Spain. There are many spaghetti road junctions as in Italy and the road signage is different, with different speed limts.

We travel along a coast road which hugs the cliff and provides wonderful sea views. I know they are wonderful because of Ro's comments. I have to watch around every corner for the next semi trailer or bus so don't have time to appreciate the views.

We are surprised by the rolling green mountains of the north. They are reminiscent of Switzerland, perhaps on a smaller scale. But driving through old towns squeezing past on coming cars is familiar. Added to this is the habit of locals to double park with hazard lights flashing forcing other traffic in the already narrow roads to negotiate a slalam course between.

The coast road continues to hug the cliff but gets narrower. At least semi trailers and buses know not to brave the roads........ well MOST buses.

On one of these narrow cliff hugging roads we find a reasonably large pull off area. This will be our overnight stay. We are delighted to find eucalyptus trees growing profusely. It evokes a very nostalgic feeling. There is a track leading down perhaps 50 metres to the rocky seashore which we take. The calm Atlantic view is toward England although we can only see France over to our right.

We should have a pleasant and quiet night with only the washing of waves against the rocks to send us to sleep.

Friday July 29 2016

It certainly is a quiet night. The only slight noise comes from three rifle shots around midnight. Mind you, those three small, short noises are sufficiently disconcerting to disturb our sleeping pattern. Ro awakse about 9.30am having slept solidly from 5am when she decided that any serial killers were not interested in us.

The trip to Bilbao is about 50 km and continues along narrow roads. At one point we travel up a steep incline in first but the descent on the other side is steeper than we have travelled anywhere. Even in first gear with full engine braking we still need the brakes which are in danger of overheating. However, as we approach Bilbao, the narrow roads are replaced by a complicated road system which makes me nostalgic for the narrow roads. But not steep ones.

As we approach the city via elevated roadways, we see apartment blocks competing in height with the rocky edifaces. The impression is of a modern city with sophistocated engineering and architecture, albeit with outcrops of old buildings crumbling with decay.

As we wind our way into the city proper, unsure of whether this is a mistake, we travel along a river landscaped either side with huge plane trees. Up ahead we see the world famous Guggenheim Museum.

There is a parking space we can occupy. We have some coffee in the van before going to pay the ticket machine. This proves to be an extended process. While a local we invite to buy his ticket before us takes 30 seconds to get his ticket, we, with the help of a French family, are still there 15 minutes later. Finally we get a ticket which says we are due back far later than the 2 euro should have allowed. The joys of foreign languages.

We walk across the river on a foot bridge which has a fascinating support structure relying on an offset beam with a horizontal arched decking. This theme repeats itself on other bridges we later see.

Everything in Bilbao seems to be elevated. After climbing steps to get onto the bridge, on the other side, below we see a tramway with very modern trams running on rails running through grass covered reserves. However there is an aerial bridge continuing over to a main thououghfare 20 metres above the river level.

The architecture is an eclectic mix of old and new without one subsuming the other. Walking along the road we reach the Guggenheim. What a stunning building it is. It has stone panels between vast areas of titanium tiles in a free flowing design. Later a discourse by Frank Gehry, the architect, explains that he allows his hand to move freely on paper while he thinks of various concepts. The resultant freeform sketch is what he bases his design on.

We are more interested in the building than the exhibits within. However inside we discover there are only a few art exhibits within the building and that the building itself is the main exhibit. This suits us. We spend 1 1/2 hours walking around the three levels and taking in some of the design concepts. It is a wonderful experience.

By 5 we are ready to find a camp site for the night. But not in Bilbao. Instead we set Thomasina for a beach about 10 km from where we are. As we approach, we see acres of parked cars but no beach. The beach must be really something.

We decide to travel a further 18km in search of a quieter campsite. But this is foiled when we reach a seaside town, named Castro-Urdiales , in which the camp is situated and it is row after row of multistorey apartments which go on for four or five kilometers. Finally we reach the campsite which is down another narrow road and up steep hills one or two kilometers outside the teaming metropolis. I am too tired to continue so this will do. At least we will get a good night's sleep here.

Saturday July 30 2016

We are undecided where to go this morning. However a comment from a passer by in the camp decides for us. We will go nowhere. Until we fix the completely flat tyre.

We have never had a flat tyre before. Had we not fixed the rear floor in 2012 we would be in a lot of trouble. It was then that we discovered that the undersling read box blocked the spare tyre winder mechanism. This time the problem was only remembering how to access the winder.

The jack is a 2 tonne one but struggles to lift the van. I borrow some blocks of wood to place below the diff for safety. It is a slow process and we are not on the road again until 1pm.

Our first port of call is a repair place. We are directed to a service station which may fix it but instead he directs us 200 metres up the road to a tyre place.....which closes at 1.30 and it is now 1.30. Fortunately we arrive when the door is open and the very efficient guy quickly changes the broken valve and swaps the wheel back before he closes. We are very appreciative.

We will now head for Charroux as we said we would be there Monday. We start on non motorways intending to avoid tolls. After 40 minutes, Thomasina says she has discovered a faster route if we retrace 5 km. What she does not tell us is that tolls are involved.

The first section has numerous tunnels and we are prepared for a hefty toll. But after 20 km, wonders of wonders, we are charged 59 euro cents at the toll gate!!?? Go figure.

Before the French boarder, we are charged 7.70 euro then a further 2.40 euro as soon as we are in France. Then the tolls are applied furiously. Two or three euros every 20 km or so. After a few of these, we get the gist and opt to leave, continuing on non-tolled roads.

By now it is around 7.30 following a few stops along the way. We see a nice treed parking area and will stay there tonight. Once parked, there are loud cracks of thunder followed by several more and light rain sets in.

Sunday July 31 2016

Our park is close to a Lidl so we will get some more provisions before continuing on to Charroux, about 4 hours away. Where we have parked some Rumanian plated vans have also parked. They look like they will leave the rubbish they have generated on the ground when they leave. It is a pity when rubbish bins are plentiful.

We drive to the Ledl park next door but soon discover the store is closed. Instead we hit the road for our 4 hour trip to Charroux.

It is a straightforward drive. We have selected to use motorways so it is the usual overtaking planning and leaning-forward-in-the seat-to-help-us-up-hills-as-trucks-nibble-our-bumper type driving. I have discovered that after a long day of such driving I have a sore back, especially in hilly country.

We arrive at Charroux about 5pm wondering if Mavis and Terry will be home. Our movements were not well defined so their being in France was not assured. But, although they are not there, it is evident that they are still here. They return 20 minutes after we arrive.

It is nice to catch up. We will stay in the van in their front yard for a few days before moving on. We have dinner of pizza with them before retiring around 10.

Monday August 1 2016

Mavis and Terry have three dogs who ensure we wake in the morning with loud barking. Admittedly it is 9 am so we should be awake anyway. We have breakfast on the front patio with M& T before our day's quest which is to fill the gas tank which we think should be close to empty by now. Our problem in Italy and France has been to get an adaptor to match their filling nozzles. However, Terry has a gas converted car and has the adaptor we need. We will borrow that and drive the 25km to the closest LPG, called GPL here, supplier. In past years we have had to spend many hours getting gas so with the correct adaptor we will not miss the opportunity. Furthermore, we can get this adaptor on the net, so says Terry, so I will do that from Australia for future years.

We arrive at Ruffec only to find the outlet cannot dispense gas at present. The next outlet is a further 40km so we travel there. Finally we can fill our tank, which when empty takes 30 litres. To my surprise, the pump cuts out at 10 litre, meaning we still had 20 litres left, enough for the rest of out time here and some for next year. On top of that, as we left T & M's a tree scratched the side of the van and broke our outside light. We have had nore scratches and dents this trip than all others put together! Finally we are back at Charroux by 4pm, having left about 10.

M & T are out tonight so I take the opportunity to get dirty by wire brushing and spraying the wheels which I have wanted to do for many weeks having bought aluminium spray before the catamaran holiday. All goes well but I notice the front wheel is getting low on tread. The spare is nearly new so I clean and spray that and replace the worn tyre as the spare. At the same time, I note the passenger front valve stem looks somewhat perished so we will replace that before it fails like the one in Spain.

The van looks much better with the newly painted rims. The improvement helps to offset the new scratches we have acquired this season.

Tuesday August 2 2016

While we have breakfast coffee with M&T on the patio, Mavis mentions there is a market in Civrey today which she will go to. We agree to meet them there after the valve is replaced.

The local mechanical repairer's teenage daughter is working with her father and quickly removes the tyre. She searches for a leak but can't find one. In broken French and with the help of the phone translator, Ro explains we want to replace it before it fails. In 10 minutes we are back on the road with a new valve. We are charged 12 euro. The 25 euro in Spain was a rip off, probably fuelled by a language barrier greater than the current one.

We find M & T just as they are leaving but continue to look at the stalls by ourselves. Nothing much appeals but we do buy a lovely quiche for our lunch with M&T. Back at Charroux, we enjoy M&T's company over the quiche then prepare to leave . We are on the road by 2.15.

We wnat to retrace our steps to a camp below La Rochelle on the west coast. It is 180km away if we take a ferry across the estury between La Rochelle and the camp. Mavis has told us that La Rochelle old port is worth a visit so we deviate via there.

When we reach La Rochelle, traffic is heavy and we don't see anywhere to park or anything we want to explore further so we continue on to the ferry. It is around 6.30 when we arrive and I am quite tired. We decide to have a snack while we decide where to spend the night.

Around 7.30 we decide that it would be better to take the ferry tonight and sleep on the other side, about 3 km and 20 minutes away by ferry.

After paying 48 euro for our ticket, rather more than we expected, we wait for 20 minutes before boarding and by sunset we are on the far side. As we leave the town, there is a forest with picnic tables and that will do us for the night.

Wednesday August 3 2016

It is a lovely quiet night. Not another motorhome in sight. That may be because of the “Motorhomes Prohibited” sign we see the next morning.

It is 35 km to Monta where we want to stay for the next few nights. After a leisurly breakfast we arrive by 10am. The site has 3000 pitches plus 127 tents, 152 mobile homes and 45 chalets all on 200 hectares. Really quite large. In fact probably the largest we have been to. Despite the size, because it is August, and everyone in France goes on holiday in August, at reception they struggle to find an empty site! Finally they locate a couple of sites which we can look at. The one we like is still occupied until 12 noon. With the amount of stuff they have on the large site, they will struggle to vacate in 1.5 hours.

We check in, which includes a photo id card the photo on which a prison inmate would be ashamed to show, then go to the pool area to wait. There are two water slides which look good but the pool complex is not open until 1pm. Instead we walk over to the beach which is crowded with thousands of people. The beach is supposedly a surf beach but, once again, is somewhat disappointing. I catch a couple of waves but nothing very exciting.

At 12.30 we return to our site which now has a spot to park the Escargot but the very friendly people are still some hours from being packed to go. One lady speaks very good English and is very friendly. She lives in Germany but has spent the last week or two with family and friends here. Their tiny caravan and stationwagon are packed to bursting before they finally leave about 5.

It is quite hot so we try to install the van under the few trees available. I then do a couple of repairs, including the brake handle which had broken on my bike.

Later we go to the water slides and they are indeed good fun. If it were not fot the dammed kids, we could have a good go at them.

Later we walk down to the second beach access where the tide is now coming in and the long walk to the water is replaced by a thin strip of sand which is gradually being taken back by the sea. There are still a lot of people in the water between the patrolled flags but the waves are all breaking without much chance of body surfing.

We want to get rid of our food before next Thursday when we return home so eat in. When we baught the quiche on Monday, the friendly vendor gave us one of her special saucages so Ro will cook that tonight.

Thursday August 4 2016

The forecast was for rain today and that is what we get. It is odd to compare the hordes of people moving around the camp yesterday with the complete absence of anyone today as the rain lightly but persistently falls. Our friends of yesterday left the right day. Today would have been miserable for packing up their voluminous quantity of stuff.

The light rain goes on until 4pm. It is just enough to keep us inside where we read and do a few odd jobs. The flywire on the port side (boating still fresh in our memories) is not retracting as it should so I want to remove it. However three screws are behind a shelf and take an hour to remove. Then another 30 minutes to refix after fixing the roller. Lucky I can't do anything outside.

By 4.30 the rain has passed so we walk up to the shops. There are 22 shops including some supermarkets and grocery stores. We need a few provisions from the supermarket then sontinue walking.

Half a kilometer further along there is a heated pool which we inspect. Although we don't have towels, the pool looks inviting so we spend half an hour there. I am particularly taken with the pool roof which is obviously quite new. It has tapered laminated beams with an opaque plastic roof. The beams are supported by tapered laminated columns and are bolted with a circle of bolts 400 mm in diameter. Nice engineering.

The lack of towels means it is a bit chilly drying off but we manage and walk one kilometer back to the van. This is a big place.

Friday August 5 2016

Blue skies return. The day is spent reading, going to the surf (ish) beach visiting the shops for bread, watersliding and walking. Relaxation is the key.

We have noticed that the French are generally a relaxed people. Perhaps that is why they have a highish average life span. Time is always made for talking , laughing and meeting with old friends. Admittedly one might expect that at a holiday resort but we have noticed it elsewhere also. There is a lot to be said for such a relaxed lifestyle.

Saturday August 6 2016

Another clear blue sky and about 27 degrees. The water slide pool is also 27 so it is very pleasant to swim in. We have a bit of a routine going. Breakfast, read, shop for bagette, visit surf beach to be disappointed, lunch, read, waterslide, dinner, beach walk. Go to bed. Rather predictable but enjoyable. We will be sorry to leave.

Sunday August 7 2016

Last full day. Our usual routine is modified when we visit a bar between watersliding and dinner. Over a glass of wine and a soft drink we access the only free internet on the site. The 5 euro we would pay to have access to the camp internet we instead spend on the drinks at the bar.

Monday August 8 2016

We need to leave by lunch time but have a few chores, namely water filling and waste dumping, to do before then.

To make our leaving this delightful site more pallatable, the weather genie has turned on some gray skies and a cool breeze. By 12 noon it is still overcast but the breeze is warmer.

After checking out we head toward Bordeaux. The roads for the first 20km are narrow and bumpy and it is quite a pleasure to get on good roads again. We have to head south east to get around the deep inlet over which we took the ferry last week. Our plan from Bordeaux is to head to a camp site about 1 1/2 hours from Beaurainville for our final night to prepare the van for our absence. The distance to that site is 755 km from Bordeaux and is predicted to take nearly 9 hours.

The afternoon is spent driving on motorways and other lesser roads all nevertheless in good condition and of reasonable width. With breaks along the way we eventually stop at a roadside aire at about 7.30 pm. Fortunately it is a nice one and inhabited by various carloads of people having picnic dinners or resting. There is a truck bay some way off so noise should not be a problem. We are 450km from our campsite so should reach it easily tomorrow, giving us two nights to pack our things and prepare the van. A bit extra time is always welcome.

Tuesday August 9 2016

We wake early;not because of noise but perhaps because we have our sights set on home. After breakfast we are on the road by 7.15.

The day is spent dashing along motorways. Our van struggles up hills (well, more like inclines) so driving is less than a relaxing experience as passing has to be planned including estimating whether a truck will be nibbling our bumper on the next incline.

We reach our camp about 3.30. The sun is shining but there is a cool breeze. It is a lovely treed site and should be a nice end to our time this year in Europe.

Let's eat drink and be merry for tomorrow we pack and dump.

Wednesday August 10 2016

Our penultimate day has arrived. It is overcast and cool; a good day for packing. The day is expected to peak at 23 at 5pm so the swimming pool will remain untried by us. Perhaps another year.

We spend the morning reading and playing two rounds of mini golf. The obstacles are possibly eclipsed by the poor condition of the course surface. There are about 8 holes and we go around in under 40. Probably not a course record. Ro's penance for getting a higher score than me is to do some washing which we are uncertain is going to dry by tonight. Fortunately it does.

The afternoon is spend packing, removing batteries and generally trying to remember what we need to do to leave the van for the winter.

At 7 we have an eclectic dinner of what is remaining in the cupboards and fridge.

We get an early night so we will be well rested for the homeward flight. Also we want to be up early to leave here by 8.30 for the 2 1/2 hour drive to Beaurainville.

Thursday August 11 2016

The early night means we awake at 4am and have trouble sleeping again. When we finally do, we awake at 7.50 which means we have to rush to leave. Finally we are on the road by 8.50 and should reach Beaurainville by 11.35 which leaves 2 hours before our train.

The drive is the usual and we arrive at 11.32 at the station. This year I will drop Ro and the bags at the station and take the van to its winter barn then walk back to the station about 15 minutes away.

All goes to plan and I am back at the station at 1.05. Our RER arrives at 1.25 for the 1 hr 50 min trip to Arras. That also goes to plan and we arrive there 40 minutes before our TGV trip to the airport. Sitting on the platforms we feel like old hands at this. It is quite a pleasant feeling.

By 15.30 we are speeding toward Paris. We will arrive at 16.17 then have a 4 1/2 hour wait to board our flight to Singapore. Our 2016 advanture is drawing to a close. We are no longer masters of our own destiny. Times and places are layed out for us. We will resume control of our lives in Melbourne at 6am local time Saturday.

The TGV arrives exactly on time and we queue to get an elevator to level 4. Air France is highly computerised and we can scan our passport to print boarding passes. We should be able to print our baggage tickets but, for us, computer says no. We must go through a manual baggage check. It turns out that this is because they have no record of our having paid for the tickets. We can offer no proof so the attendant shrugs in a typically French “What the hell....” way and we are on our way, thankfully without our bags. They will join us in Melbourne by a process which I think is one of the remaining great mysteries of life. That, and that computer software actually works.

We take the shuttle train to another part of the terminal and are left with two hours to kill before boarding. Before leaving the van, Ro made some delicious rolls one of which remains from our lunch on the RER. There are biscuits and cheese, chocolate cups, chocolate, fruit and cake, all the last remnants of food from the van. We will have a meal on board about 11pm so this will tide us over.

The plane leaves on time and by 9 we are on our way to Singapore.

Friday August 12 2016

The flight is 12 hours 15 minutes and it is always quite a marathon. Films, eating, walking a bit and the odd brief shutting of eyes gradually allow the time to pass. Finally we land at Changi at around 3pm, having moved our clocks 6 hours ahead.

We have a few hours here before our flight to Melbourne and first thing is to check in as we could not do that in Paris.

They have a surprise for us!!!! The flight has been cancelled due to some maintenance issue. That was not what we wanted to hear. Instead they offer us a flight tonight to Sydney followed by a domestic to Melbourne, arriving at 10am instead of the 6.30am we had expected. If we don't like that we can pass through border control and talk to the main desk. Presumably we could be put up overnight in a hotel and fly out tomorrow but we don't have our bags and probably don't want them anyway. We will stick to their offer.

We are on the plane and away by 8.30pm with a 7 hour 50 minute flight predicted. More films, food and fafffing about and finally we touch down on good old Oz soil. It is nice to understand all the signs and hear familiar accents.

Saturday August 13 2016

We have brought some teas and mushrooms from Russia and wonder what quarantine will make of it. The answer is sawdust. While, to our surprise, they allow the mushrooms, one of the hand picked teas has all kinds of potentially nasty seeds and is dumped.

We have to take a bus from the international terminal to the domestic one and during the 10 minute trip the guy opposite with the broad Australian accent is on his mobile. We tire of the familiar Australian accent by the end of the trip.

The last mercifully short flight lands at Tulla at 10am to a chilly 10 degree day. Now we consider we are home. We left 10 weeks ago and have travelled many thousands of air kilometers and 7000 more in our van. We have visited nine countries. But we still live in the best one. Well it will be when summer arrives.

Europe 2015

marfee7 — Tue, 14 Jul 2015 18:13:00 GMT

October 2014

Not going next year. We are sick sick sick of mooching about Europe for 12 weeks at a time.

January 2015

We have had a lot of fun in Europe in the last 4 years but it will be nice to be home this year

March 2015

Wonder if airfares are lowish this year. Not that it matters as we are not going this year.

April 2015

It is getting a bit cool here and there are some good prices still available.

May 2015

Well we have our tickets. But only for 5 1/2 weeks which should be a managable time rather than that tedious 12 weeks. We leave 8July and rteurn 15 August . So where will we go this year?.

June 2015

We are organised..... somewhat. We will drive up through Germany , Denmark, Sweden, Norway then back down to south of France to visit friends before returning home. Pity it is not 12 weeks.

July 2015

We will arrive at Beaurainville at 3pm on Thursday to unpack our motorhome. Thursday night in the hotel carpark, Friday morning get a roadworthy, Saturday drive 600 km to visit Felix Sunday in Germany then drive 600km to Copenhagen for Tuesday. What could go wrong? We have even allowed a 5 minute toilet stop before we get to Stockholm after Copenhagen. After all if you can get around the world in 80 days, this trip should be a snip.

Wednesday 8th July 2015 Melbourne Australia

The good ol Met and Skybus deliver us to the airport in 1 hour with tons of time for our 10 am boarding on Jetstar to Singapore. However the queues to get through security and customs mean we are at the gate lounge by 10, the supposed boarding time. On two occasions in the past 4 years I have been explosives tested but this year Ro is. Three out of 5 times for something which is random suggests we must look pretty sus as a couple. Either that or the operatives "don't want no trouble" so they choose us gray haired geezers with the zimmer frames. Last time I paint my zimmer frame with psychodelic paint.
We board on time but some luggage mixup supposedly delays us at the apron for 90 minutes. Finally we are underway for our 8 hour flight which will land at 6pm , 1 1/4 hours late. Fortunately our Air France flight to Paris leaves at 10.30 so no great problem.
One and a quarter hours late was a bit optimistic as it turns out. Poor visibility keeps us in a holding patern for a further 40 minutes and we finally exit the aircraft at 7pm, over 2 hours later than out scheduled time. Still not a problem but it made a long time sitting , especially as we are in the inner two seats of four so we are trapped.
With a somewhat shorter wait at Changi we are at our gatelounge well before the 9.30 opening time. The travellators, each segment of which is about 100 metres, provided some home grown entertainment as a group of Aussie gymnasts travel back and forth doing handstands. It looks rather comical seeing pairs of shoes where heads should be. Our Aussie hearts swell with pride that the larrikan culture is still alive and well.
And we do battle with Microsoft at a free wifi kiosk when they recognised a new device. For security they will not allow access until we retrieve a code from a second email account. But we cannot access the second account until we retrieve a security code from the first account. Good 'ol Microsoft. We give up.
On board our Air France 777-200 we are asked to keep our seat belts unfastened as they are refuelling the aircraft. That is a first. Another first is the French safety video which features five or six smartly dressed girls in a stylised drawing of an aircraft pointing out the usual but in an extremely entertaining way which encourages one to watch. We like the way the French do things.
The rather tiresome 13 hour flight goes as comfortably as can be expected.We arrive at CDG at 5,30 am, clear customs, pick up our bags which had not been lost in the Melbourne curfuffle, and proceed to Gare CDG, or the train station as the plebs call it.

Thursday 9th July 2015 Paris France

We have four or five hours to kill. Not so hard as we have become masters of time killing. The fact that we are almost comotose due to sleep deprivation also helps. Our train leaves at 11 07 36.07325 (French trains are very timely) however ther 36.07325 becomes an extra 15 minutes which is not what we had hoped for in our tired states. Even worse, the 15 minutes becomes 19 minutes. Our faith in French trains is dashed but we have about 40 minutes wait at Lille so the lateness will be absorbed.
That is if we can find our next train at Lille. We arrive at Lille Europe but need to leave from Lille Flanders. As usual the French offer "un petit suggestion" as to where Lille Flanders is but not clear directions on how to get there. With the delay on the TVG out "heaps of time" has become "a bit of time" which does not allow for a lot of getting lost. Entering the shopping mal is not a good start. The sign showing we should ascend the escalator proves to be don't ascend the escalator. The sign which shows "Gare Lille Flanders" both up the escalator and on this level proves to be multiple ways to get there but not necessarily the shortest.
One way or another, our "heaps of time" proves to be "just enough time" and we find ourselves on the way to our next train for our final segment to Beaurainville. All French trains have an LED sign showing which station is next. All trains except this one. Likewise announcements. So we anxiously watch each station name, knowing that if we read the correct name, the train will have left before we can get off. Instead we rely on our watches, notwithstanding our loss of faith in French punctuality. Our fears are dispelled when our stop turns out to be the terminus. More adrenalin to get rid of.
Finally we arrive at Beaurainville at the 3.56 time stated on the tickets. A brisk 30 minute walk and we are finally at the van, The storage proprieters are away but a keysafe holds the door keys so within a few minutes we are at the van. I connect the batteries hoping that the motor will start. The sick cranking suggests we are out of luck but on the last gasp, the motor starts and we can move to the fresh air.
The van has wintered well. Inside is reasonably dust free as opposed to outside which will create a dust storm over France when we brush it off. However after an attack with a broom, cleaning off acorns presumably stored from resident squirrels and droppings presumably from the same source, we are ready to go.
First we search for Dekra, the business which will do our Control Tequnique as required biennially. Then to Aldi for some groceries, most importantly for dinner. Last time we had dinner at the pub but by the time it arrived we were nearly asleep. Gravy on ones nose is not a good look. So instead, with her last ounce of wakefulness, Rosemary makes a scrumptious dinner of vegetables and fish. We skip sweets in favour of a shower and bed. Needless to say we sleep quickly and soundly with the van parked in a car park opposite the pub.
Until 3 am when dripping from the shower and the click-click from the fridge igniter awake me. Next morning it transpires that the gas is empty and we had been just lucky enough to have sufficient for cooking and hot water for a shower each.

Friday 10th July 2015 Beaurainville France

Breakfast is light on without any hot drinks so we arrive at Dekra for the Control Technique with plenty of time. One flaw in our planning will be exposed if the van does not pass due to faulty brakes. But we are lucky and all goes well. The van passes with flying colours so we leave by 10.30 for Borken which is about 1 1/2 hours from Felix, Kathrin and their one year old son, Ari, in Osnabruck. If we can cover the 480 km this afternoon, we can stay at Borken two nights and have tomorrow for relaxation.
The afternoon is spent dashing along freeways in France, Belgium, Netherlands and Germany. We should arrive by 6pm, allowing for a quick morning tea, assured to be quick as we have no heat source, and perhaps a more leisurely lunch.
Driving on freeways involves the usual tight formation flying. The only problem is that other drivers have fighter jets whereas we have a Cesna. Timing is critical but the ordered way in which motorway users drive here makes it quite enjoyable. Zip out of the right most lane checking that the fighter jet approaching from behind either has an outer lane available or that we have just enough time, momentum and flat ground to slip back in to the right lane after passing the horse drawn vehicle we are slowly closing in on.
Along the way in Belgium we stop for lunch at a servo which we hope has LPG. It does so we now have heat available for cooking.
Unfortunately we did not allow for Friday afternoon traffic near Antwerp. Crawling along start stop before inexplicably returning to 110 kph manages to chew up 1 hour and we arrive at Borken at 7.10 rather than 6. However, as usual, we are welcomed in German and shown to a camp site. I must admit, I assume welcomed as my German is sufficiently poor not to understand German abuse. Fortunately the meaning of a smile is universal.
By 9 pm, we have eaten and are ready for bed, still not having quite recovered from our inbound flights.

Saturday 11th July 2015 Borken Germany

Today is promised to be 30 degrees so we can spend a relaxing day around the large beautifully clean pool.
But first we are informed there is a yearly shared breakfast at 10am. We go for a swim early and have some muesli before joining 79 others at the breakfast. We take an Australian flag and are applauded although there is laughter at my kangaroo impersonation. There is a Dutch couple who speak English well. With a little help from them, we have discussions with a German couple. With a little English from them and a little German from me we have a rather halting discussion, although I am not sure about what.
About 11am we learn that there is to be a lesson in Line dancing to "Achy Breaky Heart" and we feel obligated not to let Australia down. While Ro picks up the steps easily, a "natural" according to our new Dutch friend, my utter confusion with left and right now I am driving on the right side of the road means my not getting up would have let Australia down considerably less. We are somewhat amused that we spend probably 15 minutes learning the steps without music then do the dance once to music and that is it.
Although we want to do some shopping before Denmark, the weather is too nice to leave this lovely environment so we will do the shopping Monday.
We spend the afternoon relaxing and doing the odd bit of maintenance/improvements before a light dinner and bed.

Sunday 12th July 2015 Borken Germany

Awaking early, Ro braves the pool before breakfast while I brave the delights of the waste point. Dumping waste every couple of days is a small price to pay for the convenience of having our own conveniences.
After breakfast we are on our way to Osnabruck to visit Kathrin and Felix and to meet Ari. It is a 1 1/2 hour trip and we had emailed that we would be there by 10. Our departure time should get us there by 9.15.
As always, we watch out for the cheapest fuel. Having bought diesel for 1.19 euro/ litre in France when we see it for 1.23 we mutter "tell him he's dreamin`" and drive on. Along the way, as the red fuel line is passed, we buy diesel at 1.36/litre. Maybe we had mistaken the dreamers for the dreamees. But being the canny Scots we are (well Ro's heritage goes back to the Isle of Mull) we only buy 20 litres, purchasing a further 40 litres at 1.21 in Osnabruck. Later we will see it for 1.17. Doh!
At Borken we had discussed the merrits of complying with the emission rules of Osnabruck. In favour was buying a green sticker for 5 euro versus a fine of 50 euro if caught in the city centre exclusion zone without one. Against was the fact that we considered our vehicle would not be granted one due to its emissions. Being a Sunday, we think we will wing it.
Arriving at Felix and Kathrin's flat, our next problem is parking. The row of double parked cars encourages us and as we arrive, Felix is there to greet us. We discuss further the problems re the green sticker. If we double park and are caught we get fined. Without a green sticker we get fined so we decide "in for a penny, in for a pound" and double park without the sticker. The advantage is that we can watch the official writing the ticket from the flat. Perhaps not a huge advantage.
We spend an enjoyable hour or so meeting Ari. Last year we had brought a kangaroo with us from Kangaroo Island. It had wintered in the van and was now wrapped in coloured tissue paper in a carry bag. As is to be expected, Ari loves the tissue paper but is ambivailent about the soft toy.
Over the morning and afternoon, we learn what what Ari's communication signs mean. Our concern that his screwed up nose means the kangaroo has not wintered very well proves to be his communication sign for 'rabbit', which is a fair description for the toy.
After a delicious lunch cooked by Felix (and a lament by Ro that she does not have one like that) we go for two walks, one of which is to an ice cream parlour. Three years ago we had a spaghetti lookalike icecream and we want another.
Returning to Felix and Kathrin's flat we have some strawberry cake, also delicious, then Ro and I decide to head toward Lubeck which Felix has suggested we visit on route to Denmark. He did his undergraduate study at the university there and he says the heritage listed old town is well worth the visit.
After farewelling Kathrin, Felix and Ari about 5, we drive until 8 overnighting at a highway parking area which is minimally screened from the busy motorway. We won't need much dinner as lunch was so filling, which is fortunate as our provisions are low. High on the list for tomorrow is some shopping at our preferred outlet, Lidl.

Monday 13th July 2015 Highway side near Lubeck Germany.

It is about one hour to Lubeck but by the time we stop at Lidl to stock then drive through the town and find a place to park we decide we cannot do justice to Lubeck in a few hours. Instead we will continue on to Lillebaelt our overnight camp in Denmark and visit Lubeck on our return to Germany, overnighting in the parking area we have just found.
Driving through Denmark we are astounded at number of large transport depots between verdant rolling meadows.
Reaching Lillebaelt about 7 we are fortunate to have a Norwegian turn up at the closed reception at the same time as there is a mobile number to call and we don't have phone connection.
The site manager comes and shows us around the facilities and we choose a campsite overlooking a wide expanse of water. A short while later a caravan threatens to obscure our view but fortunately it is moved where our view is unimpeded.
After dinner I have a sauna which is welcome as summer is not exactly hot here. The sauna has a panoramic view across the lake and I have a good discussion with the Norwegian who assisted as we arrived. Although it is about 9pm, it is still as light as at 5pm.
By 11, although it is still daylight, we close our curtains and go to bed.

Tuesday 14th July 2015 Lillebaelt Denmark.

The day breaks sunny but with a chilly wind. In the shade of the van the wind can be escaped and the sun is warn though not with the strength of sun in Australia. The Scandinavians seen to be oblivious to the wind. I had been a bit concerned when I has asked the Norwegian if it was warm when he answered it was a bit cold. My concern was that a bit cold may have meant sub zero but fortunately last week it had been 26 and cold was referenced to that.
We spend the morning reading, relaxing and doing the odd chore. I had brought a DC-DC voltage intensifier to fit to the water pump in the hope that it would improve pump flow but it is a failure. However I do discover that I can run the grinder through the inverter off the battery so I can adjust the water bottle holder I brought from Melbourne. One out of two is better than none.
Around lunch time we decide to head off to our campsite just outside Copenhagen. It is 2 hours away and we will stop for lunch along the way.
The downside to my discovery re the angle grinder is that the battery now won't start the engine. In Melbourne we had blown a boat trailer tyre some months ago and were fortunate enough to have a petrol head with a full workshop buying some dinner where we had stopped to borrow tools to change the tyre. Similarly here, a motocross junkie offered his truck full of tools to get the van going. I think he was disappointed when I started it with our jumper leads onto the house battery. We have found the Danes a friendly lot,
By 4.30 we reach our next campsite. Because the distances are shorter we can start avoiding motorways which we find souless and lacking any cultural identity. Back roads lead one through villages where the country's identity is revealed through the houses, how they are kept, the colours and the architecture. As might be expected, Denmark is neat and orderly and not teaming with people.
Our campsite is one hour from Copenhagen and nicely laid out with lots of grass and hedges which we soon discover are valuable for shielding from the strong sea breezes. We are up on a cliff face overlooking the sea which exacerbates the breeze.
First up is some washing. There is a frontloading machine which will wash our four towels and one tea towel in only 2 hours. Perhaps it remanufactures them rather than washing them. Instead the short cycle is chosen, taking only 80 minutes. However the manager warns us that "washing machine" minutes are not the usual minutes we are used to so perhaps we should book another night here.
It seems a watched washing machine is very similar to a watched pot as it takes an age to finish. If indeed it remanufactured the towels, the effect is very accurate because the threadbare patches remained that way.
In order to come down from our washing high, we have cheese and biscuits then dinner. After dinner, as it is still bright daylight, so we walk along the foreshore, bracing ourselves against the rather cool breeze.

Wednesday 15th July 2015 Jaegersborg Denmark.

If it seemed breezy yesterday, today it is quite windy. Although not cold, it is not pleasant to be in so we instead head for Copenhagen taking all back roads. For the next two nights we are staying at the Phoenix Hotel in Copenhagen more due to a mistake than a definite plan. We will park the motorhome at the City Camp, a parking place for motorhomes which we only discovered after booking the hotel which we could not then unbook.
We can only check in after 3pm which proves to be about right by the time we park the van and cycle to the hotel, taking three or four wrong turns along the way. The problem with putting Thomasina in ones pocket is that unseen presses through the pocket can reprogram her. She starts directing us to the hotel but somewhere along the way decides instead that we want to go back on our bicycles to France. But we twigged before we even reached the German border.
Finally we arrive at the hotel. There is valet parking offered for Bentleys etc but it seems this does not extend to bicycles. So we instead have the courtyard opened and park them there. Ours are not the only bikes but perhaps the rest belomg to staff.
We requested a room on the second floor hoping for a view, Our view turns out to be a view of windows which have a view to us. Not the view we had in mind. However, we don't expect to spend a lot of time gazing out the window. Nor, for that matter, providing entertainment for those gazing from oposite.
There had been a canal to cross on our trip here so we return to stroll along the many eating places. The buildings remind us of a cross between colour of Tobermorey on Mull and the elegance of Helsinki. There are many boats moored in the canal including the very wide and long canal boats which offer trips on the canals. Their geometry refelect the low bridges under which they pass.
We walk up and down the food offerings mostly street tables but nothing really appeals so we eat fish and chips away from the crowds on a seat by the canal.
Down toward a larger canal we have views over very impressive contemporary architecture. However it is getting a bit cold so we return to the hotel.

Thursday 16th July 2015 Copenhagen Denmark.

A buffet breakfast is offered in the hotel restaurant. What we eat will sustain us for most of the day, which is how we are meant to function. There is little doubt that eating like this every morning would allow us to join the swelling ranks of the obese, with an emphasis on swelling.
Our first outing is to the canal boats were we take a one hour boat trip for AU $8 per head which seems very reasonable. Copenhagen is very waterfocused and there is quite a number of canals through the city centre where the long wide and low canal boats ferry large numbers of passengers under very low bridges at relatively high speeds. Although the guides who give commentaries in English, German and Danish sequentially warn when low bridges are approaching, I am surprised that the occasional head is not removed. Anyone standing would likely suffer that fate.
The boat gives a very pleasant introduction to the buildings and cityscapes around Copenhagen, from 16th century buildings to the many contemporary buildings which are very impressive. Especially impressive for a country of 5.6 million. The Copenhagen Opera House is particularly striking with its huge rectangular slightly angled roof which tapers to a feather edge on the harbour side. The iconic Copenhagen Little Mermaid, from a Hans Christian Andersen fable, is a must see on the canal boat and is distinguished by the hordes of people on the bank nearby.
Returning to the hotel we retrieve our bikes from the courtyard and cycle toward the Kastellette, the best preserved fortress in Europe (if I am remembering correctly). Along the way we visit a cute little church then along past an impressive fountain. There is a 160 meter luxury yacht (so called) in port called Eclipse owned by a Russian businessman. There were two or three ships of this size worldwide in 2014 but there were 140 scheduled for building in 2015. Capitalism seems to be alive and well. One could hire this for about 1 million euro per week with an extra 50% on top to cover fuel, food and gratuities.
A bit further on is the land side view of the Little Mermaid. The photos from the boat were stunning of her back but we want her front view also. But the crowds are still milling as every tour bus in the area has this on its adgenda like the canal boats.
The Kastellette has earth ramparts and a moat surrounding it and is accessed via a bridge. The three storey barracks are painted red, in excellent contition and still in use by the military. We can walk around the public areas unimpeded. A glimpse from just inside the gatehouse is all we require to get a feel for the area and we return on our bikes to look at Amelienborg, a current Royal residence, a significant part of which is undergoin restoration and hidden behind scaffolding and mesh. Fortunate timing on our part allows us to view the changing of the guard, one group of whom are equipped with full buzzbees, which would be rather hot today. We note that many Danes are very tall and this is particularly evident among guards.
From there we ride to the Botanical Gardens, stopping before at Rosengorg Slot, another royal residence. Copenhagen is a beautiful city with a lot of parklands and waterways. It is very flat so there are huge numbers of bikes.
It is approaching closing time so we leave and start cycling back. Along the way we find a restaurant where we intend having a small dinner. However a buffet of Italian food is offered so our plans are dashed and our stomachs expanded. The food is delicious and not salty which suits us. Although prices in Denmark seem to be high, this meal is excellent value.
Returning to the hotel, our intention is to walk after a stomach settling rest. However the rest proves to be longer than we plan.

Friday 17th July 2015 Copenhagen Denmark

First up is the super stuffer buffet breakfast. Twice a year is more than enough for us. This will keep us going all day.
Check out time from the hotel is 12 noon. There is some vascillation about whether to visit the museum and return to the hotel or take our two backpacks and leave them at the museum cloak room. Ultimately the latter is adopted and we ride our bikes the one or two kilometers to the museum, depositing the bags in lockers available at the museum. The locker keys are unnumbered for security.... and confusion as it turns out. Returning after 60 minutes in the museum, we find a group of ladies somewhat concerned that their key does not open our locker. We redirect them and retrieve our bags.
The museum is housed in an 18th century building and well presented. Many small rooms offer interest from prehistoric to recent history. The biggest problem is that it is very hot where the unseasonably hot sun strikes the un- airconditioned rooms.The overheating is the main determinant of our stay,
By early afternoon we are ready to cycle back to our motorhome at City Camp. The trip to the inauspicious location takes 15 or so minutes where we eat lunch and are on the road by 2.30.
Our journey now takes us from Denmark to Sweden via a 3 kilometer tunnel and a long bridge for a cost of 52 euro. Once in Sweden we want to reach a camp site about 200 km away leaving about 550 km to Stockholm.
Sweden is quite different from Denmark. The rolling hills are replaced by forrest and a lot more water. The predominant house and barn colour of red (a brick red), white and black are iconic and ubiquitous. Occasionally a renegade paints his house a soft yellow or house and barn in light gray, but these rebels are in the minority. Off the motorways, these scenes prevail with lush crops providing a uniform mat up to the buildings.
By 5 we reach where our camp should be. However, as sometimes happens, our GPS coordinate does not quite get us there. Where we stop is by a lake which would make a lovely campsite but we decide to try an alternate coordinate and that leads us to the camp a short way further around the lake.
We are welcomed and find a site. There are only twenty or so other campers in a nicely treed and grassy area. There are some forest walks which lead to other areas by the lake. However mozzies and the time mean our walk is not a long one.
Returning we have dinner then a sauna before bed. As would be expected, saunas are big in Scandinavia and most nights an electric or wood fired sauna, often with a view, is operating.

Saturday 18th July 2015 Kyrkhult Sweden.

The sky is overcast with no sun but the temperature is not cold. The forest walk last night continued further into the forest so we explore that after breakfast. It is a lovely deserted track which leads back around the camp. However after perhaps 2 km we seem to be heading away from the camp so we backtrack. On the path are what seem to be hundreds of locusts but which on closer inspection are tiny frogs from 1 to 1.5 cm long. I pick one up for Ro to photograph and close inspection of that suggests they may be toads. Perhaps we will leave them alone.
The day stays overcast so we will head toward Stockholm. It is about 6 hours from here so we will stay at an intermediate campsite about 4 houts from here and 2 hours from Stockholm.
We have been concerned that our Travel Card has been incurring some random charges when we buy at automatic fuel dispensers. A 12 euro transaction had a 125 euro transaction attached. Likewise two others had significant other transactions attached. After contact with the bank and observation of our statement, it transpired that the large amount is a security amount which is not claimed by the vendor, presumable unless there is some fraudulent transaction.
When leaving Denmark we had asked the city camp manager whether Swedish fuel prices are more or less than Denmark. He said prices go Sweden, Denmark then Norway. We didn't fill up in Denmark on that advice........which was wrong! Checking later on the net, Denmark is cheaper but Norway is the most expensive so we will fill before leaving Sweden. The 10 Swedish Kroner to 1 euro makes buying fuel a bit scary. Seeing a price of 583 on the pump makes one feel like a semi trailer driver.
Once again our GPS coordinate is a bit wrong. We drive up what turns out to be a house drive with supposedly 400 metres to go before we realise we are in the wrong place. The owner helpfully gives us directions and we reach our camp 4 km further on.
Once again, there is a sauna operating by 8pm and I have a discussion with Swedes who almost universally speak English at some level. When they speak in Swedish to one another, it is a very unfamiliar language with nothing recognisable. There is a Finn there who speaks Swedish and English. No one understands his Finnish which they think is like Hungarian, presumably based on the Cyrillic alphabet.

Sunday 19th July 2015 Figeholm Sweden

The morning is overcast again with a cool breeze. We will head for Stockholm this morning after a walk which takes us along some rural dirt roads. We get to see typical rural houses at close hand and take photos of many different wild flowers such as daisies, small thistles, violas, ferns and many others unrecognisable all dotted between silver birches and large rocks.
Our journey to Stockholm is about 2 hours. We had an option to take a ferry but the road is much the same time so we take that. Along the way an exit from the motorway promises a picnic table. However the setting leaves something to be desired so we drive a little way along a road into the forest and there is a clearing where we can stop.
Continuing on toward Stockholm we meet the standard traffic jam which starts for no apparent reason and stops for no aparent reason. Finally we enter Stockholm and are presented with numerous tunnels. We are concerned that Thomasina will not know her way about underground and the tunnels are huge with multiple exits along the way. Although she authoratively tells us what to do, as we exit she is silent for a few moments, presumably not wanting to admit she doesn't know where we are. After numerous long tunnels, we somehow exit somewhere near where we need to be which is a motorhome camping area I found on the net. Where we had planned to stay was full until Tuesday but this area which is by the waterside is wonderful. Furthermore, we are informed by another motorhome occupant that this area is better than the other site at which he has stayed previously.
We are opposite a wharf with numerous character filled boats and we can park here free tonight then for 12 euro per day thereafter.
A fellow Swedish motorhomer gives us information regarding points of interest in Stockholm and information regarding Oslo and also Portugal and Spain. A very valuable resource.
It is about 8pm and still very light so we go walking. Stockholm spans numerous islands joined by bridges. We cross one bridge onto an island where we will visit a large museum tomorrow in a very impressive building built in the early 1900s. Walking back we enjoy the evening waterfront and think how lucky we are to have this experience. We are in the middle of the city with everything we need and will wake up to the gentle operations of the waterfront.
The device I brought from Melbourne to improve the shower flow was a dismal failure. When we are plugged in to 240 volts, the flow is much better. Tonight I have an epiphany. What if I plug the output of the 500 watt inverter into the 240 volt input? While this may seem like that old chestnut perpetual motion, it is more biblical in nature. Rob Peter to pay Paul. Unfortinately the robbee is the starting battery so I hope Peter has broad shoulders.
It works! I have a shower with decent flow and the motor still starts afterward. Rather more strangely, when the inverter is unplugged, the shower still has a higher flow. Maybe it is more biblical in nature than I thought.
So to bed. For some reason we sleep better here than in Australia. Maybe because we watch no TV here.

Monday 20th July 2015 Stockholm Sweden

The gentle sounds of the waterfront unfortunately include trams and quite a bit of traffic. Nevertheless, waking up here and eating breakfast overlooking the water and 50 other motorhomes is magical. We can park here until 9am tomorrow for 12 euro and stay as long as we like, or certainly as long as we want to be here. We need a few days to explore the city, which from here looks lovely.
There is a slight drizzle of rain so we allow the drizzle and breakfast to both settle before cycling off. Unfortunately the drizzle increases so it is 11 before we mount our trusty bikes to ride to the museum. After that we will ride around the island on which the museum is situated.
The museum is interesting and well laid out. The interior is as impressive as the exterior. Inside the door, a giant oak statue of Gustave III (we think) seated. His generous proportions suggest obesity is not a recent thing.
Upstairs are exhibits of housing through the ages. Before WWII Sweden had some of the worst housing in Europe but they dramatically altered that from the late 40s. Other exhibits show furniture, table decorations, clothing and other domestic human endeavours onward from the 1500s. Although the museum was supposed to show Scandinavian lifestyles, the volume of exhibits now allow only Swedish culture to be showcased.
While we look through the museum, the rain has intensified. By 5 the museum is about to close so we exit in lite drizzle and wait in the van for it to pass. The clouds clear and the evening is dry and not too cool.
Cycling toward the Old Town, we pass multiple water fronts before Ro spies a laneway, the end of which looks like the streets we expect in old towns. Unfortunately the crowds of tourists, eateries and souvenier shops are much the same as we have come to expect also.
It is about dinner time. After inspecting numerous menus we select an outside table at a restaurant away from the crowds. We order meat medium rare which is a mistake as the Swedish translation for that must be 'nearly uncooked'. We do not enjoy the meal and leave by 7.45.
Riding back; rather than returning immediately to our "home", we ride further away from the water through a lovely green park before returning about 9 pm.
Tomorrow we will get a ticket for a hop on hop off bus and boat to explore further afield, assuming dry weather.

Tuesday 21st July 2015 Stockholm Sweden

Our plan today is to do the HoHo thing. Probably the HOHo bus and HoHo boat. Whenever we have used a Hop On Hop Off bus we have found it very worthwhile and we loved the Batteau Bus in Paris.
Walking the 300 metre to the area where ferries depart, we stand in a queue before I decide to look further along the quay. A Red Bus representative recognises the signs of a tourist and starts to extoll the virtues of his bus. Reminscent of the conductor in Singapore except he approached on foot whereas she had come in for the pitch hanging out of the bus in question.
As I return to consult Ro, the opposition rep from Green buses has seen some indecision on my part and pitches his spiel. His bus is the original, has a few more stops and, as a sweetener, he will give our party of two a group discount of 10%. We are convinced and buy his ticket for 690 SEK or AU$100 for a two day pass.
The boat visits 8 stops and takes one hour to traverse these. There is a commentary and we learn that 14 inhabited islands make up Stockholm central. Returning to stop 1 we continue for another 2 where we will hop off at the Vasa museum where a warship from the 1600s was raised from the harbour in the 1960s. It sank 20 minutes into its maiden voyage much to the embarrassment of the builders. The brackish water of the harbour had preserved the wreck and the museum is the most visited in Stockholm attracting one million visitors per year.
However as we leave the boat, we see a group of ships which we can explore as part of the maritime museum. There is a lighthouse ship which is fully open to the public, from the lighthouse at the top of a 35 step spiral stairway down to the living quarters and some machinery.
Another ship is open; an ice breaker built in 1915 and used until 1970. Once again everything is accessible. The engine room has walkways accessing the steam driven engines and the boilers can be inspected. Oil cans still have oil in them as if the ship were still operating. The living quarters are all open and the bright orange wet and cold weather gear is hanging up in the lockers as if the ship went out yesterday. None of the Australian 'nanny state'. We are given the opportunity to look after ourselves.
Nearing lunchtime, we go to the Vasa museum. The length of the queues shows how popular it is and discourages us from queueing. Maybe tomorrow, early as it opens at 8.30. Instead as we are near "home", we have lunch overlooking the passing throngs.
The afternoon is spent on the bus. Toward the end of the afternoon, it starts to rain. We take another boat ride before bussing about in the rain until 6 when we don some plastic ponchos from two years ago, from the bus tour in Dublin....who cares if we look like big plastic coated garden gnomes, we will arrive "home"relatively dry upon which the rain intensifies. We will stay in for the evening.
Ro cooks a lovely meal of salmon and vegetables which we enjoy many times more than our meal last night. Lets hope tomorrow is not wet.

Wednesday 22nd July 2015 Stockholm Sweden

The Vasa Museum opens earlier than other attractions and it is our intention to join the crowd to beat the crowd. Arriving there about 8.45 there is already a group there but they go in the group door and we enter the 'others' door immediately.
The ship is huge. Built between 1625 and 1628, it was the biggest and most advanced warship in the world. Unfortunately King Gustav had ordered a second deck of guns against the advice of the Dutch designer and this was its downfall. 20 minutes into its maiden voyage a gust of wind caused the ship to heal sufficiently for water to gush into the open gun ports and it sank with the loss of 30 or 40 people. However, 17th century Sweden's loss is 21st century Swedens gain. The ship is the largest ship of that age worldwide.
The museum is very well done. Apart from the stunning ship, there are numerous exhibits of artifacts, below deck mockups, cross sections, a 1:10 scale model in full sail and lots of information, thankfully in English as well as Swedish. There are seven levels from which the ship can be viewed. It has been carefully stablilzed since its lifting from the harbour bottom in 1961. The conservation work took 17 years before the ship could be displayed. Since then, it has been returned to its former state using 98% of the original ship. It has been well preserved for 333 years underwater due to the low salinity in the harbour because Stockholm sits between a fresh lake and the Baltic Sea. Wood worms, the main cause of decay, cannot live in that environment. A lack of barnicles on boat hulls here attests that.
By lunchtime we have seen our fill. Undoubtedly one could spend days there but information overload takes its toll and 3 hours is enough.
I have brought the computer with us so we can use the free wifi to catch up on emails etc. By the time we leave the Vasa Museum, the visitors are almost shoulder to shoulder and the queues outside are horrific. Possibly due to the number of people the wifi is as slow as a wet week. The Norska Museum which we visited two days ago has wifi and is only a few minutes away back toward the van where we intend to have lunch. So we spend 40 minutes there catching up before going back for lunch.
We can use our HoHo tickets until this evening so a leisurely few trips by boat around the harbour look appealing. On the first trip, we exit at Stockholm's amusement park where we have free entry as part of our ticket. We have been observing some of the rides during our boat trips. One is an 80 meter free fall ride. Another has swings which raise 80 meters while their occupants are rotated and swing out at 30 degrees or so. There are also rollercoaster rides galore. It looks like a lot of fun but Ro is not too keen and I don't succumb. Nevertheless, the engineering involved is very interesting.
By 5 the boats stop and we cycle back to the van for some refreshments and a bit of a rest. A bit later we return to ride the buses but after waiting at a stop for 30 minutes it seems unlikely the bus will come. Although the pamphlet did not tell us. the evening buses only run part of the route.
Riding to the start point, we miss a bus and are informed there will be a 40 minute wait. Perhaps we won't bother. Instead we cycle back home and have a delicious meal of vegies and fish.
A bit later, as it is still broad daylight and not cold, we cycle back toward the Vasa which is on Djurgarden Island where there is a large parkland around which we cycle for 40 minutes. Tomorrow we will return here to visit Skansen which is an outdoor museum with 150 dwellings reassembled there from all over Sweden and depicting times from the last several hundreds of years. There is also a zoo with elk and bears which we may or may not visit.
Cycling back to the van, we turn in for the night.

Thursday 23rd July 2015 Stockholm Sweden

We have learned that the early bird catches the worm. After a breakfast, noteable for its absence of worms, we are ready to cycle to Skansen by 9am.
Skansen is like Sovereign Hill in Ballarat Australia except that it was founded in 1891 and and as such the buildings have an historic feel as they should as some of the buildings have been on site for 120 years. Although Beamish in UK has an 'old' feel about it, having been founded about 30 years ago, the comparison with Skansen is marked.
We are at the entrance at 9.15. This time we have indeed beaten the crowds. Unfortunately that is because it doesn't open until 10.
At 10, we queue with the crowds to enter. There is an escalator which saves us the climb up a significant hill to the first buildings. The long escalator is invisible, having been installed in a tunnel through the cliff face many years ago.
We have paid for parking until 1pm expecting that 3 1/2 hours would be enough for us. Now we have 2 1/2 hours so the pressure is on. Inspecting the glass blowing, we proceed to the furniture factory and engineering works. Our now shortened stay is helped by the fact that many buildings don't open until 11. The worms seem to be sleeping in.
We had been unsure of the morality of visiting animals in captivity but as other things are closed, we venture toward the zoo. Morality can occasionally be overshaddowed by convenience. As it happens, the enclosures are large and well adapted to the animals` habitat, to the extent that I know the animal's habitat. But the attention to detail is evident.
Before we reach the reindeer, we stop in to a printers home from the 1840s. There is a piano there from that period and it is open with music on the stand. The period dressed attendant says the piano is working and in tune. Ro has a tinkle. It is the oldest piano she has played.
The bears provide an extended show of mating suggesting that either their environment is so boring there is nothing else to do or that they are so relaxed in their environment that they are oblivious to the dozens of interested spectators. In fact the response of the spectators is as interesting as the mating process. One American woman loudly (is there any other way) exclaims "We really shouldn't be watching them" without turning away. Whether it is a puritanical observation or anthropomorophic, considering their privacy is not apparent. A Swedish woman with a young child enthusiastically points out the activity to her partner. I am, of course, merely an observer.
We also see elk, bison, boars, wolves, wolverines (related to badgers) and numerous other animals, all apparently happily going about their business. As a zoo, it stands up well.
We are running out of time quickly. There is time to look at a few more buildings then visit the pottery before cycling back to the van to avoid a possible parking ticket.
There is time for a hot drink then we want to start off for Oslo. While it would have been nice to stay the rest of today, we have been here 4 days without water top up or effluent dumping and we need to do both. Last year we also had to consider the battery but our low wattage lights and engine charging of the house battery has improved that.
A fellow Swedish motorhomer has given us information as to dump points along our route so we will head for one of those. First, though, we need to stock up on provisions. A Lidl along the way fixes that and a Bauhaus hardware store provides a couple more LED replacement globes.
By 6 we have cleared Stockholm and want a break. Stopping near a church we spy a water tap. The waste dumps may or may not provide water so we ask at the house closeby whether we could take 80 litres. The lady who answers calls her husband and we have a pleasant chat with them for 10 minutes. It seems that they are the parish minister and his wife. The discussion turns to Abba and she says she does not like them much. Being the recent Abbaphile I have become, I state how clever I think the lyrics and harminisation are and we leave with an undertaking by her to re evaluate their work. Fancy that; Australians teaching Swedes about Abba. We fill the tank and are on our way.
It is about 7 when we reach the dump point and it takes about 20 minutes to dump all our gray and black water. There is no hose fitting so the decision to fill earlier is vindicated.
There are about 350 km to Oslo so we can drive a bit further tonight and sleep in a motorway rest area.
By 9.45 it is starting to get dark so we stop for the night. Ro whips up a quick dinner and we are ready for some reading before bed.

Friday 24th July 2015 300km from Oslo but still in Sweden

It is a quiet night after breakfast we set off toward Oslo. We want to fill with fuel close to the border as Norwegian fuel is quite a bit dearer than Swedish fuel we been told.
The 300 km we need to cover to Oslo seems to take forever. Along the way we stop for morning tea then lunch overlooking a lovely river.
Soon we will enter Norway and we now consider whether we want a break from touristy pursuits. There is a campsite about 50km from Oslo on the water where we might spend a day of R&R, the first R being 'repairs'. I have discovered LED light modules which use 0.1 amps instead of the 0.5 to 2 amps that our current lights use. This is motorhome gold and the three I bought have transformed our home from a medieval dungeon at night to Las Vegas. Another 3 will complete the task. The astronauts in the space station orbiting at night will thank us. I also want to check that we have some brakes because there is a slight grinding noise as we stop. Question is: which one first?
We arrive at our campsite via the not unusual circuitous route. It is 5pm and there is some sunshine but a rather cool breeze. Fortunately there is some shelter so we can top up our vitamin D without freezing our ..... well without freezing.
There is a sauna from 6 to 10pm so I spend an hour or so chatting to others while heating up. There is a Dutch couple who don't speak Norwegian so the common language is English. How fortuitous. We have quite an enjoyable chat before I return to the van for a nice dinner magically created by Ro in our pocket handkerchief kitchen.
After dinner we both go for another sauna where we meet a Norwegian who spent 4 years in Australia while his father was employed by Halvorsen cruisers. Both Ro and I were involved with Halvorsen when our families separately hired their curisers about the time our new acquaintence was in Australia in the early 1960s.
We ask about things to see in Oslo but we have chosen the wrong person. He hates cities. Oslo he ranks between Stockholm and Copenhagen, with Copenhagen the worst. Not much help there.
Returning to the van, we read before sleeping. The astronauts probably wave as our lights are turned off.

Saturday 25th July 2015 Moss Norway

It is 9.30 before we get up. The sky is overcast and it looks like it will not be very warm today. Despite the poor weather, after fiddling about until lunch, we decide to stay today and drive to Oslo , about one hour away, tomorrow.
Last night I had checked the brakes and they are fine. Some more work on lights and a bit of sticking here and there together with reading occupies a fair slice of the day.
Late afternoon we walk along the foreshore, a narrow, rocky beach which rises up to steep embankments. We walk a short distance before returning to access wifi on the campsite.
A little later we are listening to music in our motorhome which we have brought this year on our phones. The urge to dance overtakes us. Space is rather limited so boot scooting is out. Tango is a possibility but only for two steps. Perhapse a close coupled walz. We toy with the idea of removing the table to provide an annex but settle for the 2.5 metre by 500mm ball room we have at our disposal. It is amazing what accomplished dancers can achieve in limited space.
The sauna is operating at 6 so by 6.45 I can get some welcome heat. It has been lightly raining for a few hours and is likely to continue. Chances are it would not have been a good day in Oslo and we hope tomorrow will be better.
We have located a few attractions we want to see in Oslo; among them a trip on the Oslo fjord. The ones on the west coast are better but we don't want to drive that far. Our intent is to spend a few days in Oslo then maybe drive a little higher before returning to some warmer weather down south.

Sunday 26th July 2015 Moss Norway

Our plans for an early start are foiled for two reasons: one, we don't wake up early and, two, it has been raining steadily all night and is still raining heavily. Before leaving we need to fill water and dump waste. The latter involves scrabbling under the van with the transfer tank and significant rainfall discourages that. Instead we have a leisurely breakfast hoping that the rain will lessen.
It does by 10.30am so I venture out to begin the tasks. Ro collects some wild raspberries and red currants growing nearby while I fill the tank with water. Now to drive to the waste dump. The engine groans but will not start; courtesy of my grinding activity yesterday. Our grinder is 500 watt and the inverter takes 42 amps from the starter battery to run the grinder. As the battery seems to be on the way out, no go today. Fortunately the house battery is full of herbs due to our new LED lights so jumper leads between the two solve our problem. Later it transpires that the engine battery earth terminal has a poor connection so the jumper leads are packed away for good.
By 11.30 we are on the road to Oslo. As we get closer, more rain suggests our stay will be wet.
I had seen on the net a camp site on the waterfront a la Stockholm but I don't have a grid reference. Instead I have looked up Marinas as a Point of Interest and I set Thomasina to one closest to Oslo. How many marinas can there be? The answer turns out to be dozens and dozens! Oslo must have the highest per capita ownership of pleasure craft in the world. In our short drive we see thousands of boats. Views across the water are almost obscured by yacht masts and that ignores the same number of boats without masts. I set a few points in the G.P.S. along the waterfront but no motorhome parking spots are evident and the number of boats just keeps soaring.
We have set three museums and the opera house as things we want to see. We drive past all of them just looking for our campsite. We decide to visit one this afternoon but parking is diabolically difficult and expensive. There is one park which suggests we can stay overnight but that will cost us around $70 in parking fees!! And the rain continues.
On top of the parking problem, the roads are spaghetti and tunnels abound. Thomasina makes a good effort to guide us without GPS signals but the result is some wrong turns and a bit of stress.
Overall, we decide to quit Oslo. Due to detours, wrong turns, failed expeditions and the like we have seen quite a bit of Oslo and close suburbs and we think that our friend from the last campsite could well have placed Oslo behind Copenhagen and Stockholm and we would not have disagreed. The weather is still wet and there is no promise of improvement. We will head back toward what we hope will be sunny France.
Setting Thomasina to take a path down the coast to Denmark, we farewell Oslo.
By 8 we are ready to stop and find a roadside rest point which is well obscured from the motorway. After dinner we go for a short walk where we find wild raspberries to pick and eat for breakfast and a very wombleable hand trolley which will save my back when carting the waste tank to far flung dung dump points. All the current cassette toilets have wheels so I can now join the throngs.

Monday 27th July 2015 E6 Roadside Stop Sweden

We wake at our usual 9am. We are getting quite lazy. A quick breakfast, a walk to pick raspberries and we are ready for a day of dashing along motorways.
But first I need to check some of the engines vital signs. One is oil and that is OK. Another is water and that looks OK until I look inside the reservoir. What looks like full fluid is actually a brown stain. The fluid is low. Fortunately I have some glycol inside from last year. Retrieving the 5 litre bottle from the storage area, I am just about to pour some in when i notice a photo of wiper blade on the bottle. Everything is in French so my assumption when I bought it that it was antifreeze may be in question. After a bit of investigation we realise the container is washer topup, the same green colour as glycol. Our vehicle has been cooled by windscreen wash for the last year. Better get some glycol when we can. Meanwhile we can have a clean window albeit with an overhot engine.
We have set Thomsaina to Lubeck but expect to stay in Denmark tonight. Most of the day is spent on motorways where I pit my wits against inertia, hills and fast approaching cars. Despite having to lean forward to improve performance on hills, the experience is quite enjoyable because motorways work like symphonies. All due to the requirement to pass only on the left. If only we required that in Australia; but only on the right.
By evening we are about 40 km from Odense in Denmark. Tomorrow we will reach Lubeck but will request Thomasina not to use motorways so we can see more of rural Denmark.

Tuesday 28th July 2015 40KM west of Odense Denmark

A truck idling at 6.30am is our alarm clock. In Sweden, Norway and Denmark there is a pollution requirement that engines idle for no more than 1 minute. The driver seems unaware of that.
As we unlikely to get back to sleep, we pack up our bedding, have some fruit and start our drive. We will stop along the way for breakfast.
Scandinavia will have a special place in our hearts. Never before have we had so much rain. The rain theme continues with driving rain as we fly along the motorway. Our plan to use rural roads is thwarted when Thomasina proclaims that a route without motorways does not exist. Looking at the zoomed maps of the area, there certainly are not many to choose from.
As we enter Germany, we select non motorways as there are many more roads. The journey distance is the same but instead of 1 hour it will take 1.5 hours. Being sick of motorways, we opt for that.
It is still raining heavily and some of the roads are narrow and winding. Although they have speed limits of 100kph, 60 is about the maximum safe speed and lower on some sections. We hope a tractor does not come toward us.
By 1.30 our motorhome campsite is in sight. It is convenient but not very attractive. The rain has eased so I remove the bikes but it rains again so we wait for another break. After riding toward where we think the old town is, I ask a man up a ladder if he speaks english and he answers 'a little', the standard reply. I ask 'where is the old town'. He looks puzzled. I try "wo is der alte Stadt?'. He looks more puzzled then says "This is it". 1750 on the building opposite and he calls this the old town? As it happens 1750 is fairly new as we see buildings from 1500s nearby.
We lock up the bikes and walk around looking at gargantuan churches, not one but several, and buildings from various periods build on winding cobbled streets. All this while periodically sheltering from rain squalls.
Finally about 4.30 the sun peeks through and blue skys replace the dark gray ones. By this time we have walked back the two or three kilometers to our bikes and we cycle back to the van for a cup of tea.
If the rain stays away we might cycle a little more after dinner......
There`s a break in the raindrops so we venture out for a walk along the river nearby, only to have it curtailed by more rain. We watch a movie on the computer. Our friends, Margaret and Allan recorded four movies on a DVD and I had purchased a DVD player in Melbourne for the computer. With an unusual amount of forethought I tested it in Melbourne and discovered that Windows 8, along with all its other shortcomings, has no native DVD playing software, unlike previous versions. I had downloaded a player so we are already to go,
I plug in our sound system, close the front curtains and we settle in to our viewing chairs. The sound system is quite good and bassy parts of the movie shake the seats we are on. With the curtains it is like we are in an old fashioned theatre. The Full Wide Screen image format enhances the effect. Unfortunately the whole experience is let down by the postage stamp sized screen on our tiny laptop. But we enjoy the movie, "Johnny English Reborn" with Rowan Atkinson.

Wednesday 29th July 2015 Lubeck Germany.

A big day ahead. We want to cover the 750km to Offenburg today so we need to leave early. Unfortunately we don't. It is 9.30 before we get out of Lubeck.
Our exit is not helped by a closed motorway entry which Thomasina wants us to take. We drive on, resisting her attempts to do a U turn. We know that the motorway entry is closed so no use doing a U turn. We are going in the right direction and sooner or later she will realise that. After 10 km or so, we succumb to her efforts to change our direction. We are lead back on to the motorway and head back. We were going the wrong way.
The day is spent in the usual motorway waltz. In Germany, the waltz is even more choreographed than in Scandinavia. The open limits add an extra dimension as cars pass us at 60kph even when we are doing 110kmh.
The rain has not stopped. We go from sunny to driving rain two or three times. Each two hours we have a break and a walk around between showers. Althought the scheduled trip is 7 1/2 hours, with breaks it takes more like 9 1/2 and we eventually stop around 7.45 at a parking spot 50 km from Offenburg.
There is a pyramidal church which looks interesting so we walk around it before dinner. I am rather tired from the day's driving so am not up to much of a walk. One circuit is enough. By 10pm I am ready to sleep so we have showers and turn in.

Thursday 30th July 2015 50 km South of Offenburg Germany.

The rain seems to have passed. After looking inside the modern church with interesting chunky stained glass walls We get going by 9 with Offenburg only 50 km away. We want to visit Adi, our German mechanic to have lunch with him and change the oil; independent activities I should point out.
In 2011 we were lucky enough to have our timing belt break and be delivered to Adi by tow truck, having spent our first wild camp in a tow truck yard. We were there for 6 days while parts were ordered and delivered and established a good friendship with him.
In 2012 we visited again to cut out and replace the rear flooring of the van. At that time we suggested he and his wife, whom we had met that year, visit us in Australia but that had not come to pass.
By 10 we are parked in his yard and walk into his workshop. After a few seconds of non recognition, we warmly welcomes us after three years. We approach the subject of his not having visited us. It is his wife's birthday tomorrow and he is looking for a present. Maybe a visit to Australia. But we will need to convince her.
On the previous visits we had joined him and his brother for lunch in a cafeteria which is subsidised by a company but which allows others to use the facilities. We are due to have lunch with him at 12.30 and he has asked his wife to join us. His brother is elsewhere.
There is just enough time to do some shopping at Lidl which is only 150 metre away. By 12.30 we are ready to go to lunch.
As we enter the building, there is an altercation between a cyclist and a van driver. They look like they will go hammer and tongs unless someone steps in. I consider being that someone but the language barrier prevents me. Instead Adi steps in and the altercation is resolved. Adi explains that this is abnormal and in the 20 years he has been coming here for lunch, this is the first time he has witnessed anything like that. We are pleased about that.
During lunch, we firm up the Australia trip proposal. We get along well with Anna which helps her warm to the idea, despite the halting English and German. It is a good thing that we had not mentioned the 26 hour travel time because by the time she realises that, she is hooked (we hope). Next year August and beginning of September they will spend 3 weeks with us.
Returning to the workshop, Adi replaces our oil and inspects the brakes while Anna takes us to find some replacement carpet as the current one is a bit worse for wear, especially since I spilt 2 litres of motor oil on it from the side locker a year or two ago.
We had intended moving on this afternoon, but the brakes are kaput. We need new pads and rotors which Adi can get for tomorrow morning and fit tomorrow. At the same time he will balance the front wheels which cause a huge vibration above 100 kph. On motorways we can get up to 120kph but the wobble is quite unpleasant.
Adi and Anna want to take us up to a nearby Schloss for dinner. It is a 12th century castle with the odd renno over the years. It is in a major wine growing area and is high on a hill overlooking Strassbourg across the French border. Although it is a pleasant evening with no sign of rain, it is a bit cold. We have 4 plates which are like thin pizzas. Two vegetarian, one bacon and one salmon.
As we return to Offenburg, they take us to look at a hotel which was converted from an opulent house built mid last century. Although we see the gardens illuminated by lights. they look beautiful.
Returning to our home, we settle in for a night inside the workshop. We have spent more time in this workshop and yard over the years than any single other place so we are very familiar with it. We have a very warm and quiet sleep.

Friday 31th July 2015 Offenburg Germany

Awaking at 7.30, we arise to the tap tap tap of work in the workshop. Adi started at 7.
We go riding while Adi fits new pads and rotors. The brake fluid is also very sus so he changes that also. He is like the renowned German tradesman: he can be relied on to perfectly carry out the minimum required to get the maximum result. We are always confident that the job will be done perfectly.
On returning we are informed that the brake fluid needed replacement so he has done that too. By 12.20 all is finished and we are ready to leave. We feel a bit guilty about not having lunch with him again but explain that we need to be in Charroux and that is 750 km away. He understands. We will have a number of lunches and dinners next year in August, maybe.
We take to the motorways hoping to cover 300 km or so this afternoon. On the German motorways we cover kilometers quickly before crossing into France. The motorways in France are less developed and the drivers less regimented. Furthermore, in France before long the motorways devolve into single lane country roads rated at 90kph at best and with numerous villages where the limit is 50kph. Our rate of progress decreases dramatically. We are amazed how long it takes to cover a few hundred kilometers.
Our aim is to get to 399 km from Charroux but by 8pm we are still 440 km from Charroux. There is a wide parking area which will do for overnighting. There is a snack van some way from us and we hope that will not cause noise until late into the night. There is also a transport depot and we hope they are not a 24 hour operation. Being a Friday night, we are lucky and it is a quiet evening and overnight.

Saturday 1st August 2015 440 km from Charroux, France.

We leave by 8.30am and enjoy the leisurely drive through the French countryside. We love the French villages which despite or perhaps because of their unkempt appearance exude character. The age of the buildings is apparent and there are many ruins. This contrasts with Germany where buildings may be of similar age but their upkeep is at a far higher level and the undoubted character of Germany is quite different from that of France. But we also love German villages.
The day drags on and eventually we reach Charroux about 5.30. Despite 1.5 hours of breaks and rests along the way, it has been a long day`s drive to cover a short distance. That seems to be the way in Europe.
Mavis and Terry are out. The poor internet access we have had together with a lack of internet at their house, Le Bois d' Amour (the wood of love), has meant we have not announced our arrival although we had earlier suggested approximate dates. The up side is that we have not disrupted their plans.
John and Carol whom we met on previous trips may know where they are. We drive down to their house to discover they have moved to a house a few hundred meters from Mavis and Terry. Their daughter who now lives in their old house describes how to get there so we return, park the van at Le Bois and walk to find John and Carol.
The directions prove to be less than straightforward. The house next to the Swiss style villa has a silver Peugeot but is just a broken down timber garage, not a house. The house next to that is occupied by an elderly lady who speaks only French and at machine gun speed. She does mention 'derriere' which is the key to it all. But I assume she is just being French.
Some time later we discover that the garage in this street is attached to the house around the corner in the street at right angles and that is John and Carol's house. Property laws in France reflect the ancient borders set up centuries ago. If you buy a house here, you may find attached to it is a paddock in the middle of another person's holding. That's where helicopters come in.
Abandoning our attempt to locate Mavis and Terry, we set up camp in their yard. What a nice surprise it will be for them to return home and find Australian gypsies encamped. As it happens, we have had dinner, showered and gone to bed before they return from a dinner.

Sunday 2nd August 2015 Charroux France.

We have breakfast in the van, not knowing when Mavis and Terry arise, before joining them for coffee and tea.
They have to go out later which suits us as we have a few chores to do, including several loads of washing and fitting of some new carpet. Mavis and Terry have invited us for dinner when they return about 5.30.
Our chores progress nicely with a little time to sit in the very warm sun. This is what we have been waiting for after the rather cool weather of Scandinavia. I had cut the new carpet which we bought in Germany when we were at Adi's and am relieved to find it fits properly, with the minor problem that it is a bit short near the cab. Fortunately the joiner from the old carpet will correct that. The finished effect is very pleasing. In the shop it looked a bit bright but in place it is just right and matched our water container which we brought from Melbourne.
When Mavis and Terry and their 3 dogs return, we arrange to meet them for a drink before dinner. I have some wine from Australia purchased at Lidl which I warn may be better as bath cleaner. After tasting the dubious drop, I intend doing the Australian wine indusrtry a service by crossing out Australia when ever I see the wine for sale. Notwithstanding those comments, the bath did not benefit from the wine although I did not see what Mavis did with the bit left in the bottle.
As it happens, Terry and Mavis join us for dinner but their plates remain empty. Their lunch turned out to be a 5 course meal and they are replete. Still, we enjoy the evening and finish it off with a walk to the local cemetery with the dogs where we see a dramatic evening sky. Red sky at night is a sailors delight. Hopefully that will be true tomorrow.
Monday 3rd August 2015 Charroux France.
Again we eat "le petit dejeuner" in the van and join Mavis and Terry for coffee and tea. A little later John turns up and we have an enjoyable morning tea entertained by his Yorkshire accent and humour.
Morning tea drifts into a light lunch. The day is very hot. Although Mavis's thermometer shows 50 degrees C, we think that the ambient is high 30s. The gite is cooler so Ro spends time reading there.
We need to visit Civray and the insurance agent to pay this year's premium. It is 535 euro. Next is a little shopping. We have had some difficulty finding out if alchohol testers must be carried. In our first year we were told we needed them but then we were told the law had not been passed. In our second year we were told they were mandatory so we bought some from a pharmacy. As the original ones were past their use by date, we assumed we needed more this year. However enquiries at two pharmacies and two supermarkets left us confused as to whether we needed them and in each case they didn't have them anyway. The agent said we did so we asked at another pharmacy who didn't have them, a tobbacconist who the pharmacy said may have them but who didn't and finally a supermarket which did have them in the auto accessories section. The attendant did not consider we needed them. With such confusion, it seems a bit unlikely the police would enforce it but we are now safe.
We had a delicious dinner with Mavis and Terry before another walk around the cemetery with the dogs. This time, though, we dropped in on John and Carol to have an after dinner drink. We discussed, among other things, the likelihood of rain this evening. John assured us it was due to start at midnight but his assurance was cut short by huge drops of rain at roughly 10pm. We hurredly said goodbye as we had to rush back to close the roof vents on our motorhome. After a half kilometer run, we were quite wet. The rain stopped just after we closed the vents. Some minutes later Mavis and Terry arrived considerably wetter than us, although why was not clear as the rain had stopped just after we arrived.
Overnight it poured with much thunder and lightening. We were safe and snug in our Escargot de Wheels so it did not bother us.

Tuesday 4th August 2015 Charroux France.

Mavis has asked us to lunch with some English friends. We will pack up and be ready to move on after lunch.
Meanwhile, Terry wants to remove a tree and place the branches on a trailer. I am happy to help with that and promise to show him my special method of getting 4 or 5 times the normal amount on the trailer. It involves pulling the load down with load binders while more load is piled on and another load binder fitted. Then the buried load binder is released and used to pull down the next layer. The problem is there is only one load binder and no rope. Zounds! So we do it the tried and true way with multiple trips to the tip.
The lunch visitors are an ex- vice squad policeman and his wife, now expats living in France. We have an interesting discussion over lunch, then by 3pm were ready to leave. Just before we leave, Mavis offers us books from her stack of read ones. We have quite a stash also so swap ten or fifteen before we depart Charroux.
We are due to meet our friends Allan and Janice a bit further down south on Sunday so we have a few days to kill. There is a camp site on the way to where we will meet A & J so we will stay there tonight and maybe a few more days if it is a nice place. The temperature is expected to increase so the pool there will be welcome.
By 6.30 we arrive and select a spot under shade. It is a nice campsite in a quiet farming area. This will do us for a day or two.

Wednesday 5th August 2015 Rouffignac, France.

The campsite is owned by a Dutch couple and most campers are Dutch. Because English is widely known by the Dutch, we feel more connected than with French speakers who generally speak less English, or are less inclined to do so.
It is a day of relaxation in the shade and in the pool as the temperature reaches the mid 30s. The warm day is perfect for washing the Escargot and the bikes and me. Unfortunately the process makes the van and bikes cleaner but me dirtier. Diesel makes a fine soot which gets everywhere and does not wash off easily.
It is a good day for reading between cooling off in the pool. As the day cools later in the evening we go for a walk through some bush along shaded pathways. The quiet and peaceful countryside is seductive. Maybe one year we will visit the Dordogne area for most of our time. The temperature is lovely, the villages, it is claimed, are some of the most beautiful in France and the scenery is lovely. It is a nice area to visit.

Thursday 6th August 2015 Rouffignac France.

More of the same. Which is not any hardship.
In order not to be a complete layabout, I tackle the van's wiring. The pump has chosen not to turn off as it should so I investigate the cause. When the van is plugged into mains or into the inverter, the pump has full voltage and turns off as it should. However under house battery, it doesn't. Somewhere between the battery and the pump there is a voltage drop. There is a control box hidden below the sink which I have inspected a few times but have chickened out of tracing the wiring which over years had been tinkered with and altered without any wiring diagrams. I start drawing the circuit. The result looks more like modern art than a functional circuit. Picasso would have been envious.
Finally I have what may be an approximation to the control box but I still don't have the destination of the incoming multipin plugs. Next warm day maybe. Reassembling the control box, we still need to turn the pump off at the main switch whenever we use the tap but otherwise we are not excessively inconvenienced. I think a rewire is inevitable. But not today. Back to reading relaxing and swimming.
We are due to meet Allan and Janice Sunday about 1 1/2 hours from here but we are enjoying this campsite we will probably stay here until then.

Friday 7th August 2015 Rouffignac France.

Our supplies are getting low and we are ready to gently return to the tourist trail. A pamphlet we have restates the assertion that France`s most beautiful villages are in this area, but then again all pamphlets are full of superlatives. The camp manageress, who is a lovely lady, suggests we visit Limeuil, a medieval town about 25 km away. On the way we can pass by a Lidl which is convenient.
It is still hot but the trip to Limeuil is along narrow tree lined roads and is a beautiful drive. As always, on narrow winding roads every corner has a potential surprise coming the other way so concentration levels need to be high. Small cars don't pose any problem; SUVs and small trucks just require a moving well to the outer edge of the road; car carriers full of cars travelling at too high a speed are another matter. Around one corner we come across one of these. Unfortunately we are on the outer side and the road , after a small embankment, drops down a fairly steep slope. Each vehicle hugs the edge and we pass at 80kmh without incident. Which is good as any contact could have spoilt our day.
We reach Limouel about 1.30 and have lunch in the van with a cool offwater breeze blowing through the van. It is our usual French lunch of bagette and salads. One of my fondest memories of France is the bagettes which vary a bit but which are usually delicious. I love the hard crusts despite the slight jaw ache which accompanies eating them.
We cycle the half kilometer to the village which is medieval and built at the junction of two rivers on which canoeing is very popular. A road passes between the village and the river and two bridges, some hundreds of years old, cross the rivers at right angles. In the village the access is via steep winding alleyways similar to those we have seen in Croatia. We climb up probably 15 metres through the village but the temperature dissuades us from the further climb of 20 or 25 metres. It would be living well removed from what we are used to,
Descending again, we visit a garden outside the Mairie, or Mayor's house, where we sit under a cool vine observing the canooing, swimming and wading activity on the river. There is a small glass blowing factory with wares displayed but the 1200 degree C furnace and the hot day make browsing the wares less than comfortable.
Cycling back to the van, we retrace our path back to our campsite and enjoy a cool swim. The pool is an above ground one consisting of a large rectangular doughnut which is filled with water. This forms the walls for the pool in the middle. The doughnut walls are about 1 meter in diameter enclosing a pool of 20 metre by 6 metre. The water laps about 150 mm below the top of the doughnut but surprisingly not much water splashes out as people swim. The edges are very nice to lie on; not unlike a giant waterbed.
After dinner we have another swim in the half light but by now the air is cool and the water not quite warm enough to stay in for long. We shower as we return to the van for the night.

Saturday 8th August 2015 Rouffignac France.

Overnight it rains steadily with the odd clap of thunder and bolt of lightening. By morning the rain has diminished to drizzle which manifests as heavy drops from the oak trees under which we are camped.
We have decided to move on today partially because the camp does not accept cards and our stash of euros is just enough to cover the last four nights. We wait around until lunch time hoping the rain will stop and finishing books we are reading. The rain does not stop so we leave after a long chat with the Dutch camp owners with whom we strike a chord.
The road is the same one we traversed yesterday but without the semi trailer, for which we are thankful. As we reach a turnoff we note a sign to Sarlat, the town we omitted yesterday, so decide to travel via there. As we approach, there are queues of cars in the light drizzle. We have driven through some very pretty villages and this one is likewise if somewhat bigger. As we drive through we see little point in parking and getting wet so continue on to our destination, about 40km away.
The verdant, picturesque area is full of interest with buildings hugging rock faces,some built into the rocks and old railbridges towering above. Once again, we are reminded of the dryness of Australian continent.
About 4 we stop by a river designated as 'la Plage', the beach. It is not very attractive with derelict buildings and a non derelict, and loudly operating, pump. We had considered staying overnight here but rapidly change our minds.
Half an hour later we see a promising track off the main road. Investigating, it is perfect. A bit isolated from the road , nice and flat and with surrounding trees across a grassed plain.
It is still raining and intensifying. I spend some time tracing wiring as the pump is annoying us while Ro reads a bit. Then we reverse roles as I read and Ro cooks dinner of vegetables and salmon, which we always enjoy.
While we eat dinner we listen to Don Burrows then Norah Jones. Sitting in France, listening to enjoyable music with the rain pattering on the roof while we eat dinner ain't half bad.

Sunday 9th August 2015 near Pecestier France.

The pattering increases to a minor torrent which continues until early in the morning. The quiet night we had hoped for did not anticipate the noise of the rain. Ro wonders if we are going to float away.
A somewhat disturbed sleep means we are not away early. With the drizzle and wet underfoot, bed seems as good a place as any so it is 10.30 before we leave our campsite for the 30 minute drive to our final campsite where we will meet Allan and Janice. They swore last time that they would not holiday in England again because of rainy weather in summer. Looks like they struck out again in "sunny" south France.
We arrive at our camp site after the usual wrong GPS cordinates which sees us traipsing back and forth along a wet windy road until we abandon Thomasina and use the rather inspired method of reading the signposts which are atypically liberally provided.
It is still raining when we arrive and after registering, we encamp while the rain continues.
We are near Allan and Janice so we don raincoats and raise umbrellas and seek them out in their cosy hut. It is getting near lunchtime so they invite us to have open sandwiches with them. By 3pm the rain has stopped and we venture out to investigate the campsite which is quite extensive.
Despite the rain, the air temperature is not cold so when I come across the water slides which are now operating, I must try them out. There are a few tricks to not getting excessive amounts of water up the nose so my first few slides involve some spluttering until I master the technique.
The slide closes at 6.30 so we join Allan and Janice at the restaurant for dinner. I have steak which comes with salad and chips. Janice requests vegetables on my behalf but something is lost in translation when I get steak sans legumes sans salade. Reminiscent of our Belgium meal some years ago which was chips chips and more chips with a little veal as an afterthought.
Returning to our Escargot de Wheels, we have chocolate cups before parting then going to bed about 11.
Our campsite is very enjoyable. All we need is a bit of sunshine.

Monday 10th August 2015 Paulhiac South France.

Sunshine struggles through the clouds and finally, by 10.30, the sky is blue. We spend a day by the pool, watersliding and reading. Janice is reluctant to try the slide and by the end of the day has amassed reasons for avoiding it. Between our minor drownings, slide friction burns, sore feet from the stone path leading to the tower and some sore muscles, she has a multitude of reasons not to partake. But we continue despite the war wounds enjoying the 10 seconds of exhiloration on the serpentine slide and the 2 seconds on the straight slide.
The day is hot and we enjoy a day of swimming, reading and relaxing. In between those pleasant passtimes, I use a bit of time to continue tracing wiring in the van. The wiring diagram is still a mystery and we still have the unexplained voltage drop across the pump. It takes some time with seemingly little progress but it makes the visits to the pool and waterslide all the more enjoyable.
We provide lunch of bagette and pain au raisin which we eat at A & J's chalet as they have an outdoor table and it is too hot to be sitting in our Escargot.
We have been invited to Allan and Janice's for dinner and drinks before so around 7 we walk the 150 metres to their cabin, the last 50 metres of which is quite steep. They have cooked a steak dinner which is very nice.

Tuesday 11th August 2015 Paulhiac South France.

Another hot day sees us spending more time by the pool. However by late morning A & J have suggested we visit one of the villages nearby. They have a 6 month old Jaguar Estate, stationwagon like, which is a nice way to zip around the country roads to Monflaquin. Zip around may be an exaggeration as the narrowness keeps one alert for oncoming vehicles which we must squeeze by. It would be very nice to drive the car on a German autobahn, although who knows, I may not notice the difference between the Jag and the Escargot.
Monflaquin is a medieval town considered to be one of the best in the region. We park the car and walk up cobbled roads lined by buildings oozing the charm we have come to anticipate. Despite that anticipation, we don't tire of it. The textures and lack of small scale symmetry make every view a treat.
Walking up to the town square we find a lot of greenery contained within the surrounding cloisters some of which have vaulted ceilings and others old exposed timber beams. There is a crepery on one corner and we have buckwheat crepes filled with cheese and ham at a very reasonable price.
Returning to our camp about 3.30 we resume our tasks of swimming, sliding and reading until, exhausted after the effort, we have a dinner of vegetables in the warm evening.

Wednesday 12th August 2015 Paulhiac South France.

Activities which are provided by the camp are termed 'Animations' in France. This morning we have been promised classical music in the bar at 10.30. As we walk toward the bar, we realise the music eminates from large speakers around the pool. Before lunch, the pool is usually not busy so we get some lounge chairs in prime position with respect to the speakers. The volume us such that the whole pool area is flooded with music not much of which we regard as classical but pleasant none the less. There are some highlights which including a beautiful piece sung by a soprano, Arioso by Bach and Bolero. We enjoy one and a half hours in the open under a pleasantly warm sun shining through an overcast sky.
Because of the overcast sky, A & J suggest we visit another village called Biron. By the time we are in the car, the day is hotter than yesterday. The drive to the village takes 10 minutes but we spend 20 minutes trying to find the decimal point in the Jag's GPS in order to get there. Great time savers are GPSs.
The village services a castle which we explore. It is very big with many areas renovated over the past few hundred years for accommodation. There is extensive panelling from 17th century which is in good condition having been restored since the castle passed from private hands to the state in the late 1900s. Most rooms are huge.In particular there are two massive function rooms which must have been 30 by 20 metres with 8 metre ceilings. The heating bill would not have been small. We climb up numerous wide stone spiral staircases, explore balconies, visit attic rooms which are also huge and expose the roof beams, all connected by timber shear pins. Rarely does one get as close to this to the building techniques of medieval times.
It is close to 3 oclock when we seek a spot to eat. There is a small shop which offers lunch along with various grocery items. Our lunch is excellent value; a drink from the fridge, a plate of chease, two meats, tomato, cucumber and bagette, followed by a boule,(scoop) of icecream and all for 8 euros per person. I must look a bit undernourished because the proprietoresse offers me two scoops, which I readily accept.
Returning to our camp, we swim and read until late afternoon when we return to A & J's chalet for dinner. It is the warmest evening and we enjoy, apart from invisible biting insects(reminds us fo the midges in Scotland), sitting outside until 10.30 when there is a kareoke session at the bar. Melodious? sounds issue forth as we approach and continue for the hour we watch. There is a bit of dancing to entertain also. By 11.30 we leave and return to our sleeping accommodation. It is still quite warm but there is rain forcast. During the night we are presented with a fine display of lightening and heavy rain, which continues to the morning.

Thursday 13th August 2015 Paulhiac South France.

Our departure time we had decided would be determined by the weather. Because we were awake during the night due to heavy rain and thunder, we get up rather late. It is still raining so we will leave ASAP. We have 850 km to cover today and tomorrow to get the van back to Beaurainville. Our aim is to get as much covered today as possible.
We can choose Fastest route which takes us on tollways and will take 9 hours. Alternatively we can choose Avoid Motorways and this will take 14 hours. There is an intermediate route which will take 12 hours and uses some motorways and some rural roads. That is our option.
We leave by 10.30 after farewelling A & J. The roads we are taken on are sometimes very narrow but always enjoyable. The Dordogne region is very attractive and the villages enchanting. It is about 1pm before we reach our first motorway. A wrong turn, which we blame on Thomasina, takes us a short way on a tollway for which we have to pay. We don't know how much because the travel money card is swallowed, a loud belch eminates from the machine and the card is returned with no indication of how much has been purloined. The belch probably said it all.
Having paid a toll when we rejected a route involving tolls, we now find ourselves passing a village we passed a short time ago. Reminscent of 2011 when we passed the same point 3 times over some hours. For whatever reason we manage to get back on the beaten path and continue driving throughout the afternoon until we reach a point at 8pm when we want to stop irrespective of where we are.
Our path takes us close to Paris which a few years ago resulted in our being stuck in a major traffic jam. We had intended getting past Paris tonight to avoid that problem but tiredness has overcome us. Instead we will get up at 4.30am to join the rush to beat the rush.

Friday 14th August 2015 France.

We are both awake at 1.30 am so discuss leaving then. The thought is not appealing so we try to go back to sleep until 4.30. We manage 4.10 then get up and prepare to leave.
We will have breakfast along the way so we are on the road before 4.30. It is still dark which makes driving not so easy. We have 360 km to cover and the kilometers seem to drag by. It is around 6am that we start to encounter the motorway spaghetti of Paris which we are expecting. The idea that we would miss the traffic jams is correct but there is still plenty of traffic attacking from various angles, including a multitude of trucks. The number of vehicles making up the rush to beat the rush is large.
Motorways in Europe branch and exit and divide at a rapid rate and one must be set up well in advance and cope with vehicles adjusting their position prior to the feature. This is done close to the motorway speed of 110 or 120 kph. Thomasina gives us good warning mostly and we are thankful that we are not having to use maps. Unfortunately the whole exercise is done in dawn lighting which seems to go on for ever.
By 6.45 we are exiting the city environs and the motorways give way to more rural scenes. There is a large parking area where we have breakfast next to a fun park which, obviously, is closed now so we can take our time. Despite that, we are keen to get to tonight's campsite about 1 3/4 hours from Beaurainville. We will prepare the van there and leave for Beaurainville tomorrow about lunch time. We need to get the train to CDG at 5.30pm.
By 1pm we have arrived ready for some lunch. We might get in some reading in the sun this afternoon if the rain holds off. Unfortunately the overcast skys remain overcast with equal quantities of sun and rain, neither fully declaring themselves.
I am determined to fix a few faults before we depart. One window has broken struts and a day or two ago a fix presented itself to me in some moment of enlightenment. At this camp site we have mains power so I can use the grinder without compromising starting the motorhome. Soon the window is fixed although the longevity of the fix remains to be seen. Next is the pump which has been driving me insane, admittedly a short journey. Using an extension lead which I have canabilised in previous years, I check where the voltage drop is occurring and discover it is at a fuse next to the battery, A bit of judicious sanding and the pump is working. I can go home contented.
By 5 we decide a bit of packing is in order. Lidl has had 60cm masonary bits on special and obviously they cannot pass unpurchased. The first Lidl sold out in a matter of hours, confirming the need to purchase. A second Lidl, which we happen to visit at opening time due to our 4.30 am start, has a set. They are only 3.5 kg so if I leave half my clothes here I can take them home. I wont try them in cabin baggage because the incidents of pilots being threatened with 60 cm masonary drills are legend. I wouldn't get them past the boarding gate unless a dedicated DIY stewardess was on duty.
By 7 we are ready for dinner of leftovers. This, as it happens, is vegetables and salmon which we enjoy at the best of times. I have been watching the gas since our close call when we arrived when we ran out of gas jast after dinner and showers. The gauge says the tank is 70% full. The just cooked dinner says otherwise. The tank is empty. No problem this year but we need to find where we can get gas for next year.
By 9pm we are ready to turn in for an early night before our probably sleepless flight home. Now that the sun has given up for the day, the rain siezes its opportunity to make its presence known. Tomorrow is forcast to be clear which suits us as we may need to walk to the station. If it gets some rain out of its system tonight, that will make life easy tomorrow.

Saturday 15th August 2015 France.

There is plenty of rain during the night but it lessens by morning . My first job is to empty the waste tanks and thoroughily rinse them for wintering. Once they are reasonably clean, a bit of water and bleach will leave them fresh for next year. Our 100km drive to Beaurainville will slosh the bleach about to complete the job.
The drive to Beaurainville is 103 km and will take us 1hour 45 minutes, which seems like an inordinately long time. The main reason is the plentiful villages with speed limits of 30 or 50kph Between villages the limit is 90kph but those stretches may only be 500 metres. Speed limits for French villages are often not posted as the village name and a cross through the name on exiting are pseudo 50kmh limits. Unfortunately yesterday I missed a village sign and may have passed through a speed camera at 80 instead of 50. Hopefully not. Thomasina is invaluable in alerting me to the current speed limit and if I am over it. Although it is illegal in France, she could also alert me to known speed cameras. Why it is illegal is a mystery because there are signs warning when there is a camera.
Arriving at Beaurainville by 2pm, we are greeted by Jaqui and Steve, who are just going out. They understood our train was at 2.45 so were getting anxious for us. Se pay our 250 euro for next year's board then go to the river to use up so,e time before our train at 6.30.
Today is a bank holiday and there are activities everywhere. By the river there is a canoe clubhouse and there are dozens milling around to launch their canoes into the fast running stream. There is a slalom course throught the clear water and some proficient kayakers are improving their skills on the rapids. There is a walking track passing by the river so we get good viewing points.
By 4 we return to the Longhouse where we spread mattresses and bedding in the back of the van for airing in our absence before removing battery terminals and locking up for the year.
It takes 25 minutes to walk to the ststion along narrow or non existent footpaths. The roads have been blocked off and stall holders have set up bric a brack stalls selling mostly junk. That allows us to wheel our bags, 20 kg each, on the road which is easier than on the questionable footpaths. The wheels are ribbed and make quite a roaring on the road which ensures many glances but a clear path.
We are at the train one hour before departure and will have a 50 minute wait at Arras. The RER trip to Arras is uneventfull and rather slower than the TGV trip from Arras to CDG. The speed of the TVG is brought home when we travel next to motorways with cars travelling between 110 and 130 kph. The TVG flashes past at probably in excess of 180 kph.
At CDG we dash up to Air France checkin but are diverted to the automatic boarding pass printers. After doing battle with the machine, we are allocated seats 2 rows apart. It can be corrected at the baggage check but to get to that check, we have to queue for 15 minutes. The operator says the plane is "full up to pussies bow" or the French equivalent. "C'est impossible". So we stick with our separate seats. As the plane taxies away from the terminal, lo and behold, the seat next to me is empty!!! So after takeoff, Ro joins me.
It is a 12 hour flight which we don't look forward to very much. I choose to watch "Gravity" starring Sandra Bullock. The graphics are billed as wonderful and I would agree. But the technical wizzardry does not stop there. In the story, debris from a space station explosion threatens to destroy the space station Sandy is on. Houston says " expect to lose communications soon" and at that instant all the entertainment systems within a 2 seat radius go out! Now that's what I call a reality movie. Others must watch the movie throughout the flight because the entertainment system goes down on numerous occasions. Thankfully the plane doesn't.

Sunday 16th August 2015 Changi Airport Singapore.

We arrive at Changi about 6pm and have a few hour's wait until our Jetstar flight, billed as leaving at 21.00, actually leaves at 23.30. A hold up in Melbourne has put the airlines schedule back.
First thing to do is to get boarding passes. We are resigned to being placed in some convenient seat as everyone has probably checked in on the web. Imagine our surprise when we are offered Emergency Exit aisle seats!! Legroom!!! It might be that because Jetstar is a budget carrier who charges for choosing seats that the cheapskates who use them won't pay the extra for prebooking. Let me point out that we, as Air France superior passengers , are not among those cheapskates, although , admittedly, when we are cheapskate Jetstar users we won't pay the extra to prebook seats.
We have agreed to purchase some duty free spirits and end up with our combined quata od 4.5 litres which will be delivered to us at the boarding gate. This is good as we don't have to lug 8 or 9kg of bottles around. Hopefully they will not check our carry on baggage as, with the spirits, it will be greater than the combined 15 kg allowed. Maybe they will ignore that requirement for us Superior Air France passengers.
By 10.30 we have assembled with everyone else in the gate lounge. The aircraft at the gate does not seem big enough for everyone in the lounge. Despite my reservations, everyone gets aboard and we leave at 11.30.
The Emergency Aisle seats are great. I can stretch, standup and do all the things that real people, who aren't in the other economy seats, can do. In future I could be pursuaded to pay the extra $2.50, or whatever it is, to prebook these seats.

Monday 17th August 2015 Melbourne Australia.

We arrive at Melbourne around 9.30 after another aircraft has been a bit slovenly in leaving our gate.
There is a long queue of people clearing customs but us special people with Australian e-passports bypass the queue, thumbing our noses to those who are foolish enough not to be Australians (or without e-passports). Our bags arrive safely and we make our way to Skybus as our plans for getting home have altered.
It is nice to be back home in familiar surroundings. Before long we are on a Met bus and by 11am we are at our front door. Europe 2015 is over.

Central Australia April 2015

marfee7 — Mon, 22 Jun 2015 16:56:00 GMT

An Outback Ode

There was movement in the outback for the word had passed around
That the folk from way down south were on the move
They would come to do the Old Ghan track and the locals there had found
That to leave was best - they'd nothing they had to prove.
All the tried and noted drivers from the suburbs near and far
Had gathered at the start point with their crew
Well perhaps not every driver had turned up with his car
The final tally was actually only two

There was Mark, who'd leave his pile when in his car he went
Sideways loosing traction on every tyre
He'd modify his driving after that renouned event
In part to mollify his passenger's ire.
He drove a Landrover Defender, a really good 4 wheel
And for outback work, a vehicle at it's peak
Maybe a little noisy and possibly not well sealed
But OK if you didn't breathe or speak

And Judy of verbal overflow came down to even up the score
No better driver ever took the wheel
She'd bought her Toyota from a Rotarian years before
And most would agree it really was a steal.
And on the back of her powerful car
There was an off road van she towed
None of this rough tenting for her
She brought her own abode.

And there was a girl named Jelte from a land distant and exotic
She was here to learn ; by Rotary subsidised
What she learned is that Ockers are not refined or quixotic
Though she had gained a slight Ozzie accent which she prized
She was tall and fair and slender just the sort who won't say die
There was courage, self reliance and all the rest
Not the type to go on a bender though I imagine she might try.
But ready to deliver on any test.

But still not yet an Aussie and one would doubt her power to stay,
Mark, the leader, said" That girl will never do
For a long and tiring drive, young lass, you'd better stay away
These roads are far too rough for such as you."
So she waited sad and wistful, only Neil he stood her friend
"I think we ought to let her come " he said
"I warrant she'll be with us when she's needed at the end
If we can keep her awake and see she's properly fed"

So she went.They started out from Melbourne town
With 700 k the first day done; no worry
And to the Pink Lakes took a dirt track down
Through dirt, rocks, mud and slurry
Little pink was seen in the lake so named
Still they gazed in awe and wonder
Pink Lakes is what the sign proclaimed
Though "Bollocks" was scribbled under.

And soon they reached the Murray wide
Mark and Judy looked and reckoned
A deep river crossing seemed suicide
But still the challenge beckoned
They perched above the steep descent
The sole voice of reason: Rosemary
Then both plunged down success hellbent
Down - ever down - down to the waiting ferry.

The first night was spend at Loxton when
Some rapid and smoothe talk by Mark
Assured a cabin was let to them
With Judy encamped by dark
An invite to sup was billed as the deal
In a cabin! Some food! What a treat
But not a hearty and wholesome meal
There was nothing but pizza to eat.

After sleep the next day's destination: Roxby Park
Where a renowned and dreaded 4 wheel track
Was there for the taking; a real lark
And only a k or two back
On a road strewn with bolders; potholes by the ton
The drivers resigned to their fate
But the first terrifying challenge was won
When they made it unscathed through the gate.

The track was defeated with nerry a scratch
Not a battle - merely a tiff
Sure - there was the odd rough patch
But who needs the car's second diff
So they continued using all their outback nouse
They were due to meet a third car : the final link
At the famous Oodnadatta Pink Roadhouse
Pink Lakes! Bah! My giddy aunt - that structure's what I call pink

Ian and Jenny left home one day late lets say
Ian drove like a man possessed
Then passed the other two on the way
A little speeding later confessed
So now with the group completely assembled
They continued in convoy formation
Past wreckage and ruins which junk art resembled
No wonder we're such a proud nation

Twas now the chinks showed in the van - with respect
To it's strength and its off road agility
Bits littered the road for Ian to collect
The van suffers from high scrapability
But they continued with fixes and patches each day
A tape here a screw there and such
Nothing too major I'd just have to say
But no brakes was a little too much

But a major hurdle occurred on a little used track
They changed a wheel to stop a tyre from hissing
But it was not the tyre this time that was flat
The whole bloody wheel had gone missing.
With the van on an angle now they could see
That disaster could well be nigh
This time they were really well up the creek,
Thank Christ creeks up here are bone dry.

As they all scratched their heads, it was Mark who knew,
He dug a hole into which went the jack
Up went the van and in a moment or two
On went the spare from the back
Over the next 20 k with the bumps and the ruts
They checked both the wheels - so don't scoff
What's that you say "Why didn't they check all the nuts
Before the wheel actually fell off?"

It's 100 kilometers to reach Pernie Bore
An old hotwell now long since cemented
So to see it takes an hour or more
Which makes sense - for the totally demented
But a lovely warm swim in the Dalhousie Spring
Is worth the effort to brave the rough path
Though the clouds of red dust when they drove that they'd bring
Makes it more like flaming mud bath

Last on the adjenda : an Old Ghan spike
From the old track long since demolished
They'd read about them on Facebook Likes
And they wanted one mounted and polished
They cast about looking under rocks and rubble
They searched till their eyes burned like fire
But they needn't have bothered to got to the trouble
There was one stuck right there in the tyre

So really these were the highlights
The rest was just bumping no end
After 8 days and with Alice in sight
They were not far from right round the bend.
So if it's my outback knowledge that you seek
Advise that you know you can trust
While you may not end up in that well known dry creek
You won't see much outback for dust.

Now I heard some laughter and chortling here
Some mirth now that only natural
But I can tell all now: I was there
And this ode is mostly all factual.

2014 Odyssey (how od remains to be seen )

marfee7 — Tue, 3 Jun 2014 14:43:00 GMT

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.

A Wet Start to 2013's Adventure

marfee7 — Sun, 9 Jun 2013 02:39:00 GMT

Friday 31 May 2013 Tullamarine, Melbourne, Australia.

Well, all is ready for this year's adventure........ apart from the fact that, as per previous years, our this year's tenants have decided to break their lease. And as a parting gesture have informed me that a fire main has been leaking for a month. But the adrenalin rush of the prospect of no income to pay for the holiday is sure to put a pleasant edge to our journey.

Nevertheless, we are all packed with downsized travel bags bulging at the seams. Year 1 we took two bags in which we could have camped. Year 2 we took one such bag and a half sized bag. This year we have two half sized bags and we have already selected our paper carry bags for next year.

All my techie stuff goes in the hold and I don't even alert the baggage guy to the goodies to be found. I learned my lesson two years ago so we pass effortlessly through the obstacle path to the aircraft. This year I have not even attracted the attention of the bomb squad and they don't even want to sniff my clothing. Things are looking up!

After an interminably long taxiing manoeuvre, the pilot reverts to his original plan to fly to Singapore and we are airborne.

We are flying Jetstar to Singapore then Air France to Paris. Unfortunately the onboard entertainment is non existent unless you hire a portable player. Why would one fly a budget airline then waste money paying for an entertainment system? But Jetstar are quite clever. As an inducement to hire the unit, the stewards and stewardesses are as boring as all get-out so you can't even get free entertainment enjoying their antics, as we had done in previous years. Hopefully Air France, who include inflight entertainment, will provide entertaining staff.

So until we get to Changi I will just snooze while Ro continues with her research of sights to see in Britain.

We arrive 8 hours later at about 5.40pm local time and disembark without incident. It is raining heavily and dark. We are 40 minutes late which is good as that means 40 minutes less wait until our Air France flight at 11pm.

Changi airport provides a sight seeing bus to fill in the time between flights but they only run during daylight hours. They also have two or three themed gardens so we intend to look at those, if they are lit and the rain eases.

Unfortunately the first garden which has all types of cactii is also a designated smoking area so the smell is not that of cactii or garden bouquetes. The smell lingers despite the Singaporean penchant for cleaners who collect any litter before it hits the ground. The smell, lack of lighting and rain dissuades us from spending much time in the garden so we instead take the skytrain shuttle to another terminal to seek out the butterfly garden. Unfortunately this is also a designated smoking area and, in any case, the butterflies have turned in for the night so we see none. But our efforts have chewed up some time and we have not too long to wait for our flight.

It is an A380 and we are in the stern section of the plane, near the spiral stairs. By 11.30 we are in the air for the rather arduous 12 hour flight. However the entertainment system is good and we manage a few catnaps between watching movies, climbing the spiral stairs and very frequent clock watching.

Saturday 1^st June 2013 CDG Airport, Paris, France

We arrive at CDG at 6am and commence battle with the French signage. We have to collect our baggage from carousel 30. Signs lead us down stairs to the baggage exit then, in the fashion to which we have become accustomed in France, stop. We remember the stewardess talking about T-der-er or T2E to the initiated and there is un petite suggestion we should take the shuttle train. Wherever we go in CDG we find people discussing what the cryptic signs may mean and the shuttle is no exception. We alight when we see T2 and follow signs to the baggage exit. However they also stop when one sign shows to continue forward to 2E and the reverse of the sign shows to go backward to 2E. A few more questions of unhelpful help desk attendants and we finally clear boarder control and collect our bags which miraculously have followed us to Paris.

Now for the TGV. Unfortunately TGV signs are non existent but drawings are plentiful. We reach the area where we know from past experience that platform numbers only appear 15 minutes before departure. However there is a Nord Access and a Sud Access and both have the same platform numbers. Whether this is because they are two ends of the same platform or not is not clear. To make matters worse, there are signs on both which show the platform number but not the access to use. Finally we locate a sign which does show the access and platform number so we are happy we will find the train. This turns out to be a good thing as the train only lingers for one minute or so before leaving. Fortunately we are aboard so now we can relax.

At Poitiers we scramble for the door and are disgorged with our luggage with the sea of departing passengers who stream onto the platform. We patiently wait our turn to enter the elevator, having learnt two years ago that struggling up the stairs is unnecessary.

As we exit we see our Escargot d’Wheels parked 100 meter or so along the street with Terry standing nearby. It transpires that Mavis and Terry’s Land Rover has damaged its gearbox so the van is the only transport available.

It has fared well over winter, the engine starting first turn. But there is mold on the ceiling. Nothing that a bit of bleach won’t remove. We are reminded of our beloved boat where winter did similar things to its ceiling. Bedding is a bit odiferous also but a wash will fix that.

Arriving at Charroux, we have coffee with Mavis and Terry before travelling about 30 km to a small town where we are to have lunch. Every year, many towns have a lunch, a close approximation to street barbeques in Australia. The lunch is not wonderful but the ambience is enjoyable.

After lunch we return to Charroux to start preparing for our trip. I have 4 or 5 five minute jobs. The first is a new outside light. In less than 2 hours I have the job 60% complete. It must be the holiday atmosphere which improves my efficiency so much. In Oz, a five minute job takes a minimum of 4 hours.

By 7 pm we are ready to sleep. However, despite a largish lunch, we have a light dinner with Mavis and Terry and return to our accommodation by 10 pm. We have been awake for over 40 hours with just a few catnaps on the plane so getting to sleep is easy.

Sunday 2 June 2013 Charroux, France

I am back to 5 minute jobs by 8am. During the day I complete another 2 five minute jobs. I am on fire. I also help Terry with his automatic gates which have been otherwise for some years. The circuit board is of dubious quality and also showing its age. One track is missing so I bridge that with some wire, reconnect the power and try the remote. Operation is spasmodic at best but improves as we cycle the gates back and forth. Well, not actually the gates as the shear pins were broken years ago when the system stopped working. One circuit is for gate lights. However buzzing on the board due to arcing seems to provide more light than the lamps whose bulbs are broken.

I leave Terry to fix the shear pins and explain that warranty for work done will only be considered if the gates are sent to Melbourne should there be a problem.

Sunday night we have a barbeque with John and Carol whom we know from the previous two years and Lauren, their grand daughter. There is much frivolity and we have a very enjoyable night. We go to bed about 10 pm again happy to sleep.

Monday 3 June 2013, Charroux, France

Monday dawns cloudless and promising to be warm. Summer has got to a slow start but some warm weather is expected over the next few days. After another job or two and we are ready to leave by 3 pm.

First some sustenance for both us and the van. The van has a rather bland diet exclusively consisting of diesel but that allows easy catering. Our diet is not hugely less bland but does involve some more extensive purchasing at our preferred provider, Lidl. The nice thing about Lidl is that we know where things are and the choice is less extensive. Extensive choice when you are unfamiliar with the language is not a good thing. 25 types of Lait at Lidl is far better than the 125 types available at Carrfour.

We want to head toward the west coast then travel via the coast to Cherbourg for our ferry trip to Ireland on 9^th June. We see a campsite along the way so head for that.

During our time at home we purchased some new maps for the GPS. Somewhere during the process Thomasina had a gender redefinition and is now Thomas. Thomas expresses far less attitude than did Thomasina, yet we feel that one of our party is missing. Despite that, Thomas does a good job and delivers us through scenic roadways to our campsite.

The managers are delightful and both prioritise showing us the resident nesting Hirondelles (birds) in the shower block before attending to any paperwork. They speak absolutely no English so there is a lot of good humoured lack of understanding. Nevertheless we part with 22 euro which includes free wifi and spa.

The free wifi inspires us to check our emails. Bad choice. Very bad choice. The first email is from a tenant advising us that the property had flooded. There is an unpleasant feeling of helplessness being 12000 km away from that sort of news. However, reading the email at 8pm means it is 4am in Australia and ringing the tenant at that time may be counterproductive. Instead I put the alarm on for 1 am and go to bed for 3 hours. At 1 am I will ring Australia and sort things out. Nevermind that my brain won’t be working and I am 12000 km away.

But life goes on and one way or another the world is not going to end.

Tuesday 4^th June 2013 La Ronde, France

Thus a 7am we go for a nice hot spa after a chilly night and during the morning soak up some welcome sun.

By 11 am we are ready to continue our journey. Ile de Re, which had captured Ro’s imagination, is on the coast directly opposite where we have camped and about 1 hour away. As usual we specify to avoid motorways and Thomas takes us through quaint villages and down one horse tracks, dodging farm implements and hugging potholy verges as trucks pass. Some roads are so undulating that we are again reminded of our boat. It is fortunate that neither of us is susceptible to being seasick.

We pay our 8 euro toll and cross the 3 km bridge onto Ile de Re. We had entered a randomly selected point on Ile de Re for our destination and as luck would have it, there is an aire (motorhome stopover area) where we finish our trip. We will stay here the night and explore the island on our bicycles as it is very flat and has many bicycle paths.

Once set up we go for a walk along the wide flat beach. The sea looks beautiful and the sand is fine and white, with some rocky outcrops. Quite reminiscent of Australian beaches.

We return for our usual lunch of bread, salad and ham then set off for a bike ride. The island is about 30 km by 5 km but very flat. Riding is easy and we explore the streets of holiday villas which are packed in dense villages across the island. The Tourist Information Centre provides a bike map. We ride a bit further and find a beach on which we lie soaking up the sun for a few hours. The sea is very cold but the sun is warm without being too hot.

Riding back to our Escargot, we settle in for the night. Being fully self contained is great. For some reason, the water pump seems to suffer less voltage drop this year so our showers are better, which is very nice.

Wednesday 5^th June 2013 Ile de Re, France

Next morning we set off to explore the island. We saw a church last night which we would like to look at. However as we approach, a bus approaches and we need to squeeze against a wall to let the bus pass. Unfortunately there are some vehicles behind so an impasse results. The bus can’t move. We can’t move. The van behind can’t move. And there is a car behind him. The female bus driver is good humouredly gesticulating that we can’t go down the road she is in. There seems to be no reason why and the van behind wants to go the same way. We try reversing a bit but the van behind stops us. He moves a bit. We move a bit. He moves some more. Eventually everyone disburses and we give up on seeing the church. We drive a bit further down narrow streets with what we think are do not enter signs abounding. Eventually we find a car park but a local informs us in French that camping cars can’t park there. We give up and go to see a Phare (light house).

The light house is very impressive. Built in mid 1800s, it is an imposing building. It seems to be a significant tourist attraction but because it is early in the season and early in the day, the area is mostly vacant except for shop keepers lethargically preparing their premises for a mediocre tourist turnout. There is also a tower from the mid 1600s which is significantly overshadowed by the lighthouse. Nothing worth investigating is open so we walk around the site then continue to Saint Martin which is the main town on the island.

Camping cars are persona non gratis on this island. We end up at an aire where we can dump our waste products and fill with water. We do this and then intend to park and remove our bikes for a more acceptable tour of the city. Unfortunately, as I reverse into a parking spot, watching my newly installed 7” LCD colour reversing system with the dual inputs and reversible images, I fail to see a car marginally outside the camera’s field of vision and a loud bang halts our progress. The car is an aging Opel which is somewhat worse for the wear but more so where my bumper hit it. The tail light lens is broken and there is a slight crease in the hatch back. We leave a note including our registration number and our email address and an apology in English. Time to leave this idyllic, well almost, island.

We head for a campsite near a quaint village named Piriac sur Mer. We should arrive by 6pm. Along the way we stop for lunch by a river next to which is built a tall building which is a bit confusing. It could be a commercial building from the 1600s or 1700s but it has an ornate terrace, staircase and balustrade. The roof is in poor repair, attempts having been made to repair it with galvanised iron. It would not be inexpensive to replace! But it epitomises a lot of what we like about France.

We continue on to our intended campsite and are fortunate to get a site there. It is not actually open yet but there are some people there and they welcome us. When we say “Parlez vous Anglais” we are answered by an English voice. When I say we are Australian, he answers “so I hear”. How would they know we were coming when we only knew 4 hours ago? But he is referring to my Oz accent which he recognises from having lived in Adelaide for 4 years. Ro is ecstatic to hear an English speaking person.

We settle in and join them for pre dinner drinks before having dinner and going to bed about 10pm. It is odd that it is still daylight then.

Thursday 6^th June 2013, Piriac-sur-Mer, France

The morning dawns cloudless. It promises to be a warm day and we spend the morning collecting emails, making a skype call or two and preparing to leave. Around lunch time we drive to Piriac sur Mer, “little city of character”, as the French call it. This has to be one of the best villages we have visited. The houses are well kept. There are no unsightly electricity wires or poles and the streets are well paved in sympathetic materials. Buildings are highlighted with splashes of colour and many have flower boxes or walls with cascading greenery. Some houses have small plots in the bitumen road from which bushes grow. Street lights are old world type lanterns set on ornate wrought iron brackets supported on the houses, but with no visible wires. It is picture postcard material.

We have been advised that the icecream shop sells glace to die for. Maybe that is saying something about the cholesterol content but we succumb and agree. We eat our glaces by a lovely little church then continue our walk around the village. About 2pm we return to our Escargot and make tracks for our next camp site.

We drive for 2 hours and after some prompting of Thomas, arrive at our campsite….. which is closed. But the gate is open so we enter and ring a bell on the office. A few minutes later a couple arrives who speak no English and confirm that they are not open as yet. “Can we just park here overnight” we say in hand gesticulations, a bit of French and a bit of English. We hoped to convey that we needed no power, ablutions or anything in particular. However “No Insurance” is common to all languages. Lawyers rule the world.

So we decide to decamp, although strictly speaking we had not camped at all, to the Presqu’ile de Crozon (Crozon Peninsula) instead which is about 1 ½ hours away. As darkness descends so late, this will be no problem. Our ETA is about 8pm.

We drive down the narrow roads to which we have become accustomed. We have observed before that European drivers are unphased by the narrow roads and many career recklessly with little concern for the available space. One such driver passes us at breakneck speed but miscalculates our separation and our rear vision mirrors thud together. There is no damage to our mirror and, despite our stopping to wait for a driver to return if he so cho0ses, no one returns so we continue. Presumably such events are common and are par for the course. Mirrors avoid far more damaging collisions.

Crossing on to the Peninsula, we traverse a spectacular curved suspension bridge, le Pont de Terenez, which has been built next to the old suspension bridge. Continuing on, we reach Argol where we hope to find a camp site. But there is none as it is a tiny, sleepy town. I am fairly tired from driving by now and don’t want to drive much further but we think there will be something at Morgat, 12 km away.

But there is nothing evident there either!! Wearily we search the roads for any sign of a campsite. Finally we see a sign “Campings” which we follow and find Le Pins….. which seems closed also. But the boom gate is open so we will stay there, open or not. A quick walk around the property, a quick meal of vegetables and we bed down for the night.

Friday 7^th June 2013,Morgat

After a very quiet night’s sleep, I hear a vehicle or two pass our van. I walk to the office and the door is open. A little later we visit the office and discover that the camp is open but there are no other tourists resident. This is a shame because we discover the showers were quite good and we missed out on them!

However there is Wi-Fi available and we purchase ½ hour. Checking our emails we are dismayed to discover last night in Melbourne was part of the wettest start to June on record and our tenant who flooded last week flooded again last night. This does not make for an enjoyable holiday experience. I spend the next hour talking to people in Melbourne about what can be done. To say it is distracting would be a significant understatement. But I am fortunate to have some wonderful helpers who assure me all is under control and no longer under water. Lets hope it stays that way.

By 10 am we are ready to return to Morgat. But the rain discourages us from cycling out to the peninsula so instead we continue on for 10 km to a biscuiterie where they make some very tasty morsels we are informed. In fact it turns out to be a very nicely appointed tourist wares shop with the baking area in one corner behind glass. The test taste morsels are quite alluring and we buy a gateau about 20 cm diameter and 15 mm thick for 10.5 euro which we are told will last for a week and a bottle of apple cider.

Our next interest is , indeed, a cider making farm which the brochure says will be open from 2pm to 4pm today. Unfortunately that turns out to be wrong so instead we return to Argol as we think there is a cider museum there. This turns out to be wrong, too. We are seeing a lot of countryside but not many attractions. Fortunately the countryside is so attractive that the lack of attractions does not matter.

We need to be in Cherbourg by 6pm Sunday so we look for two camp sites spaced appropriately. We see one at Bourseul which is near the top of Brittany and head for that. Stopping by the spectacular bridge we crossed on the way in, we take a photo or two and have afternoon tea. We eat some of our gateau, then some more. We suspect the one week shelf life will not be a problem.

By 7pm we arrive at our camp site. As we check in, something seems familiar. “Do you have otters in your lake?” I ask. The affirmative answer confirms that we stayed here in August last year but had thought the camp site was lower in Brittany.

It starts raining just after we set up so we settle in for the night. Because the camp showers are some distance away we shower in the van. We discover next morning that once again we have missed hot, untimed showers. Water seems to be conspiring against us this year. Further evidence is presented by drips of water around the front window which wet the mattress. Some sealing is required tomorrow. What have we ever done to water?

Saturday 8^th June 2013,Bourseul, France

The morning is dry so we put the mattress out to dry and do some siliconing. The morning is spent writing emails and making a skype call or two.

By lunchtime the mattress is dry enough to reassemble the van. We do that then visit a town nearby called Jugon-Les Lac (jugon on the lake). It is also labelled a “little city of character”, as was Piriac-sur-Mer but it is not as little and arguably of lesser character; but full of character none the less. We walk around various buildings and are captivated by the roofs. Perhaps it should be labelled “little city of captivating roofs” to distinguish it from all the other “…. of character”s.

We visit a shop for some bread. It sells mostly processed meats so we try another where we get some delicious custards which we eat with tea in the van. Then we visit a charity shop and there on a bookshelf is the book of the documentary I watched two years ago on the plane about the sinking of the Titanic. I found the documentary interesting so would like to read the book.

After exploring alleyways and small bridges crossing streams flowing from the lake, we drive along what we hope will be a road by the lake. However we have discovered that few roads in France capitalise on the water views available and this road is no exception. We try the road on the other side of the lake but suffer a similar fate.

Returning to our campsite we visit our otter dam. We whisper to avoid frightening the little creatures. Maybe the young otters of last year have offspring themselves. We hear a splash nearby and proceed to a bench seat. Sitting quietly we can see an otter opposite in the water. But he/she disappears and we see no other sign. It has been an otterly useless excursion, but enjoyable.

It is 8pm and it is still as light as it would be at 4pm at home. The temperature is quite pleasant, if somewhat cool. Ro does one of her amazing meals created in miniscule space. Life is good. We retire at 11 as light finally starts to fade.

Sunday 9^th June 2013,Bourseul, France

The morning is quite cool. There is not much point waiting here as the sun is not going to appear and we need to leave before 1pm for our ferry trip from Cherbourg. After breakfast we need to empty some tanks and fill some others and while filling we spray water on the front window to confirm the leak has been fixed. It has.

By 10.30am we leave with Thomas instructed to take us to the ferry terminal, avoiding motorways as always.

We have ¼ tank of diesel so will need some more before we arrive at the ferry. At Dinan we find a Carrfours but as it is Sunday, we must use a credit card for the purchase. Unfortunately none of Travel Card, Master Card nor Amex is accepted. Lucky we were not near empty as has sometimes been the case before. A bit of random driving around and we find a service station with an attendant and we can buy our fuel.

As always we are taken down local, narrow roads which are beautiful, verdant and picturesque. The French buildings never fail to enchant us and the churches, whatever their levels of grandeur, are all amazing.

As luck would have it, when we want to stop for coffee we are on a motorway and there is nowhere to stop which is at all pleasant. By leaving the motorway we hope to find a suitable spot. Where we do exit, we have a choice to go left or right. We choose right and soon are in the hubbub of a small town which has a very large church which is packed with worshipers. Before getting too embroiled in a traffic snarl, we exit and go down the left road. Nothing much there either so we end up stopping at a roadside stop no better than on the motorway. Such is life.

By 3pm we are in Cherbourg. Signs lead us to the ferry terminal but we do not immediately see the Celtic Ferries sign. After a bit of toing and froing we locate the queue we should be in and park behind 10 or so other cars, campervans, caravans and motorbikes. I walk toward the head of the queue and see a motorhome with IRL on it. I assume the inhabitants will speak English so ask what the go is, but perhaps in a more formal way. They are very friendly and pick up that I am Australian, where they have relatives living. After a 10 minute chat I leave with a camping book of Ireland and a tip or two on what to see and where to stay.

Returning to the van, I note a motorbike with two rugged up people bracing themselves against the wind. Ro has prepared some lunch but it seems wrong for us to be snug in our van while they are cold outside. The lady of the pair, who looks to be a similar age to us, is sitting on a post near our door. I suggest she and her partner may like to sit in our van until boarding time. She is Irish and very appreciative but explains they have been in the Austrian Alps in 4 degree conditions and this is positively balmy. Not to my thermostat. We have a chat about motorbikes and other things but they remain outside.

The queue starts to move expect for one questionable vehicle with a Brazillian Coffee sticker on it. Where the driver is we don’t know. In the usual European fashion, no one is bothered and the two queues merge into one to pass the unoccupied van.

We drive onto the ferry and take our overnight bag with us up steps to Reception. Our cabin is an outside one with two single bunks and a bathroom. It is quite austere but functional enough for our 18 hour trip.

Facilities include a cinema, with no films which appeal, a restaurant, a bar and a wifi area, in which the wifi is not working. There are also various TVs dotted about and some game machines. We will probably read for most of the voyage when we are not sleeping.

The crossing will be calm, the captain announces. We clear Cherbourg harbour by 7.15pm, passing a seawall with ruined fortresses either end, probably built in the 18^th or 19^th century as they are too dilapidated to be WWII emplacements. The building materials also look older than then.

When we checked in, there seemed to be no record of our booking so it looked like we were allocated an overflow area cabin. On deck 5 are the restaurants and bars and behind then a large number of cabins. Behind that are the engines….. and the engine vibrations. At the bow, on the deck above are many more cabins and, had we known, we would have asked for one of those. There seems to be a lot less vibration there. Perhaps, like a mother’s heart, the throb of the engines will lull us to sleep.

About 7.30 pm we go to the restaurant for dinner. It is a bit Coles Cafeteriaish but the food is generous and tasty. Ro has haddock, the taste of which is not familiar, but enjoyable. I have chicken which turns out to be curried, not my favourite.

After dinner, we play cards in our cabin for a while then walk around the deck until the cold wind gets to us. But later in the evening we go out on deck to watch the sunset AT 10.15PM!!!

A bit later I go to the bar to listen to a good folk singer with a guitar and later Ro joins me. The singer performs with 70’s type songs for 2 hours without break and we leave about midnight while he is still singing.

The vibrations do not exactly lull us to sleep but we get used to them and sleep reasonably well.

Monday 10^th June 2013,English Channel/Irish Sea

We are woken by an announcement that breakfast is available. A little more snoozing and some workers start grinding outside our cabin! Time to get up and go to the restaurant.

There are various combinations of Irish Breakfast, mini Irish Breakfast, Continental Breakfast and Single Items. Unfortunately the Continental Breakfast which I choose is not straightforward. If you have Yoghurt, you cannot have fresh fruit, or cerial. If you have a Danish, you cannot have cerial. If you have the fruit salad, that is a single item. Ro chooses porridge, a single item, which is easier. We approach the cashier with trepidation wondering how it will be priced. If we hadn’t selected the banana it would have been 4.90 euro, but instead it is 28.42 euro. Not quite, but confusing none the less.

After breakfast we go to check wifi. It is now working but because everyone was waiting, it is now overloaded and no passwords are available. Try again in another hour. Perhaps a bit of reading might be in order. We have our own books, we need no password, we don’t have to select between Sherlock Holms and Advanced Midwifery but not Geodesic Domes of the Cayman Islands ; so our books will do.

As it happens we go for a promenade instead. The air is warmer than last night so we venture to the top deck where a helipad is located. Given that this is a budget line it is unlikely that passengers will be boarding or alighting by helicopter so we can promenade with impunity. We happen upon the Irish couple with whom I had spoken in the vehicular queue. We have a short chat which is interrupted by an announcement calling for the occupants of cabin 633. “That’s us” say our friends. “Better go and find out what we have done wrong”. What is the likelihood of that? We start chatting and out of 100s of passengers they are called! But they return in 10 minutes or so. Perhaps they have been given the news that their camper van fell off the back of the ferry? No! They have been invited to the bridge! Apparently some years ago they complained bitterly about the food and the ferry company listened. They improved their food, offered our friends a free trip or two and a few other goodies. And now they are invited to the bridge! So complaints can pay off. We mentioned to our campsite at Bourseul that the showerheads could be of the watersaving type. Maybe we will get a free week there. Maybe not.

As we approach Rosslare I walk down to the reception area and there are our other bikie friends. Siobhan recognises me and introduces herself seeing the blank expression on my face. Ro and I had said earlier that we may not recognise them without their bike clothes as only their faces were visible. And that was the case. But once I realize who they are we have a good chat and another when Ro joins me just before disembarkation.

During the crossing we had discussed what a bun fight it must be when drivers don’t turn up to drive their vehicles out. In a repeat of when we left the boat in Croatia when the boat wanted to leave, we forget which deck the van is on. When we ask and are directed to deck 4, the vehicle in front is just leaving as we open our door. A hurried retrieval of the ignition keys ensues and we exit without excessively holding up the show.

Exiting Rosslare we head toward Wexford which we have been told is beautiful. It is 20 km away and as we enter we see an Aldi where we can buy some groceries. First checking that our Travel Card will be accepted, we discover it won’t. Instead we need to walk to Wexford main street to find an ATM.

The main street is underwhelming. Eventually we ask a shopkeeper where we can find an ATM. In the Heaton department store we are told. We locate that and there is a large ATM sign suspended from the ceiling. But no ATM. On the other side of the store is also an ATM sign but no ATM. We ask a store attendant and are directed to an ATM hidden between shelves. So back to Aldi and a bit later we leave for Forlorn Point at the recommendation of the Tourist Office lady.

Roads here are even narrower than in France and have foliage either side. On top of that, I am now driving a left hand drive vehicle on the right side of the road. We have few problems other than a toot from a truck as it ran up my bumper because I was doing 40 in a 50 zone and he was doing 60 and a toot from a car for what reason we don’t know.

Forlorn Point is bleak. The wind is strong and cold. We venture out for a short walk but soon scurry back to the van and continue on to Inistioge, stopping along the way at a ruined church and graveyard.

This village is worth the visit but what we want to see is Woodstock Gardens. The pamphlets says it is open daylight hours. It is now 8pm and still daylight for 3 hours so surely they will still be open! We drive up the steep road we recently came down and see some gates which we had guessed on the way down were the Woodstock gates. Inside the property, we drive for one kilometre and reach a boom gate. It is free to enter but 4 euro to exit. In the park we see the corpses inside cars of people who found they didn’t have 4 euro, but we check our purse first.

We are the only vehicle present. Unfortunately a “No Camping” sign prevents us staying here overnight. As we start to walk around the property, a drizzle starts. The plastic coats we have leak around the seams but are the best we have on offer at present.

The property was built in 1700s and is an impressive property. Unfortunately, some time in the early 20^th century there was a fire and only the walls are standing, with trees and foliage growing inside. A scaffolding on the outside suggests there is a plan to refurbish it.

The drawcard is the impressive grounds which include a formal garden and tea room. After looking at other parts of the garden and walking around the derelict building we approach the formal garden which is behind a tall wall and large wrought iron gates. The tea room can be seen at the far end of the garden. But, perhaps not surprisingly, the gates are locked and the tea room closed. A bit more walking about and we leave after depositing our 4 euro.

As we drive down the one lane road, thankful that at this time no one approaches from the other direction, we see a place where we can overnight. There is no sign to suggest otherwise and rain now falling will probably deter anyone from walking past and moving us on. We have plastic ramps which we drive two of our four wheels onto to level the van. Unfortunately the slope is a bit too much so we have a not-quite-level night. Not a great inconvenience but not as nice as level.

Tuesday 11^th June 2013,Inistioge, Ireland

We awake to a cloudy but rain free morning. Travelling into the town, we have breakfast near an oval in the pretty little town then set Thomas for Kilkenny. This is billed as a medieval town but when we arrive the streets are not motorhome friendly. We stop at a McDonalds to pick up some emails then approach the Kilkenny Castle but cannot find a park so we continue on to Cahir which is an absolute gem.

Walking by the river we look at an iron bridge built in 1849 with an impressive span then walk back toward a stone bridge some years older and far more attractive. On the downstream side is Cahir Castle built in Norman times. Rather than going inside, we are interested in finding The Swiss Cottage which has been recommended to us. This is in fact nothing to do with Switzerland but was called that by the locals. It is a summer house which was built in early 1800s by John Nash, a renowned architect of the time, for the Butler family a wealthy family of aristocratic heritage but with some interesting skeletons in the closet.

The building is quite asymmetrical which, it is suggested, would have been anathema to John Nash. At that time, it was popular for gentry to emulate peasantry, albeit in an extremely up-market way. Thus the summer house is supposed to reflect the asymmetry of nature and the cheap building techniques of the peasantry.

The building was in a state of disrepair until 1985 when its architectural merit was recognised by an American benefactor. The result is beautiful and a valuable piece of history.

Our trip to Cahir has been the highlight so far.

We move on to the Rock of Cashel, which is a group of medieval building and churches and which was once a seat of power for kings. Unfortunately the rain starts again so we will visit it tomorrow. Now to find an overnight patch.

Exiting Cashel we find a road on which is a short driveway to an overgrown paddock gate. This will do us. It is only 6.30pm, a bit early, but it is raining so we might as well close up for the night. We fall asleep to the patter of rain.

Wednesday 12^th June 2013,Cashel, Ireland

We want to get to the Rock of Cashel near to 9, their opening time. We vacate our site, leaving nothing but tyre prints, and a small scrapings of yellow plastic which the rocks sheared off the ramps.

Our thought was to call into a hardware shop first but they are not open so we have breakfast in a carpark, proceed to the Rock carpark and are in the Rock by 9.10 am.

The Rock is the structure on which forts and ecclesiastical buildings have existed from BC times. Records show that until about 900 AD timber forts were maintained by kings until stone structures replaced them after that. In 1100AD the stone forts were given to the church which built cathedrals and other ecclesiastical structures. In the 1700s the site was abandoned as they finally admitted the weather was too inhospitable in winter. Since that time, a great deal of restoration work has been done and continues but there are still days when it is closed due to dangerous winds and conditions.

There is to be a guided tour at 10.30 and we debate whether to stay, having spent over an hour walking around the site. But we do and the guide is very knowledgable. In typical Irish fashion, he talks non stop for 50 minutes 15 to the dozen. The chapel is historically one of the most significant in Ireland. And the Rock of Cashel is one of the most visited sites in Ireland.

We leave about 12 to drive to Blarney castle. I am used to the roads now and am unphased by having bushes brushing the mirror as we squeeze pass trucks. Should be good practice for England.

As we arrive at Blarney Castle, it starts to drizzle. This time we take some ponchos which we brought from Melbourne rather than using the rather useless slickers we used yesterday.

The castle is quite tall and has walls up to 18 feet thick! The timber roofs are missing but the walls are in tact and various rooms can be entered by climbing a stone spiral staircase. There are passages and steps and caves around every corner.

The famous Blarney Stone is actually at the top of the castle. To kiss it, one has to lie on ones back and lean out over the castle wall. Today there is an attendant and steel bars to prevent one crashing to ones death, but in times bygone, this fate befell some unfortunates. Kissing the Blarney Stone is supposed to imbue one with eloquence but the greater certainty is contracting some liquid borne disease. The modern offset to this is a spray of some antibacterial which is sprayed before each smooch.

I was going to kiss it, but Ro said I have verbal diarrhoea anyway so she didn’t want to chance it getting worse. After all we did hear the tour guide this morning and he may well have kissed it.

By now it is raining quite heavily, so we don our ponchos. Ro has modified the heads so they look like the getup the Grim Reaper wears. While that look would not be inappropriate here, the translucence makes us look more like giant gnomes. But they do keep us dryish.

At the bottom of the castle is a garden of poisonous plants. Every information sheet has a skull and crossbones and a lot of interesting information on symptoms and effects. Great for crime writers. We also walk through other gardens which are beautiful, even in the rain. Further over is Blarney House which appears in use and which has a Private sign. It is a huge house which would cost a bob or two to maintain!

By 5 we leave to drive to Killarny about 1 hour away. We need to stay in a park tonight as we need to dump and fill tanks. There is one just near the town so that will do us.

Arriving with plenty of daylight, we empty and fill tanks then read before dinner and bed.

Thursday 13^th June 2013,Killarny, Ireland

We wake rather late as we had been awake at 4am doing some Skype calls. There is a promise of sunshine which rapidly fades to light rain. We have breakfast and prepare to leave.

Today we want to travel the Ring of Kerry which does a loop around the peninsula between the Kenmare River and Dingle Bay. The scenery is reputed to be spectacular.

Leaving Killarny we start the 170 km ring and are rewarded with views of wide expanses of farmland lying on gentle slopes which rise to long low mountain ranges. Unlike farms elsewhere, paddocks are defined by lines of low tree like hedges. Further on we drive by roads which hug cliffs with spectacular views to rocky shores and across Dingle Bay to the Dingle Peninsula in the near distance.

We want to stop at a roadside stop for coffee but those we pass are full of cars. We continue and to our delight find an unoccupied area just for us. Unfortunately just as I turn off the engine, a tourist bus pulls in and the bus empties for a photo opportunity. This is not the luck of the Irish. But in 10 minutes they disappear and we enjoy the view without hordes of others.

The Ring of Kerry forms a figure of 8 with the smaller Ring of Skellig and on which town of Portmagee defines the western most point. There is also an island named Valentia which has a bridge at Portmagee and a ferry at the far end of the island.

We have a quick look at Portmagee then cross the bridge to Valentia where the roads are even narrower than others we have encountered. Irish roads we have encountered have yellow dashed lines at the outer extemeties and a centre white line with noise making bum every few meters. The lanes are sometimes so narrow that most of the time we are hitting the middle bumps. On Valentia, the smaller roads have the yellow lines but are so narrow there is no middle white line. There are some extended dirt bits which allow passing oncoming cars only if one goes bush basing. There are some even narrower ones which don’t even have yellow lines and fortunately we did not meet any cars on these. Maybe they are footpaths.

But the views to be had are even more spectacular. They include a slate mine which is very extensive and explains the preponderance of slate in the area. The rectilinear blocks of slate are fascinating. Slate is used vertically on tops of fences making them look rather inhospitable and quite secure. Slate chips are used around gardens and as pebbles on large expanses.

We return to Portmagee where we find a small pub and have a late lunch of fish and chips and roast beef. Both have large quantities of potatoes!! We also have a glass of Guiness each.

In order to keep our journey moving toward Dublin, we need to get to Dingle tonight. This involves retracing our steps along the Ring of Kerry rather than completing the loop. It is a 2 hour drive to Dingle where there is another loop via Slea Head of only 12 km to the most westerly point of Europe, it is said.

Before searching for an overnight area we stop for tea and biscuits just past Dingle and watch some children skilfully playing with a bat whose like we have not seen before. It looks somewhat like a short hockey stick with a spoon instead of a curve. They hit a ball similar to a tennis ball in size.

The 12 km drive is along raged cliff tops with sweeping views of the sea. Various cliff top parks promise appropriate stopping places and we eventually we choose one with a magnificent sea view. This has to be our best overnight stop ever. Our only concern is wind which proves not to be a problem. A sign warning of falling rocks is also of passing concern but we think it would have to be a big rock to push us off.

It is also the quietest night we have had.

Friday 14^th June 2013,Slea Head, Ireland

If the van’s a’rockin…….. we have struck a windy patch. It is and we have. A strong wind off the sea carries driving rain and our breakfast view to die for is obscured by mist. But very special.

I brave the elements to pack away our ramps. The driving rain bites on the windward side but on the leeward side it is dry and not too cold. We get on the road by 9am and continue along the Slea Point loop back to Dingle. The rain continues , obscuring the magnificent views behind a diaphanous veil of mist. It is a shame the blue skies of yesterday could not have continued.

It is our intention to travel to the Moher Cliffs today, taking a ferry across the Shannon River at Tarbert, a 4 km voyage. However, at Dingle we visit the tourist centre and are persuaded to go via Bunratty to look at the 15^th century Bunratty Castle and folk village of 30 buildings.

It is still raining heavily when we arrive at 3.30 pm. Last admissions are at 4pm and the castle closes at 4.30pm for the Irish Banquet. It is too wet to walk around the village so we decide the 25 euro admission can be better spent.

We ask about the banquet which we expect is booked out. It is. But the Traditional Irish Night, a similar thing has 4 vacancies so we book for that. It includes a 4 course meal and Irish entertainment. It starts at 7 and goes until 9.30. It includes unlimited wines, so maybe we will have to stay in the carpark tonight to comply with Irish road laws.

The two hours until 7pm we spend reading and doing the odd job. By 6.45 we are changed into what we think are more appropriate clothes and ready to return to the village.

The Traditional Irish Night is in the corn barn, one of the village buildings. It has a thatched roof, exposed roof trusses and heavy wooden tables. There are two tour groups plus a handful of couples. We are seated next to a South African couple about our age with whom we chat throughout the evening.

We are ushered in with a glass of mead or Carolans Irish Cream. The performers, dancers, musicians and the compare double as waiters and waitresses. We start with a green salad during which we hear and see Irish dances and songs. The main course is salmon or Irish stew. Ro has the salmon and I have the stew. Both are nice. Traditional apple pie, or rather commercially produced slice, with cream follows. There are more dances, songs, the odd joke and amusing dialogue between the courses. Coffee or tea completes the evening with more entertainment. We thoroughly enjoy the evening and are back in the van about 9.45. Once again it is a bit odd leaving the artificially dark venue for daylight outside.

Saturday 15^th June 2013, Bunratty, Ireland

We awake to rain. Not surprising, really. It is early so we get started for the Cliffs of Moher, about 1 hour away.

It is nice being on the roads when no one else is. This being a Saturday helps that. We resolve to do this more often! Not unlike a New Year’s resolution, I suspect.

As yet we have not had breakfast but, reaching our destination, there is a break in the rain and it seems a good idea to look at the cliffs before breakfast.

Just to be safe, we rug up in jumpers, coats, plastic pants and waterproof coats. In Ireland we have learnt it is wise to be safe. As it happens, the rain is not a problem for the moment but the wind is. It howls and is quite chilly.

Walking along the top of the cliffs, a stone wall between us and the 200 metre drop to the sea, we are buffeted by the strong winds. We watch birds in their hundreds soar on the winds. As they don’t appear to be hunting prey, their speed dashes and soaring antics seem only to be for shear pleasure. Our pleasure is viewing the magnificent rugged cliffs with the sea pounding at their bases crashing upward in spray to be is carried away on the winds.

There has been a break in the weather and we have had no rain. But not far away is a dark cloud threatening to dump its load over us soon. Hurrying against the wind to the visitor centre we spend time looking at an attractive and informative display, housed in a building sculpted into the hill.

They have wifi and we need to pick up some emails. The threatening cloud has disappeared and it is still clear so we walk back to the van some 300 metre away in the car park to get the computer. We still have not had breakfast and the wifi is available to customers only. This will do for breakfast. Traditional apple pie (we have heard that before) and coffee will do us while we get our emails.

The pie is far better than last night, but the wifi won’t connect despite the staff checking the transmitter . It seems that wifi is still a bit of a novelty in Ireland.

Our next point of interest is The Burren which is a limestone outcrop of rock in whose crevices sub tropical plants thrive. The weather is still holding and we even have blue sky and sunshine. The breeze is not so icy but still strong and the spray from the waves carries some distance because we are only 10 or 15 metres above sea level.

After 45 minutes of rock hopping and photographing of plants we return to the van for lunch. Just as we start our lunch, the skies close in and it rains heavily. A new busload of sightseers tumbles out of their coach but only stays briefly. The rain sets in.

As we have realised that we will run out of time to complete the itinerary we had in mind, we set our course for Drogheda, just above Dublin and some 4 hours drive away. Newgrange near by , is the site of monolithic monuments older than the pyramids or Stonehenge and dates back to 3200 BC.

The roads are typically narrow and frequent buses cause us to hug close to the shoulder. Some shoulders are not shoulders to which one would naturally gravitate. On a few occasions, we need to stop in an indentation as a vehicle squeezes by.

Because we were not able to get our emails, we visit the Irish equivalent of McDonalds to use their wifi. We can use 10 minutes before purchasing something. I suggest we buy some icecreams before we start. This we do, but once again, the wifi does not work. They turn the system on and off as any professional IT trouble shooter would do. But still no go. The manager informs us that he cannot remember when anyone actually used the wifi.

We continue. After another ½ hour driving we come to Athlone and there is a Sheraton Hotel there. We enter and ask about wifi, explaining we are not guests. If we buy something we can use the system……

A waiter asks what we would like and we truthfully say nothing except the wifi but one coffee will do as we are still repleat from the apple pie, coffee and icecream from the two previous wifi providers. He says not to worry and gives us a code for one hour of wifi, which works!

Now repleat and enlightened, the remaining 1 ½ hour drive can be completed. Thomas informs us we will arrive at 8.36pm and we contemplate finding a pub instead for dinner and a Guiness or two. But instead we stop with 30 minutes to drive and look for an overnight spot to stop.

Taking a side road, we come across an incomplete house which is unoccupied. Surely no one will bother if we park here for the night. We eat a light dinner before a car arrives behind our van. A toot on the horn encourages me to exit and talk to the occupant. She is the owner of the house. I explain that we are Australian travellers and we hoped we could stay the night here. I say we will happily move on if she would prefer. But she is happy for us to stay and I thank her, apologising for inconveniencing her.

The night is not as cool as last night and there is no wind. We will sleep well.

Sunday 16^th June 2013, Cloughbrack, Ireland

The tourist information advises an early attendance at Newgrange as visitors are transported by bus to the sites and the numbers are limited. To achieve this, we set an alarm for 7.15am but wake up before anyway.

Leaving our squatter parking spot, we arrive at Newgrange by 8am. The park has no boom gates so we can enter and have breakfast before the visitor centre opens at 9am.

There is a long pathway beneath a timber trellis which is very well done, as turns out to be the whole site. As we approach the visitor centre which will open in 5 minutes, there is a rockery with cascading water. The experience is strangely reminiscent of the Necropolis cemetery at Springvale. They could easily utilize some of this design.

The visitor centre is an architecturally pleasing and functional building. It has a display section, the ticket foyer, a café and the obligatory souvenir shop. There are two appealing helical stairways which connect the two floors.

When entering, we must choose to visit Newgrange, Knowth or both. Choosing both, we are affixed with two bus times, not unlike what one would do to kindergarten children. We are told to be at the bus stop when the big hand points to…….. well not quite but we do have a bit of time to look at the exhibition first before walking over an attractive suspension walkway over the Boyne River and a similarly aesthetically pleasing timber walkway over the flood plain adjacent to the river.

24 passengers are allocated to a bus which drives us 4 or 5 kilometres to Knowth. The grounds are well maintained and the site is well set up for visitors without being overcrowded, thanks to the control exercised by bussing people in and out. A guide will provide information for 30 minutes then we can wander around for 15 or 20 minutes before the bus returns us.

The site dates back to 3200BC and consists of an 80 metre circular structure created from large rocks and covered by a dome of earth. Similar in some ways to Australia’s Parliament House but on a rather smaller scale. Rocks weighing up to 4 tonnes were moved from some kilometres away by teams of Neolithic men using rollers. The engineering was quite advanced with an understanding of structural integrity and drainage requirements. It is thought that they were built for pagan religious ceremonies to celebrate the seasons and probably were built over some generations.

Our next trip is to Newgrange, 4 or 5 kilometres in the opposite direction. This site is similar but here we can venture into the monument via the stone tunnel which is aligned with the sun at the equinox. The chamber to which the 20 metre passage leads is about 8 metre diameter and 6 meter high with 3 smaller chambers in which are rock carvings and a large carved stone bowl. Inside the chamber is completely dry, a miracle in itself in Ireland, the guide says, and has been for 5000 years! It has never been cleaned but looks as it would have when it was built. There is no soot, suggesting fire was not used there. To give us an idea of the effect at the equinox, the inside electric lights were turned off. After a moment of pitch blackness, another light simulating a rather weak sun was turned on. There is a raffle called the Newgrange lotto where each year 50 people are selected from whose filling in the forms available and may attend an equinox ceremony in the chamber in October. This would surely be very special. Just being in the chamber is special enough.

Returning by bus from Newgrange after one hour, we have lunch in the café before spending a little more time in the exhibition. As with everything else here, the exhibition is very informative and very well done.

By 2pm we leave to drive to Camac Valley camping area just outside Dublin which has been recommended to us. We can get a hop-on-hop-off bus ticket for 2 days and the bus will pick us up and deliver us back to the campsite. It will be nice not to have to drive for a few days.

We are set up by 4.30pm and can now enjoy a quiet afternoon. As we have wifi for the two days we are here, we can also catch up on some emails and other communications. Furthermore, we can book two tickets on line to the Guinness factory at 10% discount.

Monday 17^th June 2013, Dublin, Ireland

I awake at 5.45am to make some skype calls and don’t get back to sleep before we have to get up at 8am, ready for our HopOnHopOff bus at 9.30am. It is raining consistently and not exactly lightly but by the time we have had breakfast, the rain has almost stopped. Later during the commentary on the bus it is stated that Dublin only had rain twice last week: once for 3 days and once for 4 days. It rains a lot in Ireland. An average of 3 inches per month. The temperature is an average 15 degrees which Dubliners think is neither too hot nor too cold. I don’t agree.

By 9.30 our double decker red bus arrives. The top is open, a product of Irish optimism in the face of obverse reality. But there are three undercover rows of seats on top so we select two of those, pleased we are rugged up.

Our trip is through a traffic jam. At one stage a police vehicle must pass through the mess. Presumably the strong Catholic influence helps because, not unlike the Red Sea, vehicles hug together, a pathway opens and the vehicle passes, with the sea of traffic resuming after its passage. The analogy stops there as I did not see anyone drown following the closure.

Our first stop is at Trinity College where we want to see “The Book of Kells”. This is a manuscript of the four Gospels which was crafted in 800 AD in Latin but with some letters magnificently decorated.

Wandering across the college from our bus stop we pass beautiful grounds and wonderful buildings. As we approach the library, a Man in Black with an earpiece tells us that the library is closed today until 2 pm. There seems to be a lot of security about and the further we go the more security is evident. The penny drops. I heard on the bus radio that President Obama is visiting Ireland and no doubt he wants to see the book, obviously unaware that we do too. But we acquiesce and go back to our HOHO bus to go to the Guinness Storehouse. Along the way we pass a hotel where there is also an inordinate amount of security. But we were not staying there so no problems.

Alighting the bus at stop 13 which is opposite the Storehouse, we look about for it. After questioning a passer by or two we find out it is actually five blocks away. Later we surmise that the map we are looking at with green buses is not the map we need for red buses. As we reach the Storehouse, one of our HOHO buses stops outside. As they say Maps ain’t Maps.

The Guinness story starts 250 years ago when stout was invented in London. Arthur Guinness decided he could make a quid or two so leased 64 acres for 9000 years at 45 pounds per annum. A fortune then. Nothing now. This was not the only for ward thinking enterprise embarked on by the Guinness family. In 1904, the Guinness family built a substantial block of dwellings for their workers including a child care centre, public baths and a crèche. Today Guinness is a huge industrial complex in the middle of Dublin making 4 million pints of beer a day. The seven storey building which houses the tourist facility was a fermentation plant from 1904 to 1988. Inside the theme is very industrial with exposed riveted steel columns and girders and bits of equipment showing the manufacturing process including huge copper boilers, newer stainless steel tanks and numbers of large pipes with valves. The centre of the building is made to look like a huge pint glass.

After an hour or so of looking at processes over some of the levels and tasting some of the stouts they produce, we have the opportunity to pour ourselves a pint of draught Guinness using the 6 steps required to draw the perfect beer. We receive a certificate and drink the beer. Ro too!!!!! A pint and a bit of Guinness is more alcohol than Ro has ever had at one sitting and she is ever so slightly merry and a little woosey.

Unsteadily we make our way to the Gravity Bar which affords a 360 degree view of Dublin. The highest building is only about 10 or 15 storeys high so the view is excellent.

By 3 pm we exit the building but have limited time to return to stop 1 for our return to the park. We check that the bus will get back before the other leaves . It will so we take it and arrive at stop 1 with 30 minutes to spare. Unfortunately that gives us insufficient time to do anything much so we sit on a bench and watch Dublin action.

The trip back to the park is not as slow as the trip in. We arrive by 5pm and go for a walk. The day is still clear and tomorrow is forecast to be clear. We have another day with our HOHO bus tomorrow then we get the ferry tomorrow night to Wales, arriving 20 past midnight. A good night’s sleep tonight will help.

Tuesday 18^th June 2013, Dublin, Ireland

Something’s wrong! The sky is clear and the sun is shining and there are no rain clouds to be seen. But we will cope….somehow.

By 9.15am we have parked the van in the car park ready to board our HOHO bus for another day full of fun and excitement, as the ad on the bus tells us.

Because the sun is out, we can sit outside in relative warmth. The locals are in short sleeve shirts, shirts and thongs so they think it is warm. We are still in heavy long sleeved shirts, jumpers and fully zipped up coats. The warmth of the sun slowly induces us to unzip our coats.

Today there is little traffic on the inward journey, making us wonder if yesterday’s jam was due to Obama’s visit. Instead of traffic on the inward journey, we get stuck in traffic on the trip between stops.

Our plan is to visit the Book of Kells at Trinity first but the sunshine seduces us into staying aboard for a full circuit. The view of the building facades is excellent and the lack of clouds only stands to enhance that. Dublin has grown on us. It oozes character, which, with its history is unsurprising. Among many things, we love the Irish names of the shopkeepers, often written in gold above the shop fronts.

Once we reach Stop 1 again we debate getting off the bus and walking as yesterday we experienced some long waits at stops before bus left. Our debate is cut short by the sudden motion of the bus so we travel a kilometre or so then get off. We want to visit Temple Bar, a pedestrian precinct of shopping. It is not the shopping which interests us but The Stag’s Head pub which is largely unchanged since 1895. Our plan is to have lunch there if it is not crowded out.

As we ponder our map, rotating it in all directions to try to make sense of it, as all truly lost tourists do, a local inquires if we are indeed lost and we ask directions to the Stag’s Head. He walks some distance out of his way to direct us correctly. We part with a thankyou and a comment about how helpful we have found him and his fellow countrymen. He appreciates the comment and wishes us well.

There is a lovely mosaic in the footpath which points us to the pub. It is down a covered way. We find the pub and are surprised that it is almost empty. A few regulars and a very helpful barmaid are the only occupants. We order a Guinness each (yes, each) and sit down to wait for lunch which the barmaid says is a bit behind today. We are unconcerned as the atmosphere is very enjoyable, with its oak panelling, original bar and eclectic light fittings.

We enjoyed the Guinness stew so much yesterday that we order Guinness pies again today. Guinness seems to have made a killing with us. It is very clever to entice tourists to a huge marketing event which they volunteer to pay for then to start them on a path of consuming their product.

Walking to Trinity College, we enter from a different gate and walk to the library. The queue is mercifully short and soon we have out tickets. A ticket control gate bars our entry. It says to present our ticket for reading but the machine must like our faces because it opens anyway. Wanting to do the right thing I present the ticket to the reader while the gate patiently remains open. I present what appears to be a cross between a series of four standard bar codes and a 2 d bar code. The scanner still shows no sign of recognition but the gate remains open. Inspecting the ticket again, the code it could not read turns out to be a stylized image of the library. I give up and we walk through the gates which close behind us. Technology can spot a luddite at 50 paces.

Leading into the Book of Kells is a lot of reading about what, why and how. The room where the Book or more to the point books are is low level lighting for protection of the artefacts. The Books themselves are somewhat underwhelming, but Ro says 97% of philistines think that. Above the Book room is the Long Room which is a library built in 1713 which contains 200,000 extremely delicate texts. Sixty or so bays run off the central hall and are indexed and accessed by tall ladders on rails. An Irish harp is being played at the end of the Long Room. This is more my scene. We sit and enjoy the ambience, barely disturbed by the 3 or 400 others crowded into the space. This was well worth the visit.

It is 3pm and our bus returns to Camac Valley at 4.20. Trinity is on the south bank but the walk is only a kilometre or two across the river to the north side. On the way we walk along the river to Halfpenny Bridge which we cross. With the 10 remaining minutes before the bus, it seems appropriate to buy a pair of shoes as my track shoes are leaking. Enticed by Sale signs, we buy a pair of shoes not on sale for 110 euro. The sales girl says they are waterproof, although we cannot see anything which attests that. Later we find a label which tells us they are. I now have Parisian boots made in Bolivia and Dublin shoes made in China. But no one need know that.

By the time we get back to the van it is 5.30 pm and we leave immediately for the ferry. Our drive takes us through the city by the river and past Halfpenny Bridge again. Further on we see the suspension bridge completed relatively recently the suspension of which is made to look like an Irish harp. The main support is the backbone and the support cables are the strings. It is very effective but trees prevent us taking a photo as we pass which is a pity.

The queue is short when we join it in preparation for boarding in 1 ½ hours. We leave at 8.55 and by 8.30 there is no sign of movement. But suddenly the full car park starts to empty as trucks, buses, cars, caravans and motorhomes stream across a large bridge into the bow of the ferry.

This ferry is the largest ferry into Ireland. It has 12 decks, is 50,000 tonnes 200 metre long and has 4.5 kilometre of vehicle lanes. Our van is one of the last to load but nevertheless the ferry leaves on time.

The ship is huge in our limited experience. The sea is so calm that it is not perceptible that we are on a huge moving object. First we explore our environment for the next 3 hours. As with the Celtic Lines ferry, there is a cinema, various eating spots, various bars and lounges and some games areas. As the ship is named after James Joyce’s book Ulysses, there are some plaques about Joyce’s life. We will seek out the 12 plaques later.

It is getting on to 9.30pm and, despite a large lunch, or maybe because of it, I feel like dinner. On the menu is Guinness pie. When I was at school, I had cheese sandwiches for lunch every day for years. With that background, it comes as no surprise I chose the pie again. Something to do with OC disorder probably.

We while away the hours, including a short nap in the lounge chair area. We awake from our naps to the announcement we are arriving at Holyhead and will disembark shortly. As hundreds of people funnel down the steps to the vehicle decks, we join the throng and within a short time are back in our van. A few minutes after that the motorhome in front of us moves off and we follow. All very efficient and quick.

We have already given Thomas instructions on where to take us to an overnight park. This he does once he realises we are in Wales now.

The overnight park is a long term park which is only minutes from the ship. Within 30 minutes or so we are ready for bed after our showers.

Wednesday 19^th June 2013 Holyhead, Wales

We sleep in until 9am before eating breakfast and getting on the road. Our first stop is Lidl but an enquiry of one of the shop attendants tells us that they don’t accept euro and our card generally does not work at Lidl.

Plan B is implemented. We will travel to Bangor to see the Menai Suspension Bridge, buying some gas along the way and getting some money from a hole in the wall.

Without too much effort we get to our gas stop and, wonder of wonders, we get gas. Unlike the fiasco we had two years ago to get gas. We are using very little so this may do us until the end of this year’s trip. The hole in the wall is less helpful and refuses to give us cash.

At Bangor we try another hole in the wall and it will give us cash. Then to Lidl which, uncharacteristically, does accept our card. Back to the bridge where we have coffee and walk over the bridge. It was opened in 1826 following a long history of cost increases which left it unfinished for many years. The engineer, Thomas Telford, lived to see it completed but died in his 70s five or six years after its opening.

Our next stop is Blaenau FFestiniog where there is an historic narrow gauge steam train ride through the Snowdonia National Park available. Unfortunately the trip will take up most of the day so we are too late today.

There is a camp site by a river near by so we head there. We can camp right by the river which is quite fast flowing. We will have the water to serenade us tonight. Making camp by 4.30, we have time for a very picturesque walk along the banks. It is nice to have some spare time.

Thursday 20^th June 2013 Blaenau FFestiniog, Wales

The night is quite cool and the morning overcast. We have breakfast with the sound of the water then pack up and are on our way back to FFestiniog by 10am.

The railway ticket office is not open so we go in search of wifi. A very quaint Welsh café has free wifi once the obligatory cup of coffee is purchased. It is furnished with eclectic pieces of old furniture. A few emails later and we are on our way to the ticket office.

For 38 GBP we can travel the 13 miles or so to Porthmadog, stopping along the way at Tan-y-Bwlch. The train leaves in 15 minutes at 11.50AM.

There are First Class and Third Class tickets, presumably there being no Second class in Welsh. The extra 24 GBP return for First Class does not seem worth it. The seats are more like arm chairs in First but the view looks to be obscured by the headrest wings which seems rather to defeat the purpose of the journey.

The trip to Tawney Bitch (we are still working on our Welsh pronunciation) is delightful. Unhurried with the click clack of wheels across rail joins and the occasional smell of burnt coal. On long curves we see the locomotive with its string of carriages. The carriages are old world and we have selected a dining car with tables for four one side of a narrow aisle and tables for two on the other side. The scenery is beautiful with tall mountains of mined grey slate among verdant forests.

At 12.20 we arrive at Tawney and it is sufficiently close to lunch to eat in the railway café. Like railway cafes the world over, the food is not write-home stuff. On top of that, we are in UK for which culinary pursuits are not known to rate highly. There are beef baps on the menu with onions. Ordering it without onion means we are provided a roll with three pieces of dry beef inside. The lack of onion in the bap is compensated by excessive onion in the salad.

Replete but gastronomically unsatiated we go for a walk along forested tracks down to a lake, the water in which is not particularly cold. Had we more time, I would have been tempted to take a swim. After a steep walk back to the platform, we board our train at 2.10 for the trip to Porthmadog which is as enjoyable as the first half.

The little train steams in to at our destination at 14.55, leaving us one hour until our return journey. Some rain curtails our exploration of Porthmadog but we don’t feel we have missed a lot. At 4pm we reboard for the return trip.

By 5.30pm we are in the van at Ffestiniog boiling the billy for a cup of tea. We want to travel to Llangollen for a canal trip tomorrow. It is about 1 hour away and it is raining again and misty. About 5 km from Llangollen, we take a promising turn off which leads over a multi arched stone bridge then to a car park near a river where we can overnight. It is nothing like last night but will do us for the few hours we need to sleep.

Friday 21st June 2013 LLangollen, Wales

The rain is quite heavy overnight but has cleared by morning and the temperature is quite balmy. After breakfast we drive into Llangollen to where the canal port should be. A sign says we are here but the white water river looks a bit excited for a horse drawn canal boat.

After a bit of walking hither and yon, we find the canal some 50 metres above the river. It is 10am and there are seats available for 2 pm. Maybe it is better to visit Powis Castle, an hour away, today as there is some event there tomorrow and crowding is likely. That decided, we purchase tickets for a canal boat ride tomorrow and are ready to leave.

However Ro is feeling a bit off colour and suspects she may have some gastro so we walk to a local pharmacy through the delightfully bustling village of Llangollen.

Medication in hand (actually in mouth) we head for Powis and arrive about 11am which is when it opens. As we are a motorhome, we are ushered to the far reaches of the car park, not what Ro really needs. At the ticket box we purchase tickets for 25GBP before an off hand comment by one of the attendants induces us to buy instead a National Trust yearly subscription for 92GBP which will give us free access to many Trust homes across England, Wales and Scotland. Also across Ireland, but we are a bit late for that. And across Australia, for that matter, as they have reciprocal rights.

The castle opens at 12.30 but the gardens are open now. They are extensive, beautiful and varied. After a pleasant hour of walking, with frequent rests, Ro is running low on energy. She has just enough to visit the castle, museum and coach house before she needs to return to the van. The castle was extensively renovated on 1904 and not a great deal has been done since then. Despite this, the frescos, paintings, wood panelling and carpets are in very good condition. With all the wood panelling, the interior is quite dark and gloomy but a good impression of what life there would have been like was apparent. One area is a museum full of trinkets, weapons and art works from 19^th century India and is one of the best collections in UK.

As we leave, Ro is on her last legs. There is a courtesy car for disabled but we explain Ro’s malaise and the driver is happy to ferry us to the van at the far end of the car park, for which Ro is very grateful.

We need a camp tonight with dumping and filling facilities and some power to vacuum the van. There is a camp site near Llangollen for tomorrow’s canal trip. Setting Thomas for a camp site near the village, we arrive about 4pm. Unfortunately the camp site is only for Caravan Club members so we are directed to another which thankfully is even closer to the wharf we need tomorrow and has all we need, except wifi. We will spend a comfortable night here.

Saturday 22nd June 2013 LLangollen, Wales

Again, plenty of rain in the night but clear in the morning. We have plenty of time and we are only 15 minutes from the Wharf. Ro has time to wash her hair under an untimed, temperature variable shower. It doesn’t get better than this. Perhaps a lesser odour of Lysol could marginally improve the experience.

First stop is our friendly pharmacist from yesterday because I have managed to inhale some spores which my system does not like. Talfast which fixes it fast in Australia is not an over the counter medication so he gives me second best. Well second best as it turns out.

We have parked in a church yard for 50p. They augment their parish coffers by selling parking space where the council provides none. As they say, seek and the Lord will provide. Although, as yet I am not an out and out convert. Whether I am booked by a gray bomber or an angle with wings makes little difference to me.

I also have time to check emails at the local library which has computer access to the internet but not wifi. Returning to the van, I find Ro resting as she is still not 100%. The walk to the canal is not too arduous and we arrive with just enough time to order some lunch to have on board our narrow boat.

By 12.15 we are sitting at a table for 1 ½ but with two small seats. There are tables for 2 ½ which seat 4 supposedly. Some patrons don’t exactly fit the narrow seats which makes squeezing past them, when traversing the length of the boat, quite a squeeze. The protocol required for canal boats traversing the canals is mirrored by the protocol required by the passengers.

Our trip starts with a bit of balancing of the load, once again reminiscent of what we had to do on our boat. Two passengers on the starboard side are requested to move to port to level up the boat. The narrow boat is 72 feet (the maximum permitted) long with a 7 feet beam.

Sitting at our table, our eyes are about 700mm above the water. Our seat is about water level. The canals are about 3 feet deep and the boat draft is about 2 ft. Ducks share the canal with no concern for the boats passing by.

We start down the canal at a speed little more than walking pace and continue at this speed or slower. We cover 5 miles in 2 hours and the unhurried pace is very relaxing. We meet other narrow boats along the way as the canal is two way. There are 500 yard sections where boars cannot pass and the protocol is that one of the passengers should walk the 500 metre to inform other boats they are using that section of the canal once it is free. It does not always work and our skipper said bumps are not uncommon and occasionally two boats get jammed requiring a winch to free them. We have one near collision on a blind corner under a bridge, but the skipper says that is par for the course.

Some of the trip is spent at the stern with the skipper. Looking along the 72 foot length of the narrowboat, it is evident that some skill in steering is required. We get a few tips as we would like to hire one some time.

The views across the countryside are beautiful. There are walkways against one side of the canal so many walkers are seen. These tracks once were for the horses which towed the boats. There is a horse drawn narrow boat cruise available as an alternative to the one we have taken but it does not cross the Pontcysyllte aquaduct which our trip does.

We have ordered vegetable soup and bread as a light meal and it is heated on board and brought to us half an hour into the journey. It is delicious and filling.

Toward the end of our trip we approach the aquaduct. This is a bridge with an iron canal on top. It was built from 1795 to 1805 to allow the canal system to function as intended for carrying cargo. The narrowboats could carry 20 or more times more cargo than could a horse and wagon using the same number of horses. Nevertheless there were those who said the system would never work and it must have taken a great deal of courage to build such infrastructure. The canals were a great success until the railways started to erode their market share due to shorter transport times. The canals were again used in WW2 as Britain utilized all its resources but fell into disrepair thereafter. In the 1960s there was a move to repair the canals for recreational use and they have never looked back.

We cross over the aquaduct, still with 95% of its original seals and structure. The skipper warns us against all moving to one side to avoid capsizing the boat. From on top of the aquaduct, it would be one hell of a capsize.

We are bussed back to our starting point and walk back to the van.

Our plan is to drive tonight to an area near Pembroke, about 4 hours away. This we do, taking the odd break as driving is quite tiring along the narrow roads. Hedges either side mean that on corners, it is impossible to see what is around them.

By 7.45 we are near our camp site. But near enough is not good enough here. The hedges either side are higher than the van and it is like driving down a maze. We stop near where we are supposed to be but there are no signs. Fortunately, a lady leans out of Cross Cottage at the intersection and asks if we are lost. We say we are looking for Tything Barn. She cheerfully directs us there and says she is always directing lost people.

Arriving at Tything Barn we are welcomed by the proprietors and shown the amenities and some of the sights and walks. It is a bit late tonight but we will explore the area tomorrow.

Sunday 23rd June 2013 Pembrokeshire, Wales

The wind is quite fierce when we wake but lessens by the time we have finished breakfast. The site was originally a quarry and there are extensive walking tracks, some around a lake with two islands. The lakes are mostly fresh water but are occasionally inundated with sea water from the tidal estuary. Large areas of mown grass make the area very appealing. Unfortunately the overcast, windy conditions lessen the appeal today. The walk is very enjoyable none the less.

By lunch time we leave intending to visit some areas on the Gower Peninsula which is heritage listed. Along the way we visit a famous surf beach, Llanelli where we have a late lunch. Ro has cod which is delicious and I have lasagne which is British. Continuing on we search for the beautiful sights which the tourist publications have promised us, but they are illusive.

By 7.45 we are looking for our camp site. It is called Croes Robert Farm Far Hill. We find a Croes Robert Farm House but that is not what we want. After 15 minutes we admit defeat and we end up stopping at a clearing along one of the maze like hedged lanes. There is a gate near by which proves to be a walking trail….. marked as Croes Robert Nature Reserve. It seems there are many Croes Robert this and that’s in the area, so we will settle for Croes Robert Nature Reserve. The name is not far removed from our intended stopover anyway.

Monday 24rd June 2013 Trelleck, Wales

After a quiet night we awaken early. We will get underway and have breakfast at Painswick, our first scenic stop. We are there by 8.00 and have breakfast in a rather delightful bituminised carpark. Well, not hugely delightful but functional.

Unfortunately Ro is quite under the weather. The fish and chips from yesterday’s lunch caused indigestion the whole night and unsurprisingly affected adversely her sleeping. She does not feel like trekking around the village so I go alone. First port of call is the library, a 1700s odd old building, for some rather more contemporary wifi. They don’t have it but I can use the computers there. But the attendant does not know how to turn them on and they are only available on Wednesdays and she does not suppose I want to wait until then. Such perspicacity. Instead she points me to the tourist office, a hole in the wall room next to the hole in the wall library. They do not have wifi but I can use the computer. That I do and then return to the van to see if Ro is up to walking. She isn’t so I continue my walking tour.

The town is billed by Lonely Planet as an unspoiled gem and that is a perfect description. I walk through the church yard with its sculpted yew trees which were planted in 1700s. A tomb inside the church is dated 1609. Walking further around the narrow streets, the buildings are as they were many hundreds of years ago. Quite a different feel from similarly aged buildings we have seen elsewhere but captivating. Especially from our perspective as Australians who see none of this compared with the locals who live with this antiquity on a daily basis.

On returning to the van again, Ro wants to see some of the village so raises herself from her sickbed to see some of the sights. The village is built on top of a hill so streets are quite steep, which is not what she needs. Some judicious choice of areas where hills are not excessive enables her to get a feel for this wonderful little village.

We move on to Blenheim Castle, about one hour away. The grounds are expansive to say the least and not what we need to do today. We will instead overnight in the area and return tomorrow.

Chipping Norton is about twenty minutes away and on Ro’s list. Lonely Planet thinks it is a bit commercialised and we agree. We drive through without exploring instead choosing to return to Woodstock, Blenheim’s local village, to explore that further.

It is also wonderful to walk through. The buildings are in good repair and very quaint. There are many galleries and antique shops which are closed but the window shopping is superb. One shop has a window full of tea pots in all sorts of shapes; an old fashioned phone, a sewing machine, a tractor, a narrowboat, a wheelbarrow and numerous others.

By now it is about 8pm. Oxford is only 12 miles away and we think evening might be a good time to drive through as we have been warned it is bedlam usually. It transpires 8pm is still usual because it is still bedlam. We bail out and return to Woodstock to find a camp site.

Earlier we had visited a camp site but like the other night it was a Caravan Club site and we could not stay there. We saw a sign later that we could join on the spot but we have moved on now.

Where we move on to is a small track which has a log at the end. We can’t be in anyone’s way here. Wrong! A farmer pulls up and suggests we should not be camping here. We say we were planning to spend the night here. After a short discussion, he is happy for us to stay if we leave nothing behind. We have discovered that occupants of gypsy caravans can have clout if they speak proper.

Tuesday 25th June 2013 Woodstock, England

The day is sunny! We leave our site by 8.30 and are at the palace before 9.

Parking near an entrance gate, we have breakfast and will wait until the gates open. We are disturbed by a knock on the door informing us that this is private property and we cannot park here. Explaining that we are waiting for the gates to open so we can go in, we are informed that they are open now. If we pay our daily entrance fee we can go in.

Paying our fee is not so simple. The technology fails and he cannot print tickets. There is a deal on whereby a daily ticket can be swapped for a one year pass. We opt for that and, after paying, are directed to the booth where the conversion can take place.

The palace is the usual awe inspiring over the top grandeur. The areas we can look at are in beautiful condition and the gardens are magnificent. Overall, it is probably the best palace of the five or six we have seen. The palace was a gift from a grateful Queen Anne to the Duke of Marlborough following a victorious battle at Blenheim (Anglicised name) where the superpower French were defeated. The queen granted the grounds and offered to pay for a house of appropriate grandeur. The grandeur turned out to be somewhat excessive and no such offers were subsequently made .

First we pass through an exhibition dedicated to Winston Churchill. Included are copies of paintings done by him. He was quite an accomplished painter and it was one of his loves in life but a pursuit he believed he had much to learn about. Also are greetings cards painted by him and distributed through Hallmark through a friendship with its founder. A lot of persuasion by Hallmark was required to get Winston’s permission.

There is a tour, given by a dapper Englishman who speaks without pause for the 45 minute duration. His mannerisms, gesticulations and the odd one liner make for a very camp but informative performance.

There is a second tour of the palace which is an audio visual immersion tour. We are ushered through one door at a time into rooms which are made up to show various aspects of the palace’s history; from building to current times. Character actors speak to us from wall monitors telling us various stories.

On completion of the tours we venture into the very extensive grounds. Our first walk is around the large lake which was built by ‘Capability’ Brown. Up to 7 metres deep, it holds ½ million cubic metres of water. There is a rose garden along the way and a cascade at one end which one can hear from some distance away, an intended requirement of his design.

Further over from there is a Secret Garden and other ornamental features, as always on a grand scale. I find it difficult to reconcile the value to the community of the structures created against the cost to the society of the time. We saw recently in Painswich that many factory owners had vastly opulent lifestyles while many of their workers lived in poverty. Perhaps, today, we see a flatter level so that the degree of opulence is lessened along with the level of poverty. Morally more acceptable but maybe culturally of lesser value to future generations. I think I prefer today’s balance.

But back to Blenheim, after the Secret Garden, Ro is running low on energy because she is still unwell. However she wants to see the formal garden which fortunately is accessed by a little train which we passed near the entrance. A ten minute wait, a five minute trip and we are at the garden. There is a museum of old farm implements, some children’s play equipment and a maze.

The maze is of centuries old yew trees. We enter and can hear others some distance away pacing along the quite wide tracks. The track to a raised lookout is quite straightforward. However, Ro is running low on energy and recalls a sign suggesting one allow ½ hour to complete the maze. We bail out, retracing our steps and return to the little train which we probably would have missed had we persevered.

Alighting the train, it is a five minute walk back to the van and a refreshing cup of coffee.

As we are due in Orpington tomorrow, 4 hours away, we want to make a good start in case the traffic tomorrow closer to London is a diabolical as we have been lead to believe it is.

We want to skirt the Greater London Area so head toward NewForest which we have been told is worth a visit anyway. Despite having selected Avoid Motorways, we drive most of the way on motorways but the traffic is tolerable and the lane hopping required for passing is not too arduous.

Arriving at our chosen campsite, we search the named area. It is called the Deer Hunter and despite finding an Inn of that name, there is no campsite. The manager of the Inn sees our plight and informs us that the campsite closed as it had no license. There is nothing close we are told so we look for our usual wild camp.

Just up the road is a forest track which will do us. As Ro is still feeling quite nauseous, I walk back to the Deer Hunter for a pint of Guinness and fish and chips. There is a large group there and the barman having got me my pint says they cannot serve me until 9. Great! But a quick word with the New Zealand manager and I have my dinner.

I have a quiet comfortable night but unfortunately Ro’s night is otherwise. We need to get her to a doctor. At least here she can communicate her condition in English.

Wednesday 26th June 2013 Newforest, England

Leaving early, we expect to be in Orpington quite early. Before 9am, Thomas tells us.

But as we have not renewed our Live Service, Thomas does not know we are in for a long traffic jam. It takes one hour to clear and we arrive at the parking place where we will meet Janice and Allan at 10 am rather than 9. As we have not had breakfast, the hour until we meet them is spent doing that.

We are tidied and ready when they arrive. The site of the jazz festival is only 5 minutes away but down the usual narrow road. Allan warns me of a blind corner where some drivers come around on 2 wheels, but as he is in front, we are secure.

Within half an hour we are sited and ready to set up. However Ro is still feeling unwell so she returns with Allan and Janice while I set up. They will return at 5pm as we have very kindly been invited for dinner and to spend the night at their home. In Ro’s current state that is an absolute blessing.

The intention is for her to visit a doctor during the afternoon but when they return for me, that has not happened as Ro had hoped the changed conditions would fix hers.

Instead we will launch into British Health tomorrow before the festival starts at 7.30pm.

The evening is spent very pleasantly in their home and we turn in about 11pm.

Thursday 27th June 2013 Sidcup, England

Ro has had another uncomfortable night. We go to the local hospital’s Urgent Care centre and unexpectedly are able to access their system without cost. The wait is, as with our experience of hospitals in Australia, significant. By midday we have seen a very competent doctor who says the symptoms fit many conditions and he wants blood tests. But that requires a visit to another hospital where we wait a similar period. Eventually, although there is no obvious cause, more serious causes are eliminated and she is prescribed some acid reducing medication, some anti nausea tablets and some Gaviscon, an over the counter stomach lining medication. It is the last which removes the symptoms and within a few hours, she is nearly back to normal.

So it is that by 7.30 we are ready to enjoy the jazz festival.

There is a marquee where the musicians set up and a beer tent supplying 20 or so different brews from local microbreweries as the festival is both a jazz and beer festival.

The first night features younger musicians. The first group we don’t enjoy much but the second and particularly the third are wonderful. Although the weather is not very warm, the marquee is although the seats are less than comfortable after a time.

We stay until the end, about 11.30pm then turn in.

Friday 28th June 2013 Orpington, England

We had intended to see Chartwell House, the family home of Winston Churchill, but it is raining and it looks to stay that way.

Janice suggests a stately home instead which is National Trust and indoors so we will visit that and Chartwell on another day. The home we visit is Knole which is 30 minutes away.

Along the way we stop to sort out a SIM issue in connecting to the internet. While Allan and I visit the telephone shop, Ro and Janice go shopping. The 15 minutes we wait for the SIM issue to be corrected sees Janice loaded with shoes and a hand bag. A bit rough! I get my SIM issue fixed free and Allan’s credit card gets thrashed! Pardon the apparent chauvinism, but I am a tart for a one liner. (or is tart P in C also.)

As it is lunch time, we visit a pub which is very nice. Pubs in England are suffering since the smoking ban came in and those who do not close are moving up market, so dining facilities are improving. After a delicious meal we continue to Knole.

The home is grand but somewhat dingy. It is in quite original condition in some areas bit in others there has been extensive water damage which is slowly being repaired. We look through, perhaps, 10 rooms, one of which is particularly grand. It is called the King’s room and was a feature in many stately homes. The room was decorated lavishly on the off chance that the king would visit even though that likelihood was close to zero. It was as much a status symbol as a practicality.

There is also an ancient deer herd introduced by Henry 8^th for hunting. We see many animals grazing calmly, the threat of being dinner having disappeared many years ago.

We are back at the festival by 7.30 for the next three acts. The acts vary in quality and appeal, mostly a subjective decision as the level is very high.

Again we stay to the end and are in bed a bit after midnight after showers.

Saturday 29th June 2013 Orpington, England

After a lazy start, we swim in the perfect temperature pool and generally relax until 2.15pm when there is what is termed an Umbrella Parade. Lead by Harry Strutters Jive and Swing band, a procession of painted people and umbrellas follows a serpentine path around the campsite in the form of a Trad Jazz march.

The rest of the afternoon is spent outside the marquee on the grass in what passes for sunshine. The sides of the marquee have been removed for the afternoon so we relax on our banana lounges which are marginally more comfortable than the chairs inside.

The bands are again of high quality but not always to our taste. One such group consists of a lead tenor saxophonist who could be Count Dracula, a drummer who by his expression is as pained by his playing as we are and some other musicians, loosely so called in our opinion. Their playing is frenetic and seemingly independent of one another. We think they should have been billed “Count Dracula and his Zombies featuring Saxophony Cacophany “. But they weren’t.

Fortunately acts not to our liking are few. We are enjoying the festival immensely and hope to fit it into next year’s travels.

However, our fortune in enjoying the festival is countered by Allan’s misfortune. Last night he had commented about the pesky mole mounds around their camp site. But it is the mole hill he does not see which is his undoing. Under the ground sheet is a tunnel of sufficient depth for him to badly twist his ankle. It turns out that the ligament has partially torn, a nasty injury which will require him to be immobilised for some days. Our plans had been to see London with Janice and Allan as guides and to see the famous Mousetrap on Monday night. Perhaps appropriate to observe the best laid plans of mice and men…………..

While Allan keeps weight of his foot, we listen to more jazz in the marquee.

We are in bed again by midnight looking forward to tomorrow’s offerings.

Sunday 30th June 2013 Orpington, England

A beautiful day dawns promising a day of sunshine. After breakfast and a swim we read and relax until midday when we are promised a piano feast.

Allan and Janice have another engagement today which does not require much moving about, so as they head off to that, we get to the marquee on time so as not to miss the pianist.

The artist is Keith Nichols and he is a vastly accomplished jazz pianist and very entertaining. We are enthralled with jazz from the 1920s, some played at blinding speed. All the artists we have watched love jazz and Keith is no exception. After an encore, I call out a request for his favourite piece from any genre. His answer is that all he has been playing fits exactly that category.

Another band starts a bit later. Their jazz is less structured and includes so much embellishment on the base melody as to render it unrecognisable. Not our cup of tea really.

Returning to the van via the beautifully warm swimming pool, we go for a walk around the surrounding forest before joining Julie and Kevin, some other friends of Allan and Janice, for dinner.

The people we have met as organisers or visitors are helpful, friendly and fun to be with. It has been a memorable weekend.

After dinner we listen to the final group, a pianist, a bass guitarist and a clarinettist/saxophonist/singer. They are a fitting end for the festival. Highly competent in each area, they have a wonderful rapport with one another and the audience. It is with a degree of sadness we listen to the dying notes of their final piece. The compare thanks all and specifically those who have organised the event. It has run for the last 6 years and will continue next year. I think it may be the cornerstone around which we plan our itinerary.

So we retire for our last night here. Allan and Janice have very kindly offered to have us stay with them for a few days as we tour London. We can leave the van at the camp site to avoid parking problems.

Monday 1st July 2013 Orpington, England

The wind is a bit cool but the sun is shining. We have the morning to pack up and have time for a swim before doing so.

Allan and Janice had not returned last night contrary to their intentions. Their day had been interrupted by hospital visits to check that there were no broken bones. This has altered our plans a little in that we will drive the 5 miles to their home in Sidcup.

By lunch time we are ready to leave so after a quick bite of lunch we are away.

In discussions we think with a bit of toing and froing, the van should fit in their front yard with room to spare for their cars, which is great as parking otherwise will be a bit of a pain. Fortunately we do fit.

We are supposed to be going to Agatha Christie’s long running play “Mousetrap” tonight, tickets to which we had purchased some months ago. We have purchased four tickets but Allan’s plight has upset that as the doctors yesterday very strongly advised against much movement for the next few days.

Janice has found a friend who will utilize the extra ticket . We leave at 5.30pm to catch the train from Sidcup to Charring Cross. It is a trip we will repeat over the next few days.

After a half hour trip we climb out and exit the station opposite Trafalgar Square. A ten minute walk and we reach St Martin’s where Mousetrap has been staged continuously for 60 years. This performance is number 25,255. Our tickets need to be picked up from the box office then we have 45 minutes to have something to eat.

A small pub nearby has pea and ham soup which can be supplied quickly so we opt for that. The pub is called The Two Brewers and typically early 20^th century or a bit older. It would be nice to savour the atmosphere but the play starts soon so we cannot linger.

Our seats are right in the front of the dress circle and provide a great view except for the brass handrail against the balcony wall. I am a bit too tall so spend the performance peering above or below the rail to view the stage.

The story is a typical Agatha Christie murder mystery set in the 1950s or thereabouts. It takes place in one room which looks quite authentic as one might expect after 60 years of productions. The characters provide good entertainment and, to their credit, keep the performance fresh. Of course, they have not done 25000 performances. Perhaps only 1000 so they should be fresh.

There is an intermission where we have a drink in the tiny bar then the performance continues to the unexpected end. As we applauded the actors, one asks the audience not to give away the ending to potentially future patrons. We had not known the ending so it must have been a reasonably well kept secret over the 60 years.

Arriving back at Sidcup, we walk for another 12 or so minutes back to Allan and Janice’s home and enjoy our most comfortable night in weeks in a normal bed.

Tuesday 2nd July 2013 Sidcup, England

Today we will explore London ourselves. We intend getting a hop on hop off bus for two days to explore London then relying on the tube Thursday and Friday.

Walking to the station about 10 minutes away we purchase two Offpeak Travel Cards for 17 GBP. This allows us to use rail, tube and buses from 9.30 am until 4am the next day. For some strange reason, that ticket is slightly cheaper than the Offpeak Return ticket we purchased last night despite covering more transport forms. Despite that, transport seems quite expensive here; certainly compared with cost of the Metro in Paris.

Just outside Charing Cross we see the HOHO us we have been advised to use. For 72 GBP we purchase two two day passes. These include a boat trip on the Thames and three walking tours.

The bus stop is a few hundred metres away and we have a little difficulty in locating it. When we do, the bus is just about to leave. The upper deck is open and the sky, though overcast, looks like it will not drop rain on us. It is coolish but the upper deck provides a far better view.

There are three routes we can take. The red route takes up from Trafalgar square , across London Bridge, back across Tower Bridge then along to the houses of parliament and Big Ben. Here we alight with the intention of going by river to Greenwich.

The trip on the river takes one hour. We travel past the London Eye and the recreated Globe theatre and under Tower Bridge, beyond which converted warehouses and more recent blocks of apartments are densely set on both banks. The colours are beigy and in our opinion could do with some colour highlights. The slightly dull effect is exacerbated by the dull skies and the low water which exposes mud on both banks. The Thames is tidal here and varies by 6 metre.

At Greenwich we walk up to the time ball. It is a steep walk to the group of buildings which sit high on a hill to allow visibility for ships which coordinated their chronometers at midday in the early 1800s.

Lunch consisted of a traditional pie, mash and peas in a refurbished pie shop. A choice of gravy or liquor was available. Ro tried the liquor. It was like a parsley and pea soup which was liberally poured over the meal. A little like an up side down South Australian Pie Floater.

Returning on the boat, we get off at the Tower of London and get on the HOHO bus again. Being a tourist is quite tiring so it is a good way to relax while still seeing the sights. We stay on the bus for a circuit then get off at Saint Paul’s Cathedral, although we expect that it is probably too late to visit tonight. We walk around the base then down to the Millennium foot Bridge which is an interesting suspension bridge, the opening of which was marred by excessive movement when throngs of people first crossed it. It was closed the afternoon it opened and was subsequently modified to prevent the oscillations. The name it earned of the Widbly Wobbly bridge remains today.

The recreated Globe theatre is close and we and have a pint of Guinness before walking back to Charing Cross, viewing Tower Bridge in the twilight.

We are back to Sidcup by 10pm where we talk with Allan and Janice until midnight then go to bed.

Wednesday 3rd July 2013 Sidcup, England

We are back on the train by 9.31am, the first off peak service available.

First we want to do the guided walk to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. The group is large and the tour guide, who is a Michael Palin lookalike, strides out with a Kate and William flag held high above his head. We are told that this is a special time because for three weeks, the Grenadier Guards replace the Coldstream Guards. Or some such. I suspect that every group would be told they are lucky for some reason.

The guards used to be made up only of males taller than 5’ 10” but today all comers are allowed. There are three women in this guard and at least one looks quite short on her horse. However their turnout is spectacular. The British know how to do pomp and ceremony.

Our walk finishes at the palace. What to do now? Harrods is on our must see list. Perhaps a London Taxi ride there. A family has just left a taxi so we hail that. “Where to, gov” says the driver (or maybe I have watched too many British productions) and we are off to Harrods. The tight turning circle is utilized as the taxi does a U turn. Our ride is mostly sitting in the traffic and the driver apologises and says we should be there in 10 minutes. He manoeuvers the cab around back streets, chatting amicably after I initiate a conversation. 10 GBP lighter, we exit the cab and enter the iconic Harrods.

The escalator silently transports us to the first floor. Casually glancing at the price tag of 1400 GBP for a set of sheets, we consider the bedding in our van is adequate and instead move on to the food hall. Perhaps we will decide that the cheese in the fridge is adequate, too. Entering the food hall is like stepping back to the 19^th century. The halls are tiled in pastel yellow tiles with pastel patterns, stained glass illuminated ceilings and ornate wrought iron arches. There is a huge range of food in multiple halls and the attendants are all dressed in period costume. It is unlike anything else we have seen.

A cup of coffee would be nice. So how to find somewhere to have some? Asking attendants, we are directed to various areas and finally settle on The Tea Room where we order coffee and cake from a waiter in also period costume. It is beautifully presented and an enjoyable experience. After coffee, we go further up the store, looking at the sports floor and then the toy department, the latter of which is quite spectacular. In addition to the usual range of toys there are soft toy giraffes, rhinoceros and lions all very large, both physically and fiscally. Returning to street level, we take the Egyptian elevator which has Egyptian columns, sphinx , hieroglyphics and other such common or garden department store adornments.

Now we walk to the HOHO green route which takes us around St Pancras station and the hotel which has recently been returned from the brink. It was a wonder in its day but having been built without the emerging fashionable en suites, was doomed before its time. It has now been returned to its former glory but incorporating the now indispensable en suites for each room.

Returning to the City of London, we board a bus on the blue route and travel around Hyde Park and environs. We are beginning to get a feel for the relative location of the many icons whose names and facades we have known so well all our lives.

We get off the bus at Piccadilly Circus and look at the massive electronic bill boards before looking in the souvenir shop Cool Britannia where everything typically British can be bought with a Made in China sticker. I guess the place of manufacture does not prevent it being typically British.

Pub meals have become quite a favourite with us, especially the old ones which ooze character. Down a small street we find one at which we have our dinner, mine washed down with the now usual pint of Guinness.

After dinner, we walk to the nearby Piccadilly tube station and take the underground to Charing Cross then the usual rail trip back to Sidcup.

Thursday 4th July 2013 Sidcup, England

We take the 9.31 to London intending to visit St Paul’s first. As our two day pass is valid for 48 hours we can take the HOHO bus to St Paul’s before it runs out.

The days are getting warmer so the outside is more popular. We are lucky to get some seats when some rather large Americans alight. They have taken their time descending the narrow staircase, perhaps because one or more got stuck, so now people are streaming on board while the Americans are exiting. One calls out loudly “Stand back ma’am” and they leave allowing the bus suspension to return to its normal position. Although the route is now familiar, something new is revealed each trip.

Alighting at the St Paul’s stop we join a queue to pay our 30 GBP for entry. This covers the cathedral, the crypt and climbing the 528 steps to the internal Whispering Gallery and external Stone Gallery and Golden Gallery viewing platforms.

An audio guide is provided and, under its guidance, we spend all morning looking through the cathedral. The wow factor is substantial. The architecture is awe inspiring and the mosaic on the ceilings are spectacular. Despite seeing many cathedrals over our travels, we are still impressed by all we see. Mind you, we are unlikely to see better than St Paul’s .

We descend to the crypt which is the biggest in Europe, covering the same area as the cathedral floor. It has tombs of Nelson, Wellington, Christopher Wren and numerous others together with more recent memorials to military persons who died in the various conflicts. It is easy to spend an hour combing the area.

After a late morning tea of coffee and cake in the crypt, we return to the floor and start our 550 step ascent. First stop is the Whispering Gallery, a mere 257 steps above us. We have already gazed at the dome from the cathedral floor as it towered above us, fulfilling its task of belittlement in the presence of God. The climb is good aerobic exercise. Initially the Whispering Gallery is more a puffing gallery but as our respiration returns to normal, we can enjoy the space. If one speaks quietly somewhat obliquely into the wall, those on the other side of the 34 metre gallery can hear what is spoken. On this occasion, there is a choir practising on the cathedral floor so we hear their singing instead. Probably a fair swap.

The Stone Gallery is a further 120 steps up mainly iron spiral stairs through the cavity between the domes. The inner dome is much flatter than the external dome, built that way to provide appropriate visual impact both inside and outside the cathedral. The 360 degree view is a wonderful way to see London, surpassed in this building only by the view from the Golden Gallery, another 150 steps higher. We climb more spiral steps and walk through narrow stone stairways to reach the goal. Unfortunately the number of people wanting the experience means there is little time to savour the view.

Although it is now 4pm, we have not had lunch. We want to visit the British Museum but we are running out of time. Walking to the museum we see a small pub and think we have time for a quick drink and meal before a brief visit. By the time we have finished, we only have 45 minutes before closing. This is enough to get a quick appreciation of the building without much appreciation of the contents. Perhaps this will be for our next London visit.

A tube back to Charing Cross and we return to Sidcup to join Allan and Janice for dinner. It is now we realize lunch at 4 pm was not such a good idea.

Friday 5th July 2013 Sidcup, England

The day looks too good for walking around London. Perhaps today is the day for Charwell as that will involve a lot of time in the garden.

It is about half an hour away and we arrive about 11.00. Our National Trust membership provides free entry to both the house and the extensive gardens. To avoid too many people in the house at one time., all visitors are given a ticket with a 15 minute window for entry. Ours is for 1.15pm so we have time to explore the gardens and studio.

Winston Churchill started painting at the age of 41 following a severe bout of depression. Over the remainder of his life he painted over 500 paintings at quite a masterful level. One painting sold recently for 1 million GBP but it is difficult to remove the contribution his fame made to the value. His paintings do have significant intrinsic artistic merit, though. When a friend encouraged him to enter a painting in a contest he was reluctant as his fame might secure a good result rather that the painting’s merit. His friend suggested entering under a pseudonym and entry by another person. The painting won First Prize. We gained the impression that, although Churchill was described as arrogant, he was quite a modest man. When he received the Nobel Prize, he commented that he thought they were making a mistake but that if they had no reservations, he would have none also.

The house is delightful. Whereas palaces feel artificial and not at all homely, Chartwell embodies warmth and homeliness. The layout and décor helps. One of Churchill’s cigars is lying unlit in an ashtray next to is chair. In the studio, his painter’s smock was draped over his chair, there to use on his return.

The house has three levels all left, at the request of his daughters, as they were when he lived there. None is grandiose but all reflect his interests. Some of the gifts from heads of state fit into the grandiose category but they are displayed in a museum room which was Churchill’s idea as he considered the gifts as the nation’s gifts, not his.

After coffee and cake in the restaurant we continue around the gardens where we see two walled gardens, one of which is a kitchen garden, the substantial brick wall of which was built mostly by Churchill after his purchase of Chartwell around 1920. He also built a brick child’s play house about 3 metre square with a tiled roof. He was indeed a multi talented individual.

Leaving Chartwell about 5.30pm we drive to Orpington where we will stay the night at the jazz campsite. There is an ‘Open Mike’ evening where people showcase their talents or otherwise. There is more than a little which can be described as otherwise.

Saturday 6th July 2013 Orpington, England

Today we leave Orpington to visit Mavis and Terry in Essex. After a leisurely morning which includes a swim and a forest walk, we drive for a bit over an hour to Hadleigh in Essex arriving about 2pm.

Finding Mavis and Terry’s house is straightforward and we spend a relaxing afternoon chatting before having a lovely chicken dinner.

We have an early night in a comfortable bed. Tomorrow we are going to a car boot sale at 5.30am, so the early night is appreciated.

Sunday 7th July 2013 Hadleigh, England

Not only does it get dark very late, it gets light very early. In our van, we close curtains and un screens so it remains dark even when the sun is shining outside. Not so in our bedroom. Despite curtains, it is broad daylight by 4.30am. Getting up at 5.30 seems perfectly normal.

The reason we are getting up so early is that Mavis deals a little in bric a brac. An early start is necessary as all the good buys go early.

We arrive by 6 and the market is in full swing. There are hundreds of vendors selling all kinds of wares which range from unmitigated old junk to new items, many items of which are also junk. To make money from dealing, one needs a keen eye and a good knowledge of the worth of items. We don’t have that but we do have a list of things we need in the van.

A replacement mug is needed and not surprisingly there is china available on 50% of stalls. The vendor wants 20p. The question is: should we haggle. This is half the fun we are told but the vendor has made a mistake in not asking 10 pounds to start with. If we say we won’t pay a penny more than 18p, we get stuck with 2p of coppers. We recklessly hand over 20p without a murmur and the deal is struck. Further along I see a carbon monoxide detector and ask the price. 2pounds. We have occasionally felt a bit sleepy in the van when driving and wonder if carbon monoxide could be a cause. The monitor would eliminate or confirm that as a cause. I can do better than that I am sure. The site must be teeming with vendors selling carbon monoxide monitors. Alas, it proves not to be the case. I will have to haggle. Forty five minutes later, my mouth dry, I ask the vendor the price, hoping he will not remember me. Given that I am wearing an Australian hat complete with Boxing Kangaroos, dangling corks, “Give us a beer ya mug” slogan and have an Australian accent amongst a sea of limey voices, that surely is unlikely. The price it seems is still 2 pounds. I scrutinize the pack showing that I am a canny purchaser. “When were they made?” I ask. He shrugs. However when I point out a little label saying “Replace by November 2011” he comments the manufacture date is 5 years before that. “1 pound” says I, confident I am on a winner. “The price is 2 ………. Ah what the hell, OK 1 pound.”, he says. “Yes!” I say silently to myself, punching the air. That, dear friends, is how it is done. Saving ourselves from carbon monoxide poisoning is arguably worth 1 pound. Assuming it works.

By 9.30 Mavis has combed the stalls and bought a few bits and pieces, but nothing very valuable. Thems the breaks. We have breakfast then go out for a drive.

The day is very warm so the beach is an obvious destination…….. for everyone. The roads are packed so we go elsewhere. There is a pub called The Plough and Sail which has ceiling beams just at or below head height. It has a nice garden where we have a drink then lunch. Within walking distance is a boat harbour which has its share of derelict vessels, both in the yard and in the water, which is absent as it is low tide.

The afternoon is spent relaxing before a light salad dinner in Mavis and Terry’s sizable garden.

As Mavis and Terry have commitments tomorrow, we will get a good sleep then head off toward Cambridge.

Monday 8th July 2013 Hadleigh, England

We are on the road by 10.30. First a bit of shopping to replenish our rather empty cupboards. Our usual local Lidl serves that purpose. We also visit a bank to transfer some money to Mavis and Terry to cover the van’s insurance.

Now to Cambridge. We have selected a campsite near Cambridge which we will use as a base. By the time we arrive there about 2.30, it is quite hot and we have a swim in the unheated but warm pool. Maybe we will veg out here and continue our tourist pursuits tomorrow.

That decided we enjoy the warmth of the uncharacteristically warm day and plan our day tomorrow.

The CO monitor I bought works but did not alarm when we were driving, meaning the slight diesel odour is not causing our slow demise. Notwithstanding, a dirty windscreen convinces us there is some fume ingress somewhere so application of sealant would be worthwhile. The afternoon provides an opportunity to apply that.

Tuesday 9th July 2013 Cambridge, England

We don’t get going as early as we would like partially because the weather is still lovely and we are somewhat seduced by it. But also because I wash the van and bicycles.

Finally we are on the road with the intention of using the Park n’ Ride service. However when we find the Park, its access gate is height limited and we can’t fit.

Continuing on to Cambridge, we drive to the colleges and end up a street where further progress is blocked by bollards. Retracing our path we find a street side park which is not full, presumably because we are not ’in term’. We can park for 50p per half hour.

First some lunch in the van before mounting our trusty freshly washed bicycles. The bikes are a great way to see the area, especially as it is so flat.

First stop is the Fitzwilliam Museum. This building is remarkably ornate and it has been said that it seems to compete with its contents. That is not an easy competition as the contents are made up of the most incredible treasures from all over the world. With limited time, we look at Greek ancient Greek and Egyptian treasures, including mummies and sarcophaguses, then spend some time looking at 19^th and 20^th century paintings. The entrance to the building, from which we exit, is reminiscent of the Paris Opera House. One could spend days here. Unfortunately time constrains us and we must be content with getting a feel for the museum and the area in general. Maybe we can come by here on another trip.

The camera tells us the memory is full so a quick trip back to the van provides us with the opportunity for afternoon tea as we get another memory card. It transpires that this is also full but we don’t want to dump to disc as yet so we will delete unwanted shots and cope until we can dump.

Now back to the colleges. We want to see the punts on the river so ride through small laneways to a bridge over the River Cam. It is quite narrow here but punts glide effortlessly or otherwise along the waterway. There is a punt hire just near the bridge giving us the opportunity to try it ourselves. For 14 pounds we can punt for 1 hour. It is 5pm and we can just get one hour before they close at 6.

We are given a few pointers by a scrawny Scotsman with long white hair and a white flowing beard. Probably Methusala’s brother. Standing on the stern of the long, narrow punt, I push the punting pole to the bottom, some 2 metres down. The punt glides forward…. toward the bank. I have been told the technique is to put the pole just in front of my leg on the right side and allow it to rub along the gunwale then continue pushing, hand over hand, before allowing the wooden pole to float to the surface. Then use the pole as a rudder to adjust the direction of the punt before repeating. Sounds fine in theory but the adjustment generally brings to punt almost to a stop.

Using a technique somewhere between Peter Garret’s Midnight Oils dancing moves and Marcel Marceau on ice, we make it upstream to the Mathematical Bridge where we turn and go downstream to the Bridge of Sighs, looking at all the well known colleges on the way. As I am concentrating on not falling in more than the passing scenery, I will look at Ro’s photos later to see what the place looks like.

Toward the end of our hour, I am able to provide the usual comic routine to onlookers when the pole sticks in the mud. At least I have the presence of mind not to hold on and we glide poleless some meters along the river. We have been provided a paddle for this very eventuality, it having been explained as necessary for retrieving pole operators who fall in. At least I can use the paddle rather than having to swim back to the punt.

Our punting complete, we ride further along the river and around the colleges. As it is late, the colleges are closed to visitors but we can see the courtyards and buildings from the paths we ride.

We had hoped to go to an evensong but are informed that these occur during term on the advertised days but at different times out of term. Looks like we miss out.

As it is getting late we look for a pub for dinner. There is one which does not look too touristy and order dinner while having a pint. The chef left today so there is a 40 minute wait but we are happy to enjoy the atmosphere.

By 9 we are back at the van. We will return to last night’s campsite and head for Norwich tomorrow.

Wednesday 10th July 2013 Cambridge, England

Today we head for the Norfolk Broads and Norwich. Setting Thomas for Reedham which we understand is in the Broads, we arrive about 1pm. The village is typical with meandering streets, some thatched cottages and a river with a number of different crafts bobbing by the bank.

When we were with Terry and Mavis, one of our tasks had been to organise an oil change for the van. That had not happened at least partly because it was the weekend. On Monday on our way to Cambridge we had purchased a filter and 6 litre of oil so all we now need is someone with facilities to drain the old oil. There is a marine repair shop by the river so I ask whether he knows somewhere that could do the change. He suggests a town, Acle, nearby. I have been talking to Ro in what I perceive to be various English accents. The accent of the man is much the same as I have just been using. Ro dares me to speak to him that way but I pike. What I think sounds like their accent probably doesn’t at all.

We are directed to “Droive to Acle and just as we enr we will see a koind of roundaboot. Then, before you can gather your senses, turn roit at next road”. There is an industrial estate there which has some mechanics shops.

Following instructions to the letter, we turn right before gathering our senses and find the industrial estate. One place cannot do it as we cannot get into the building. But there is a motorhome service place at the end and we enquire there. The place is a junk heap with mess everywhere and bits of vehicles scattered about. He could not do it today. I ask whether we could use his facilities and he agrees. All we need is a drain tank and a bit of space and he has both. Driving up onto our levelling ramps, there is easy access to the sump and filter. The engine is quite hot so we let it cool for half an hour as we have lunch. After lunch, after 15 minutes I have replaced the oil and filter and we are ready to go. Giving the mechanic a koala and ten pounds for his trouble we are on our way.

As we drive out, we see the showroom opposite the estate. It is rather more tidy. There is a motorhome advertised for 27,000 pounds which has very low miles. We look through it as we may consider trading ours in on one we can import into Australia. It is well laid out and would suit us however has no air conditioning, a must for home use. Still it is a starting point.

Near the coast is a National Trust pumping windmill called Horsey Pump near the village of Horsey. Who could resist going to anywhere called Horsey Pump? Not us. It is well within the Norfolk Broads and is 20 minutes away. Arriving about 4.45 we hope it will be open. It is and we climb the 50 foot high windmill. It was built in 1910 to pump out seawater from the surrounding low lands which periodically flood and would do so regularly without it. Today an electric pump fulfils the role. Although the windmill is not working, we can clearly see the size of the sails and mechanics of operation, including the fantail which keeps the sail into the wind as it shifts in direction. This innovation is a small wind driven rotor at right angles to the main sail and sitting behind the rotating head. If the wind is more than 10 degrees away from dead ahead, the fan rotor moves. It is coupled to a drive on the head which moves it back to within 10 degrees of dead ahead.

We walk out to a point with a view across the small lake, alle3d Horsey Meer, into which some canals feed. There is abundant wildlife here but we do not spy any.

Our chosen campsite is 10 miles the other side of Norwich. Thomas plots a route below Norwich but we request an alternate route which takes us above Norwich through very picturesque villages and laneways.

We arrive at our campsite at 7 and are able to get a site for the night after some discussions on a scratchy mobile line. The site is well developed and the showers are untimed and hot, which has become our measure for all campsites.

Thursday 11th July 2013 Norwich, England

The weather is again pleasant and we drive into Norwich with the idea of parking and either walking or riding to the sights we want to see.

There is a car park close to the church and museum we want to see. We walk rather than ride as we see more walking perhaps at the expense of covering less distance.

Our walk takes us by the river past a naval boat used as a headquarters for naval cadets, over the river and up to Norwich Castle which is now a museum. Having limited time and knowing how museums are black holes for time, rather than entering the museum, we walk into the old section. This area consists of the usual narrow laneways and includes a wonderful arcade which seems to specialize in toy shops. The floors are mosaic with brass inlay and look like they were laid yesterday.

Walking further through a market we come across more laneways, one of which has a small shop called “Miss Biddy’s Tea Rooms” It is decorated in 1930s style with china and furniture packed into every corner and available for sale and 1920s music playing. The wall paper is typical of the time. There is an upstairs eating area, a downstairs tea room and a take away area which does not detract from the period charm. The attendants are in period dress.

We enquire upstairs about vacancies but the place is full and fully booked. However a table will become free in about half an hour if we wait. The tea room is so wonderfully evocative of the period that we are prepared to wait. We had just previously visited a shop which we left as there was nothing which took our fancy. This place by contrast could have served stale sandwiches and would still have been worth waiting for.

Within half an hour we are shown to our table, a folded up treadle sewing machine. Fortunately we order dishes which don’t take much room as the available room is severely limited. But drinking soup through a straw with my knees in my armpits has its own special charm and we enjoy every minute.

Leaving the tea rooms, we walk to the cathedral which is listed as a must see. When we see it, we agree. Although one would think by now we had been wowed out, we discover we have not been. It is gargantuan. There is an entrance through a medieval gate, little of which remains standing but behind which a visitor centre has very sympathetically been incorporated. From there we enter the cathedral. Entry is free via a cash register where it is suggested we donate 5 pounds each. There is no compulsion to donate, merely the embarrassment of walking past the till when everyone else donates. There doesn’t even seem to be a Seniors Donation.

The donation is well worth it. The cathedral, built over 900 years ago, has fanned vaulting over its ceiling and is said to be the best example of it worldwide. Here where the ribs of the vaults cross at the apex of the ceiling are decorative round shapes called bosses, 1200 in all. Our camera comes in handy to zoom in on detail 150 feet up which otherwise we would not see. It is undoubtedly spectacular. The overall condition is very good and we spend an hour looking through the various areas.

Walking back to the van through winding streets we head for our campsite which is 2 ½ hours away. When we arrive we find the campsite in disarray as it is being rebuilt as a resort. We end up staying in a meadow with a few caravans but no other occupants. The facilities leave something to be desired but it is only for one night. The option is to wild camp but this year ‘s experience of being bailed up by farmers and property owners has made us more wary. Also, there seems to be less opportunity in UK presumably due to the higher population density.

Friday 12th July 2013 Ratby, England

We are away by 9.30 intending to reach Whitby, some 3 hours away. However we are seduced by a stately home, Hardwick Hall, about one hour away.

The National Trust entry has a note not to use Satnav but I pay insufficient attention. What could a satnav do wrong? It has the place listed so it must know where it is.

Of course it knows where the attraction is. Unfortunately it knows about the back entrance which is locked. Once the car using Satnav in front of us has departed, we can do a 25 point turn and find the front entrance. This is up laneways where both mirrors brush hedges but fortunately Satnavs taking people to the wrong entrance know not to use these laneways so we encounter no cars travelling toward us.

The long road to the hall has numerous cattlegrids as it is a working farm. One has no fence either side so presumably relies on cattle being prostrate with laughter to contain the herds. We had read that there is space for 600 cars and we now see why. There must be 300 or 400 today; not even a weekend.

We hear a talk about how Bess Hardwick rose from an impoverished girl of 16 to being the most powerful woman in England behind the queen. The hall is very symmetrical with large amounts of glass, then a huge extravagance. The hall was filled with light but today is quite dark due to the need to minimize sunlight for reasons of conservation.

We move through the various grand rooms of the mansion then down to the smaller but still opulent living quarters. However our meanderings are cut short by a fire alarm. We are all ushered quickly but calmly to the exit and it is then that we get an appreciation of how many people were in the building when it seemed sparsely populated as we moved through. It gets about 100,000 visitors a year.

Next to the hall is the old hall which is just a shell of about 4 storeys. We can climb to the top up an existing stairway and we get a wonderful view from the top although the day is somewhat hazy.

Next is a visit to the restaurant where we each order a salad, the order for which gets mislaid. After half an hour and some enquiries by us, they arrive. To offset the slow service, we seem to have been given double onion. This is unfortunate as our order requested no onion. I point this out and we are offered free drinks which we later accept in the form of two coffees.

By now it is past closing time but we still have the walled garden to see. This is not locked and there are some stragglers so we have 15 minutes or so before we leave.

As it is 6pm we don’t have time to reach our chosen campsite so instead settle for one 10 miles away, unfortunately in the opposite direction to where we want to travel. But it is only a half hour away so we will stop there.

When we arrive at the place Thomas has guided us to, there is no sign of the campsite. We have a map which gives us some more clues and eventually we find it. There is one more obstacle. A locked gate. As the campsite is in a residential area , there are control gates at strategic positions Two cars exit and we ask the first about the campsite. It is there but we need a a code to get in. It is usual to make a booking and we have not. We walk through a pedestrian gate and toward where we think the campsite will be. However before we make much progress, the first car we saw has returned to lead us to the campsite.

It is beautifully lush with lots of grass, a pool, a sauna, a hot tub and friendly people. As tomorrow is predicted to be 30 degrees, we may stay here for a day or so for some R&R from tourist pursuits.

Saturday 13th July 2013 Nottingham, England

We will stay the day here. It is already pleasantly warm and the quiet, green surrounds and pool are all very seductive.

Our good samaritan of last night visits us and brings some milk, thinking we may be low. Between now and when we leave, we will have quite a lot of interaction with him. He is 87 and in his heyday he and his wife made up an acrobatic dancing team. He was a body builder and a local bobby and also played and still plays the organ. Quite a character and one with whom we share a lot of common thoughts.

Our day is spent reading, writing relaxing and a little van maintenance, albeit cosmetic maintenance. There are some transfers on the front and back which we would like to remove. A ladder is available nearby and in not much time the transfers are removed. Another quick wash and the van is looking very presentable.

The people here are very friendly and many come to speak with us having heard on the grapevine we are visitors from far flung Australia. About 5.30pm it is suggested we should take our bikes and ride to The Abbey a short distance away. It should be open late in summer.

Out the gate, turn left at the bottom of the hill, ride up a gentle slope, turn left and follow the road. Many years ago when their children were younger they used to walk to the Abbey on a Sunday afternoon. Sounds great and not too arduous as the day is still quite warm.

Within 15 minutes we are on our way. Coast down the hill and turn left. Up the gentle slope, puffing like steamtrains by the top, left on the road and coast down the not so gentle slope along a bitumen road ,which seems medieval in its state of repair, and within 3 km we are at the Abbey. The children were probably of Sherpa descent.

The Abbey is closed. The cathedral façade is standing but the cathedral behind is merely a grassy paddock. The outside of the Abbey is in fair condition but we don’t know the state if the inside. The gardens, too, are closed. All we can do is ride along the edge of the late which has somewhat stagnant water at various extremities.

We set off for the return trip. I can ride but Ro finds the supposedly gentle slope otherwise. We end up walking most of the way back to the camp. A refreshing swim returns us to comfort and we have a quiet night before bed at 10.30.

Sunday 14th July 2013 Nottingham, England

The day is not as warm as yesterday so the seductive surrounding is easier to resist. We will travel to York despite being given names of places nearby we ‘simply cannot miss’.

By the time we have chatted to Roy, our Samaritan friend for an hour or so and emptied and filled tanks, we leave around lunchtime.

We drive through verdant countryside and through small villages. Along the way we see a sign for Clumber Park, a National Trust site where we think we could stop for coffee. Out National Trust membership provides free entry but a five minute drive seems to take us nowhere. We stop by the road in a forest clearing which is delightful and have our coffee before returning to the park entry. Further up the road we discover another entrance within which is the Clumber Park home and gardens. However, we have since read the National Trust book and it notes that the manor was demolished many years ago so we may not have missed much.

By 3.30 we are in York. Our first stop is for provisions as they are quite low. Arriving at 3.45 we have 15 minutes until closing. We are last out.

Driving through York we are astounded at the number of people. Soon we see glimpses of the medieval city which is the most complete in Europe. This explains the crowds. But parking is not easy. As it is late, we will go to our camp site, 6 miles away, and return tomorrow.

We find our campsite easily and after a swim in the 30 degree pool, set up for the night.

Monday 15th July 2013 York, England

The morning is cloudless and warm. The seduction begins. We have a late breakfast then a swim. The seduction continues. It is only with superhuman fortitude that we depart for York which promises a tourist mecca. The mecca we look forward to: the tourists we don’t.

As fate would have it, it is not the tourists we should have feared but the local traffic aided and abetted by a road closure. Not content with leaving us idling in traffic for 45 minutes, the MotorHome nemeses then conspire to make every parking place we visit height restricted. Someone hates motorhomes. We even google motor home parking in York and are informed even the Park N Ride sites are height restricted. We begin to feel York does not want us.

When all else fails, go shopping….. at Lidl. They welcome shoppers of any creed. Their parks are not height restricted. So it is that we have coffee again in a Lidl carpark before purchasing those things we forgot yesterday.

We will try once a more before abandoning our search for a MH friendly park. Most areas around York are Permit Only or 1 hour paid parking. It is with great relief we find an area near a race course where we can park. Checking with a local, we determine that restrictions only apply on race days. Hooray!!

Unloading our trusty bikes we cycle in 28 degree heat to the walled city. The first attraction we visit is Clifford’s Tower, a ruin dating back to Roman times. We are inveigled into joining British Heritage rather than paying the 9 pounds to walk around a small shell of rock. Between British Heritage and National Trust, the remainder of our trip is largely predetermined. However, the view up the stone spiral staircase and around the top of the walls is priceless. The only question is: should we have paid 56 pounds for it.

It is from our 56 pound viewing point that we see the carpark immediately below us which takes motorhomes, delivery vans and all manner of over height vehicles.

Mounting our trusty bikes we cycle to Minster, the York cathedral build in the Gothic style which is considered the best example of that architecture. The streets are crowded and we doggedly avoid the streams of pedestrians. With just a smidgeon of conceit we observe that other cyclists will not brave the crowds. Our conceit is diminished by a sign at the far end proclaiming it a pedestrian precinct allowing no vehicles, including bicycles.

Entering the cathedral, awe struck as ever, we gaze on the vaulted nave which is a similar height to Norwich but significantly wider. The vaulting is far less complicated and ornate. Maybe we can move on without savouring all the architectural nuances the building has to offer.

Re entering the pedestrian precinct, this time, following an epiphany, on foot, we enjoy the meandering streets with eclectic architecture either side until we come across the “original Teddy Bear Shop” above which is a tea room which rather remarkably is empty. Despite the negative connotations that fortuitously empty places have had in the past, this one is delightful. We walk to the upper level where my hair rubs against the ceiling, the floors are far from level and the original internal timber beams are exposed. A fan tries to circulate the warm humid air and a small window is open to the street below.

I have coffee and cinnamon toast and Ro has a sundae and cold drink. Back at street level we return to our bikes and cycle to the Rail Museum. This is the largest rail museum in Europe and is crowded with tourists. Far from being the haunt of only rail enthusiasts, the museum has carriages once used by royalty, relics of the steam age, 100 locomotives(!!) and a number of model railways. These are all housed in a period railway station plus what may or may not be purpose built buildings. It is a somewhat unlikely but hugely popular attraction.

Mounting our bikes again, we use Thomas to guide us back to the van where we tie on the bikes and return to our camp site of last night. It is nice to return to a familiar site and we immediately have a swim in the beautifully warm pool.

Let’s hope tomorrow is lousy weather so we can make an early start. But, knowing our luck, it will probably be perfect again.

Tuesday 16th July 2013 York, England

Another perfect day. Two swims, a bit of van cleaning and vacuuming and we are reluctantly ready to move on.

Setting Thomas to Scarborough via non motorways we journey through the usual roads, varying from wannabe motorways to wannabe footpaths. We take a few roads which look to be closer to the coast and enjoy some off the beaten track views.

In Europe, temporary traffic lights are common where road works close one side of the road for 20 to 100 metres. Why they do this is unclear as the give and take driving required where cars may legally park and all but block off one lane require no such lights and seem to work without incident. One such set of lights in an out of the way road is showing red. We wait for some minutes, joking that we should turn off the engine as that normally hurries them up. We wait…. and wait….. and wait. Finally we turn off the engine and as the engine dies, the green light shines. Rarely do I have an epiphany ( apart from the one yesterday) but this is close. Don’t tell me there’s no Grand Design.

Continuing on with occasional glimpses of the sea, we arrive at Scarborough. As we drive along the beachfront road there are crowds of people, like ants, on both footpaths, on the brown sandy beach and even some in the water. Apart from the people in the water, this is quintessentially Britain at the Beach. The unseasonably hot weather helps and acres of pale skin are on show.

There are pinball parlours one after the other and a Luna Park. That there is no parking within this teaming mini metropolis goes without saying. That we don’t wish to park here also goes without saying. We continue on to a less populated area where we can stop and have coffee overlooking the remarkably calm sea where a wall allows us to see a disembodied head scooting up and down, presumably on a jetski.

We are happy to move on to Whitby along the coast road where, after 40 minutes we will reach Whitby Abbey, a gothic ruins which we want to see.

The first sight is quite breathtaking. The perfectly blue sky frames the remaining turrets and arches which are blackened with age. Bram Stoker used this abbey ruins as the setting of his book Dracula and it has an eeriness completely appropriate to that tale. However it also has a beauty about it and we keep looking at it as we approach.

It is an English Heritage site so our membership gives us free entry, including the audio guide, which is very informative. Ro has trouble knowing when to stop taking photos as each turn presents more magnificent images against the still perfect sky. I am taken by the numerous cross sections presented due to the ruination which show some of the techniques in building these astounding structures. We can see cross sections of vaulting, columns, walls, floors and more. The complete columns look like a series of individual semicircular columns around the circumference of the 1.5 metre diameter supports. However, the staggered cross section reveals that the segments are carved to look like separate columns but interleaved as one, two or three column segments. This gives architectural beauty but great structural integrity.

After two hours we have seen what we want and continue on to our campsite near Durham. We are delighted when Thomas says we have arrived at our destination and there is the gate. The site has untimed, hot showers so is a five star park on our scale.

Wednesday 17th July 2013 Durham, England

We have Beamish on our list and the locals advise us we will not be disappointed. It is called a ‘Living Museum’ and was proposed 30 years ago by a university lecturer who saw historic buildings being demolished and lost to posterity. Now the site is well developed with relocated structures in various authentic and historically correct periods over a 300 acre site. It is said that we will step back in time 100 years. If parking is close by and we step out of the van, we will only step back 80 years, but that is close enough.

It opens at 10 so we want to be on the steps by then. Unsurprisingly we are not but we are there by 10.20, just in time to slip in before 28 bus loads of children. Here’s hoping the 300 acres can absorb the not so little darlings without them getting under our feet. I am nothing if not tolerant.

An audio visual acquaints us with the times and what the site has to offer. Then out into the daylight and we are back in time. All volunteers and paid staff are in period dress; unpleasantly hot today we think. There is a 3 or 4 km long tramway with electric trams of various periods from late 1800s to 1940s. Trams are open double decked (very pleasant today) with one single decked one which looks more like a boat than a tram. Later we hear the driver referring to it as the boat. There are also replica double and single decked buses from similar periods, a steam train and horse drawn vehicles. As the entry ticket covers everything in the park, we are free to utilize all forms of transport. Well, not quite, as the steam train does not run today. But there is a steam driven merry go round which may be considered a form of transport. It is no more circular than is the tramway; just a smaller diameter.

First we tram it to the village. Here we can walk through upper and lower levels of houses, a solicitor’s office, a dentist’s surgery, a number of shops, a motor garage , a livery, a bank and , appropriately, a music teacher’s residence. The village is set up as authentic of the time, if somewhat smaller in area. For us, it is impossible to tell that it is other than authentic. Furnishings and finishes are of the period, which for this area is around 1913.

A horse drawn wagon has emerged from the livery. We hurry to its stop and can get a ride for about 2 km to the manor house. This is original. However, the layers of paint and trappings of modernity over the last 200 odd years have been stripped away leaving the building authentically early 1800s. We can walk to any room with only a cord at the door of most rooms preventing us from living within the space. This is better than any museum we have ever seen.

Visiting the colliery, home farm, village and manor takes us until 5pm when we get the last tram back. We had decided that we did not need another day but back at our campsite, the same as last night, we think there were some areas we missed. Out ticket entitles us to entry to the site for one year so maybe we will visit again tomorrow for an hour or two…….

Thursday 18th July 2013 Durham, England

We are going back to Beamish for a few hours as there are some things we have missed. We plan to be there by 10, the opening time. Unsurprisingly we are not. WE ARE THERE BY 9.35!!!

As the buses roll in, we read until 10 then go to the entrance. Feeling ever so pleased with ourselves, we walk past the lengthening queue, flash our Annual Tickets and proceed snootily to the entry. But we are called back for our tickets to be checked. Less snootily we proceed again to the entry.

There are crowds of people waiting for the tram so we think; to hell with it…. we will walk the 200 metre to the mine. Collecting hardhats from two coal wagons, we adjust them and enter the lamp room where we learn about different types of safety lamp. We will not require one as we only enter about 100 metre and there is 21^st century lighting installed. We also learn that the area we are in which was a working mine for over 100 years has been opened and recovered with reinforced concrete to protect the precious tourists. I can imagine that a collapse would be worse for business today than when the mine was operating. We stoop to walk through the mine, stopping at two points to learn about the life of a miner. It may come as no surprise that the life and life expectancy were both poor.

Next we cross to the Wagonway which has a replica of Stephenson’s Loco Motive, a two vertical cylinder engine which was one of the first forms of rail locomotion. The two cylinder shafts extend upward with cross beams connected to vertical shafts which in turn connect to the wheels. They are offset so that if one wheel is at top dead centre, the other is not. A horizontal shaft ties the two wheels together.

The Loco Motion takes some hours to get up a head of steam so it is not running yet. It will run about 1pm but we expect to be gone by then.

Next we take a tram to the village, 2 km away. We want to see the bank and Masonic Hall. We still have trouble believing that all which is here has been relocated within the past 30 years, with the exception of the farm, the manor and the drift mine. The bank, we learn, is actually two or three buildings, but still authentic to the period. We see the manager’s tiny office, the tellers area and, below the bank, the strongrooms. All very interesting and remarkably recreated.

The Masonic Hall is equally fascinating. It includes various Masonic chairs and other Grand High Poohbah regalia, although I could have the misremembered the terminology there.

From there we walk to the steam driven merry go round. Aghast! There is a one pound 50 charge per rider. But try to keep us off it! Waiting patiently until the four children and two sexagenarians on the previous ride complete theirs, we select our horses, whose names I have forgotten, and mount in excited expectation. The steam whistle blows and we are away. The little steam engine puffs and wheezes as we accelerate to a rather remarkable speed. I had noted that the poles which lift the horses were slanted inward and now I know why. Lights over the whole machine flash old world razz matazz and 1915 style fun parlour music blares from speakers. The steam powered pianola organ is temporarily rendered inoperable due to a fault in the small steam engine which normally drives it, but the ambience is not lost.

We walk to a station where a steam train provides rides on weekends. There is an engine shed from 1800s, once again all relocated. Even the rail sleepers and rail connection pins look original. It is all incredible.

The day is quite hot: over 30 degrees. It is thus far the hottest July in recorded history. We have spent more than our allocated 2 hours and have covered all the extras we wanted to see or do except another horse ride. We have not seen the horses and assume that the weather is considered too hot for them to work in.

But the thought of leaving without a ride behind the Loco Motion is unthinkable to me. Because we are over out intended time, it will probably be running now. We take a tram to the Wagonway and are in time to board the train. The four carriages are a peculiar lot. One covered car is about 900 mm wide with two heavy timber bench seats the length of the carriage . The other two are high sided open carriages with heavy bench seats across the carriage. Both look like nothing discernible from modern times.

The ride is 200 metre along a track and then back. The engine starts its journey with surprisingly little noise or issuing of steam. A quiet hiss on each stroke is all we hear. The carriages are a different matter as they clank and bang as one after another they follow the engine. At the end of the track, we wait for close to one minute as valves are altered and the engine starts its return journey. The pace of life was noticeably slower then.

We have blown our 2 hour target by 1 ½ times so we luxuriate in a tram ride all the way around the track to the exit point. We are back in the van by 1.45, less than double our expected visiting time. Not bad for us!

After considering whether we might spend another night in the now familiar surroundings of the past two nights, we instead opt to drive to Hadrian’s wall, about an hour away.

Arriving by 3 we have lunch in the carpark then enter the site. It is nearly a kilometre walk up hill and down dale to the site. It is still quite hot and Ro is not happy. Fortunately it starts to cloud over and we even have a few drops of rain.

The site is quite remarkable. It is quite extensive and though only foundations to waist height remain, placards explain details to which the foundations elude. The precision of the work is amazing. Walls are dead straight and square. The technology of heating, the baths, the hospital and medical knowledge all point to what an advanced society the Romans were. It is puzzling why such an advanced civilization should collapse and the technology disappear for so many centuries. There is a map showing the extent of the Roman Empire and it covered all of Europe to about the now Russian boarder and all UK excluding Ireland and Scotland. Quite a remarkable civilization.

We have chosen a campsite near the National Trust home of Lord Armstrong, named Cragside, which is famous as being the first hydroelectric powered house in the world. Surely that is a fairly elite group anyway. When we arrive, it is a Caravan Club site and we think we may be turned away as we are not members. Fortunately, the office closed half an hour ago and a sign says to select a pitch and pay tomorrow. The only downside is there is no mobile reception so we are a communication free zone. Just like a holiday should be!

Friday 19th July 2013 Rothbury, England

We are off early, with nerry a question as to our club membership. After 10 minutes we drive through a beautiful village called Rothbury and seemingly untouched by modernity; apart from the ubiquitous automobile.

I am having some trouble with some allergic response so we call into the local pharmacy, which, to our relief does show signs of modernity. A box fill of potions and we are on our way to the bakery where we get some delicious custard and apple slices, the latter of which we enjoy with coffee overlooking a river.

As we now have reception I check emails. Bad mistake. The flooding which our rental property had experienced last month repeated last night. This is the sort of news which takes the edge off a holiday, especially as the tone of the email reflected the significant displeasure the tenant was feeling toward the situation.

However it is now a bit late Melbourne time to be calling anyone so I write an email or two and will call our time midnight which will be early Melbourne time. In the mean time there is nothing that can be done but to enjoy Cragside.

Lord Armstrong started his career as a lawyer (though not a Lord then) but was an engineer through and through. He started his engineering business by providing a hydraulic lifting mechanism for dock cranes. The success of the first machine allowed him to generate vast wealth which he further advanced when he went into making armaments. When he died, he left an estate of ½ billon pounds, an unimaginable fortune. Cragside was built with some of the proceeds of that success and incorporates many ground breaking innovations for the times.

We arrive and park near the Formal Garden. Lady Armstrong was as innovative in creating a garden as was her husband in his pursuits. There are tall rock gardens with meandering paths through ferny grottos, a large hot house and manicured grassy areas with paths running through.

There is a substantial iron bridge which crosses a 50 metre wide gully. This was made by one of Armstrong’s companies. Before we cross it, our attention is caught by the sign leading to the power house. This is where the hydro electricity was generated to light the house. As mentioned, this was the first such installation in the world and was designed by Armstrong. Along the way there is also a 5 metre diameter waterwheel which drives a pump supplying water to the gardens.

The powerhouse is the original building with the original equipment in place. The area is very much hands on and starts by demonstrating generation of power using a coil between fixed magnets. Next there is a hand operated pump which pumps water up to a tank. When a chain is pulled to release the water, a pelton wheel coupled to a small dynamo spins lighting some LED lamps in a model house. Next the actual pelton wheel is displayed, followed by a larger model driven by pressurised water. Finally the original equipment is displayed with an electric motor showing how it all moves. The concept development is excellent and the exhibition is very popular with school groups.

We walk up to the house. It is called Cragside as it is built from and into a rocky outcrop. It started as a relatively modest weekender and ended up as a 150 room mansion. The building continued for 30 years , as the house was constantly modified.

Starting in the kitchen, we see the lift which he built using one of the cylinders which started him in business to raise the lift over three floors. It was intended to save the house staff effort rather than to lift people. The rotisserie is water driven. Hot and cold water is piped to all rooms and central underfloor heating was fed from a turkish bath system in the basement. There was a telephone system, totally unheard of at the time, if that is not a contradiction in terms. Armstrong’s innovation is evident everywhere. Perhaps being a multi millionaire when the term meant something may have helped.

The rooms are beautifully and mostly functionally furnished. There is, however, a a gallery and grand salon were totally for show and beautifully decorated.

A few more rock gardens and we walk back over the iron bridge and back to the van.

The estate is huge and there is a 6 mile track we can drive around. The track is one way and involves driving through two stone arches under the house. The van fits without much trouble. However as we drive around the bitumen track, the van rubs on trees and bushes and only just fits. This, we discover, is because the pamphlet we have not read suggests a maximum size smaller than we are. Still, we come to no grief and leave about 6pm.

With the rather disastrous flooding situation in Melbourne, we need to decide whether we need to go home. Retreating to a campsite just outside Newcastle which provides wifi, I settle in to a night of emailing and skyping.

Saturday 20th July 2013 Newcastle, England

Calls made into the early morning confirm our thoughts that we need to go home. Although we are confident a solution is likely to be discovered by Monday, the flack likely from the flooding events means staying here is an unattractive option. The problems have never been far from my mind and interfere with enjoyment of our journey. Though I am not a fatalist, the number of things that have gone wrong make my emotional side think that this trip was never meant to be. Fatalism aside, staying here seems not to be an option. Brad , Kevin and Scot have all been greatly helpful but the fact is the buck stops here. And the buck needs to be in Australia.

We still need to take the van back to Calais. We can drive to Dover in 6 hours and could get a ferry tonight if we can change our booking. Air fares are another matter. The low price we paid precludes changing the flight times. Furthermore, neither the ferry nor the air ticket can be changed on internet. Nor do the call numbers supplied work on our UK phone. We ring Janice and Allan to see whether we could get their help and they readily offer assistance. After a brief discussion we decide that perhaps we can use public phones to sort out our travel.

Selecting Motorways on the GPS, an unfamiliar choice for us, we start our trip to Dover. Motorways are rather soulless but achieve goals. In what seems like a fairly short period of time, we are near London, passing within a few kilometres of the centre on the motorway.

As we drive, Ro notices a sign to Sidcup and Orpington. We had not intended bothering Allan and Janice but we think that as we are so close, maybe we can prevail upon them to help. We phone and they are more than happy to help. Within 15 minutes we are there.

They are having dinner and, not wanting to impose, we retreat to their office and make some phone calls. Ferry amendments cannot be made tonight as the office is closed although someone we speak with agrees when we inquire that if we turn up at the port they could probably get us on a ship tonight.

Air France office closed half an hour ago and opens tomorrow at 9. On hearing our dilemma, Janice invites us to stay the night and sort it out tomorrow. We say we will sleep in the van but she insists we stay there so we gratefully accept.

Sunday 21st July 2013 Sidcup, England

I am on the phone by 9 to Air France. However, Air France has no telephone queuing and after 5 calls it is unlikely we will get through any time soon. On a whim I call Air France in Australia on skype. The operator listens to the details and says the ticket is non refundable and non alterable. He is sorry but he cannot do anything. Perhaps I might like to try head office in Paris. Perhaps pigs might fly. And even if they did, French pigs would not work on Sundays or during smoko or else there would be some other impediment.

We will buy new tickets. The airline sites will sell us a one way single for exorbitant prices. Singapore quoted 17,000 somethings which I don’t think were lire or baht or any other lollipop currency (not to disparage any currency, just the A$ conversion) . Skyscanner trawls for cheap fares so that was a good starting point.

We can get a 25 hour flight with a good carrier for 850 pounds per person. But actually getting hold of the ticket seems allusive. By the time we enter details, the tickets are not available. Eventually we get a 32 hour flight with Qantas/Emirates for 940 pounds per person, arriving Avalon at 2.30 on Thursday and departing CDG 9.50pm Tuesday. Six hours of the travel time will be spent in Sydney and I subsequently realise I should have terminated in Sydney and got a local flight to Tullamarine. Maybe next time we cancel out trip at short notice.

Our ferry trip has been altered to half past midnight tonight. We farewell Janice and Allan, thanking them again for their hospitality, and drive to Dover, about 1 ½ hours away. Arriving about 3pm after a bit of shopping on the way for the next few meals, we have some hours to kill. Allan has suggested we visit Dover Castle which has had a lot of money sunk into it by English Heritage. Below the castle is a labyrinth of tunnels dating from Roman times but more recently used in WWII which are said to be very interesting. However, as time is short, we opt instead to walk along the top of the White Cliffs of Dover.

The paths on the cliffs go perilously close to the sheer cliff faces. The wind is significant and Ro finds it a bit unnerving. But the views are great and the coolish wind helps the otherwise oppressive heat.

Returning to the van by 6, we drive to the water front where there is a motorhome city of vehicles most likely waiting for ferry trips. One of the things we love about a motorhome is that we can shower in the main street and no one knows or cares! This will mean we can go straight to bed when we reach Calais. By 11.30 we are in the queue to board and by 12.30 we are away.

It is about an hour before we climb back into the van to drive off the ferry. It is all remarkably efficient and only takes 10 or 15 minutes. It is 2.30 local time and we are tired. A short drive and we find a parking spot where we can sleep for the remainder of the night.

Monday 22nd July 2013 Calais, France

Awaking early, we are on the road by 8am. We will stay at a camp site tonight to clean out the tanks and do our preparation for wintering the van. We choose a campsite near the sea about 20 kilometers from Beaurainville where we will leave the van.

The campsite is in sand dunes and where we park is sandy. Too sandy. We get bogged and the way the wheels spin, we will stay bogged. The roaring of the engine and the sight of the van digging itself into the sand attracts the attention of the local boys and within minutes we have 20 men of all ages offering advise in French and ready to provide motive power. The first attempt does nothing. A bit of digging in front of the rear wheels and we start to move. Some more digging and we are free. All part of their holiday entertainment. After the excitement, they resume their holiday pursuits, which to us generally look less exciting than extracting a bogged vehicle.

By the time we have packed, cleaned and done a bit of maintenance it is bed time.

Tuesday 213rd July 2013 Somewhere near Beaurainille, France

We said to the proprietors of The Longhouse in Beaurainville we would be there about 8am. Because of a poor sleep we actually arrive about 9. That is no problem, although they do need to leave by 1 for an appointment. Our train leaves Beaurainville for CDG at 1.25 so we need to be ready well before then.

The day is quite hot and the final closing up is a bit unpleasant. By 11.30 we have done all we need to and are ready to leave. We hope that this year everything will be better aired. We don’t need a tarp because the van is undercover and to further help airing we stand cushions up and drape bedding about the place.

Jackie has offered to drive us to the station about 15 minutes walk away. She checks that we have got all we need and we think we have. It turns out we are wrong about that but not with any major items.

Our prebooked tickets have to be picked up at the station but the station is unmanned. Ro asks a local in halting French what we need to do and the man seems to say we can sort it out with the conductor on board.

We have 1 ½ hours to wait which goes fairly quickly. On board, the conductor looks at the sheet, starts a communication in French then shrugs his shoulders when I can’t respond. All is OK it seems. One and a half hous later we disembark at Arras, the line terminus where we get the TGV. This station is manned so we go to get tickets there. But the counter person cannot find the booking and wants to see the card on which they were purchased. All discussed with Ro in French. As we rummages through possible cards we might have used, she locates the tickets and we can go to the platform once it is listed 15 minutes before departure, which we now understand is the system.

On each TGV platform is an electronic sign which shows the train number, time and carriage positions.On the platform are fixed positions ABCDEF etc. We need carriage 3 and the sign shows the carriage will be between markers D and E. We can stand there and know the carriage will be opposite us. This is sometimes critical if the train only stops for 40 seconds. It is also important because the small LED sign on the carriage showing it is carriage 3, which may or may not be working, overrides the 400 mm high painted number which proclaims the carriage as number 2. Another slight complication is that the train number is one digit different from that on the ticket. We confirm with two English speaking passengers that this train goes to CDG, so all is well. Later I note they are checking the numbers also as their tickets don’t match the train number. We decide we will all be in the same boat (or train) if it goes somewhere else but feel confident all the discrepancies is covered by the French ‘un petit suggestion’ philosophy coupled with a shrug of the shoulders. We end up at CDG an hour later so all is well.

We are now old hands at the trip from the TGV station to the checkin desks. We don’t even have to beg the staff for directions; we go straight to the Aeroflot checkin. The transition from Aeroflot to Emirates does not occur for one hour and a half, the unsmiling checkin chick informs me. Maybe Aeroflot does not include smiling in its customer charter. Or maybe it is because she is French.

This is an opportunity to find Air France ticketing to see if we can get a refund or transfer of our return ticket. Ro opts to stay where she is after the sign tells us it is seven minutes walk away and it is quite hot. I take off at full stride, steaming past slow walkers on the moving walkway and standing inside the comfort zone of those who block my way on the walkway until they move aside. In the absence of a personal warning device, it is at times like these I can see the value in having bad body odour.

Air France ticketing is even hotter than the terminal. The French are very adept at dissuading people from lingering and making life difficult. I linger a short while in the queue before an unoccupied operator grants me an audience. She is formal but helpful. But after checking various options, it is decided the ticket is non alterable and non refundable, which is what I had expected. She does offer a helpful suggestion that if I cancel the ticket, I may get a refund of airport taxes which she thinks may be some hundreds of dollars. So not all bad.

Returning to Ro, it is getting close to transition time at the checkin desk so we join a short queue and within a short time are finally free of our wheely bags.

We have a few hours to while away and it transpires we have an extra half hour as the plane has been delayed. Finally we board our A380. The seats we have been allocated are the last in the row, next to the toilet. The occasional flush is the downside, a seemingly slightly greater incline angle and no one to upset behind are the upsides. It is a 6 hour flight to Dubai and it passes fairly quickly and comfortably.

Wednesday 24th July 2013 In Transit to Dubai

We have a four hour wait at Dubai which has not decreased despite the late take off in Paris because tail winds have improved our flight time. The Dubai airport we see is quite impressive but there seems to be little there other than shops, shops and more shops…….. and attendants. The attendants seem to outnumber the shoppers. Escaping the attention of the attendants is quite impossible so quiet browsing is futile. Instead we retreat to an outcrop of lounge chairs which are in great demand. They allow one to lie recumbent so sleep comes easily, only broken by ones feet being bumped by other travellers manoeuvring their luggage down the too narrow aisles.

Our Dubai to Sydney leg is also in an A380 but this time on the port side with another passenger in the window seat. She is Australian and we have a few interesting discussions after discovering we have similar views on a range of topics. She is conscious of inconveniencing us when she needs to stretch her legs or un stretch other parts of her anatomy during the 13 hour flight. However, when she needs to move about, we are equally happy to do the same so the journey passes with everyone happy and comfortable.

At Sydney we pass through immigration and quarantine. Some years ago, Ro missed her flight from Sydney to Melbourne because she thought it left from the Domestic Terminal when it actually left from International. Thus we expected that the next leg to Avalon would be from the International terminal. Wrong! We have to take the bus to the Domestic Terminal for $11 cash which we don’t have. The money changers are happy to give me $20.80 for 20 euro, a ripoff I think, so that is what happens.

We still have 4 hours or so before our flight but that seems to pass quickly, maybe because we are tired, and by 2.40pm we are at Avalon where Scot has offered to pick us up.

By 4.30pm we are home at last. Our adventure is prematurely over and now the work begins…….

The 2012 Journey Draws to a Close

marfee7 — Mon, 3 Sep 2012 19:32:00 GMT

Monday 3^rd September 2012

We wake at 7, have our usual orange and head for Charroux. We will breakfast along the way.

Soon we are on motorways and there is no appropriate place to stop so breakfast becomes brorning tea at about 11. Because we are on motorways, our avowed last choice, there is not much to see. Our time is spent dashing down hills getting enough momentum to get up the hill on the other side. The van is great with stamina but not the best with bursts of speed. We timed 0 to 100 as just under 2 minutes. Not what a Ferrari driver would get excited about. Admittedly this may have been starting on a hill.

Our trip shows us as passing near Paris. We don’t really know how near we are to Paris but we now know what Paris traffic jams are like. We spend about an hour in walking speed traffic. Occasionally there is a flurry of activity as an emergency vehicle negotiates the mess. We marvel firstly at why an emergency vehicle would enter a solidly blocked motorway then , observing the journey, how people manage to clear a path for the vehicle. The first is an ambulance which performs well. Mind you, how anyone can drive while blocking their ears against the deafening siren still remains a mystery. Next emergency vehicle is a police van with a police motorbike escort. They get through the mess by having the motorcyclists intimidate the drivers in the vehicle’s path. As a motorcyclist passes a car in its way, the rider indicates with a gloved hand that the car should move out of the way. How this should be achieved is not indicated, but it is effective as the car somehow moves sideways and the police vehicle passes. Maybe the police get kickbacks from the panel beating industry.

Another interesting phenomenon is the number of motorbikes which use the motorway and the extra lane which is provided for them by common agreement. Lane splitting in Victoria is illegal although often practised, however here it is a normal part of the system. If a vehicle is not close enough to the barrier to allow the cyclists a free path, there is tooting and waving by the cyclist. Admittedly there is also the odd ‘thank you’ toot when a motorist moves further over. Bikes career down this unofficial laneway at great speed, most with hazard flashers on. Given the progress of the cyclists compared with the cars, it is easy to see why motorbikes are popular. Unfortunately the actions of cyclists when traffic is moving very slowly is sometimes mimicked on the motorways at 130 kph in the same whigh speeday. We saw one cyclist who was aggrieved kick at a car hoping to break the car mirror while travelling over 100 kph. Surely not a wise thing to do.

Eventually, as we start heading away from Paris, the traffic on the motorway starts moving reasonably and soon we are back on track moving at an acceptable speed.

Our day is spent whittling down the kilometres to Charroux. Our trip from the Kloster was shown as taking 13 hours but has taken 22 hours over 2 days. This includes breaks and the odd snooze as driving the van is quite tiring whether it be on motorways or narrow back roads.

Finally we arrive at Charroux at 7.15. We intend staying at the Charroux Aire tonight so as not to disturb Mavis’s family who are at their home and in the gite. We can then dump the waste tanks before going up to Mavis’s house to prepare the van for winter.

.Tuesday 4th September 2012

We are ready to leave the aire by 10 having dumped, cleaned and chlorinated our sewerage waste tank. The grey water tank we empty and any more generated can go on the garden.

Firstly we drive to John and Carol’s house to bid them farewell for this year. Unfortunately John is occupied with anther airport pickup tomorrow so cannot ferry us to Poitiers so we will say our farewells today. As they are not there, we leave a note and go up to Mavis and Terry’s house.

Mavis’s daughter and son in law, Helen and Richard, and Richard’s parents, Carol and Peter, are at the house and Richard has kindly offered to drive us to Poitiers tomorrow. We meet them at the house and find them to be as friendly and helpful as Mavis and Terry. Helen and Richard’s 3 year old daughter, Elizabeth or Lizzy, is also there, keeping everyone in order.

They are all about to leave to visit a monkey park. After greetings and offers to help with anything we need, they leave, expecting to return late afternoon. They kindly ask us to have dinner with them but we decline as we have things we need to consume from the van. We have already exceeded our food throw out quota for this holiday by not adequately removing all butter from the butter wrapper before discarding it.

The afternoon is spent washing the van and the bikes, tidying up inside and generally getting ready to leave tomorrow. By 6pm we are satisfied that tomorrow all w2e need to do is tie on the tarp and remove a few more items and we will be ready.

We decide to ride into the town on our nice clean bikes to get some more money from a hole-in-the-wall then to ride down to John and Carol’s to say farewell. When we arrive there, we knock but there is no response so we ride further to the river. Nothing very interesting there so we return and see Carol in her garden. A chat over the fense in true English, and maybe French, style and we learn John is playing tennis. We bid Carol farewell until next year and ride back.

Helen, Richard and family have returned so we go to say hello. We end up having a drink before dinner then retreat to the van to clean out the fridge. Before doing so we reverse the van into its parking place for the winter. If we are hoing to have any problems, we want to know about them tonight.. There is only 100 mm each side to the operation is a delicate one. Things are slightly more difficult as there is now a caravan in there as well. There is only 500 mm for manoeuvring back and forth so after quite a bit of to and fro, the van is as close to the wall as it is going to be. It is also on an angle to allow a ride on mower to get in and out of the yard. Quite a tidy little package of vehicles.

After dinner we go back for some after dinner drinks and share some honey and something pie. We never discover what the something is. We have a lively conversation and an enjoyable evening, returning to sleep about 12.30. During the evening Ro has gained a lot of information mainly from Peter on where to visit in UK and what to avoid. It is good that we have started planning for next year already.

Wednesday 5th September 2012

Our task this morning is to empty the van and tie down the tarp. First there is a lot of condensation to wipe from the roof. The tarp is already on the roof, placed there last night, so unfolding it is not difficult. But it is very big and tying it down is a major job. Last year I placed eight large logs on the bottom but wind managed to remove the tarp. This year I use a lot of rope to hold the tarp in place…..hopefully. We will see next year.

By 11 we are ready to drive to Poitiers with Richard. We say farewell to all the others and invite them to look us up if they are in Oz. More likely we will see them next year in UK before we see them in Oz.

We arrive with plenty of time to spare. It is 12 and our TGV leaves at 13.12. Now we know about designation of Voie (platform) 20 minutes or so before departure, we can relax over a coffee until the platform is displayed. When that happens we go down the underpass to platform 2. Lugging one big and one smaller bag is easier than last year and the steps on the underpass are less than those to the overpass where we could use a lift at the expense of more hassle.

Consulting the electronic train composition signs, we position ourselves where our carriage should be. Last year we had 5 minutes to board but as the train has not arrived by 13.10, we may only have a minute or so this time. This proves to be the case. We are not sure if this is carriage 13 as we cannot see any illuminated sign but lug our bags on board and will get to out correct carriage once on the train. Barely a minute after boarding the train is silently gliding out of the station. Lucky we had positioned ourselves next to the carriage because there would have been insufficient time to walk along the train.

Getting on and off TGVs requires the same patience by commuters as does driving on the roads. Commuters with large bags (us included) crowd around the doors whether entering or exiting. Everyone indulgently squashes together and squeezes up to allow yet another bag to get through. Yet everyone is in it together and when the doors open or close, the throng disperses. The train is moving when I start looking for a space for our bags. We have boarded the correct carriage but the luggage area is full. However the luggage area of the next carriage has room so I leave our bags there. Last year we were a bit paranoid so chained our bags to the rack so they would not be stolen. This year, with a better perspective I don’t feel the need to lock them. Besides there is only one stop and we are in First Class, having said to hell with the extra six euros that first class cost over second. The airlines could learn a thing or two from the railways. Has first class on the aircraft been 6 euros, or even 10, more we would have chosen that rather than economy. That is the problem when accountants run companies.

We get to our First Class seats, dust them off and remove the rubbish (only kidding) and settle in. Everything is quiet as the train glides silently along. “Turn right” commands Thomasina from Ro’s bag sitting on the table. A concerned glance from the other passengers prompts us to turn her off. Luckily the conductor is not near. He may have thought, like the German boarder police last year, that we were trying to smuggle people.

The trip passes quickly and comfortably, other than in the tunnels where ears are seriously assaulted by the pressure wave of the 180kph train. We arrive at Montparnasse. There is a nice feeling of familiarity as we know where we are and what to do. The feeling evaporates as we try to buy a ticket. The machine is in French with no choice of English. It only takes cards and when offered our travel card contemptuously spits it back out with some French phrase which may have been more abusive when it knew it was a foreign card.

Forget about the ticket, we have to call the Paris booking agent. We find a phone. T pianist on a small white upright piano is furiously playing Chopin. Not what you would hear on a Melbourne railway station. The guy in the next cubicle has just left as his card was also rejected. We try cash. I insert 2 20 cent pieces, The display shows 40 cents. There is a dial tone so we call. Ring Ring. Nothing. We try a few number combinations. Still nothing. At least the phone gives back our coins, which increases my trust that it is not just a con artist disguised as a telephone. I go for broke and insert 1 euro. This time the phone connects and, as Ro speaks, I feed coins to the phone, which obviously has not eaten in a while. But it does give us change at the end.

Our careful plan to take one metro has been altered by the phone call. We must take the metro to Chatelet then change lines for one stop to Louvre Rivoli. Sounds simple and is except for steps which go up and down between the lines. Steps with all our luggage are not welcome. We find another ticket machine which will take our card and does have English so life beautiful.

Arriving at the agent, we attend to some details then walk to our apartment, only 150 metre away. It is similar to the apartment last year and is tiny. This year, we stow our bags in a cupboard and are rewarded with a 20 percent increase in available floor area.

After a shower, we go exploring. First thing is a bit of grocery shopping for breakfast. We do a circuit of the area and can find nothing but an organic type shop. We buy a few things at what seem to be exorbitant prices then go back for a bit of sustenance. A bit later we venture out again and end up walking to the Pompidou centre where we purchased things last year at a nearby small supermarket. They have not cleaned the centre and, although very popular with the French, looks quite grubby. Maybe its external utilitarian design ethos is enhanced by the grime.

Returning again to the apartment we pack away some purchases then go out for dinner. We find a small restaurant and Ro has a fish dish while I have duck. Both are delicious. After our meal we walk down to the Seine, 2 blocks away and enjoy the sight of Pont Neuf with its night lighting. Further over, the Eifel Tower sweeps its searchlight out over Paris once every 30 seconds.

As it is a little cool, we go back to our apartment for the night. I have a small task to complete before bed. For some reason I had decided we did not need our power adaptor with us so left it in the van. We do, in fact, need it for the computer, the camera, the phone, Thomasina, etc etc. Earlier today we visited Darty, an electrical store, where they had adaptors for 30 euro. Too much, when there are aluminium drink cans galore scattered about. So we had picked up one, a Red Bull can which claims to be an energy thingy anyway, Using Ro’s nail scissors and two Bandaids, I am able to make two circular insulated prongs which slip over our Aussie angled pins and allow us to use the European power point. Perhaps not something the electricity company would endorse, but fine for the small current the charging device draws. Perhaps I should add the postscript: “Don’t try this at home”, but it solves our problem. By morning the computer is fresh as a daisy and ready to use the wifi available in the apartment. To us, wifi on tap is heaven.

Thursday 6th September 2012

We awake at what we think may be 8am. I say that because we don’t actually have a clock. We rely on the computer, still set to Oz time, and the camera.

After breakfast we fiddle about for a while the get ourselves ready to walk to Sacre Coeur. As we enjoy the sun drenched streets, we are surprised that so many people are at sidewalk cafes eating. I think it must be 9 by now so presumably they are having breakfast…… of wine, pasta and other such things. Seems odd for breakfast but this is France. Maybe it is later than 9. We check the camera. It is 12.40. Lunch time. We seem to have lost 3 hours. How careless of us. Anyway we don’t need to be anywhere so we will just adjust the schedule which we didn’t have anyway.

Sacre Coeur is at the highest land point in Paris, which is otherwise flat. As we approach, the roads start to climb and we decide that, given the time, maybe we will buy some rolls which we then eat in an open area near a children’s play ground.

The cathedral is approached by dozens of stairs. It is a magnificent sight. There has been a lot of work in cleaning the stone to its original white colour from the dirty back it was. We see some areas not cleaned and it is a black as black due to years of grime in the atmosphere. There is a truck mounted special purpose crane which is fitted with a very large box with filtered fans which allow them to clean, probably sand blast, the stone without showering the area with sand and debris. This is working on a building facing the cathedral but provides little distraction as it is fairly quiet.

The cathedral, as always, has fantastic masonry work and is of huge proportions. Although, we have become a little blasé about both aspects as we have seen dozens of similar or bigger buildings, this building is stunning for its remarkable mosaic work. Also significant are the domes which give it a middle eastern flavour, even somewhat Taj Mahalish.

Above the alter is a huge mosaic over the domed ceiling. It is richly adorned with tiny mosaic pieces which make it look like a painting but with greatly enhanced protection against aging. It gleams like it was finished yesterday.

There is a panoramic view across Paris just slightly lower than the Eifel Tower available from the dome of the cathedral. It involves walking up 200 spiral (helical for pedants) stairs then another 100 steps up hill and down dale across the rooves to the dome. Another short spiral staircase and we have a magnificent 360 degree view around Paris.

The day is clear and the sky blue with only a slight haze evident. The 360 degree view is obtained by walking around the perimeter of the 20 or so metre diameter dome. Barely a hill is visible on the Paris horizon. We spend about 40 minutes admiring the view, finally descending a second set of stairs. By the bottom, we are quite giddy from the 10 or so turns we perform as we descend.

We stop at an Irish Pub for coffee and somewhat reluctantly listen to some street performers. When they seek donations, I am tempted to offer money for them to perform elsewhere.

Montmartre is the artists area and there are numerous people wanting to sketch passers by. We wend our way through them and continue along curving quaint streets which once were the haunt of well known artists. We continue on to see le Moulin Rouge. People have commented how small it is but the red windmill I would not call small. It is probably 10 metre high.

We get the metro back to our apartment and later go out to dinner at au Chien qui Fume, the smoking dog. It had quite quirky artwork around the walls of human bodies with dog’s heads in 1920s type scenes. There were also numerous porcelain dogs. The meals we had were quite tasty although not as good as last night’s despite being significantly more expensive. However the décor was far better than last night.

We finish up the evening by walking to Ile Saint Louis, past where we heard a jazz band last year. It is nice to be in Paris again.

Friday 7th September 2012

Today we want to go to Versailles. We have seen Eggenburg, Schonbrun, San Souci and Fontainbleu so our plan is to just view the gardens. Soon we will discover that ‘just’ is not the correct word.

We are out the door by 10 for our joust with the French rail system. Our Paris Transport map is clear and pretty well the same as all such maps. The walk to le Halle, the closest tube station and the one we should have used from Montparnasse, is only a few minutes. We need to go to Saint Michelle Notre Dame on line 4 on the Metro (central underground) where we change to RER (suburban) for the trip to Versailles. We could walk to Saint Michelle only 10 or 12 minutes away but using the tube is quick and easy.

Saint Michelle is 3 stops away and trains arrive every minute or two. The ride in the train involves aircraft like acceleration and deceleration, sometimes as we snake our ways around bends. Usually the train is so packed that we could not fall over anyway or there is a grab rail within reach. The trip takes 4 or 5 minutes and we tumble out onto the platform with hordes of other commuters.

Making our way to the RER platform we are just in time to see a train leave. Damn. However we then see a monitor which shows various trains leave from this platform and the one just gone may not have been the correct one. We have a 15 minute wait for the one we need.

The train is double decked and is fairly empty. Bit of a waste. However, as we stop at the 10 stations before Versailles, the carriages fill and by the time we reach Versailles, there are hundreds exiting through the turnstyles, which are not working anyway. 15 million visit Versailles each year or an average of 50,000 per day….. more in summer. Most of these will arrive by train.

We walk 2 km to the palace and obviously marvel at its size. We can go round the main entrance to the gardens. Where to start.

If the gardens at Schonbrun were immense these can only be described as gargantuan. The grounds of Versailles were 7600 hectares in Loui’s time but have been reduced to only 800 now. That is small comfort to us as they are too big to appreciate from the ground and far too big to walk around.

We walk toward the Grand Canal which starts probably 2 km from the palace and stretches a similar amount beyond that. There are rowing boats on it, although nowhere really to go. But it would be a good experience. Maybe later. Up near the palace there are large formal gardens with central water features. The vista from beyond the formal gardens to the Grand Canal begins with a large fountain, extends through a wide courtyard then continues as walkways which extend to the Grand Canal with dozens of statues and a central green swathe of grass. It is a magnificent view. One thing which mars enjoyment of the environment is the dust from the gravel paths. It coats everything, including the vegetation, with a fine grey/beige dust which presumably is washed away with the rain. I would imagine the view would be wonderful after light rain.

To the left and right of the walkway to the canal are long corridors of trees bordered by lattices to a height of 2 metre. Hidden in these are eateries, from one of which we buy some coldish and very ordinary coffee with some chocolate brownies, also fairly ordinary. The price is less ordinary.

Walking further in a big loop we come across a beautiful plane tree lined walk which we enjoy on a bench for a few minutes before continuing on to see numerous fountains and water features until we return to the palace.

There is a small train which we think would allow a bit more sight seeing without wearing out our feet so we queue in the hot sun for tickets and rattle off toward an area we have not seen. We get off at the three of the four stops available, one of which is the Grand Trianon. This is a small palace where some of the royals would retreat to escape the formality of the court. However, these palaces are so big that once the oo-ah factor is over, it is unbounded ‘more of the same’. We are ready to go back to our apartment.

After some refreshments at the apartment, we want to visit Ile Saint Louis for some of the famous, we are told, Berthillon ice cream. We arrive at 7.40pm, just before their closing time of 8pm. We have 2 boules each for 7.60 euro. Ro has pistachio and melon and I have chocolate and rum and raisin . Berthillon is said to be the best ice cream makers in France and we would not dispute this. They are truly delicious.

We walk back to ile de la Cite and listen to a jazz band on the linking bridge for 15 minutes then climb down a steel staircase to the bank of the Seine where we watch the sunset with many others who are in groups on rugs with wine and, unfortunately, the ubiquitous cigarette. The view and atmosphere is unique. The rocks on which we sit are still warm from the sun and we remain there for an hour or so before walking back to our apartment.

Late into the night the streets are still crowded with people. This is the essence of the Paris one hears about.

Saturday 8th September 2012

Somehow the morning disappears. Despite being in wonderful Paris, we have our sights set on home and we don’t feel the need to spend every minute out and about.

We have had a few ideas about what to do today and settle on visiting L’Orangerie, for which we have tickets purchased at Monet’s Garden a few weeks ago. We had intended visiting last year but that did not happen.

We know the building is at the end of the Tuilerie Gardens so we walk past the Louvre and toward the gardens. A map tells us that it is in the far left corner when approaching from the Louvre. On Reaching it, we walk around it to locate the entrance, not immediately obvious from our approach side.

There is a security check as we enter, the reason for which becomes obvious when we see how close we can get to priceless paintings such as Monet’s huge waterlily canvasses.

On ground level are two specially built rooms which house the waterlily canvasses four of which are perhaps 15 metre long and four of which are about 10 metre long. Monet spent 30 years of his life trying to perfect the portrayal of his waterlily pond, producing over 300 works on this subject. These 8 huge canvasses were given by him to the state around 1920 with a description by Monet how they should be displayed. The rooms were built in the 1920s for them however, as impressionism had lost its popularity, they were not well received . Over the years, the display fell into disrepair after the rooms were damaged in WW2 until the 1960s when they were refurbished. Since then, they have been major tourist attractions,

The canvasses in the first room depict the pond at various times of the day. They show no sky or edges to the pond and were intended by Monet to completely absorb the viewer into them. They certainly are wonderful to see, especially given that central seats provide a distance view while one can also walk to within centimetres of the original canvass to observe brush strokes and, unfortunately, some cracking as they age.

Downstairs are hundreds more paintings by artists such as Renoir, Cezanne and Picasso. We also discover painters we do not know such as Soutine, Utrillo and Rousseau. We spend a very enjoyable afternoon before walking back to our apartment.

After some refreshments we walk to our supermarket near the Pompidou. It is Saturday afternoon and there are people milling everywhere. This is Paris as residents experience it.

We stay in for the night, eating a light meal of eggs and vegetables.

Sunday 9th September 2012

Our plans for each day are now made each morning. When we landed in Paris we saw an elevated walkway from the bus near Orleane Gare which we wanted to see. In fact there seem to be a number of these which were elevated railway lines through the city in the 1800s and early 1900s. In our Paris guide we have one listed as starting by the Bastille and running for some kilometres.

We take the metro to Bastille and go to street level. Now to find Promenade Plantee. We ask directions in a bar but no one seem to know where it is. However they do direct us to a Tourist Office… which we cannot find. As we walk looking for the tourist office, I hear Australian accents and ask the owners if they know where the office is. They don’t but ask us what we are looking for. We say the Promenade and they indicate they are also looking for it and have seen a sign in this direction. I lament the observation that the French only offer signage which seduces but does not satiate one’s desire for direction.. This seems to strike a chord.

The direction suggestion is enough as we see the promenade ahead. It is an arched stone structure as would be expected of an 1800s elevated railway line. How the French has used the space is spectacular. What is missing in street level physical and visual amenity is more than compensated by the elevated promenade. It has greenery either side with a path down the centre and frequent benches. The 19^th century apartments rising 5 or 6 storeys above the 2 storey high promenade also benefit from the vista. The appreciation of the populous is evident from the large number of people walking or jogging along the 3 km promenade. We walk the length to a green park which is full people paying homage to the sun.

Leaving the promenade we want to make our way to the Gare de Lyon for a metro to la Defence at the opposite end of the line. But which way? As we walk contemplating the map, a young passer by asks in French if we need any help. I indicate that I don’t speak French so she asks in English then offers us advise as to which metro station to use. She restores my faith in the French. This year we have seen little if any of the surliness usually attributed to the French, maybe even by us on occasion.

We eventually find the Gare after the odd bit of uncertainty as to where the hell it actually is and take the metro to la Defence, via an expected line change on the way.

La Defence is a purpose built commercial park of skyscrapers designed to keep such buildings away from the quintessential ‘old’ Paris. The centre piece is a square annulus (if there is such a thing) of immense proportions called the Grande Arche. The centre is large enough to enclose Notre Dame. Other buildings mimic the cube in sympathetic ways. The precinct is as far removed from the ‘old’ Paris as Singapore is and is reminiscent of Singapore in many ways even having an integral shopping plaza making it indistinguishable from any other large city. We have an ice cream sundae there as an external café was so full of smoke from the al fresco area we didn’t stay.

Back on to the metro for a trip to Jardin du Luxembourg. If we were surprised at the crowds las night, we are more so this afternoon. People are almost elbow to elbow in some areas and in many areas every bit of green grass is occupied. The hundreds of chairs provided are occupied and as soon as one is vacated, another person occupies it. There is a children’s playground which is packed and horses and ponies being ridden. Paris is a city with loads of amenity and the city dwellers, many of whom live in cramped apartment accommodation, use the limited open park areas to the max.

Back on the metro for a trip back to le Halle, our closest station, 300 metre from our apartment. We have some refreshments then out again as we want to visit St Merri cathedral which is close to last year’s apartment and close to the Pompidou. It is open until 6.45 and we arrive by 6.15 but despite two trips around its circumference, we cannot find an open entrance. There are signs at doors that the next door is the entrance but this proves to be similar to a card with PTO on both sides. Looks like we are not destined to see St Merri.

So back again to our apartment as Ro’s knee and feet are complaining from today’s long walks . We have, of all things, a dinner of KFC ( or is that KFP in France: a little French language joke now that I am in the know ). The plan was to have it on the banks of the Seine as the night is very warm but tomorrow we will regret that if Ro is lame.

Monday 10th September 2012

We are starting to mark time. We leave Wednesday and we have our sights set on home. So what to do today? By 11am we have a bit of an itinerary. We will go to a market which is near la Bastille and open in the am.

We leave le Halle and travel one station to Chatelet. Yesterday we walked but that was because the met tricked us into walking underground to that station as the station we wanted was Chatelet-le Halle, which seems to be a French joke for those not in the know. When we change lines, often the walk is as long as having walked at ground level to the station required. There are a few secrets known only to those in the know in France.

We travel to Bastille then try a new line for us for a station or two to Ledru-Rollin where we exit. We had consulted a map underground and now need to get our bearings at ground level. That way, we think. We walk and reach the market without too much effort…... the CLOSED market. Our book neglected to mention the market is every day except Monday. Oh well. Riding the metro is fun so we return home with some pastries for coffee. We bought some Nescafe sachets yesterday and the advantage of then is we know what we will get. With the plethora of coffee descriptions available, ordering is a bit of a mystery bag. So making our own is safe and made to our liking.

After our treats, we get back on the metro to visit the Paris Opera House. We saw it from the outside last year on our way to the somewhat disappointing La Fayette department store and want to see inside.

The Opera House is just across the way from the metro. After a quick security check of our bag, we enter the building through some vaulted cloisters and buy two tickets. Then, after standing in a line for a while, Ro sees a machine which takes credit cards This speeds up our progress considerably.

The Opera House is absolutely spectacular. It was obviously designed with the thought in mind that way too much opulence is not enough. It seems that the lessons of excess by past royals which resulted in deposition and death were quickly forgotten. Anything we have seen in the various palaces is easily matched by what is here. As a legacy to the populations of today building such as these are wonderful and this building must be among the best.

The Grand Staircase is of magnificent marble adorned with statues. The towering space above the staircase is painted with four sections depicting different musical themes with an ornate chandelier , one of many throughout the building. On the second level is a sumptuously decorated foyer which was intended to resemble the gallery of a classical chateau( palace). It is intended to provide an area to stroll through during performance intervals. It has 8 or 10 chandeliers either side and is lavishly decorated with gilt and ceiling paintings. The tall windows out to the balcony exaggerate the towering ceiling.

We enter the main auditorium which is also lavish. Four levels of boxes tower above the stalls. All chairs are thick red velvet. Above the stalls, the boxes have two or three seats with a divider between each set. Entering from the auditorium access foyer through individual doors, each pair of boxes has an antechamber in which coats etc may be left and include a sitting area out of sight of the auditorium. Everything is decorated in deep red velvet, all with subdued lighting. Visiting for a performance would be quite an experience.

The auditorium has a massive 8 tonne chandelier and a Mark Chigal painted ceiling which was commissioned in the 1960s. It depicts composers with a scene from a representative work. The whole experience is at least as memorable as any chateau.

We return to the rather less opulent metro and back to our rather more opulent apartment. More than the metro and less than the opera house, that is. Everything is relative.

Ro’s knee is causing her problems so I take the opportunity to visit the Museum of Erotica. This museum has erotic art from various cultures and periods. It is more art than erotica and emphasises the views of, mostly, eastern cultures that sex is healthy and wholesome rather than the western view that sex is sleezy. There are sculptures, carvings, drawings and paintings all celebrating the wonder and power of procreation. However, in many cultures, a phallus is as much a sign of power and protection as an organ of procreation. It is an interesting and informative visit.

I get back to the apartment about 8pm. We have previously decided we will visit the Eifel Tower at night time as we have seen Paris from Sacre Coeur in daylight. We get onto the metro, now being familiar with how to get around, and travel to the metro station closest to the tower. While we travel, it has begun to rain a little. Fortunately it is not heavy and during the 400 metre walk to the tower we only get damp.

The tower weaves its magic as we get closer. It is truly beautiful, particularly when lit at night. We walk under the massive structure and consider climbing the stairs to the second level. However Ro’s knee is likely to be made uncomfortable on the downward journey so we opt instead for the lift. We don’t need to go to the top level and the lower level will be less crowded anyway.

The queue is still 100 metre long and we take 30 minutes to weave our way to the lift. It is still raining a bit and once the queue moves out of the shelter of the tower we get quite damp. We consider exiting the queue but barricades make that difficult. As we consider our options the rain stops and we are dry for the rest of the wait.

The trip in the lift takes a minute or so. The lifts were the largest capacity in Europe when installed in 1990s with a total of 110 people over 2 levels. The view is captivating with the atmosphere freshly scrubbed by the light rain. We see the silhouettes of familiar buildings. . Boats with their bright lights move lazily along the Seine as it snakes its way toward the horizon before being obscured by buildings.

There is a queue to descend and it is 11.30 before we get to the bottom. We retrace our steps and take the metro home. We are amazed at the number of people still using the system at midnight on a Monday. Paris is advertised as a safe city at night and we feel perfectly safe. It is suggested that le Halle Forum, our exit point, is not the place to be at night but there are still a few people exiting the met there.

After a Monday 10th September 2012

We return to the rather less opulent metro and back to our rather more opulent apartment. More than the metro and less than the opera house, that is. Everything is relative.

A drink to quiet down after out outing and we go to bed about 1am. We like Paris.

Monday 10th September 2012

We return to the rather less opulent metro and back to our rather more opulent apartment. More than the metro and less than the opera house, that is. Everything is relative.

Ro’s knee is causing her problems so I take the opportunity to visit the Museum of Erotica. This museum has erotic art from various cultures and periods. It is more art than erotica and emphasises the views of, mostly, eastern cultures that sex is healthy and wholesome rather than the western view that sex is sleezy. There are sculptures, carvings, drawings and paintings all celebrating the wonder and power of procreation. There are more phalluses than you can poke a stick at, so to speak. However, in many cultures, a phallus is as much a sign of power and protection as an organ of procreation. It is an interesting and informative visit.

A drink to quiet down after out outing and we go to bed about 1am. We like Paris.

Tuesday 11th September 2012

This morning it is raining steadily. We need to pack and we are happy to take our time. If the day clears up, we may go down to the tower and visit the right bank opposite which we have not seen. We also have not seen much of the Latin Quarter but that may have to wait for another time. We think we will be back.

It is still raining when Ro wants to do a bit of shopping so we leave with umbrella open. It is steady rain and we need the umbrella. We had lost one umbrella at Adi’s in Offenburg and have not replaced it so we look at a 5 euro one. To be on the safe side, we open it. It has no catch so we try another. It has got a catch….. the catch is the slightest puff of wind will destroy it. We leave the shop without the 5 euro umbrella probably not much wetter than had we bought the umbrella. We do buy a couple of other things.

We walk further and, to my extreme excitement, see a mobile crane lifting a steel access frame onto the Pompidou. It has 120 tonne of counterweights and the secondary jib is 15 or 20 metre long on top of a 15 or 20 metre high main jib. This is what dreams are made of. As Ro does her shopping I watch ,transfixed.

After watching for half an hour, we return to our apartment as the rain is still steady and do some more packing.

Later as the rain eases we leave to visit the right bank opposite the Eifel Tower. Taking the metro to now familiar stations we exit two stations past where we alighted last night. We want to see the Trocadero Fountain which is said to be spectacular at night time. We probably won’t wait until nightfall but want to see it anyway.

Spectacular is a reasonable description, especially as the main fountain jets which are not always on, start as we watch. There are also some more wonderful shots available of the tower which still fascinates us whenever we see it.

We walk around some other gardens in the area then continue up the Seine as Ro wants to see the pseudo memorial to Princess Diana near the tunnel in which she was fatally injured. Near the Pont d’Alama is a reproduction of the flame from the torch of the Statue of Liberty. This was erected by the International Herald Tribune newspaper to mark their centenary but, since Diana’s death, has been a pseudo memorial to her. There are flowers, cards, photographs and written tributes to her, especially following the 15^th anniversary of her death last month. It is very moving, especially seeing tributes written in texta all around the area. She most certainly touched a chord with very many people.

Back on to the metro, where it is just past peak hour but still very crowded. It is interesting to observe that the normal rules of interpersonal space disappear in peak hour. With everyone crushed together, especially at entry and exit at stations, what presses against what is largely ignored in the scramble to get on board. It is an interesting social phenomenon.

We get back home by 7pm ready to transfer the contents of the fridge to our stomachs so we don’t have to throw much out. As mentioned previously, we have already reached out quota of waste food this year.

By 10.30 we are in bed hoping for a good night’s sleep before our arduous flight home.

Wednesday 12th September 2012

This morning it is overcast but dry. A major advantage as we have to lug all our baggage to the Forum Des Halles to get the RER to the airport.

We still have some packing to do before leaving by 9. We use a digital fish scale to get our bags close to the 20 kg allowance. However, Scot has asked us to bring back some bottles of a non alcoholic German beer and the weight of them is close to 6 kg. They need to be in our hold luggage as liquids of their combined volume are not allowed in hand luggage. This means our hand luggage will be close to the 7kg limit. Everything ends up a bit heavier than allowed and we hope we won’t be stuck with excess baggage, shown on the web as $60/kg.

By 9 we exit the apartment and close the door leaving the keys inside as directed in the supplied notes. The walk to the RER only takes 4 or 5 minutes and we are soon on the platform looking at signs which we don’t find easy to understand. We ask a fellow passenger if the train goes to CDG and she says the next train does. When we ask how she knows that, she explains in good English but we still don’t understand. Another little mystery only available to those in the know.

One way or another we end up on the correct train which stops at Terminal 1 and 3 then continues to terminal 2. We need terminal 1 so alight at the penultimate stop. Up the escalator from the platform…..but now what? There are signs to terminal 1 but, like other French signs, they are hints not directions. We cannot see anything which looks like an aircraft terminal. What we did not know is that we must take the escalator back down to platform level then the shuttle from the station to terminal 1.

Finally we are in what is recognisable as an airport terminal. We are directed to Singapore checkn and at long last we are on our way home.

The flight leaves on time at 12 noon and we while away 12 hours with a film or two, a documentary or two and plenty of food. Singapore service is very good. This time the entertainment system is more to our liking also.

Thursday 13th September 2012

The stopover at Singapore passes quickly. We buy some duty free perfume and board the aircraft at 9pm local time for the 7 hour flight to Australia. I had thought our itinerary listed the aircraft as a 747 but it turns out to be an A380, which is good as they are roomy and quite. We have not slept much and don’t sleep much on this flight. But after what seems like an eternity at the time is not so bad in hindsight and we are finally touching down at Tullamarine. It is good to be home.

We pass through the automated scanning system for passport control after working out how to get it to read the chip in our passports. The fact that we don’t immediately understand the signs in our own country maybe suggests the French signs may not have been the problem in France. What could be the common element, I wonder?

Jacinta has kindly offered to pick us up but it is Brad who arrives. It is good to be on familiar roads with familiar sights.

We go back to Jacinta and Brad’s for a welcome home drink . Scot has called in from taekwondo so we chat for an hour about our travels and what has happened at home. Bella, our dog, has stayed there a bit and she welcomes us home, not quite sure whether to believe her senses.

About 10 we drive home, me having some slight difficulty adjusting back to left hand side of the road. After a shower we wearily climb into our lovely bed. Space at last zzzzzzzzzzzzz.

2012 The Journey Continues

marfee7 — Wed, 20 Jun 2012 15:46:00 GMT

Wednesday 6^th June 2012

Well our odyssey for 2012 is about to start. Everything is ready, not a single item overlooked….if you ignore the fact that we don’t know how the van fared over the winter….. or the fact that we don’t know how we get to Charroux at this point…..or the fact that we haven’t done any preliminary packing yet. But that is as close as dammit to everything ready.

And all is ready for our departure…if you overlook the call we got from our tenants that the roof is leaking….and we have to organise the sale of a car ….. and we are negotiating to maybe buy a property. But that is as close as dammit to everything prepared.

So what more could we ask? We leave Tulla at 3pm next Friday on a Singapore Airlines A380 flight to Singapore then, after a 3 hour stay, continue by A380 to Paris, arriving Saturday morning 7.30am bright eyed and bushy tailed, if the ads are to be believed. We choose to fly economy due to the extra side support provided by other passengers during heavy banking to port or starboard. We also find that extreme contortions required when eating during the flight helps keep the upper torso supple. These advantages are denied the business class and first class passengers. To be fair, the deprivations are offset by the odd other advantage.

Once we arrive at CDG, we take the RER to Paris and the TGV to Poitiers where our adventures begin. The level of the adventure will initially be determined by what -15deg C over winter did to the van. We have learned that the tarp we placed over the van, anchored by heavy pieces of wood, which would not move in a gale, did. Whether it is shredded or not we don’t know, but it did not afford a lot of protection.

Friday 15^th June 2012

Miraculously, all is ready and we leave at 12.45 courtesy of Scot who takes us to the airport. We are very grateful and bid him farewell until we see him near Frankfurt in about 4 weeks. He is spending four weeks from mid July with us touring Germany and perhaps Denmark and maybe even a bit of Sweden.

We pass through checkin without incident. This is partly through learning last year not to offer any information which is not asked for. So the 12volt fan in one of the bags is left for security to puzzle over. We assume that it didn’t bother them as we heard no announcements and they allow us onto the flight.

But not before Ro mislays her passport at passport control. As she rummages through her passport safe keeping pocket (so safe it even prevents her accessing it), the official gets uneasy and the security officers probably contemplate what sort of criminal mind is lurking disguised as a mild mannered middle aged woman. But after searching the three pockets ten times, the passport is located, scanned by big brother and we proceed to boarding.

Once all have boarded, stewards busy themselves by handing out what seem to be anaemic chicko rolls with tongs I remember using on Erlenmeyer flasks in chemistry 45 years ago. One steward we watch cocks his little finger, presumably because of years of offering tea in noisy environments. The chicko. rolls turn out to be hot towels which are quite pleasant to use on the face and hands.We take off for Singapore, about 40 minutes behind time.

Singapore Airlines seems quite good, although we find that the entertainment offerings are not entirely to our taste. The stewardesses are beautifully dressed in tight fitting bodices and long skirts which are somewhat restrictive of movement. We wonder if they have Velcro strips which allow them to discard them in an emergency leaving them wearing company supplied colour coordinated G-strings. Some of the black suited stewards look like they would like to do the same, but not for reasons of mobility. I am not a nervous passenger but I do find myself musing over emergencies. Not serious ones…..just ones which would require better stewardess mobility.

We arrive at Singapore later than expected and make our way to the next departure gate. What was to be a three hour wait ends up being far less before we need to board for our 12 hour leg to Paris. A slight concern is that the gate lounge is signed as being a 20 minute walk and boarding begins in 25 minutes. Fortunately, they must have checked the walking time with an extremely slow walker as it takes us about 7 or 8 minutes.

This leg will involve trying to sleep, which is a major advantage in economy. With over 100 people in our section of the cabin, there is not one snorer! This is probably because there are no people sleeping! It is difficult if not impossible to sleep in a chair and certainly not to get to snoring. How blissful. Contrast this with business or first class or suites. At sleeping time, with people comfortably lying down, it must be like feeding time at a piggery! And in economy we have no stewards/stewardesses bothering us with “ Would sir like to put a complementary babies dummy in his mouth?” or “Would madam like to put a tennis ball in the back of her silk pyjamas?” or “ No sir, we are not experiencing mechanical problems. That is the passenger in suite 4”.

Some would say they want first class anyway. But verily I say unto you “ Show me a man who says “Give me first class every time” and I will show you a man who will have trouble finding a benofactor. Enough of this rubbish: a result of too much time on my hands!

Having abandoned hope of sleeping despite the quiet cabin, We amuse ourselves by walking to the toilet and back to keep circulation going. We use the supplied toothbrushes which double as floss as the bristles shed in ones mouth and lodge in the teeth. The short length of the bristles make it difficult to oscillate effectively, but fortunately, Ro has smuggled some actual dental floss on board right under the noses of security. We assume it is banned through fear of garrotting the pilots after breaking down the terrorist proof flight deck door. The real dental floss we use to dislodge the bristles.

The toilets are well equipped and have drawers with various helpful requirements. One shows the contents as being shavers and as I have not shaved in 24 hours, I look in the drawer. Instead of a razor I find a comb. It may be that Singaporeans grow facial hair rapidly, but I do not need to comb 24 hour stubble. I realise that razors would be banned as any self respecting pilot would cave in to any demand from a terrorist threatening to shave his designer stubble.

Saturday 16^th June 2012

Finally our sleepless ordeal is over and we land at CDG. Paris has turned on a cool, overcast and wet day. After reclaiming our bags we make our way to the transport exit and choose to take a bus to Montparnasse Gare (station) where we are to take the TGV at 12:15 to Poitiers.

The bus trip gives a good view of outer Paris suburbs on its route to Montparnasse. High rise apartments are common and signs of French architectural flare are not evident. However, as we get closer to Montparnasse, the familiar elegant buildings of last century and earlier come into view and we again enjoy the sights.

We pass Gare de Lyon which is a delightfully elegant building and a long, old railway bridge which has been converted to an elevated promenade. It was suggested to us in Melbourne that we look at it and, having glimpsed it, we decide we will return during our week in Paris in early September.

We leave the bus with our bags, one of which is smaller than last year, but equally unruly in its behaviour. It is our intention to find a locker for our bags so we can go walking in the area while waiting for the TGV which leaves at 12:15. After some unnecessary circuits of the area, we find the locker area, hoping that the lockers will be big enough for our big bag. However, one look at the X Ray machines and general security and we decide that it is not worth the effort. Instead we flop down at a table, build a small pyramid with our luggage, and have a cup of coffee and a pain aux raisins (a raisin Danish pastry scroll). By this time it is about 10:30 and we board our train about 12 so it is not too difficult to pass the hour and a half. The architects of the station we guess were the same as those of the apartments we saw from the bus. A lot of ugly concrete and little attention to aesthetics. Even when new it would not have been attractive.

Ro passes the time watching patrons of a “beauty bubble”, a gold fish bowl shop near where we sit. For 10 euro ($13) women have a hair cut which takes about 3 minutes!! Little styling but quite an acceptable result. The hairdresser, a quite pregnant young woman, is kept busy with one customer after another. The customer sits on a plastic hair dressing chair and after a whirl of snipping is disgorged a few minutes later and is immediately replaced by another. Rather different from hair dressing salons in Melbourne.

We know from last year that the platform from which the TGV leaves will be shown about 15 minutes before departure, so we wait near the scheduling board and go to our train when the platform number is displayed. This year we lashed out and spent an extra 12 euros for first class tickets. As no one will be sleeping except us, snoring won’t be an issue.

We locate our carriage, also less of a problem than last year as we know about the LCD screens on the carriages. We climb aboard with our bags and trundle through the carriage to the luggage section. In so doing, I nearly dislocate a passenger’s shoulder, but he is forgiving when he discovers we are not French…… what else could he expect?

The TGV glides out of the station dead on time and is soon almost silently zipping through the countryside. As we speed through tunnels, the pressure wave assaults the ears rather unpleasantly and as a train passes the other way there is a percussive thump which is alarming until one is familiar with it. With five minutes to Poitiers, I get our bags from the luggage rack and steer them through the carriage. At the exit, passengers afraid of missing their stop with their luggage crowd around the doors. As the doors open, a tidal wave of bags and people gush from the train. For the uninitiated, it is a guess which side the platform will be.

This time we know there is a lift on the platform so there is no having to lug our bags up a flight of stairs. A definite improvement on last year! Soon we are outside the station with our mountain of baggage.

We are expecting Mavis and Terry to meet us at the station and are slightly alarmed when they are still not there after 10 minutes. As their little car is too small for us and our bags, we expect them in the van and thoughts of breakdown or some other problem start to intrude, especially as we don’t have any easy way of contacting them other than by public phone to their mobile which involves guesswork as to which prefixes are required. However they arrive in their Land Rover as they drove out this year in order to bring their three dogs. They had taken a wrong turn and had done an unintended circuit or two of Poitiers.

The trip from Poitiers takes about 45 minutes through lovely countryside and villages before we reach Charroux which is delightful and which we think of as home in France. It is nice to be back in the gite (the very tastefully refurbished barn) and we are soon starting to prepare the van.

We are cautiously then boisterously welcomed by the three dogs, a Labrador and two Springer Spanniels, one of which is a 6 month old orally fixated puppy which continually jumps up on one with large and sometimes dirty paws.

The van has wintered reasonably well with the exception of a smashed bottle of water which had frozen in the van door. Not surprising as temperatures had reached -17 deg C in the depths of winter. There is some mould in the fridge and on a few surfaces and on a pillow slip but generally all is well.

John, who helped us last year, arrives and we renew our friendship. He and his wife Carol will join the four of us for dinner in an hour or so.

We enjoy our first shower for 30 hours and change for dinner. We decide to lie down for a minute or so………… big mistake. We wake an hour later, fortunately not having held up dinner.

The evening is enjoyable with lots of laughs and the odd risqué joke. By 11 we have finished a tasty meal cooked by Mavis, including her delicious bread and butter pudding and some lovely trifle brought by Carol. Our tiredness is catching up so we retire to the gite and have a welcome sleep.

Sunday 17^th June 2012

We awake refreshed and ready to complete our preparations. Our plan is to leave Monday morning but there are two business requirements which we need to attend to before leaving. One is the van insurance which will expire in August and the second is a replacement vignette, equivalent to a roadworthy certificate, for the windscreen which I had removed last year believing it to be an expired tollway vignette. Assuming we can get it replaced!

As Ro does some internal spring cleaning and washing of linen and towels, I wash the external surfaces of the van. Our polishing last year makes it easy to clean and soon it is looking presentable. We pack the things from our bags into lockers. Terry has kindly charged the batteries so soon we are nearly ready for our journey.

However, before leaving last year, I had checked the wiring for an external light which was constantly on when a bulb was fitted. I thought I would just quickly dismantle the rear of the van to correct the fault. After some checking, I correct the wiring and voila we have an external light! The bad news is that we have no internal light! The wiring leaves a bit to be desired. More tracing and the internal light is working. A bit more fiddling and the fridge ignite is working properly. Now all that does not work is the 12 volt on the fridge. But the fridge 240 volt and fridge gas work so the 12 volt can wait.

About 4.30 we are mostly ready so decide to go for a walk. We walk along country lanes admiring the old buildings and thinking how nice it would be to do up a building. But we seem to think that in many areas…Croatian islands, Austria, Switzerland and so it is to be expected that we would also think that in Charroux. But Charrous is special as we have adopted it.

We return for a light dinner outside on a mild evening and retire to bed about 11.

Monday 18^th June 2012

I get up around 6.30am as I have to refit the panels and restack the cupboards. That done, we go over to Mavis for breakfast.

Around 9 am we set off for Savigne, about 5 km away, to get a new vignette and renew the insurance. After some discussions in French and English, we are told that the insurance cannot be renewed until August when the old policy expires. But we won’t be here. Can we pay over the internet? Non. Can we use a credit card? Non. We can pay be cheque…… but we have no cheque book. Finally we opt to pay Mavis and she will send them a cheque. Now the vignette. Where was the test done? Poitiers. Are we going there? No. Do we have the certificate? Yes. Then no problem….we don’t need the vignette. So let’s get out of here!!!

We visit the supermarket opposite for some money for Mavis and some groceries for us then finally get on the road to our first night’s stay which is 270 km away. Maybe a bit of morning tea in the carpark first. Now to leave. Unfortunately the gate is now locked with us inside! But luckily someone with a remote also wants to leave so we don’t need to spend our holiday in a carpark.

Finally on the road! Getting used to right hand side driving is fairly easy this year. No bumping of tyres on curbs and fewer toots from other vehicles. With the exception of two trucks who tooted their horns when I pulled over in a village to let them pass. With narrow roads there are few opportunities for trucks to pass and they trend to chew one’s bumper on downhill runs. The two toots may have been thankyous but were marginally too long for thankyou toots so they may have thought I indicated for too little time before stopping. When toots require complex assessment I see that as a sign I am fitting in to the driving culture.

We have left rather later than we expected and as last year we program TomTom to avoid motorways. This makes the 270 km fairly slow going. However the rewards are beautiful scenery, quaint villages and little traffic. But our arrival time at our overnight stay will be later than expected.

Last year we became blasé about the beautiful villages but once again the magic is rekindled as we drive down narrow streets with stone buildings abutting the road either side. Some villages consist of sparse buildings of simple design while others are crowded and show architectural merit from bygone days.

This year we manage to find spots other than cemeteries to have lunch and morning tea. Not that it is easy to avoid stopping near one as every village worth its salt has a walled cemetery.

The kilometres click by and we arrive at our camping spot. The people are welcoming and speak quite good English. We set up in the designated area which is actually set aside for the disabled. But we agree to limp while we are there and so we set up on that site.

As we stayed there one night last year, we know there is a walk we want to try. Last year it was too hot for walking but this year is quite a bit cooler, despite this supposedly being the hotter part of the year. We negotiate a moss covered track wondering if the disabled spot had been allocated guessing we may go walking over mossy rocks. But all is well and we reach the bottom of the steep hill without incident. There is a stone borie (shelter) of the type we saw last year but smaller and the walk through the forest trees is restful after our drive.

We have our first meal in the van and retire about 9.30 for our first night. The temperature is pleasant and we sleep well, awaking about 6.30 for breakfast and a walk.

Tuesday 19^th June 2012

We plan to leave about 10am to arrive at Domaine de la Sabliere, 250 km away, by mid afternoon. The leaving at 10 goes nearly to schedule but the arriving mid afternoon does not.

A right hand side of the road moment occurs as we leave the campsite. Expecting to turn left and forgetting the right side of the road bit, Ro points out we need to turn right, not left, just as a car enters the camp. Naturally I pull over to the left to make room for the entering car. Unfortunately that is where he is intending to drive. Fortunately it is a slow manoeuver so with a bit of repositioning no harm arises. The driver is not greatly concerned and waves graciously at my embarrassed flurry of steering wheel turning.

Along the way we watch for Liedel or Aldi stores as we find shopping there familiar and inexpensive. We often find signs which tantalize us with promises of certain things (Liedel included) which suggest certain directions but which don’t finally deliver. Such a sign was pointing to a Liedel store in a town. We drive toward the town, ignoring Thomnasina’s school marm directions to do a u turn or write out 50 times “I will not be disobedient”. This is a large town without the quaint stone buildings but instead consisting of the usual stores, petrol stations and general ugliness common in today’s society. But we cannot see any Liedel. Finally we see an Aldi and we muse about how piqued Liedel would be that their sign is inspiring us to buy at Aldi. We go to the door with our bags. The doors remain closed despite the store having lights on. Some other customers arrive, chatting excitedly in french and walking toward the doors expecting them to open. They don’t. Ro looks at signage and spots a poster to one side announcing in French that the store is closed for two hours for inventory. She proudly directs the french people to the notice and we all leave now understanding why we couldn’t get in.

We drive a little further and are just about to give up when Ro spies the little yellow red and blue sign which announces Liedel. A leisurely trip around the store and we are stocked and ready to continue.

Our route continues through verdant fields and pastures of various types and we see wild poppy and other flowers growing by the roads. The poppies are very delicate and shrivel after a short time if not put quickly in water. The significance of the poppy as a remembrance flower is powerfully brought home seeing them growing wild and in their natural environment.

However it is now about 3 pm and we still have 150 km to go. We are meeting an English couple whom we met on the cruise last year at la Sabliere and we had said we would be there early to mid afternoon. But all we can do is continue and hope the next 150 km is faster than the previous 100.

It isn’t. Thomasina has plotted a mountainous route along narrow poorly up kept roads with large drops next to the outside lane in which we are travelling. This is quite a tiring bit of the trip as I watch every turn for oncoming vehicles which sometimes career past with local knowledge of the room available which we do not possess.

Finally we arrive tired but happy to be a few hundred metres from our destination…….which is nowhere in sight. We has set the GPS coordinates into TomTom but, as we have sometimes found, they were in error. So we try entering the address and find our new destination is only 5 km away. Finally we reach Domaine de la Sabliere by 6pm.

The people next to our site say hello in English, despite the French plates on the van. How did they know when I had sain Bon Jour to them. Perhaps I need to work on the pronunciation of my vast French vocabulary of 4 words. But, no. Our friends had been looking for us 5 hours ago!

We are about to set up when they arrive and welcome us. They suggest we go to their cabin for a before dinner drink then go and have dinner at the restaurant and that suits us.

Domaine de la Sabliere is a very large site, well treed and with restaurants, pools etc and access to the river some 100 meters below down paved but steep roads. We are here for six days and looking forward to walking and swimming. The weather is pleasant but not particularly warm so walking at this stage looks more in order than swimming.

Our emplacement is nestled amongst other sites but well treed so provides a pleasant environment. Access paths wind and twist creating interest and aesthetic appeal but it does make orientation a bit of a challenge. The access paths to emplacements are not paved but the main access routes are concrete or asphalt. This is necessary as the main paths are very steep.

Alan and Janice lead us to their chalet, a timber hut somewhat minimalist in design but well equipped. It has a large balcony where we have nibbles and a glass of wine or two. About 7 we decide to go to the restaurant for dinner. This involves a walk of probably 800 metre down quite steep serpentine roads. The river is another 40 metres vertically below the restaurant.

We order dinner of chicken and later have ice cream, served by a friendly young French woman. We have been discussing the word ‘Chambon’ with Alan and Janice who are proficient in French but they don’t know it’s meaning. We discuss further with the waitress who speaks reasonable English. However she does not know the word either. After some alternatives she offers that she knows a village Chambon but not a word. With a laugh we realise the sign Ro saw was a village name sign.

After dinner we return to our respective lodgings. The steep walk down now requires a steep walk back, but now it is very dark with no moonlight. We follow Alan hoping he knows the way and can see the road.

A shower before bed will be most enjoyable. However the showers are only tepid and the night is cool. Furthermore, they have push buttons which allow only 10 or 20 seconds before requiring re pressing. We find one which lasts 40 seconds and that is much better.

Wednesday 20^th June 2012

We awake to light rain on the van. It is overcast but blue sky in the distance promises a fine day.

After breakfast I cycle up to the wifi tent to check emails. I start pedalling in top gear up the steep hill. But soon I am puffing so much I walk up the rest of the hill.

The tent has three of four people tapping away on computers and I join them. The link is reasonable and I am soon finished. I return on the bike, down some steep hills with my front brake squeeling enough to wake the dead.

About 10 we walk to Alan and Janices chalet and we all decide to go down to the river. While they get ready we visit the pools which are located toward the river. There are three pools including one heated and covered pool and two outside pools. They are set in attractive surroundings with a view toward the heavily wooded, steep and rocky sides of the opposite bank of the river. Rocks have been used to decorate the terrace and there are dozens of sun lounges which at this stage are mostly free.

Alan and Janice join us after 15 minutes and we swim and enjoy the sun for half an hour before walking down to the river. By now it is quite warm and the swim in the river is most refreshing. It is a beautiful and clean river with rocks to rest on and dive from.

Early afternoon we decide to go back for lunch. Unfortunately the steep walk from last night is now steep and hot so we are pleased to reach the van and have a shower to resolidify. But the tepid shower of last night is now too warm. The temperature is the same but our requirements have changed and the temperature is fixed. At least the evaporation of the water cools us.

We adjust the van position to make use of the shade and eat lunch inside the van which is starting to get hot. I wire in the fan I brought from Australia and the air flow helps.

Ater resting we return to the pool where Alan and Janice have located themselves having used the pool as their preferred method of cooling off following their walk from the river.

They suggest we join them for dinner at their hut and we do so, leaving the pool about 6.45 when it is still hot and sunny. Dinner consists of a rice entrée followed by a delicious spaghetti bolognaise. After spirited discussions on a variety of subjects, we return to the van, shower and go to bed about 11pm.

Thursday 21^th June 2012

Today is starting warmer than yesterday, which probably reached mid 30s. We have our usual breakfast of fruit, muesli , pre toasted bread and jam and coffee. Then a bicycle ride to the wifi tent.

This time I take a less steep road which allows me to keep pedalling but for longer so I am puffing just as much when I reach the tent.

A cheery Bon Jour to the sole occupant and I pick up my emails and download my scribblings. Then back on the bike for an easy trip back. The brakes are squealing less today and are much needed. Falling off on the road would remove a lot of skin and disrupt our journey.

We have suggested to Alan and Janice that we go to the river with the van so we have facilities for morning tea and lunch. We drive to their cabin at 10 and down to the river, staying in first gear all the way. It reminds us of our trip over the alps last year where we stayed in first both up and down the alps for 20km or so.

At the river we find a spot to park and set up on the pebbly beach. We are glad we have brought water shoes with us as the pebbles and rocks are smooth but hard on the feet. Swimming down stream a few hundred metres we come across a pebble beach on the other side where we go for a walk, admiring the rocky banks in the deep ravine in which the river flows.

The river is about 15 to 20 metre wide and is quite deep in the middle and by the far bank. The water is pleasantly cool and clean with an overall green hue.

Around 11.30 we go back to the van, 50 metre away from our towels on the river bank, and have coffee and biscuits before returning to the river. The sun is hot now so we find whatever shade we can and apply adequate sun screen. The beach has become crowded with dozens of tanned people enjoying the natural beauty.

A little later Ro purchases some baguettes at the shop near the restaurant we ate at two nights ago and the four of us climb into the van to eat them. It is a comfortable and convenient way to have lunch and keeps the insects away. Although we are pleasantly surprised how few insects there are. Not anything like Australia.

We drive back to our site late afternoon and have dinner in the van by ourselves. Alan and Janice leave tomorrow at 8am so they have their packing to do. However we have a farewell drink with them before returning to the van for a shower and bed.

We have enjoyed their company the last few days and look forward to meeting up with them in Britain next year.

Friday 22^th June 2012

Friday dawns clear and warm. After a trip to the wifi tent by bike, I return for breakfast before going to the pool.

We spend the morning between the van and the pool, Ro mainly staying in the van reading because the sun is quite strong. We have quite a bit to read because Janice donated a shopping bag full of novels to us. Some of the synopses of the books look quite good and we each start reading.

It seems like the perfect day to find out how effective my evaporative cooler is. However, on the plane trip, the seal for the water recirculation pump (otherwise known as a windscreen washer pump) had been broken so the first job is to enlarge the hole in the plastic sewerage pipe I used for the body of the cooler. I had already asked Janice and Alan if I could borrow their 16 mm drill bit, which any self respecting holidaymaker carries as a matter of course. This should not be taken to mean I have no self respect because I didn’t bring one. But as luck would have it, they had forgotten to pack theirs, as had another camper I asked who claimed to be an engineer no less!!! Faced with this dilemma, I was contemplating life without an evaporative cooler when Ro suggested I heat a bit of metal and enlarge the hole that way. Shear brilliance! As luck would also have it, last year when we destroyed the push rods in the engine, I had kept one severely bent pushrod and the head is the right diameter. So I heat up the pushrod and it slices through the plastic making a neat hole unto which I can fit the inlet to the pump. A bit of ducting out the window and there we have an evaporative cooler. It remains to be seen whether it does anything. But even if it doesn’t, the fan moves the air quite effectively so that will be of some use.

About 11.45am we realise that the minimart closes at 12 and we wanted to get some bread. As the minimart is about 1 km away down a steep hill, near the restaurant at which we ate the other night, I hop on my trusty bike and speed off to buy the bread. I purchases one baguette and one larger baguette, called ‘un pain’ for under 2 euro, That was the easy bit. Getting back involves pushing the bike 90% of the way back up the hill. So back to the pool to cool off again.

The afternoon is spent similarly until 6pm when we decide to walk down to the river. During our walk we see lovely treed emplacements which we think we will move to for Saturday night By the time we return to the van, up the steep hill and via the pool, we have instead determined we will move now and stay by the river for two nights.

The emplacement we saw which we liked is booked from 30^th so we can use it for a few nights without any problem. We are not sure whether we have to let anyone know we are moving but assume we don’t. When we arrived the helpful guy at reception said we could move if we wanted to but did not make it clear whether we needed to inform them when doing so. I think he said as long as there is no reserved sign we can use it. If he did not say that, then my faulty memory has worked to our advantage.

The site is beautiful . We enjoyed where we were but this one is far better, with the sound of the running river and birds more audible and abundant greenery including total dappled shade over our van. Tomorrow we will decide whether we will stay on another day or so. We have until mid July to get to Frankfurt so staying here a bit longer will not have any adverse impact.

Saturday 23^rd June 2012

We notice that our new site is much cooler when we wake up. During the day we discover a bottle of water in the euphemistically termed freezer has actually frozen, proving the site is cooler. That may be the first bit of freezing the freezer has ever done! Certainly it is our first experience.

Talking of fridges, the electric ignition has stopped again. It seems to work for a while then stop for a while. But tomorrow I am going to check the fridge 12 volt so I should correct it then.

The day is spent either near the river, by the river or on the river, A very relaxing day, without any trips up steel hills. The flat terrain makes riding back and forth a pleasure.

Walks along the bank and in the river are very enjoyable, with few other people encountered.

By nightfall, we have decided to stay an extra day before heading toward Annecy which has one of the purist lakes in Europe so the tourist guide claims although 60 years ago the lake was almost dead through pollution. Annecy also has a 17^th century ‘old town’ which has retained much of its original authenticity. Two million tourists visit annually so we are hoping the other 364 days are very crowded.

Sunday 24th June 2012

We spend another day alternating between cooling off in the river and warming up in the sun. Plus a little bit of walking and bike riding. All very relaxing.

Our provisions are getting low so we spend a little time at the mini mart trying as usual to decipher French labels. We are improving in that area.

I also spend a relaxing hour pulling out the power supply to find our why the 12 volt on the fridge does not work. On opening the control box, I am confronted with myriad wires with no circuit diagram. But I am able to test the four relays which work and to anchor the fuse blocks which now seems to make the fridge ignite work. Some more fiddling with the fridge switch shows the switch to be faulty. A bit of cleaning and the switch is made to work. Now the gas, 12volt and 240 volt all work, with 240 volt the best at cooling and 12 volt the worst, we think.

The day is probably the hottest we have had yet although where we are camped, the influence of the trees and the river make it very pleasant. Our only problem is deciding whether we want to leave this idyllic setting tomorrow.

Monday 25th June 2012

It looks like it will be another beautiful day so by 9.30 we are still undecided whether to leave. By 9.31 we have taken an executive decision that we will leave. So after half an hour of frenzied activity we start the steep haul up to reception.

We intend to call via the campervan dump site. Contrary to what some may be thinking, this is an area where we can dump effluent from the van’s tanks. We have to pass it on our way out ….. but somehow we get to reception and have not passed it. We still have a way to go with our orientation so a quick circuit and we correctly locate it. The van is not fitted with a current cassette type toilet so emptying it involved setting a separate tank under the toilet outlet valve, connecting a flexible pipe between and opening the valve. To say it is like what a nightman had to do is painting a rather bleak picture, but it gives an idea. Care is important as is the ability to move quickly. The grey water is a bit more manageable as it can be dumped directly down the drain over which the van can be driven.

That completed we drive to reception to check out. Despite my telling the checkout chick twice that we stayed an extra night, our bill does not include an extra night. I find it hard to believe that the meaning got lost in the translation, but that may have been the case.

As we are checking out, we say hello to a fellow Australian we met last Christmas in Melbourne. We were probably the only two Australian couples they had had there for weeks or months. The fact that we know one another would have confirmed for them that the population is so small in the little country of Oz that everyone knows everyone else.

Thomasina tells us in an admonishing voice that it will take 5 hours to get to Annecy going by the back roads which we insist on using. As we have left Domaine de la Sabliere a bit later than we thought and want to buy some more provisions on the way, we opt to stay near Grenoble for a night.

The trip to Grenoble takes us through more delightful stone villages which probably have not altered in 100s of years expect for the addition of power lines and other accoutrements of 20 century living.

We eventually see an Aldi sign but cannot find the store. Instead we shop at a Carrefour supermarket. The downside is that there is too much choice so it takes us 40 minutes. By now it is mid afternoon and Thomasina is getting stroppy when we turn other than where directed. She says we will be there by 7pm which we think is a bit rich. However Thomasina knows something that we don’t. And that is that the next hour and a half will be along very narrow roads which are very steep and very winding. The roads are so narrow that they paint the white lines thinner so the road looks wider.

But before we reach this road, we cross a wide river on such a thin single lane bridge that the van’s mirrors only just fit between the support columns at each side. Traffic lights control the very limited traffic which saves us having to back up for oncoming traffic.

The mountain road is slow and tiring but the views are absolutely magnificent.

Finally we reach our camp site about 7pm which thankfully is at the GPS coordinates given as I have had enough driving after the high concentration needed for the mountainous road.

The people at the tiny reception hut are effusive in their welcome and explain all the facilities available. We get a dissertation on how to order bread despite my frequent comments that we are OK for bread. And we get a dissertation on the restaurant across the road, despite my frequent comments that we want to eat in the van. And so it goes on. Eventually, we are directed to choose a site and to inform him as to which one we have chosen. That is despite the fact that he can see from the hut where we have stopped. But I would take effusive over surly any day so I am not complaining.

The camping area is at least as picturesque as our last few day’s stay. There is more grass and fewer trees but the view is fantastic. We are up in the Rhone Alps district and all our climbing has places us up near the top of the world. We hope it is not going to be cold. Our host assures us the days are very warm.

We have dinner and a shower and go to bed about 11pm.

Tuesday 26th June 2012

The view we have from our van when we awake is wonderful. The rocky ridge opposite us, which is the near vertical edge of a hydroelectric dam, is sunlit with white clouds drifting past just below the top of the ridge. Large faces of bare rock are interspersed with lush green vegetation.

We have breakfast with this view, go to the pool for a swim then lie in the sun reading until morning tea.

We have asked what tourist attractions are in the area. The dam wall is one which is only 1.5 km away so we start there. The wall was built in the 1930s and there are pictures of the construction. It was certainly of gargantuan proportions. There is an observation area with more braille writing than I have seen before. Unfortunately the non braille is French so we don’t get a lot of information. The observation area has a sturdy but low steel fence. A sheaf of flowers forewarned us of the shear drop of several hundred metres to rocks and water below. We assume someone met his/her demise off the platform. Standing by the fence is slightly eerie for both of us. For Ro because she does not want to fall and for me because I want to jump! But after a short time we both adapt and enjoy the view.

Directly across from the platform is a train line which passes through tunnels through solid rock and along bridges perched on the side of the cliff face. However, one such bridge directly opposite was partially destroyed by a recent rock slide of thousands of tonnes. The train was used as a tourist attraction but will be out of action for some years even if it proves viable to rebuild. It would be quite a trip to take.

Another attraction to which we have been directed is a Himalayan style foot bridge across the lake. We drive toward it but discover it is a 4 hour round trip to walk or a 2 hour bike trip. It is too hot for cycling or walking so we decide to get a closer vantage point.

But before this we walk to the lake edge and observe the many water sports being enjoyed on the lake. The wind is quite strong and there are wind surfers, kite surfers and yachtsmen , all travelling at remarkable speeds across the lake.

Lunch is also partaken of before moving on to our next viewing point. We are parked outside a magnificent hotel/restaurant which has green ivy growing over its stone walls, a high pitched terracotta roof and gable windows. The well tended gardens complete the vista.

Getting to the alternate vantage point involves a circuitous path along the steep and winding roads of the area culminating in a drive across a suspension bridge with a drop of over 100 metre to the water below. I say culminating since at that point we decide that this suspension bridge will do us and we return to our camping place.

Part of the reason for returning was that we had been told we could walk to the lake in 15 minutes for a swim in its cool aqua waters. What we were not told was that during the walk we would descend probably 250 to 300 metre vertically….. and that we would also have to get back up! The 15 minutes proves to be optimistic by 100% so by the time we reach the water, a swim is more a necessity than a pleasure. However the dreaded return hike proves to be not as bad as expected, albeit with a few stops to allow our pulse rate and respiration to return to an acceptable level. On returning to the camp site, a dip in the pool is as much a requirement as the swim in the lake was on the downward trip. However the pool which seemed cool this morning seems quite warm this afternoon after the lake.

After nibbles and wine we don’t feel we need any more dinner so we have a few more snacky things and some desert (no one to tell us we can’t have desert if we don’t have a main meal) and get an early night with the intention of leaving early…..ish.

Wednesday 27th June 2012

By 8.30am we are ready to go, however dumping waste water, filling with fresh water, checking emails, paying our bill and giving the van a quick wash means it is 9.30 before we are ready to leave the property. We leave an Australian flag at the office and are informed we are the first Australian visitors. There is a post with different directions and distances to various European cities and we suggest we could point the Australian flag to Melbourne. It is suggested it would have to point directly down! Perhaps the longer path around the earth’s circumference would be easier.

The trip is mostly downhill and easy driving but far busier than the recent roads we have taken. Our path toward Annecy takes us close to Grenoble which is a decent sized city of 155,000 of whom 60,000 are students. It is a centre of technology and we drive through a university precinct and past buildings which look like they would be at home in Silicon Valley . Chances are they would as Grenoble has quite a name in nano technology and nuclear physics and it is nestled in a valley with alps peaking on every side.

Our trip is supposed to take 3 hours and, apart from a morning tea at a shaded roadside stop, we seem to be on track. Soon we discover that If we had continued for another half hour we would have been able to stop by a river the waters of which are aquamarine like the lake we swam in yesterday.

The drive by the river is very picturesque, as is the Rhone Alps region generally, with tree lined roads travelling next to the river for many kilometres.

As is our want, we have chosen a camping ground out of Annecy which is “off the beaten track”. In fact the track ends up beating us.

Thomasina instructs us to turn right at an inconsequential road and we enjoy leaving the traffic behind. We start to climb into the alps. Nothing new for us until we are instructed to make a hard left turn into a narrow bituminised road. Still nothing new, although I will get a bit of practice in reversing down steep roads if we meet another vehicle.

We continue ever forward and upward in first with the upward bit getting faster as the forward bit gets slower. Engine revs also get slower. Challenges, if we have not been challenged as yet, are offered up as we meet hairpin bends which must be taken at speed so as not to stop as we would not start again if we did. After each hairpin bend the motor slows to a point where it is touch and go as to whether the motor will stall. Each time the road just flattens enough to allow the revs to build up again.

We reach some stone houses where the road just squeezes past a barn, still climbing steeply. We have 4 km to our destination when the road turns to a stone track. Should we continue? Seems silly to continue but sillier to stop when we have come so far. So onward and upward to our first hairpin bend. We round the bend and the motor drops in revs. Will we get to a flatter section? The revs continue to drop until the inevitable happens and the engine stalls. At this point the clutch has not been working because it does not slip but to try to start from here would overtax it and who knows what is ahead.

The origin of flashes of wisdom is a mystery to me. Out of the blue we simultaneously experience an epiphany that this is not a good path to continue on. We think that the van realised that some time ago.

The reversing practice I thought I might get is only for a short stretch. And in any case I don’t have to do much reversing as the van is slipping backward on the stones. We negotiate a reversal of direction and both the van and we are relieved to be going down rather than up.

We stay in first gear on the descent, with Thomasina repeatedly saying to do a U turn. Perhaps madam would like us to do a hand brake turn at the next hairpin bend? In your dreams, baby. We continue.back past the barn and down through the hairpin bends, hoping all the time there will not be another vehicle as reversing up the hill around hairpin bends would be somewhat unpleasant. No other vehicle appears. Maybe that is not surprising.

Where Thomasina told us to turn left we continue straight. She recalculates with nerry a word of apology. Maybe she had a red face but we could not see it. Or did I hear a quiet voice say “Did I say turn left? I meant go straight”. But she does not utter another word for a few km. When she does she has regained her composure and tells us to turn left at the next road. We are wary this time and are prepared to tell her to stick her left turn in her power jack if the road looks as sus as the last one.

We take a chance and continue on another marginally less steep road which occasionally breaks into stone but then redeems itself as a bitumen road. Finally we come to a parking area with a sign saying our camping ground is 500 metre along a dirt and grass track. We decide to walk the track to see what problems await us.

As we walk the track we hear a symphony of cowbells. In a paddock is a herd of large milking cows. Around the neck of each cow is a wide leather belt with a large cow bell. The 20 or 30 cows are all moving and the sound of the bells is extraordinary. The sound emanates from within a magnificent alpine vista, with snow on far peaks and sun shining on all the peaks in the distance. We look down kilometres to villages far below, through wispy clouds which we are within.

Our walk takes us to a camping ground into which caravans are discouraged from entering. Other than those conveyed by helicopter. There are a few small campervans and small cars and tents and cabins. We decide once again that we have come too far not to go the last 500 metre so return and carefully drive up the track and up the final rev killing hill. The motor just continues to run up to the flat and after a bit of direction reversal we stop the van in an appropriate camping spot.

If the last two camp sites have been increasingly spectacular, this one continues the trend and is likely to be the pinnacle in both elevation and grandeur. The number of people about is inversely proportional to the grandeur.

We are welcomed in the same effusive fashion we experienced at our last site. We start with a quick swim in the pool which is set into a decking from which the view is spectacular. After a late lunch, it is now 3 pm, we are shown around by our host.

The main building is a century old barn with low ceilings and all of wood. Inside there is a wood fire for the colder months during which there would undoubtedly be snow and one would think it almost unreachable. Maybe our host is resident year round. He speaks mostly French with enough English to make himself understood.

A second building has recently been finished and is made of thick pine timber. The craftsmanship is excellent, with massive square timbers checked and notched into curved diagonal braces. Showers and toilets are a bit rudimentary but we can use those in the van if necessary.

Our intention had been to venture into Annesy with this as a base but the climb up and down has altered our plans. However the location is so spectacular we are happy to stay here for two nights before finding something a little easier to reach closer to Annesy.

As we don’t have to be to Scot until 15^th July, we are in no hurry so we can relax and proceed without haste.

Thursday 28th June 2012

It is light by 5.30 am and it does not get dark until 10.30pm. However we have been luxuriating in bed during our trip and generally get up about 8am. It is already sunny with wispy clouds and the quiet of the alps is only slightly disturbed by a far distance rumble which is probably the motorway passing somewhere relatively near by….probably 10 km away.

Last night we could see the orange street lights of a town far below us in the valley and its bustle may contribute to the rumble. As yet we have not heard the cow bells. Maybe they sleep in too.

After breakfast we walk back to the car park in which we originally stopped. As we walk, we hear the cowbell symphony both up the mountain and down in the valley. Stereophonic tinkling with one bass bell clanging from a lone cow next to the track.

We walk on from the carpark for another kilometre or so into the forest before retracing our steps.

The remainder of the day we spend by the pool and reading. By the end of the day, we are relaxed to the max and ready to continue tomorrow to Annecy.

We have found a campsite near the lake adjacent to Annecy and will travel there first. The guide book says there is a bike path around the lake which we had wanted to see so it should suit us. We may be able to ride into Annecy. And the camp site has a water slide!!!!!!! We love waterslides.

So off to bed about 10 pm as light is falling with a view to leaving early for the lake.

Friday 29th June 2012

We leave by 9am and commence the slow and steep descent. The exit track is only just wide enough for the van and the uneven surface causes us to lurch between trees on either side. There are rocks also waiting to assault the panels and at one point the electricity cable to the property is so low it is lifted by the roof of the van.

The bitumen road at the end of the track is a welcome sight, narrow as it is. As we descend the steep winding and narrow road, we hope not to meet another vehicle coming toward us. Presumably there are protocols to address such events but we don’t know them nor do we wish to learn about them. So it is relief that we turn onto the ‘main’ road, which is also narrow but purports to be two lanes. Two bicycle lanes perhaps.

On the flatter ground, we continue toward Annecy. As we near the lake, we see beautiful aqua waters framed by towering mountains. The lake reminds us of Lago Maggiore last year with houses built around the edge of the lake. The houses and lake size are not on the same grand scale but the lake is superior in water quality and general beauty.

After a half hour drive we reach the camp site we had in mind. The water slide is not very impressive, nor is the camp generally. We instead continue looking for something better. We see a bolangerie/patisserie and stop for some pain aux raisin of which we are very fond, and back track to a picturesque spot on the lake. We have coffee and cake then have a swim in the beautiful clean, clear water, which is cool but not cold.

Continuing on, a camping sign for a site by the lake attracts our attention. We decide to stay here and cycle into Annecy, about 9km away on a flat bike path. However, after settling in, we decide it is too hot (again in mid 30s) so instead go and swim in the lake again with the intention of moving closer to Annecy tomorrow and riding the last few km.

The site has 2 hours of wifi for 4 euro so we take the opportunity to Skype Scot and Jacinta. The contact and laughter is a huge pick me up as we are feeling the effects of language barriers. It is lovely to hear of life back home. (Tip: send an email to travelling friends to make both you and them feel good)

As our provisions are a bit low we cycle into the nearby town and visit the supermarket which, thankfully, is air conditioned, allowing Ro to re solidify. With back pack overflowing and shopping bags swinging wildly we ride back and read.

After dinner we ride by the lake until 9.30pm without requiring any headlight. We wear as little as possible as it is still hot.

Tonight is going to be one of out hottest this trip. Hope we sleep OK ready for our bicycle riding tomorrow.

Saturday 30th June 2012

The night is hot but does not impact on our sleep. The morning is cloudless and sunny and will be hot. We decide, instead of cycling 9 km , to drive closer to Annecy and cycle from there.

Our drive reveals nowhere to leave the van which will be safe from marauding parking inspectors or whatever they have here. We learn later that there was a camping car parking area on the way in but we did not see it. We end up driving through Annecy proper and out the other side along the lake. Finally we finds a roadside parking area which looks safe so we remove the bikes and cycle the two or three km into the town, taking towels and bathers for a swim when we get hot.

We cycle to the tourist bureau and get some pamphlets about the old city which we want to see. It is a convenient place to leave the bikes so we lock them to a railing and set off.

Annecy we have been told is magnificent and we discover this to be so. From the lake to the Jardine de Europe to the crystal clear little Venice canals and 16^th century buildings, the place is a treasure and well worth a visit. It has a lot of religious history and in times gone by was a major manufacturing centre.

Our attention is attracted by a church, Annecy’s Notre Dame (literally meaning ‘Our Lady”) which is inauspicious externally but architecturally inspiring inside, including a glass dome which lights the church wonderfully well, in marked contrast to most other churches we have seen which are generally dark and dingy inside.

We walk around the old town for some hours until we feel it time to return to the van for lunch as we do not want anything heavy and cannot not see anything else we fancy. We do find some delicious fruit salad which we enjoy in the park. Also, we are ready for a swim as it is very warm. Cycling back to the van, we change into bathers and cool off in the lake. Although not any of the crowded beaches, the rocky banks where we enter the water are still crowded.

After our swim, it is our intention to park the van in the camping car park we have found out about then ride back into the town. Most parking areas have height restrictors at 2 metre so our 2.8 metres limits where we can park. Getting to the camping car park involves driving back through Annecy, about 5 km from our current position. Progress is extremely slow due to traffic which we have observed building rapidly during the morning. Later it is pointed out to us that the school holidays have just begun, it is a weekend and it is very warm. Perhaps half the 2 million visitors per year are here today.

We finally get to the parking place and join a queue which it transpires is the queue for vehicles wanting to reverse out of the overflowing park. Our plans are modified and we end up returning to a shaded spot near last night’s campsite for a very late lunch.

It looks like we should have visited Annecy a day or so earlier. Contemplating the crowds of people and cars we are likely to encounter, we decide to continue and maybe visit Annecy again some other time not in school holidays….or on a weekend…but definitely when it is warm.

It is now 5pm and the camp site we want to reach is 1 ½ hours away according to Thomasina. Excluding the 20 minutes it takes us to get through the kilometre long traffic jam. Just before we get into Annecy, we thankfully turn left and are amazed at the continuous line of cars, solid for 1 ½ to 2 km going into and out of Annecy. We are back in Melbourne, Sydney or any other major city. But Annecy only has 50,000 people. Plus 2 million visitors.

After a bewildering number of ‘keep right’ and ‘keep left’ and ‘exit the motorway’ (which we had asked not to use) we are finally clear of traffic and we go back to our usual fare of small windy roads with quaint villages.

We are getting close to the Swiss border and some towns have the Swiss emblem on them, suggesting we are moving in and out of Switzerland. Our campsite is in France but Genera, in Switzerland, is only 10 km away.

By 7pm we are at our camp which is very green and grassy with few other visitors. Our plan is to stay the night, visit Geneva then decide whether we will stay another night or continue on.

But first things first. Swim time in the pool, an interesting structure built partly below and partly above ground and made by Zodiac. The pool ia about 10 metre long and looks just like a Zodiac semi ridged boat, but quite a bit bigger. Another difference is that the water is inside rather than outside. But the rounded, inflated sides are very safe and automatically exclude toddlers. A good idea.

After dinner, we have another swim about 11 pm before showers and to bed.

Sunday 1st July 2012

Sunday morning is rainy. Not heavy but different from what we have experienced to date. We must buy a bike cover as our bikes are showing some signs of rust after only one year.

There are a few chores to be done, including fitting another rack to the kitchenette (if that is not to grandiose a term. Ro suggests kitchinetteisimo) to increase available bench area. We now have 2 postage size areas for working on instead of one.

By 2 pm it is still quite wet so we decide to skip Geneva and continue on toward Belfort, our next stop, where weather looks better.

Two hours of driving later the weather is still not much better. We have gone up more steep mountain roads, some in first gear, and down the other side also in low gears, driven through more quaint villages and stopped here and there.

We continue intending to reach Belfort by 6.30pm . Along the way we come across a small road block with a sign in French we don’t understand. We are now in Switzerland and the villages with French names have Swiss emblems next to the name. As another vehicle has driven past the blockade, we do so too.

After 5 km we understand the sign. The next village is blocked completely for some festival. A road block person with no English explains in detail about the blockade…. but we don’t understand. The bit we do understand is that the blockade will be open a 6pm and we should have a coffee until then. That is 2 hours away so we decide to try to get around another way. That involves retracing our tracks and going up and down another mountain along tiny roads.

However, by the end of it all, we have saved 5 minutes, avoided more caffine and taken less than 2 years off the life of the van. And we will get to Belfort by 8.45pm, which is a bit late but if we cannot get into the camp at that time, we can always wild camp.

By 8.45 we are only a few km from our camp site. The last km is a dirt road and slightly muddy. Continuing along the track, following Thomasina’s instructions (we are astounded at the tracks she knows about) we end up at the gate to the camp site. It is closed and after a few moments we realise that either we have the wrong gate or it is not open now, something we encountered last year but later in the season. Better return to the main road and look for another entrance.

It is still quite light and reversing to a turning point is reasonably straight forward. Just keep on the track. Ro looks out the rear window and helps with direction…..too late. A rear tyre goes off the path and looses traction.

I try a few moves forward and back but cannot regain traction. I try digging a little and using our plastic chocks but all I succeed in doing is getting the rear wheel deeper.

Half an our later, having nearly cooked the clutch by the smell and having created clowds of blue smoke from the tyres skidding on the plastic ramp, we understand that we will be wild camping here, albeit on a 10 degree angle.

There is heaps of timber on the ground, but it is all slippery and rotten. In a last ditch effort for tonight, I decide to fell a tree to help us. Well not a full tree, but a limb of 80 mm diameter. Using out trusty battery powered drill and a serrated kitchen knife, I fell the mighty limb and try levering the tyre upward to get a chock further under the wheel. The limb is supple and does not break but bends to the ground without lifting the vehicle. If only I had a car jack, or to be more precise, a car jack which was not in a locker which is now so close to the ground as to be inaccessible!

Living in a camper on a 10 degree angle presents challenges. Standing upright is one. Stopping dishes sliding off the table is another and getting water into the drain hole in the shower is a third. It is not unlike life in a boat except that the 10 degrees does not alter as it does in a boat. Perhaps like living in a sinking boat, which may be an appropriate analogy.

Monday 2nd July 2012

We awake as crumpled heaps in the corner of the bed. It has been a less than comfortable night for sleeping.

After breakfast from the lower corner of the table, we circumnavigate the campsite to see if there is another entrance. The campsite is quite interesting as it has been built on the site of an old castle ruin. A deep wide ditch ditch, maybe once a moat, moat encircles it, with a 4 metre high wall to the bottom of the moat and another stone wall on the other side. At the entrance gate where a bridge provides access over the moat , a security camera has a red blinking light. But as they say, the light is on but no one is home. This is despite Ro tooting SOS on the horn numerous times and shaking the gate while calling “Au secours”…… help in French.

There is also evidence of concrete bunkers we presume are from the second world war. This is confirmed when we find a memorial to 25 resistance fighters who were killed by the Nazis. We understand the memorial to say “they died so we could be free”.

Some more digging and levering leads us to the belief we need a tow. As we prepare to look for a farmer, a farmer turns up!!! He speaks no English, but the angle of the van and the amount of removed dirt tells the story in any language. Tractor is the same in English and French.

So he disappears and in 15 minutes a very large tractor turns up. Ro has developed a special liking for tractors. The driver who is a younger man that the earlier one, drives toward the van with his hay forks lowered and it seems his means of correcting the situation may include impaling the van with the forks. Instead he reverses the tractor and gets a steel cable which I place round the rear axle.

In a few moments we are again on our way. We offer money which he refuses then offer an Australian flag which he accepts with a huge smile. We farewell with copious ‘Merci Beaucoup’s and continue on our way. It is 12 noon so we have not lost a lot of time. And the wood was a lovely spot to spend the morning.

Setting off for Colmar after being freed from the bog, we feel wonderful. There is nothing like adversity to make mundaneness seem special. We celebrate by stopping for morning tea in a village and not parked by a cemetery. Special in itself.

After more hills and dales we reach Belfort where we find fuel and a Lidl for some provisions. While Ro looks for things to eat, I inspect the hardware. Rather surprisingly there is a telescopic builder’s prop which is exactly what I was needing to get. Although internal renovations in camping cars don’t generally need builder’s props, it is useful to me because Ro has a fear of falling from the bunk above the cab. It is perfect for making an anti fall out barrier. What’s more it is only 2.89 euro!!! Ro says look again and in the time I have reinspected the price it has become 11.99 euro. Still a good price. The thing for 2.89 was a telescopic magnetic retrieval device which could also come in handy……… stop that.

Back to the sightseeing, the first visit of which is a village called Adincourt, 4 km SE of Belfort where there is a modern chapel which is supposed to be of architectural merit.

It is buried in amongst suburbia and a cursory glance suggests we have wasted our time. We walk around the outside and see on a plaque that indicates it was built in 1951. That alters the context somewhat as it would have been well before its time then. As we are leaving, a woman who has observed us photographing it says in French that the keys are available at a house nearby for us to see inside. We go to a house and are offered the keys by the charming occupants of the house.

The chapel inside seems well before its time. That is slightly difficult to assess given what we know now, but imagining ourselves back at that time we can understand how it would have been viewed. Internally there are vibrantl stained glass windows with a circular baptism room with wall to ceiling stained glass. The stained glass is very contemporary rather than those found in medieval churches.

Nearby is another chapel completed in 1955 by the famous architect Corbusier and which is also of architectural merit. After returning the key, we set off for that. It is 15 minutes drive away in a village called Ronchamp. On arrival, we visit the tourist bureau and are told it is a 20 minute walk away. We set out with waterproof clothing as it is drizzly. After a short distance, we see the start of a steepish climb and decide to drive. The reason we had not driven was that the arch under the rail bridge looked a bit narrow. But what in Europe isn’t? So we walk back to the van and drive instead. The van fits easily and the steepish hill proves to be first gear all the way. It would have been a tiring walk and 20 minutes seems optimistic.

The chapel on the mountain is shrouded in mist and some is precipitating as the odd drop of rain. A fairly recent building houses an entrance foyer where we are relieved of 16 euro. The site has had cathedrals on it for millennia. In the early 1900s a fire destroyed the original building which was rebuilt then destroyed again in the Second World War. The new structure was completed in 1955 and is an astounding design, again well before its time. It is a pilgrimage site for thousands of architects every year.

Externally it is a large white edifice of concrete with a sweeping concrete roof. Inside a gently sloping floor has one aisle of pews of heavy timber beams supported with solid concrete blocks. Two or three pulpits are cantilevered from the walls. There are two bays with alters. The description here cannot in any way convey the building itself which I loved but which Ro did not like very much. After looking through the chapel, we look at some other buildings built at the same time, including a small monastery then look at some carvings, all about 300mm by 200 mm, which are on exhibition. We call them Jesus friezes. They are intricately carved scenes of the life of Jesus and are remarkable. All carved from timber of different types, the artist has used the grain very effectively in the images. For example, a cross section of a timber with wavy grain depicts the sea with another timber’s straight grain depicting the sky in the same carving. Remarkable craftsmanship. The site closes at 7pm and we leave at that time.

As we drive back to Ronchamp, we stop at a coal mine pithead for coffee and a squiz. The pithead is housed in what looks like an old building but which has a lot of what looks like fairly new concrete. Rather confusing and not of great interest.

We are heading for Colmar and expect to reach our camp site by 9pm…. on a dirt road. Why do we get a feeling of déjà vu again? But this time we arrive without incident and the camp manageresse kindly admits us at 9pm.

Neither she nor her husband has no English and we struggle for a short time in French. I then ask if they speak German and they do. Pity I speak so little. However, between French, German and the odd English word, we can communicate. We will stay two nights, visiting Colmar tomorrow and maybe somewhere else next day.

Now for dinner, a nice shower (not timed!!) and bed.

Tuesday 3rd July 2012

Another overcast day is expected, but it is a pleasant temperature without rain. We have breakfast and do a few chores then set off for Colmar, about 20 km away.

In Colmar, we first visit MacDonald’s for some torturously slow wifi. They seem to have altered their wifi so we cannot just sit in the carpark anymore and the speed has been reduced. A couple of people are on Skype so we have two quick conversations. One to Pat and Dave, with whom we had coffee in Zurich last year, is very quick because we cannot hear them. The other, with Jacinta, is a bit longer. There is no privacy and we may have shouted a bit, but as it is in English, we feel some degree of privacy.

Continuing on to the old town, we find a parking place one km out and ride in by bike. A visit to an unsmiling tourist office girl supplies us with a map and a wave of the hand toward where we should begin our walk. Where do they find these people??

The Unter Linden Museum is our first port of call. There are many rooms of art, furniture, archaeological artefacts, armour, weapons, wine making presses and other eclectic objects. The religious paintings we find rather morbid and move on to other areas.

By 6pm we are ready to explore the rest of the old town. It is extensive and very well preserved. Houses from 14^th century onward are in abundance, all well cared for and well preserved. There are few signs of the modern world, apart from the people and some not so well hidden lighting. There are two magnificent churches, which never fail to amaze me.

By 8 pm we are ready to go back to our camp site. It is still full daylight and the ride back to the van is flat and obvious. We have brought Thomasina with the parking place marked in case we get lost but we don’t require her. But we do utilize her talents to get back to our camp.

Dinner, shower and bed again. Yet another day has slipped by. On Friday we will have been away for 3 weeks, but it does not seem that long.

Wednesday 4th July 2012

A warm night is followed by what promises to be a very pleasant day. The expected temperature is 26 degrees with some cloud and no rain. After breakfast, we decide to spend the day here as it is a lovely site with a 15 metre by 7 metre pool which is 24 degrees.

First we want to wash our towels. There is a washing machine of sorts available which consists of a tub with a plastic barrel which is driven by a small motor in the lid. First add the towels. Then add the water with soap. Then lift the drain pipe up so a small portion of the water we have just added remains in the tub rather than immediately draining out the hose as has just happened. Now add more water and soap and set the machine for 6 minutes. As the barrel is rotated back and forth we watch in fascination. This must be the simplest washing machine ever…… apart from hand turned ones. After washing draining and rinsing, we transfer the towels to a spinner which is a small plastic device on a sink which quite possibly doubles as a coffee machine later in the day.

Our chores for the day finished, we spend the rest of the day walking round the well kept 5 acre property, swimming and reading.

By 9.30 pm it is starting to get dark so we retire early with the intention of travelling to Strasbourg tomorrow. It is only 100 km away but we want to stop at various towns along the way so expect to get there by early evening.

Thursday 5th July 2012

Thursday is dry, slightly overcast and warm. After breakfast we go by the office to pay for our three night’s stay. We are given a placemat with the camp logo and we in return give an Australian flag, which elicits the same broad smile we have experienced before.

Our first stop is a wall paper museum which is part of a factory which is world renowned for wallpapers and wallpaper scenes. They still make the intricate scenes which stretch around three walls.

Although it is a factory, it is some factory! The building is called the Commanderie and it was built mid 1700s but was added to over 50 years. It is a very elegant building, U shaped with smaller buildings enclosing the front of the U. It has been used for numerous purposes including troop billets, a prison and a military hospital. It was purchased in 1802 by Jean Zuber who founded Jean Zuber and Co and has been making wall paper since then. Fortunately few structural alterations have been made

The building now houses the museum on one side, the factory on the other side and the Town Hall and municipal offices in the main section. As Ro takes some photos, a fountain obligingly starts to shoot water high into the air.

The museum has printing machinery over the period from 1802 to 1980s set up on the ground floor. The first floor shows wall papers over the same period. It is amazing how intricate some were. Wall papers from the 70s onward are also entertaining, including some from the 1990s which are quintessentially French in their design audacity (but not really their content). On the top floor are shown some scenes which cover three walls. Some are placed above wall paper panels similar to those in the great royal palaces and the effect is very good. A timber moulding enhances the three dimensional effect. The scenes are remarkable in their complexity and creativity.

After morning tea overlooking a small park, we continue on to Eguisheim, a very well preserved village from the 1300s.

This is the best preserved town we have seen. There are two outer rings of houses in an oval shape around the other houses , churches and communal buildings. Cobble stone roads are either original or remade as original. I suspect they are original as there are some which have been replaced by a red coloured asphalt material which are sympathetic but do not come near to the charm of the original. Walking along the curved roads, probably 2.5 metre wide, with houses of infilled timber, with their crooked and curved beams is like being back 100s of years.

There are two churches to visit. The first is much older and is attached to another building which is a private residence now and was probably the minister’s residence. The church has quite music playing inside which adds to the mood generated. It is in good condition with copious amounts of tiling and paintings. It is only small and has an unusual alter with a wide arch above.

This contrasts starkly with the other church which also has music playing but is much grander and has a flat ceiling which is unusual in churches of that period and It does not look like it has been damaged and rebuilt with a modern ceiling.

Later we are surprised to note that the village is not in the Lonely Planet guide. This must rate as one of their most significant oversights. We were just fortunate to have seen the brochure at our camp site.

By 5 pm we return to the van. As we walk back we notice a parking station into which we realise we should have deposited some money. Thinking back to Zurich last year, we approach with trepidation hoping not to see anything on the windscreen. But our luck is in and we have escaped a fine so we are ready to continue to Strasbourg. Or more particularly to our camp site 20 km from Strasbourg.

We arrive by 6pm in time to have a walk, pick up some emails and have a leisurely dinner. We will probably stay here for a few days as we have arranged to meet Adi in Offenberg on Monday to do something about the rear floor which is in poor condition.

During the night, there is continuous light rain. Our Strasbourg visit last year was wet. Hope it won’t be the same this year.

Friday 6th July 2012

Friday is also drizzly and promises to be all day. Once again we are seduced into a day of leisure. Feelings of guilt overwhelm us. This is starting to be more like a holiday than a sightseeing trip. We promise ourselves we will get back on track tomorrow.

Meanwhile, the drizzle diminishes allowing us to walk toward the town. Once again we see stone buildings which cry out to us to renovate. Maybe after the van. One such building is of two or three storeys and has long thin arched windows. We would love to see inside. It also has various out buildings which are in need of renovation. However a sign proclaims in French that the local architect has a planning permit in place to do the renovation. Missed out on that one! Maybe a good thing as a bucket load of money would be a necessary starting point.

Returning we relax for the rest of the day until 5pm when the day is quite dry and intermittently sunny. As our pain has diminished (baguettes actually. We didn’t get pain yesterday) we walk into the village to acquire some. Walking with a shoulder bag from which a long pain is sticking makes us feel very French.

Ro is quite susceptible to overheating, so the 2 or 3 km walk back to our camp site in the now full sun means a swim is called for. The pool is a comfortable temperature although we are the only ones in it. Rejuvenated we spend the next hour listening to Chopin’s nocturnes. However a buzz in one of the speakers makes it sound like someone thought castanets suit Chopin. We don’t agree. A good thing we missed the renovators dream. Our van still needs a bit more.

Saturday 7th July 2012

By 11 am we have had enough of this sitting around and decide to get back on the road. We will travel to Offenburg via Strasbourg hopefully with a boat trip on the canals.

It is a 30 minute drive with a few challenges on the motorway. Being in the correct lane at the correct time when getting near a big city is important. As we approach petit france, the old part of Strasburg, we enter parking as a point of interest into Tom Tom. As we arrive, the area seems familiar. It is because it is where we parked Adi’s little red car last year

Removing our bikes, we cycle along the canal to the point where we had seen tourist boats overflowing with passengers, Determining that one of the boats which looks a bit past its prime is in fact the ticket office, we purchase two tickets for 18 euro for a 1 hour 10 minute cruise along the rivers and canals of petit france and surrounding areas.

A slight problem is that we have paid for the maximum of two hours of parking so we need to go and feed the meter some more money. Riding back using Tom Tom to guide us, we come across a parking person booking cars in our area. Fortunately we have enough time for him not to be interested in us. But we move to another parking spot and buy another two hours (3 euro) which will cover our trip time and a bit of to-ing and fro-ing.

We return to the boat on our trusty bikes, lock them up and stand in the queue to board. The boat is open top and takes 140 passengers. It has commentaries in different languages which we can select from a channel selector. Our commentary is spoken by an Irishman with almost no intonation, unusual for the irish. Maybe when he recorded it he had had a bad day.

The trip is somewhat informative and the perspective from the water enjoyable. We pass through two locks which alter the boats level by 1.8 metre. The boat being open has its virtues but the downside is the unrelenting sun which is occasionally mitigated by the odd cloud. Had the day been entirely cloudless and five degrees hotter, it would have been very unpleasant.

After our trip, we cycle through the cobblestone streets and revisit Notre Dame, once again overawed by the craftsmanship and engineering .

It is getting on to 6pm and our intention had been to wild camp in Adi’s yard as we did last year. However the trip back to our camp site of the last two nights is only 30 minutes and that site is far more enjoyable than an industrial concrete yard. A further advantage is that we can return to Strasburg tomorrow and spend some more time in the alt stadt.

Arriving back at the camp site, we are both quite hot so a swim is very refreshing. Our provisions are getting low but there is just enough for a dinner of salmon steaks and vegetables. A bit more reading and off to bed.

Sunday 8th July 2012

Overnight there is a lot of rain which makes us glad we went to Strasbourg yesterday. However, as the morning progresses, the day clears up and it turns out to be perfect; pleasantly warm and clear.

We are travelling back to Strasbourg by 10.30am and find a lovely spot next to what may be the Rhine to stop for morning coffee. It is opposite a boat club which has about 20 boats moored perpendicular to the bank. The river is probably 40 metre wide. The boats remind us of our boat we had until recently. Cruising the rivers and canals here would have some advantages over Port Philip Bay, not the least of which would be calm waters. The view is very peaceful with lots of green trees including graceful willows.

Removing our bikes, we ride toward what I think is petit france. Some kilometres later, I bow to Tom Tom’s expertise and we get where we want to go. We have marked our parking spot and need to be careful not to flatten the battery as we will need her to return.

We again visit Notre Dame and spend some time enjoying the peacefulness. We could climb the tower but decide not to, instead cycling around the streets before deciding to return to the van for lunch .

Our return path is along canals which is very enjoyable. We are fortunate to see more of the canals than necessary until we again use Tom Tom for guidance. But it is a pleasure to get lost in this environment.

Eventually we end up back at the van, which is where I am writing this; gazing across to the boats, one of which we have watched messing about on the river. They went down stream and reappeared from upstream. The canals and rivers provide multiple paths to return to ones starting point.

At this point it is our intention to stay here until 10.30 pm when there is a light and water show at Notre Dame. The light bit we understand but the water bit has us a bit puzzled. After that we can go to Adi’s, about 30 km away and it is not locked so arrival time does not matter.

After lunch settles, we want to ride along the river a little. Riding downstream of what we discover is the Rhine we come across a music stage with a group playing bluesy/rock. We sit and listen for 10 or 15 minutes but they seem not to be going anywhere so we continue.

The number of white swans is astounding. We have never seen so many. They don’t seem as aggressive as many flocks we have seen but this may be because there are so many.

The weather is great for riding. Not too hot and slightly overcast, with a gusty breeze but without any rain. Riding further we come across converted barges moored as houses. Some which are moored outside look like they move periodically. What a life! Floating down the river until a city takes your fancy then staying until you want to move on. The barges are quite big so living accommodation could be quite spacious.

After about 10 or so km we turn round and ride back. Strasbourg is very flat and extremely bike friendly, with paths and crossings separated from pedestrians and cars.

We get back to the van by 7.30pm. We will eat dinner here then go to the light (and water?) show at Notre Dame.

As we have dinner, we watch a boat opposite on which two people are living. Ro notices that there are two flags flying….and one is the Australian flag!!! As it is late we have insufficient time to ride over there so we put our Australian flag in the window. However, our flag is so small that they would need to use binoculars, which coincidentally, we are using. There is the opportunity to call out “Ozzy Ozzy Ozzy Oi Oi Oi” but somehow that is not quite us. So the opportunity to converse with a fellow countryman or woman passes by. We think it was probably a woman as the French flag flew at the bow of the boat with the Oz flag languishing on the Port side, occasionally flying in the light breeze.

At 9.30pm we drive to our parking place of yesterday and walk to Notre Dame. By 10.15 we are among the expectant crowd and as 10.30 arrives a hush is heard (or not heard) followed by an “Ahhh” as the light show commences.

For 20 minutes, lights cast fascinating coloured splashes of light on the hugely ornate face of the cathedral in time to some piece of music we don’t recognise. At the end we walk along the narrow alleyways back to our van.

The drive to Offenburg takes 30 minutes along rather poorly lit roads. Finally we reach Ardi’s yard where we intend spending the night. To our surprise, the yard which was unlocked last year has a sliding gate which is locked this year.

But there is an area outside the property where we can stay and we do so and have a quiet and comfortable night.

Monday 9th July 2012

Monday morning we drive into the now open yard to a very warm welcome from Adi. We chat about what we need to do and how we each have been and how Adi’s daughter who has been a volunteer in Tanzania has been. Although we have not met her, we think she is marvellous doing that. As we discuss her exploits over the next few days our admiration only increases.

First thing is to visit Lidl for some provisions and for some work wear.I find a pair of shorts which will do but no tee shirt. But there is an old one in the van so that will do.

So onto the task. First is to remove the bicycle rack. Not particularly easy but it gets done. Now to remove the spare type. We discover that the device which lowers the spare is inaccessible due to the storage box fitted. Without the box, it can be lowered. But the bolt which releases it is frozen solid. Had we had a flat, there was no way we could have got to the spare. But we can correct that now.

Next remove the waste water tank and inspect the damage…….

Generally life has not caused me to think that what needs to be done is beyond me. So this is a new experience. The rot is extensive. Had we not done something, it is likely that one day we would have climbed on the steps and the rear of the van would have fallen off.

Adi spends some time with me in removing rotten plywood and seeing what support timbers are rotten. The outer timbers seem usable and the inner two. Four fall apart readily. Not that we haven’t seen similar rotten timber. Roman ruins are full of the stuff.

Adi is a very competent and positive person. However I hear him mutter that maybe it is not repairable. We both keep removing damaged timber and determining the best way to fix it. Adi says that he has a nephew who is a carpenter and is employed building motorhomes. That could be of some use. After a phone call Miguel is organised to visit us in one hour to add his tuppence worth. Hopefully his advise will be threepence worth.

When he arrives, I offer him a box of matches but he thinks that is premature…….or he thought I was joking. We determine that the fridge and kitchen need to be removed but the bathroom can remain. As it happens, most water damage is below the fridge rather than the bathroom. Melting ice left to run into the timber over the years has taken its toll.

With Miguel’s help, the items are soon removed. Although I had hoped that he would have knowledge of how these things are held together it seems that each is different. But brute force judiciously applied to rotting timber can dismantle anything.

There is still a lot of removal, cleaning and cutting to be done but Adi suggests we go to sort out some new materials. If he is still thinking that the damage is irrepairable, he is now keeping it to himself.

We go to two hardware stores. These stores are like Bunnings but double the size. The range of goods is astounding and the prices low compared with Australian prices. We find what seem to be the best prices for the bearers and ply we need.

Time for lunch. Last year we had lunch with Adi on two occasions in a company sponsored cafeteria which has a choice of three hot meals and a choice of three or four sweets. A main meal, a drink and a desert costs 7 euro or $9.10. Adi has lunch with his brother two or three times a week which makes for a close family relationship. In discussing our plight, he suggests a timber supplier near the workshop which has good prices. On checking there as we return to the workshop, we discover they have the board we need but also some preservative treated wood just the right size for the support beams.

By the end of the day things are looking better. The method is clearer and the extent of the damage is known. But it is late and we are both tired.

We are staying in the van and the inside is, shall we say, dishevelled. That is, that which is not open to the elements. Despite removal of the floor from below the shower, a bit of temporary flooring and the shower is usable. The availability of a hot shower, albeit with low flow rate and limited water available, makes the van tolerable to live in.

We sleep soundly….that is , after the other occupants of the complex finish revving motors and testing mini bikes which is complete by midnight.

Tuesday 10th July 2012

I am up at 6pm getting stuck into cleaning back the rot and cutting the new timber supports.

As Adi fixes small inexpensive cars for resale, he loans us one for trips to the hardware. However, the sheet of 2400 x 1700 ply will not fit in the car. So he tows a trailer to the timber yard to get the sheet. He is, without doubt, one in a million and we were so very fortunate to find him last year. Perhaps he was less fortunate.

After purchasing steel brackets, a box of bolts, waterproofing paint and assorted other components, I set to rebuilding. While I do that, Ro is cleaning and brushing with a bit of reading between.

The day disappears, including lunch again with Adi and his brother, until about 8 pm when we want to get some dinner.

We drive into Offenburg, 5 minutes away, and find a restaurant where we have a lovely dinner of rump steak, a little too rare, apple strudel and coffee, served by an attentive and helpful waitress.

Then back to the van for a quieter sleep as the activity ceased much earlier.

Wednesday 11th July 2012

Up again at 6 to continue the work. Things are falling into place now, although proceeding a bit slowly. We pick up Scot on Sunday morning and all must be finished well before that. Adi does not work Saturday and we do not wish to inconvenience him.

By Wednesday night, the framework is mostly in place and the ply has been marked out. I was hoping to be putting the kitchen back in today but that will not happen. Maybe tomorrow.

The van has electric stairs at the rear which have been modified from time to time by people not retracting them when moving off. Thus they are rather bent, rusty and the electrics don’t work. The reason for repairing the floor was that the steps tilted significantly when stepped on because of the poor floor. However now is the chance to fix the steps too. The electrics are determined quickly to work so a bit of mechanical repair and paint and they should be good as new…..nearly.

Some panel beating, welding and painting later they are stable and should be operational when installed.

So the day closes at 9 pm with a light meal of bits and pieces followed by a rejuvenating and cleansing shower and an even more rejuvenating sleep.

Thursday 12th July 2012

Another day of repairs but no outside lunch today. We are getting anxious, especially because today it is raining which makes work slower. Although it clears up to a fine day, by the end of the day, the inside floor is down and the styrene foam insulation is in place on the right side of the van but the left is still incomplete and the kitchen is not installed. Time is ticking away.

Friday 13th July 2012

Again it is wet and Adi has no work for the morning so suggests we take the van into the workshop and place it on the hoist. By 1 pm we have the floor complete, the steps in place, the bumpers back on, the waste tanks in place and the bike rack on.

To celebrate we go to lunch. On our return, we work on the kitchen but discover there is a bit of wood missing. Looking high and low, we cannot find it. We decide it must be in the workshop. But, although Adi lives within 5 minutes, we don’t know his address. Another group in the complex are having a barbeque so we ask if they have his address. Yes, but not the street number. We check the telephone book and find the number. The people ask us to join them for a steak and drink after we go to Adi, whom we cannot raise on the telephone.

When we knock on the door, we are invited in by Adi’s wife whom we have not met as yet. She is welcoming and speaks quite reasonable English. Between the four of us, we have a conversation, somewhat laboured due to our minimal German and their lack of familiarity with English, superior though it is to our German. Adi readily returns to the workshop but we cannot find the wood in question.

Perhaps tomorrow we will find it. As it is late, I go to the revellers and excuse ourselves from their generous invitation as we are very tired.

Tomorrow we must be ready to leave for Russelsheim where we pick up Scot Sunday.

Saturday 14th July 2012

Maybe the relief of seeing the end in sight allows us to sleep to 8am. However there is rain again. Bad, as we have decided we must put sealant around the cable and pipe through holess as there is a smell of diesel. Also we need to seal the fridge for efficiency and lack of fumes.

We must leave by 4 pm however by the time we return from OBI with an armful of hardware, it is close to lunch time. But by 4 pm everything is ready for us to go, albeit without some sealant around the kitchen bench which we will do soon.

Somehow another two or three hours fall into the black hole that is repair work so we are actually on the road by 6.30. We want to travel to Russelsheim for the night as we pick up Scot from there at 10am.

The two hour trip takes a bit longer….partially because Thomasina mentions casually that there is a 150 minute delay on the motorway. I think that would warrant a bit of shouting and screaming but Thomasina is a cool customer and recommends another route which is only 7 minutes longer than the normal motorway trip and is the way we usually choose to travel anyway, using minor roads.

By 9.30 we are near where we were to camp but we think it too late to check in. Instead we stop at a parking bay by the motorway which has some trees shielding the motorway noise and some trucks and cars for company.

Sunday 15th July 2012

After a quite night, apart from the trucks leaving, cars wizzing by and jets above on a flight path to Frankfurt, we wake to a cool morning and have breakfast.

As we are meeting Scot at 10am we are in no great hurry. We will arrive by 9 anyway. But when we do, there is Scot sitting on a rock and he has been there for one hour.

Russelsheim has a fortress, the private residence of Mr Opel and a lovely park in which there is a mausoleum for Mr Opel. We spend an hour looking at each before setting off for Mainz. One highlight is an a Capella group singing in a rotunda and dressed in traditional costumes.

Scot has arranged to meet with David, a German friend of 16 years who is a teacher of English and French. We are to meet him in Mainz, about 10 km away. Scot is fighting tiredness from his flight but wants to stay awake until local bed time. We have some coffee and biscuits in the van and leave Russelsheim about 12 pm.

Mainz is quite a large city. We have set Thomasina to guide us to the Hauptbahnhoff, the main railway station, and she leads us through the intricacies of the road system, arriving in a small street with a bus blocking the way. Rather than toot the bus, we assume it will move soon so turn off the engine to wait. Another bus pulls up along side. The driver indicates that we should not be there. I indicate that I cannot get past the bus and we both shrug our shoulders. But the presence of the new bus seems to cause the stationary bus to move so we are on our way again. Just us and 40 busses.

We expect David to arrive at 1.20 pm but a text tells us he will arrive at 2.40 which we later find was due to a change of train in Bonn which adds 1 hour to his trip.

Parking the van is never easy. Where we stop is parking by meter even on Sunday and only allows a maximum of 2 hours. Instead we drive up a road and find a spot between two trees just made for us. The nice thing about trees is that they take a long time to move too close, unlike spots with cars either side. In Paris last year we saw cars parked with bumpers touching bumpers of cars back and front. Getting out must have involved a lot of co-operation

Walking back to the station, we explore some of the streets then return to the station to find David.

We visit three churches, each different and all very impressive. The first was built in 1897, destroyed in 1945 and rebuilt in 1951. It is quite different from others we have seen; quite open, airy and contemporary. The second is unimpressive outside but stunning inside, with ornate carved icons and religious artefacts all heavily gilded. The final one is huge and hugely impressive outside but dingy and dark inside. All give a sense of peacefulness.

Next was a walk down to the river and, lo and behold, there is a beer festival in full swing… or is that full swig. Scot and David’s eyes light up and they sample some of the wares. Ro and I are not so enamoured of the wares but instead have some rolls purporting to be steak or ham or something similar.

By 6 pm we are ready to return to our wohnmobile, farewelling David at the train station on the way. We have chosen well as there are no surprises on the windscreen.

We also farewell Mainz and travel to our overnight camp site. We arrive by 8.30pm and are not too late to be admitted. It is a large site with a large lake for swimming. But the weather is not at all encouraging of swimming and we will leave fairly early we hope.

Scot is more than ready to sleep. Inspiring him to go to the shower block is not very easy as he seems to be falling asleep between words, having made the mistake of lying down on the bed above the cab. However he does shower, returns to the van and is asleep in 30 seconds.

Monday 16th July 2012

Today we want to visit Fulda and a couple of other towns before heading east. A bit of a sleepin is justifiable so it is 10 before we are on the road. Normally it is 10 before we are on the road anyway but on some of those occasions it is not justifiable. But we don’t have to be anywhere by any time so we can suit ourselves.

While people are getting organised, I fit a new battery and finally correct an intermittent fault in the step control switch. It has been rather frustrating that when the box containing the switch is unscrewed from the wall, the steps work but as soon as it is replaced they don’t work. This happens 5 or 10 times until I discover a loose terminal or two. Now we have solid steps and reliable electric operation. Surely happiness cannot be greater than this.

On the way to Fulda we stop at a small village bakery and buy some delicious apple and blueberry danishes, if that is not a mixed something or other, and have coffee parked by the side of a quaint little village street.

Continuing on we get to Fulda about 3 pm and find a motorhome and bus parking area. Walking from there we reach a magnificent property which was the weekender of some geezer who was not short of a bob. The gardens are highly symmetrical and magnificent. We spent half an hour walking around them before returning to the van via the Alt Stadt and via a cathedral which, without wishing to be repetitive, was superlative in its ornate workmanship.

Continuing on we look for a camp site. Unfortunately our maps are a year or two old so Thomasina gets tongue tied in the extreme causing us to do two loops of de je vu until we finally find the camp site. It, naturally, is up a steep, narrow and winding road through a dark forest.

The manageresse is a plump happy and welcoming German who directs us to a site which is adequate but not much more. However our stay is made special by the meal we have there. The menu lists 50 pork schnitzels, 50 chicken schnitzels and numerous other main courses. The huge number is probably designed to create a healthy appetite after reading the menu.

The meal is very nice and of a size which precluded desserts. It was also inexpensive, as is everything in Europe. By 10 pm we are ready for bed.

Now with three people in the van, organisation is paramount. As Scot is still tired, he is delegated to the bed above the cab. With the extra floor space now available, Ro and I can make up two beds from the lounge and the dining table. So to sleep.

Tuesday 17th July 2012

A reversal of last night’s procedure renders the van functional. We have breakfast, fill the water and wind our way back down the mountain.

Scot is interested in visiting Point Alpha which is an observation point which has been preserved from the time of the cold war and the separation of east and west Germany.

During our trip there, we take the opportunity to have coffee by a field where we are making a U turn to correct a misunderstanding of Thomasina’s directions. As we have coffee, Thomasina periodically interrupts with comments such as “Make a U turn when possible and correct your last idiotic mistake”. In a Haal like response we turn her off as she cries “Dave, don’t do this”.

By 11.30 we are at Point Alpha. The border crossing has been preserved as a tourist attraction, for want of a better word, and a memorial. There are remnants of the first border fence, a single barb wire fence, the later double barb wire fence and the full monty, a 3 metre expanded mesh fence with a trench and concrete wall, guard dogs and trip wire activated anti personnel devices. Not nice stuff but historically interesting. There was also an American observation tower. The nearly 1400 km of border also had a concrete road which is now a bicycle path…… a bumpy bicycle path. The one positive is that the 500 metre exclusion zone has now become an environmental green corridor

Scot visits the museums and returns by 2 pm just as it starts to rain. The last few days have been quite cool with some rain but this is quite serious rain. As we drive toward Eisenach, we pass Geisa which was one of the closest towns to the border on the east and Tann, the equivalent in the west. There are minor differences evident and a closer observation would no doubt reveal more due to the different regimes under which they existed.

Driving through the east is interesting. We understand the east was quite dilapidated prior to unification but the difference is less apparent now. However differences in the building construction are evident.

We arrive at Eisenach and drive to the castle which we want to see. It is closed but we hope we may be able to stay in the carpark as there are no camp sites closer than 30 km. As we are deciding whether we will stay there, we see a sign to a motor home overnight park which is 7 km away. That will do us.

It is actually attached to a motor home secondhand dealer and parts shop and consists of 6 parking spots with some water and a dump point. Not much different from others we have stayed in but smaller. By 9 pm the 8 or 9 places are taken.

We have dinner in the van, shower and sleep well.

Wednesday 18th July 2012

The morning is overcast but dry. The weather is certainly cooler which suits Ro but disappoints Scot who has just left cold Melbourne and disappoints me as I always like hot weather.

Fortuitously, the shop attached to the parking place has a fitting for the toilet which I had had trouble getting last year. I had also tried contacting a company in Offenburg earlier this year but had no success so it is an unexpected surprise to find the part here. What’s more, it is very inexpensive.

After leaving we have a trip to OBI to change a bike cover which is faulty and buy a few more bits and pieces. Ro talks me out of a battery jig saw, which is a severe disappointment. But one learns to roll with the punches when travelling. Next port of call is Lidl for some provisions then up to the Wartburg castle high on a nearby hill.

The castle was built in the middle ages and was refurbished in the 19^th century. After walking up a steep path, climbing many steps and feeling like we have really used our muscles, we finally reach the top and are rewarded with a panoramic view of the surrounding countryside.

There is a drawbridge with the operating mechanism in tact, although from what period we don’t know. It is heavily rusted and appears hundreds of years old at least. A busker is playing guitar (Bach minuette 3) in the tunnel leading to the castle courtyard. The area looks very authentic and a tower with an external timber staircase captures our attention. Above the staircase is a steep cantilevered roof which follows the stairs and quite is different from anything else we have seen. Once again it looks as though it is straight from medieval times.

There is quite a lot of scaffolding in various places as a lot of renovation is still being undertaken. One area which looks like there is no access is in fact the entrance to the tower we have been looking at. There is a turnstyle which allows access for 50 cents. We observe people putting coins into the turnstyle but the turnstyle still bars access. However as people exit through the turnstyle, the technique is to put in the con, then half rotate the turnstyle outward and squeeze by. That is what we do. This is quite convenient because we have no coins!

The climb up the steps affords an even better view of the surrounding countryside. We are fascinated to observe from above birds hovering in the valley because of the wind strength.

Leaving Eisenach about 2 pm we drive into the country for lunch of rolls we purchased this morning. Arriving at Weimar about 4.30, we follow signs to the “Welcome Centre” which sounds like a Soviet euphemism for a work camp but is actually the term for a tourist office.

The signs stop without actually showing us our target. I speak with a local using my limited German and she takes me to “The Atrium”, a modern shopping complex which could be in any country. Hidden on the second floor is the Welcome Centre staffed by a woman who probably was the welcoming officer for one of the aforementioned work camps. She did not speak much English and did not obviously welcome tourist questions.

We are directed to a park in which we can stay the night for 4 euro. My questions about the availability of wifi meets with a blank stare. But we can get internet access at Roxanne’s internet café down by the Market Place.

First to set up for the night. We stop next to another motorhome and to our great pleasure there is a boxing kangaroo on it. That can only mean one thing! ….. we hope. But our hopes are elevated when an Australian voice says something to the effect “I think we have some fellow Australians”.

Ro is overjoyed as she feels the language barrier acutely. Clark and Ellen are from Sydney and have been travelling since Christmas. They intend to continue to next Christmas. After a chat, we excuse ourselves to try to find some internet access. They suggest we come for a drink when we get back.

Scot and I ride into town, about 2 km away, and ask directions to Roxanne’s, which turns out to be a grotty, smoke filled little bar with three computers equipped with slow internet access. While Scot reads some emails, I investigate obtaining a SIM from a local company.

Returning to the van, we have drinks with Clark and Ellen and chat with them for 2 hours, discussing touring adventures and misadventures, including some hair raising stories of crumbling roads in the Atlas mountains in Morocco. We see their Moroccan cliff story with a ‘too steep to continue” story and raise one “pulled out of a bog by a French tractor” story.

By the time we get back to our wohnmobile after an enjoyable evening of frivolity it is 10 pm which is a bit late for dinner. We have purchased some chicken nuggets so we have those with salad and we are in bed by 12 am.

Thursday 19th July 2012

Our plan for today is to look around Weimar then head toward Berlin by 4pm.

After breakfast Scot goes for a swim in a large rather chilly outdoor pool. Ro and I ride to Vodafone to find about buying a German USB internet dongle. For 55 euro we purchase a modem and 25 euro of topup which will give us 50 x 15 minute sessions, if we understand the package correctly. Returning we spend some time getting the dongle working before we leave the area where the shop is. Clark had mentioned that in Spain, one Vodafone shop was not interested in a problem with a product purchased from another Vodafone shop so we want to avoid such problems.

Finally we walk into the town and enjoy the alt stadt buildings and walking through a lovely garden where Goethe had spend some time.

By 4.30 we are on the road again, travelling our usual narrow roads. Along the way we stop at a Real store which sells everything from white goods to clothing, hardware and groceries. I spend 15 minutes combing the store to find Ro as we become separated.

Back on the road again, Scot reads a brochure which says there are shoes on special today and he needs a new pair of shoes. As it is too difficult to return to the store we have left, we reset Thomasina for another Real store in a town 10 Km away.

On arrival, we park on a handy footpath, the German way, and Scot visits a rather grotty and smaller Real store in Jena. There are no shoes available here. However, while he is away we find a camp site only a few km away on Tom Tom so, as it is 6.30pm we decide to stay there.

It is a popular site with few facilities but all we need. In particular, our waste water needs emptying, as does the toilet and we are nearly empty of water. With three on board, the vans resources in the above areas only last a few days.

Ro and I go for a walk along a river and return just as it starts to rain.

Dinner of salmon and a lovely hot, untimed shower and we get to bed by 10. Maybe tomorrow we will leave early.

Friday 20th July 2012

We don’t. But the upside is that Ro does a heap of washing which was overdue and we get on the road by 10am.

Once again we are travelling through small villages and along picturesque roads, although now through less wooded areas. On our way to Berlin, we stop for morning tea just off the road near a field of wheat. Some hours later we stop by the road for lunch of rolls.

By 2.30 we have arrived at Wittenberg. A parking place is readily found and we walk to the alt stadt. Our first church is a Lutheran (protestant) church which was substantially refurbished in the 19^th century. It is very light inside and notes tell us what modifications had been made. These included internal buttresses to adequately support the ornate vaulted ceiling which is very open rather than compartmentalised between the columns as is usually the case.

Walking further down the cobbled stone roads, we visit the building where Martin Luther spent a lot of his time. By the time we return to the van, it is 6.30pm and we are tired and drive to our overnight campsite.

Our campsite is a former Soviet military camp which has been a campsite for 8 years. It also has a marina by the river. A lot of money has been spent at some time but obviously the return has not been adequate.

There is a semi circular building which was protection for the bridge in centuries past which houses an underutilised hotel with an underutilised restaurant where we eat. The meal is quite reasonable in content and very reasonable in price.

After dinner we walk along the river down to the marina. There is an old crane for lifting boats into the river which was made in east Germany and is interesting to climb over. Various other bits of hardware which look like ex military bridge making bits are stacked next to some underground bunker which is locked. All very interesting.

The shower block which is well appointed has showers which have such high pressure they hurt. But they are hot and, although fitted with timers, are easy to keep continuously running.

Saturday 21st July 2012

Finally a bit of sun! It has been overcast since Scot arrived and we are all a bit sick of it. If we had wanted overcast, we would have stayed in Melbourne for the winter.

After rearranging the van for day use, we hear the bread delivery. It is a slight bump on our steps. The 8 brotchen are warm from the oven and will be enjoyed throughout the day and hopefully to tomorrow morning.

At this camp site electricity is provided by kilowatt hour rather than the flat fee charged at most camps. We alert the office that we want to leave and are promised that the meter will be read in 5 minutes. Last night’s 5 minute connection took half an hour so Ro goes for a walk. She returns to tell us that the crane we were interested in last night is removing a boat from the river so we hot foot it down to watch. It is not unlike watching tortoises racing but it keeps us occupied until the meter is read. We know it has been read because the extension lead has been released from the locked power box.

By the time we are on the road, we want to stop for coffee. However, such is our discipline that we buy some things at the bakery and drive for a further 20 minutes before finding a stopping point. Our trip to Potsdam is only 1 ½ hours so we don’t need to travel much anyway. Furthermore Berlin, our destination for today, is within 10 km of Potsdam.

At Potsdam we want to see Sans Souci, the German equivalent of Versaille, When we reach Potsdam, we decide to have lunch before our exploration of the palace area. Stopping by the Havel river we eat a roll or two from our breakfast delivery and observe with mirth a bus which blocks the way of a number of parked cars. The driver, sporting a rather fetching Frier Tuck hairdo which we see him combing in the buses windscreen, is indignant that mere car drivers should expect him to move his bus. The indignation of one female driver is demonstrated as she goes forward and reverse probably 15 times in order to avoid having to go down the road to do a U turn. Much traffic chaos is created in the process but we enjoy the spectacle. There is the odd toot which is the closest thing we have seen to road rage in Europe.

Driving up to Sans Souci we park in the car park with the other Big Boys. If we stay 4 hours we will pay 10 euro. What we don’t notice is that after 7pm there is a further 10 euro charge until 8 am. Shame we did not see that as it turns out. We arrive at 3pm thinking we have until 7pm to return but when we return at 7.07 we have to pay 20 euro. Bugger!

The Sans Souci park is immense. Shonbrun last year seemed big but that was a Sans Souci outhouse. We start with The Orangerie, of which many palaces seem to have one, It was for storing plants in the winter and is a large building itself. It has views over three ornate gardens. Next onto Sans Souci which is built above 8 or 10 large concave terraced areas, each about three metres above the lower one and joined by sweeping stairs. On each terrace wall are alcoves with windows which can be closed during winter to protect the fig trees within. At the bottom is a formal garden with a large fountain. San Souci at the top is not such an immense building and was used as a summer stay over for guests. Once again the number of man hours to create these remarkable areas is immense.

We have already walked quite a few kilometres and it is getting on to 6 when all the buildings close. However we see the New Palace in the distance, probably 1.5 km away. We may not return so we will walk there now.

As we approach, the New Palace, the mammoth size becomes evident. It must be 350 metre long by 100 metre with 3 towering storeys, with huge numbers of statues and ornaments on the external walls. And this is just the back! It puts your largish 50 square Oz house into perspective. In front of the palace is another large building which has a large structure of temporary seating for some event which Scot reads is some international equestrian event. What the building’s usual use is or was we don’t find out.

A 2 or 3 km walk returns us to the van where we pay our 20 euro parking fee. Expensive parling.

Scot has chosen a camping place by the lake I Berlin. It is a 30 minute drive and we are pleased to arrive…… to a closed camp site. It closed at 8 and we arrive at 8.15. Seems to be the story for the day; However the road is appropriate for free camping so we do that. If anyone asks, we will say we were too late to get into the camping area. But no one does.

With our new battery and our water tank full and waste tanks empty, we can stop where ever we please.

Sunday 22nd July 2012

Today we decide to buy some transport tickets for moving around Berlin. We drive to a parking place which is free on Sundays until 9am Monday morning then walk to the train station.

After some indecision on which ticket to get, we buy a three day pass which allows unlimited travel on bus, train or tram. Our first train ride is to Bahnhof Zoo station, about 15 minutes away where we visit the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial church which was a magnificent building before being mostly destroyed in WW2. It has been replaced by a modern cathedral and tower. The new cathedral has 10,000 glass panels which give a subdued blue light within the church. The destroyed memorial is being stabilised but will not be rebuilt. I feel a great sense of sadness, as I have before, at the wastefulness of war.

From here we get a bus to the Brandenburg Gate where there is a large square, called the Parisier Platz with large numbers of people, including buskers, beggars and souvenirs sellers. From there another bus to Alexander Platz where we have lunch and visit a church or two.

Scot is interested in going up the television tower which has an observation deck 204 metre above the ground. It is just on the east side of Berlin and was built in the early 60s by the GDR in part to show off to the West. It is still the second tallest structure in Europe after the one in Moscow.

However there is a 1 ½ hour wait so we buy tickets at 3.30 and go off to look around until 5pm when we will be admitted. We can have a text automatically sent to Scot’s phone for our exact admission time but if we have to wait a while at 5 that will not be such a problem.

We walk across to the museum island which is formed by the river parting similarly to Paris’s Isle de la City but it seems quite a bit bigger. The amount of open areas and greenery throughout Berlin gives it a feeling similar to Melbourne. However the open areas are bigger and more numerous. Later we see the city limits from the tower and as the population is similar to Melbourne’s, we assume the population density is much higher.

At 10 to 5 we are back at the tower. Ro wants to visit the ladies. There is quite a queue but we have some time…. or so we think. As Ro disappears into the ladies, Scot sees screen which suggests our ticket number has already been admitted.

I call through the door to Ro, somewhat startling a german lady exiting. We move to the entry area and I cross a barrier or two to find out what we can do. All is OK. I get the impression that the system does not quite work as it should so the numbering of tickets is only an indicator.

We queue for another 10 minutes before reaching two queues for the lift which are random in selection as one seems to be a VIP queue randomly populated with non VIP ticket holders. We could have purchased a VIP ticket for 7 euro extra but the benefits of such tickets was not explained. We guess that such tickets avoid waiting. Unless you stand in that queue anyway. A bit like Croatian Air conditioning last year. Getting into the high speed lift which whisks us up the 200 metre in 40 seconds at 6 m/sec.

The day is quite clear and we can see 30 or 40 km. It gives us a good view of Berlin’s layout. It is interesting to see the differences between the capitalistic growth in the west and the communistic growth in the east. The east is very rectilinear and ordered.

After an hour or so we decide to have dinner in the revolving restaurant one floor above. It rotates once in 30 minutes. Our table is one back from the window as window seats are booked until 8 pm. The view is still good and the food we order is reasonably priced and very tasty.

Leaving by 8.45pm we walk to the station and take a train back to Spandau where we have left the van.

As it is now 9.30 we expect that camp sites will be full. As are our waste tanks. That makes wild camping difficult. The toilet holding tank is completely full and the grey water is too. We can dump the grey water but dumping the toilet is more of a problem.

The camp site we drive to is 20 minutes away and is closed for the night by the time we arrive. An open restaurant provides us no help as the occupants tell us the camp is locked until 8 am. We instead are able to wild camp by a lake. The grey water somehow leaks out but the toilet remains full….as do we.

Monday 23rd July 2012

Next morning a helpful resident says we may be fined by the council if they see us there so we move….to an illegal parking spot it turns out.

The lake is cool but not really cold so both Scot and Ro go for a swim. I am more selective about how I get my masochistic pleasure so refrain.

Another helpful resident points out we are illegally parked so we move on. First stop id Lidl where Scot investigates some shoes they have on sale but rejects them as poor quality. But we do have a delightful breakfast in the car park.

Our next stop is a camp site on the other side of town to which we have been recommended. It is about 50 minutes away. On arrival, it turns out to be an ex gas works. The parking bays are just OK given we will be away all day. But it is good to allow the van to uncross its legs by emptying the holding tanks and refillng the water.

We have lunch then walk to the station about 5 minutes away. We just miss the train we needed so take the next one, about 10 minutes later. First sight is the Soviet memorial. Of 55 millon people who died as a result of WW2, 25 million were Russian. Figures like these roll off the tongue, but a moments reflection reinforces the suffering and futility that war brings to so many for the glorification of so few.

On Saturday when we saw Sanssouci, I thought that gardens on such a huge scale were a thing of the past. Yet the size of these memorial gardens seem to contradict that belief. They were built in the late 1940s and refurbished in the 1990s and have been well maintained since. The focus is a huge statue in bronze of a soldier holding a child and trampling a swastika, symbolizing the victory of the Soviets over the Nazis. It is probably 15 metre high and sits on a huge pedestal on top of a hill with steps leading to it. The statue faces a garden area which is 300 or 400 metres long by 200 wide with 8 large stone monuments either side. At the opposite end is another statue with two huge curved stone edifices pointing toward each other. This is only one part of the monument which extends well beyond the garden described above. The whole monument is remarkable in its size and grandeur.

From here we return to the train and go to look at the monument to the Berlin Wall. This involves a tram ride which thunders down narrow streets with cars either side travelling at breakneck speeds. Remind me never to pull out in front of a Berlin tram. Scot had wondered where all the hoons were in Berlin and the answer it seems is “Driving Trams”. And most seem to be women.

Parts of the wall have been preserved as part of history. One section has a concrete watch tower preserved and the No Go zone between the two concrete walls. There is a memorial to 140 people who died because of the wall, including photos.

By 6.30 we are a bit footsore so get on a train to return to our camp site. When we get off the train, we want to find a spot to eat to save Ro any cooking in the van. There is a hotel on a corner so we sit at a table in the warm evening late sun and have some beer and local fare.

The walk back to the camp site is 5 minutes walk and we are pleased to get back. The day has been warm but the evening is cooling off so the van is a comfortable temperature.

We will try to be in bed before 11, which we have not succeeded in doing recently.

Tuesday 24th July 2012

Up by 7.30am. Maybe we will get going earlier today. After breakfast, we are on the train by 10am. Some sort of record for us.

Our 72 hour pass is valid until Wednesday lunch time so today we are doing a Green Berlin tour on the public transport system. First is a train ride to an interchange where two lines cross at right angles, one above the other. We change trains and head toward Peacock Island, a world heritage site in Wannsee, a large freshwater lake. While waiting for the number 218 bus which goes through Grunerwald, we have coffee and a Danish or two. Returning to the bus stop, we just see our bus in the distance…..going, not coming. The next bus is 1 hour so we try another tack and get a bus to a stop.

The number 218 leaves from there in 40 minutes so we fill in time by walking to a War Cemetery. This Berlin trip is turning out to be a barrel of laughs. Instead of visiting the War Cemetery we end up in a Jewish cemetery. We wonder when this was established. Presumably after the war as most headstones we see are post 1950, although we do see one headstone for some people who perished in Auschwitz.

We are back at the bus stop in plenty of time to see the bus arrive rather than leave. It is a double decker bus and the trip through the wald is quite a slow one as the speed limit is 30 kph. It is very picturesque and remarkable being so close to such a big city.

At the terminus, we leave the bus and get a punt the 100 metre across water to the island for 3 euro return each. While walking around the island we come across various buildings built by various kings. None is really big and all are in just acceptable repair, but not accessible to the public.

Lunch is available in a clearing and we enjoy the quiet surroundings for 45 minutes over a ubiquitous beer. I have had more beer in Berlin than I have had in the last two years. Which is not a lot anyway. Back to the punt via a small schloss which looks interesting but is not accessible either.

The days recently have been hot so we decide to look for a swimming spot by the lake. Selecting the stop at which we wish to alight, we leave our seats and make our way to the stairs. However the driver does not wait so we miss our stop.

Hopping off at the next stop, we walk by a circuitous route to the lake but are confronted with a ferry terminal and no swimming areas. Returning to the bus stop, we instead get on the train and get off at a station Scot believes may be near the lake. A short two km walk and we are at a swimming spot.

The water is OK for swimming but not pristine. Also the gradient is very gradual so we have to walk 50 metre to get to waist deep water. It is very nice to cool off. After 40 minutes or so we walk to a bus station which takes us to the train station.

Our intention is to eat out. Alighting the ring train loop near the city, we walk through a rather bleak concrete jungle in search of an eating place. An Italian restaurant does not look appealing and there is little else. Abandoning the idea of eating in this area we carefully inspect the tram route map and take a tram which will bring us back to Kopernik, our camp site……… we hope.

We have chosen well and end up in Kopernik down by the river where we find a little bier garten where we get a meal which is quite tasty and ridiculously cheap and washed down with some beer and water in Ro’s case.

By 9.30 we are ready to walk the two km home. Another late night by the time we get to bed.

Wednesday 25th July 2012

Our last morning of transport sees us with different sights we want to see. Scot wants to see the DDR museum and we want to see the Charlottenburg Palace. This means Ro and I need to work the system ourselves, Scot having been the guide over the past few days.

Take the S3 to OstKreuz then the ring anticlockwise to Westend. What could be easier? Piece of cake.

Having stopped for coffee and cake near the palace, we are in a ubiquitous queue by 11.15. Standing in the hot sun is not Ro’s idea of bliss so I stay in thr queue while she seeks some shade.

Tickets in hand we go to the entry. I have a backpack which I must leave in a storage section. We do this and return. We can get a free audio set if we wish. Just go back to the storage to pick it up. We do this and return again. All set now? It would seem so, so we spend a few hours gong through the palace using the good audio guide which has been selected for English. Electronic audio guids we have found to be very good throughout our trip, especially as the preferred language can be selected at will.

The palace was extensively damaged during the war and has been rebuilt with quite a few of the wallpapers still in tact or recreated. The floors are all in tact and the presentation is very good.

Our arrangement was to meet Scot at 2pm. We won’t make that time but shouldn’t be more than 30 minutes late. Walkng back to the station, we enter the station and go to the required platform. We want the ring clockwise to retrace our steps. Checking the sign, we climb aboard the waiting train which leaves within a few moments.

We have a carriage to ourselves… a rare treat. As the train travels along the track at less than usual breakneck speed, a view down the rest of the train reveals that we probably have the whole train to ourselves. Maybe we got on a terminus train which is going off to a siding. Good guess.

The train pulls into a siding next to another one and stops. It is quite hot in the carriage with little air flow. There is a mesh platform outside but none of the buttons opens any door. Because Ro’s thermostat has ceased to function , she is getting very hot and feeling a little panicked. There is a red button we assume for emergencies. I break the seal, press the button and speak into the sound device. Nothing. I repeat and still nothing. We look around for other emergency devices.. There is an emergency door opening device. Maybe we should use that.

As we contemplate this, the train driver walks past. We make our presence known and he comes over to talk. Fortunately he has quite good English and after trying a few switches and buttons in the end of the carriage has the door open. Cool air! Ro laps it up.

The driver says the train will return to the station in 15 minutes and that we should not get off the train for safety. He will announce when the doors are closing. I have been wondering how the train is powered and I take the opportunity for a discussion regarding that question with the driver. He is very helpful and informative. It may be Ro standing in the door panting which causes me to forget the question I had about regenerative braking. Still, terminating trains are a dime a dozen so there will no doubt be other opportunities. After our discussion we apologise for interrupting his break but he dismisses our apologies and says Germans regularly do this also.

In ten minutes, he announces in English that the doors are closing and the train returns to the station probably 2 km away. We thankfully get off the train as others stream on to the now In Service train. I wave to the driver at the start of the train and he waves back. We compare how this may have played on a French train and are thankful that was not the case.

More cautious this time, we board the correct ring train to Ostkreuz and count down the now familiar station names. Alighting at Ostkreuz, we walk down steps to S3. But this one goes to Potsdam, the opposite direction so we walk up again and along to the next platform where our train awaits…..with other passengers on board.

The train is stationery for some minutes and I decide to test my german to check the train is going to Kopernik. “Entschuldigung bitte, Fahren dieser Zug nach Kopernik?”, I ask a woman near by , I am expecting this to mean Excuse me please, does this train travel to Kopernik? The answer of Nein causes us to start shuffling off the train. Ro is on the platform when another woman in the same party says “Ja, etc etc” which I take to mean it does. Ro climbs back on board as I anxiously hope the doors are not about to close with Ro outside and me inside as there are a lot of people both on and off the train. She reboards among busy discussions in german which I don’t understand. I ask them to excuse my terrible german.

We exit the train at Kopernik with further comments and laughter from our german helpers.

It is about 2.45 and Scot has just returned from his visit which he thoroughly enjoyed. He learnt of the ways East Germany operated prior to the wall coming down, sat in a Trabby, the iconic East German car which ceased production in the 1980s.

It is very hot so we want to go to a lake for a swim. Taking the van, we set a destination on TomTom. We are considering hiring a boat so that is our destination. Arriving there and finding a parking spot, we walk to the hire place which turns out to be a tiny crowded swimming place on the river. We decide against trying to hire there and instead continue onto a point on the much larger lake.

The parking area we enter is extremely crowded and manoeuvring the van is in there neither smart nor easy. But we are committed, or perhaps should be. Moving around is not unlike one of those puzzles where you try to spell a word in a 2 dimensional frame with one empty location. However we are lucky and a car leaves a space just perfect for us.

By now, we are very hot and the water is very inviting. The scene is lovely with sand, grass shade and fresh water; technically fresh, that is. The water stays thigh deep for 50 metre and the bottom is rocky, muddy and reedy. The water is quite particulate with weed and floating vegetation. However there are many small fish so it must be reasonably clean.

By 7.30 we are ready to leave, refreshed if not cleansed. The Alt Stadt which we saw last night but did not visit has a number of eating places , one of which we would like to sample. The Alt Stadt is on an island which we almost circumnavigate after parking. A bier garten by the water looks nice so we eat there. The3 food is three times the price of last night’s but probably three times as nice and still very good value.

Dinner is fairly slow in arriving so we have time to enjoy our surroundings. When we leave it is nearly 10pm. We walk to another place on the island called The Boat or something similar and has a floating small ship with three masts. The whole area has wonderful atmosphere.

Finally we return to our camp site and are in bed by 11.30. Scot decides to go out on the town but finds little of interest and returns reasonably soon. The night is very hot so we have a somewhat disturbed sleep.

Thursday 26th July 2012

Today we will leave but first a bit of washing, housecleaning and a haircut for Scot. As we do our chores, Scot walks into Kopernik for a 10 euro haircut.

We pay the rather loquacious manager and have some lunch then set off. A detour or two later and we are clear of Berlin and once again in the countryside. It is lovely to be back in our preferred environment. However our days in Berlin with Scot as guide and companion have been enjoyable. Although Scot has visited Berlin 3 times before and now considers it one of his favourite cities, he has seen mostly new things this trip.

We head for the lakes area and as the day is hot, keep our eyes out for an appropriate swimming spot. Eventually we are passing through a lovely forest when we see a sign for a camping area. We drive into the dirt road past the camp which appears to be minimalist in the extreme. But that suits us, especially as it is buried in the forest.

Forests here are fairly sparse with lots of leaf ground cover from the previous winter and lots of mossy rocks. They are cool and green and we have fallen in love with them.

The camp fronts the lake and next to the camp is another swimming point so we gleefully park and enjoy the water for an hour. It is much cleaner than the lakes in Berlin and gets deep quickly. The water is quite cold 500 mm down but the surface layer is warm.

Checking with some other people there we determine that camping is only allowed in the camp site so we go and ask if we can stay a night or two. No problem.

The camp is indeed minimalist. One cold shower, 4 toilets over a septic tank (thankfully with no odour), no electricity but what scenery!

We spend the remainder of the afternoon swimming and a bit later having a discussion over a beer with the camp manager who is my age and with whom we rapidly form a bond, despite his speaking no English and my speaking a very poor facsimile of german. Scot’s language skills make up for my lack of and we have a good discussion which includes looking at Wolfgang’s excellent photographs of local wildlife.

We have an early dinner and are in bed by 9.30.

Friday 27th July 2012

I wake up at 6 as we have not closed our curtains and the early morning light brightens the van by dawn.

During the night, I have had cause to visit the toilets. Visit is not strictly correct as the night is so dark that, even with a torch, I am unable to find the toilets. I stumble around in the leaves and forest debris for 5 or 10 minutes before abandoning my search. I had had the presence of mind to put on the outside light on the van, which I fixed some weeks ago, and this is the saving grace which prevents me sleeping the rest of the night outside.

At 6am I go for a walk as the sun is rising. The forest by the lake is beautiful and I have an extended extra-glad-to-be-alive moment.

We have decided to stay two nights as we have been on the go every day since Scot arrived and will enjoy a day off, especially on a hot day in such a lovely environment.

First up is a trip to a nearby town for provisions and four noodles to use in the lake. We can buy a 3 metre long inflatable boat at Aldi where we are buying our groceries but we think this may be a bit overkill. After our groceries shopping we walk over to a shopping complex where a sport store has noodles for 4 euro each. With everything so cheap in Europe, these seem relatively expensive.

Back at the camp, we go to the lake to try out our new purchases. Scot uses two tee shirts to make a floating submersible lounge and we spend the afternoon enjoying that in the lovely fresh water.

About 6pm, Wolfgang invites us to have dinner with him and his partner Monica. Liana, another camper, joins us. We take an Australian bottle of red wine and over the next two hours we discuss things relating to Germany and Australia. Liana has travelled round Australia over three months. Once again, our lack of language skills is overcome through goodwill and a smattering of the other’s language. Scot’s being fluent in German may also have contributed. In fact he has the majority of discussion with Ro and I picking up bits and pieces and contributing here and there with mixtures of German, English and words belonging to neither language, accompanied by much laughter and some confused expressions.

Then back to the van to sleep about 11. A storm is expected tomorrow afternoon so we may swim until lunch then leave when the storm arrives.

Our plans are slightly altered when the storm arrives at 2am requiring me to collect various items outside which should not get wet.

Saturday 28th July 2012

Despite the small storm, the morning is warm and, although overcast, should clear by mid morning.

We decide to aim for an after lunch departure and spend the morning relaxing by the lake. The two days we have had relaxing has been very good for us.

Our destination is a lake about 100 km from our current location. We drive until 2.30 and stop for lunch by the roadside in a forest. Continuing on toward our destination we encounter a problem with Thomasina as she seems to get very confused and will not display the speed or speed limit. After some turn left-turn right-do a u turn type instructions she finally admits that there is no GPS signal. This could be a problem as we have been using her exclusively and, although we have a number of maps of varying detail, we have become accustomed to abrogating the responsibility for navigation to omniscient Thomasina.

Without Thomasina, we rely on Scot’s iPad which uses mobile towers and triangulation to navigate. By 6pm we have arrived at our camp site by yet another lake. This camp site is as sophisticated as last night’s was minimalist. There are hundreds of tents and caravans and many people. It is much cooler than yesterday but if it warms up tomorrow, there are far more water sports and we may hire some sailing boat or canoe.

But for now we are pleased to settle in for the evening.

Sunday 29th July 2012

Overnight and well into the morning it rains. It is not too cold but the persistent rain means there is little point in hanging about here.

So after breakfast it is on the road again. The terrain we drive through is different from that through which we have driven in recent days. We still drive through wooded areas but they are smaller and have increased numbers of birches. There are more pastures and the towns are different, with a soviet influence evident in some of the large housing estates.

About 11.30 we stop for a late morning tea. There is a market in a town so we browse the stalls. Same as markets everywhere….some trash and treasure, some clothing and some new bric-a-brack. We buy some apple danishes which turn out to be deep fried and like Crispy Cream donuts. We eat these in a motorhome park which has grass but is otherwise sole less. Nevertheless it is very crowded, a common theme we are to find in these parts during the July holidays.

Continuing on for a few hours, we look for a spot to stop for lunch. We venture off the main road and find a park near a field. There are two or three large old barns, but apart from these we could be in Australia. After a walk between pastures we return, eat our usual lunch of rolls, cheese, ham and salad and continue on our way.

Our destination is the island of Usedom and as we approach there is a continuous line of cars heading away. It is Sunday night so many will be returning for the working week, assuming all are coming from the island and that there has not been a motorway incident. We pass under a bridge which has huge counterweights and hydraulic rams to allow opening for ships. Later we learn that this opens for half and hour twice daily for ships and this may have contributed to some of the traffic jam.

On the island there are hordes of people. The first camp we try has no vacancies and she checks another which is also full. We try a third and they have a place available for the night. But it too is teaming with people, tents, caravans and motorhomes.

After parking we walk along the beach which is also very busy and into the town, likewise teaming. The Ostsee is the place to holiday and the germans do it in droves. Scot comments he has seen this phenomena before.

It is about dinner time so we decide to eat locally. We pass a couple of restaurants we think look good but as we have no money with us and Scot has only 30 euro, we are relying on using his credit card. However in Germany Cash is King as most people do not use credit cards and as such most establishments don’t take credit cards.

Instead we will walk back to the van and get some more money. This we do, returning by 9.30. We approach the last restaurant we chose, now with an appropriate amount of cash. But the restaurant closes at 10 and will not take us. Same with all the others we can find except a kerbab place. Our dinner plans thwarted, we content ourselves with chicken and chips and a kerbab by the beach. Not what we had planned.

We walk back to the camp for a hot shower. Scot goes first using the card we need to do anything around the camp site. However on his return we discover that the showers close a bit after 10 so Scot got the last shower! Fortunately the hot water in the van only takes 10 minutes to heat so Ro and I shower there, pleased that we had ensured the water tank was full when we left our last camp.

Monday 30th July 2012

The morning g dawns cloud free so after breakfast we go to the beach for a while. It is our first swim in the Baltic Sea and we are pleasantly surprised at the temperature which is cool but not really cold. Also we are amazed at how low it is in salt. Normally exiting sea water in Australia leaves a significant salt residue on the skin but not so here.

If we stay after 12 noon we have to pay another night so we leave by 11.30. When we pay the bill of 32 euro we are pleased to be leaving as this is the most expensive camp we have stayed at anywhere, either last year or this. Admittedly we have 3 people rather than our usual two.

Scot wants to visit Peenemunde which is on the island and where the V1 and A4 rockets were developed during the war. They were the first rockets developed and the successor to the V1, the A4, was the first man made space travel object to get to orbital height. It could travel at 4300 kph which seems astounding for the times.

We spend two hours looking at various technological developments, all associated with war unfortunately, but major advances in human endeavour.

After a nice coop of tee we continue to Greifswald which involved joining the long line of cars which we observed on the way in……well hopefully another line of cars. It takes almost an hour to travel 5 km, only part of the holdup due to the bridge being open.

Finally we are clear of the island and we head toward Griefswald. Arriving 15 minutes later, we find an Lidl for provisions and a cash dispenser to top up our funds. Then we look for an overnight park. A sign directs us down a concrete road to an industrial part of town where an inauspicious parking place for motorhomes is full of motorhomes. No room at the inn.

Another park is indicated on a map and we head there. It is by a river and we can stay for 5 euro to be aid to a parking meter. However we don’t have coins so decide to chance it without a ticket. Later I go to look at the machine again and there at the bottom of the machine is an unclaimed ticket allowing parking until 2 pm tomorrow. It is for a car rather than a motorhome but better than nothing so we put that in the windscreen and settle in for the night.

Tuesday 31st July 2012

Another overcast morning which is good for travelling but not so good for sightseeing we want to do around Greifswald.

Walking to the large town square we see the usual 16^th century buildings but with a difference. In these parts, bricks were used rather than timber or stone. The churches are termed brick gothic and seem to be a much easier way of building. One dates back to 13^th century.

There is a market with the usual stalls. We walk toward the wall of the city and through an underpass across the rail tracks and motorway to the Botanical Gardens. The gardens are among the first established in the world and are well set out but quite small in area. Griefswald is a university town and one faculty is dedicated to their study.

On our return to the market place, Ro and Scot have fish rolls for lunch and I have boulettes which are meat patties in rolls.

Our next destination us the island of Rugen which is quite large and a popular holiday destination. Before going over the bridge, we check out the local aires (motorhome camping spots) and dump our waste tanks. Leaving the site, we head for the bridge to Rugen. Thomasina directs us over the new bridge but we turn onto the old bridge by mistake. That will still get us there. As we cross the bridge we see the new bridge towering above us. The bridge and approaches are over 2 km long.

As we join the road which the new bridge has now rejoined, we meet some roadworks and have a split second to go left or right. Thomasina is a bit confused with the new works which she does not have marked but is suggesting we go right. We do that and quick as a wink we are on the new road back to Griefswald. As we cannot turn, we get the magnificent but unintended view from the bridge. Back to Griefswald, a u-turn (which we made when safe to do so, Thomasina) and over the bridge again.

We travel to Prora where Scot wants to see the resort which the Socialist Nationalists (or Nazis) set up in 1936. It is a huge 5 storey building which goes on for 4 km and was intended to provide holiday accommodation for the masses. The building shell is in tact, albeit with broken windows, left unfinished as it was from 1939 when the war started. It is a monument to both the good and bad side of the regime.

It is getting late so we want to head for our camp for the night. Ro has seen a camp on a map which is about 17 km from our current position. On arrival, we find that the camp is similar to ones we have experienced in the past few days in that it is extremely crowded and quite pricey. Furthermore, the beach, which is across a busy road, is nothing to write home about (despite my writing home about it) and on top of that, the weather is unlikely to be beach weather.

All things considered we opt for a parking area beside the road which we saw this morning. We head for that and find another motorhome there and park behind it. Later two more motorhomes join us. After a delicious dinner of mixed vegetables and chicken prepared with apparent ease as usual by Ro, we have an early night.

Tuesday 1st August 2012

Today our first tourist destination is the chalk coast of Rugen, similar we think to the white cliffs of Dover. We drive to a national park and walk two and a half km through the forest which is beautiful. We pass two or three small lakes, one of which is clear and still and another of which is brightly covered with a small green leaved plant.

At the end of the forest walk we continue down a path which leads to an observation platform high above a pebbly beach and overlooking a white cliff. We continue on and find a boardwalk down to the pebbly beach. The sign says there are 412 steps. We start the descent, Ro wondering if her knee will make the distance. It does but we think there were way more than 412 steps.

Once on the beach we walk some distance admiring the pebbles and small rocks for their colour and texture before starting the long climb back. I count the steps and am surprised to find there are only 440… not so much more than posted.

At the top we have some coffee and waffles before walking back through the forest to the van. As always, the walk up the steps and back through the forest both seem shorter than the forward trip.

At the van, we have lunch then drive to our camp site near Alt Swerin, a town on a lake 180 km away. We have chosen this town as we are to meet David again in Schwerin, 70km away on Friday night prior to Scot’s leaving us until we meet again at Osnabrueck on 12 August.

Along the way we visit Lidl then stop at a lookout. It consists of a steel spiral staircase attached to a steel pole and about 4 metre high. It has not had a lot of traffic in its time and that may be because the view is not much better than on the ground and a two storey house nearby obscures what view there is from the top.

The campsite is well signposted but involves a 5 km trip down a single vehicle track. There are overtake points every 100 metre but fortunately only two small sedans avail themselves of the road. A car and caravan would be different. But narrow roads hold no fears for us now, unless they involve large farm tractors and high speeds.

Arriving at our site, Ro and I have a swim then Ro cooks a meal and we have an early night.

Thursday 2nd August 2012

We are allowing ourselves a day of rest today. It is expected to be 26 or 28 and a day by the lake will be very pleasant.

As the day progresses, it is evident it will not be hot but it is relaxing nevertheless. We read , swim and do a bit of housekeeping including adding a few cable clips which were overlooked.

Around 6pm there is a thunderstorm and a lot of rain is dumped on the site and our van. However we are now fully watertight so we are not concerned. The downpour passes in 10 minutes and it is dry again.

Our plan tomorrow is to drive to Schwerin, 1 hour 15 minutes away. We may change our plans by visiting Felix on Sunday, leaving Scot to explore Schwerin with David then to return to Cologne with him as had been planned. He would then visit Felix on Sunday 12^th, returning to Cologne then going by train to Brussels on 17^th for his flight to Thailand.

We will eat in again tonight and see what tomorrow brings with weather before deciding what time we will leave our camp site.

Friday 3rd August 2012

Today we will leave for Schwerin but when we leave depends on the weather. We can stay in our camp site until 1pm.

The office is only open until 10 am so we need to pay before then. A lot of camp sites now use electronic keys for access to various things and for charging for timed showers. Other sites which do not use the keys have push button timers or coin in the slot for showers. The push button ones use a mechanical valve which is pressed for times spurts of water of length varying from 4 seconds to 30 seconds, often in adjacent showers. Showering thus becomes a fine art which includes rotation under the shower of just the right timing to press the button while passing by with what ever appendage is available while washing off soap. This one uses a key to time the showers. The key is loaded with 5 euro and the exciting part is seeing how much shower we will get for our 5 euro.

Last night Scot had tried first. 30 euro cents to adjust the temperature. However the showering only takes a further 50 euro cents as the technique of wetting, shower off, soaping, shower on, rinsing, shower off is well rehersed. However Ro manages with only 35 euro cents. I blow the budget with 100 euro cents but that includes washing my hair twice. This leaves 2.85 euro on our key. But our first night was nothing compared with last night when we all managed to shower for a combined 75 euro cents!!!! The question is : will this improve our shower habits at home or make us luxuriate under untimed showers. Only time will tell.

Paying for the two nights, 52 euro, we return the key and get our 2.10 euro back. This leaves us without a key to get out the boom gate but the office guy asks when we expect to leave and he will open the boom gate.

By the time we have packed up, emptied tanks, filled other tanks and are ready to roll, it is 12.07 We drive to the gate, 400 metre away, and hope the guy, who was not in the office, will be about. He isn’t. And we are making it difficult for others to exit and egress the boom gate.

We suggest to one car exiting the gate that they could open it for us. However the key is smarter than us and once the car has exited, it won’t let another exit using the same electronic key. Dam! Fortunately, the guy must have seen us there and uses some remote device to allow us to exit.

Travelling up the road a few hundred metres we come across a beach and stop for a swim before continuing on to Schwerin. The water is just as shallow and just as clean but the bottom is more sandy than where we were. After 45 minutes we continue.

Travelling back up the one lane road we meet more cars and one van. However the passing points are well understood by the locals and all works well.

About 2pm we drive off the main road to a lake where there are photos of the lake in winter where it is used for ice skating and ice yachting. The signs are in English and provide some amusing translations. Although far less amusing, I am sure, than my attempts at German.

We reach Schwerin by about 5pm and find the hotel Scot and David will stay in. Scot checks in and we go sightseeing. The main item on our list is the Schwerin Schloss which is not hard to find. We are fortunate to get a park near by and walk over to the magnificent building. It was first built in 900s and is original except for 3 new sets of wall, 2 new gardens and new rooves. That is to say it was demolished once, burned down once(how a stone castle burns down is anathema to me but it happens……extreme carelessness I guess) and was totally rebuilt in the 1800s. Whatever its history, it is now magnificent, especially the gardens through which we could freely walk. It is used as a parliamentary building which explains the large amounts of money spent in recent times on its refurbishment.

As we walk around the extensive gardens, which include a Baroque garden, fountains, a grotto and elevated vaulted walkways, it starts to rain. That seems to happen frequently in these parts but does not last long, although it may be heavy for a short time. We shelter under the largest plane trees we have ever seen until it passes.

Walking into the alt stadt, we look for somewhere to eat and settle on a Greek Restaurant although the only things Greek we order are the salads and the potatoes. A little later, three shot glasses of Ouzo are delivered to the table. As Ro doesn’t like alcohol and I am driving, it is up to Scot to down them. He does so and the relaxation is obvious.

David’s train was due at 10pm but as it is running late David will not arrive until 12, As such we have a few hours to kill and spend them walking around the city. Everything is well kept nd the streets are spotless. It is a very lovely city.

Returning to Scot’s room about 11.30 we try a bit of wifi provided by the hotel, I have little success but Scot with his iPad has the first internet connection he has been able to receive since arriving.

At 11.45 we all go down to the street: us to find a parking spot and Scot to meet David. We had passed a parking area for wohnmobiles a short distance from the hotel so we head for that. It is just asphalt and 8 euro for 24 hours. Ro thinks it will be too noisy so we opt to start for Osnabrueck and to look for a parking lace in the country. Given our plans have altered, we return to Scot who has just met David and farewell him again.

The night is dark and as we drive along I the countryside it occurs to us that finding a park place in the dark may be difficult. But our luck is in and we find a spot where a truck is parked overnight. There is a lot of traffic and it is likely that this place will be nosier than the one in Schwerin. But it is too late to go further so we stop there and go to bed without showers as we don’t want to wait for the hot water to heat, which is only 10 minutes normally. The noise is not a problem and we sleep quickly.

Saturday 4th August 2012

This morning we awake early, a little sleep deprived, have an early breakfast and are on the road by 8.30am.

We want to get to Osnabrueck today which is 5 hours away. As Felix and Kathrin will be out to dinner tonight, we head for a camp site outside Osnabrueck which we will leave early enough to get to Felix and Kathrin by 10am where we have been invited to brunch.

A five hour trip usually ends up taking 7 or 8 hours after stops etc. This time it may take a bit longer as I am a bit short on sleep so get tired a bit sooner than would otherwise be the case. Also we are wondering if the replaced floor still has a few holes which may suck in carbon monoxide. This gas, even in small quantities, can ruin your day……or life.

We stop for morning tea beside a busy road. There is a pile of rubbish which includes some brochures for current motorhomes. We glance through them and are subject to a bit of consumer envy before deciding we are happy with our slightly ageing lady.

Later we stop for our usual brotchen , cheese, ham and salad which we always enjoy. We have the strong belief that the journey is as important as the destination. This is why we never regret our selection of “avoid motorways” on Tom Tom.

We press on, passing a town in which there is a museum of Da Vinci’s recreated machines. We don’t stop, but afterwards regret not doing so. Without making any value judgements, and with the heartfelt belief that others will not either, we do stop for some iced coffee and very special ice cream.

Our ice cream turns out to be rather rich, which should not have been a surprise, so it will probably do for dinner. We continue on, passing near Hamburg. Along the way, we are interested to see some oldish wohnmobiles parked by the road. We see 5 or 6 with red hearts on the door. Presumably a chain of Rent-a-Bomb type rental vehicles. However the wording below the hearts is “Girls Girls Sexy Girls”. The penny drops (or is that 50 euro) that these are mobile brothels!!! Many times we have been impressed with how organised the Germans are, but this brings organisation to a new level.

We reach our camp site by 5pm via the usual narrow roads, crossing back and forth over a river several times and finally settle in for a relaxing night with more sleep than last night. What is more, the showers are hot and not times and there is a hot sauna. Life is good.

Sunday 5th August 2012

We need to arise early to get to Felix and Kathrin’s by 10. This includes paying for our night’s stay.

Thomasina reports the trip as 20 minutes. We had said yesterday to the manager we would be ready to leave by 9.30 and we are at the gate by 9.27.In German, he comments how punctual we are and we respond by giving him an Australian flag. Most people see few Australians and often when told where we have travelled from are wide eyed in amazement, as if we are from another galaxy at least.

We arrive at Rudolfstrasse at 9.57 and are met by beaming Felix and Kathrin. First problem is where to park the van. Around the corner we find an appropriate spot and manoeuver the van into it. We are supposed to have a green disc on the windscreen indicating we have paid a pollution tax allowing us to bring the vehicle into the city. We don’t have one and hope the policing authorities are not about today.

First thing is brunch of coffee, bread rolls, eggs and meat; a typical German breakfast. After discussion of what each of us has been up to, we go for a walk around the alt stadt of Osnabrueck. We do our usual church visit and look at the old Rathaus (town hall) where a treaty for the 100 years war was signed. Actually, the treaty was half signed there and half in the opponent’s Rathaus as there was still quite a degree of mistrust on either side. The Rathaus has been restored and includes a meeting room with church like pews fixed to the walls around the room and numerous portraits hanging of notable persons from the times.

One of Felix’s great loves in life, apart from Kathrin, is ice cream so a visit to an ice creamery is mandatory. The icecreams are called things like Strawberry spaghetti, Gnocci and pizza despite being all icecream and very sweet. It is another treat but once again obviates the need for any lunch or afternoon tea.

We walk back to the flat and spend a pleasant few hours discussing things from mosquitoes (with which Felix works) to teaching methods(Kathrin’s area of study)to wedding plans and some of our adventures. As it gets darker, Felix heats some coals for cooking of German sausages which we enjoy with grilled fetta cheese, salad and grilled vegetables . Later we grill marsh mellows over the still glowing coals.

It had been our intention to sleep in the van however Felix very kindly talks us into sleeping in the flat. It is nice to have a true bed and some additional space. We sleep well until 4am when I need to do some internet banking for a transaction in Melbourne which is time critical. As it happens, I need not have bothered because the funds I had hoped would be transferred were not. But a check later in the day confirmed all is OK, which is good.

Monday 6th August 2012

Felix had promised to show us how he removes kidneys from mosquitoes in the course of his work at the university. We were somewhat fascinated with the fine abdominal surgery this must entail (to remove the entrail) In particular, I was keen to see his skills in suturing when closing the abdominal cavity. I was to be disappointed.

We intended driving Felix to his laboratory in the van then continuing toward the Netherlands. We all climb in and I turn the ignition key to the resounding sound of nothing. How could the starter battery be dead? No matter, I will jumper the new house battery to start the engine. We have jumper leads so in a jiff I have them connected. However a slow turn of the engine is all I can achieve. A friendly passing council employee with an appropriate vehicle is accosted without success. He would like to help but the battery in his vehicle is inaccessible. Felix goes to seek a neighbour who has a car which may be OK to jump start the van.

While Felix is away, I try bypassing the negative lead and the engine jumps to life. Collecting Felix and apologising to the neighbour who is now on the street, we drive to the university, parking in a near empty student car park as they are on holiday.

The first stop at the lab is where Felix breeds his mosquitoes. Mosquitoes don’t smell but the mice ,also bred there for research, do. Boy do they smell. Felix says one gets used to the smell but I don’t think my life will be substantially deprived if I don’t get that chance. A tissue over the nose will do just fine for the short term. After discussing the intricacies of mosquito feeding (they have sugar for energy but only the females need blood for egg production) we go up to his lab to see Felix perform a “kidneyectomy” on a mosquito. We are surprised that he wears no surgical gown, mask or gloves. The atmosphere is tense as the mosquito is anaesthetised in a bucket of ice then gently moved to the theatre using a patient transporter which could be mistaken for a pair of tweezers.

The delicate surgery is performed under a microscope which fortunately has two sets of eyepieces so we can watch. Felix has told us he can perform the op in 30 seconds when required. With bated breath we prepare ourselves to observe the lightening fast scalpel movements and sewing machine speed closure. Instead we see Felix grab the front end and rear end of the mosquito with separate tweezers and tug. That is it? What about closure? What is removed is a set of tubules which function in the mosquito like a kidney functions in us. As I understand, the tubules form part of the components which Felix studies. (Felix, feel free to add comments correcting this minimalist explanation) We also saw how potentials across cells are measured using extremely fine electrolyte filled glass electrodes. All very interesting.

Leaving Felix to his work, we return to the van and again the motor will not start. However, the solution is simply to clean the battery terminal and improve the inadequate battery lead connection and that is done as the kettle boils for coffee.

We will stay just inside the German border tonight as we need internet connection and that is lost once we exit Germany. We will get a French SIM once we are again in France.

Last night we decided that not going to Felix and Kathrin’s wedding would be a mistake so we have altered our plans and will travel probably to Normandy then back to near Osnabrueck for the wedding. Appropriate clothing is still a slight issue but if we turn up in tee shirt, shorts and thongs, they can just say “They’re Australian” and we are sure everyone will understand.

We stay at a camp site in Borken and get a good night’s sleep between rain showers. They still have not perfected the concept of summer here.

Tuesday 7th August 2012

The morning is overcast and cool. But it does not stop Ro gong for a swim. The water is shown on a chalkboard as 24 degrees but who knows when that was. Probably not now. That may be why she spends the next two hours trying to get warm again, despite vigorous hand washing of our dirty clothes.

We are in no great hurry to vacate and the lovely German lady who comes to our van to settle the bill and who speaks no English, assures us that we can take as long as we like. At least, that is what we interpreted her to say.

Before we leave we have a cup of coffee. As we do so, a couple whom we met as we entered the site last night comes to say farewell. We invite them in for coffee and they accept. They are German but he teaches English and she has quite good English. We talk for about an hour and swap email addresses. They have similar interests to us and who knows how we may arrange to meet again.

It is about 2pm when we leave, heading for Helmond, about 120 km away in the Netherlands. As always we program Thomasina to exclude motorways and enjoy the results. After stopping for lunch at 2.45, we arrive in Helmond about 4.30pm.

The reason for visiting Helmond is that we have a long standing friendship with Robin and Liz Helmond and thought we could send them a photo or two or a postcard. As it happens, we don’t see any open shops or many shops at all for that matter. We will have to content ourselves with an email with a few attached photos.

We find a parking place a few km from the centre and take the bikes off to ride in. We set Thomasina to our current location in case we have difficulty finding our way back. All Europe is well set up for bikes but no country more so than Holland. Every road has separate bike paths and all traffic lights have bike lights which operate independently of the pedestrian lights, presumably because bikes travel faster than pedestrians. The only slight drawback with the bike paths is that they are shared with motor scooters who speed by at fairly high speeds. We assume they are not supposed to use the roads as they do not wear helmets.

We ride by canals, houses and a city zoo which has free range animals such as alpacas, ox, goats, deer and assorted feathered creatures. Returning to the van, with a little help from Thomasina who calls out instructions from the bag around my neck (a slightly disturbing disembodied voice for those whom we pass), we refit the bikes and travel 12 km to our camp site. That is, 12 km if we can find the place. In programming the destination, the number of the road is not found by Thomasina. Instead we choose “Cross Anywhere” and Murphy’s law dictates we are delivered to the wrong end of a long road.

Finally we give up and program another camp site. As we drive away, we are directed to do a U turn but being the disobedient beings we are, we don’t. Instead we continue along the original road and Thomasina reluctantly recalculates. But luck is with us and we see a number close to the one we wanted and then the gate we want. Meanwhile Thomasina is saying in her usual exasperated tone to “make a u turn when possible” so we rather ungratefully turn her off.

The manager speaks English and is very welcoming. He offers us Dutch coffee, which turns out to be indistinguishable from other coffee, and we compare climates and similarities and differences between our two countries.

We have a light dinner and go to bed with little noise to disturb our sleep.

Wednesday 8th August 2012

The morning is slightly sunny and we lap up our time in the sun before clouds arrive. There is a natural pool which has a weed system for water filtration and assorted wildlife within, including salamander we are told. Whether it is this last fact or whether it is too cold, Ro decides against a swim. My sneaking suspicion is that it is the former.

Our destination is Middelburg which is on the coast and will allow us to see the dykes and the Delta Project built to protect Holland against floods from the North Sea such as occurred in 1953 with the loss of 2000 lives.

It had been our intention to simply cross the Netherlands on our way to Brugge in Belgium but as we pass through the country we feel a desire to see more. As always we choose non motorway roads which give us a taste of the country we don’t believe we get on motorways.

Roads, even main roads, in Holland are even more narrow than in France and Germany. To make matters worse, each road has a bicycle lane of at least ½ metre either side marked with a white dashed line leaving little more than one lane for cars in either direction to fight over. If there are bicycles on each side, cars in each direction crawl behind the bikes until there is a place to overtake with sufficient margin for wind, bike wobble or other frailties. Some bike riders show some thanks for courtesies extended by drivers while others take it as their right. One rider when he noticed us crawling behind waiting for enough space to pass moved to the centre of the road rather than providing extra space for us by moving to the side.

Speed limits are low: 80 occasionally, 60 more often, 50 usual and 30 frequently. Only on motorways is the limit 100 or more. Furthermore, the speed limits are encouraged to be observed by “Drempels” which are speed humps in the road, the height of which is inversely proportional to the speed limit. However crossing a 30kph drempel at 30 causes the crockery and bikes on the back of the van to be ejected from rest and deposited elsewhere. Although marked with white lines, the occasional lapse in concentration causes havoc. Bikes are checked on a few occasions and cupboards are opened with trepidation.

After an hour of drempels, we abandon the scenic way and opt for motorways, saving ½ an hour and 5 plates. Finally we reach Middelberg and find our camp site. However it seems we should have booked as there is no place available for us.

A few km back we had stopped to look over a dyke to the ocean and this will do as a wild camping place. As it is still early, about 6 pm, we take off the bikes with the idea of riding along the dyke to Middelburg. After a few km we ask another biking person, of whom there are many, how far to Middelburg. He suggests 6 or 7 km which is more than we want to ride tonight, given the same return distance. We instead ride a few more km before returning to the van.

Dinner is mainly nibbles as we had lunch quite late and we go to bed with little noise but the Baa ing of sheep and the beating of ship’s engines only 100 metres from us.. Mind you, if that keeps us awake, we can count Baa s or the sheep themselves if we use a torch.

Thursday 9th August 2012

Neither bleating nor beating disturbs our sleep and we awake early to a completely cloudless sky. Quite a change from past mornings. We eat our usual breakfast and head toward Middelburg where we want to cycle around the town.

Driving down a small road past a canal we pass largish houses in large grounds which are very attractive set against the canal. There are some parking places marked 2 hour however they have blue lines and the last set of blue lines associated with parking in Switzerland last year cost us 120 Swiss francs. A local confirms that blue lines mean residential parking and that we need a sticker to park there. We think the sign contradicts that but don’t want to take the chance. Instead we find a place close by near a service station, remove the bikes and ride from there.

It is only a 2 km ride following Centrum signs to the town square. There is a magnificently ornate church there but it is overshadowed by typical tawdry fair ground which is temporarily set up, one large ride obscuring a significant part of the church façade. Fair grounds in Europe involve large trailer mounted machinery and this one includes a ride which has an arm pivoted 30 metre above the ground and reaching 60 metre. They are setting up and the arm rotates sedately not unlike a 2 gondola ferris wheel. It might be a good way to view the town. However, once checks are complete, the arm is sped up to its full speed, inverting the gondolas during rotation and the idea of it as a viewing platform disappears. It reaches 4.5 g and 120 kph. Viewing of the town may well be replaced by viewing one’s stomach contents.

Everywhere in Holland there is water and this town is typical. Canals and bikes are ubiquitous. On one canal there is a boat ride available. However the bridges over the canal seem to have enough clearance for the boat but not the passengers. As Ro shops for some shoes, I watch as a boat full of tourists returns. The skipper has a PA system and as he approaches the bridge he calls something in Dutch which must be something like “Mind your head” for as the boat passes at reasonable speed under the bridge, the skipper lies down on his seat and all the passengers follow. I wonder how many don’t get low enough fast enough but it does not seem to bother the skipper.

A small café away from the tourist area catches our attention and we have coffee and an apple flap for morning tea. After a leisurely break, we ride back to our van with a little help from Thomasina and continue along our drempel strewn way toward the Delta Project.

Zeeland consists of three fingers of land which have been progressively reclaimed from the sea. However, as mentioned earlier, storms in the North Sea in the past have caused flooding with disastrous results. Across the land fingers have been built massive concrete gates which can be closed off when storms threaten. A road passes over the concrete gates and that is the road we take.

Having travelled over one set of gates, we decide there is no point continuing further to see the other two. Ro observed way below us on the seaward side some motorhomes parked out on the rock and concrete banks of an artificial harbour. We drive off the main road onto a minor road which may lead to where the motorhomes are parked. After a wrong choice or two we find the correct road and drive out to where two massive wind turbines are almost silently rotating. We have seen hundreds of these in Holland and assume they form a large part of the Netherland’s power grid.

After an hour we head for our camp destination on the Netherlands/Belgum border. Being a bit drempled out, we allow Thomasina to use motorways which means we are only 40 minutes from our camp.

Driving on the motorway requires a different set of skills which are a bit easier this year due to experience of the motorway system and knowledge of the van’s power, or lack thereof. It is nice to reach our campsite.

On checking in, unfortunately after the office has closed, we ask whether there is a dinner available. They believe there is enough room for two more. It is 5.30 and we need to be back to the clubrooms by 7pm. Just time to enjoy a bit of sun and get set up.

We had been warned by Adi that food in the Netherlands is not memorable. The fixed menu dinner consists of two beef olives each with tons of pommes fritte. That’s it. A bit of mayonnaise for the pommes frite as an afterthought. And chocolate cake with cream for dessert. Lift your game Netherlands!

After a bit of wifi to wash things down, we return to the van about 10 to a quiet nights sleep.

Friday10th August 2012

We get on the road by 11 with Brugge as our destination. We start with non motorways and drive through towns and villages.

The transition from Holland to Belgium is rapid. Houses in Holland have lots of flowers and colour. Those in Belgium seem to lack both. One street which is fairly major for these parts has houses either side with almost no adornments of colour. Brown brick houses side by side with a narrow walkway either side of the road. It looks more like an industrial area than a suburban streetscape. Maybe it is just this area.

We get to Antwerp and have to cope with city traffic for some kilometres. The city is like any other and from what we see, we do not feel the need to explore it.

As we exit Antwerp, one road alteration not known bout by Thomasina sees up doing the same 2 km loop twice and heading for a third time. That is two times too many. Bugger the cultural way: we take the motorway. We will spend a bit of time in the sun at our campsite, about 16 km from Brussels.

We should have been alerted to a problem when Thomasina said “pardon me?” to the entered street name but we didn’t. All was fine until we received those usually comforting words “You have reached your destination”. Shouting “This is not the bloody destination” does nothing. Driving up a hopeful road does nothing. Fortunately asking a friendly cyclist does. In fact he guides us 1 ½ km to the campsite. Very good of him, especially as he had his son following behind on a smaller bike. The father’s lycra riding suit suggests the son is used to a follow-or-get-lost attitude.

The final 500 metres is down a one lane cobbled road with embankments either side so that meeting any vehicle would require some serious reversing skills. Fortunately we don’t. When discussing the situation with the manager he says he has never encountered a problem but that they have a very large tractor which would fix any problem that might arise. We did not mention that we know all about big tractors.

Saturday 11th August 2012

We awake to a cloudless sky and will stay here today to recuperate. Since meeting Scot we have had less days off the tourist tasks and notice the difference. Besides which, I still need to seal the kitchen bench and to search out some leaks which allow the odd diesel fume in under certain conditions.

The work part is about one hour’s work which can wait for the time being . We spend the morning reading and swimming (in a very cold pool) and go for a walk in the forest which borders the camp site. We also pick blackberries but without a container can only eat them. We will return with a jar later.

In the afternoon I do the sealing work as Ro does some clothes washing. Then another swim and the day is coming to a close.

Tomorrow we will continue our trip, first visiting Leuven, about 10 km away which we are told is a lovely medieval university town, then on to Brugge.

Sunday 12th August 2012

Today is more overcast. A good day to continue our travels. But as the day progresses, the sky clears and the lovely sunshine seduces us.

We enjoy reading and swimming then around lunchtime we make a few phone calls to Australia, one of which means it is prudent to stay here for internet access tomorrow morning. The sun is shining, there is no wind and we have to stay for internet access. Well that’s life. We will just have to put up with it. But life sometimes deals blows like this.

The rest of the day is spent reading swimming and going for another walk in the forest. Such is our abject laziness that there is not even any work to do on the van! Ro says ‘speak for yourself’ because she has washed four towels.

This morning we slept until 9am which is unusual having gone to bed at 9.30pm. Tonight we will leave the curtains open so we get an early start.

Monday 13th August 2012

Our early start is marred by the need contact Victoria Police regarding a fine issued for my driving the Avalon whilst unregistered. Two weeks before leaving Australia, I had dutifully vacated the lane of a high speed police car with flashing lights.which was approaching fast. Unfortunately I turned out to be the target of her pursuit. I immediately contested the fine stating that we would be overseas and please to respond in two weeks or by email. Neither happened until August when a letter was received at home and opened by our daughter rejecting my explanation and requiring payment of $611 by 9^th August. The problem was, our daughter could not give or get any information because of privacy. When I rang on Skype, I could not select from the automated redirection system as Skype does not send numeric input and there was no email address as “VP don’t do email”. I finally emailed the VP web support manager hoping he/she could pass on my email to the relevant department. I don’t really want to waste time wondering for the next month to what level the matter will have escalated by our return.

Finally we can leave. As we exit down the one lane road with the steep embankments either side we hope we will not meet any cars heading in the opposite direction. We don’t. We meet a boldly great green tractor! When we see him, both parties know there is a problem. Each vehicle only just fits in the gully in which the road runs. Fortunately there is a smallish passing bay and I squeeze as far into it as I can. The tractor approaches, the driver towering in his seat above my seated position.

He edges opposite us and stops. I creep forward. He creeps forward. I creep forward. He creeps forward. Now I can turn behind him and we can continue. And we still had 100mm to spare!

Unencumbered we sail down the road until it opens to a huge 1 ½ lane road which takes us to Leuven We have been told that this medieval town is delightful but our experience is less than that. This is partially because we arrive just as the town is cleaning up after Marktrock, which, from the mountains of rubbish and massive sound stages, had obviously been a hugely successful rock event. We are glad we did not choose to visit yesterday. However that obviously effects our enjoyment of the historic town and after riding around for an hour we think we have seen enough. Our one highlight would have to be the Rathouse, or Belgium equivalent, which is a magnificently ornate 18 century (or there abouts) building. The sound stage which would have occluded the front was, fortunately, mostly demolished.

We continue driving toward Brugge, staying off the motorways to get a feel for Belgium. The drive is like that we had in the top of Italy. We always seem to be in suburbia, albeit rural suburbia, with almost no areas of open farm land. This may be because housing clings to the main roadways. The farmlands may be all away from the main roads. We also notice that there is less colour in Belgium than the Netherlands, Germany and France. Flowerboxes on houses are rare treats.

Arriving in Brugge at 4.00pm, we look for a park for the van so we can ride around the city. As we have asked Thomasina to take us to the city centre, we find ourselves entering the historic section which is criss crossed with canals. Brugge, like so many other towns, is called “Little Venice”. It probably has more claim to the title than most. There are many cars, trucks and buses plying the cobblestone narrow roads but we feel we should not be here so head for an exit. However as we do so, we see an appropriate park and, after asking a local, think we should be OK there as the parking officers have probably gone home by now. The nice thing is that it will be light until 9.30 at least.

Removing the bikes, we set off along a canal. Heading toward the town square we travel along cobbled roads with old buildings in which are displayed modern sculptures. We continue to the square which has magnificent buildings around its perimeter and the obligatory statue of a prominent person in the middle. The fact that I did not note his name would, no doubt, be of concern to those who erected the statue: but such is life, to paraphrase an infamous Australian. The square reminds us a bit of that in Florence near the Ufitzi (?) gallery; including the hordes of tourists. Although we recognise we too are tourists, they are the problem; not us.

The town is well worth seeing from an historical perspective but we cannot help thinking there is a slight air of shabbiness. Riding further we watch hordes of tourists being transported around the canals in long narrow boats similar to those we saw in Middelburg.

After an hour we think we have seen enough of Brugge, be that right or wrong, and we move on. There is still enough light for us to find a wild camp site and this we achieve by travelling down a small lane until we find a field which does not look like farmers will want to visit tomorrow.

We enter the field and find the van is quite level so that will do. Settling in, we have a quiet night after a meal of freshly cooked vegetables.

Tuesday 14th August 2012

After breakfast we are on the road by 9.30am. Our task is to find the coast road, the D940. Finding this proves to be a little like finding “The Romantic Road” last year. We expect to find the French equivalent of “The Great Ocean Road” but it seems the French have as much of a problem with the concept of “Coast Road” as Northern Europe has with the concept of a sunny summer.

After avoiding a low bridge which threatens to remove our top, we travel toward the coast and finally get our first glimpse of the English Channel, or from our side, la Manche. The day is somewhat humid and the mist obscures the English coast although the bumpy horizon is probable that coast thinly displayed above the sea.

Our end point is to be somewhere around YPort, about 200 km away or 4 hours along the non motorway roads.

We note as we travel that the villages are becoming more picturesque. The villages and scenery are far more attractive than we had experienced in Belgium. However along the way we pass through Bologne sur Mer which is a big, dirty port city. We do not linger, preferring the green and peacefulness of the countryside.

The day seems to pass quite quickly and we wonder where it has gone and what we have seen. Some has been taken up by venturing toward the coast in the hope we will find a coast road. Each road leads to a village which may or may not have access to the sea but which is not connected to the next village by a coast road. We also hope we may see a suitable overnighting place but that does not happen either.

One such excursion leads us to a small village where we park and start walking to the coast. The walk turns out to be about 1 km and leads us to the top of a cliff which we gingerly peer over. In the distance we see more of the limestone rocks which have parallel lines making them look like man made walls. We also watch birds below soaring on the air currents.

Another takes us to a lighthouse but before that we walk over to look at an emplacement from WW2. The bunker is open and one can venture into it. However the smell and tissue paper makes it uninviting. There are many such structures along the coast. What a waste of human endeavour war is.

It seems we will have to press on to Yport which we will reach by 9.30 pm now. But things are not quite as easy as we hope as we approach Yport. There seems to be some gathering or festival or something and cars line the road for kilometres along our path to our camp site. Hordes of people from the hundreds of cars pour along the road. Despite the narrow roadway remaining, cars pass in both directions with little room either side. Driving the van along here is not fun. Eventually we decide to bail out and do a multi point U turn while traffic waits patiently either side. Rarely in Europe are drivers impatient over such things.

We are pleased to get out of the cramped driving conditions and instead continue on to Etretat, about 10 km further. As we enter we see a sign for camper car parking and thankfully head for that. As we turn in to the dirt parking area, a sign proclaims this a Camping Aire but another sign prohibiting camping. Most confusing. But 10 or 12 other vans are not concerned so we stay there. By morning there are another 4 or 5 so the contradictory sign seems not to deter others.

Wednesday 15th August 2012

After a quite night’s sleep we awake at 7am. We think it prudent to vacate the site in case the local constabulary want to check and disagree with our interpretation of the sign. We will have breakfast by the sea in Etretat.

This turns out to be a very good idea as the city centre and beach is all but deserted and the temperature is balmy. Furthermore, it is 7.30am and we don’t need to feed the parking meter until 9am!

Our first sight is the rugged limestone cliffs which include an undermined section which forms what is commonly known as an elephant drinking. The bridge section looks very much like the elephant’s trunk sucking up sea water. Claude Monet spent a lot of time here and painted the scene and others during the period 1886 to 1889. Walking up toward the cliff, there is a German concrete pillbox from WWII. It must have been traumatic for the locals at that time to see their cliffs scarred by such constructions. However, our history is full of such things, these seeming more relevant as they are more contemporary.

Returning to the van we have breakfast then walk toward the opposite end of the beach where there are more imposing cliffs, including a hidden gorge. As we walk back, it starts to lightly rain. I return to the van as it is approaching 9am and Ro stays to take more photographs. As I capture our travels in words, Ro captures them in photos. Each tells an interleaved and common storey.

On return to the van, we have our breakfast hot drink then walk around the town. It is a very attractive village with well restored buildings, hundreds of years old. One is all timber with what seem like stalls on two levels. It probably dates from the mid to late 18^th century and is operating with gift type shops on the lower level while the upper level is not used. Other quaint, old buildings are used as hotels and restaurants.

The foreshore is filled with fishing boats and more modern sailing cats. When we leave at 9.30, the cats are rigged for the day’s use and the fishing boats are already out finding their day’s catch.

The tide here is quite high and warnings in 4 languages warn about checking tide tables before going for walks along the beach. The beach has no sand; only pebbles which twitter as some waves wash them up onto the others.

Leaving Etratat, we continue to Le Havre which is about 20 km away. This is another fairly large, potentially grimy city. However the foreshore where we stop is undergoing quite a lot of refurbishment and is not grimy at all. We park and take the bikes off after visiting the Office de Tourisme, where we get some internet connection and a map.

We want to ride to the Hanging Gardens about which Ro is interested. What they hang from we don’t know. Riding in the direction the map suggests, we ask a local, who speaks Englsh, for directions. He thinks they are 3 or 4 km away but is not quite sure where. We walk further in the direction the map suggests and ask another local, who does not speak English. We gain the impression that she thinks they are in a particular direction but does not know exactly where or how far. She consults another local, who also does not speak English and who thinks similarly and points toward a road. Follow the road and look upward and they are somewhere there. We walk in that direction and eventually the road becomes an overgrown track. We ask another local who speaks a few words of English and is not sure where the gardens are but thinks with a laugh that they are very close. Perhaps I can climb a tree and scan the area. Finally we agree that a steep track at right angles to the one we are on may go in the right direction. We try one and walk through broken beer bottles and rubbish and finally emerge on a grass lawn beyond which is a gate which looks like the gardens.

It is. The gardens have been built on the site of a fort the most recent buildings of which were built in 1856 (apart from greenhouses and tourist accoutrement).There is a magnificent rose garden and greenhouses with tropical plants, some of which are new to both of us. We spend 1 ½ hours then retrace our steps, including the rubbish dump, back to our bikes to ride back to the van.

Our next port of call is Honfleur, home of Eric Satie, whose piano music we enjoy. We decide to take the motorway as this cuts a 90 minute journey to 30 minutes. Leaving our parking place, we stop briefly to look through the cathedral built here after the destruction of its predecessor in WWII. The church is closed, so we continue. This is the first motorway we have used this year by choice.

As we head for the motorway, we are redirected by Police as there has been some incident! Typical! Thomasina, however, manages to find a way round the blockage. But to give credit where due, it is only because we ignore most of her instructions for 5 km and head where we think. The only minor hiccough is when we hit an unmarked speed hump which dislodges the bikes and launches cupboard contents into unintended trajectories. Mind you, the locals were out in force watching the mayhem as the passengers of unwary cars were projected off their seats. Even a bus went over the hump with an almighty crash which must have given the passengers considerable discomfort.

Having reattached the bikes and checked the cupboard contents we continue to the motorway the significant part of which are two bridges of considerable span and height which cross the gigantic Seine and another waterway. The approaches to the peaks of the bridges are very steep and the engineering is most impressive.

Arriving at Honfleur we discover the place is overflowing with tourists. The aire which Ro sees is chockers with motorhomes and parking areas are overflowing. Later we learn there is a jazz festival tomorrow and that may account for some.

We leave Honfleur to look for somewhere to stay the night and find a parking place 10 km out. Another van is parked but leaves after half an hour. A couple more arrive and leave. Looks like it will be just us tonight.

Thursday 16th August 2012

Apart from the odd (and we mean odd) kamikaze motorcyclist passing by , the site is quite and we sleep well. We get up at 7.30, at least partially because we hear a car park near by and hope it is not someone wanting to move us on. But we do so of our own accord and get back to Honfleur before the hordes arrive.

There is a parking place on the river opposite the town main square and it allows motorhomes to park 24 hours for 3 euro. Nothing says we cannot stay here overnight so we may do that tonight.

Breakfast is eaten with a view which one could imagine 19 century painters painting. Removing our bikes we ride over a small bridge to the tourist office then walk around the town.

The buildings are tall and narrow and again would make wonderful subjects for painting. There is a jazz band playing in the town as a warm up for the festival. Their music is audible throughout the town centre and we stop to listen for a while.

Our prime tourist target is Erik Satie’s house. He was quite an unorthodox character, collecting dozens of umbrellas during his life. We expect to see other examples in his house. Before riding there we return to the van for coffee and pain au raisin which Ro had purchased earlier today from a small boulangerie while I waited in our illegally parked van. But illegal parking in France is the only real parking and we have French plates.. Despite being fresh and authentic, the pain au raisin are not as nice as others we have purchased from the likes of Carrefour and the pain was a bit overcooked.

Back from Erik’s home we now know that he had 200 umbrellas. Along with 50 false shirt collars, 60 pairs of shoes, 8 identical suits among others and other obsessive collections. He was a true eccentric. The museum is the house in which he lived and it is set up as eccentrically as its owner. Over three floors, one is given a glimpse into a highly creative and individualistic mind. Each room has objects which he drew which have been built or recreated or are displayed. One room has a carousel which is peddle powered and on which visitors are invited to ride. There are four seats with peddles and when ridden, a large umbrella, from which are suspended musical instruments, turns. The quirkiness of the ride cannot be given justice. Suffice is to say, the musical instruments are a lyre with barbed wire, a trumpet with bellows in the middle, a violin neck with a boot attached and an accordion with a book in the middle. As the carousel turns, carnival music plays. Throughout the museum we hear his piano pieces, a CD of which we have brought with us in the van. The final room has a film running which shows very talented dancers moving and exhibiting characters which Satie created. The theatre is set up as a lounge room with tables and chairs scattered on which viewers

can sit. This is undoubtedly the most creative museum we have ever seen and we recommend it without reservation.

There is a “Garden of Personalities” nearby which we believe will be easier to find that Le Harve’s hanging gardens. It is, but far less diverse and interesting. We spend a short time riding around it before returning for lunch in the van. We had intended to get fish at a restaurant last night but were too late. Tonight we won’t be as we are just across the way from numerous restaurants in a seaside fishing port. What’s the bet they only have barramundi from Queensland?

After a mid afternoon lunch, pedicure and siesta, we venture out by foot, exploring some of the other streets of Honfleur. We have become accustomed to the crowds and are starting to get an impression of the town behind the tourists. It has quite a bit of character with the old buildings surrounding the harbour. We enter an all timber cathedral which has two tall bays, the ceilings of which look like the upturned hulls of boats. This may not be surprising as it was built by marine carpenters. The cathedral has a warmth which is lacking in stone cathedrals.

By now we are ready for our fish dinner. We select a waterside table from amongst the hundreds crowded around the harbour. They are already packed. As it happens, Ro has fish and I have chicken. Both are tasty but are supplied to a mass market. The restaurant probably has one point of a Michelin star. However the atmosphere is memorable.

Returning to the van, we take our bikes to the nearby campervan aire. It is a poorly maintained asphalt area with perhaps 200 motorhomes crammed in. It is 10 euro per night to stay. Where we are parked is 3 euro for 24 hours. Maybe we need to read the notices more carefully.

When we return, we see that the Motorhome and Caravan signs we took to be permitting us to park have a red circle with a diagonal line above which means those vehicles are prohibited! We have parked there all day! Lucky the French regulations are mostly suggestions. Nevertheless, we don’t want to camp there overnight.

The aire at least does have dumping facilities and free water so we avail ourselves of those and decide to return to last night’s camp spot which is in the direction we want to head tomorrow.

When we arrive about 9pm, there is another van there for the night so we join it. By morning there are two other cars with occupants curled up inside. We are thankful for our beds.

Friday 17th August 2012

After another reasonably quiet night we awake early and drive on to have breakfast at Trouville, our next port of call. We understand it is a small sea side resort with a sister town called Deauville the latter of which it has been suggested the beautiful from Hollywood have invaded and spoiled. We hope Trouville has not succumbed as yet.

Driving down the narrow wooded road, the view coming into the town is wonderful. Then we see a row of 19^th century hotels and accommodation buildings which are also wonderful but instantly remove any thought that the town is small. It has been a mecca for at least 200 years and little has changed, apart from the odd 1980s abomination at the opposite end of the beach. Although we are there at 8am , the area is packed with cars, their occupants still not up and about as yet.

We walk along a grey wooden boardwalk with longitudinal planks which visually exaggerate its length ,which, in any case, proceeds along the wide sandy beach for over a kilometre. A big tractor (tractors here are always big) tows a scraper behind for sieving the sand of rubbish from the day before. We feel a little guilty putting our footprint in the newly smoothed sand as we walk toward the water.

Continuing along the boardwalk we look at 5 storey buildings from the 19^th century of French, Germanic and other eclectic designs. They stand side by side in mostly good condition with steep steps up from the sandy beach. There are small bill boards with colourful and quirky posters. Other proclaim that not cleaning up your dog’s litter is unacceptable. Finally!

Returning to the van, we decide to leave before the hoards arrive. We will have breakfast along the road to Bayeux where we are heading to see the famous tapestry, which we later discover is in fact an embroidery. However finding a place to stop is not so easy so we eventually drive down a side road and stop at the edge of a field.

Our path to Bayeux is along the now familiar wooded narrow roads with little villages along the way. It is starting to get hot and the sun blazes from a cloudless sky.

We arrive at Bayeux about 12.30 pm and head for a Macdonalds to get some wifi. Leaving there, we drive to the town centre and find a park. It is yet another beautiful town. Bayeux is a biggish town of 15,000 a few years ago. It has a nice feel to it, both the new areas we see and the old town built around a river which flows under buildings to be exposed either side. There is a cathedral dating in part from 11^th century which is exquisite with ornate flying buttresses, towers and spire. We plan to look inside but end up not doing that partially because our maximum time for parking has been exceeded.

However we do visit the Museum which is dedicated to the 70 metre long tapestry and historical aspects surrounding it. We initially have trouble finding it but a couple whom we ask point out a sign which was obvious to all but us until we turn around. Remarkably, the sign points to another sign and eventually to the museum we want. Often if France we find signs are not followed up by others and we end up being no better directed than without any. So this sequence is good.

The tapestry is over 900 years old and is kept in an enclosure which is controlled in temperature and humidity. The lights are limited in intensity and flash photography is prohibited as it alters the molecular structure of the fibres and pigment of the woollen thread over time.

Over its 70 metres there are 57 panels which tell the storey of the capture of the English throne by William the Conqueror in 1066. Edward the reigning king was elderly and sent Harold to Normandy, across the channel in France, to find William the Bastard, Duke of Normandy and a relative of Edward , to succeed him on his death. After finding William, Harold, on his return, was required by Edward to take an oath of allegiance to William when he becomes king. However on Edward’s death, Harold takes the throne. William’s nose s severely out of joint and takes an army to England, defeats Harold’s army and takes the throne, in a bloody battle at Hastings lasting 14 hours, for himself according to Edward’s wishes. The rest is history, as they say.

On the second floor is a museum which has interesting exhibits and wall posters. There is a full sized replica of one of the boats William used and a number of models of Norman buildings and building techniques. We then go up one more floor to a film which, luxury of luxuries, is in English.

When we return to the van, as mentioned, our time limit is up. We had wanted to see inside the cathedral but it is so hot, we decide to continue to our camp site which is 180 km away. As the next few days are to be hot, we want to relax by a pool for a day or so.

We succumb to the seduction of the motorway to save half an hour and arrive at 6.30 where a swimming pool beckons.

The night cools off and we go for a walk about 9pm. There is a track down to a pond where we see an otter parent and two small offspring. Unfortunately we don’t have a camera so we resolve to visit tomorrow night with a camera.

Saturday 18th August 2012

Another clear day dawns with the promise of warm weather. At 9am we hear a toot from the bread van. We can go to a part of the camp site to buy bread. The queue rapidly forms but fortunately we are near the head of the queue. We are seduced once again (we are soft touches) by pain du raisin, croissant, apple thingys and other breads. Last year I lost 4 kilogram on holiday (or maybe donated some to Ro) but I don’t think that will be the case this year.

The rest of the day is spent relaxing in the lovely sun, reading, eating bread and the odd chore. This involves putting some sealant in the bathroom and washing the van on my part and some hand washing on Ro’s part.

The day passes at a leisurely pace until 9pm when we again visit the pond. The young otters are eating grass and reeds at the edge of the pond. We wait silently and they emerge from the water. After a time, a third offspring joins them but the parents are nowhere in sight.

I sit on the grass about 4metres from them and over the next 15 minutes, they get closer and I slowly move closer. Eventually I am within 1 metre and can see them well. But something startles them and the scurry back to the safety of the water.

As we get up to leave, we see both parents a bit further around the pond. Ro has taken many photos and we hope there will be some good ones amongst them.

We return for a quiet night’s sleep.

Sunday 19th August 2012

The day is overcast. The question is: will it clear to another perfect day or should we move on?

By 11.30 it is still overcast so we decide to move on. After packing up, emptying and filling the appropriate tanks and generally mucking about, we are ready to pay our bill and go. But we have forgotten about the office closure until 2pm so we muck about a bit more then leave at 2. 15.

We are now in Brittany but I am wary about going further as we have to retrace to Osnabrueck and every km we proceed we have to retrace. Despite my concerns, Ro wants to see more of Brittany so we venture 120 km further.

We take the motorway some of the way to the coast and, as it is quite late, stop for lunch about 3 at a large parking area just off the motorway. Continuing on, we reach Perros Giurec, about 150 km from the west coast of Brittany.

Stopping at a scenic viewing point high up on a cliff, we overlook the sea and think how similar it is to looking out over the Whitsundays in Australia. The design of the houses is different but the spacing is more open than in other European seaside resorts ,more like those in Australian. In one of the bays there are hundreds of boats of various types.

We park the van in a residential street high on a cliff and walk along a road back from the cliff. The houses here are built of stone and more like those we expect to see. One is in the process of being done up. It looks like a costly and slow process, but would be great fun to do.

Walking past the van in the other direction, we take a path which may lead down to the sea. However as the track becomes more overgrown, we are less inclined to proceed so ultimately abandon it and return to the road. Walking further down we pass a hotel which is built into the steep face and has two floors overlooking the sea. We toy with the idea of staying a night in the hotel and enjoying the view but decide to move on.

Returning to the van, we set the GPS for Mont St Michel. Our thought is to arrive early to join the crowd to miss the crowd.

We drive until quite late on motorways. Brittany, we notice, is more undulating than our path from Germany has been. We labour up long hills and speed down the other side. It is getting late so we note a sign which says there is a motorhome park at the next exit. We take it but, as explained before, the French often provide a sign to a feature but then provide no more once that sign is followed. That is what happens this time so after ten minutes of driving back and forth looking for another sign, we abandon the search and go back to the motorway. Some way further on, another sign proclaims a park at the next exit and as I am quite tired by now, we try again. This time we find the park and drive into the entrance. It looks surprisingly familiar. Presumably the one design is used multiple times. But as we drive around, there is a trailer which was at the park earlier today. We have randomly returned to the same park!!! The odds against this seem huge but it has happened.

We set up for the night and have dinner. However there is a smell we don’t like and the park is huge and will soon be deserted. Somewhat refreshed we choose to continue on.

An hour and a half later and it is quite dark. I would prefer not to drive after dark especially as I am tired. We are only 16 km from Mont St Michel when we exit the freeway and decide we will look for a park. Turning off the road, we find a small road which may be promising. It is not far from the exit ramp and as it turns back, there is a place by the road which will do. The road has a “No Through Road” sign or something which seems like that so ther should be little or no traffic. We finally set up , heat the shower water, shower and go to bed.

Monday 20th August 2012

Awaking early we set off for Mont St Michel. We will have breakfast wnem we arrive at the day carpark.

We are there in 30 minutes. The car park area is mammoth. The car parks used to be closer to the Mont but they were submerged during high tide and the numbers of tourists have obviously swelled. The park for motorhomes, of which there are enormous numbers driving around Brittany, is at the end. We enter it and already there are relatively few spaces available. Parking we have breakfast then ride our bikes to the shuttle which takes us the three km to the Mont.

The shuttles are very clever in that there is a driver’s seat either end making it unnecessary for the bus to have a turning bay at either terminus. The place is obviously set up for huge numbers. At 9.30, there are lesser numbers but there are still queues to get on the bus and enter the Mont.

The Mont is a rocky island which is fully covered with medieval structures, and a few more recent ones. During the hundred year’s war, although it was besieged on numerous occasions, it was never breached. It recently celebrated its 1300^th anniversary. During this time it has been modified, added to and has served many purposes, from religious functions to prison functions, sometimes at the same time.

Admission to the walled area is free and when the tide is more than about 60 percent from low tide, there is only one narrow entrance. As high time changes, there must be times when huge queues await to enter through this door. As the tide approaches low tide, another larger door is available for use and later in the day, there are long queues to enter even this. But for now, the hoards are still getting organised so we have some time when it is just crowded, not super crowded.

Stairs are the order of the day. Other than one street at the base, some walkways and the rooms of the buildings themselves, there are stairs everywhere and steep stairs at that. We start the climb up to the cathedral, the must see part of the Mont. The engineering is, as always, awe inspiring. Although it is built on a solid rock which means foundations for the structure are provided by nature, only the central nave (I think the term is) is fully supported. All other buildings have to be supported from many metres below. During our tour we see eight 2 metre diameter columns which support parts of the cathedral. Some of the roofs are timber to lessen the load on the walls and ornate flying buttresses are used extensively.

As we walk through the many parts of the cathedral and support buildings we get an impression of life in medieval times. Finally we are disgorged through the obligatory souvenir shop from which we exit to a garden high above the water.

When we arrived, the water was lapping at the entrance to the Mont and the entry walkway was covered. At that time, half a kilometre from the Mont, an excavator floating on its own pontoons was dragging itself, using its long arm, out to do a days dredging. Now the excavator is sitting on its pontoons on the exposed sea bed. The pontoons have long caterpillar tracks which allow it to move on land. What it is doing is unclear but the way it is amphibious is interesting.

Now it is low tide and the water has receded as far as the eye can see . What was an island two kilometres away is now a protrusion from the sand and there are many shallow lakes of seawater.

It is a one kilometre walk around the Mont at low tide and one must take care not to be caught by the tide. It is said that the sea can return at the speed of a galloping horse in a 30 cm wave. This may be an exaggeration, but knowledge of the tide is recommended. It is now 2 hours past low tide so we should have ample time for the walk. Famous last words!

At this point I should say I was not in favour of the walk. At best it was likely to be a slippery, muddy walk in the blazing sun. However my complaints were ignored and we embarked on the walk. It was indeed slippery. There was what seemed to be mud but was probably very fine sand. The type which forms quicksand in the right places.

We walk a few hundred metres and come across a tiny chapel which is the opposite extreme of the cathedral we have just visited. It is close to high water and has for many centuries suffered the worst of what the sea can dish up. But it is still standing and in good condition although not in use.

We walk further around the Mont’s base, rock hopping where we can to avoid the mud. In little more than half an hour we are back at the start. We have not been inundated by the sea. We have not slipped over (although another little boy was not so lucky…..and was thoroughly enjoying the mud) and we have not been burnt to a crisp. In fact, it has been very enjoyable and we can say we have circumnavigated the Mont. Besides, my shoes now have a permanent mud stain to remind me of the Mont.

Taking the shuttle back to the bikes then the bikes to the van, we prepare to leave. But how do we pay to get the boom gate to raise? Various others scratch their heads also as there is a slot to insert the magnetically coded ticket we got entering but nowhere to insert a credit card, coins or notes. A German couple say they paid at the Information Office one kilometre back but for a moment or two their paid ticket will not raise the boom gate.. Bugger! Do we have to undo the bikes and ride back? However as we technically competent males crowd around the exit gate abusing the silly system, Ro reads some instructions, extrapolates to overcome their inadequacies and suggests we insert the ticket then a credit card into the same slot as there are some images of cards near the slot. Bingo! Insert the ticket and the machine shows 12.50 euro charge. Insert the card and……. Give me my card back you lousy French design-is-all-nevermind-practicality machine! But a few moments later the card is returned then the ticket. Now open the boom gate, machine Nothing. We try inserting the ticket again and voila the gate opens. The sequence in hindsight is quite obvious but to quite a few , admittedly male, people it was not obvious to start with.

Free at last! Our next stopping point will be Giverney where Monet’s house and garden is. It is 4 hours away so we plan to drive to within 1 hour, wild camp then arrive at Giverney at 9.30am tomorrow to avoid the rush. Unfortunately Tuesday is a busy day as Paris museums are closed Tuesday.

We drive for a couple of hours which only gets us 130 km or so. Travel is slow in Europe. After stopping for cheese and biscuits in a forest we continue as we would like to buy some provisions. Finally we happen on a Lidl but there are only 6 minutes to closing. A rapid bit of shopping and we are on our way again.

We find a forest turnoff where we can happily spend the night. After dinner and a shower we enjoy a quiet and warm night.

Tuesday 21st August 2012

Our waking up early almost goes to plan and we arrive at 10am. As we drive in, there are only 10 buses. By the time we are at the gate after parking there are about 20. It is going to be a touristy day.

Our plan is to stay here overnight if the place looks too crowded. The very friendly traffic direction person, on hearing we are Australian, proudly shows us trinkets from Australia in his car although he has not been there. However none of the stuffed toys depicts an Australian animal so he may say the same if we were Bulgarian or Armenian. He does confirm that Tuesday is heaviest and Wednesday is lightest and that we can stay overnight in the carpark. And amazingly it is free. Later the tourism office says she thought we could not stay overnight but if the attendant said we could that probably we could. More suggestion du regulation.

There is quite a lot to explore in Giverney. As well as Monet, Giverney was home to an artist’s colony for perhaps 100 years. There is also a medieval area and countless galleries and museums cashing in on the Monet legacy.

We spend the morning walking around getting our bearings. Walking up to Monet’s garden we get the impression (what else would you get regarding Monet) that it will be wall to wall tourists so we will visit tomorrow.

It is quite hot so we visit a fast running creek where there is a bust of Monet in a position supposedly one that Monet found very inspirational. It is not hard to see why Monet and other artists would have found Giverney and its surrounds inspirational. The place oozes character: but whether this is a result of the town itself or tweeking of the town after the fact is unclear. It does have a lot of natural character.

As we walked up we had seen a café we liked the look of so decide to have coffee there. We ask the waiter for one of the nicely decorated table under one of the shading umbrellas. For lunch? No, just coffee. We instead are directed to one of 5 undecorated tables in the blazing sun. My wife wanted some shade, says I. A shrug of the shoulders and sorry is all the response we were given. Ah, the French. We instead get some takeaway and go to the creek where it is shaded and cool.

We want to check emails so ask at the Tourist Office. They do not have any but one museum has. We go there and pick up an email or two then have lunch there. The food is very tasty and nicely presented. We spend an hour in the cool, enjoying the French decorations and the food.

After lunch we walk further toward the medieval area but decide we will ride there later when it is cooler. The small, cool, fast flowing river beckons and Ro soaks her hot, tired feet.

Returning to the van, we open up to cool it a little. We contemplate visiting Monet’s garden today as the sky has become overcast and it may rain tomorrow. However it is 5.30 pm and the gardens close at 6. We will get in early tomorrow.

A bit later we ride back to Monet’s house and inspect the plan of the garden. We had not realised that half of his garden is across the road from the house and on the same side as where we have parked the van. The stream in which Ro soaked her feet has first passed through Monet’s garden. Maybe fortunate we weren’t upstream.

Returning to the van, we see six or seven other campers here for the night so we are happy it is OK. There is the odd train which passes by, but otherwise it should be quiet.

Wednesday 22nd August 2012

We awake at 8am and have breakfast in order to be at the gardens before 9.30am, opening time.

Instead of multitudes of buses, there are multitudes of motorhomes. We arrive at Monet’s house and are about 10^th in line but have 10 or 15 minutes wait until the doors open.

The gardens are extensive, with the largish house at the top edge of the property, running along the street. There is another parallel road at the bottom of the garden, about 70 metre down the slope. On the other side of that road is the water lily garden. There is a gate in the fence of the upper garden and one opposite in the fence of the water lily garden across the road. A pedestrian crossing links them. However some years ago, an underpass was built between the two so the road need not be negotiated in passing between the two. Monet spent 30 years developing the garden. He was also passionate about Japanese art and there are dozens of pieces adorning his walls…more so than his own paintings in most rooms except his painting studio.

We start by looking through the house. There are not too many people here yet so movement through the house is reasonably unencumbered. The main entrance is off a narrow terrace running the length of the house An entrance has a stairway to the second floor and a room off to the left which is predominantly pale blue with darker blue highlighting lines. The rooms on the lower floor all have some predominant colour. Striking yellow in the dining room to the right of the entrance hall and blue in the kitchen beyond Continuing through the blue room to the left we can go down half a flight of stairs to Monet’s studio but it has a group of tourists so we instead go right up a narrow flight of stairs to the bedrooms above.

The main bedroom, which was not Monet’s, has two large open windows to the garden. The view is magnificent The atmosphere in the whole house is evocative; it is wonderfully serene for me and full of colour and vitality for Ro. It is not hard to imagine it when Monet lived there.

The house is dusty rose pink with beige trim and large amounts of bright green; all sympathetic to the colourful flower laden gardens. It is quite long and thin; only one room wide. The position of the staircases means that one exits a room into a small hallway and directly down the stairs. Alternatively we can walk from one room to the next without any external corridor. The far end of the house upstairs is not open.

Returning to the entrance hallway we look through the dining room and kitchen, both ecorated in the way Monet had them. Walking to the other end we walk down half a level to his studio which has 60 replica paintings in it. Ironically, there are more people than before.

Now for the real reason for the visit: the garden and water lily pond. While he spent 18 years developing his magnificent garden, the water lily pond he bought as a separate piece of land. He did transform that area also but he did not build the pond. The stream we were paddling in yesterday runs through this land and two sluice gates control the level of the pond.

The house garden has pathways running away from the house along garden beds which are absolutely brimming with colourful flowers. Some paths are blocked off. Ro is in photographic heaven and we spend an hour or so just soaking up both the literal and figurative atmosphere; the scent being overpowering in some areas. Monet’s paintings capture the brilliance of the garden with his masterful portrayal of light.

The underpass to the lily pond projects us into the world of his waterlily paintings. His famous bridge is framed by willows and the pond just as we see in his paintings. Walking around the paths is surreal and evocative. Ro even manages to get a few shots without people, which we will treasure forever.

After 4 hours in the house and gardens we exit via the shop which was his second studio in which he did his large waterlily canvasses. Two replicas, probably 10 metre by 1.5 metre are on display.

Finally we exit and eat lunch at a café opposite the house which was there in Monet’s time. Monet lived from 1840 to 1926.

Back at the van, we get on the road to reach our camp, about 20km south west of Paris. From here we expect to visit Versailles and Fontainebleau and maybe the cathedral at Chartres.

We check in about 7pm but by the time we empty waste tanks and fill water tanks, it is 8 before we are set up.

Thursday 23rd August 2012

Today promises to be clear, sunny and warm so we will spend the day here. The pool is a very comfortable temperature, presumably solar heated although the solar collectors are not evident. There is also a sauna, steam room and gym. And the large pool, which is 2.3 metre deep at one end, has a diving board which is always fun.

On top of that, the site is 47 hectares, a significant amount of which is bush so we can ride our bikes or walk.

Throughout the day we manage to use all the facilities, albeit rather a cursory visit to the gym. I tried to do a leg raise on a wall frame and discovered that my six pack is only now a plastic frame as 5 of the pack contents seem to be missing.

Later in the day, Ro decides my hair needs cutting for Felix’s wedding and doing it now will allow it to ‘settle down’. What she means by this is that a hair cut with me balancing on a plastic bucket outside while she uses small paper scissors to adjust the shape of my head may not give the result she is used to at home. As I am not a patient patient, I read a book, periodically blowing tufts of hair from the pages. The next reader of the book may find it is moulting.

After dinner we go for a walk in the fading light. Venturing into the forest seems a bit ambitious so we stick to the crushed rock path which is light coloured and quite visible. This proves to be a good choice as it is quite dark by the time we return. Getting lost in the dark would not be an enjoyable experience.

Having considered all our logistical options we have decided to visit Chartres cathedral tomorrow and leave our Versailles visit until we are in Paris as travel there is easy. We will visit Fontainebleau after that and work out our campsites as we go.

Friday 24th August 2012

We wake early but go back to sleep again and do not leave early as intended. Still, as we are now going to Chartres instead of Versailles, time is less important. This proves to be useful as in programming Thomasina last night, I set her for Versailles and by this morning I have forgotten we had changed our destination after I set her up. As such, we faithfully follow her instructions to Versailles until we are 10 km away and have not seen any Chartres signs. A quick reprogram and we are back on track for Chartres. Pity it is in a direction significantly different from Versailles.

Finally we approach Chartres by 12.30 and see the edifice of the cathedral looming on the horizon. It is huge and dwarfs all around it.

We see a few motor homes parked; a sure sign that a tourist attraction is near. They are a bit haphazardly parked but we try to park better to allow others room to park. It is 1euro90 per hour but as the French have 12 until 2 off for lunch, the parking meters do not charge for parking during this period. It is 12.30 but when we insert a 2 euro coin the meter shows we are paid up until 15.03. Small compensation for the annoying times we have tried to buy a product at 1pm and find the shops closed.

The town of Chartres around the cathedral consists of buildings all 100s of years old. The cobblestone road passes over the obligatory stream, which presumably was the reason for the town’s location, and up quite a steep hill before steps lead to the cathedral.

As I have said many times before, I am dumbstruck at the engineering, architecture and size of thinking that has gone into these buildings. To imagine this structure and convey those thoughts to the artisans without the aid of modern techniques never fails to amaze me. The precision with which the stone masonry was executed without sophisticated modern tools is beyond my comprehension. Had I not seen such things, I would not have believed them possible for the times.

The cathedral is massive with huge flying buttresses and vaulted ceilings. The floor looks to be original and it seems somewhat surprising that the precision in the carvings, columns and building blocks does not seem to be mirrored in the stone flooring, which is quite rough and uneven.

As we enter the cathedral, there is organ music being played. The low note pipes must be 10 to 15 metres long. They are set high in the centre of the cathedral and the sound fills every part of the building.

One end of the building has been renovated and is clean and light in colour. The stained glass windows fill the area with light which is reflected from the pale stone walls and ceiling. The support arches in the vaulted ceilings terminate in stone annuluses which will eventually be gilded and painted. A few are already complete and look stunning. The stone carving is intricate and exquisite.

There is a labyrinth on the stone floor of about 15 metre diameter. People with bare feet are prompted to walk around the labyrinth and pray as they move toward the centre and back out again. Unfortunately I am standing within the labyrinth before I realise the participants are not just tourists aimlessly strolling about. I hastily retreat and leave them to their task.

We leave around 2 pm and walk around the outside, still marvelling at the structure. When we arrive back at the van, we have a late lunch and set off for Fontainebleau.

It has started to rain and we drive along wet slippery roads for one and a half hours before reaching Fontainebleau. We pass the palace which has closed.

We need some provisions as we have not seen our favourite Lidl stores for a few days. We settle for an Intermarche supermarket which is some kilometres away. It is grubby and not very well stocked with products we want but it has to do for now.

Returning to Fontainebleau we look out for aires or camp sites but see none. Fortunately there is plenty of forest here so we will drive a bit to find a wild campsite. Hopefully not too wild.

We find a parking spot in which another motorhome has set up for the night and join them. It seems likely to be quiet and the rain has stopped. Hopefully tomorrow will be clear for our Fontainebleau tour.

Saturday 25th August 2012

The night was very quiet with just a little rain. We wake early and drive to Fontainebleau so we can get a parking place.

The parking here is far different from places such as Sansouci or Mont San Michel or even Giverney which have acres of space for hundreds of cars. If there are such parks, we do not see them. Instead we park in a payante area right in front of the chateau for 1 euro per hour. Once again we get 5 hours for 4 euro as lunch time is free. We have until 14.00 on the meter.

First we have breakfast in the van then walk over to the chateau. It is 10 euro for admission and an audio commentary; very good value compared with other tourist attractions. The commentary is detailed with 35 areas covered.

The chateau has 1900 rooms. We expect there will be some we will not see. Probably a good thing as the 60 or so we do see takes 4 hours.

The chateau has been altered, renovated, demolished and rebuilt many times over 800 years. Various monarchs and emperors have left their marks; some with their insignias placed monotonously frequently. One, Francois !st had the letter F placed at intervals of 1 metre all along one room and elsewhere in the palace. Little wonder the revolutionaries referred to them as the effing monarchy before removing them, admittedly long after Francois, but the theme of untrammelled opulence proved to be their downfall. There are liberal Hs for Henry 4^th and Ns for Napoleon 1^st.

The opulence goes on for room after room, with coffered ceilings (ceilings with deep three dimensional reliefs), tapestries, paintings, frescos, panelling, parquetry and loads of gilding on furniture and wall ornaments. If I was awe struck by the size and ornamentation of the Chartres cathedral, I am equally in awe of the size and opulence of these buildings.

It is also interesting to see in some exquisitely renovated rooms that there are some parts which have not been restored such as window frames and the odd wall section which generally would go unnoticed by all but the stickiest of sticky beaks. It gives some idea of how much work has gone into the restoration.

Fontainebleau was not damaged in the revolution although some furniture was removed. Despite this, a great deal of the furniture of the time remains. The small apartments used by Napoleon and Josephine are largely how they were in their time, including the furniture.

We are pleasantly surprised by the small number of tourists. Versailles has 15 million visitors or over 45,000 per day averaged; more in summer. Fontainebleau which is larger and arguably better presented and restored does not have the hordes.

We exit the chateau about 1pm and go back to the van for a rest and refreshments. There are notably few eating places within the palace so we have lunch in the van before returning to wander around the gardens for an hour or so. The gardens are huge with an artificial canal 1.2 km long and various other waterways, one of which is a carp pond where very large carp swim with no fear of humans.

We leave by 3.45 with 1 ½ hours to get to our camp near Troyes. When we arrive there are a few fun and games in getting through the locked gate, one of which involves driving to the nearby village to find a key, but with some perseverance we get in and set up for the night. The Seine river is nearby and we walk to it expecting a huge waterway. Instead it is a tributary and only 10 or 12 metres wide. Maybe if tomorrow is warm we will swim in it. On a hot day I would like to be in Seine.

Before bed, we use the shower complex. We were given three ‘douche’ tokens which will give us warm showers. Although the token gives us a four minute shower, the showers also have a timer button; Technically known as a double whammy. However, there is one shower which has, as well as the timer jet blast, another shower rose which is large and friendly and does not exfoliate the skin during use. We choose the friendly rose. Another complication is that Ro wants to wash her hair so we need to use two tokens. Unfortunately, a sign which says (in 3 languages) to dry hands before inserting tokens is ignored, so the second token sticks somewhere in the timer and we have no more hot water. One of the pleasures of returning home will be untimed, hot showers.

Sunday 26th August 2012

The day is not going to be particularly warm but we want a day off anyway.

We spend the day reading in the sun and walking. There is also a little carpentry I want to do and there is audible evidence that someone is using carpentry tools. Taking my marked piece of wood over to the sounds, I ask the sound maker if he speaks English. He does not. This is reminiscent of last year trying to explain a jig saw. This time, I can pick up a saw he was using and show the marks on my wood. He indicates to wait a moment and brings back an electric circular saw. However I explain in hand movements that the electric saw gives a splintered edge and he seems to understand. Instead he brings out two trestles on which I can saw the wood and then proceeds to hold the bit I am sawing off. This jams the saw but fortunately, once cut he resumes his tasks and leaves me to it.

With a “merci” and a “je suis desolate, ne parle pas francais” (I am sorry, I don’t speak French), to which he responds “no problem” , we part and I fit the cut timber.

Part of the timber was to seal below the fridge where I suspect some fumes are being sucked into the cab when windows are down. We will discover tomorrow that this has helped and my driving fatigue is considerable reduced, presumably due to the lower concentration of carbon monoxide.

Sunday dinner is a bit light on as we had not found any provisions, but we cope. We fill up on vegetables and soup and feel great for it.

Monday 27th August 2012

It is not exactly warm but we have promised ourselves we will swim in the Seine, or at least a tributary thereof. Although it is very cold, we have a quick swim to fulfil our promise. The positive is that as we get out, our bodies are glowing with the blood circulation. We return for breakfast.

As our camp site has wifi available, we take the opportunity to search for a castle in France which is being built today using only medieval building techniques. It is only 120 km from where we are; unfortunately in a south westerly direction when we are heading north east toward Osnabrueck.

We vacillate as to whether we want to add 250km to our journey. As the day seems overcast, we decide to go but as the sky clears we decide to stay. Vacillation indeed.

While we decide, we will go back to the lovely, crystal clear river with our books and banana lounges.

The bank we went to this morning is still in shade so we go upstream to where a beach is in full sun. There is a small island which we wade out to through shallow but fast flowing water. The water on the other side is very fast and walking in it is difficult. It is not possible to swim against and just standing in it causes the small stones underfoot to be washed away leaving one’s feet in a deepening hole.

As Ro photographs rocks through the water and I play cat and mouse with the current, she calls out ‘snake!’. An 800 or 900mm snake is sunning itself on the pebbles, unaware of Ro’s presence. Although we believe snakes in Europe are non venomous, we would prefer to keep clear of them. The problem is that the snake has seen Ro approaching, before she is aware of its presence, and has taken off into the water just up stream of me. At this stage I am not sure where the snake is, however I now see it swimming rapidly across the fast flowing stream just metres away. How it manages to get to the other side without landing on me is amazing, but I am pleased it does. From the way it is swimming, it is too.

By 1pm we reluctantly decide to leave this sunny paradise and hit the road. Our plan is to drive to Guedelon, the castle site, wild camp somewhere and visit tomorrow. That gives us Wednesday to Friday to get to Osnabrueck.

The drive to Guedelon is very picturesque, as usual. We find a Lidl along the way and stock up on provisions. This is pleasing as we have not seen one for a week or so and our last shopping at Intermrache left us thinking we will not shop there again.

Arriving at Guedelon by 5.30, we look around the outside of the site. Although it closes at 7pm, we don’t think there is sufficient time to appreciate t so we will return tomorrow.

The tourist office on site gives us a map of some places we can stay and, as we don’t require any facilities other than those in the van, we opt for a park opposite a lake. There are three or four other vans here and it will do for the night.

Tuesday 28th August 2012

Leaving our overnight stay by 9am , we travel back 10 km to Guedelon. There has been a little light rain which has now stopped and should serve to damp down the dust without making things muddy.

At Guedelon we park with ease as we are here before the crowds, although already the car park is filling up. They get 300,000 visitors per year which is important as the income helps to fund the work.

The project to build a 13^th century castle using only techniques of the time was proposed well before the laying of the first stone in June 1997. Since then, the castle, notionally commenced in 12 28, has progressed using only the methodologies available at the time, including those developed in medieval times during the construction period. The only concessions to modern technology are OH & S issues, which require bolts in the wooden scaffolding, steel capped boots, hard hats and safety glasses and some engineering assurances that the castle will not collapse!! Despite that, in our visit we saw nothing that hinted at modern day, other than tourists with cameras. Admittedly, the odd medieval worker had a walkie talkie strapped to his hip and at the entrance, ye old 2D bar scanner appeared not from medieval times.

Many trades are used on site. We saw rope making, basket weaving, dyeing, tile making, stone masonry, carpentry, hoisting of stones, hauling of timber and others. All were using medieval techniques.

All the staff are prepared to explain their trades, albeit somewhat limited in English. Some of the mysteries of building cathedrals are explained by our observations, but the long, straight, perfectly crafted column stones are still a mystery to me. What I did learn was that any continuous stonework feature was built at the stone shaper’s workplace and stones numbered for reassembly. Furthermore, all stones carry the artisan’s mark as payment was for each piece which fitted correctly.

We start by walking to the castle which is probably half built. It was started in 1997 and is expected to be complete by 2020 The finished building will include 18,000 cubic metres of stone weighing 60,000 tonnes. All of those 60,000 tonnes are hoisted using 4 metre diameter wheels powered by a man walking within the wheel. Once again, OH and S requirements mean hoisting ropes are certified ropes and the brakes on the wheels ensure safety of the workers. However, our observation is that in Australia’s nanny states, such a project would be impossible. The public is protected against injury but is allowed access to areas which Australia would prohibit. Frequently we have seen evidence that the litigious society which Australia has become is at considerable cost to the cultural wealth of the society.

We walk up extremely narrow stone staircases and spiral stairs to rough hewn timber floors and stone floors over vaulted ceilings in the tower. We observe stone masons laying stone blocks and infilling the 2 metre thick walls. We see loads being hoisted up the side of the castle using a two wheel hoist.

There is a serenity over the site which partially comes from a total absence of any noise from power tools or motors and partially is a result of everything being done at a slow pace. No one is very hurried because everything takes as long as it takes. Maybe in medieval times there was a greater sense of urgency, but I suspect that was not the case.

After looking through the castle, we walk to the other parts of the village. All things in the village are geared toward servicing the building of the castle and the quiet sense of purpose is palpable.

We spend three and a half hours walking around the site and come away with a better appreciation of how buildings were built in those times. My feeling of awe is undiminished nonetheless. We have seen the German emplacements on the Normandy coast built during WWII and these after 70 years are showing signs of decay. Conversely we have seen buildings 1000 years old which still stand. Maybe our technology has improved but our ability to build lasting structures may not have.

Leaving Guedelon we return to the 21^st century. Well not quite as we have a 20^th century escargot de wheels.

We need to think about being in Osnabrueck by Friday, 750 km away, so we head for Luxembourg. However, it is a bit far for today so we lower our sites to a camp near Nancy. Nevertheless, it is 4 hours drive away, which with stops will take 6.

We pass through more rolling plains and picturesque forests and villages and eventually reach our site by 8pm. The gate is closed so we toot, as instructed on a sign, and fortunately a friendly Belgium man arrives at the gate. After searching for some French words, the man asks if we speak English and things are easier. Speaking with a fluent English speaker is a pleasure following the stilted conversations we have had over the past weeks. Having French plates on the van is not an advantage as most people expect that we speak French! After a 6 hour trip, it is nice to be able to set up for the night.

Wednesday 29th August 2012

This morning we will visit Nancy on the advise of the Noel, the Belgium man. It is about 30 km away.

We arrive at Nancy about 10.30. It is a medium city of 350,000 people and gets a very good write up in Lonely Planet. When we head for a city, we ask Thomasina to take us to the city centre. Sometimes city centres are somewhat unexpected. We may endup in a small laneway with a dumpster at the end when she proclaims we have reached our destination. When this happens we do not take this as a disparaging comment on our instruction following skills; just some glitch in the software. Another glitch is that she says “leave the motorway”, sounding triumphant for some unknown reason, generally when we take a motorway! Very odd.

There is a parking area about 2.5 km from the city centre and we consider parking there and cycling. But he who hesitates more than one microsecond in a motorhome is doomed to miss the parking spot. Our hesitation is up around the 5 second mark so we travel on.

As we head down increasingly congested roads, I get the feeling motothomes would be better elsewhere. That feeling is considerably enhanced when we go down a one way street, cross a ‘trams only’ crossroad end enter a street with roadworks which leads us to a tunnel…….down which we are not going to fit. The other side of the street which normally takes vehicles higher than 2.4 metres is blocked off with plastic barriers and the height warning device looks vicious…….heavy looking rods hanging down from a crossbeam. We stop. What to do? Reversing ½ km is not good idea. We can’t go down the tunnel. Roadworks block our way forward. Is this where our journey ends? A bit like the children’s story of the overenthusiastic steamshovel who digs herself into a building basement and became entombed in the building which is built over her. Will our escargot de wheels become an objet d’art on the pavement?

A helpful worker, seeing our predicament, moves one of the barriers and we drive to the other side of the barrier. As we pass under the height warning device, it sounds like a wind chime made of lamp posts as each one clunks its way across our roof. Stopping out of the way of cars, I climb out to peruse our options. Ro thoughtfully turns on the hazard lights, just in case any of the dozens of cars and hundreds of pedestrians have not noticed the chaos we have created. Ro retreats to the back of the van to avoid embarrassment, feigning helpful inclusion in the problems solution by peering unobtrusively out the back window.

There is a delivery truck also with his hazard lights flashing. The driver is near his truck. By way of explanation, I mumble something about my GPS having brought me here. Although he does not speak English, he indicates that he is in the same predicament! Not a delivery truck after all…..just another victim of the roadworks.

We are now comrades in finding a solution. Walking back to the crossroad 50 metre behind, we decide we can use the tramway to reach the next vehicular crossroad. He moves a plastic barrier and starts reversing with flashers on when there is a convenient break in the traffic. Reaching the tramway, he moves out of the way of through traffic and waits for a tram free break. We likewise reverse through the barrier opening with Ro watching through the back window for cars, pedestrians and trams. What excitement! What fun! What a nuisance!

Now we both wait for our moment; which is a reasonable length moment as trams are not particularly frequent. Fortunately the tram route is paved similarly to the roadway so in a moment we are at the traffic lights of the next intersection. After a long moment as we wonder whether only trams cause the lights to change, they turn to green and we exit trying to look like a tram. The looks on the pedestrian faces suggests we failed.

But as a consolation prize we are going in the correct direction it turns out as we stumble upon a parking area only a short distance from Stanislas square which we wanted to see. The square is light and clean, beautifully paved and wonderfully restored. There are gilded gates at each corner and the area is not teeming with tourists.

Another item on the agenda is the Musee des Beaux Arts, the museum of fine art. Its entry is off the square. The babe is charged 6 euro but the old geeza gets an OG special price of 4 euro. The babe doesn’t get the special price for a year or two yet.

The building and especially the spiral (really a helical) staircase justify the 10 euro in themselves. They have been restored and look magnificent, with two superb chandeliers hanging at different levels. They have taken a slight liberty in painting the wall to one metre above the steps a fake marble, but it is done so well that the effect is stunning.

We start on the top floor as suggested by the very helpful and friendly guy at the ticket desk. Funny. I would have sworn he was French. The paintings work from 12^th century on the third floor to contemporary art on the ground floor and glassware in the basement. Ro is particularly interested in the glassware but we will look at the other artwork first.

The 12^th century paintings are the usual dark religious paintings where everyone looks grief stricken. Understandable given the circumstances of the foundation of their church but other than the odd serene face, there is not much joy, the intended result of ones religious beliefs, evident. We pass through this floor and the next admiring the skill of the painters but not gaining a lot of soul uplifting.

The ground floor is a jolt into the 21^st century.. There is modern sculpture, modern art and avant guard architecture. Such things make one think a great deal. Admittedly, the paintings upstairs also make me think about the nature of mans desire to understand his creator.

Continuing down to the basement, there is a surprise in store. At some time in the fairly recent past, the foundations of a (Roman?) building were discovered and are displayed here, in situ. Having visited Guedelon and learned about tradesmens’ marks it is fascinating to see the marks on the stones, presumably facing outward as these are foundations. The mark of a particular tradesman can be seen on many stones and it seems to personalise what is otherwise an inanimate object.

While I marvel at the stonework, Ro marvels at the glassware. Before leaving we watch a film about the famous glassmaker and designer Daum and his glass creations presented by a mellow and soothing voice, unfortunately in French.

Time to hit the road. We want to get to Luxembourg tonight and Borken tomorrow night. Driving by the usual non motorway roads will take us 3 ½ hours. However, just as we leave, Ro sees a building she would like to photograph. She returns 15 minutes later, having discovered the ‘old town’ of Nancy which is middle ages. There is also a ‘new town’ which is 16^th century which we did not see. We had better return to Nancy to look further. Lonely Planet was right. Nancy is a gem.

We travel through France to the border seeing what we have come to expect from France. Picturesque villages and countryside. Entering Luxembourg we rapidly see a change to the villages: seemingly more modern and ordered. The countryside is green rolling hills and forests.

Eventually we reach where our camp site should be. But it isn’t and despite searching for 20 minutes, we cannot locate it. Instead we find a nice secluded forest path and that becomes our camp for the night.

Thursday 30th August 2012

Today we want to get to Borken where we stayed in early August. We will stay there for two nights then travel to the wedding 70km away.

We will travel through Luxembourg, a bit of Belgium then into Germany so we have breakfast at our camp site then later will have morning tea in Belguim and lunch in Germany. Perhaps no different from being near the corners of South Australia, Victoria and NSW and having a meal in each but the differences between countries is much greater than the differences between Australian states.

We drive through Luxembourg (country of not city of, although the city was only 40 km away and maybe we should have visited) then enter Belgium. This Belgium seems like a different Belgium from the one we visited earlier in the month. Houses are neater, more colourful and more picturesque, as is the countryside.

At some point we quietly slip into Germany, only noticing we are here by the increase in German numberplates.

When Scot stayed for a year in Germany, he stayed at a town called Kerpen. Ro recalls that it is near our intended path to Birken so we deviate slightly to look at the place he spent his year. On arrival, we call Scot by Skype and surprise his by saying where we are. We also get the address of his host parents, Melanie and Peter, thinking we could call in for a few minutes to introduce ourselves. We had spoken to them by telephone when he was here, but that was 16 years ago.

Driving to their house we wonder if anyone will be home. We are able to park the van at the end of the street which is fortunate as the streets are very narrow and winding. After ringing the doorbell, a male answers the door. “Peter?” we ask. His expression is rather surprised until we say we are Rosemary and Derek, Scot’s parents. His face breaks into a wide grin and he warmly invites us in and calls Melanie, who is upstairs. We apologise for arriving unannounced but Peter says it is no problem for them.

Melanie appears and gives us a big hug. She says she has followed Scot’s progress on Facebook including his recent travels in Germany. She would have liked to catch up with him and hopes maybe next time. Fortunately both Peter and Melanie speak very good English and we spend an enjoyable hour and a half with them. We thank them for their hospitality to us today and to Scot 16 years ago……perhaps a bit belatedly but I would hope we did so then too. We part by inviting them to stay with us in Melbourne some time, which Melanie says she would love to do but which she cannot forsee in the near future. However life has funny twists and turns so who knows what the future holds.

We continue another two hours and arrive at our camp site. One of the luxuries of this site is temperature adjustable untimed showers with no buttons to press. Given the last 10 weeks of showers with some or all of those devices, this is luxury indeed. And we know where the camp site is so that has to be an advantage.

Another positive is a huge pool for Ro to swim in all by herself. The reason she has it to herself is that it is bloody freezing, with a water temperature of 21 degrees! Mind you we did swim in one pool at 20 degrees and that was cold!

Friday 31st August 2012

Today is our first cold, wet and miserable day. Ro suggests it may be good practice for next year in England

We can’t complain as it is the first bit of continuous rain we have had this trip. We spend a bit of time at our camp site reading and playing Black Lady with two people. The game is a bit self evident with only two people. If I don’t have a card, Ro does so the early part of the game has no surprises. After one game, we decide perhaps it is not the game for two people.

Late morning we go into the town of Borken. I am suffering withdrawal from OBI hardware stores. The normal symptoms :bad dreams, palpitations when I see and orange on beige sign, dryness of mouth when I think we may be near one. Thus it is with considerable pleasure that I see OBI listed in TomTom as a shop under Points of Interest. What I want is an outside light to replace the one removed by a friendly tree in Middelburg. However the English speaking assistant shows me a halogen lamp holder which is not quite what I wanted. Nothing else available. A slake my hardware thirst by buying some octopus straps for the bike cover. One more thought though: we still have the dead auto house battery to dispose of. I mention this and am shown new batteries. Once again not what I wanted. Ho Hum.

Returning to the van, we drive back to our camp site and await the end of the rain until later in the day when we decide it is cold enough to light our heater. Soon the van is warm but somewhat smelly due to burning dust. Outside, steam is issuing from the temporary aluminium can on the heater chimney, to the amusement or maybe consternation of passers by.

Once nicely warmed we turn off the heater and settle in for the night. Ro prepares a dinner of vegetables and something called ‘white sausages’ , the true identity of which we don’t know; but they are very tasty especially when covered with a sauce concoction of apple, red wine, tomato paste and curry of Ro’s design.

Saturday 1stSeptember 2012: Kathrin and Felix’s wedding.

Today the sun is shining and the sky is clear. And we have to leave. Why couldn’t yesterday have been like this? But the good news is it is perfect for the wedding.

We don’t have to leave until 12.30 so we soak up the sun in the morning. Ro has a swim in the pool which has cooled off since last time to 19 degrees. I pass. Last swim before Melbourne. The sun is good because I managed to contract a cold a day or two ago, which is nearly gone, and the sunshine will boost vitamin D which will help my immune system.

Before leaving, Ro has started doing her nails and I wash my hair to prevent the ‘lil Abner look I get from sleeping on wet hair as I did last night. We leave on time, filling with water and emptying the waste tanks as we have to be self sufficient for the next three nights.

The drive to Kloster Bentlage, where the wedding and reception will take place, is about 1 hour 10 min. However we have to do a few things along the way and arrive at 3pm for a 4 pm ceremony.

We have 15 minutes to get ready. We had not expected to be able to attend the wedding due to time constraints so had not brought appropriate clothing. Ro has bought a scarf and some earings to augment a dress and top she has which will be appropriate. I have a shirt and dressy looking jeans and we have procured a coat which goes well with the shirt and pants. However we did not find an appropriate tie. Without wishing to spend our time looking for ties, Ro suggests a Chanel silk scarf which she can fold like a tie and that is what we do. Daarling! It looks Oh So Paris.

After changing into our finery, the walk from the car park to the Kloster, a monastery built in medieval times, is quite long. Although I suggest we ride bikes, Ro is inclined to think arriving at a wedding on a bike is not the correct image. As it turns out, arriving on a bike would have been more dignified that arriving barefoot and limping as turned out to be the case. Ro being of the female persuasion, had shoes which were supposed to look good rather than protect her feet. Males, well this male, labour under the apparently mistaken belief that shoes are for protection rather than adornment. To be fair, Ro had considered this and had brought walking shoes….. which were also adornments rather than protection devices. Afterall, who would have seen the hiking boots during the 1 km walk to the kloster anyway?

We arrived with time to spare: 30 seconds to be precise. Kathrin and Felix shoo us in and follow a respectable distance behind.

The ceremony, to our surprise, was in German so we missed a bit. It was the bit after “Willkommen”. There was some humour in the ceremony, which we missed, and some solemnity, which we missed, and some kissing and tears from the bride, which we got. Also there was some singing which was in English. We got that.

After the ceremony we walk, or hobble in Ro’s case, to the reception which is in a wing of the Kloster. We learn some German traditions for Hochzeit, which literally translates as High Time (no reflection on the fact they have lived together for four years). The ceremony sounds similar to those we know . A poem about Love is….without…. and assorted bits and pieces. After the ceremony, heart shaped balloons are released into the air and a group photo of all those present is take. Later we learn that periodically during the reception, rabble rousers hit their glasses with a spoon and when enough are making a racket the bride and groom must stand up and kiss. This happens at an orderly intervasl at the beginning, becomes somewhat disorderly as the evening progresses, maybe due to libations consumed, then tapers off as this effect continues and people are insufficiently coordinated to tap in unison.

We have drinks on the grass and chat with other guests and the happy couple. Felix has assured us that 80 percent of those present would be fairly fluent in English and that proves to be the case. I feel a bit guilty that they are forced into our language as we don’t speak theirs sufficiently well. Was I to speak in German, they would rapidly realise that the effort on their part to speak English is significantly less that the effort required to understand my German.

We chat with one of Felix’s supervisors about mosquito kidneys and other such matters as normally arise at such gatherings and with others about their trips to Australia, which, as is often the case, display how little we, as residents, have seen of Australia.

At 7pm we go into the tables for the meal. The tables look beautiful. A particularly memorable touch is that Felix, who has quite a green thumb (although he washed it off for the wedding) has propagated a small plant for each guest. Each is placed in a shot glass with a ribbon and name tag. We have been placed next to Hanna, Felix’s aunt, who has spent some time in Australia on a few occasions. Her plant looks quite like a marijuana plant. Felix explains that he had to raise the money for the reception somehow, but he may have been joking.

Another different aspect to the night is when we are given numbered parts of a photo which we have to reproduce with coloured pencils on a sheet on an artist’s easel. By the end of the night, there is a reproduction by the guests of the original photo. A bit of fun but not of hugely artistic merit. One of the guests, who is a professional artist, adds a dab here and a smudge there to improve the overall look. However he has an uphill battle and the resultant portrait bears little resemblance to the happy couple ….. thankfully. In Germany a couple must obtain a license to marry. Had they looked like the portraits, the license may not have been granted.

The evening is hugely enjoyable and we are so glad we made the effort to come. By 1.30 the reception is still powering along but we are aware that we have 1100 km to cover in the next 2 days so we better get to bed. As Ro cannot afford to be lame in Paris, I suggest I go and get a bike and bring it back. After walking back to the van, I decide I can drive to the Kloster.

The 750 metre one lane road/footpath to the Kloster is well lit but has few places to allow two vehicles to pass. Hopefully, at 2am there will not be as much traffic as earlier. Fortunately that proves to be the case. Except for the caterer’s van which exits as I am entering. He pulls over, perhaps imagining that the van can, at my instruction, collapse into a playing card thickness. As luck would have it, I have just passed a driveway and I can reverse a few meters into it and we can pass. Driving down to the Kloster, I return to Ro, spend half an hour saying goodbys then drive back along the path, fortunately meeting no more vehicles.

We return to our original park next to the zoo and there we spend what remains of the night.

Sunday 2nd September 2012

We have 1075 km to Charroux and two days to get there. Piece of cake in Oz but not so easy here. After breakfast we are on the road by 9.30.

The fuel price in Luxemburg was 1.32 euro per litre compared with 1.55 in Germany. Our route looks like it passes through Luxemburg so maybe we can refuel there and save a bit. Sounds like a plan. One problem is knowing which country we are in. Border markings are often a bit light on and we rely heavily on the number of numberplates which bear the country’s letter. However the more significant problem is we will not make it without more fuel and it looks like we don’t pass through Luxemburg anyway. So much for the plan.

Instead we exit the motorway to get fuel while still in Germany. We toss up whether we will turn to the village to the right or left at the intersection. We choose right.

Driving a few km into the town we ask directions of some people going to a fete. There is no fuel in this town. Next town has fuel. However, this being Sunday, the servo in the next town 6 km away is closed. Fuel is getting a bit low now. We ask another local and he directs us to a town 14 km away which has 4 stations, one of which at least will be open.

We travel back to the town, passing the intersection where we should have turned left, and buy fuel before continuing on our merry way.

It is a long day of driving on motorways. Finally, by 9pm we have covered about 600 km and we stop for the night in a forest after fortuitously finding a track off the main road. It is one of the quietest nights we have had.

And the End (for this year)

marfee7 — Mon, 7 Nov 2011 20:31:00 GMT

Within 1 1/2 hours, we are on our way to Helsinki then immediately onto our flght to Singapore. The Air Hostess we have on the Finnair flight we recognise as the one we had on the trip over. I recognise her face and Ro recognises her eye lashes which Ro thinks were long enough to sweep the floor. Maybe helpful for rapid turnaround.

Saturday 5 November 2011: Singapore.

At Singapore we have prebooked a hotel. The two requirements are (a) close to the airport and (b) must have a swimming pool. We are looking forward to a dip after our 16 hours flying from Paris.

The hotel provides a minibus from the airport and we think it should be a few minutes. It turns out to be 15 or 20 minutes! We arrive at 5.50 to find the ground floor pool closes at 6.30 and the 8th floor pool is closed due to a function. We change into bathers and dash down for a quick swim, but another function on the ground floor and a glass side on the pool would have meant we were the unplanned entertainment. Ester Williams and partner we ain't so we return to our room and have a shower instead.

Sunday 6th November 2011 : Singapore.

A good night's sleep is appreciated and followed by a superstuffer buffet breakfast. We have a day to fill in for our 11 pm flight and we need to vacate our room by 2pm.

You may recall the mobile phone and the fool-and-his-money saga. It transpired that the money part was correct and the parting part was accurate but identification of the fool may have been in error. Following this bitter realisation, I decide to take a ride on the Singapore rail marvel into the city to discuss my purchase and its continued lack of charging with the vendor.

The easiest way to get to a station is to take the courtesy bus to the airport and a train from there. The train system is clear, clean, efficient and cheap. The trip involved one change of line and there is more than adequate signage and spoken instructions to complete the journey.

At the shop, another charger and battery is installed and the device left to charge for half an hour. The display claims it was charging so I leave it with them for 1/2 hour and return. As I have to get back to the hotel in preparation for our flight home, I have to accept the solution and hope it is correct. The battery, charger and cable have been replaced. One would have to be pretty unlucky for it to something else. Only time will tell.

I reverse my trip and arrive back at the bus meeting place just a minute or so too late. When I ring the hotel to inform Ro of my later arrival, a recorded message says the number is not connected. or it is outside hours or something similar. While I know the information to be incorrect, I have learnt that to argue with a recorded message is doomed to failure.

Eventually I do arrive at 4.40 and Ro is waiting in the lobby. A check of our flight itinery convinces us the flight leaves at 10 not 11 as we had thought.
A little while later we are discussing flight times and something does not add up.Checking the departure time we realise that QF10 departs at 7.55 ! In fact we need to be in the next bus to the airport! A few minutes earlier we had been deciding whether we would go to the 8th floor for a swim. Had we done so, we may have been able to wave to our departing flight!

For some unknown reason, we had misread our itinerary. Few things concentrate the mind more than realizing one's flight leaves two or three hours earlier than one was expecting. But all goes well and we board the A380 and take off by 8pm.

Amongst our cabin crew are two guys who are as gay as all getout. Not that that matters, I hastily add. But their theatricals do provide some light relief, as did those on our outbound flight.

This time our amusement is created by our seating. On the outbound flight, Ro had a seat one from the aisle in a group of four in the centre of the plane, with me on the outside. However, some obstruction at her feet, a designed part of the plane I should add, made her not want the same seat on the inbound flight. We were pre allocated so we will have the same seats. Gallant as I am, I volunteer to take the inner seat, much to Ro's delight.....until she discovers the outer seat does not recline, which causes the entertainment monitor in the seat in front, when reclined, to be far too close. At first analysis, operation of the touch screen using one's nose may not seem so impractical, but it does require very good short sight. But on the right side, I am quite comfortable.

A procession of hostesses comes to dissemble the seat and push and pull but the seat refuses to recline. The solution is to move us to a new pair of seats which ,unfortunately are still in economy, but after we have moved the gayer of the two gays comes to Ro and says with a lot of excitement that he wants her to select a product from the duty free, another item of which Ro had already ordered, and that he is authorised to give them to us to compensae for the trouble we have suffered. He points out to her some handcreams which he really loves, all the time resting the duty free catalogue on my leg as he excitedly flips through the pages. A little later he returns and theatrically withdraws the two items from a Qantas duty free bag. But then for the piece de resistance he says extatically "But I have also added another little surprise" as he withdraws with a great flourish, a box of chocolates. He beams at us as he awaits our overjoyed response. An entertaining and well done job on his part as we are sure to remember the gesture rather than the broken seat.

After that little bit of pantomime, the rest of the flight goes smoothly and quickly. At 6am we touch down at good ol' Tulla and we mentally break into "I still call Australia home" as we enjoy the familiarity of our surroundings.

Monday 7th November 2011: Tullamarine , Melbourne.

We are delighted that Scot and Jacinta both come to the airport to pick us up and we share some of our more recent experiences with them. But we need to set aside a little time to view our 5000 photos with them.

Our odessy or oddity is over for this year. We have travelled 8000 km in the van and visited 8 countries. We have seen buildings and cultures in Europe with which Australia cannot compare in terms of European history although we have seen cave paintings which compare agewise with our Aborigines ancient cultures at Ubir in Northern Territory.

We have marvelled at engineering feats of building by peoples without the aid of today's engineering equipment. We have observed the different cultures of countries which meld the personalities of their citizens. We have experienced different driving conditions, techniques and psychologies. But the overwhelming experience is that people are the same everywhere. Most are pleasant and helpful, some are not but we all share a common world which we need to protect for future generations.

It has been a wonderful experience, never dull ..... sometimes challenging. We are changed irreversibly but for the better and now have broader horizons.
Roll on next year's adventure..... and life.

The middle....We visit 9 European countries

marfee7 — Wed, 19 Oct 2011 18:25:00 GMT

Wednesday 17th August 2011 : CDG Airport (Paris) France

Paris comes into sight, with our first glimpse of that iconic tower. But wait, there's more. A second. And a third. All joined with cables! Wrong towers. Then we see a faint silhouette through the smog and that is the famous tower.

Charles De Gaul (or CDG for those in the know and those who can't spell (sick)((sic))(((a form of recursion)))) is a sprawling concrete jungle in which I assume people live and die without ever seeing outside. One would think an airport is getting too big when a domestic flight is required to get from the baggage carousel to the bus stop.

After getting our bags we ask at information for directions to the bus shuttle area. We are told to walk for 5 minutes in the indicated direction then get a lift to the 5th level. We do that and exit from a 2 metre long lift onto a 1 metre wide footpath which is littered with people and luggage trolleys making it very difficult to exit the lift. But we manage with microns to spare and less than 50 excusez-moi s, which are ignored anyway. We (we being Ro who has a smattering of French) then asks a bus driver for directions to the Pullman shuttle. Her English reply is only offered after Ro Bonjours, parlez-vous Anglaises and genuflects to be on the safe side. The driver's English response is "Wrong side". Now that's what I call value for money! This is from a real live French person. Oh heart be still. Ro vows not to wash her ears for a week, which also proves portentious. We reenter the lift with another passenger who presses the door close button. The doors close. She presses 1. The doors open. She presses door close and the doors close then 1 and the doors open. This goes on for a few iterations then I try. Same thing. Are we not pressing in a French way, maybe? I try throwing my hands outward and shrugging my shoulders like a French person being asked for help. I press again. No change. So I say "Just close the ***** doors and go to the ***** first floor" while holding both the door close and the first floor button. The lift obeys. Perhaps I had initially been using the wrong sort of French.

We take another lift, ready for battle, but it obeys immediately without our requiring any French at all. Alighting, again with microns to spare we ask another driver, who may not be French as he is quite helpful. "le petit bus" (or something similar) he answers to our question. He also gives us the option of "le petit train" but we do not discover from where it leavesft nor where it would take us. Le petit bus appears after 10 minutes with a quintessential French gentleman with le petit moustache and le petit you-poor-people-are- not-French-so-of-course-you-are-lost expression.

It had been suggested that a quick walk across the carpark would get us to our hotel. The problem is that the carpark over which we should walk is a 10 minute ride away at breakneck speeds.

The driver opens the rear door and allows me to remove the bags; probably because they are taller than he is. We checked in and go to our room, our baggage to follow by porter.....when it suits him, which is after 10 or 15 minutes. We twiddle our thumbs waiting for clothes to change into for dinner. We have dinner in the restaurant and retire early as we had a TGV journey next morning to Poitiers near Charroux where our van awaits us.

Thursday 18th August 2011 : CDG Paris France

We want to allow plenty of time to get to the TGV as we are not confident help will be forthcoming. We leave the hotel at 6.45 for a 7.40 boarding. The driver this time is as large as the previous one was small. But the attitude is of similar size. The TGV leaves from a few levels below where we had been picked up the night before but the lift must have learnt its lesson not to mess with Aussies as it does exactly as we instruct, although it does try to nip my shoe as I exit.

The platform is entirely deserted. Not a person in sight nor an information board to be seen. A train is loitering at another platform, but the casual way it has a cigarette dangling from its loco, a berret drooped over the driver's door and its casual posture tells us it is not a TGV. We have abandoned our luggage trolley as there seems to only be escalators to get to the cross bridge between platforms. We scale the escalator, luggage precariously balanced on the steps. There are people on the cross bridge which opens out to a level with crowds of people. We ask a passerby what platform our TGV leaves from using sign language and assorted other devices. Not much help. Ro goes off to find someone official and I stay with the bags. I am approached by a young woman. Finally someone who senses our situation and wants to help. Well, no. She wants a flame for her cigarette, a request made in broken english after I indicate I speak no french. This time I don't even have to beg for english.

Eventually an official tells us that the platform number is displayed 15 minutes before departure. Ro asks where the platforms are. "You don't need to know that because the platform number has not been displayed yet" is the response. No amount of cajoling will persuade the official to describe where the platforms are. Maybe he is right because when the number is displayed, it only takes 5 minutes of guessing to find the platform. But then we have to find the carriage number and that is not entirely evident.

We board the train and drag our luggage upstairs and as close to us as possible as we had been warned to keep bags near to prevent theft. We have brought a bicycle lock to lock the bags together and to the rack. Maybe overkill but as it happened a seedy character (who presents remarkably similarly to the aforementioned non TGV train) spends the 2 1/2 hour trip standing in the toilet next to the bags.Anyone who wants to use the toilet has to evict the character who returns as soon as the toilet is free. We spend a not insignificant amount of time glancing back at our bags.

The trip in the train is quite an experience, racing along at breakneck speeds. the carriage tilting on corners and the unexpected and loud "twack" as any train come the other way. Through long tunnels, a pressure wave assults the ears, prompting some passengers to block ears as the train enters a tunnel.

We arrive at Poitiers with our bags unlocked and ready for a hasty exit. As it happened the seedy character also alights at the same stop. This time there are no elevators so I lug each bag up 30 or so steps, puffing at the top after the second trip and just in time to see the lift, which I had not previously noticed, arrive and disgorge the seedy character SANS LUGGAGE!! (without luggage for you non french speakers)
Not to be caught again, we take the rather grubby lift down to platform level to await Mavis and Terry with whom we were staying at Charroux. We see the van almost immediately, recognising it from the external photographs, which have been rather kind to it. Mavis had said they might pick us up in the van as their Charroux car, a small Citroen, may have been too small. It was, we later discover. Had they brought that, our bags would have to have been lashed to the roof! As it was, they only just fit in the door to the van.
Mavis says we need to go via another villiage named Civray to pay the comprehensive insurance. We do so and discuss the circumstances with the insurance agent. The vehicle has English plates but its English registration has lapsed. The van now has French registration...well almost since the official who needed to sign the final bit of paperwork is on holidays and no one else in the whole wide world can sign the form. Everything stops in France for holidays. But in addition, the van is owned by us, non nationals, but registered in Terry's name who is an English resident although a french property owner. Apart from those details, everything is tickety boo, a term which the french don't understand. The final bit of paper will be signed about 5th September. Fine. We can get the insurance. Good. But a minor problem is that the van cannot be taken out of France. Oops. Can we get around that? Impossible. But the van has to have insurance even if not driven so we have to accept the insurance for 472 euro. How then do we to get to Croatia? Hire a car? Go by train? We will go and think about it over lunch.

We continue onto Charroux to Mavis and Terry's house which is out of something you might read in a book. Now for you, dear reader, it is indeed something you are reading about but not for us. For us it is all happening right before our eyes but not just that building. Amost all the buildings in Charroux date back hundreds of years, including a church which dates back to the 1100s. Our eyes have been used to Australia where European settlement dates back less than 300 years so buildings of any significant age are many years younger than most of the buildings we see in Charroux. The sense of history is palpable.

We remove our bags from the van and placed them in our dwelling, a refurbished barn again 100s of years old. But beautifully restored externally and very comfortably remodelled inside.

Time to find out what we have bought. The vehicle is a 1994 motorhome and the odometer shows 17,900 but as it only went to 100,000 before restarting at 0, the question is how many times has it gone around. We had been told when we purchased it that it had done 117,000 but if it has only gone round once, I am a monkey's uncle. Now those who know me may think the lineage is not in doubt, especially in my believing a 1994 vehicle had only done 117,000, but I am a trusting soul and had assumed the odometer was a 6 digit one and it seemed unlikely that it had done 1,017,000 km. However, apart from having a slightly smokey exhaust when cold, which is not uncommon for diesels, the engine seemed OK and the hoses ,belts and airfilter had all been changed and Terry says that to his knowledge the previous owner had had no problems in 20,000 km of driving. The interior is in good condition but needs a good clean. And I am aware that the fridge and water heater will only work on mains.

Our plan is to do some basic cleaning and stocking then to take off into the wild blue yonder. If it has to be the wild black yonder until the van warms up, well so be it, although that pricks our environmental consciences somewhat. Diesel is extremely popular in Europe and Terry says that the emissions from the van were normal and I have to say that any odour emitted from our van matches that emitted from other cars passing by.
We start cleaning, Ro in her meticulous way and me in my that-screw-needs-tightening....-now-what-was-I-doing-before-that way. Gradually the van starts to look like we could happily travel in it.

Mavis has made a lovely lunch, with Terry barbequeing some pork chops acquired from the supermarche where the insurance people were. She calls us from our tasks and we have a lovely meal sitting outside on a hot day on an attractive patio. Mavis and Terry have unfortunately been involved in a lot of work to get the van registered in France rather than take it back to UK for its yearly MOT (equivalent of out roadworthy). This proved to have problems as the French are very pernickety with their MOT tests which are carried out every two years. I have a few moments of doubt as to whether the vehicle is up to scratch but Mavis assures us that there have been numerous tests so they are confident that everything with regard to safety is perfect, which is comforting. It is a somewhat embarrassing situation as Mavis and Terry have put a lot of effort into the van in which they have no financial interest to help out the person from whom we had purchased in Australia and here I am expressing doubts. Mavis is upset about the situation, but in talking it through and understanding one another's perspective we cement our friendship.
During lunch, John, a friend of Mavis and Terry who has also been involved in the registration saga, turns up. He can't stay as he has to mow the grass, but accepts a drink while he updates us on insurance news. The agent in the other town, the name of whom escapes me, is a tennis friend of John. Through some rather remarkable grape vine, John knows of our plight regarding getting to Croatia and informs us that he has a cunning plan. John has a very dry sense of humour and a pronounced Yorkshire accent so over the next hour or so, between comments that he has to go and mow the grass, we have an amusing and enjoyable discussion. The upshot is that he has another acquaintence named Brenda in Charroux who is an insurance agent and who can insure the vehicle so we would be able to leave France. John finally goes to mow the grass and we go to see the agent.
Now business in Charroux is a very laid back affair. We go to Brenda's office but it is not attended so we instead go to look at the medieval church. The stone floor undulates like an ocean and all is rough hewn. But the towering vaulted ceilings and externa stone culumnar buttresses are impressive, especially considering the lack of any mechanical means of construction. I know this pales into insignificance compared with cathedrals such as Notre Dame and the Cologn cathedral but this was in the 1100s and just amazing. Our marvelling at the engineering will prove to be a common theme throughout our travels.

We return to Brenda's office and check the door which is was unlocked so we enter. There is hammering comming from a room somewhere and upstairs there are footsteps. We make noises to make indice our presence and a frenchman comes from the direction of the hammering. As Mavis's french is good , she enquirs as to the whereabouts of Brenda. Things close down from 12 to 2 for lunch in France. Presumably the concept of a long lunch is measured in terms of extra half days, because Brenda at 3.30 returns from a slightly extended lunch. Brenda is aware of the problem and immediately gets on the phone to an insurance company and has an answer of "no problems" within minutes. The only impediment is that we had already paid the premium and the only thing the french hate more than speaking english is giving refunds on insurance policies. What must be done is to take a quick trip back to Civray in the little Citroen. It is 5.30pm but, no matter: the long lunches means that businesses stay open longer.

More discussions are had, all in french between Mavis and Stephanie, the insurance agent's Girl Friday in Civray. But without actually saying so, a refund was not going to happen. After much discussion, it turns out that there is no insurance problem, just a problem of getting the van back into France having left unless we had the plates fitted. However we decide that the problem would only arise if police stop us at the boarder, which does not happen on freeways, and questioned registration on a vehicle with english plates trying to communicate with people who don't speak french. We hope that in such a case the whole thing would be too difficult and we would be waved on. Surely a foolproof plan. And if all else failed we would get the plates and paperwork sent to whatever country we are in at the time. Problem solved.

Back to Charroux where Ro and I continue our spring cleaning and discovery until lateish in the evening. Our plan is to leave by lunchtime tomorrow to get to Clarmont Ferrand, about 250 km away by tomorrow evening.

Friday 19th August 2011: Charroux , France

We have a good night's sleep and continue cleaning and packing in the morning.

Unfortunately we are not ready to leave until about 4.30 pm. But a small incident prevents us leaving. Having filled the water tank, with Terry's help, we start the engine and say our goodbyes. The van has performed satisfactorily from Poitiers to Charroux and then from one side of the house to the other to fill the tank. But as we say our goodbyes, the cab fills with smoke. Something which, at the very least, is likely to be detrimental to our enjoyment of the trip. Terry asks what I have done to the wiring. Reasonable in the circumstances since I had started fitting our much studied burglar alarm. Terry points out that the van has not done this before, which in itself is somewhat reassuring. I assure Terry that I have not actually fitted the alarm nor altered any wiring. So he starts thinking what might be different now from when he had driven it earlier and during the previous weeks of driving to and fro for tests. The french authorities who did the checking of the van had run into the holidays of the Grand High Poobah's who had to sign the final registration document because they wanted a device fitted which would alert the driver to the steps not being in the up position. So the local garagier had fitted a switch which would be held open if the steps were up. He had fitted a rocker switch with a light, using only the light and not the switch. The device was less than perfect in that the switch was not effectively activated by the rather rickety steps so the light stayed on whenever the ignition was on. However when he fitted it, he used an extra terminal which had worked its way toward a wrong contact on the switch causing a direct short if the switch is in the wrong position. I may well have tested the switch and left it in the second position. Because there is no fuse, there is smoke. This takes some minutes to diagnose, with testing between suspected but incorrect causes resulting in more smoke in the cab during the diagnosis. Finally the actual cause is determined and the faulty contact removed. We say our final good byes and leave with our useless but glowing non warning lamp forever lit.

My first experience of driving on the right! Other than frequently hitting right hand tyres on concrete curbs which the french are fond of installing, it is a piece of cake. Although the occasional gesture from other drivers suggests they may think my driving is a piece of something far less pallatable.

Our first requirement is to get some gazole or diesel. Terry had suggested we go back to Civray for diesel but I am concerned about the time. Instead we continue in the direction of C-F sure we will find gazole. But we end up with the guage hovering on empty and start to get concerned. Without really expecting any success, we consult the Garmin for fuel outlets. The nearest is in a villiage we had just left! We had not seen it because we didn't pass the station. We had done a dogleg which bypassed the pumps. On returning we buy fuel then go in to pay. The 'shop' is ecclectic in the goods it provides. It even has a bar at which locals are drinking. The bar most likely is the main business.

We continue on toward C-F but it is getting late by now so we realize we will not make our intended stopping place. But we chance apon a sign for Le Perle camping so continue on to stay there. We get a site for 22 euro, including power to which we cannot connect as our lead has a different plug and the adaptors they have do not fit their plugs either!

I have earlier suggested the french are arrogant and unhelpful. That was true of those we encounered at CDG but the reverse is true of those we find in rural areas. Most are helpful, even if they can speak no english (as we can speak so little french). We will ask questions of dozens of people over the next few days who speak either little or no english and nearly all will made an effort to help or find someone more adept at english. We do introduce ourselves as best we can which may help. We say "Bon jour. Je suis Australien sans Francais. Parlez-vous Anglais?" (Good day. I am Australian without French. Do you speak English.....which probably is bad french and definitely is presented with bad pronunciation). We mention that we are Australian just in case we are mistaken for nationals of another country which speaks English and of whom the french are reputedly not fond.

Saturday 20th August 2011 St Medard la Rochette, France

Next morning we awake early and manage to leave by 9. Ro predicts we should be there by 8pm. It is only 150 km so I say that is ridiculous; we will be there well before that. I will say no more, but Garmin is the clue to what proves to be Ro's not unreasonable prediction.

Off we go following the route Garmin suggests. However we become slightly concerned as Garmin continually drops out after saying "Recalculating" then "Cannot Recalculate". Also, the purple route we are supposed to follow is frequently different from the road we are actually on yet the road number listed is correct. After four hours the roads start to look familiar. We pass the sign to Le Perle then Le Perle. Is it time to sy "Bye bye Garmin"?

But we continue jauntily bouncing along narrow country roads and after a time we arrive at a quaint village called Aubusson. We negotiate a narrow street and come apon a crowded Saturday market. As we do not wish to negotiate a narrow street full of randomly ambulating people we choose to go up a deserted street. We are in luck as there is a relatively open car park of sorts into which we can drive the van. We locked up and set off to explore the magnificent little village. The buildings either side are all two or three storeys opening directly onto the street and there are even narrower laneways steeply disappearing upward off the main streets. At points along the street, a fork is occupied by a building tapering to the corner. We buy some croissant from le petit patisserie which is also a boulangerie (cake and bread shop). After strolling around we return to the van and start back on our journey. We think this is where Garmin became confused. We follow the directions. Somehow we do a huge loop through some interesting country and eventually end up passing passing Le Perle again!! But this is some hours later.

During our travelling, the day is gradually heating up. Europe experienced a cool June and July but August has more than made up for that, with temperatures in the high 30s. Great for not travelling in a non air conditioned van. So we are getting hot and bothered. Adding to this is the fact that the fridge does not work. We have a cooler with an electronic heat transfer module but that is only marginally effective.

We continue on delightful minor roads through little villages with narrow streets. About 3 pm we decided to stop for a drink but the roads are so narrow that one has to be selective. We decide to go down a small laneway along which is a long dry stone fence. Then to our amavement we see what could only be described as a castle probably from the 1500s or earlier. It has three or four turrets towering the equivalent of a 6 or 7 storey building. There are assorted out buildings including an entrance portico. Other buildings are occupied presumably by different families. Absolutely magical!

After passing through more quaint villages and negotiating more narrow roads we finally reach our camping spot near a village called Nadaillat at about 5.30 pm. 8pm my foot. We have only taken 8 hours to cover a couple of hundred km! There were a couple of hugely memorable diversions on the way, though. We make for the pool immediately, and our hot and bothered personalities evaporate with the coolness of the water.

Refreshed and much happier Ro conjurs up another delicious dinner in her usual make-something-delicious-out-of-nothing way. While Ro is making dinner, I set up for our first night of power as the park receptical is correct for our plug. I also pull the back of the fridge off to see why it doesn't work on gas. A bit of cleaning of the jet and we have a fridge. Although it will prove to be inadequate on gas alone it will be much better than the other cooler.

We have been thoughtfully placed next to an english couple with whom we chat, glad for easy conversation without confusion. We have an early night in our campervan bed which is above the cabin and thankfully can remain made when not in use.

Sunday 21st August 2011 : Nadaillat , France

In the morning I go to the park shop to get a bagette. Amongst some confusion, we scour a list before the shop attendant indicats to me that we needed to have placed an order yesterday. So no bagette. However a little later, she finds our van and says we can buy one as they had some spare.

We set off for Geneva, about 250km away, about 10 am. We have always vowed we would use non freeways so we would see the countryside. However, we get onto a short bit of freeway and the ease of driving and certainty of direction seduces us and we stay on it all the way to Geneva, paying 30 euro in tolls and setting us up for another 40 CHF(Swiss francs) the next day. Compared with the non freeway journey, the freeway way is no adventure at all but it gets us to our destination sooner and with less uncertainty. We decide that we will use freeways until our Croation cruise in 4 days then thereafter we will take the long way home.

Despite Garmin having refused to calculate any routes, as we get closer to Geneva on the A1, periodically trying to get instructions, it finally plots a route from the freeway to where we want to camp. This is fortunate as we would not have found our camping ground otherwise.

We stay in Geneva in a park which is located in almost a suburban street. It has been there forever and the suburbs have crept up on it. It is quaint in the Swiss tradition. There are hedges all around and a lovely new swimming pool which we again need due to the heat. We are met by a Swiss man named Stephan who is very helpful and proves to be quite a character. In being shown the camp facilities he points out an external oven on which he said we can rost a pig or leg of lamb. I have to admit that we have forgotten to pack the pig in the van (called a camping car in Europe).

There are quaint Swiss style bungalows in brown timber and plenty of grass and trees. And we see our firat squirrel. Just as Europeans ooh and aah about kangaroos and koalas we do so about the squirrel. At Charroux we were warned that there were vipers near the pond, but we were less interested in seeing them despite the exotic name.

Fortunately the nights are cool which makes sleeping possible. Monday morning dawns and we prepare to leave. Stephan is an interesting man who among other things has been a hotel manager in Afganistan at one time and had spent a year in the jungle by himself on another occasion. He has been a paraglider and motorbike rider also but had a back injury which now cramps his style a bit. To say he is an adrenalin junkie is like saying the Deli Lama is spiritually inclined. He offers some help on the Garmin and we spend some time on the net researching our Cannot Calculate problem. We came to the conclusion that it is a common problem with no found solution.

Monday 22th August 2011 Geneva , Switzerland

We leave about 9.00 with instructions from Stephan on where we can buy another GPS. We travel into Geneva and purchase a TomTom which the store attendant said is good. We continue through Geneva, following the Garmin which may know it's days are numbered because it chooses to calculate a route to the A1 on which we have decided to travel to our camping destination near Zurich. We are meeting another Swiss man named Rolf, with whom we have been communicating, at the Wildegg railway station at 4.30 pm and as we are again running to a schedule, the freeway is the chosen way. That is where the 40 CHF comes in. After travelling for 50 or so km, we decide that what we are on is a tollway. We have decided we needed provisions so we exit the freeway with the intention of buying some groceries.

We have seen one of the huge lakes which looks like a sea. Where we exit, the lake appears to be just over the hill so we think we will go there for morning tea by the lake. Now one has to be careful in these parts when something is "over the hill" because hills here can be sizable. I am concerned that we not deviate by more than half of Switzerland to find the lake, but having morning tea by water is appealing. However before we reach the lake we come across a medieval town with an original portico with ancient heavy doors through which the van can fit. There seems nothing preventing us from entering so we do. The other side is narrow but there is a delivery vehicle there so we enter. Although it appears narrow, narrow in Europe merely means hugging one side when another vehicle is encountered. In these cases, you can smell the garlick on the breath of the other driver as they pass. You can also hear their mutterings......or occasionally their shouts. We hear the latter, although we do not understand the meaning. But it is obvious that what we are doing is not what the locals do. I had earlier been blasted at length by a truck due to something with which the driver did not agree. One can either take the approach that one has totally transgressed the road code or ,alternatively, that one's driving is so indistinguishable from the locals that they toot as they would a local. Generally I assume the latter. but in this current situation that seems unlikely so we decide to perform the tricky manoeuver of turning in the narrow street. It provides some entertainment for the locals having al fresco coffee in the village.

We retreat to the safety of the supermarket outside the medieval section and buy some provisions and something for morning tea. We find what was probably is a religious establishment to stop and sit on the grass in the absence of any obvious path to the lake.

After morning tea, we ask a local if we have to pay to use the tollway and she said that all roads are free in Switzerland. But you need a sticker on the car which cost 40 CHF. It would appear that Swiss Free is different from Australian Free. Obviously good marketing by the government. Julia take note. If we do not have one and the police stop us, we will be fined. So we think we better get one. She directs us in broken english to a place we can buy one. However half an hour later we have not found it and it is now 3 pm with time to get to Wildegg running out and our internet not working to communicate with Rolf. In Australia, I had been taking blood pressure tablets which I thought I might not need here due to the relaxed pace. Wrong! Maybe I will up the dose.

We ask at another auto repair facility and they direct us to a post office in the town we have just left. We go back there and are directed back to the freeway where there is an outlet to buy the pass. Maybe this is the back and forth scribbling which Garmin had drawn in Melbourne. We have only scribbled three or four times, but maybe Garmin was being cautious when planning the route in Melbourne. Perhaps we have underrated Garmin.

Back to the freeway with a deal of relief. Garmin says we will arrive in 1 hr 43 mins and it is 2.45 so we should just make by 4.28 for our 4.30 meeting if Garmin chooses to actually guide us there without spitting the dummy. This is Swiss precision in action.
Our USB modem again has chosen not to work so we cannot contact Rolf on his mobile as arranged. We are not actually guided to the railway station where we are to meet but a girl who speakes no English gives us directions when we are qute close and I am pleased that I can use my schoolboy German from 45 years ago. She may have been less pleased.

Finally we reach Rolf and his wife, Madlin, by 4.45, only 15 minutes late and Rolf is not concerned.

We follow Rolf in his car along a narrow bitumen road then onto a steep gravel road changing between 1st and 2nd all the way. We climb vertically some hundreds of metres to a lush wooded camping ground with wonderful views of the village far below.

A qwick swim and we are rendered solid again, having been reminiscent of a pair of Dali's molten clocks because of the hot travelling. This is very appropriate as it turns out as Rolf has very kindly organised a traditional dinner of molten cheese on potatoes and before the swim we were not unlike the molten cheese. In return, we have brought an Aussie flag as we are the first Aussie guests who have stayed there.

The dinner consists of boiled potatoes, pickled cucumbers and a capsicum ratatoui . There are slabs of cheese about 80mm x 80mm x 8mm thick which are placed in small pans and put under a grill element. When molten, the cheese is scraped onto the baked potatoes. This continues until each guest has had his fill. For sweets, pears have been marinsted in red and white wine and spices. Somewhat similar to gluwine. A light cream is added to the top. It is delicious. We finish up with snapps, an acquired taste which I haven't.

Rolf and Madlin have to return to Wildegg so we return to our van to boot up the TomTom. Without over anthropomorphising the now redundant Garmin GPS, following the purchase of the TomTom, the Garmin has picked up its game. We had warned it that its performance was well below par but it had ignored our warnings, presumably not believing we would indeed replace it. Now that it knows we are serious, it has guided us to Wildegg without incident. But it is too late. All our problems are over now we have the TomTom.......maybe.

We unpack the new GPS and power it up. A few questions first. Language to display: English. Km or miles: Km. Voice to use: French, Italian or Spanish: Pardon em oir? English is grayed out. So are we. We select the grayed out English voice to be greeted with Not Available: Load from CD or the net. The net is not talking and the CD is not in the box. So we choose French thinking we could cope with english with a french accent. They are generated voices so it tested. With half a dozen "'ow you say"s the voice speaks an english phrase with a french accent and a lot of what sounded like static. Or maybe that is what we interpreted as " 'ow you say". Anyway, after a few words, the system says the voice is incompatible with the display language and it opts to say all spoken directions in French. Nothing we can do now so we decide we will load an english voice from the net when we have the chance.

Tuesday 23th August 2011 Zurich, Switzerland

Next morning, as our hosts are not there, we have to find the resident caretaker, a lady called "Wally". Where's Wally is a catch phrase with which we are familiar so we go in search of her. She is a delight and chats to us in German with me responding in bits of pseudo German. At school we had learned useful things like Rotkapschen (Red Riding Hood) and Swartzwaldkuche (Black forrest cake) but these seemed of little use in conversation. Wally explains she has to go : "Ich muss fahren zu Wildegg apfel und milch zu einkaufen in funf minuten" (I must go to Wildegg to buy milk and apples in 5 minutes) or something similar. As I am struggling so hard to remember the (probably self evident) meaning of "einkaufen" the conversation rapidly draws to a close.

We are ready to leave about 9.15. when further evidence that the Garmin was upset becomes evident. I had placed the TomTom on the windscreen above the Garmin the night before and I now notice that, while the TomTom is still stuck proudly to the windscreen, the Garmin is lying prostrate on the dashboard. Was that a quiet sob I heard? I place the Garmn back on the windscreen and program both to our destination in Zurich. The Garmin calculates effortlessly and starts chatting away to us. I program the TomTom and decided to compare as we travel. Unfortunately, as the Garmin says its instructions in english, the TomTom says its instructions almost simultaneously in french. Although both display instructions in english, the french voice is disconcerting. After a tme we turn the TomTom voice off.
We have some friends, Pat and Dave, who live in Cairns and frequently visit Melbourne. But they are to be in Zurich when we are passing through so, in true globetrotting fashing, we thought we would meet for coffee. Now the Garmin was pitted against the TomTom and the Garmin was not going to be beaten.

We arrive at the given address, intending to call on Dave's the mobile using Skype. But it won't connect. We park the van in front of another car, just fitting under an awning and go in search of the apartment. The address we have been given is obviously a shopping area but there seem to be apartments as part of it. After some questions of people in the shops, we are directed to some post boxes next to which is an intercom. We scan the names, not knowing whose name to look for as we only know the person with whom Pat and Dave are staying as Debbie. Fortunately there is a large Australian flag sticker with a name with the initial D. A good bet we think so buz and soon are rewarded by Dave's presence at the door. Pointing to the van we asked Dave if it is OK to park there. Dave thinks so as there are no blue lines. And if not all that can happen is we get a ticket............. My life seems to be full of portent at present but I don't seem to recognise it as such.

We enjoy coffee with them in a very hot apartment without airconditioning. They don't need it as it is never hot. Our time there includes loading new TomTom maps as the purchase includes updating of maps. And we want an English capable voice. We use their WiFi and get an email from abroadband.com saying they have debited our card with 57 euro. For four day's use!!!!! Their site had proudly proclaimed that at 59 euro cents per meg they were an inexpensive way to use mobile broadband. Something like 50 emails or 80 Google searches or 4 minutes of Skype for 1 meg. We have used less than any of these amounts yet have used 100 meg in 4 days! Not what I call cheap. So maybe it is fortunate that the broadband didn't work about half the time.

About 1 1/2 hours later we leave, returning to the van to get my Travel Money card to buy some provisions at the supermarket in the bottom of the building. We only have 100 euro and if we pay with that, all the change will be in CHF and we are about to leave Switzerland.

On the van under the windscreen is a ticket for 120 CHF or A$150. What to do? We go to a post office to ask and the girl says we have to pay it. Not having time to go and dispute it with the police (which would probably have been futile) we decide to pay. I have to go to the ATM to get the 120 CHF. I ask the post office girl what the ticket was for but neither she nor her fellow cashier can help. I comment that if we are not to repeat the infringement, we needed to know what not to do. She suggests we go to the police station, which we don't have time for, having to be in Innsbruck this evening. By the time I get back from the ATM, she has looked up a code and says we were parked on a footpath. It seems the car I parked in front of was illegally parked, the "No Parking" sign was so faded it was unrecognisable and the lack of blue lines indicate no parking, not vice versa as Dave had thought. Expensive coffee.

We use TomTom to guide us onto the freeway and continue toward Austria. Garmin is relegated to the glove box.

Travelling on the motorway is quite an experience in the van. Hills knock it about quite a bit, so it is important to keep the momentum up for any hills. However, with two lanes and the speed limit at 130 kph, passing slower vehicles on the flat takes coordination and a bit of luck. When approaching a truck, it is necessary to keep approach speed high but pull out when close to the truck to stay in the outer lane the minimum amount of time. If I change to the outer lane too soon I hold up other faster vehicles, often incurring their wraith. If I leave the change to the outer lane too late, I have to brake, loosing momentum for the passing. Then up the hills, the trucks I have just passed may catch up and have to pass me again, maybe incurring their wraith. A thick skin sometimes is necessary.

Then in Austria, the tunnels are something else. We might think we have tunnels in Australia, but they are mere wormholes compared with those under the Alps here. In two lane tunnels, as trucks thunder by in the opposite direction, the van is rocked and the windows need to be up because of the deafening roar.

Fortunately we had been alerted to the need for toll stickers so we know to visit a service station once in Austria. A 10 day pass is 7.80 euro. There is also a tunnel toll of another 8.50 euro. However, the trip without using the toll roads is 5 1/2 hours compared with 2 1/2 with tolls. In any case, we still have one detour off the tollway of about 10 km as there is some incident on the motorway. But the villages we pass through are very picturesque. Next time without time constraints we will not use the tollways. At one pont along the detour, village children wave and hold up signs wishing us a happy journey. Obviously an unusual occurence for them.

We arrive at our camping place without incident about 6.45 and after a swim, settle in for the night. During a discussion with Dave regarding the fridge's lack of performance, he had suggested I clean the heat exchanger. I use some dental floss to drop a screw through the vertical pipe and then pull some steel wool through in an effort to clean the heat exchanger to improve its efficiency. But the floss brakes. Bugger! I get some stiff wire and retrieve most of the wool but overnight the fridge seemed to be worse. Ho hum.

Wednesday 24th August 2011 Innsbruck, Austria.

Our plan is to drive to Villach near the Italian and Slovenian borders. We enter the address we want near there into TomTom and get a route which seems to go too far north. We try an alternate route which is shorter but slower by 30 minutes. This seems likely to be more scenic, so we enter that into TomTom.

Abroadband.com has been proving to be far, far more expensive than suggested on the site so we choose to use McDonalds' free wifi to send some emails and make some Skype calls. TomTom takes us there and we spent an hour or so on the net. We then continue onto Villach with TomTom leading the way. All goes well until (were you expecting that?) I inadvertantly take a wrong turn. I have always been a bit dislexic and have had trouble with left and right. Now, driving a right hand vehicle, I have even more trouble. When TomTom says vere right I start to do that, get confused and vere left over a floppy sort of barrier. Well it may not have been floppy before I ran over it, but it certainly was after. Tom Tom doesn't miss a beat. It leads us up a steep mountain with superlative views and down the other side. We only begin to feel uneasy when we are told to exit the freeway in 67 km and we are not on a freeway. Now TomTom may know exactly what it was doing but after our prior experiences with the other GPS, we are a bit unnerved. We clear the current route and reprogram, this time using the longer route on the tollway. Less adventurous so safer. Or so it seems.

I have previously commented that nothing interesting happens on tollways other than working gears up and down mountains, negotiating 10 kilometer long tunnels and playing cat and mouse with passing in the outside lane. All rather boring after the initial rush. However our new path takes us inside Germany then back into Austria near Salsburg and as we enter Germany the German Boarder Police add some interest to the journey. Now I cannot be sure if it is me wearing a Tee shirt and small towel with nothing else or the fact that we have different number plates back and front or the fact that we look like Romany Gypsies on the move, but we attract their attention. As we drive past a patrol car, the glazed vision of the car's occupants suddenly becomes fixed on our little van. Ro watches wondering if they will follow. They do. Half a kilometer down the road they gently pull in front of us and we get the impression they want to talk. I started to pull over but they continue and illuminate a sign on their car in German. We consider the sign could either say "Have a nice day" or could be something like "Follow Me" Rather than pull out and cover them in diesel fumes, we decide to follow them. In another half k, the passenger starts to wave a pingpong bat as though he is practising for a tournament. We thint this unlikely so pull into a parking area where there is some type of police party going on and apparently we are to be their guests.

A young female police officer says good day in German then, after my English response starts speaking very good English. They were boarder police and could we show them our passports and license to drive. Ro, as custodian of those documents, starts getting them out. While she does that, the officer asks if they can inspect inside the van. I say that will be OK then mumble something about getting some pants on first. I climb from the driver's seat into the back to open the rear door and put on some pants. In so doing, the officer is supplied more personal information than she probably requires or wants. I suspect my attire does little to enhance our image of mature Australians touring Europe, but it may explain the bemused expressions on the seemingly pre -pubescent young recruits they appeared to be. It may also explain the reason they want to look in the outside locker, the inside bathroom and assorted other cupboards. They must be looking for illegal immigrants, and small ones at that, rather than drugs as they do not check thoroughly and sniffer dogs are nowhere in sight, which is good as we don't like doggy odours inside.

After checking the registration papers, insurance, the serial number, proof of ownership, all of which are in assorted languages and from assorted countries, they decide they are in order (phew!) and bid us a cheery "Aufwiedersehen". I mutter under my breath "Not if we sehen you first" but smile, checked that we have all our documents back and continue on our merry way.

We are due to stay in Austria near Villach at a place called Millstadt and maybe a suburb called Pesenthein. Addresses can be somewhat confusing. The camp is by a lovely lake and we are hanging out for a swim, the day having been hot,hot,hot again. Ro has been perfecting her technique of wetting a rag to provide evaporative cooling and it is surprising how quickly the rag dries out.

We arrive at Pesenthein after asking some directions, although our camping ground was in TomTom if we had looked. At reception we chose a site with a view. "FKK area?" says the checkin chick and we shrug our shoulders and agree. We drive up the hill through a low hedge and set up. It is then we notice everyone in the FKK area is without clothes. "FKK" designates a naturist area in Europe! However the old adage "When in Rome do as the Romans do" translates to "When in Pesenthein, do as the Pesents do" or something similar, so we follow suit or more to the point, discard suit.

As mentioned, we are keen to get into the water. But the low hedge marks the non FKK area, a notional boundary, not a visual one, so we have to don clothes to go to the lake. At the lake, there is also an FKK area so we go there. The freedom of no swimming togs is wonderful and practical.

Thursday 25th August 2011 Villach Austria

Next morning we leave to head to Ljubljana in Slovenia where we intend staying tonight. However as it is only half the distance we have travelled on previous days we decide to travel to our next stay and have two nights in one place.

But our route takes us through Ljubljana and before leaving we call into Maccas for their free WiFi, still stinging from our 59 euro bill on abroadband.com. We send some emails and pick up some then continue onto Ravinja.

We have purchased a Slovenian vignette for 15 euro to travel the short distance on their tollroad now have to fork out for Croatian toll roads. Somewhere we had read a sign "Abandon wealth all ye who embark on these pathways" and we are learning what that means.
In Croatia, we quickly learn how arbitrary their rules are. A border check, far from the German type, involves showing our passports. A quick glance at the Australian emblem on the cover by the official results in us being waved on without stopping. Does that mean we will be stopped in 50 metres and our state of clothing or whatever checked? No! Just keep going.

It is getting on in the afternoon, as always later than we hoped, so we are dismayed to reach a traffic jam. A sign indicates 4.5 km to a tunnel. Does this mean a 4.5 km jam? Fortunately the 4.5 km referred to the length of the tunnel, not the distance to it. The queue is to pay the 5 euro toll. Still, it takes 10 minutes to get through the boom gate. As we leave, an old mini gives way to us and we continue through the tunnel. Disturbingly, on our exit, there is no mini behind us. Is this the Bermuda triangle of Croatia? In fact, within the tunnel there were various side tunnels, the reason for which I don't know, unless they were ventilation entrances. Maybe the mini was sucked into one such void.

We get to within 60 km of our destination and TomTom lead us into another toll road. This does not seem correct so we instead head in the direction we think is correct. Deja-vous you might think? Deja-vous it was. We end up at Umag, at the top end of the coast we want and end up travelling toward Rovinja along narrow streets through tiny ancient villages. Once again our mistake gives us the best experience.

The narrow streets and heat are going to be tiresome if they continue so we apologise to TomTom and continue following her instructions. She takes us back to the tollway and, showing a great deal of magnanimity, does not even display "I told you so". Within an hour we are in Rovinja and travelling to our stopping point, a camping area called Valalta.
We have seen many photos of Valalta with its advertised natural beauty and it looks impressive, although it looks fairly developed. The natural areas must be a bit further inland. Wrong! The word is naturist not natural. This is another FKK area, but this time it is the whole area which is FKK! 9000 naked people!

The place is incredible. Wohnwagens (mobile homes ) and tents everywhere. There are supermarkets, markets, restaurants, fruit stalls, gift shops, a marina and more. But better still.......there is a water slide. Even better than that, we are now able to stay in the same place for two nights.

We head immediately for the water slide. After a hot and slightly stressful drive, a water slide is the only thing which could put a smile back on Ro's face. Two or three slides later we are cool, happy and enjoying ourselves. As well as the water slide, there are huge floating 'toys' which includes a 10 metre high 'iceberg', two floating trampolines and assorted other fun things. Climbing the ice berg is not an easy task. There are hand holds into which one can insert a toe with difficulty. Excellent exercise. Then at the top one can slide, dive or jump into the beautifully warm sea water, which is probably 10 metre deep.

Back on the shore there is a cold water rinse shower which is refreshing and cleansing.
I am annoyed that the fridge still is not doing what it should. Now is the time to fix it as we have a free day tomorrow. I abandon the idea of removing it after seeing the top firmly stuck to a deflection plate. But the wire I had got in Innsbruck eventually coaxes the remaining bit of steel wool out of the heat exchanger. It also coaxes a spiral piece of stainless steel used to circulate the gases. It should be perfect now.

Back to the water slide and rinse shower to cool off as this refrigeration work is hot work.

Evening falls and a very peculiar transition takes place. Whereas during the day, not a person is clothed, after some ill defined time, progressively people cover up until by 8 pm almost no one is unclothed. Yet the night is still very hot. This rather peculiar transition is emphasised when I walked into an area where ice cream is available without any clothes and people stare! Incomprehensible! We ask a few poeple the protocol and it seems there is none but getting dressed in the evening is what they do. But not at their campsites. Furthermore, some people go to the shower blocks dressed and some not. Very confusing. It takes us Aussies to show the Europeans a thing or two. Or to be precise, I show them a thing and Ro two.

Next day we spend water sliding, ice berging and walking. Valalta covers probably 6 or 8 square km and it is easy to get temporarily lost. Heading to the coast and following that until we recognise a land mark seems to be the most successful strategy for finding our van.

Saturday 27th August 2011 Rijeka, Croatia

Saturday morning dawns and it is time to travel to Opatija for the start of our 7 day cruise. Despite being only 75 km away, TomTom says it will take 1 hour 20 minutes or there abouts. In brackets it says "but double that for idiots". As it happens we need to double it, but I think that is just coincidence.

The trip to Opatjia goes without incident. Finding the boat doesn't. We expected Opatjia to be smaller and the point from which the boat is leaving to be obvious. It isn't. Not only are the streets narrow, but they seem unnamed and parking along them is chaotic. But that does not matter as we don't have a clue where to go. It is 11 am and the boat leaves at 1pm. Surely it will not take two hours to find a boat. Surely not........... We stop in what seems to pass for a parking space. That is if you ignore all the parking spaces which masquerade as road lanes, footpaths, stop sign areas at intersections or anywhere else which is not currently occupied by anything.

First port of call for help is a local. No English. Ro suggests we try a hotel. She stays with the van to persuade any zenophobic police that where we are parked is better than where the locals park. She will have problems if she has to move the van as she has not yet driven it, let alone negotiating the 'wrong' side of the road. Fortunately she does not need to.

The hotel people are very helpful. A minor problem is that our documentation does not say which shipping line, the name of the boat, the departure point or any other minor detail needed to locate the boat. However with a few phone calls, all is revealed. A quick scribble on a map and we are off back the way we came, although on the upper return road.

The lack of road names, traffic directions or anything else means we are not home and hosed as yet, but we are again hanging out for a hosing to cool down.

We find another parking area and manoevre the van into a place. Ro stays again and I walk down to the foreshore to get directions. This involves a long climb down dozens of steps to be told we are about 3 km further up the road than we need to be. Up the steps and back to the van. Manoevre to the parking bay exit. However, now someone has parked in the spot which was masquerading as the exit road. Why would that inconvenience anyone? There is still the other side of the road.... well enough of it anyway....if you are not driving a motorhome. But there is just enough space and we continue back the way we came. Another false stop or two and there we have what we need. An unmarked road down to an unmarked dock to meet an unmarked cruise line. But there is a marked boat, so what is the fuss about? At this stage the van is parked at a stop sign in a position which we had criticized others for parking in just a few minutes ago. That is because we are not allowed to take the van to the dock.The attendant explains it is OK by him but not the police. But the police don't seem to mind us being parked at a stop sign.

We had arranged for our van to be securely parked for 12 euro per day. We want to park it ourselves and set the alarm which I finish installing as we wait for the guy to show us where the parking is. Brinksmanship has become our stock in trade. The guy turns up in an Audi and we are instructed to follow at a fair pace down narrow streets up steep hills, along unmade roads for 15 minutes to the secure area. The most secure part was that no one could find the bloody place. There is a chainwire fence which will keep out all questionable types as long as they are blind, unable to walk and no wind blows the fence down. The guy offers to drive the van back when we return and we accept since I rationalise that an alarm is only of value if someone hears it and does something about it. Since that was not going to happen they might just as well have full access to it. Anyway, is that not what insurance is for?

We get a lift back in a small Saab with three others who are not customers. The driver takes the short way back which involves hand brake turns, heavy braking and generally creating what seems to us like havoc but which presumably is normal driving in these parts.

Finally we board the boat. Freedom at last. Someone else is now responsible for where we are to be and when. We can relax.

The boat is a pleasant surprise. We had only known that the boat has about 10 cabins and is a restored Catagory B boat. What that means we don't know. Our pleasant surprise is that the boat is only two years old and is bigger than we expected. It has one lower deck with 6 or 8 cabins, a second deck with a further 8 or 10 cabins, a third deck with an eating area, kitchen and wheelhouse and a sundeck above that. The cabins are spacious (as boat cabins go) each with a spacious en suite.

After a short welcome speech, we leave port and are immediately served a lunch of pasta and chicken. Our fellow passengers consist of an Australian couple , 7 or 8 English couples and two single English men and 7 or 8 German couples.
Our trip covers islands in the Kvarner Bay area. We head toward Cres on smooth seas with lovely warm breezes. Along the way we stop to swim in the aqua waters which are beautifully clear and tepid. After half an hour or so we continue past cliffs densely vegetated with lush green trees and rocky edges extending into deep waters.

We reach the village of Cres about 5 pm. We are to tie up here for the night and we are responsible for obtaining our own dinner from any of the multitude of eating places. We walk down tiny alleyways 1.5 metres wide with buildings towering either side, hundreds of years old. At the waterfront, stone areas extend to the sea which laps against numerous little fishing boats, bobbing only 30 cm below the paving, no barrier to prevent the unwary from an unwelcome dunking. The scene is so wonderfully picturesque, with 3 or 4 storey buildings painted in various pastel colours of yellow, blue pink, red and even mauve. The shuttered windows are bordered by stone window frames. All centuries old, with only the occasional modern building, generally obscured or sympathetically integrated into the vista.

As the evening progresses, lights twinkle and pavements became crowded with people but not unpleasantly so. Markets and stalls pop up and waiters cajol passing potential patrons. A busker play guitar as families, couples and individulas pass.
We decide our lunch has been sufficient so we choose to buy an icecream. Some of the locals could do with a little coaching in customer relations. It would seem that more effort is made to entice the customer than is made after the customer has decided to buy. Our ice cream vendor reluctantly describes the flavours available as they are only marked in Croation (if that is the correct term for the text). We select our flavours and he indicates the price of 10 kuna( about 7 kuna to the A$). We fiddle with some change but only have 8 kuna. I open my wallet and only have a 200 kuna note. With some annoyance he asks "Do we have anything smaller?" then reluctantly gives us change as our answer is no.

About 10.30 we return to the boat for an early night. But before that we find a wifi hot spot and checked some emails. We also send an email to Felix in Germany to say our much travelled USB modem is returning to him as we had left it in Zurich.

Our cabin is on the port side which is the side we will always moor. As the nights are hot, we leave our door open. Unfortunately all the noise of the port enters our cabin, slightly attenuated by a red curtain which also attenuates the breeze as well. However the evenings are comfortable and we require only a sheet early in the morning for some additional warmth.

Sunday 28th August 2011 : Cres, Croatia.

We awake at 7am to be ready for breakfast in the dining area at 8 am. As we consum our light meal of cereal, coffee, bread and a hard boiled egg, the boat leaves port and starts toward the island of Losinj and the village of Mali Losinj. Today the wind is quite strong but still warm. The boat heals some degrees under the assault of the crisp breeze.

Although where we stop for a swim is sheltered, the wind is still crisp and the anchor is only just up to the task of holding the boat. Over the time we stay in the cove the boat drags anchor some distance. A strong current is running and most people choose not to swim. However one lady who does swim is unable to swim back to the boat and a rope is required to help her back. We express some concern to the crew as there are no life rings evident and the zodiac tender is significantly flat. However, apart from a mildly distressed swimmer, no harm has been done and we continue to Mali Losinj, arriving early afternoon.

Earlier in the afternoon, passengers had been asked if they wished to go into port early or stay out on the water. Due to a misunderstanding, the passengers had agreed to go into port early but then when in port ask to go out for a swim from the boat. Unfortunately, before this modified plan was actioned, two passengers had gone off walking and the boat is not able to leave. We are those two passengers.

We spend the afternoon walking around Mali Losenj. It is consierably bigger than Cres although buildings are of similar age, design and similarly varying in colour. We walk along numerous narrow passages from which dwellings directly opened.
A church spire had taken our interest and we decide to take a closer look. Navigating to the structure involves entering a maze of passages and walking up steps and along zigzag corridores in the general direction of our goal. Here and there we catch a glimpse of the spire from between the two and three storey buildings either side and adjust our direction. We eventually reach the church built in a relatively large square with chequered black and white flagstones defining the church grounds.On entering the church, there is a wealth of religious icons, alters and artworks, all masterfully crafted and all centuries old.

We leave the church and find a statue which looks like it has been reclaimd from the sea. It is made of wood with copper cladding. The wood over the centuries has largely rotted from the copper skin and some of the copper itself has been lost through corrosion. It sits on a rough stone base and is prevented from falling over by two loops of rope round the waist and through a corroding iron grille. With so many ancient artifacts, it must be difficult to know what to restore or mount appropriately.

We walk past a derelict building, the doors of which are lightly chained shut but through which a glimpse can be had of the stone interior. We muse on how it would be to buy such a building and restore it. The feeling quickly passes as we consider the logistics of getting building materials to the site via the narrow laneways and steps.

As night falls, the town is again transformed into a bustling, bright market and eatery. Soft street lights create a magical mood and waiters again cajol patrons. We select an appropriate area to eat but are informed, again in that rather off hand fashion, that there is not room for us. No suggestion that we should return in 10 or 15 minutes. We continue to another area where there are tables on the street, however this too is full. This time, thought, the waiter says there there are some tables available inside if that suits us. In order to round our cultural experience we accept.

Inside there is a slight musty smell and the bench seats are hard despite the cushions. A friendly waitress comes to take our drink orders. There are no dry wines so I agreed to one of the sweet white wines. She returns shortly to say they have none of the first and the second is vermouth. Water will be fine then. But she presses and I instead accepted a beer, which is served in a long stemmed wine glass. Our meals consist of tasty small fish with vegetables and bread. We choose not to have desert and the bill is 170 kuna, about A$35. After a pleasant stroll back to the boat, we enjoy another comfortable sleep.

Monday 29th August 2011 : Mali Losenj , Croatia.

Next morning we go for a short walk, aware that the boat is to leave at 8am for Molat, a tiny town on a tiny island with few facilities. Because of that we have booked in for the Captain's Dinner on board.

We cruise calm waters until midday where we moor for lunch and swimming. We stay there until 6pm. Waters are calm, blue, clear and warm. This time the zodiac has been inflated and is in the water. There is also a rope from the boat to the rocky edge of the coast, both there to ensure no repeat of the problem of the day before.

I swim to the shore wearing diving boots as there are sea urchins in the area. Unfortunately, (here we go again) as I climb onto the rocks, I slip and cut my hand. A fair lump of skin is left on the rock, so I return to the boat keeping my hand out of the water, although some blood splashes into the water. Back on board, I explain to disbelieving Europeans that in Oz, land of everything that bites, stings or invenimates, we try not to bleed excessively into sea water as sharks have acute senses of smell. What I had not noticed was a strip of skin neatly excised from my posterior. Although we see no evidence of big fish having been attracted, the poor 20 something girl who is one of the ship's crew and is designated first-aid officer suffers the fate of having to apply antiseptic and sticking plaster to the wound. I suggest she had probably not signed up for that and she readily agrees. Mind you, her embarrassment may be less than mine as numerous persons offer advice on what should be done for my bleeding posterior. I can't even offer comment as I cannot see what had happened. After a relaxing afternoon, at 6 we weigh anchor and motor a short distance to Molat.

Dinner is scheduled for 7.30 pm so we have a little over an hour to explore the small town. This is more than adequate as there is little infrastructure. The highlights are a clock tower at whose door one can hear the clock tick and a drawing of two people on a church door indicating that men and women in shorts are not to enter the church. With these as highlights, it should be apparent that there is not a lot to see. In any case, many of the buildings are quite modern among ruins of old buildings. As it happens there is a number of eating places so we need not have had the Captain's Dinner. However our dinner is served outside on the aft deck and a thoroughily enjoyable night is had by the 16 passengers who have opted for the dinner. We talk until midnight then retired to our cabins for a peaceful night's sleep.

Tuesday 30th August 2011: Molat , Croatia.

Next morning, the boat leaves at 8 am while we have our breakfast. Zadar is the destination, far larger than anything we have visited on the cruise so far. Along the way we stop for swimming and spend most of the day at anchor in a calm, secluded bay enjoying the water and the warmth.

About 3.30pm we motor for 30 minutes to Zadar, a spralling city with numerous outlying villages and a walled city, old Zadar, near the dock.

Where there are too many boats for the available berths, a common problem, boats raft up along side one another. In Mali Losinj, one boat had rafted up to us, but in Zadar the boats are rafted 4 deep, we being number 3. To get to the dock requires large steps over watery chasms to go from boat to boat. However, this is normal in Croatia and somewhat mirrors what is done for car parking. Fortunately, with cars, there is no requirement to scramble through each to get to the pavement. However, if that were required, I am sure it would happen without a second thought.

The walled city is entered by a tunnel. A slight oversight seems to be that there are only walls on two sides, but maybe foes here are easily confused. The buildings within the walled city date back to a few centuries AD. They are impressive and very aesthetically pleasing.The alleyways are not as narrow and numerous as in Marli Losinj but the buildings tower even higher either side.

There is an archealogical dig which has exposed ruins from Roman times with carved stone blocks, foundations, columns and other relics all accessible to those walking by. A tower with an observation platform and probably hundreds of spiral steps can be climbed. In deference to Ro's floating cartlidge in her knee and the heat of the night we don't but our photos show the magnificence of the structure, especially at night time.

We walk around the old city for some hours deciding what, if anything, we will have for dinner. We eventually settle on some salad rolls mainly because we cannot decide on anything else. Bad choice as it happens.

Near the water on the unwalled side of the city, modernity meets the ancient. One display is an array of solar panels set into the pavement which flash red, blue, yellow and assorted other colours. A little out of keeping with the theme I feel. There is also a set of organ pipes unique in the world which are powered by the waves on the sea. A melodious if somewhat repetitive chorus eminates, somewhat reminescent of whale calls.
As we are starting to experience wifi withdrawal symptoms, we go to a wifi cafe and have some coffee while checking emails and uploading the most recent cerebral meanderings. Once again, the evening is perfect.

Returning to our boat, we clamber over the two inner boats to reach our boat. After a short time on the sun deck enjoying the evening, we retire to our cabin. It is somewhat more claustrophobic due to the proximity of the next boat and air circulation and noise are less than optimal.

Wednesday 31 August 2011 : Zadar, Croatia.

Next morning we discover another downside to being rafted up to another boat. At 5.30am, Princez Diana, an attractive boat of similar size to us, starts to experience severe intestinal problems when her generator is started. The cooling water pipe must be a little too large so she burp and gurgles at quite an elevated volume, rendering further sleep impossible. We are thankful that she had not had cabbage the previous night.

After breakfast, another day in paradise begins. Calm waters mark our 4 hour trip to Rab, another walled medieval city. During the trip we stop for two swimming sessions. We have not seen any sharks and assume there are none about. However, one of the crew mentions that they had seem some as we motored along, so they are wary about where we anchor. We can only assume that they share this information with us Aussies in the mistaken belief that we keep them as pets, along with all the other bitey things we have. However, all passengers are accounted for as we left so it is sharks none, boat 26, which is the way we preferr it (if you don't include smokers). Thern after our second swim stop we enter Rab about 5.30pm.

We have noticed how clean everything is in Croatia. Where ever there are boats, there are people cleaning and polishing. In Rab, we notice cleaners sweeping and removing rubbish early in the morning, working from bicycle powered cleaning carts.

Rab has a medieval walled city which is extremely well preserved. Although the buildings show their original character and an appropriate amount of decay, all the now familiar narrow passages are paved with a non slip and even stone which, though contemporary, is completely in keeping with the stone used in the buildings. It makes the area a joy to explore.

The bell tower we had not climbed in Zadar was repeated in design here and we decide to climb that. A sign advises climbing at own risk. And risk there is. I cannot imagine in our protected Australian environment that tourists would get to the first step. The climb consists of narrow, steep ladders between stone floors at about 3 metre separations. On the penultimate floor, we share a cramped space with a set of 3 bells, with electric motors and chain drives to operate the 1 metre diameter bells. We hope that the bells will not operate with us near by as they would be deafening. The final climb is up two flights of steep steel ladders which exit through a small stone hole onto an open observation platform probably 50 metres above the ground. We hope the stone ballustrade will not succumb to centures of ravaging by wind and sea spray. I find it a bit unnerving as I have an uncomfortable urge to jump, an urge I have so far resisted. But the view is magnificent. Climbing down from the observation platform involves reversing through the small hole and tentatively placing one's foot on the top rung before the careful descent to the bell support.

The journey down involves some inexpressable agreement between those below and those above as there is only one staircase per level and room for only one on the stairs. But somehow it works itself out. Perhaps the most difficult protocol is determining how to ascertain the ladder is vacant without looking up the dress of women above. Perhaps for some the protocol is reversed.

We spend another few hours combing the passageways, with unexpected treasures around every twist and turn. The warm evening air and the soft lighting add to the beautiful setting.

Thursday 1st September 2011: Rab , Croatia .

Next morning we leave for the island and town of Krk. Stopping along the way for swimming, we luxuriate in the warm turquoise waters. We walk to an abondoned lighthouse.

After lunch we travel closer to Krk again stopping for a swim. Life is relaxed and peaceful. At 4pm we continue a short way to our destination.

Krk also has the remnants of a medieval wall and similar passages weave between 2 storey buildings. Our impression is that the town is less clean than others visited. We are slightly medievalled out and the ooh-aah factor is noticably less. Furthermore, along the waterfront, the quaint fishing boats are replaced by inflatable boats for hire. The stalls offer more tourist trivia and their numbers and size are increased. Prices vary considerably, with many goods displayed having no pricetag, presumably to facilitate variation according to how the stall holder perceives the wealth of the tourist.
Later in the evening, while discussing our experiences with other passengers, we watch a long inflatable boat with two large outboards head out to sea with another load of thrill seekers. We decide to take a ride. Six fellow passengers and one crew member climb into the vessel. The seats are like saddles with safety harnesses over shoulders and around waists. The boat slowly leaves the port heading for calm open sea. The engines open to full throttle and we accelerate to full speed. The boat is thrown from side to side and tight circles are executed at high speed. This continues for 15 minutes until the alloted time has expired. There is some thunder and lightening while we are thrown about the seas. While the lightening provides a specticular light show, we are pleased not to be part of its path to earth and it is with some relief that we return to port.

Exhilorated by our experience we decide to walk for a while. Although the food stalls have closed, the bars and night life are in full swing. We walk past a girl dancing on a podium at a less than frenetic pace. One of our party climbs onto a vacant podium and gyrates to the wild applause of patrons. Now that's how to table top dance! We continue walking, returning to the boat by 1 am for a well earned sleep.

Friday 2nd September 2011 : Krk , Croatia.

Our final day dawns slightly overcast. There are even some rain drops during the morning but the temperature remains idyllic. We stop for our last swim and enjoy lunch by a rocky beach, one of the few we have encountered during our trip. Far from the sandy expanses we are used to in Australia, the beach is a short stretch of steeply sloping pebbles not appropriate for comfortable sun bathing.

About 3 pm we motor back to Opatija for our final night. We explore Opatija in the same way we have explored other ports. However Opatija is far bigger than the other ports and the shops, night life and activities are far more varied and widespread. The old hotels and buildings are far more modern, only being one or two hundred tears old. The city is clean, safe and beautiful.

A group of us has lovely dinner served by an attentive and friendly waiter. As we walk back, activities abound, including what looks like a latin american dance competition on the terrace of an elegant century old building. Music booms out from speakers, with all its tango melodrama. Competitors strut and juxtopose their bodies with only the roses in teeth missing. Diners at tables arranged oround the dance floor applaud sedately as each dance concludes. As we walk from back toward the ship, the booming tango is gradually replaced by two operatic singers belting out their rendition of "Oh Sol o Mio" (pardon the operatic ignorance on many levels on my part).

We board our boat and reminisce our adventures and new friendships of the last week. This is a sad parting as we have made firm friends and shared many wonderful experiences. We retire to bed, except for our last evening's podium dancer who goes clubbing with the young crew members, to their mutual delight.

Saturday 3rd September 2011 : Opatjia , Croatia.

Next morning we pack and go to the dining room for our final breakfast. The relatively quiet and short breakfasts of earlier in the week have been replaced by noisy, laughter filled extended meals. But the time arrives for farewells, which occupy another hour. Finally we are back in our "L'escargot de wheels" ready for what is next in store.
We head toward Plitvicka Jezera (also called Plitvice), a set of inland lakes in a national park and about 150 km away. By now, we are getting used to narrow roads, getting ready for turns and are generally better prepared for navigation.

Some of the roads have sheer drops down perhaps 100 metres to the sea and small concrete blocks or at best low stone walls are built to prevent cars leaving the road. Unnervingly, some are broken.

A further problem with the roads is the narrowness combined with the number of motorbikes. At one point we see the result of incautious overtaking by a motorbike. We come apon an accident scene where a motorbike lies crumpled in front of a campervan which has run off the road and itself lies at an odd angle with doors open. It is a distubring scene which affects us for some time. Some hours later, we are nearly involved in a similar incident when a motorbike passes us too close to an oncoming vehicle, just squeezing in front of us with probably 30 metre to spare and narrowly avoiding a 180 kmh collision.

As we travel we spy a petrol station with an LP gas pump. Maybe our chance to get the tank filled, something we have been trying to do without success since we left Charroux. This search has accounted for numerous excursions off our planned (and in many cases unplanned) route. I drive into the station (well not quite into.....that has yet to come) and ask about LP gas. We are directed to a pump well away from the petrol and diesel pumps.
I have driven motorhomes on many occasions and have prided myself on never having done any overhead damage. I can no longer maintain that pride. As I turn toward the pump, there is a noise I would prefer not to hear as the steel awning over the pump is slightly modified. The station attendent holds his head with both hands and I abruptly stop. Fortunately, as I back away, there is only slight damage evident on either the awning or the van. Unfortunately, the adaptors I have are not suitable for connection of the gas nozzle so we are still without a refill. When I mention the awning damage, the attandant waves us away with a comment of 'No matter' or something similar.

We continue on to our destination, climbing over the steep mountain range and eventually reach the lakes. We decide to stay at a camping ground with a view to spending the next day exploring the lakes. A slight impediment is my foot which for some reason has become inflamed and which makes walking difficult. Ro finds what might be a sting from some creature and removes it. Maybe tomorrow the swelling will have gone.

We had asked at the national park what camping was available, so having been told of a campsite by a river, we head 15km toward the camp, hoping for a swim as it is still quite hot. What we have not been told is that the river is dry this time of the year. However it is getting late in the afternoon now, so by the time we set up, we have cooled to a tolerable level.

We settle in for the night, once again enjoying the lack of flies and mosquitoes. This is probably our best sleep for the past two weeks. On the boat, having a cabin port side had always resulted in our receiving all the noise from the nearby revelries. Last night in Opatija, the noise continued until 6am.

Sunday 4th September 2011 Plitvice Lakes , Slovenia.

Our long sleep results in our getting up at 9 am and we do not clear our campsite until 10.30 when we head for the National Park. The entrance fee is 110 kuna each or A$22. That cost includes boat rides, bus rides and the walks within the park.

All the walks are either marked tracks or raised timber boardwalks. The scenery is magnificent with aqua hued lakes fed by many waterfalls, some towering above the water surface. The lakes step down in a fashion reminiscent of Katherine in Northern Territory in Australia. Fish abound and swim in schools of hundreds of varying sizes from 50mm to 400mm. Ducks abound. All seem to live in harmony, untroubled by humans who are not allowed to fish, swim or otherwise interfere with the natural environment. The unfortunate exception is cigarette butts which, as elsewhere, abound, littering the otherwise unspoiled environment.

We walk for over an hour past waterfalls and deep aqua lakes to a point where we will take an electrically powered boat ride across the biggest of the five lakes. At the end of the trip we can take a bus back or walk further to another bus stop. We choose the latter and start trekking. Along the way we see more wonderful waterfalls and beautiful natural scenes. All around, the banks are covered with conifers, silver birches and other deciduous trees, some starting to change to autumn colours. Finally we ask some walkers coming toward us how far to the next bus station and are informed the path does not lead that way so we retrace our steps. Croatia is clean, modern and its people helpful. But their signage leaves something to be desired.

Along the way, we keep an eye out for aluminium cans and loose nails on the boardwalk. The former to fix a cover on the van's roof and the latter to fix a hinge. We find the can but cannot extract a nail. We don't try too hard with the nails as it would be poor form to have a boardwalk collapse to fix our hinge. As we walk we sing our theme song:

"Overground Underground, Wombeling free
The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we
Making good use of the things that we find
The things that the everyday folk leave behind......"

Periodically, Ro murmers something about Steptoe and son.
We eventually get back to the bus stop. The bus is a huge Mercedes truck with two carriages filled with timber seats. But it is very high quality and the chairs are comfortable.

By now we are a little footsore, me especially as my foot is still somewhat swollen. Consequently we are pleased to be driven back to the parking area. Or so we think. In actual fact, the bus stops 2 km back from the carpark and we have to trudge back on foot.

But this path is now 50 metre above our original path earlier in the afternoon and the view is spectacular. Despite this, we are pleased to reach our little home of which we have become quite fond even with allowances for her shortcomings.

We decide to stay at the same camping ground which was quite pleasant. We stop at a supermarket which has a logo very similar to MacDonalds. I would imagine there were some discussions regarding this. We buy a bottle of Chardonnay, some carrots, some bread and some yoghurt then continue on to our camp. We locate a site and get ready for the night.

Monday 5th September 2011 : Plitvice Lakes , Slovenia.

Fortunately, the weather is a little cooler and the fridge is now working, aided by some ice in the freezer. Unfortunately the electronic igniter has decided to stop working so when we use power at night, relighting the gas requires a bit of disassembly of the bottom of the fridge to light the burner with a match. I will need to look at that soon....along with the hot water service and the heater, should we need it when we go to Germany. These little faults are invaluable to prevent me pining away for something to fix. I just hope our journey finishes before I fix everything. Fortunately there are a lot of little problems so I need not worry too much.

Didn't fix the jgniter (not a typo.....too much exposure to Croatian where a j is pronounced y). But did waste a morning. About 11 am we drive to where there is some wifi and try uploading some more of this waffle.

Our problem is deciding where to go next. Not such a bad problem to have but still needing resolution. Our plan was to head to Dubrovnik but the round trip is 1000km and we have seen numerous walled cities, for which Dubrovnik is renouned. Maybe we will leave that for the next trip.

Resolved! We will head back to Villach for tonight then go toward Vienna. Maybe. Tom Tom plots a route and we obediently follow directions. It is interesting to look at all the houses which are either abandoned or partly built. Presumably the worldwide move from country to city. Why one would do that I don't know.

About lunchtime we see another sign suggesting availability of gas. But as usual, there is no adaptor. But we take the opportunity to question a local as to how the speed limits work. How does one know after a speed limit has been declared when the general speed limit again applies? I have been reluctant to follow other drivers as they may be breaking the limit. But when there is a long line of cars following, one can assume one is going too slowly. However during the discussion with the local he states s that they don't know when the limits change either!

We pull into a wifi hotspot we see advertised about 1 pm with a view to calling home. However no one wants to talk except Judy although that is also with some effort. At times the discussion is clear and delay free, at times non existent and at times would seem to be crossed with a line to a whale conversation. But it is lovely to hear a familiar voice.
We continue and eventually see a sign to Plitvice. This is where we left two hours ago. Have we set the GPS to "ever decreasing circles" mode inadvertently? Or are Garmin and TomTom in cahoots? Anyway we are heading to Ljublijana so all is well.

Some hours later we get to the border between Croatia and Slovenia. The crossing out of Croatia takes about 15 minutes for some reason but we breeze through into Slovenia. We need to buy a vignette for use of the toll roads. This is sold from a mobile icecream van type vehicle. It is 15 euro for 7 days which is unfortunate as our previous one only ran out a day or 2 ago. But my travel money card will not talk! Was it skimmed at our last wifi spot when we checked how much was left? A moment or two of mild panic as we have too few notes and coins. I return to another little office and there is an ATM which does provide me some money. Back on the road again.

TomTom says we will arrive in Villach by 7.45 er... 7.46 er... 8.15, the time increasing with each little hold up. Also as we travel, TomTom assumes we will travel at motorway speeds. TomTom is optimistic. At long hills, our speed drops to 70 kmh as we take refuge in the truck lane.

We abandon hopes to reach Villach and instead opt for Camp Smlednik near Ljubljana. This is where we were to stay on out trip to Opatija but had instead continued onto Rovinja.
We are thankful to have a GPS as we drive along narrow roads through small delightful villages. Eventually we turn down a narrow lane into Camp Smlednik. The likelihood of finding this without the GPS would have been close to zero! We checkin and choose a campsite by the river. The camp is lovely and green, quiet, treed and is nestled among quaint buildings.

Dinner is available at 6 euro each. Ro has a deep fried trout and I have pork. A glass of wine is 0.90 euro but a taster is offered first which is almost a full glass. I accept the wine, so the glass is filled again. 13 euro for two dinners and two glasses of wine. Prices in both Croatia and Slovenia are low.

Tuesday 6 August 2011 : Ljubljana , Slovenia.

We sleep well with no noisy neighbours and a cooler night until the local rooster makes up for the lack of noise at 5.30am next morning.

There is nothing we need to do today so we spend a leisurely morning which includes calls to Scot and Jacinta. As it is convenient for Scot to log onto Skype, we can show him some live video of our van and the surrounding area. We had always intended doing that but our lower than expected internet access has meant this is the first time we have used video. Seeing our home in the background is a nice feeling and Scot enjoys the live video from our end.

By lunch time we are ready to sight see again. We travel back through the narrow streets and quaint villages. We intend avoiding the motorway in travelling the 20 km back to Ljubljana so we can see the local area. But a wrong turn sends us back to the motorway. As we intend staying at Camp Smlednik again tonight, we can take the long way home later.

In the city centre of Ljubljana we do as TomTom instructs and travel down a small road lined with taxis and buses to the dead end where we join taxis in a cramped pas de deux to return up the street. No one seems fussed as we move a bit forward to allow the last turning vehicle to creep past. The fact that we are in a vehicle too big to be there does not seem an issue. Everyone here is used to squeezing past in narrow roads or waiting until the oncoming vehicle can find a space to move over to allow clearance to past.
Next problem is where to leave the van. We wish we had a scooter or bicycles and will consider getting one or other. Eventually we find a spot off road in what seems to be a suburban street. We walk back toward the city centre which TomTom claims is 300 metre away, if you can fly. In between are roads, rivers and buildings.

But we find our way into a quaint old area where we have iced coffee by the river. Although rivers and tributaries cross the old sector back and forth, the high walls make it seem more like Venice (although we have not seen that city yet). We are directed to the centre of the old sector and are captivated by the buildings and ambience. Cars are excluded but bicycles and motorized bicycles abound, with some careering at breakneck speed with little but the high pitched bee like buzz to warn of their approach.

The old city is captivating and we have fallen in love with it. The newer part of the city is like any other, maybe even a bit more shabby than many but the old sector has a blend of rejuvenated buildings with original slightly decrepit but nonetheless charming buildings.

We come upon a train with 6 or 7 carriages which offers rides to Ljubljana Castle, high on the hill which overlooks the city. We buy tickets for 3 euro each and climb aboard. The loco is a diesel vehicle made up to look like a cute steam loco. The carriages are 4 wheel trailers which obediently track behind the loco. We negotiate narrow streets and obstacles then climb to the castle where we get out. We can get any other train back at 20 minutes past the hour.

The castle is an amazing architectural feat which keeps the ancient flavour of the castle but adds eclectic modernisations. It is difficult to describe the effect achieved, but with use of rusted steel columns, exposed original rock and concrete support structures, the effect is amazing. There is a courtyard where a band is playing, with tables and chairs available for food and drinks. We also walk around the castle on boardwalks, one of which passes through the tree canopy on a steel side of the hill. On returning to our train station, we walk up through a surreal space with a large stiral staircase, clear tables and chairs and boxes of clear stone crystals. Once again, the materials are so in keeping with the castle materials.

As we board the train, a local young woman with two children asks us the time in perfect English. We chat as her children play outside the train. I am impressed with how she lets her 3 year old (I guess) boy play on chairs, exploring and exposed to falling but learning his limits. When he reaches a certain point, she goes to prevent him exceeding his capabilities. This seems to be the way in these areas, which is how we were some decades ago before we became a nanny state. I think people are better equipped for life if they have some responsibility for their own actions. Maybe some injuries may occur on the way but life does involve some risks and we are better able to assess the risks if we have had some exposure to them. We noted this in climbing the tower in Rab and with our walking at the Plitvice Lakes.

The train takes off without warning. The little boy is on his mother's knee, but the 6 year old daughter is still by the chairs. I jump off and scoop her up. But before I can, she dashes to retrieve a favourite toy which is by the chair. By the time I have her in my arms, the train is at walking pace. I place her next to her mother and clamber in the carriage behind. The train stops because another passenger wants to board. All is well and we continue back to the old city, chatting to the mother who is a mathematician with a physicist husband whom she is picking up from Venice this weekend after a conference. We have a good conversation and after parting we regret not leaving some email address. But that is travel.

We walk a bit further, captivated at every turn. We stop to ask directions, unsure of the way back to the van. Does the person speak English. "Too right" or something similar is the Australian response. With a handful of Ozzies in Ljubljana, we choose two to ask. They are from Perth and have a map which they give to us as they are leaving that night.
We cross the river and below on a motorized barge, a brass band is playing.We return to our van and head back to our camp.

But on the way we have a few goodies to buy at the hardware store. Not having been to a Bunnings store for over three weeks, I am beginning to show signs of the DTs so it is with joy that I discover a store called Merkur which is bigger than Bunnings! One battery drill, one grinder, one extension lead, 2 tubes of sealant, two banana lounges, one hammer etc,etc and 150 euro later and I am feeling much better. The trembling has reduced and I am ready to work. With a few more aluminium cans, some duct tape and some bits of string, I will have the van better than new.

We return to Smlednik and have a light dinner prepared by Ro in the van. The fridge is now operating well, partly because of the cooler weather. I am now confident that if it were snowing outside, we could create ice in the fridge. This would also be helped by the fact that I have not fixed the heater yet. But we hope to stay clear of snow. And the igniter now works. It had stopped because the house battery was low in voltage. If the engine had been started, the igniter would have worked. There is nothing better than a problem which does not need to be fixed. Except perhaps for a problem which does not need to be fixed and which one has not spent 1 hour trying to fix.

Wednesday 7th September 2011 : Ljubljana , Slovenia.

Next day we decide to laze about. This is indeed a treat as we have been in the one location for 3 nights. But we still need to go back for a few hardware items and for some food. We also want to try again for gas while we are in Slovenia.

We follow TomTom on a wild goose chase to find an address where we will get some parts for the gas system. We decide to try Garmin again and the two try to outdo one another with one saying turn left here and the other saying turn right here. Neither takes us to the correct place, mainly because a human had given us the wrong address and we end up instead in an unmade company car park at 4.30 when the employees are trying to leave. Did I mention that there were road works also so we had fun with those too. Finally we get to a place which can sell us the gas. But as before we go back and forth finally finishing at a place which shows us a handfull of fittings, one of which is the one we have. At last! Someone who has our fitting, which we learn is German. Now the bad news. The adaptor which fits the German fitting........ was sold by the guy's colleague to a motorist two weeks ago!!!! Why that was done the guy did not know. Where we could get one he also did not know. It is like the old computer game of Where in the World is Carmen San Diago. Meanwhile, I have finally worked out which part on the guage is empty and we are approaching it. Maybe some snow would be helpful.

So back to the camp, stopping on the way for groceries and a small vacuum cleaner and another doona. We are starting to become adept at moving items from our path as we move from front to back of the van.

A quick repair or two. Fit an exhaust fan and the flexible duct bought at Merkur. Charge the drill, fix a broken hinge; I can feel the life force returning. Then up to the cafe for another couple of meals and wine for 13 euro and off to bed.

Thursday 8 September 2011 : Ljubljana , Slovenia .

After a good quiet sleep the next morning dawns. We are off to Graz in Austria. We enter our route on TomTom and answer Yes to Avoid Tollways. We want to see the little villages and countryside.

Our trip is 220 km and TomTom says it will take 4 hours, an average of under 60 kph. That suits us.

We leave Smlednik and start toward the alps over which we have to climb. This is what we had always envisioned. Passing through small villages of typical Slovenian/Austrian construction. As we get closer to the Alps, the road becomes serpentine and narrow.

We pull over frequently to let many motorbikes pass so they can enjoy the magnificent roads.This is a bikies dream and we wish we were on a bike too. We pass through quaint villages and single outlying houses and barns, frequently built right up to the road. We can imagine the snow on the buildings and notice on the rooves that there are metallic protrusions to prevent snow from dislodging at unexpected times. Frequently following rivers which still have clear cold water running, we can imagine the torrents when the snow is starting to melt. It is picture post card country.

At the Austrian border, we pass through now abandoned border checks. Since the EU, there are no checks on passports within the EU. The Shengen agreement means the first Shengen country stamps the passport and the last but those between don't need to.

We travel down the serpentine road on the Austrian side and stop for lunch by a stream. Just lush green trees, the sound of the water and us. For us, this is really what life is about. Being self contained in our motorhome means we can readily enjoy out of the way places, including tracks only meant for bicycles as was the case on this occasion due to a translation difficulty. Ro prepares a lovely salad lunch. It is much cooler now so she is far happer (and I am less happy....but deleriously happy none the less).

After lunch we continue, driving through village after village and tall fields of maize along narrow roads.

We climb over another mountain range. This is less serpentine but far steeper and we cannot get out of first gear. The views down into the valley are fantastic. All the buildings are those we imagine of Austria. It is like a dream.

Along the way, we stop for afternoon tea in a small forest of native deciduous trees, some just starting to turn to autumn shades.

We continue and eventually travel into Graz. Unfortunately I do mean into Graz. We expected TomTom to skirt around Graz as we are staying about 20 km out of the city. But, no. TomTom takes us through peak hour down laneways, dodging cars, trams, cyclists and pedestrians. Not content with this test, TomTom gets confused and changes her mind half way down the indicated street. After one loop, we manage to get back on track and arrive at our camp site by 6 pm.

It is quiet, charming and deserted but for the manager. I have an opportunity to use my battery drill to wreak a little havock with the heater and hot water service (which has been of no service to date). I am able to fix the heater, mainly by fiddling and can see a wire off on the hot water. But I need to remove it and this involves being double jointed in most of my joints. The advantage is that I can sleep in the glove box tonight which is handy as every other space is taken by bits I have removed to extract the water heater.
I will be happy when all the gas appliances are working. Pity we won't be able to use them as we can't get gas.

After a delicious dinner we go to bed early to be ready for our adventures in Graz tomorrow. We have learned about taking our van into cities so will leave it at a park and ride and go in by bus. It will be fun to see if we can find the van again on our return.

Friday 9 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

Next morning we travel toward the Park n Ride. We spend some time finding the Park n Ride which may come as no surprise to readers of our previous escapades. Finally we find it. Hurrah! Followed closely by: Bugger! Our van is too tall. But as is usually the case with our escapades, we come across a cathedral high on a hill called Mariatrost Basilica. As is also usual, it was at the top of a steep road. But our van makes it to the top in first gear all the way.

The Basilica is probably the most beautiful man made item I have ever seen. Which is really saying something. There are few people inside as it is not on the tourist route. The condition is superb, through constant attention, and the sense of well being is amazing. The artistry and craftsmanship is amazing. We spend an hour or so just enjoying the solitude. Little disturbs the quiet but for whispered speech by some which is manifested as an etherial deep reverberating tone.

There is an eating place next to the Basilica which seems appropriate for a lunch stop. It is outdoors in summer with tables and chairs on a pebbled terrace. The mittagessen menu is mushroom soup followed by trout in a butter sauce, potatoes and snow peas. It is served piping hot and is truely delicious. And it costs 14 euro for the two of us!

It is too late for Graz city but we have been given a clue as to where we can get gas so we decide continue our quest; but to no avail. At a Maccas, we google LPG and a few servos come up. 50 km away! Next year we will ensure the tank is full and shorten our journey by a week. We return to our campsite, still without a gas refil.

A decision is made that next morning we will travel to Graz on the bus. Some directions from the camp manager and the challenge that an 82 year old resident walks to the stop in 15 minutes and our plans are set.

Saturday 10 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

Next morning we start on our 15 minute walk. As we walk, Ro sees a sign and jokes that it probably says Beware the Bull! It does. And we don't know how to say "Nice bull" in German. Perhaps walking over that field is not a good idea. In any case, we can see the road we think we need across another field full of harvested pumpkins. Many acres of fields have rows and rows of pumpkins, presumably for livestock in winter. At the far side of the field is a creek which we can't cross. As we walk the perimeter of the field, 15 minutes comes and goes but finally a path becomes to the road becomes evident. But where is the bus stop and which direction do we need to take the bus? A passing cyclist provides the answer to both questions and we walk another km to the bus, which arrives promptly. As we travel toward Graz, we address the tricky problem of what bus we are on and how we will find it for the return journey and where was it we got on. One passenger answers Nien to Sprechen Sie English? She probably does though. Another answers "A little" but doesn't. Between my 45 year old school German and her 45 year old school English we manage to converse, but with a lot of puzzled looks. She kindly points out the hospital which I say to her I hope I will not need. However in hindsite I realise that that may actually have been a threat resulting from frustration. No matter.

At Graz everyone except the driver and us gets off the bus. We only notice after the bus leaves the stop that this is the case. So we ask the driver if the last stop was the one for the "Alt Stadt' (old city). It was. A short walk back and we are where we want to be.

The Alt Sadt won the UNESCO Best Preserved European City in 1999 and 2003. And it is very impressive with modernity carefully hidden behind old and ancient facades. The main strasse has trams running down it but no cars or trucks. Bicycles (but no scooters), pedestrians and trams interact in harmony with everyone knowing the rules and behaving courteously.

Our exploration will follow a tourist guide of important buildings along a walk within the Alt Stadt which would be 3 or 4 km square. Courtyards abound, some small and functional, some larger with buildings well displayed. The first highlighted square has four buildings of various ages and styles, one of which is an Armoury from medieval times with 30,000 relics of armour and other generally non mechanised weapons plus rifles, pistols. We understand the store is generally as it has been for centuries with the relics being cleaned annually. Quite a job.

I find viewing weaponry rather soul destroying and it makes me think roll on artificial intellegence as computers would surely do a better job than man has done to fellow men and the planet. However, the opportunity to view such a store of relics was too good to miss. For 6 euro (including a seniors discount which for the first time I remembered to ask for....but that may be my memory going) we visited the exhibition and were dismayed after seeing one room to find we were back at the exit. What a rip off , we thought. But what about the 30,000 relics mentioned in the pamphlet? Mutter mutter. But as we exit, we notice a staircase.... to another 4 floors! There are rows and rows of body armour from chain mail suits with 12,000 rings to full suits with head shields with small slits for eyes. There are racks of lances, swords, rifles and pistols. There are cannon and drums and horse armour. Fascinating but troubling to know all the equipment was intended to kill or protect from being killed. Nevertheless, very interesting from a historical perpsective.

We move on to other buildings and coutryards and up to the Graz Cathedral, built over 25 years in the 1400s. It is probably more impressive than MariaTrost Basilica but, maybe partly because of the tourists, does not have the effect as the Basilica .Maybe also because it is not our first but also my impression is that the Basilica has more natural light as it is in the open at the top of a hill. Again, the craftsmanship, artistry and design are astounding. Furthermore, an organist is playing the huge pipe organ as we soak up the atmosphere. From the ceiling 30 or 40 metres above hang chandeliers on long support wires. I observe one rotating about 10 degrees and back again over 3 or 4 minutes and imagined this ever so slow movement has been continuing for centuries.

We continue to a double spiral staircase built in 1499 which is formed in stone and quite remarkable. The steps above form part of the handrail and central column of each spiral below. How it was crafted is amazing and the effect is stunning.

On to a wooden facaded bakery shop where we have coffee and apple strudel, both exquisite, if coffee can be exquisite. The atmosphere may have helped a bit!

Overlooking Graz is the Graz Schloss (castle) which can be reached by a funicular rail car which has operated for 100 years. However,the current one is very modern. It traverses a 60% incline towed up by cable. We are fortunate to get a front seat, although the vehicle is such that those sitting behind are well above and will get a similar view, just not of the track. As our car starts its ascent, the other car, which has disgorged its passengers while ours are loaded, passes us on a short length of double track. Having passed one another, each car continues on the one track.

At the top, we inspect the typical 14th century archway and yer common or garden 10th century ruin. All rather pedestrian now. We continue to where a glass lift lowers through the mountain back to street level. During WW2, 6.5 km of tunnles were dug into the mountain for protection of up to 40,000 people during air raids.There are 20 entrances and we walk through one tunnel segment back to the main street.

It is getting late so we head back to where we think we will find the bus. On the way we are tempted back into the arcaded inner courtyard of the Landhaus, a masterpiece of Italian Renaissance, where a brass band is playing. We spend some time listening then walk to the end of the main street. As we have not eaten, we order a schnitzel from a cafe de wheels. Typical Austrian food with a mere hint of Fast Food. The vendor, who is "from the newest country Kosovo" studying civil engineering in Austria, is able to direct us to our bus stop.

With a bit of wandering, we find our bus stop and luckily a bus arrives to meet us. We show the driver some scribbling from the morning and confirm that it will stop at the town we have written. Ro checks with the driver whether we can eat on the bus and he responds in a manner indicating he doesn't understand. I go to repeat the question in dreadful German. Meine Frau fragt is essen verboten? (my interpretation of "My wife asked if eating is forbidden") He answers that it is but it will be OK. I wonder if it is extreme bad manners so proceed to eat my schnitzel as surrepticiously as possible.

We had noted on Garmin where we had boarded the bus so are relying on that to tell us when are near our stop. But Garmin cannot see the satelite on the bus, despite my helping by holding it near windows and assorted other places (See, they are not under the seat, or in the top luggage racks).

We instead hope we will recognise the stop in time to actually get the bus to stop. However, as we had shown the driver an approximation to a town name, that is where we stopped. I use some German to tell him we needed one more stop. So we stop there and I use more German to say one more stop. Finally we stop at the stop we need, a mere 3 km walk from our campsite.

Sunday 11 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

We sleep well tonight. Our plan had been to visit Eggenberg Schloss next day but we intended taking the van. Instread, the camp manager says we can use his car as it will be easier than parking the van. We accept and set off about 9.30 .... and again at 10.00 after we have to return for my driving license in case we are stopped by police.

The castle is huge. Taking 60 years to complete, it was started in 1625 and was built as a sign of power by an influencial prince. With 1 metre thick walls and three storeys, it was no small undertaking. Furthermore, the family did not use it and Prince Hans Ulrich von Eggenberg died at the age of 66 before it was complete.

The castle has expansive gounds which are green and lush and full of ancient trees and a number of purpose built gardens. The castle was built with philosophical concepts to do with time. There are 28 rooms per level and three extra areas to represent days in the month. There are 52 windows to represent the weeks in a year and there are 12 something elses (my terminology, not theirs) to represent the months.There is a dry moat around the castle which serves to philosophically isolate the castle from the rest of the world.
After looking over the gardens, the planetary garden and the rose mound, we walk back to the castle. Externally, the castle is showing its age. Probably understandably after 400 years. I am amazed by the rooves of these old buildings. They look entirely original with dips and valleys due to ravages of time. Yet they don't look to have been patched up at all.

There is a tour in English starting shortly so we wait for that. It is spectacular. We start with the Planetary Room which has various frescos depicting star signs and the days of the week. There are frescos on every ceiling and wall all carefully restored, each taking up to 1 year to complete. A room takes 3 to 5 years to restore and all those on the top floor are finished. The tour takes 1 hour and allows us to be transported back to those times.

After the tour we go to the first floor where there is an art gallery with 24 rooms all with original paintings and statues. Once again all magnificent.

Then back to the campsite for the night. As a thank you to the manager for use of his car, we offer to wash it. However after doing half, an irate man vehimently berates us in german as "waschen auto ist verboten". How we were expected to know that, especially when informed in german, I don't know. We finish hosing off the suds while he stands and offers a tirade of abuse. Our first less than helpful Austrian. It is unfortunate that his negative interaction is in danger of being more memorable than all the nice Austrians who have helped us. We will dismiss this as a forgettable event.

Monday 12 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

We have decided that Today will be a day of non sightseeing. Also it is our darling daughter's birthday so we want to call her, which involves finding some wifi.
I work on verious small problems then by 1 pm we are ready to go wifi searching. We find Maccas and spend some time on the net before heading back to the camp.

We are using Garmin as it seems OK for local trips. However, in Graz, both GPSs get confused and say things like Turn Here then when we do, they recalculate and say do a U turn! So we largely ignore them in Graz, having some landmarks which we now recognise. Once clear of the city (wiich is only five or six km....Graz's population is about 300,000) the GPSs seem to know where they are and generally perform well.

We return via MariaTrost bacilica to see whether they offer dinner. They do, but we need to return to camp to change and we need some provisions. We ultimately decide to stay at the camp for dinner and borrow an electric oven on which to cook to preserve dwindling gas.

Tuesday 13 September 2011 : Graz, Austria .

This morning the missed opportunity of an authentic Austrian meal plays on our minds and we decide to stay one more day to go to dinner tonight.

Our day is spent relaxing. That is between fitting a reversing camera to the van. It has been somewhat nerve racking reversing and wondering if anything is obscured behind the van. This was increased a day or two ago when a car was behind and I could not see it and its toot was assumed to be from somewhere else. Fortunately the vehicle reversed thus avoiding an unfortunate meeting. The fitting of the camera takes 2 minutes. Routing the cable takes 3 hours! Before the cabling is complete, dinner time has arrived. Final connection can wait until tomorrow.

We dress in our finery. Understand that this is a relative term in my case but an absolute in Ro's case. (Did I get away with that?). Ro is starting to try driving, albeit on a shortish dirt road. It is amusing that I have to mention the side of the road in the same way Ro had to mention the curb to me. Must be a northern hemisphere thng.
I drive to the basilica from the end of the dirt road. Although it is borderline warm, we decide to sit inside for the authentic interia. A waiter arrives with german menus, which he swaps for english ones after we ask what each item is. However when we choose, we have to give names in german as he is not familiar with the english names. Will be interesting to see what we end up with. Fortunately Big Mac and fries got msinterpreted to be two lovely Austrian meals which were very tasty, if rather too salty.

The Big Mac thing is not entirely fictitious as we decide to go to Maccas for some wifi for wifee. It is interesting that we enter Macdonald's into Garmin and she takes us there but finally gives up as we miss another turn. So we enter another Maccas and follow directions, only to end up at the Maccas we expected to end up at! The ways of GPSs are indeed mysterious.

We return home for another peaceful night's sleep.

Wednesday 14 September 2011 : Graz , Austria

Next morning it is our intention to finish the reversing camera wiring then to travel to Vienna. A bit of cutting and taping and the camera is powered up. All is perfect except that the image is up side down. A quick twist of the camera and all is well. By 9.30 we are on the road.

Again we choose to take the long way. It is actually 6 km shorter but 90 minutes longer. But we see so much more than on a motorway and get a true feel for the country. We stop on the way to buy some bits and pieces and haver minor problems with our travel card. A trip to the local hole in the wall and back to Lidel and we are back on our way.

By 3 pm we are in what we later realise is outer Vienna. In our ever present quest for gas, we decide to visit an engineering works which does gas conversions. We weave up tiny streets and down narrow laneways and finally down a one way street to the address we have. You can imagine our surprise when there is no engineering works in the centre of commercial Vienna. Ignoring the snide chortle of the two GPSs we decide to head for our camp site. Mind you, we also make snide remarks to the GPSs as they lead us down alleyways which most likely have never seen the likes of a motorhome in their centuries of observation of man’s folley.

After negotiating Vienna at now close to peak hour, we arrive at our camp site. We settle in for the night but choose to dine at the camp café where we have a snitzel and kartoffelsalad for 5 euro.

Thursday 15 September 2011 : Vienna , Austria.

The morning dawns somewhat overcast but not cold. The previous night we had again told our tale of woe regarding searching all europe for camping car gas. The camp manager and numerous others had discussed the problem with a dutch fellow camper having translated for us. The camp manager had assured us he would provide us with an address where we could get gas. True to his word, he provides an address only 50 minutes and 35 km from where we are now. To say we embark on this journey with some skepticism would be an understatement. However, if our gas runs out, we have no refrigeration and we don’t want to contemplate that. Off we go, stopping along the way to look at emails and try to pick up a phone message from Skype, the latter being a total waste of time.

Finally we arrive 10 km past the outskirts of Vienna, too afraid to hope our search for gas will be over. With a feeling of trepidation I approach the door. It is locked! I go back to the van but fortunately a lady who speaks english opens the door. She does not know if they have adaptors. Grrrr! But if we go next door, we can check with the pump operator. We do and he does! Finally we have a full tank of gas. Tonight we kill the fatted pig! Oh, I remember that I forgot the pig and I am learning to be Buddhist anyway. Perhaps we will settle for hot water instead of the feast.

We have also been toying with the idea of buying bikes or a scooter or something to put on the back of the van. We call in to a store offering bicycles for 210 euro discounted from 300 euro. We don’t want to spend that much but Ro asks at another shop how we might get some second hand bikes and is given an address about 6 km away. Unfortunately it transpires that it is in the middle of Vienna in peak hour. But in the absence of that knowledge we perform the usual GPS fiasco and eventually end up at the bicycle shop. Unfortunately, relatively junky bikes are 150 euro so the 200 euro looked quite good. Maybe we will just hire for the time being.

We return to our campsite. We are gradually learning when to ignore the GPSs random instructions of ‘turn left no no turn right no no do a u-turn…..’ so we now allow them to adjust their makeup before taking any advise. On returning, we try our hot water and after a short time we have it ready. The heater also works, but it is not cool enough for that. We have dinner and settle in for an early night, which has been our custom of late.

Friday 16 September 2011: Vienna , Austria.

Today we will hire some bicycles and see how Vienna treats two wheeled travellers. Vienna is very flat and well services by bike tracks. We are still tossing up whether to go by public transport but ultimately settle on bikes. We can rent them from the camp for 5 euros per day so we go to organize that. However, without a word of english, the camp cafe person informs us that their four bikes have not been returned. A disaster, in her words. But she gives us directions to a bike rental shop about 3 km away so we go off with an address searching for the rental outlet.

An hour and a half later after detours, asking locals directions and the usual meandering we submit to defeat and dejectedly return to camp for morning tea. We decide to go looking for cheaper bikes to purchase and head to the nearest shopping centre. There we see a Toys R Us, a familiar name which has 26” bikes on sale for 130 euro. We check two nearby sports stores which also have bikes on special….for 499 euro. Back to Toys where we purchase two 26” ladies bikes as the only man’s bike is 24”. I can cope with pink more easily than I can cope with having my kneecaps in my armpits. We proceed to assemble the bikes in the carpark, I suspect to the amusement of the locals. We have a bike rack on the van so attach the bikes to return to the camp, getting air for the tyres along the way. A little trap for new players is the compressed air system in the garages. The hose is very short, requiring some close manoeuvering to avoid removing the bikes. The silly thing is that you can remove the guage and hose assembly, but then it is not connected to the compressed air. But finally there is a eureka moment when I realize that the guage is sitting on a small air reservoir which is charged when the unit is docked on its home position. One can take the whole assembly to each tyre and adjust its pressure without any trailing hose. Even if the tyre is completely flat, leaving the unit docked gives continuous air. A great idea.

We return to camp for lunch and prepare to go on our maiden bike journey.

Armed with Garmin (without knowing if her makeup is in order) and a Radfahren map (map of bike routes) we head out of the safety of our camp. Following the signs, which are unmistakably bicycles, we traverse roads and tracks via bridges with underslung bike paths. Although the direction to Vienna, about 6 km away, is not clear to us (we have been directionally disoriented in Europe) we manage to find the way. The bridge over the Donau (or Danube to us) has a large spiral bike path at either end which elevates us to the underslung bike path via three or four turns of 15 metre diameter. Bikes are very common in Vienna and are seen everywhere, either parked or being riden. There are actually three Donaus. The Alt Donau, little more than a stream, the Neue Donau, quite a large waterway and the Donau, a massive waterway with 100 metre riverboats including hundreds of cabins for extended voyages on the river.

We ride along the bank, our goal being to reach the KaiserJubileeKirch, a huge cathedral which we had wanted to see. Although gargantuan in proportions, the outside has rubbish accumulated and the inside is unspectacular in adornment although the towering ceilings inspire awe, which presumably is their intent. There is also a large amount of scaffolding which detracts from the effect somewhat.

Returning by retracing our path, we arrive back at our campsite about 4 hours after leaving and just as dark is falling, about 8 pm.

The camp café has some abendessen which is vegetarian and does not look too appetising. Instead we have dinner in the van.

Saturday 17 September 2011:Vienna , Austria.

Our intention had been to drive the van to Vienna and cycle to various points in the city. However, Ro is suffering a severe case of cheap bike bottom and needs a day out of the saddle. Instead we find a parking spot and walk to Schonbrunn Schloss, our main attraction for the day. We have to park some distance from the Schloss, but it turns out that the gardens extend more than a kilometer toward where we have parked so we can walk through the garden. Quite some garden. We first see a hot house built from cast iron and double glazed glass, a recent addition at no doubt huge expense. The building is huge and ornate and indicates all that is to come. The paths in the garden are long and straight, radiating from water features or between buildings. Manicured trees and shrubs border eaxh path. As we approach the palace, the number of people increases. This is tourism in Europe.

The main feature garden extends from the castle at one end to the Gloriette, another building on a hill probably 1.5 km away. Below is a large fountain. Everything is of huge proportions and hugely ornate. It is all very well maintained and set up for tourist income. There is no charge to enter the gardens but there is a charge to visit the palace. We choose a 1 hour guided tour for 16 euro each. Good value we believe. We see 40 rooms of the 1400 rooms. Mind you, most are not accessible to the public so the 40 is good value.
Like the Eggenberg Schloss, the palace is heated by ceramic stoves which are ornately decorated. The decoration is functional as it increases the radiating surface. However the stoves in the Schonbrunn Schloss are entirely operated from passages which are between all the rooms. This allowed the operations of the palace to be entirely hidden from the privileged occupants and guests. As we exit the tour, there are two passages renovated and occupied by dummies dressed as the servants would have been.

The rooms are similar to those seen at Eggenberg but on a far more grand scale. It is possible to overload on such opulence and I think by the end of the tour we were at that point. While one can muse as to whether or not monarchs should be exhaulted to the level they are or were, there would seem to be little doubt that their legacies in the form of such palaces are of immense value.

We leave Schonbrunn about 5 pm and walk to our van. It is wonderful to be able to make some tea or coffee and relax for a while before heading back to our camp. On the way, a fountain takes Ro’s fancy so we park and walk to it. There is also an interesting sculpture with a sound track. Behind is a monument which looks to be Russian. We decide to walk further and come upon a car park behind which is an impressive building. We ask some others who are walking there and they consult their map. It is the rear of one of the Belvedere Schloss buildings. The Belvedere Schloss was the winter residence of the Hapsburgs. We walk another kilometer to the front of the palace then inside the grounds to the rear of the main building. The grounds are less spectacular than those of the Schonbrunn but none the less spectacular. The scale and grandeour are incomprehensible.
We walk back to the lower end of the gardens and there is an exit close to the fountain we had originally stopped to view. We continue back to our van and return to the campsite.

We had hoped to go to a show of the Lippezaner stallions but learn that they are not particularly frequent and that the next show is Friday, almost a week away. Instead we decide to travel back toward Italy, stopping at Klagenfurt at the bottom of Austria for one night.

Sunday 18 September 2011: Vienna , Austria

We leave the campsite about 10.30am for Klagenfurt. As we want to take the long way, it will take us 6 hours to cover 300 km. Quite a lot of the trip retraces the roads we took to get from Graz to Vienna. However, before we get to Graz, we are taken on backroads and over a long steel mountainous road. We enjoy being out of Vienna’s traffic and back to little villages, forests and green fields. The trip over the mountain involves a long slow haul up one side in second gear, followed by a steep descent down the other side. As we descend, we can smell very hot disc pads and stay in second gear to keep the efficiency of the brakes up to a reasonable level. Failure of the brakes would be disastrous in the extreme.

As we near our camp site by a lake, we experience our first significant rain. After a long drive with the added stress of right hand driving, rain, and the usual narrow roads, it is with some relief that arrive at the camp about 7pm. Fortunately it is still open (some campsites close about now as summer has finished) and we can get someone to brave the wet to let us in.

We discover the reason for the mold we found on the mattress. The front window leaks a bit... quite a bit as it happens. I will need to correct that with some Sika. But tomorrow is supposed to be wet also so a bit of gaffer tape may be an interim fix.
Significant rain is a bit of an understatement. It will rain continually mostly for 36 hours….until we get well into Italy. But in the mean time, we are at a wonderful campsite next to a beautiful lake and it is raining heavily so we see basically nothing! So off to bed.

Monday 19 September 2011: Klagenfurt , Germany.

Still raining, although there were some pauses during the night. We had moved the mattress near the leak but it is still quite wet. The leak we have been mopping up with a towel. Fortunately with the gas tank now full and the heater working, we set up the mattress in front of the heater and create our own sauna in the van. As it is not hot outside, the heat is tolerable and we spend half an hour drying the mattress quite effectively. But as it is still raining, we keep the leak mopped up with the towel and the bedding away from the leak.

The forecast is for rain all day so we decide to travel to Venice and set off about 10.30 after our sauna.

We have seen a translation device at Hofer, an Aldi type store, for 20 euro and have decided that it would be a handy dictionary as it cross translates 12 languages. We call into one store but there is none left so we are directed to another store in Villach, which is on our travel path. Again we are not using motorways so we see the countryside. We find the store and buy the device, which it transpires is a phrase device rather than a dictionary. However we are sure that “I have haemeroids” and other such phrases will be extremely useful in 12 languages.

Eventually after another (less) mountainous climb, we reach a deserted boarder check and we cross into Italy. Within a short time we notice that the buildings and roads exhibit lower levels of maintenance. But the areas we travel through have soaring mountains either side and roads, bridges and freeways criss crossing frequently. Old bridges lye abandonded, as do numerous buildings and factories. There is an air of neglect. But there are also ancient buildings and ruins, which maybe the factories will be in years to come. The rain continues.

At one point we come to a blockage at an exit of the roundabout which we need to take, probably due to some incident on the road. We take another path that Tom Tom recommends but don’t feel it is the right direction. So back to the roundabout and out the other side. We follow instructions and meet another block which sends us back to the roundabout. We try TomTom’s orginial suggestion…. and after a big loop return to the roundabout. By now, our path looks like Jaques Tati’s Traffic. There are not a lot of vans like ours (thank heaven) so the guy manning the blockage must have been amused to see us visit the roundabout three or four times. We drive sufficiently far west for TomTom not to take us back to the roundabout and continue…. Fortunately not back to the roundabout.

The rain is lessening now, but it is getting on to 6 pm so we decide to stay at a closer camp. We enter one in Points of Interest and follow directions …. to where a camp isn’t. We ask directions and are told in excellent English that campers stay down by the beach. By the beach!! One disadvantage of GPSs is that, although they find places which would otherwise be impossiible to find, sometimes one can be in a place one does not realize. The sea was 100 metre away and we did not realize we were on the coast yet!

The rain has stopped but further over the sky is dark. So I look at the window and can see a hole which looks like the source of the leak. I climb up and put some Sikaflex, happy that the problem is solved. However we do not feel happy ‘wild camping’ so decide to continue to the campsite opposite Venice. This turns out to be a very good choice and we arrive one hour later at our camp site at Punta Sabbioni.

Wifi is available at 5 euro. For how much, I ask. A puzzled expression results. How long or how many gig, I ask. No, no! The 5 euro is as much as we need for as long as we are here. A good deal we think and a luxury as we have had limited access to date. The cost is 23 euro per night which is also quite good. Prices have ranged from 45 euro per night in Switzerland down to 16 euro per night in Slovenia. Most have been around 20 euro per night.

There is a couple of restaurants so we choose one. It is a casual place with friendly staff. I order lasagne and Ro orders calzone, which she has had previously at Echuca, a well known culinary hotshot in Victoria. The lasagne is not like that I am used to in Oz and the calzone is too salty but enormous in size. I am able to help in that department. We think it imprudent to suggest the chef undertake a culinary expedition to Echuca so instead consume a lot of water to offset the salt.

On returning to the van, I have a window blind to reinstall which I had removed to fix the leak. Unfortunately there is evidence that the leak has not disappeared so I use all purpose gaffer tape to temporarily solve the problem. We reassemble the bedding and get to bed after midnight.

Tuesday 20 September 2011: Punta Sabbioni (near Venice) , Italy.

We awake to find a clouded sky. But the forecast for Venice is dry so we decide to get the ferry to Venice. The only transport available in Venice is water based. All land transport is walking. The public transport system consists of gondolas, a romantic rather than practical means, water taxis and vaparettos, which are the equivalent of buses in a land bases city.

We decide to buy a 36 hour ticket for the ferries and vaparetti for 23 euro each. This gives us unlimited access to these boats which run regular services around Venice and the three main islands from the equivalent of bus stops which are floating shelters to which the boats tie for the 30 or 40 seconds the passengers take to embark and disembark.
Our campsite is across the bay from Venice and we take a 40 minute ferry ride. As we approach Venice, we understand the comments people make about the teaming crowds! People are thick on the promenades, the effect exacerbated by the fact that the frequent canals can only be crossed by bridges which funnel the hordes into tight masses.

The city consists of promenades with buildings either side and a canal down the middle, small alleyways between buildings with frequent courtyards and canals with buildings either side and no walkways. There are over 400 bridges which cross the canals.
To avoid the crowds, we start walking down the alleyways where others aren’t. They twist and turn, ending in dead ends at canals or bridges over canals. It is easy to avoid the crowds but between oases of empty alleys are alleys teaming with people, especially where shops abound. Shops are small rooms opening off alleys and usually crammed with wares and often room only for two or three people. Most shops include souvenirs particularly of Venecian origin. Most prominent among these are paper mache masks of various size and artistic merrit.

The promenades are generally crowded but once one leaves the main island for Murano, Burano or Torcello, there are promenades with much less crowding. The building facades are old, quaint and multicoloured.

We take the vaporetto to Murano, famous for glassware since the 13th century where we peruse the shops full of the remarkable glassware. The crowds are markedly less and prices, including food and drinks, are quite reasonable, contrary to the reports one hears. We had two cakes and two espressos for about 12 euro, probably less than one would pay in Melbourne. Presumably in the very popular tourist areas, prices are much higher.
We walk along prominades and down alleyways, soaking up the atmosphere. Having no cars or motorbikes or even pedal bikes is quite an unusual experience. Unfortunately the exhaust fumes are replaced by human exhaust of smoke which is ubiquitous.

It is starting to get dark by the time we board our ferry for home abd we arrive about 8.30pm. We have a 700 metre walk to the campsite and when we arrive we are ready for bed.

Wednesday 21st September 2011: Punta Sabbioni (near Venice) , Italy.

The morning dawns cloudless. It will be a wonderful day. We decide to cycle to the ferry and lock our bikes to a stand, hoping that all bits will be present on our return. The ferry to Venice is packed but there is another which stops at Burano, another island we had intended bisiting.

We board that boat and after a 30 minute trip disembark on the island. As Murino is famous for glass, Burano is famous for lace and its colourful houses. We read an item that said after walking Burano for 30 minutes you could not help but smile. We agree. The colours are pastel mauves, pinks, blues, oranges, yellows and greens. All mixed and with other offsetting highlight colours. The locals frequently have clothes which compliment the house colours. We loves our time on Burano, with a new delight around every corner.

By lunchtime we were ready for a sit down so took a vaporetto to Torcello, another major island whith only about 20 inhabitants and a seventh century cathedral. Unfortunately the boat ride was only 10 minutes so we did not recover much before more walking. The cathedral was built around 640 AD and updated in 1008 AD. The bell tower has scaffolding around it so the authorities must think it is time for a spruce up again. Probably not overindulgent. As we were getting tired, we did not to the 30 minute tour, instead putting it on out to do next time list.

We take a vaporetto back to Venice with the intention of cruising the Grand Canal. Unfortunately we are on the wrong side of Venice so we walk to the other side down alleyways and over canals. Also unfortunately the vaparetto is dreadfully crowded so we do not see much of the canal. But we are amazed by the amount of traffic on the canal. Between varoretti, water taxis, gondolas and commercial vessels, there are vessels going in every direction, but seemingly without incident.

It is 5 pm and we are footsore. As our 36 hour ticket expires at 11.22 pm we decide to go back to camp for a rest and dinner with the intention of getting the 8pm ferry back to Venice and returning on the 11pm ferry. That means we will board within our time but disembark a bit after 11.30. Hopefully the transit officers, of whom we have seen no sign, will be OK with that, but we intend to check just in case.

Our plan works well and by 8.35 we are back in Venice after a rest and dinner. The crowds have reduced considerably and Venice at night takes on an even more Phantom of the Opera like ambience. The lighting on the buildings is magical and many buildings have soft tri colour lighting of red white and green, the colours of Italy. It is interesting that the camera picks up the colours strikingly whereas our eyes only just perceive it.Coincidentally the boats with their markers are all the colours of Italy also.

We take a vaporetto up the Grand Canal, looking at tables by the waterside and into rooms with elegant chandeliers alight. People are a bit on display in apartments, but perhaps no more so than in any city.

As time is getting on, we disembark to get a vaporetto back to St Mark’s where we want to see the square by night. It is 10.35 when we get there and we have only 15 minutes before we need to walk back to the ferry. The lighting is again magical and there is a number of musical groups playing. The square is big enough and the volume set such that groups do not interfere. One is playing The Blue Danube Waltz and others are playing popular pieces in a classical style. It is time to go. But we will be back.

Venice is without doubt our most enjoyable city. From the water transport to the canals and alleyways to the islands of Murano and Burano, the whole place is like being transported to another place and time. We expected to hate the crowds and ripoff prices, the filth and the smell for which Venice is known. But all these can be avoided and everything else is wonderful. Yes, we will be back.

Thursday 22 September 2011: Punta Sabbioni (near Venice) , Italy.

The day is beautiful and we are off to Tuscany. We leave Punta Sabbioni by 10 30am following TomTom's instructions. The roads are generally uninspiring with the occasional back road which is narrow and somewhat more interesting. During our travelling, we think that if this is Italy, we can do without it. Hopefully this will prove to be a supremely uninformed comment.

We eventually arrive in Bologna which is close to our chosen camp. We have a bit of problem in negotiating Bologna. After a number of loop the loops, we end up on a motorway which costs us 50 euro cents to be taken 10 km away from where we want. It is no coincidednce that the term spaghetti junction has been coined. The intersections in Italy are more of a culinary feat than a civil one.

Finally, after an extra half an hour, and fighting of traffic and freeways we climb in first gear to the top of a mountain where our campsite is nestled. This is more like what we enjoy. No cars, plenty of trees and fresh air.

The main buildings are 18th century. A farm house and a three storey stable were refurbished in 1980. The farmhouse has small apartments to rent and the stable includes an eating area, an amenities room with library and computer and a mini market.

We choose to have dinner there with two other couples, one of whom is Italian with almost no English and a Dutch couple with reasonable English and a little Italian. The dinner conversation consisted of animated discussion in assorted languages with moments of revelation as we half guess what each other is meaning followed by silences as we try to determine what we have a hope of understanding in our next conversational snippet. For us Australians used to a mono language environment, this is a cultural awakening.

Friday 23 September 2011: Bologna , Italy.

We intend using our camp in Bologna as a base for exploring Tuscany so today is Florence.

As before we will not use motorways so our journey of 90 km will take us 2 hours.
We are on the road by 9.45, negotiating the now familiar narrow roads and guessed speed limits. We use TomTom a lot to tell us the current speed limit and also to warn of speed cameras, of which there are many. Although it is our intention to follow speed limits, the locals ignore them, as they do double lines, no parking signs, pedestrian crossings and practically anything else written up as a road rule.

Again we pass through small villages where one wonders how they sustain a living. There are road works a plenty and at one point we stop for 5 minutes while a load is lowered from a crane onto a semi trailer which is blocking a one lane road. In another village we come headlight to headlight with another vehicle and it is obvious that one will have to reverse. A few seconds of unspoken, unsigned negotiation goes on and the other smaller vehicle backs up. Unfortunately, I had mistakenly believed we could turn into a narrow laneway to obviate anyone having to reverse and on exiting heard a crunching as our plastic bumper fouled on something and bent beyond its elastic limit. Thank heavens.....I was running out of things to repair.

Eventually we arrive in Florance. If Rome is worse than Florence as is suggested, I don't want to drive in Rome! Bikes, cars, trucks and large numbers of scooters all vie for their bit of asphalt. Couple that with the spahggetti style of roads and a GPS which finds the system confusing and driving becomes rather more of an art than I am used to or comfortable with.

But our problems of driving are minor compared with our parking problems. Somehow the parking spaces available are always three lanes of traffic away. Three lanes of fast moving traffic away. And three illedfined lanes away. Finally we find parking spaces on our side. We park and inspect the signs. It seems that this is a 24 hour tow away zone. But there are painted parking places, most of which are occupied. Very confusing. So we move and are just about to cancel any sightseeing in Florance when a meter parking place is in fromt of us. We stop and scan the ticket machine for signs of what its function is. Providing tickets seems a little too obvious but eventually we decide that that is in fact what it is for. We feed it 4 euro, unload our bikes and set off, hoping the van will still be there on our return and that it will not have an infringement notice.

We ride along the river then use Garmin to show where the city centre is. Naturally Garmin cannot calculate how to get there but we use it to go in the general direction. But too general it seems as we see nothing of interest. It is hot and cycling is not pleasant for Ro. She suggests we ride to a tourist information office and we use TomTom to do that.

The tourist office gives us a couple of maps and we head off toward the old sector. After a short ride we are in Piazza del Grano. We know this is the place to be because of the crowds. Like those in Venice. Again by moving away from the tourist traps, we can get a feel for the city. But avoiding the tourists is not possible at the Uffizi Gallery where there is a wait of 60 to 90 minutes to get in. We pass. Instead we walk around the square marvelling at the statues, including a replica of David, the buildings and the frescos. We walk over the Ponte Vecchio which is an ancient bridge with rows of shops either side, all selling jewellery!

Time is running out on the meter and our feet. We ride back to the van and are happy to have a cool drink, and Ro a cold shower, as peak hour passes by. Where else can you have a shower in the middle of dense traffic but in a motor home? Another one of the many benefits.

When we leave, fortunately we are travelling against the outflow so it is not too bad. We retrace our path back to Bolognia, arriving back about 8.30 pm. The return journey is fine until it gets dark when the low cutoff european headlights conspire with the narrow roads and zero street lighting to make our arrival at the camp an absolute pleasure and ensure a deep overnight sleep.

Saturday 24 September 2011: Bologna , Italy.

Any time we have had a day off sightseeing, we have appreciated the rest. Today was to be such a day. Also, it gives some time to fix some more things on the van. Including the now broken bumper! Included in the 'to be done' list is a cut and polish where I can reach which includes the roof, accessible via the roof rack and ladder. This improves the external look quite a lot. A rattley exhaust, a non functional clearance lamp and an improved bike seat complete my day of rest.

Meanwhile Ro investigates a 2004 Lonley Planet book which makes her realize all we have missed. However this trip is intended as a fact finding mission to determine what we want to do in future trips so all is not lost.

Sunday 25 September 2011: Bologna , Italy.

We have a long trip today. Our camp at Torino is 7 hours away so we leave relatively early for us and are on the road about 9am. Using non motorway roads is not much more pleasant than using motorways in Italy. Most of the trip is semi urban and the stress of trying to guess speed limits takes its toll. Speed limits are inconsistent in the extreme and largely ignored by the locals so one cannot follow a local and hope not to get pinged by a speed camera. Occasionally we pass through interesting villages but not frequently enough to make the journey memorable.

After a largely uninteresting and fortunatley an uneventful day we arrive at our camp about 7 pm. Our supplies are running very low and it is Sunday in Italy where shops are not open. There Are some eating places open but they are back in the village and we don't care to drive back or walk or cycle. So we make do with a light dinner.

Monday 26 September 2011: Torino , Italy.

Today we intend travelling to Stresa, about a 4 1/2 hour trip. This allows enough time for us to visit a local castle, Castella de la Mandria. We have been advised it is like Versaille so we go looking for it. We find a park and decide to ride our bikes to explore.

There is a wall which we discover extends kilometres. We follow it for perhaps 2 km until we find a large gate where to our left, in the distance is a large building. We ride toward it and find a castle of huge proportions but in poor repair. It appears that it has started to be developed as a tourist attraction but must have run out of money so is not now open, although we can ride around the buildings. In its time, probably the early 1800s, it would have been a complete city. But overall, it was not very memorable.

By lunchtime, we have returned to the van, loaded the bikes and started toward Stresa. The trip is one again not very attractive. One memorable sight is a huge pair of concrete chimneys which loom on the horizon. They are nuclear power stations. We have not seen such sights before and they are somewhat foreboding.

However following the power stations, the countryside becomes a bit more attractive, including many rice fields and villages with narrow roads. These are attractive but somewhat stressful when large vehicles approach from the opposite direction and cars are parked on our side!

By 6 pm we are close to Stresa where we have not as yet chosen a camp site. We check TomTom and choose a place close to Stresa. But when TomTom declares 'You have reached your destination' there is no camp site in sight. We choose another in tghe next town, Beveno. This time there is a sign which leads us down a very narrow road to a gate which enters the camp site. No wonder we could not find the first one! We prepare the van for the night and go exploring.

A walk along a footpath between buildings leads to a jetty where a boat leaves for two islands in the lake on which Beveno is located. There is also a restaurant with tables on a patio overlooking the lake. We decide this is where we will eat a little later.
Later we ride our bikes to the restaurant and have an inexpensive meal with a priceless view. After dinner we ride a little furthedr on our bikes but mindful of the fact we have no lights and it is quite dark. We return for showers and bed.

Tuesday 27 September 2011 : Beveno , Italy.

The islands we want to visit are serviced by a boat which leaves the jetty , where we had dinner last night, at 8 am. Our plan is to awake early to get the earliest boat, look at the islands then return by 12 or 1 to drive to our next camp site on our way to Fussen, the start of the Romantic Road down the Rhine in Germany.

Plans wall apart when we wake at 7.20 am. But we get the plan back on course by rushing breakfast and me riding ahead to purchase our 10 euro per person all day tickets. We actually have 5 minutes to spare. Our first island is Isola Superiore where we disembark after a 5 minute ride only to find the next boat leaves at 10. There is not enough to occupy us for 2 hours, but we walk round the island several times down small alleyways and up and down stairs. Similar to Venice except for the significant undulations. We get the 10 am boat to Isola Bella which is the island we really want to see because of the palace and gardens which are renouned. It is only 5 minutes also, almost swimming distance, so we have about 1 1/2 hours before getting a boat back.

We purchase two tickets for 12.50 euro each and enter the palace. It takes up 90% of the island and was built in the 1700s. As with all the palaces visited, it is immense, but not as big as the others we have seen. But it makes up in splendour for anything it lacks in size. The most splendid room is a circular chamber with soaring ceilings and internal balconies. It is an architectural delight. Other rooms are impressive and ornate but not so over-the-top as in some other palaces. There are some rooms which were favourites in summer as they were cool and are covered in small round stones in various patterns.

But the most facsinating part are the gardens. These are on multiple levels with a huge range of species of plants and hundreds of statues. They cover 60% of the island and stairs and fearures abound. Two circular towers house a bookshop and a cafe. We have coffee and cake at the cafe and encounter a friendly waiter. On mentioning to him that he is more friendly than his fellow countrymen, we discover he is Peruvian and doesn't find the Italians friendly either. We spend two hours enjoying the gardens before boarding the boat for our 10 minute trip to Stresa.

We do not find much to do in Stresa so board the next boat to Braveno, which travels via the two islands we have visited. Arriving back at Baveno we cycle back to the camp and have a quick dip in the lake. Quick because it is quite cold. Then back to our van for dinner. After dinner we ride back into Baveno then walk up to a church before returning for the night.

Wednesday 28 September 2011: Beveno , Italy.

Today we have a long drive to the start of the Romantic Road in Germany, near Fussen. We get on the road by 9 am. The drive is as interesting as the Italian drive was dull. However the lovely scenery which starts with a winding road around the lake is not shared by me, the driver, as the roads are as narrow as any I have encountered so far and require a lot of concentration. At one point, a truck approaching us stops as we inch the van past. But it seems this is normal for these parts. Eventually I will become used to these manoeuvers but wider roads are always far easier on the nerves.

We start climbing into the Swiss alps, first gear for a lot of the climb. But the views are rewarding 100 fold. We climb through quaint Swiss villages, the difference between the casual Italian culture and the regimented Swiss culture becoming more evident as we move further into Switzerland. As we descent the mountains, we are rewarded with panoramic views over seemingly mown pastures with no fenced boundaries, with cows complete with tinkling cow bells and with Swiss villages clinging to the steep slopes. We stop for morning tea and look down on a villages in miniature. It is only when a car drives next to the buildings that we realise they are big buildings far below us. A Swiss train runs quietly along rails below us like a giant model train set framed against towering mountains. Church bells interspersed with cow bells aurally complete the picture.

We travel on through the day, back in to Austria and eventually into Germany.
Our camp is near Kempten in the south of Germany. By the time we are getting close, it is getting dark.When TomTom tells us we have reached our destination, we have travelled through tiny German towns, down narrow roads, across lush fields and now it is dark. But our destination is not where we had hoped it would be. We drive down a narrow track. Not that one. We try another fork. That is better; we are at our camp site.

The people are welcoming and we can get a dinner of wiener schnitzel, which is delicious.
Then off to bed, albeit a bit more warmly dressed as the temperature is a few degrees overnight. In the morning, we even choose to light the heater for a while.

Thursday 29 September 2011: Kempten , Germany.

Today we explore the Romantischen Strasse. But first we want to visit Neuswanstein Schloss, Mad King Ludwid's fairytale castle. Started in mid 1800s, the castle was inclompete at the king's death in 1869. The Royal Chambers were complete and he spent 170 days there before his death. Seven weeks later the castle was opened to the public and has been a drawcard ever since with 6000 visitors per day. The king was not mad, just a bit before his time. The view is said to be the best in Europe and having seen it, I would not dispute the claim.

Having seen the number of vehicles and people in Hohenswangau, the town to which the castle is attached, we decide to park outside the town and cycle in. We first view it through heavy mist which makes it magically appear and disappear in slow waves. Five minutes later we are back at the base of the mountain on which the castle is built. The castle was used as inspiration for the castle in Sleeping Beauty and is used in the Disney logo.

Due to the large numbers of visitors, tickets to view the inside are sold some way from the castle and are time stamped. Because of a shortage of time, we do not buy tickets but instead walk the 2 or 3 km up a steep road to view thw outside and inner courtyard for which tickets are not required. As we have become used to, the proportions are immense. The stonework is in excellent condition due to its relatively recent construction but also because the construction has continued since the king's demise and is still continuing with 30 metre high scaffolding over a significant part of the outside wall.
We walk further to a bridge called Mary's Bridge built in iron in mid 1800s which spams a chasm 100 or 200 metres above a waterfall. The views of the castle and surrounding towering rocky mountains are spectacular. We walk down another steep path and set of stairs to the bottom of the waterfall and marvel at the beauty.

But we still have a way to travel in order to reach Bonn by Friday so we continue our journey to Kissing near Augsberg where we will spend the night.

The Romantic Road seems to be illusive. We catch glimpses of tantalising signs telling us we are on the road. However motorways with cars whistling by at 180 kph seems less than romantic. The most romantic parts are when TomTom directs us through narrow roads in verdant pastures and through tiny lanes through villages. Maybe the signs have been misplaced or maybe the road is protected from tourists. Anyway we are romanced by the environment.

We continue on to Kissing, being careful to arrive before night falls....fortunately. Because, surprise, surprise, we can't find it. We enter the street name but because there is no number we enter 'Anywhere' for the crossing point. Nothing there. So we enter some lat/long cordinates which are a bit questionable because there are too few decimal points. 6 km later, nothing. But there is a farmer on a little tractor who does not speak a word of English. But with my few words and a lot of enthusiasm on his part we exchange ideas for a while before he indicates to follow him. A four km trip along a tractor path, with stops by our farmer to ask others encountered on the track and shaking of heads does not inspire us to believe we won't be retracing our tracks soon. But our farmer comes through and we are directed on a bitumen road to where the camp should be. A hand shake and hearty thanks and our tractor based hero drives off into the sunset.

We are not quite where we need to be but an enquiry at a restautant directs us to the gate of the camp. The camp is nearly empty but the people who receive us are friendly and speak a moderate amount of English. Unfortunately we are only there a few hours but we would like to return some time.

We settle in for what turns out to be a very cold night. Next day we have a long journey to Bonn.

Friday 30 September 2011: Kissing , Germany.

We start early on our trip to. It has been suggested that our quickest route is to Wurzberg via the Roma ntic Road then to Bonn on motorways. Our implementation of the suggestion leaves a little to be desired. The Romantic Road continues to be elusive but European traffic jams are not so elusive. When we get onto the motorway, there are significant (and I mean significant) roadworks which redice three lanes to two and result in kilometer long jams. At least we are travelling in the right direction as the opposite side has a 10 or 20 km long bumper to bumper jam. Still moving, but at walking pace. Later we are advised that Friday from 3pm to 8 pm is not the time to travel.

Our traffic jam clears and we are again competing with trucks, cars and low flying missiles on Germany's famous open speed limit motorways. At times we are blessed with a 120 or 130 speed limit but when these end, it is open slather for every boy races and passing involves guessing the approach speed of the pin point headlights half a kilometer behind. At times we are rocked by the bow wave of a a vehicle passing us with a speed differentisl of 80 or 90 kph when we are travelling at 110kph.Couple this with narrowed laneways in the roadwork section where we pass with what seems inches to spare (albeit at the reduced limit of only 100 kph) and the drive becomes quite tiring.

But eventually, after another 30 minute jam, we arrive at our Bonn destination about 6.30pm and find Felix waiting for us on the street. Hopefully he has not been there since 3 pm, our expected arrival time.

Felix was an exchange student from Germany who stayed with us 15 years ago. We also met Mechthild and Ulrich, Felix's parents, in Australia at that time. They have very kindly invited us to stay with them in Bonn for a few days so we can see the sights. It is wonderful to have an enlarged living area again having after living in our cramped van for the last four weeks.

We have a delightful meal and quickly renew our friendship. Felix has planned a weekend of sightseeing around Bonn and Cologn. Bonn will swell to well over twice its normal population this weekend as there is a festival which is held in different parts of Germany each year and is in Bonn this year.

Saturday 1 October 2011: Bonn , Germany.

Today we walk through Oberkasssel where we are staying which has houses dating back to the 17th century and over to the Rhine for our first view of the famous river. Long river boats and coal barges push their way up the rapid flowing river. The high flow rate make the river unsafe for swimming, although the pollution which was the major problem has been reduced to the point that salmon now inhabit the waters.

Toward lunch time we drive up to the former Bonn dignatory guest house, Petersberg, now a hotel then on to Lowenburg the ruins of a medieval fort originally built in the 13th century. The walk through woods is delightful and the view from the top, across to Bonn completes the pleasurable experience. We return late in the afternoon.

We spend another enjoyable evening before a restful night's sleep in our spacious surroundings.

Sunday 2 October 2011:Cologn , Germany.

One of the must see sights on our list is Cologne Cathedral. Kathrin, Felix's partner has joined us so after breakfast we walk to the train station for a 30 minute trip to Cologne

To our surprise, the cathedral unfolds before us as soon as we leave the station. And what an imposing structure it is. Its twin spires rise 160 metre from ground level, the foundations extending another few storeys into the ground. It was started in the 13th century and not completed until the 19th century. I marvel that the technology existed to understand the requirements for foundations for such a massive building. We decide to climb the more than 500 steps to the observation platform at 97 metres. The spires are still 60 metres above us.

The climb is via a stuffy 2 metre diameter spiral stone staircase where two way traffic means that we climb close to the centre column up steps only 100 mm wide while others pass on the outside where the steps are wider. At times, one has to twist ones body against the central column as others squeeze past. Each rotation of the spiral is about 3.5 metres below its equivalent point above or below so we rotate twenty or more times to reach the top. The steps are well worn by previous climbers over the centuries. There are no stopping points so it is a steady 10 minute climb. By the top, our muscles are announcing their dissatisfaction with the demands. Needless to say, the view is spectacular. Although the rooves immediately below are not very attractive.

The observation platform is a timber walkway between external minor spires and the large central spire. A secure metal cage prevents people leaning out over the edge but there are some coins sitting at the edge of the stonework. Those which go over the edge must be dangerous missiles once they reach the ground. Some people do not think through their actions. We climb down the same spiral staircase, somewhat dizzy by the time we reach the ground.

Next we venture down ito catecombs below the cathedral to view treasures associated with the cathedral. Challices, gold ornaments and robes of exquisite beauty are on display. The wealth of these items is indefinable in historic terms and they show incredible craftsmanship, the like of which will probably never be repeated.

We spend the morning looking at the cathedral then have lunch at a small street side cafe. After lunch we have the choice of going to the chocolate museum or the perfume museum. Chocolate wins.

The chocolate museum is on a small island on the banks of the Rhine. It is very interesting...... and there is the odd sample, a secondary consideration in our decision, of course.

By 5pm we are ready to return and after our return train journey are pleased to accept Ulrich's offer to pick us up from the station.

Monday 3 October 2011: Bonn , Germany.

The weather has been unseasonably warm following unseasonably cold and wet weather the last few months prior to our arrival. Today dawns misty and cool but promises to become another sunny and warm day. Our plan is to visit Bonn during the festivities so we take the local train to the city centre. A ten minute trip, we cross the Rhine and we are in the city. First we see off Kathrin who is returning to Osnabrueck then we walk into the central area of Bonn.

There are people everywhere and a significant police presence. There are some dignitories in town and there are demonstrations anticipated. The police have good communications and look quite menacing. But I don't think they expect us to demonstrate and that must be so as they pay us no attention. The infrastructure is quite complex. The two or three sound stages we see are large and well made. Another area ,which Felix says is normally grass, has aluminium flooring and pavillions which look like permanent fixtures.

We walk around listening to a brass band at one sound stage and an english group at another sound stage. Then we come across the Bonn Cathedral which, although not the size and grandeur of Cologne is nonetheless very impressive with a magnificent pipe organ which unfortunately is not being played. Even if it were being played, the SILENCE notice in 4 languages is ignored by the rock band belting out Queen on a sound stage just outside the door. We walk out to a grassed courtyard which would have been a sanctuary but for the band whose music is all pervasive.

Part of the festival includes foods from 16 regions. We start with a sausage (what else) in a roll and a glass of beer. This is from the Barvarian pavillion, which as well as the food, includes about 20 people of varying ages wearing green Barvarian costumes, complete with shorts and braces (not leather), hats with feathers and antique rifles. Some also have instruments which they soon start playing. One even plays a glockenspiel which he carries.

Only 14 food types left to go as we skipped number 1. We actually skip 13 of the 14 remaining but keep walking through the stalls.

At one point we come across a number of Segues which are the two wheel devices on which one stands, steering with a handle on a post in front of the rider. After signing an indemnity waiver, we stood in a queue for a ride. After waiting probably 15 minutes and donnong a bike helmet, Felix, Ro and I were next. We in turn stood up on the devices and within a minute were each manouevering the devices around the set course. We each do the course twice all aquitting ourselves quite well. They are surprisingly easy to operate and I think within half an hour we would all be thoroughily proficient. They can travel up to 20 kph and are operated by leaning the post forward or backward to accelerate, stop or go backward. A sideways movement causes the device to rotate on its vertical axis. We all want one! However the sensation after dismounting is interesting. For about 5 minutes it is like walking on land after a rough time in a small boat. Only worse.

Next is a display of nano technology which is in a semi trailer which extends upward to become two storey. Very interesting, but all the information is in German so we exit. Us because we can't read it and Felix because he is sick of translating for us. In the interests of accuracy, and so the participants will recognise the events, I should mention that Felix in fact did not actually go in and Rosemary exited immediately she discovered it had no airconditioning, nano or otherwise. I stayed all of 8 seconds. With the german propensity for long scientific words, I knew I was beaten when a term was hyphenated at the end of a 40 foot trailer and continued on the next line. But why let facts get in the way of a good yarn?

We are ready to go home with the idea of returning later for evening festivities if we feel so inclined. It turns out that we don't, instead opting for a pleasant evening at home with a very enjoyable barbeque.

Tuesday 4 October 2011: Bonn , Germany.

We have enjoyed our stay and renewing our friendship. In particular, it has been refreshing not being responsible for knowing where we are all the time and not having the concentration of driving in a foreign environment, which over time becomes tiring.

Time to hit the road. We farewell Felix who is returning to Osnabrueck by train and spend the morning loading our things back into the van. Mechthilde has gone to work early so we decide to leave after her return in the early afternoon. Ulrich makes a scrumptious lunch which we have with them both before departing. All the males in that family are very competent chefs and it will take some time for Ro to stop reminding me of my poor culinary skills. Domestic deafness has its uses.

We decide a short trip on a south along the Rhine would be a good starting point with the idea of leaving early next morning for a day of solid sight seeing. Enough of this rexlaxing in domestic comfort. We came here to do a job.

Although we don't see much of the Rhine our short trip on the motorway allows us to arrive early at a fairly large campsite about 60 km south of Oberkassel. By 5 pm we are settled, an unusual treat, so we can go for a walk before dinner and one after across a footbridge spanning the adjacent river.

Wednesday 5 October 2011: Koblenz ,Germany.

Early leaving seems to be a difficult concept for us. 10 am is not really early but it is the time we get going, at least partially because I want to check the charging of the house battery as the igniter on the fridge is still giving some problems.

Tomasina, as we have now named TomTom due to the female voice, is directing us to Baden-Baden. However, as with the Romantic Road, the trip which was supposed to follow the Rhine is nowhere near the Rhine. We decide to take matters into our own hands. Among cries of "Turn left, Turn right, do a U turn and go one more kilometer in this direction and I won't speak to you for 3 hours" we turn left toward the Rhine at our first opportunity.

The road we choose, as is usual with our unplanned deviations, is delightful. We had climed up a long steep hill so are well above the Rhine. Because of that, the narrow, deserted road winds downward in a serpentine path through beautiful forest, leaves just starting to turn before falling off their deciduous hosts. We meet one or two cars, but the technique of moving over and, if necessary, stopping is nearly second nature so there are no moments of concern regarding mirrors, tyres and other assorted extremities.

We arrive at a town which is right on the Rhine and, after getting stuck behind a rubbish truck find a spot by the river for morning tea. It is just near a floating jetty to which is tied a long river boat. As we have morning tea, passengers gradually return to the boat. As they don't have luggage, we assume this was a port of call along their trip.
The good news is that we have a road which follows the Rhine to Bingen after which it has been suggested to us it becomes less interesting.

We travel through villages and see similar ones on the far bank half a kilometer away. Castles and forts cling to the steep rocky shores and dozens of boats ply their various trades on the rapid waters. River islands, some with buildings on them and rocky outcrops provide obstacles for shipping.

By Bingen, we feel we have finally seen the mighty Rhine and are happy to follow a more expeditious path to Baden-Baden, our destination for this evening.

At about 3 pm we decide we would like a pub lunch, or the German equivalent. We see a sign to Worms, a town on the route to B-B. We exit and spend the next ten minutes doing pas de deux on the cloverleaf entrances and exits to the motorways. Eventually we settle for Sud Worms but can find neither a place to eat nor any prospect of parking. We abandon Sud Worms and proceed to Zentral Worms. By now we are getting hungry but it seems those worms are the only ones we are destined to find.

After talking a parking inspector our of giving us a ticket then going round in circles and seeing nowhere we can leave the van, we abandon any hope of a good German lunch and instead settle for an apple and some pretzels in the van, while keeping a close eye out for parking inspectors.

We continue on to, coincidentally, Wurmberg where we will stay the night. Again we are early so have time to settle in and go for a walk. But before settling in, we return to the village to a shop we have seen which is similar to a bakery in Australia where we purchase some quiche which unfortunately turns out to be loaded with onion, of which we are not fond. Despite the young shopkeeper having as little English as I have German, we manage to communicate quite well the only minor problem being that we bought 4 breadrolls instead of two. It could have been worse. I might have accidentally included hundred in the quantity description.

Thursday 6 October 2011: Wurmberg , Germany.

It is our 35th anniversary today. Hope it is memorable. Now those astute readers may know that, although I am writing this in present tense, events have actually occured, so I will let you in to a little secret. It is going to be memorable. And so is the next day which at this point we have not experienced. Anyway, more about the tow truck later.

After a bit of netting, we leave our camp for Baden Baden, about 60 km away. We have entered the fastest way so we expect all motorways. However, just as we thought Thomasina had not a romantic chip in her processor, she takes us on the most romantic little road without us even having to make a wrong turn. It is the most beautiful road we could imagine, through green forests just starting to turn. We pass a horse stud with quaint buildings and dozens of healthy looking horses. With only 5 km to our destination in Baden Baden, the Faberge Museum, we are still passing through fields and villages. This is our kind of city. As usual, parking is a problem but we eventually park about 1.5 km from the city centre.

Baden Baden is beautiful and classy. There are pedestrian only precincts which are in some ways reminiscent of Ljubljana. There is a Casino which now is used for music events and many quality shops tastfully displayed, including an Art Deco shop, the contents of which we are very impressed by. We have quite a long discussion with the shop attendant who is outgoing, friendly and knowledgable.

We have decided to eat a lunch of specialty dishes of the area and find a quaint little bistro with tables outside and small tables, chairs and upholstered benches inside. As it is getting cooler now in Germany we choose to eat inside. A beautiful pumpkin soup is followed by wiena schnitzel and vegitables for me and a turkey salad for Ro.

After lunch we walk to the Faberge Museum where 700 items are displayed from the craftsmen employed by Karl Faberge. He employed up to 500 artisans in the 1800s and early 1900s and the company provided fabulous art works to the Czars of Russia and other Royal families. The company closed soon after the revolution in Russia.

We walk further around Baden Baden, enjoying the beauty of this city. Ro finds some shops to peruse while I listen to a pair of guitar playing buskers who are very good.
At 5 pm we walk back to our van which has not been booked, wheel clamped or towed away. It must be our lucky day, we mistakenly muse. But there is always a cost in not being wheel clamped.

We decide after a cup of coffee to head toward Freiburg, an hour away, for the night. Thomasina leads us a merry chase through Baden Baden because of some closed roads. If she had her way, we would circle Baden Baden forever due to the combination of closures. Finally we escape and head toward the motorway.

With 45 minutes to our camp, it is getting dark and starting to rain. As we trundle along at 100 kph in the slow lane, there is a twang which causes us to ask simultaneously "What was that?". Then the motor dies. You guessed it! This is the memorable event. We roll to a stop by the side of the motorway. Cranking the engine does nothing. A little later I remove a feed pipe from an injector. No fuel. I decide the most likely cause is a broken belt to the injector pump. Where is an airport check in guy when you need him to discuss such things?

Well this can't be fixed by the side of a freeway so we call the emergency number which Thomasina provides on Ro's mobile. Fortunately emergency numbers can be called even if there s no connection with a service provider, so after a discussion in broken Gerlish (or Engman) we are informed that a tow truck will be sent within 40 minutes.

The tow truck arrives and our van's front wheels are lifted off the road. We sit in the van as it is towed to a small town where we have our first wild camping experience in the yard of a tow operator. Not the location we would have chosen under other circumstances.
As we settle in for a different experience, I peruse the repair manual which had been provided with the van. I had thought replacement of the drive belt would probably be easy and hopefully inexpensive ( although I don't like to think about the tow costs). However the manual points out that the timing belt also operates the camshaft. Failure can and frequently does cause bent valve stems. Oops. We will find out tomorrow.

Friday 7 October 2011: Offenburg , Germany.

Happy birthday to you; Happy Birthday to you etc etc. Unusual birthday for Ro. We are in an industrial park with trucks and cars and industrial buildings surrounding us. At 8 am the towies arrive and it is decided we should be towed to a local repairer. We settle the towie bill of 160 euro. Could have been worse. We may be able to claim that back on insurance as breakdown towing is covered.

At the repairer we meet Adalbert or Addie who will look at the damage. When an overhead camshaft stops, the open valves cause damage to valves and pistons. Fortunately the motor in our van does not have an overhead camshaft but has pushrods which operate rocker arms and the pushrods bend instead. If there is no other damage, the repair bill should be under 700 euros. We hope.

Bent pushrods turns out to be the case with the only other obvious damage a broken rocker. Unfortunately, as it is Friday, we are here for the weekend with a repaired vehicle on Monday hopefully. However Addie has a vehicle he has offered to loan us so we hope to visit Strassbourg in France only 30 km away to the west on Saturday and the Black Forest, 30 km in the oposite direction on Sunday.

We have morning tea in a bakery in Offenburg which is where we have ended up then go walking. After walking back to the repairer, about 1 km from the town, we have lunch of fish with Addie at a local restaurant which was inexpensive and a bit like a company cafeteria. We met his brother and niece there, a common occurence for them and one of the advantages of living in a township of 60,000 people.

We have found the German people to be extremely helpful. As an example, today we asked directions to a post office at a bakery. The attendants did not know, but a young customer overhearing us offered to help. As he was not from Offenburg, he asked another local then accompanied us to the shop which sold stamps then to the post box (which are few and far between in Germany) before bidding us farewell. Others have been equally helpful. I have heard complaints that German people get involved in others affairs where they should not. However the other side of the coin is that they help where they have no requirement to. Life is always a series of positives and negatives. From my point of view, I like the result.

On our trip back before lunch, we had called in to a bike shop to look for a more comfortable seat for Ro. The people there were, as usual, helpful and informative. It was suggested we should return with the bikes to try the seat we thought was most appropriate.

After lunch we removed the bikes from the van, now sitting over a mechanic's pit. We ride to the bike shop and select the saddle we think would be best. However, despite having brought the old seat and mounting tube into the shop, the attendant asks us if we have the bike and fits the saddle and observes Ro test riding it. But, more than that, he suggests she try it for an hour or two and bring it back if it is not perfect. This is how we find Germany in all matters and it is refreshing.

After the bike shop visit, we ride into the centre and look at a church and a few other sights then back to Addie. It is now 5.30 pm and after a cup of coffee with him, we move the van out of the workshop and into the yard where we will sleep for the next three nights. Not a great improvement on last night's venue but we do have power and a vehicle to use.

Our evening meal is in the van and consists of a lovely mix of vegetables. It is not to Ro's personal advantage to make such nice meals as it gives us a reason to not go out.
After dinner we decide to visit the Big Smoke to see the night life. We do and there isn't. But Ro gets a chance to try her left hand driving skills. As in Graz, I am the Curb Alert alarm and I am kept busy. Why the geometry of the car should be different with left hand or right hand driving is a mystery, but both of us have fallen prey to the syndrome. Ro decides she is happy to let me keep driving as I am now a fully fledged lefty. Mind you, for me to be a lefty, I need to move right from my ideology. Perhaps this is not the vehicle for further philosophical discussion along those lines.

Tonight will be rather cold as there is snow predicted above 1000 metres. We will need to rug up. And not even a guard dog to snuggle up to.

Saturday 8 October 2011: Strasbourg , France.

The night is cold. However we have preveiously purchased a second doona and the cold is not a problem. Next morning, though, the heater is appropriate. When I fixed it some weeks ago it was very hot and I thought we are never likely to use it. But I don't like things not working which are supposed to work, no matter how useless. I now understand that the heater working is not useless.

We get ready and hop into our little VW Golf. I have not driven it before and enjoy the zippiness and small size. No more squeezing between parked cars and oncoming traffic.
We were surprised to learn Strasbourg is only 30 km away and it is in France. I had always felt superior knowing it was in Austria rather than Germany as most people thought.....so I thought. But is is in France, just over the Rhine, the border between Germany and France. A sobering lesson (says he sagely or stupidly, depending on your viewpoint).

We arrive in Strasbourg and look for a car park. In the process we do battle with guessing what is a one way street and if it is, which way. To add to our confusion, there was a pedestrian and bicycle precinct, which had cars parked against no-parking-tow-away signs. I would like to think that I am not easily confused, but this set of circumstances I found a little challanging. However pedestrians seem not to be bothered by the close proximity of cars to their rear ends so we follow another car past the left turn only sign in the pedestrian only precinct avoiding the cars next to the no parking signs until we come to what appears to be a vehicular road and continue on our merry way. The car we we follow disappears who knows where. Maybe it is our guiding angel.

After a bit more negotiation of the streets, we find a place which allows parking with the purchase of a ticket. I am familiar with mechanical meters with a slot for a coin and which goes wrrrrrr when you insert the coin, showing you the time you may park. This meter is not one of those. The clue should be the solar cells on top, but I ignore them and head straight for the credit card slot. We had checked that the card was loaded the night before so I confidently feed it in, hoping that it will not clear the card and offer me one year's parking. But it is a French speaking meter so it just writes on its display 'non, non, non. c' est impossible!' and spits my card back with an audible contemptuous sigh. I try again, hoping to appease it with coins but it refuses those too. Eventually I feed the coins in before selecting any time on the meter and it indexes the time it will allow me to leave my car there before calling the gendarmes. Speaking rudely to a parking meter is futile, and possibly borderline insanity, so I accept the token it proffers, put it on the car dash and leave.

We are looking for la Petite France which is the old section of Strasbourg. Fortuitously it is where we have been doing battle with the street signs and we find it within 300 metres over a bridge either end of which are ancient square towers. We walk between 16th century buildings with delightful facades in varying states of repair. Strasbourg has a canal system with a series of locks which allow canal boats to navigate the rapids which result from the rapid drop of the river.

There is a delightful patisserie/cafe which appeals to us where we have lunch before walking through the Strasbourg Cathedral which is Strasbourg's answer to Notre Dame. It is huge with an impressive interior with towering vaulted ceilings and the obligatory massive pipe organ. In addition, the cathedral has an interesting mechanism which we assume calculates celestial positions of stars.

It is raining and we are feeling a little touristed out so we decide to drive back. On the way we encounter a european traffic jam and spend half an hour in a queue of cars waiting to pass a collection of police vehicles, the reason for their presence not being clear.
After a bit of housekeeping which includes emptying the toilet and waste water, we decide against going out for dinner and instead have a meal in the warmth and now familiar surroundings of our camper, still parked in the yard of the repairer. No more visual bombardment from new sights for today.

Later, as rain falls outside, we decide some clothes washing would be in order.We can use the bathroom as a drying room by turning on the heater and closing all ducts except the bathroom. During the drying process, I need to use the toilet at the same time Ro needs to adjust the drying clothes. Privacy is not a big ticket item in our camper. Furthermore, the camper is boiling hot but the clothes are still wet. Still we cope. Coping skills are useful in cramped living space.

Sunday 9 October 2011:Offenburg , Germany.

Sunday morning is cold but mostly clear. We light our heater and get the van cosy as we have breakfast.

Despite being bitten by the abroadband cost, we are seduced by its presence in the absence of any other internet connection and log on to view any emails. Emails are our security blanket as they connect us with home. We keep a close eye on bytes sent and received and don't spend too much time logged on.

Addie has suggested some towns we should visit in the Schwarzwald (BlackForest) area so we head off for the first, Durbach. It is only 10 minutes away but is reached by a narrow road which winds through wooded countryside. The village itself is lovely with now familiar cottages from the 17th century and later.

In my experience, there is nothing which compares in Australia with the villages in Europe. Although Australian country towns date back to horse and buggy times, European villages date back hundreds of years earlier. The building proximity and layout influences the relationship between the inhabitants. It occurs to me, admittedly as an outsider, that the automobile which had so much negative influence on interaction between neighbours in Australia, could not have had the same influence in Europe due to the lack of space between buildings. Certainly, the drivers appear to be more patient than in Australia since there is a lot of consideration needed just to avoid collisions between approaching vehicles.

Next stop is Oberkirch and we start a long picturesque climb into the Schwarzwald. But as we go, we see a sign to Schloss Staufenberg which was also recommended to us. We drive up a narrow road for 1.5 km hoping no other car will approach, but thankful that if they do, we have a small car not a motorhome. As it happens, on the descent later we meet a bus which seems to cause no concern to the bus and not to us either as an upward bound motorist had warned of its approach allowing us to seek shelter.

Although pretty minor on the scale of those we have seen so far, the schloss looks interesting. When the sun is out, the temperature is lovely but when clouds oclude the sun, the chill in the air is apparent so we dress warmly.

The schloss is a winery today and the surrounding hills are planted with hectares of vines in neat rows, in a patchwork of ditterent directions. The view from the peak where the schloss is built is panoramic and allows us to see the cathedral in Strazbourg which we visited yesterday.

We continue on to Oberkirch, where we get out and walk.As the sun is shining at present we have coffee and apfel strudel at a small cafe sitting at tables on the street side. The road, despite being small, is the main thououghfare and cars cruise by constantly.

After coffee, we walk through a church then see the cafe where we should have had coffee. Their cakes are out of this world (or is that wald) and the area is much quieter. But the greener grass does not greatly bother us and we move on.

Next stop is Oppenau. It is built next to a large stream which now forms a canal through part of the town. It is very picturesque and has one building which is cantilevered over the fast flowing stream. Another has water gushing from an adjoining stream from a canal under it. We visit some shops and walk along the stream then see a poster which suggests (or states to the German proficient) that there is a music festival today. We ask directions at a stall which is partly attended by young female students. When we ask if anyone speaks English the girls answer in the affirmative. Among a lot of giggling they give directions in their best school English, maybe their first serious use of the language.

We follow their directions to a large, recently built hall where a music festival is in progress. It is intended to raise money Food and wine etc are available so we order a viena schitzel and gemuse mit kartoffelsalat, not really knowing what gemuse included nor how we would metabolise the kartoffelsalat. The waitress speaks some english and is very helpful and friendly, as are all Germans we meet.During our meal, a brass band plays, with rather too long breaks between pieces, which are all rather similar. As it happens, the meal is a little ordinary but the experience is not.

After leaving Oppenau we drive higher into the Schwartzwald to find the Schwarzwaldhochstrasse, a road at the top of the ridge from which we have been promised more panoramic views.

As we climb we come across a sign which suggests a waterfall is near. This is deep in the forest and involves a walk through the forest and up many, many stairs, passing the waterfall which is really a series of waterfalls. We climb some 100s of metres as the waterfall cascades next to us. At the top of our climb we are rewarded with a medieval ruins of a monastry and associated gardens and water features originally founded in the 12th century.

We return to our car and continue upward to the Hochstrasse. Another suggested sight is the Mummelsee, a small lake which has attached a shop selling original Schwalduhren. These clocks have varying degrees of animation which include actions such as woodcutting and other tasks performed by tiny models which operate on the hour. A clock can range from 20 euro to 400 euro depending on actions etc.

We drive back to our van in its industrial surroundings and close ourselves in for the night, imagining we are in rather more aesthetic surroundings. But we have no complaints as we have gained immeasurably through our misadventure with the engine. So many of the highlights of our odessy have been through unplanned events.
The night is not as cold as the last two and we sleep well.

Monday 10 October 2011: Offenburg , Germany

We wake at 7 am with the alarm as we need to push the van into the repair premises by 7.45 am. We are ready when Addie arrives and with the help of some others push the van into the workshop with Ro steering. The parts should arrive by 10 am and Addie will have the belt on before then. We fiddle around doing not a lot until 10 when the news comes that the parts will not arrive until tomorrow. Nothing we can do so we hop on our bikes and visit the city to look at some statues.

As it happens there is a fish market on today. Although this may conjure up ideas of smelly fish on trays, the reality is a lot of attractively decorated stalls, including an excellent pirate ship stall and a mini Eifel Tower replica, where we have some beautiful fish and more kartoffel. Kartoffel is ubiquitous and plentiful in Germany. After lunch we ride along a river to a lake then return via an OBI store. In order to balance my waiting around while Ro shops, we spend some time in Bunnings type stores. After not a lot of 'Can I have this. Can I have that' we purchase some essentials, like another screwdriver and some bike lamps and some electrical connectors, then head back to our base.

Addie has recommended we visit a small town about 30 km from Offenburg and when we return he states that he has finished work and would be happy to take us to the town he suggested. It is called Gengenbach and it turns out it is his favourite town.

We gladly accept and after a short trip spend a spellbound hour or so looking at Addie's favourite village vistas. Words cannot capture the magic of the laneways and squares in this town. There is a working water wheel which powers the grinding mill for a backerei (bakery). Down narrow laneways are houses side by side and separated across the street by three metres. At first floor level they step out to give more room for the occupants but even less room between each and its opposite house. Construction is heavy framing beams with infilled panels of straw, mud and cow dung, which form excellent insulation barriers against the cold.

We leave Gengenbach and return via a schloss which is now a youth hostel. The building is impressive, reminding us of how important ornamentation was in times bygone. The views are panoramic and Addie comments that they are even better from the schloss roof which is open once or twice a year.

Returning to our van which is still inside the repair shop, Addie suggests we leave it there overnight for added warmth. Our relationship has grown to the extent where he feels secure in the knowledge that we will look after the building and contents and we hope that we can offer to return some of his hospitality if he gets to Australia, which he hopes to do in a year or two. Our breakdown has turned out to be our good fortune. Perhaps slightly costly good fortune, but good nonetheless.

Tuesday 11 October 2011: Offenburg , Germany.

There is nothing for us to do this morning but sightsee as the van will not be ready before lunchtime at the earliest.

Addie has suggested we visit some medieval ruins about 30 km away. The largest ruin is near a town called Sexau. He says to use the car again and we gratefully accept.
Following Thomasina's instructions, we set off. We have set the path to fastest so we have 30 km of motorway driving. At last, a bit of highish speed driving with a vehicle with some go, instead of the torturous ordeal which the van presents. But our luck is out as there are roadworks and the limit is 80. Here I had ideas of driving at 300 klicks in our loaned 1992 Golf and they have been dashed!

However the motorway roadworks end and I have my open speed limit. At 140 in the Golf, I lower my goal. Close formation flying at 140 is enough for today. Maybe in a Beamer with no traffic I would try 200.

As we drive down a steep road roward Sexau through beautiful countryside and villages, we look at our map. Where are these ruins? Not up that laneway nor behind that house. We do a u-turn in Sexau and start driving back. Then we see it. It is massive and just on this side of the hill we just descended. We actually drove past the entrance on the way down.

Returning to the entrance we walk 300 metres to the ruins. They are extensive and have been made slightly safer for visitors with fences etc. We walk through shells of buildings and under arches then climb to the top walkway. Once again the views are magnificent.
By lunchtime we have seen all we want to so return to the car. In our last hours in Germany Ro is keen to try some of the cakes which we see in abundance at bakeries so we decide to drive back to Gengenbach to have lunch. On arrival, lunch followed by rich cake seems unlikely so we settle for coffee and rich cake and skip lunch. Besides, we were due back at the van by 1.30 pm hoping to leave today and that possibility also seems to be receding.

As it happens, we return at 2.30 and the van is not quite ready as the parts arrived late. By the time the push rods and rocker cover are refitted, the engine warmed to change the oil, a flat tyre fixed and the exhause system improved, it is too late to leave so we spend our 6th night in Offenburg.

The final bill for the van is 980 euro, significantly more than I had hoped but the original estimate did not include a broken rocker arm, an oil change, a tyre repair and an exhaust repair. Add 160 euro for towing and it has not been inexpensive. However if it had been an overhead cam engine, the bill would have been a lot, lot more.

Wednesday 12 October 2011: offerburg , Germany.

Today we leave, finally. By 9 am we are on the road. But not the road to France as expected but the road to Wolfach where there is a glass manufacturing factory we wish to visit before exiting Germany.

The factory has a nicely laid out shop which has thousands of glass items plus a Weinachten Raum which is full of Christmas trees all decorated in glass and china ornaments and fairy lights in different rooms decorated as German village homes. There are icicles with small lights around the rooves and the odd Santa here and there, one recumbant and snoring. The whole setup is delightful.

We go out to the factory to see glass blowing. Visitors can request a vase be made for 12 euro. The rather remarkable thing is that they may stand by the glass blower as he manipulates the glass at 1000 degrees C. It would seem that fear of litigation has not destroyed German society the way it has in meny ways in Australia.

We watch, fascinated, as the glass artizans heat the glass to 1100 degrees before rotating the glass to form a sphere of about 150mm diameter. They reheat then roll the sphere in various plates of coloured glass so that the glowing ball looks like a peppercorn. As they reheat the glass chips are diffused into the sphere. The most amazing thing is the fact that the colour can change dramatically as it cools. From a colourless white it changes to a vivid blue, red, yellow or green or combinations of colours.

We leave the factory with the intention of having coffee at the restaurant, but as too many others have thought similarly we instead retreat to our van and have coffee and cake there.

Now we are on our way to France. We set Thomasina and begin our journey.
The motor seems to be running well. The additive which Addie recommended is supposed to coat the engine parts, improve compression, reduce fuel and oil consumption and to make the engine quieter and smoother. I had enquired if I should have a teaspoon with breakfast but that is not suggested on the label. The engine does seem quieter, smoother and more powerful so we set off with high hopes.

Our hopes are dashed when we notice an odour which suddenly turns into a cloud of blue smoke. Furthermore, the engine revs uncontrolled by the accelerator and even stays revving after the ignition is turned off and the key removed. Which is a mistake as the steering then locks and we are still moving. Oh dear! You might guess that nothing catastrophic happened in the ensuing seconds as we are still posting blogs.

Once the smoke lessens, I open the bonnet to determine the source. There is oil on the exhaust manifold and oil leaking from the rocker cover. When the engine is started again, it roars again out of control then stops. Odd that. A bit later we try again and it is OK. But the oil is still leaking. I decide that the oil on the manifold was probably sucked into the inlet and provided fuel without any diesel necessary. A bit scary ,that.
Next problem is that we have no phone so cannot ring Addie. Our problem is short lived as a motorcyclist pulls up and asks in perfect english if we need help. He offers his mobile phone and I ring Addie. Even more fortunately, our motorcyclist helper is German and can explain to Addie in German which is good as my Gedrman explanation would be lacking in the extreme.

It happens that we are about 6y0 km from Offenburg so Addie says he can be to us in about 1 hour. We thank our helper and wait for Addie. It is a bit embarrassing to call him out but I do not have the tools to do it myself. When I express my concerns he says he guarantees his work and this is covered by that. He also is thankful we were not well into France.

He spends half an hour removing the rocker cover and finds no fault with the seal or the cover so decides to use a silicone gasket cement to seal the leak. hat he does and refits the parts then runs the motor while looking for leaks. There seem to be none so we all have a hot drink and bid farewell again.

We continue on for another hour and find a camp site near Freiburg. However there is a problem in checking in at the late hour so we instead wild camp yet again, albeit in a rather more aesthetic environment than the last six nights.

Thursday 13 October 2011: Freiburg , Germany.

We wake early as we would like to make up lost time and have a 10 hour trip ahead.
We are on the road by 8.15 am, the earliest ever. Within an hour or so we have crossed the Rhine and are in France again.

We have selected Avoid Freeways again which adds surprisingly little time to the trip over selecting Fastest which would include freeways. In addition, the Fastest route is generally longer despite being quicker. But the roads we get to travel when we avoid freeways are beautiful. Apart from the occasional blockage which cause some headaches and add time to our trip.

At one such blockage, we decide to have some coffee so drive a little looking for a place to stop. As has been the case probably half a dozen times during our trip, we end up stopping outside a cemetary. We find the parking easy and rarely have any other cars next to us. Furthermore cemetaries are very common due to the elaborate grave markings which are favoured.

As we negotiate the detour which the road repairers hint at with confusing signs, a tractor and large trailer turn into the narrow laneway. Why the driver entered the lane when obviously only one could pass is not clear. This required us to drive up an embankment with two wheels while the top of the van tipped precariously toward the tractor. We inched by and continued. Such events are common in Europe.

A few hours later we stop at a small village at a Patisserie to buy some quiches, some pasteries and a bagette for lunch. A short while later we pull off the road and drive down a steep laneway looking for a place with a view. These are hard to come by as roads are narrow and pull off points rare. Often a superb view is glimpsed briefly between trees but there is nowhere to stop and savour.

The steep laneway offers no appropriate stopping point so we U turn in a drive and go back up the laneway in first gear, stopping instead at an inauspicious location behind a small unoccupied car for our lunch.

After a few more hours of driving, I am getting tired and we choose to stay at a campsite out of Lyon. Thomasina's reprogrammed path takes us through the outskirts of Vienne through an old, delapidated part of the city. The roads are very narrow, especially when cars park one side. It is normal practice to use the other lane in such circumstances and the oncoming traffic waits patiently. On this occasion, an oncoming driver flashes his headlights and generally carries on. I assume he is accustomed to roads suddenly widening or oncoming traffic evaporating. Or maybe he is just an impatient bastard.

By 6pm we are at our campsite, having negotiated more steep and narrow roads. There is an establishment which provides dinner. Trying to determinbe what this may be is not easy. Little english is spoken and Ro's french is tested. We choose what we believe will be a beef casserole but which turns out to be a rather dried out shepherd's pie of sorts with lettuce and mayonnaise. Dessert is a choice of something or something else. I choose the former.

Friday 14 October 2011: Lyon , France.

We have been asked whether we require pain (bread) in the morning. The french equivalent of 'What's your poison' is 'What's your pain', but loses a little in translation. The pain we choose is one bagette and two croissants. At 8.30 they are delivered to our door. We enjoy one croissant for breakfast and some bagette, keeping the remainder for later during our day's journey, which will be to a camp site near Avignon, 253km or 4.5 hours when avoiding freeways (but not necessarily cemetaries).

We leave by 10.15 am not realising that Thomasina has planned her most diabolical route so far. We thought we had experienced narrow but those were freeways compared with the roads we will experience today.

As an aperitif we drive down a track which most respecting home owners would take a slasher to. Before the day is out, we will be asking at what point we say NO to Thomasina. This track is getting close to that point.

We persevere and before long we are on a reasonably major road. Continuing on the planned route, our allowing Thomasina her head brings its rewards. We drive along steep winding roads, some we hope carry no other traffic, and get panoramic views over dozens of kilometers of farming land. We travel down long steep serpentine roads between towering rocky mountains either side. Some of these roads are cut into rock and it is a concern that the top of the van will scrape as we hug the wall to let another oncoming car pass. Short tunnels blasted through the rock are wide enough for one vehicle only.

Finally when we get out of the mountainous region, we pass through a small village called Banon wher we negotiate our narrowest street yet. This laneway at the back of houses, presumably a test set by Thomasina, is so narrow that, were we to meet a fieldmouse in a peddlecar, one of us would have to reverse. Now I am a pretty egalitarian sort of guy, but under these circumstances I would have pulled size rank and it would be the mouse who would be backing up. Perhaps I may reconsider if it were towing a caravan.

Having negotiated this laneway we exit the village via a treed roadway which involves a slalom course with oncoming trafic, a piece of cake after our previous encounter.
Finally we arrive at our campsite, which is deserted. With sunlight running out, we decide we can either wild camp outside or chance continuing on to another campsite 20km away. This we do, arriving at 7.30 pm. It turns out to be a good choice.

We are welcomed by a Dutchman who speaks handsfuls of languages, one of which is English. He is quite enebriated by his own admssion but makes a bee line (the bee may have been similarly enebriated ) to a golf buggy and asks us to follow. He drives 30 metres and shows us a site we can park our van. He sees to the power cord, somehow managing to avoid electrocuting himself and bids us goodnight in some language we didn't recognise.
Pleased to be tucked in for the night, we have dinner and have an early night.

Saturday 15 October 2011: Banon , France .

The night is cloud free and very cold. Fortunately the van stays reasonably warm now we have realised we must keep the external utiity cupboard cover closed. A mistake we only make once. However we need the heater in the morning.

The day is cloudy but the sun breaks through frequently. We have decided to spend a day or two enjoying the great outdoors. We are either in or on the border of a national park and there are enjoyable walks available.

As we climb a steep track, we look down to the campsite which is largely deserted at this time of the year. The main building is a typical Provence building of stone with light blue shutters. There are dry stone walls peppered about with a pool in a terraced courtyard. Because it is late in the season, a blue cover is in place, which gives it a Greek flavour. Despite being so late in the season, the pool is still 24 degrees.
It is a day of leisure and the walks, a cup of coffee or two and a little reading see out the day.

Another cold night in store, we retreat to our van, light the heater, play some Jaques Loussier music on our quite acceptable audio unit and retire to bed. Before doing so, we brave the cold to look at the northern sky. But there is not enough to enthrall us more than the cold dismays us so we return to the warmth and go to bed.

Sunday 16 October 2011: Banon , France.

The morning dawns colder than yesterday because the sky has remained clear. But that means the sun will warm the air sooner. Despite the promise of a warm day, we need the heater during breakfast.

We had not decided whether we would get back on the tourist trail today or not, but the clear sky tempts us to spend another day of relaxation in the sun.

We walk the paths we enjoyed yeaterday, seeing new things and being re enchanted by sights we have already seen.

It is a good day to polish the van so I do that here and there over some hours, reading and enjoying the sun between bouts of activity. I borrow a small step ladder to aid the task and by the day's end, we are pleased with the result. Ro has also blackened the bumper with plastic blacking polish so the camping car is looking quite respectable. Were we to meet the German border police now, they may not want to look inside this time.
Some distance before we arrived, Ro expressed dismay after reading about bories that we had not seen one. A borie is a small circular structure built of stones not joined by mortar with a circular domed roof which was used as shelter over many enturies and up until last century. Today we find one, including an old timber door near a dry stone wall.

By the time we arrive back it is getting late so we have dinner and go to bed early with the idea of leaving next morning for Orange.

Monday 17 October 2011: Banon , France.

As planned, we leave for Orange, but not as early as we had hoped after doing a few chores.

Our plan is to visit Orange, Avignon and Arles. Thomasina has plotted a course for Orange which avoids Avignon and we think that is a good idea. The only slight impediment is that I set the destination as Avignon instead of Orange. Shame that. We see numerous signs to Avignon but think our route will deviate before the city. When we discover my mistake, we are 6 km from Avignon city centre. Not that it makes much difference to travel time to reset our destination to Orange.

We do that and soon think that coffee time has arrived. As we have not seem a cemetary for some time, we go off road and find an orchard in which we can park while we have our morning tea. For some reason, no matter how isolated a place we choose, we frequently find that someone on a tractor or similar implement will turn up. Fortunately, this time that does not happen so we enjoy our coffee and cake in solitude.

When we go through a roundabout, which in Europe is dozens of times a day, Thomasina directs 'Cross the roundabout, third exit' in a school marm voice. But there is an unmistakable subtext of 'but don't cross me'. Whenever we alter Thomasina's course, she endeavours to reset a new course to compensate for our (she assumes) stupidity. When no course exists in the direction we have turned, there are terse directions of 'Turn around when possible' with a just tolerant tone in her voice. We normally have one or two altercations of this type each day. But she does seem to be trying to soften her approach as we can at times detect a slightly lowered volume and a more husky voice when she coos 'Then take the second left'.

We arrive at Orange about 1 pm. We park where we think it is legal and feed 2 euro into the meter to get the maximum of 2 hours and 15 minutes. Non of this easy decimal rubbish. But the time which we need to return is shown as 16:15, 3 hours and 15 minutes hense. Later we find that the parking is free between 12 and 2 because all the shops are shut then. This includes the Tourist Office. We return to the office at 5 to 2. At 2 to 2 a Frenchman enters the office and locks the door. As we inspect a map on the door, at 2 exactly he unlocks the door but does not open it. When we enter, he is behind the counter, and offers a cordial Bon Jour to our greeting. Ro asks him if he speaks English. His abrupt answer is " Of course, that is why I wear this badge." and points to a lapel badge which we assume said something like "I speak English". We were too shocked to explain that we generally look people in their eyes before inspecting their chests. Admittedly some chests warrant checking out before eye contact, but his was not one of them.

His carefully manicured interpersonal skills, obviously well suited to tourism, are further exercised when we ask him if he has any literature in english about sights in Orange. We have almost finished the word 'english' when he whips out a brochure from under the counter, flinging it open in the one gesture and states "We are 'ere. The Arc de Triumph is there and the Antique Theatre is there." Three rapid circles around our current position and his interaction with us is finished. "Av a good day" are his parting words.

By now we have removed our bikes from the van so we cycle to the Antique Theatre. This is commonly regarded as the best Roman ruin in Europe. It is amazing. It is thought to have been built at the start of the first century AD and was the first permanent theatre built. The proportions are impressive. The stagewall is 103 metres long and 37 metres high and has seating for 10,000 people. The design carefully considered accoustics and to enhance the accoustice, large bronze jars of varying dimensions were placed strategically to allow actors' voices to project. The jars were sized to project appropriate frequencies to appropriate parts of the theatre.

We leave to visit the museum associated with the Antique Theatre, which is also very interesting. We see maps carved in marble which depicted land holdings, each numbered and with varying legal attachments. Fragments of the map have been reassenbled on a wall. On two other floors we see artworks and a history of fabric printing both of which make the visit well worthwhile.

It is getting late and we need to find a place to stay. Thomasina can find no camping sites near here, the closest being 100km away. But a 'Lonley Planet' book given to us shows one site..... which is now closed. We ride there on our bikes to check whether it is closed, closed and it turns out is is. Totally deserted. However there is a car park outside so that will be our site for the night.

But before that we see a ittle eating place which will suit us for dinner. Fortunately the waitress speaks English. And French. And Estonian. And Russian. And Spanish. And Portugese. There may be some others, but there is a limit to her memory.
We choose from the menu, pleased that we have some idea this time what we are about to be served. The meal is very tasty, if a little too big.

Now to set ourselves up in our parking area outside the camping ground. It is dark so we hope that we will go unnoticed, that is if anyone cares anyway. As we are wild camping, we are reliant on our batteries. The unfortunate part is that the voltage is dropped by devices we are using which lowers the speed of the water pump which makes showering more like squirting ones self with a syringe. We had hoped to use the heater but that requires a fan. We had hoped to be able to see but that requires lights. Thus our shower is done by bike headlight in order to have a reasonable shower. At least it is nice and hot which is more than we can say for many of our camping ground showers which either have 15 second timers, luke warm water or both.

All is quiet as I go to sleep at about 10.00. Unfortunately Ro cannot get to sleep and is alarmed when a dumpmaster type truck turns up to empty a waste bin at 11 or 12 oclock. As the truck roars to feed its hydraulics Ro says she was reminded of an event in Melbourne recently where we visited a metal recycler and the truck was revaged by an unloading magnet crane whick rocked the vehicle mercilessly while Ro was alone and helpless inside. We assume that the truck is visiting at midnight to make up lost time from the midday siesta here. I keep sleeping like a baby.

Tuesday 18 October 2011: Orange , France.

A less chilly night is followed by a cool rather than cold morning. We leave our illegal (we assume) camping spot and have breakfast along the way. Along the way turns out to be very nearly on the way as we can find no open leafy spot to stop. Instead we have morinng traffic rocking the van as it passes one side and the roar of vehicles on the freeway on the other side.

We continue after breakfast, looking for a MacDonalds for some wifi. We cannot connect so try another. We have trouble there too, but it turns out that some wifi servers want Windows Explorer rather than Mozilla as the browser. That allows us to connect. We have some coffee designed to grow hairs on solid rock then continue to citie des papes which is what we wish to see.

Fortunately a camping ground just over the Rhone River is open and we can leave the van there and ride our bikes to the walled city.

For some 100s of years from 14th century, Avignon was the centre of Christendom because there was political unrest in Rome. After a ride around part of the city, we have lunch purchased from a boulangerie/patisserie in a small park which is adjacent to a ubiquitous church (or maybe Catholic....I am not sure).

Le Palais des Papes is an outsatandingly well preserved Gothic palace built by successive popes in the walled city. A short ride gets us to the palace where we purchase tickets for 10 euro including an audio commentary. It takes over 2 hours to view the 23 rooms on display. As usual, the proportions are gargantuan. There is a number of models, one of which shows scaffolding and winches thought to have been used at that time. I find myself full of admiration at the engineering in the absence of today's technology.

By 5.30 pm we are a bit foot sore. In Germany one gets sclossed out. In France one suffers palais malaise.

We ride across the bridge which connects the river island on which our camp is situated. There is an English couple with whom Ro strikes a conversation and we have a drink and chat with them before they walk to the walled city for dinner and we, suffering palais malaise, have dinner in the van.

After dinner we go for a bike ride along the river bank, testing out the bike lights we purchased in Offenburg. The night is clear but quite warm and we hope it will not be as cold as last night.

Tomorrow we will travel to Arles where we want to walk the van Gough path. However we may visit the walled city again before we leave. One of the many nice things about our camping car is that we can adjust our travel itinery on a day by day basis depending on what we find of interest. If we don't get to Arles tomorrow, it doesn't matter. The only consideration is that Arles is only 40 minutes away but does not seem to have any camping grounds open so we need to travel further or wild camp. If the latter, maybe a saucepan full of warm water will help our shower flow. That or leave the engine running when we shower to boost the voltage. Perhaps the vibration would also loosen the day's grime.

Wednesday 19 October 2011: Avignon , France.

We have revised our plan and now intend to go to the walled city this morning to see the Angladon Museum which has a collection from the coutourier Jaques Doucet of art, furniture and collectables from the 19th and 20th century. We intend doing that early but somehow the morning slips by partially because be have to empty waste water and refill our water tank in case we need to wild camp. We speak with some other English campers who alert us to a lat and long in Arles where we can wild camp at a spot set up for that. They also mention that the French are very tolerant of wild camping so that alays our concerns.

We ride to the city and, with some difficulty, find the museum...... which is closed for lunch. With the French penchant for siestas, we marvel that restaurants don't close for lunch and dinner.

When the museum opens a little after 1, we enter and spend an hour or so looking at the beautiful collection. There is an original van Gough from his time in Arles, a Cezanne and numerous other paintings from lesser known (to me) artists. There were also many art objects, chests of draws, tables and chandelliers spread over two floors. The staircase which joins the two floors, and a third which is not accessible, is a work of art itself with a lovely wrought iron ballustrade and a large light fitting on a long heavy chain.
When we exit, we ride to places in the walled city we did not visit yesterday. Large parts are dirty, seedy and/or delapidated. But there are small pockets we find of quaint and picturesque buildings.

We ride back about 3.30 with the idea of driving to Arles. However we remember we wanted to see Pont du Gard which is more or less on the way.
It is 20 minutes to the Pont and we are directed to the right bank where it seems to be 15 euro to park with no other options. We try the left bank where it is the same. However we discover that the 15 euro includes a film, museum and a day's entry to the Pont du Gard and surrounding parks. Not much use to us at 4pm but good value none the less.

We walk to the Pont du Gard. By now we are used to the vast stone edifices built by the Romans, but they still have a huge impact. To imagine armies of people building the remarkable engineering feats without the aid of modern technology is awe inspiring. We walk across the bridge with the aquaduct towering above us. Stone blocks of up to 6 tonnes were used in its construction.

Later we see a film, unfortunately all in French, which seems to be more about how the area is used and by whom rather than historical information. However the museum has a huge amount of data on the whole aquaduct system, of which Pont du Gard is only a small section. It also has a full sized replica of some of the tools and machinery used in the construction, including some of the hoisting systems used. It is very interesting.

By 7pm just on closing time, we think we better leave for Arles, 40 minutes away. We are confident in the GPS coordinates given to us which from experience generally land us exactly where we need to be. Not so this time. Not unless we want to wild camp in someone's kitchen.

I have always thought that unless you nip bad behaviour in the bud, it will get worse. So it would seem to be with Thomasina. Having very nearly forced us to reverse from a narrow laneway, were it not for the absence of a mouse in a peddlecar towing a caravan, Thomasina now directs us to turn into a narrow laneway, with parked cars and, 150 metres up, a truck past which we cannot get. If that were not enough, in the rear vision mirror appear headlights. I start reversing and get an 'I'm here ' toot (in French of course). I leave the van in reverse and the driver after a moment realises the problem and starts reversing. It is nerve racking watching the camera, which fortunately is quite good at night, and the two mirrors and hoping I can see all impediments and am far enough away from them. The car is fortunate in that it can move clear after 100 metres but I have to reverse out onto a busy road. However I have observed that hazard lights are a 'get out of jail free' card in Europe. With hazard flashers on, you can park on pedestrian crossings, block an entire lane or reverse into a busy road.

That I do, with both busy lanes stopping to allow me a two point turn in reverse. Oh the sense of power....Oh the sense of focus........ Oh the sense of stupidity. But in a puff of diesel smoke we continue, silencing our hazard flashers and becoming just another vehicle doing battle with roads built long before cars and trucks existed.

Houston, we have a problem! Where do we stay tonight? We drive around looking for somewhere appropriate. It isn't that one way street with pedestrians milling around us. It isn't along this seedy street with traffic thundering by. It isn't in the main street on the footpath. So where?

We understood from our English (mis) advisors that the camping place was by the river so we head there. We pass a railway station and see the river. And lo! There are campers and caravans in a veritable little village. That is our place! We drive in and are immediately bailed up by a youth speaking French. He makes it clear that this is private. We realise they are Gypsies! Even if the German police think we are gypsies, the gypsies know we are not. That's a releif. Unless they think we don't meet the standards of gypsiehood. Hopefully we look too upstanding.

We consult Thomasina, limiting her options to lead us up the garden path, or worse, and decide to get out of town a bit. The green area looks promising so we head in that direction. A sign suggests it is a national park area so we continue. But we want to get off the road so turn down a laneway. If that mouse in the peddlecar comes this way, we are in big trouble as tall reedlike crops tower either side. Finally we come to a turn which becomes a plowed field. This will do us. If any car comes along here, they are probably lost.

We hunker down for the night, one ear open for any lurking axe murderers.
But the axe murderers must be busy elsewhere as we have a quiet uninterrupted sleep.

Thursday 20 October 2011: Arles , France.

Until 8 am that is. That is when the farming community gets going. First off is a tractor which we fear will want to seed the field. But it continues down the laneway, its rear implements only just fitting between the dense reeds. A few minutes later, a ute. Then a car. Then a van. Our near deserted laneway becomes a farmer's freeway. Fortunately none wants to enter the field so we have time for breakfast before vacating our campsite.
We travel back to Arles and park in a tow away zone between two trees, with dozens of other cars. Another camper with French plates parks just in front of us so we feel comfortable that we are breaking the law in a time honoured manner acceptable to the population.

It is extremely windy, so much so that at times during the day we need to brace ourselves to avoid losing our balance. It is quite a cold wind so we rug up with warm coats. The wind is called the Mistral and is well known in these parts.

First off is the Roman amphitheatre which is largely in tact and which will be rebuilt using traditional materials over the next few years at a cost of 105 million euro, including a few other projects. What has been done so far gives a glimpse of what it will be like when completed. As always, the scale is astounding. It could accommodate 24,000 spectators which at that time was probably more people than lived within the immediate surrounding areas.

Our main reason for visiting Arles was to walk the van Gough trail. vanGough spent the final years of his life in Arles and most of his paintings were done there as he considered the light far superior to that in Paris. The Mistral did not deter van Gough and we read that he used to set up an easel on steel posts driven into the ground or lie across his canvas as he painted. At various points along the walk, there are facsimilies of his paintings with the actual scene directly behind. The paintings displayed are those in which a substantial part of the scene is the same as when he painted it. It gives a very rewarding context to some of his famous works. Remarkably, he only sold one painting during his lifetime. A far cry from the esteem in which his work is held today. But had he been exhaulted then, perhaps his paintings may not be as they are. How selfish that seems.
By 3 pm we are footsore again so return to the van for afternoon tea before driving to look at the bridge he famously painted.

We park the van and start walking in the direction of the bridge. Along the way, next to a small tributary of the Rhone are moored houseboats, many of them converted barges like those we saw in Germany on the Rhine but smaller. After walking a kilometre it occurs to us that the bridge may be another kilometer away and we don't want to walk that far plus the return distance. We cut our losses and return to the van and drive what turns out to be another kilometer to the bridge.

It is a pleasant feeling being by the bridge we know so well through van Gough's painting. The brdge itself is interesting as I have not seen one like it before. There is also one pair of gates of a lock but the other pair is absent as is the reason for the lock since there is no difference in height.

Our next port of call is on the Mediterranean coast, about 2 hours away. We want to see how naturism works in France so are heading for a naturist village called Cap d'Adge. It is more than a village actually as in high season there are up to 40,000 people there. It is a complete city where clothes are unnecessary pretty well anywhere within the city!

Our trip is uneventful, even boring. Although the route is not built up, open countryside is almost non existent. The most interesting thing we see is a bridge which opens to let sailing boats through and next to it a railway bridge which does the same, by employing a massive strusture which pivots from one bank. We cannot stop to photograph the railway bridge as we are in a 20 minute traffic jam. A shame as it was noteworthy engineering feat.

We arrive at Cap d'Adge and it is quite cool. There are still quite a few cars parked and some moving about. But the camping area has been closed from 15 October until March next year. The area apart from the camping area is a bit of a concrete jungle. It has hotels, apartments, shops and such. Maybe the impression is different when it is teaming with people.

We have another problem in that we have no place to park again. However, as it is a resort in summer, there is loads of parking so we stop at an appropriate car park between some apartment blocks and wild camp for the night.

Friday 21 October 2011: Cap d'Adge , France.

The morning is sunny and wind free but it is cold and will be until the sun warms the air. We farewell our rather bleak surroundings and continue down the coast hoping for warmer weather.

Spain looks good, but we decide it is too far this time so instead stop at a seaside village, which turns out to be quite a development, reminescent of the development around Port Douglas.

However, as we are increasingly finding, all the camp sites are closed. We search a few places along the coast and eventually end up at a parking lot for campers. For 7.20 euro per 24 hours we can enter the desolate parking lot via a boom gate and credit card reader. The money taking system is the most developed thing about the site. It is at least on the beachfront and the water temperature is not too bad so, depending on the sun, we may chance a swim. As it happens, we don't.

But we do go for a bike ride through an older style beach side area somewhat similar to what we see on the Mornington Penninsula near Melbourne. Two highlights are the structures on the beach which we assume are life saving posts. They are painted in contrasting colours. One is, in the absence of any other description, interesting and the other one is like an oversized beach chair with a roof. They both show the French passion for design, which we have often observed can outweigh the requirement for practicality and functionality.

When we return, we close up the van for the evening. This involves closing curtains over side windows and over the truck cabin area. This provides warmth on these cold evenings but more aesthetically pleasing, provides a cocoon where, despite what may be evident outside, we have our own private world. We are fortunate that the van is fitted with a half decent sound system and the positioning of the speakers gives good bass and treble response. We brought with us a number of our favourite CDs including Chopin's piano nocturnes and we play this during dinner and as we relax after dinner bathed in candle light.

Later we go to bed but tonight a little more snug as we purchased a sleeping bag during the day at Lidel, our favourite shopping place in all the countries we have visited, a least partially because of familiarity.

Saturday 22 October 2011: Cap Leucate , France.

We vacate our park about 10 am via the exit boom gate. A French motorhome has parked across the exit beyond the boom gate and we talk in scathing terms as the driver ambles about with no regard for holding up those about to exit.

We soon understand why he is in no hurry. To exit we have to enter a code printed on our entry ticket. By this means, a camper which has overstayed its paid time can be prevented from leaving until the correct amount is paid. However the touch screen on which one enters the exit code is more of a touchy screen. Pressing a numeral on the screen either does not enter the digit or enters it multiple times. The French driver has pressumably just experienced this so knows he has time for a coffe, cake and siester before we actually get throught the boom gate. He is right because, by the time we get through the boom gate, he is well out of sight.

As we start our day's travel, we take a detour toward the beach and find a rocky headland high above the village we had ridden through last night. We walk across the rocks and explore a ruin of a building which although possible centuries old, looks like it may nave been used during the Second World War as a lookout post. Further over are numerous rock fences from earlier times, although we cannot imagine what their function may have been. Further away is a town called Cap Leucate but surprisingly the unmade road accessing it is not open to public vehicles.

We are heading inland and have a travel time of 3 hours. The roads which Thomasina takes us on are narrow and picturesque again. There is open countryside interspersed by outcrops of civilization, albeit at a pleasantly unsophistocated level. We drive through ancient villages with twists and turns in the laneways. Vinyards abound. We have been surprised that vines can grow in such stoney areas. In some vinyards one can see only stones and no soil at all. But here, the density of stones is decreasing and patches of soil are evident.

Continuing on our way, we arrive at our camp site about 4 pm. It is just open but there are no other customers. The female host is welcoming but the male is less than friendly. Presumably for him the season has already finished.

It is a cold night and by the morning we have determined we will seek a warmer climate, with regard to both the weather and the campsite proprietors.

Sunday 23 October 2011: ????? , France.

Partly in an effort to avoid the sprawl of Toulouse, we have decided to head north west to see the Cathedral of Saint Marie in Auch. The cathedral here is renouned for its beauty and was complimented by Nepoleon when he said it should be in a museum. Some people have complimented me in the same terms from time to time.

Along the way we stop for morning tea on a ridge with panaoramic views either side. After coffee and cake, a quick walk would be in order. We had been complementing ourselves on having morning tea not in sight of a cemetary, but our walk confirms that there is a cemetary within 150 metres but just out of our sight because of the geography. It is nice to have constants in one's life.

When we arrive in Auch we look for a parking space for our van and pass some perfect places between trees. To reverse our direction of travel, all we need to do is drive the wrong way down a traffic island, the wrong way up a one way street and over a kerb or two. Piece of cake if you have hazard lights. One motorist held up her hands in horror but presumably she had learned to drive befor hazard lights were fitted to cars.

Having reversed the direction of our van, all that remains to do is to drive to the wrong side of the road and into the space which it turns out is a bit short for us. The length of each space is determined by the random spacing of trees planted many decades ago. Unfortunately the perfect length spot for us is taken up by a micro car which fills 1/8 of the allocated space.

We lock the van walk up stairs to the cathedral. There are rather more stairs than were first evident and by the top we think it is time to go back. But we soldier on to the church door. But, of course the cathedral is closed from 12 until 2 and it is now 1.45. e occupy ourselves for 15 minutes, in the mistaken belief that closed 12 to 2 implies open at 2. Not so. 2.10 will do. Thus the tens of people waiting (this is low season) from 2 wait until 2.10.

But the wait is well worth it. The inside is spectacular. The towering vaulted ceiling supported by flying buttresses we saw ourside. Magnificent stained glass windows. Ornate carved timber alters and choir stands. Unusually, the alter is an island within the church around which are alcoves with alters and exquisite stained glass.

This is probably the finest cathedral we have seen. Some others are more spectacular and others more ornate. But the overall effect of this cathedral is in all ways spectacular.
Our camp site is still 1 1/2 hours away so we continue. Our Lonley Planet book has suggested the quaintest medieval village is in this region. Quaint and medieval are not words I would normally put together and as such we are interested. We set Larressingle, the site of the village, as a through point in Tom Tom, but unfortunately we are past Condom when we realize Thomasina has stuffed up. We have not passed the town at all. We choose to retrace our steps about 15 km and visit the walled city.

It is indeed quaint. The wall is only about 150 metre in diameter but is largely intact. One could imagine the inhabitants closing up the fromt gate when threatened and peering down from their lofty vantage points as invading armies attempted to penetrate the wall. Inside, the village consists of houses, a church and a large building which is externally complete but internally not accessible due to disrepair.

Travelling another 1 1/4 hours we arrive at our camp site where we are welcomed by a small dog who, in his excitement, insists on investigating inside the van. His owner emerges from a restautant/bar and bids us a cheerie Bon Jour and Hello. Unfortunately, Hello is the extent of his English. His wife is the English speaker and will be back in one hour, we come to understand utilizing Ro's limited French. He invites us for a welcome drink and introduces himself and a friend who speaks a little more English.

With a little French understanding on our part and a little English understanding on their part, we have an animated discussion over a glass of wine and a lemon drink. What the conversation was about may deopend on the native language if the participant to whom you speak. When Jean-Mark complements Ro on her pronunciation, the resultant boost in confidence helps the conversation further. Before we leave to position our van before dark, Didier's wife Evelyne arrives and we share some laughs and conviviality. We will enjoy this camp site.

Monday 24 October 2011: ??????? (a different ??????) , France .

Today dawns overcast and cool. But there are little wafts of warm air, a bit like warm currents found in water bodies. We have a day of rest planned, which for me includes a bit of van fixing. My engineering background means I can only survive a certain number of days before wanting to fix something. Ro has the same requirement to do something but pianos are few, vegie patches non existent and home making is limited in a small camper van. She does exercise her creativity in meal preparation, which are always scrumptious, no matter how stale the bread she has to work with, and photography, with her eye for colour and composition.

My first task is to fit a new exhaust fan outlet. The old fan was missing but, along with other nic naks, I had brought with me a computer fan with the idea of fitting a bathroom fan. Instead I replaced the kitchen fan. The outlet for the fan had been blocked with a plastic cap so I had removed it. The resutant hole I had replaced with a modified aluminium drink can. Unfortunately trees and other assorted shrubbery had seen fit to remove my addition on two occasions. I had bought a proper vent in Offenburg but some modification with a jigsaw was required. At our last site, the manager had known what a jigsaw was but had not been very forthcoming in loaning it to me. But Didier is as enthusiastic to please as is his little dog. When I suggest I want to borrow something, he is ecstatic about helping. I suspect he does not have a clue about what I want or why, but he is enthusiastic none the less.

I have riden my bike to the reception building and made my request known in some fashion. Didier jumps into his golf cart and beckons me to follow on my bike. We take off at hgh speed toward an out building which serves as a workshop. At the door of the shed, which is a centuries old stone building, Didier motions me to follow. He dramatically picks up a tennon saw. Voila! Non Non says I. Electric. I have been making the motion of a jig saw and an appropriate noise which I think is quite clear. It would seem not. He picks up an electric drill. Voila! Non Non says I as I repeat the jigsaw movement. Voila says Didier excitedly as the penny drops. We move to another room where he shows me an electric pruning saw, more appropriate for dismembering the van rather than cutting a small hole in the roof. Voila! Non Non says I. A perplexed expression comes over his face. A pause. Then he says pointedly "Moi" pointing to himself then points two fingers to his eyes. We will go and inspect the job. He races off in the buggy with me in hot pursuit. I show him the vent and there is some confusion as to what I want to do with the vent. Drill? Non. We decide to go to Evelyne to clarify the requirement. I ditch the bike and join Didier in the cart as we race over to Evelyne.

Evelyne's English is many times better than Didier's but her knowledge of tools is not. Eventually we get across the concept of jigsaw and another Voila results. I have more hope that we will get the correct tool this time because I didn't see any elephants over at the shed.

We do get the right tool but there are no metal cutting baldes. After some discussion I convince Didier that it is not hugely important so I won't do it today. He seems disappointed and, after returning to Evelyne for translating, says tomorrow he can get a metal blade.

Instead Ro and I go for a walk. That is until we see a sign which Ro thinks says this is a shooting range. We find this somewhat unnerving, especially as we had heard from Mavis and Terry that shooting is mixed with alcohol in France, often with fatal consequences .
On our return from our walk we see a dead refrigerator lying forelornley on its back. Nearby is a plastic coated rack which we would like to womble as a drying rack above the cooking hob. But it is too grotty so we forget the idea. As an afterthought we look in the fridge and there is a plated rack which will do splendidly. If I can't fit the fan exhaust, at least I can fit a drying rack. We check with Didier and Evelyne that it is scrap and on receiving an affirmative, my afternoon is decided. As it happens, I decide I can use our grinder to remove the metal and Didier's jigsaw to cut the wood so I am able to fit the exhause vent. Another successful afternoon.

Nearby we have read about a site at Lascaux which has wall paintings dating back to 15,000 BC which was discovered in 1940. Tomorrow we will explore those before camping 2 hours travel from Charroux. We have enjoyed our interactions with Didier and Evelyne who embody all the qualities the hauty French are reputed to lack.

Tonight we will be serenaded first by Chopin and later by the rain which is falling gently as we close up for the night. But before bed, we set up our drying room in the bathroom to dry clothes hand washed by Ro during her day of rest. This will aclimatise us for Singapore in a week and a half.

Tuesday 25 October 2011 : ??????? (a different ??????) , France .

After an early breakfast, started at 7.30 when it is still dark outside, we are ready to travel by 8.45. However, paying our camping fees and farewells to Didier and Evelyne take another 15 minutes. We hope to return next year as we like both of them a lot.
The sky is clear but cars approaching us have their headlights on. Soon we discover why.....heavy fog. As the roads are narrow, our speed is low so the fog does not impact our time of travel. But it is very pretty and does not last long.
We have read that this is the prettiest area of France and we think it wins by a country mile over anything we have seen thus far in France. The building style is similar in the villages and we see a number of well restored examples.
Unfortunately we do not have time to linger as we are hoping to see the cave paintings in Lascaux and we have read conflicting reports on the internet about procurement of tickets. We have come to the rather confused conclusion that we need to purchase tickets at Montignac between 10 and 12 or after 2. Thomasina thinks we will be there by 11.45 assuming no wrong turns, unplanned detours or the 1001 other things which conspire to make our 2 hour trips into 4 hour ones.
But apart from one detour all goes well and we arrive in Montignac by 11.45. It is a beautiful village and we find parking easily. Something doesn't seem right. On time. Easy parking. There has to be a catch. There is. We can't find the ticket office and when we do, a sign inside suggests it is an employment office and a sign outside says we have to buy tickets as Lascaux, 2 km away.
We walk back to the van, buying some lunch from a Boulangerie/Patisserie and eat in the van. We purchase a Croque Monsieur, which is a toasted white bread sandwich with ham cheese and white sauce, a similar croissante and some pastries.
We assume we have two hours to kill so look a a church then travel to Lascoux where we discover we can buy tickets for a tour starting in 5 minutes!
Unfortunately the tour is in French so I understand nothing and Ro not a geat deal more. The paintings are actually replicas of the originals. The caves opened to the public in the 1950s, however after 15 years, some degredation was evident due to the number of people passing through. A replica cave and paintings was produced and the original is kept for scholars only.
The paintings are quite sophistocated for what one imagines mankind was like then. Compared with Australian Aboriginal paintings, they appear to be more anatomically accurate but this may be due to different functional or cultural requirements of the paintings.
We leave the site thinking that next time we will only do tours in English.
Our camp site is 1 1/2 hours away and we are not really sure if it is open. We drive back through Montignac and comment that we should return to savour the sights and ambience at leisure.
As the kilometers click by, we relish our choice of non motorways. Next year we will never select motorway because the roads we have experienced have been the true essence of our trip. We continue to be enthralled by the Dordogne area and our belief that this is the prettiest area of France is strengthened with every village and narrow road.
We stop in a lovely little wood for afternoon tea when we are about 30 minutes from our camp site and, having consulted numerous books each of which gives a different opening time, decide it is so pretty that we will wild camp here rather than outside a closed camp. Apart from the odd shotgun blast and the the occasional owl hoot (hopefully the two not linked) it is peaceful and quiet. As Chopin is played on the CD, we have dinner, shower and go to bed. This may be our last night this year in the van and we are a little sad in some ways. The van has become part of us. With its faults, imperfections and endearing qualities it is a bit like us.

Wednesday 26 October 2011: Yet another ??????? France.

The morning, like the night before, is cold. But the positive is that there is an enchanting mist which sits in the adjacent valley. The sky is clear and the sun rises illuminating the misty valley in beauty.

We contintinue toward Charroux, about 1 3/4 hours away. It feels a bit like going home and we are looking forward to seeing Mavis and Terry at Bois d'amour.

However, as we travel, we check today's date, 26th, in our minds and it occurs to us that 26th may have been the date that Mavis said she would be returning to Britain. Have we confused dates again?

When we arrive, the locked gate confirms we have. A trip down to what we remember is John's house does not help. Neither he nor Carol is there. We go back to Charroux Central (ie 500 metre back) and seek Brenda, the helpful insurance agent, who remembers Ro's face. John, she says, is about but she is not sure of Mavis's whereabouts.

We return to wait for John and start composing an email to Mavis explaining our mistake when John turns up. He was, indeed, taking Mavis and Terry to Poitiers. Damn!

Fortunately he has a key to Mavis and Terry's property so we decide we will stay there in the van and prepare it for the winter. John has very kindly offered to take us to a nearby station where we can get a train to Poiniers Friday morning for our booked TGV trip to Paris at 12.20.

Once again disaster has been snatched from the jaws of smooth sailing. But we are familiar with the ways of disaster and have ways of our own for coping. Sitting in a corner sobbing does wonders to clear the head.

First we need to empty the waste tanks and fill with water. We have been searching for a dump point before Charroux and eventually found one which is signposted as a public WC but should have been marked as a historic medieval site. Although it was almost acceptable as a dump point, most people would prefer to burst rather than use it as a WC.
Murphy's law being as it is, Charroux has a mobile home dump facility. By now we don't need to dump anything but we do need water and ,Murphy's law being as it is, that does not work without 2 euro and the coin slot does not take euros.

We instead go to Civray to buy some groceries and find some water. We find groceries but not water. Finally we call in to a garage/bar (a funny combination which we have seen before in France) and are able to connect to his tap at the back of the building. We offer to pay but he waves suggesting no payment is necessary. Instead we give him our remaining Australian flag and he is overjoyed, waving it to the bar patrons and receiving cheering and whooping in redturn.

We are ready for the night so we return to Mavis and Terry's property for a quiet night.

Thursday 27 October 2011: Charroux , France.

Our penultimate morning in the van is overcast but dry. I take the opportunity to wash it so it look good for our return.

John turns up at close to eleven to tell us that trains to Poitiers are few and far between. Our only choice is an 8.40am service, which is impractical as we are sleeping in the van and have to get it ready for winter. Instead, John may be able to ferry us to Poitiers, a service he offers for a very reasonable price. He needs to check any other committments first so we agree we should visit him at 11.30 for a discussion and tea.
After a bit of packing and tidying, we go to John and enjoy a very nice cup of coffee. John and Carol can take us to Poitiers at 10.30 am tomorrow. This will allow enough time to visit the Prefecture to see what mess the bureaucracy can have made of our paperwork. Assuming the Grand High Poobah signatory has returned from holidays. But that may be part of the mess. Fortunately, our brush with the prepubescent German Border Police was the only encounter with The Plod (European terms for Europe) so we are still driving on expired English plates.

Ro has commented to John that we need to go for a drive to charge the batteries for tonight as we don't have mains power. John and Carol suggest that the Roman Baths at Chassenon, about 50 km away, are worth seeing.

We set off for the baths, retracing the steps we followed yesterday. Had we turned right at Chassenon instead of left, we would have seen them externally. We arrive about 3pm and spend 2 hours looking at the well presented and very interesting site. It is an ongoing work as more archealogical research is done, both physically with digging and also with investigation of documents.

Returning to Charroux at 6pm, we tidy some more and prepare for our last night in the van. We hear the chime of church bells on the hour, something we will miss in Oz.

Friday 28 October 2011:Charroux , France.

A hurried bit of final tidying is our first priority. Not quite. Emptying the toilet for the last time is a bit more pressing. We have to visit the Charroux dump point, not a hive of activity in the town, especially at this time of the morning when it is only just light.

We return to Terry and Mavis's property and carefully move the van to its wintering point. It is a close squeeze through the gates. Then the task of putting a 12 x 10 metre tarp over the van. That achieved, at John's suggestion, I place logs on the bottom to prevent flapping. I had intended tying it on but the log solution is better, quicker and easier.
Our bags are loaded into John and Carol's minivan and we are on our way to Poitiers to catch the TGV to Paris.

We arrive with plenty of time and have coffee and a chocolate croissant then go to platform 2 to board the train which is already there. We want to be sure it is the correct train so check with a lady who speaks perfect english, but only when she has to, she says.
Two hours later we are in Paris. We have decided to walk the 3 km from Montparnasse Gare to our apartment in Beaubourg Les Halles, Arrondissement 4 rather than take a taxi. It proves to be a good decision, if somewhat tiring, as we get our bearings in Paris. Our first icon is the tower thingy which looms at the end of one Rue outside the station. We also walk near the odd palace or two, over the Sein and Notre Dame. That just about covers Paris; now what to do with the rest of the week. Hopefully we will find something.

Our apartment is very central; within 200 metre of Notre Dame. And the space! It is almost 2 1/2 times the floor area of the van! We won't know ourselves. But we are warned that if we have wild parties and any damage results, our secutity bond may be forfeited. The only problem with wild parties would be where to put the guests.

A cup of tea is the first item on the agenda. The second is where to put our cases. Everything is compact. Every bit of space used. And the security is remarkable. There are two pin coded doors from the street and the apartment door has a bolt top and bottom plus FIVE pins into the door jamb. We have been told that Paris is very safe. One wonders what security would be used if it were not safe.

We venture down to the street again. It is certainly a vibrant place. The Pompidou Centre is only a short walk away and we spend some time walking around it and the surrounding buildings and squares. While intereting in concept, it is rather dirty and aesthetically somewhat questionable in my humble opinion. But we have not yet seen inside.

A supermarket on our list of places to visit and in the absence of any Roman or medieval ones, a small shop front one will do. We buy things such as milk, coffee, some breakfast items and some vegetables and eggs in case we want to eat in. By the time we get back, we want to eat in. Our day of travel and lugging of luggage has taken uts toll and we are tired.

It is nice to have a decent sized shower and kitchen and sleep in a queen sized bed.

Saturday 29 October 2011: Paris , France.

We wake refreshed ready for a day of sight seeing. We stride out in the direction of the Louvre watching where we place every step. Just as Avignon is known for its Palais des Papes, we had heard Paris was known for its Poops des Pooches. However the Parisians, or the hygeine department, have cleaned up their (dogs) act and we hardly saw even a Puddle des Poodle. For that matter we saw very few pooches at all.

Arriving at the Louvre, we walked through the main entrance toward the famous glass pyramid. Once in front of the pyramid, the magnitude of the building can be gauged. It is little wonder that the people revolted. Marie Antoinette's one liner about the cake would not have helped. As one walks toward what was the private gardens of the palace, it is hard to believe to what use the buildings could have been put. They continue in a huge U shape with multiple storeys and vast numbers of statues and ornaments. The lagacy to us is phenominal but at what cost to the people of the time.

As we walk through part of the courtyard we are approached by some African men who ask us to sign a petition for peace. While one works on me, the other works on Ro. Before long our signatures on a petition become a donation for innoculation of African children. They request a 20 euro donation but I offer 5 euro and go to Ro's aid who has offered 10 euro. Eventually we part with 10 euro between us, later realising we have been scammed and that we know nothing of where the money is going. We would like to think it goes to charity, but it could be going to buy guns or more likely is going into their pockets. Later in the day, we are presented with two other petitions and one ring on the ground scam, which we manage to ignor. We had been warned about the ring scam but not the petition one. We should have known better but obviously the scammers are professionals and know how to work their unsuspecting victims, which we were....the first time.

We continue down the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe stopping off the beaten track for lunch at a cafe obviously frequented by locals rather than tourists and then walk toward the Tour Eiffel, which is another incredible experience. As one gets closer the tower looms bigger and bigger until one is under the huge structure. It is remarkable that this structure was to be demolished after the 1889 World Exhibition. The change of heart has been to the considerable advantage of later generations. Later today, in the half light we will see the tower with thousands of flashing lights which look like flash bulbs going off at random all over the structure like a giant firework. The long snaking queues to ascend the tower convince us to arrive early one morning before the 9.30 opening time to hopefully minimize waiting.

By now, we have six or seven kilometers and don't fancy the walk back. Instead we go to the Seine and purchase a 5 day hop on hop off boat pass which we use to return to within 200 or so metres of our apartment.

As we return, we note that both our ground floor security doors are open. Hopefully only maintenance people but we feel slight trepidation as we open our door. Our worst fears are realised. The place is trashed. Our cases open and in a mess. The place looks like a bomb has hit. Then we realise it is a we left it. Our 20 square metre apartment suffers from easy mess syndrome. But we can cope.

We have coffee and cake we have bought with the thought to get a 6.25 boat from Hotel De Ville stop and doing a 1 hour 40 minute loop, just catching the last boat from the Tour Eiffel. This will get us back by 8pm when we will have dinner at one of the many cafes around our abode.

Tonight we are far less tired than last so at 6 we walk back to the jetty to catch our boat. It is starting to rain a little but we are protected in the enclosed boat. It has glass sides and roof but the light rain obscures the view slightly. Despite this, when the magical sight of the sparkling tower presents, I cannot help but smile. Ro gets some wonderful images of the tower through the raindrops which we are looking forward to seeing on a bigger screen.

Before we reach our Hotel De Ville jetty, we decide to alight one stop earlier and walk past Notre Dame, now illuminated. As we do so, we see a sign that it is open at 9pm tonight and we assume the crowds will be absent. A quick trip back to the apartment for some waterproof jackets is in order before choosing one of the many cafes nearby for dinner before walking to Notre Dame.

The cafe we choose is a quaint little shop front one with tables outside under an awning. It is still drizzling but warm enough to sit outside. However smokers at an adjacent table drive us indoors where the smoke is less although not absent. Our waitress is attentive helpful and friendly and willingly speaks quite good english. We order a main and dessert each and water, as the white wine I had ordered they do not have.

At 9.15 we walk to Notre Dame where we are disappointed to find the inside lighting is quite dim so we do not see all we had hoped. This is partially because a documentary is being shown on a large screen which can be raised on ropes. We watch the last 10 minutes before the open time is over about 9.45.

Walking back to the apartment there are still hundreds of people in the streets. There is also traffic chaos due to a huge police presence the reason for which we don't know. However we have heard sirens since late afternoon and there are dozens of white police vans and many dozens of police.

We finally get to bed at 12.30 am with the intention of getting up at 7.30 maybe to do some queue skipping.

Sunday 30 October 2011: Paris , France.

Awaking at 7 and immediately turning off the alarm but not getting up, we strike out on both. However we rationalize that after 11 weeks on the move, we can afford to waste some time.

Instead, later in the morning we follow a walking path of the Marais district suggested to us by a friend. There are 30 detailed points taking us to Notre Dame, along the two Seine islands and back toward la Bastille monument. Before we cross the foot bridge from Ile de le Cite on which Notre Dame is located to Ile St Louis we listen to a jazz band and buy one of their CDs. After crossing the footbridge, we pass lovely little shops on Ile St Louis then walk back over the Seine where we see more small squares and fascinating old buildings.

Footsore we return to the apartment, having made it only to number 8, for late lunch intending later to go to Notre Dame for an organ recital at 4.30pm. When we walk to Notre Dame, there is a queue 100 metres long and we wonder how we will get to the recital if we have to queue. However, queues in Paris confuse us. It is normal to see people joining the front of the queue or bypassing it all together and no one seems bothered nor does the reason for some people doing this with impunity seem clear. Unsure how it works we go to the end of the queue, which we discover moves at a reasonable speed so we are inside within 10 or 15 minutes. We discover there is no charge to enter Notre Dame, as with most operating cathedrals, although one is free to donate. This was partially why we were confused about the organ recital and whether we entered the queue or not. We are inside by not much after 4.30, the due start time and fortunately the concert has not started. It does not start until 5.30 which we assume is a french thing. As we have decided to take the last boatbus at 6.20, we leave a bit before the end and head to the Hotel de Ville stop, just in time to see the boat leave. Drat! Instead we go home and have some cheese and biscuits, which turn out to be dinner as we cannot be bothered venturing out again. We have an early night intending to get up early tomorrow. Sound familiar?

Monday 31 October 2011: Paris , France.

But this time we achieve our goal. We are at the chapel Saint Chapelle by 9.15, 15 minutes before opening time. Things are very quiet for 9.15 on a Monday morning on Melbourne standards. However we are again confused as the queue which has already formed is in front of the Palais de Justice. The Saint Chapelle entrance has a barrier across it. We queue with others and enter an area where we go through a security screen like at the County Court in Melbourne. As we pass through the x-ray machine we ask the gendarmes if this is the entrance to Saint Chapel. He rattles off something in french which we don't understand and we continue. As we exit, we ask a second gendarmes if this is....... He answers in English that we can wait in the courtyard until it opens in about half an hour. It is after 9.30 now so we assume it is just another french thing.

After another half hour and no signs of activity, we are getting tired of the french thing. We are also getting cold so wait in a buliding which appears to be a Childrens Court.

Eventually we ask another gendarmes for the time and although he has no watch (probably the only gendarmes in Paris without one) his partner has and we are informed it is 9 am. Now we discover a Rue de Awakening as the penny drops. Summertime finished on Saturday night so yesterday and today we have been an hour early for everything. The french thing was just the end of summertime. We were early for the organ recital, we did not just miss the last boat, the streets were empty because it was an hour earlier than we thought and the Saint Chapelle will not open for another half hour!

When it does open, it is worth the wait. The lower floor has beautiful gilded low vaulted ceilings with dark blue panels with gilded stars between and there are stone sprial stairs to the upper floor. Climbing the now familiar narrow spiral stairs we are rewarded by 15 magnificent stained glass windows 15 metres high and from 1 to 3 metres wide.

Because we are there early, only a few people dribble in for the first 15 or 20 minutes so it is very peaceful. However after an hour, the chapel is crowded with tourists so we take our leave. After spending a few more minutes in the lower area, we make our way back to the apartment for a bit of shopping and some morning tea with patisseries purchased on the street.

A bit later we make our way back to the bateau bus and travel down to the Eiffel Tower to walk in the park below the tower. It is astounding how one keeps looking back at the structure for another glance. Maybe it is because we have seen the icon so often in films and photos and now we are experiencing the real thing. A picture rarely if ever captures the essence of being there.

A few gimmick shots, such as leaning on the tower and holding it between two fingers and we head toward Hotel des Invalides This is a massive hospital and retirement building which once was the home of 6000 soldiers who fought for France in 1700s. The main building has a gilted dome under which Nepoleon's remains are interred, having been moved there 17 years after his death.

There is a cafe where we have lunch before catching the boat to Jardin des Plantes a garden of plants which Ro would like to see as it has many medicinal plants grown there originally for Louis 13th at the instruction of his physicians in 17th century.

Unfortunately we get the stop wrong so have to get the next boat to the correct stop.
It is getting toward closing time so after 30 minutes we are alerted to the closing by security people blowing whistles. Their whistle blowers are a cross between rap dancers and a group of hunters scaring quail.

The crowds take flight and stream toward the gates. We continue back to the boat and travel the one stop to Hotel de Ville where we walk back to the apartment.
A bit of refreshment and we go out for dinner. There are dozens of cafes and restautants to choose from and we select a small restaurant which has a glass enclosed area built on the footpath. A main meal is more than enough for us and we walk the 300 metre back to the apartment in the hope of walking off dinner before bed time.

Tuesday 1 November 2011: Paris , France.

Although yesterday's forecast was for a clear day, today's is for rain. This may dampen our prospects for a full day of activity.

Friday we need to make our way to CDG for our flight to Helsinki and we have decided a metro or RER ride will be acceptable. We still don't know the difference between the two, but we know the line we need, "B", and a discussion with the ticket lady confirms that. We buy two tickets for Friday for 18.80 euro and hope all will be clear when we go to the station on Friday. The trip is about 30 minutes and we are allowing extra time for stuffups. As long as we don't board a train for Poitiers or some other place we should be OK. Later we are further comforted when we discover the train terminates at CDG Terminal 2 which is where we need so what could go wrong? I should point out that that is truely rhetorical at this point as I am writing before the event. What could possibly go wrong?

We emerge from the metro and visit another church which is called St Eustache and is a small version of Notre Dame, although small is not the first word which springs to mind. Why another such massive structure is required less than 1 km from the huge Notre Dame is a mystery. Although it is a fact that Notre Dame was in a very poor state of repair in the 19th century and may well have been considered unusable when little Notre Dame was built. Little Notre Dame is now in a state of disrepair but is very impressive none the less.

Our intention is to visit Musee d' Orsay because of the expected rain, The museum was the main Paris rail station before the metro was built in the 19th century. We board the boat and travel down to the Tour Eiffel, do the U turn and alight at Musee d' Orsay stop.

Unfortunately by now it is raining heavily and others who have had the same thought are queuing in the rain. As that does not appeal, we get the next boat and go back to the apartmrnt to dry off and have some lunch.

After lunch and a rest, as the rain has eased we decide to visit a department store called La Fayette which was started in 1893 and after a successful expansion built a store of 5 floors in 1919 which included a rather magnificent dome built above the fourth floor. Below the dome of probably 50 metre diameter, the four floors each have a circular cutout of the same diameter providing a sort of atrium to the dome. The walk is about 2.5 km and we see the old Paris Opera House along the way and the huge shopping mall which is built below the courtyard of the Louvre.

Returning to the apartment by 6 pm, we decide to eat at home as tomorrow is expected to be the last clear day before we leave and we hope to make the most of it.

Wednesday 2 November 2011: Paris , France.

First activity after breakfast is to walk to St Merri, just around the corner then to Place des Vosges. The streets are deserted at this time, despite our having corrected our clock, and the St Merri visit is short because it is not open.

We continue by foot to Place des Vosges, a square surrounded by 36 houses built by Henri IV in 1612 for silkworkers. Who said the kings were self-centred. Never mind that the Louvre was 20 times bigger for the use of a few royals. The houses are remarkably symmetrical about the square but perhaps no more so than those of the kings shack.Today the area is quite an expensive area. For example, we saw a 140 square meter apartment for 2.5 million euro over near les Invalides making the Louvre quite an expensive piece.
The Picasso museum, a converted mid-17th-century hotel, is nearby so we walk there. Picasso's family used many of his paintings to pay death duties following the death of the famous painter. However when we arrive, there is a sign which says it is closed until 2013 for renovations. The ironical thing is the paintings will tour Sydney from 11th November this year until early next year. Glad we didn't visit France to see them.

From there we walk back to Hotel de Ville to catch the boat to Musee Rodin which is next on our list. A slight problem is that I have misplaced one Batobus ticket. Fortunately the deck hand, who the other day was the skipper, allows us on and during the journey we have a discussion about boat licenses on rivers in France. Did I mention that after we are sick of the camper we have considered getting a boat and touring the rivers? Poop! Poop! , as Toad would have said.

We alight at Musee d' Orsay stop and walk back to the Musee Rodin. It has a two storey 18th century converted hotel as the museum and over 3 hectares of garden. Rodin spent the last 9 years of his life there and gifted his sculptures, art works and letters to the French state.

Although I knew of Rodin as a sculptor, I did not know how talented he was. Lookng at his sculptures, the reality of the faces and bodies is astounding. On submitting one work to an art exhibition, he was accused of casting his sculpture rather than sculpting it.

The gardens have numbers of his sculptures among manicured garden beds and tree lined paths. As the autumn leaves are now falling, the carpet of gold is striking.
We take the boat back to Notre Dame where we intend looking at the church, St Louis, on Ile St Louis. We walk over the bridge to Ile de Cite then over to Ile St Louis. A Dixieland jazz band is busking on the pavement between the merde (yes, we did find some ) and we enjoy listening as we cross the bridge.

The church is the one we passed last Sunday during our Marais walk. This time we enter the church although it is geting dark so we cannot fully appreciate the gilt walls and the stained-glass windows. However we have seen a lot of churches and if we don't fully appreciate this one, we may not be very much worse off.

Walking back to the apartment for cheese and biscuits, we plan where we will eat. However, the comfort of sitting down without shoes is seductive so we end up skipping dinner.
But what to do tomorrow as it is expected to be wet? We will see.

Thursday 3 November 2011: Paris , France.

It is wet. We think that a visit to the Pompidou may be the best choice as it is close by and we won't be exposed to rain for too long. We walk there without the need for an umbrella. However there is not anything happening so after circling the building we move further afield down to a section of covered galleries near the Louvre. The galleries are in a state of poor repair but it is like stepping back to 19th century, albeit not in new condition. The most interesting shop we saw was the equivalent of an op shop which had women's clothing from various periods going back to the 1970s. There were outfits by famous names such as YSL, Chanel, Dior and others. As we return to Rue de Rivoli, the main street back to our apartment, we see a shop with many windows devoted to scale model figures of all types. They range from 50 mm high to 200 mm high and with varying degrees of detail, the most intricate being quite exquisite. Along with soldiers, there are mounted medieval nights and footmen, Roman figures, some in Roman baths, and even some half dressed girls, the dressed half of whom suggested they were chorus girls or prostitutes. There were also model buildings etc. The number of models is amazing and how this shop and others earn their keep even more amazing.

By now it is raining quite heavily and our umbrella is all that comes between us and a drenching. This is a task it struggles to fulfil as its ribs are worse for the ware. When folding it up, it is reminescent of a bird with a broken wing. When extended, the similarity becomes greater. Fortunately a significant amount of the way is covered so we get back to our apartment without needing a complete change of clothing. Never the less the sightseeing is less pleasant and more limited.

In the rain, we are even more taken by the interaction between vehicles, pedestrian and traffic lights. The pedestrian walk/don't walk signs are more in the vein of 'un petit suggestion' which the viewers of the sign may care to consider. A green figure means a pedestrian may cross with impunity. Unless a vehicle would prefer not to give way, in which case the winner is the one who bluffs best. The same occurs if a vehicle has a green light and a pedestrian is crossing against the red. One woman crossed against the red figure and a police car waited patiently until she was clear without any indication that what she did was against any law.

However the seeming impunity which motorists face against being booked when parked across pedestrian crossings, blocking lanes or seemingly parking anywhere does have its limits. I saw a vehicle being booked where a building skip blocked the side of the road and the vehicle did not exacerbate the obstruction. It was a female officer who may have been leaving her name and address for a cute driver she had observed earlier. Ah le French.
We have taken some sandwiches and salad back to our apartment which we appreciate as a place for recouperation after the large amount of walking which we do each day. After a break, we decide to visit the house where Chopin lived.

The rain has decreased to a misty drizzle allowing us to remain dry as we walk back to the Louvre. We plan to eat out as this is our last night in Paris and in fact almost the last night of our odyssey.

We walk back to a square, Place Vendome, where there is a large monument built by Nepoleon from melting down some 100s of cannon captured from his enemies. It is probably 30 metre hign and 1.5 to 2 metre diameter and decorated in a manner similar to cannon of that period. On top is a statue of Nepoleon. No wilting flower was Nepoleon.

The house in which Chopin lived and died for the last three months of his life is marked but is now a shop selling very expensive jewellery. The Ritz Hotel is just over the way. We spend some time looking in the windows and dodging the rain drops as it is raining again.

After returning to the apartment again to dry off, we venture downstairs to a lovely little restaurant nearby for a good meal at an exceptional price.

After dinner, as it is still drizzling, we take a few night photos and return to the apartment to start packing as we must vacate by 9.30 am tomorrow morning.

Friday 4 November 2011: Paris , France.

We have set the alarm for 7 am as we have done each morning. The slight difference is that this time we get up.

Since thinking the apartment had been trashed, we have completed the job properly. Now we have to disprove the 1st law of thermodynamics regarding increase in entropy and somehow create order from the disarray. Creating order by stuffing everything into our bags seems achievable. Finding anything until we unpack seems unlikely.

Now is also the time to find out if our remaining euros will be spent on excess baggage. We have brought a digital weigher to maximize our hold luggage while keeping our hand luggage to a level commensurate with the number and strength of hands available, to wit, 4. Our first itteration has the digital scale shutting down. But gradually we get our 24 kg per person correct and our hand luggage to an acceptable level.

We leave by 9.15 and have to walk 600 metre to the place we can leave our bags until 2pm when we will take the RER train to CDG Terminal 2 for our flight to Helsinki.

Our intention via a sunny walk along the Seine was to visit l'Orangerie, a museum in the Tuileries, the gardens attached to the Louvre. Here are exhibited many of Monet's paintings, an artist of whom we are particularly fond. However this does not open until 12.30 which we think we not give us enough time. Instead we visit Musee d'Orsay where there are works by the Impressionists, including Monet, and van Gough, another favourite. This museum opens at 9.30 which will give us a bit extra time. Even so, there are 3 or 4 levels of paintings which we will not be able to cover adequately.

A queue outside the museum clears within 10 or so minutes and we go to level 5 to look at the Impressionists. Just as the Picasso exhibition is going to Australia, the Impressionists were in Canberra a year or two ago while Musee d'Orsay was being renovated. Seems we didn't really need to come to France. But since we did, we will make the most of it.

The building itself is interesting. It was a railway station until 1939 when it ceased to be used and over time fell into disrepair. At one point it was to be demolished however the French Government decided to renovate it as a museum. The most recent renovation was to update it and that was when the paintings toured various countries.

We spend a few hours looking at the Impressionists, including Sisley, Degar, Cezan and Monet. Many of the paintings we did not see in Canberra and those we did are good to see again. About 1.45 we dash through the van Gough section as we must leave by 2.15. Thirty minutes for van Gough is a bit dismissive, but the plane won't wait.

We walk back for our luggage then walk to the RER station. What could go wrong I had rhetorically asked. We could loose the station, that is what could go wrong. And do for a short time mainly because of another little french quirk that the name of the station below ground is different from that signposted above ground. But we find the platform with relatively little fuss, board the correct train and get out at the correct stop.

Admittedly our stop is the last place the train stops so we would have had problems getting that wrong.

The Beginning : Travelling to Europe

marfee7 — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 17:58:00 GMT

14 March 2011 : Melbourne, Australia

Finally we have booked our tickets. We fly to Singapore on 12 August leaving Jacinta in residence to keep Bella, our watchdog, company. Watchdogs still get lonely. We spend three nights there. Have not booked anywhere there yet. Then on 15 August we fly to Helsinki and stay there one night. If we like it there we may stay longer next year when we expect to return. Then on 17th we fly to Paris for 1 week before picking up our motorhome in Charroux. That is all for now.

It is July now. Things have changed a bit. Our 11 weeks of freeform travel have reduced to 6. We now visit Paris at the end rather than the beginning. And our expectation to spend most of out time in France has now become 3 weeks in France if we are lucky... Why is that? You probably don't care but we may like to remember why in years to come. The change came about because we saw a cruise available down the Croatian coast through a chance viewing of an article in a magazine. So we decided to move our Paris stay to the end and instead drive in our little motorhome to Croatia. We have 8 days tgo get there which means a (hopefully) leisurely 250 km drive each day.

Now, this is a leisurely drive in Oz but may or may not prove to be leisurely in Europe. We travel from CDG by TGV the day after we arrive then stay in Charroux for two nights when we hope to fix a couple of minor faults in the motorhome. And fit a reversing camera. And fit an alarm system. Then we drive to Clarmont-Ferrand where we stay the night in a nearby camping site. Next night Geneva. The question is... how much sight seeing can we do and still cover the 250k? That remains to be seen. Maybe we just note where we want to revisit. After Geneva we stay one night at Zurich. We have some friends in Cairns who fortuitously will be visiting friends there when we pass through. So we intend to have coffee with them in Zurich. They also visit their family in Melbourne but we will catch up with them in Switzerland. Maybe that is what the carbon tax is for. If the embedded carbon is taxed on the coffee, we may skip the drinks. After Zurich, we drive to Innsbruck then next day to Villach, both in Austria. Brings new meaning to the quip "if today is Wednesday, this must be Austria". Then down to Slovenia to stay at Lublijana before continuing to Rovinj, Croatia prior to our departure from Opatija.

We spend 7 nights on a 10 cabin boat exploring the Croatian coast before returning early September. We are meeting Felix, who was an exchange student with us 15 years ago, in Bonn in early October so we have our first unplanned 3 weeks to fill in around Italy and Germany.

After a few days with Felix in Germany, we have our second 3 free weeks to return to France and maybe venture down to Spain. Then Paris and home.

So next addition will probably be from Singapore.

Friday 12 August 2011 : Tullamarine (Melbourne Airport), Australia

Well, here it is the 12the August and I said I would write again from Singapore, but there are a few interesting things which happen on the way......

We arrive at the airport about 1 pm for our Qantas flight at 3.30 pm, thanks to the generosity of Scot. He was going to pick up the trailer anyway which was handy as we had not actually realised that a trailer was nearly necessary for our two oversized bags. The irony is, we bought them because they squash flat for storage in our van, without realising that the van could nearly fit inside either one anyway. The wheels on the bags may come in handy if we get a flat in the van. We arrive at the airport and opt not to use any escort vehicle as we tow our bags to our very first queue at checkin. As we stand there, Judy, my sister joins us and we enjoy 20 minutes of idle chat. Well idle apart from shuffling backwards periodically down the queue. We finally arrive at the head of the queue and are ushered to a checkin bloke. As I suffer from borderline techno nerd syndrome, I had stuffed my bag with wires, a multimeter, smoke detector, burglar alarm, inverter, a reversing camera and all the other regular stuff one takes on a holiday (did I mention tooth brush as well... oh no I forgot that...and clothes....but that's another story) Just in case security does not view that as quite the regular stuff I do, I mention to the checkin bloke that I have a few electronic things in my bag and would that be OK. It may be my nervous eye twitch, but he asks a few questions. Is it a standard packaged burglar alarm? I explain that it is not wrapped because I have coupled the sinusoidal output of the piezo buzzer to a bridge rectifier and run that into an optocoupler which opeates a relay controlling a 12volt piezo buzzer. I am just about to explain how I used a capacitor to....... when Scot digs me in the ribs and suggests I shut up. But I think I should mention the smoke detector which, in answer to the checkin bloke's question, does not contain any mercury but does contain a small amount of radioactive Americonium (I don't even know how to pronounce it, let alone how to spell it). Maybe it is my mumbling of the fissionable material's name, but the checkin bloke feels he should call downstairs to check. Meanwhile we have created our own true European Queue and we are savouring being at the head of it!!

The guys downstairs do not answer so our checkin bloke goes for a wander to get someone. Back comes a security chick and we open the bag. I venture into the abyss (with a safety line for security in case I get lost). A moment or two later I return with the two offending items. After a look of admiration that I have emerged unscathed, she inspects the alarm and notes it has a battery. I point out that it is a capacitor and not a battery, and in that instant I see my chance to explain the difficulties I had in determining the appropriate current limiting resistor. My explanation is cut short by a dig in the ribs by Scot and I shut up again. Now we get to the smoke detector. Despite Scot and I having discussed whether it emitted alpha, beta or gamma rays, it very quickly transpires that the security people are happy to xray our stuff with gay abandon but don't like being x-rayed back. A case of double standards if ever I heard one. So Scot takes the smoke detector, we rezip the bag and complete check in, the checkin guy ignoring the fact that the bag is 1.5 kg over, presumably in the interests of not having to erect more barricades for the lengthening queue.

Off we go to have some lunch, having burned an hour in the checkin queue. During lunch,Scot does some role playing with me on how to answer security questions. This involves him using a vaguely Indian accent (to simulate accents I may find worldwide) to ask questions to which I have to answer one word or be failed in the test.
After lunch we proceed to the landside/airside doors and take a few pics. We take one with Judy, Ro and I and one with Scot Ro and I. The second is our first Judy free transaction for our trip. We wave goodbuy, Ro has the obligatory tear (but only one) and after a quick discussion as to the psychological reasons that one cries at such events we proceed to immigration. But not before I am checked for explosives. Something about me attracts these guys. It is supposed to be a random search. Well I can only assume I look pretty random because they always choose me. Still we have an interesting chat about how the checker's mother is in Birmingham and how she is having a riotous time during the unrest in London. We part with a cheery "See you next time...." which may be a clue.

We trundle to the gate lounge, pleased to be free of our gargantuan bags. Ro is even happier as I am lugging both our pieces of hand luggage which combined are pretty weighty themselves.

We are travelling on an A380, which is a BIG plane.With all our fiddling about, we do not have a long wait until the aircraft is lumbering down the tarmac before gracefully launching into the air.

Entertainment is wonderful. I have driven to Sydney and back with Abba or Katie Melour (can't spell her name either and she is not an element) so I am pleased to find Nora Jones, another favourite, on the play list. The 8 hours flew by (a good thing, really). There are heaps of movies and we watch two or three. Between movies, we walk up and down aisles and spent many a pleasant half hour in the queue for the toilet. As we listen to the flush of the previous client we lament the fact that they don't supply ear plugs for use during the flush. Nor do they insist passengers standing before flushing, resulting in our mild surprise that on every occasion someone emerges without having been sucked into the storage tanks. Mind you, very few small people disembarked and I did not monitor how many embarked.

For exercise, the designers of the A380 very thoughtfully provided a spiral staircase at the rear of the plane. We use that to good advantage for a little aerobic exercise. We frequently walk to the rear of the plane to get this exercise. Maybe too frequently as passengers start to ask us for drinks and snacks. Next time remind me not to dress like a steward.

We have the obligatory pair of Singaporean gay stewards, one of whom we seem to disenfranchise by asking for a cup of hot chocolate. We learned recently that holding eye contact for more than 3 second with a gay is a come hither signal, so I limit glances to 1.3 seconds to allow a safety factor. We suspect they are disenfranchised because on two or three occasions, goodies are brought tantalisingly close only to have the providers disappear when they reach our row. On one such occasion, the treat was apples. We attracted our steward's attention but he just tipped the bowl upside down to indicate it was empty. This was somewhat redundant as the bowl was clear plastic. As he skips away we thought we would take matters into our own hands. We had noticed near our spiral staircase there was a Snack Bar for passenger use which included apples. So I sprint (with respect to the ground, not the aisle) to the rear of the plane (actually those astute readers will note that I sprinted back with respect to the ground but didn't even get there wrt the ground) and grab two apples then returned to my seat. Our gay steward returns with two apples and observes our apples. He says in an admonishing tone "Oh, you have got some apples", stamps his foot and takes off, resisting my attempts to grab his half-proffered apples.

But our wrestling results in my getting one of the two. On landing, an apple dropped by the same attendant rolls down the aisle, not unlike a Jaffa in theatres of old. Presumable dropped during a scuffle with another strong willed passenger.

We land, negotiate a queue or two at immigration and find a taxi, but not before lugging our bags back and forth to try to find the appropriate means of transport. This is eventually a taxi, the boot of which is too small to take both bags.....there seems to be a theme running here. However, Ro and one bag are very comfortable in the back seat.

The taxi takes us to our hotel for an absurdly low price (S$20 ((A$18))) where a porter grabs our bags before letting me load them onto his trolley...one on top of the other so the trolley will fit in the lift. We take the next lift with me carrying the hand luggage so as not to destroy the trolley or overload the lift. The porter manoeuvers our bags into the room and between pants gratefully accepts the S$2 tip I give him (the "Cheap bastard" mutter barely audible). Now, after a good night's sleep, here we are........ The journey continues.

Saturday 13th August 2011 : Singapore

We awake the next day to oppressive heat (outside the building fortunately) and go for a swim after fiddling on the internet to get our comms (tekkie talk) working. We are supposed to have a USB internet connection purchased from Austria, but having been lost in the German postal system then having been nearly sent back to Austria in France, it is supposedly waiting for us at Charroux. Instead the 'otel (practicing my French) stings us to use theirs.

The swim is lovely; the water warm and the sun wonderful. It is about lunch time by now so we think we better get going. We go to the lobby and ask directions to Orchard Rd, too far to walk from the hotel (enough of this French stuff for the time being). A bus number 123 will do the trick. But we do not allow for dissuading eager taxi drivers. As we walk down the front drive a taxi pulls in and asks us "Where to..." or the equivalent in Indian obsequious-speak. Thankyou, no is our reply....we want to take the bus. We proceed to the bus stop but the taxi, undeterred cruises the drive and bus shelter, stopping to offer increasingly lower fares to Orchard Rd. We explain we want to soak up the culture on the bus (well known as a cultural experience by us street people) and after offering a fare of S$3 he finally goes to look for another victim...er customer.

We wait for a bus or two....or three and no 123 bus. But along comes an open top double decker hop on hop off bus, the conductor type person of which has an eye for a tourist. Despite our careful disguises of camera, thightly clasped wallets and bags shorts teashirts etc, she see through it and the bus pulls in with her hanging out the door extolling the virtues of this wonderous bus......which still looks just like a tourist bus to us. But no...it is the best tourist bus in Singapore and can be used for the whole day for only S$19.90. No matter that there is less than half the day left. But it looks like just what we want so we climb aboard. And it is just what we want. How could we compare S$3 to get to Orchid Rd with $S40(S$19.90 + S$19.90 = S$40 in Singapore) and not be thrilled. We climb onto the open top bus and the breeze of the bus provides some sensible cooling against the heat and humidity. We are informed that Singapore has two types of weather: hot ..... and very hot. But interestingly, the frequent showers are extremely localised and clouds form and dissipate with remarkable rapidity. There can also be some remarkable cool patches between hot spots.

First trip is a circuit of the city. Sky scrapers abound, with quite eclectic and interesting architecture. A blend of new and old is evident, with old ranging from the iconic Raffles Hotel to quintessentially Singaporean shuttered tropical climate buildings in the Chinatown area. The older areas have a lot more character as opposed to the new buildings, which, except for the population ethnicity and density, could be any Australian city.

We stop at the terminus and supp of the local cuisine in a quintessentially global Subway..... that’s 'cos the bus is leaving soon! The terminus is at the Singapore Flyer which is the largest observation wheel in the world. It is 165 metres in diameter. The London Eye is the second highest.

We choose to stay on the bus for a full circuit sitting outside in the hot humid air. The view is excellent and we marvel at the Singapore skyline and incredible infrastructure, with its efficient roads, public transport and amazing sky scrapers. Unfortunately, not only are offices sky scrapers, but apartments are also and one sees building after building with boxes, presumably of varying size and luxury (or otherwise). Some show signs of ageing but most look presentable from the outside. Singapore is renowned as being clean and safe and that is our observation. After returning to the terminus, we complete another circuit but stop at the Singapore Botanical Gardens where we spend a few delightful hours, including time in the National Orchid Garden. Once again, nothing is out of place. Even some palm fronds which have died and fallen off the trees are tied up in pink string to keep them neat until they are picked up by one of the park vehicles.

There seems to be a national pride in keeping everything neat and tidy. A joy to experience. It is also an interesting juxtaposition to see the man made city minimally embellished with nature against the gardens where nature is minimally embellished with man's creation. Within the gardens, the city seems far away.

After leaving the gardens we get the last bus back to the terminal where we eat at a traditional food hall popular with the locals. That is more like it! For the princely sum of S$8 we have chicken with rice, chicken soup and a side serving of bok choy which a delicious dressing. Followed up by 4 scoops of ice cream for S$3!!

Fortunately there is a late last bus at 7.30pm which takes us to the stop outside our hotel door. We speak with one of the bus conductors about tickets for the Singapore Flyer and she says if we got on "her bus" tomorrow she will get us discount tickets for S$22 for a half hour ride on the wheel.

So off to bed with the idea of waking up at 7.00 am for a swim.

Sunday 14th August 2011 : Singapore

And that we do. The pool is beautifully warm, however I think I will try the spa before another swim. Big mistake. The spa is much colder than the pool. Maybe their plumbing is back to front. Once again the pool and surrounds are immaculate. There is one leaf which should not be there but I am sure it will be removed within a short period of time.
We catch the 9.15 bus to Orchard Rd to find a light breakfast. Having asked at a TGI Fridays outlet what breakfasts they have, we look further, including calling into a camera outlet to get a power converter plug for S$8. However I also ask about mobile handsets as mine had died in Melbourne. We are shown an LG handset which starts at S$240 which supposedly was 60% off and gradually reduces to S$160. We decide to go back to TGI and think about it over breakfast. The girl had told us that there was fruit available for S$4 + +, the + + meaning "plus taxes" and two eggs for S$4.90 + + plus S$1 (+ +) for coffee or tea and juice. So that seems OK. We sit at a table and speak with another waiter who says they no longer offer fruit but would we like juice? So we get the juice (including a large amount of ice thereby minimizing the juice). We comment that we have been told fruit is available for S$4. The waiter disappears, returning after going up stairs to say fruit is available for S$5.90 ++. Annoyed at the changing story and price we say skip the fruit and we will have the eggs and coffee or tea. By this time, the original girl is seen walking away. After a confused discussion as to what is included, the waiter asks what juice do we want with the eggs. We pointed out we had just had juice. Oh no sir, that juice was S$5.90 + + not the small juice which comes with the eggs. That is ridiculous says I to the waiter. The eggs, coffee and juice is S$5.90 (++) but the teaspoon of juice with ice is also S$5.90 + +? Things are expensive in Singapore , sir , says the waiter. I had a complete dinner and soup for S$5.00 without a plus in sight last night says I, uncharacteristically starting to lose my cool. I will go and check says the waiter disappearing up the stairs again. Five minutes passes. I enquire of another waiter where his colleagues may have gone. He shruggs. Our waiter returns offering us fruit free of charge. Unfortunately, by then we are unhappy customers and wanted our bill. Our waiter disappears up the stairs again later to be replaced by the girl with a bill for S$13.90 for 2 juices. Not a significant amount of money but very aggravating so we pay and leave instead getting eggs, toast and coffee for S$6.50 including taxes etc elsewhere!

We walk around a bit and ask about LG handsets, which no one else seems to have. This includes looking through one shopping mall full of wall to wall locals spread over six levels of hole-in-the-wall shops with inanimate attendants waiting to pounce on anyone looking in any way interested in their merchandise.

Finally we decide to return to buy the phone. I offer S$140 and the attendant offered S$150 which I accept. Ah, I thought, a fool and his money are soon parted. Portentious but wrongly directed! Not being a " babe in the woods", I proceed to perform "Due Diligence" before handing over the money. I recall I performed "Due Diligence" in Fiji many years ago when buying a hair dryer. I had required the proprietor then to run the dryer on high and low heat to show its operation. He ran it for 5 seconds on each, satisfying my test. Unfortunately in Australia I determined the dryer was 110v on high could only be run for 8 seconds before burning out. Having learnt from that experience, I thought this little black duck won't get caught again!! Due diligence on a phone with no SIM fitted, inadequate instruction book, no packaging and no documentation can't be too hard. It later proved to be neither hard nor diligent.

We continue on our way with Ro looking for clothing shops, confident in our ability to spot a fake. In the ongoing saga with our bags, Ro had the brilliant idea to insert blow up bags to prevent clothes moving about in our cavernous vessels. So it is indeed fortuitous that I see a "Mr Condom" shop. There should be some blowup something there. However, after some examination of the shop's wares, I determine that their blowup products are either too big or too small to serve the required purpose. Besides, if we have to open our bags at customs, there might be some embarrassment afforded. In Ro's clothing searches, she decides against the genuine Eves St Laurent shorts for S$3.50.
We hop on the bus again, running back from the stop where the bus was not going to stop to the one where it is just closing its doors. We and returned to the terminus where we discover there was another bus route included in our all day hop on hop off. However, by now Ro is starting to melt in the heat so hopping on and staying there in the air conditioned interior of the bus is appealing while I ride on the top open deck as I am more of a hot weather lover than is Ro.

Our hop on hop off deal includes a "bum boat" ride along Singapore River so we alight the bus at the Merlion, which is a monument in the shape of a lion head on a mermaid torso. Singapur is Sandskrit for lion mermaid and this monument celebrates this. The bumboat is a beautiful boat with polished timber and glass and electric drives so very quiet. It was historically used in early 1900s to ferry people along the river. The view is most worthwhile and we enjoy the half hour cruise with a commentary which is clear and understandable, unlike the commentary on our HOHO bus which includes commentary such as "Orchard Road is a main road in Singapore called Orchard Road". We are enlightened by many such comments.

After our river cruise, we return to the terminus and discover yet another bus route which takes us to Sentosa island where there is a casino and Universal Studios theme park. The trip takes us by the Singapore container handling area. If the city is amazing in infrastructure, the container handling area is equally so. Container after container crane is lined up with trucks constantly moving in and out. And today is Sunday. This was another observation: people work on infrastructure night times, weekends and presumably any other time also. I understand the container wharf is the busiest world wide with many ships anchored in the harbour waiting to be unloaded.

We continue past Universal Studios observing the cable cars hanging high above the harbour as they pass from the main island to Sentosa, and down into the casino car park built under the main complex. It seemingly goes for kilometers. The main bus route passes through the car park and seemed to go on and on. Most of the car places are empty. This may partially be due to the fact locals must pay S$100 per day to use the casino whereas foreigners are free. This is the system the government uses to control gambling as a social problem.

The bus returns us to the terminus where we intend to wait until dark which is when we have booked a Singapore Flyer ride. We have a couple of hours to kill until it gets dark so find an airconditioned area and enjoy a few scoops of icecream, returning to the Flyer complex some time later to enter an exhibition celebrating the building of the Flyer, completed in 2008. There are interactive displays which unfortunately do not seem to interact with us. It is more like using a Ouija board. But we do learn some interesting things, such as the fact that the catching net under the load area of the wheel can arrest the fall of 2 elephants dropped from two storeys. The trialling of this aspect is missing from the interactive videos.

The ride takes about 30 minutes. Each pod holds up to 20 people and there are 30 pods. At $30/person,a full revolution of the wheel would return S$18,000 or S$36000 per hour if full. That would help pay for it. The views are spectacular. Likewise the engineering which created it.

After the ride we decide to go to a better spot to catch a taxi back as the HOHO buses have stopped at 7.30. We walk over the river toward the Marina Bay Sands complex, which includes the massive triple tower hotel with the huge boat like structure on top. The structure on top is called Sky Park and may be accessed for S$20 for non house guests.. There is also a magnificent swimming pool which is only for guests. Rooms start at S$450 per night. We do not have time to visit the Sky Park but the view is said to be spectacular. Viewing it from the top of the Singapore Flyer shows that the Sky Park is probably 1/3 again higher.

We walk around the complex which is associated with the hotel, marvelling at the size of everything. The open spaces are absolutely huge. The carbon footprint of the building construction and power usage must be at least that of a yetti. We had asked a few locals how electricity is generated in Singapore and, after strange looks and shruggs of shoulders, determined that a significant amount is imported from Malaysia as is water.

Tired and foot sore, we return to our hotel by taxi and sleep well after our 12 hours of sightseeing.

Monday 15th August 2011 : Singapore

The day dawns overcast but still hot, hot, hot. We have a swim then go down for a continental breakfast, which is pleasant.

Next on the agenda is a trip back to the phone shop(why are you not surprised to read that?). Overnight, the display indicated "Charging" but that was not actually the case. As our HOHO bus is no longer amused by our out of date tickets ( as Red Symons would say "Oh sides do not split") we decide to take the bus back to Orchard Rd. Having tripped around Singapore for a day or two, we are now confident we can navigate without problem. We wait for 10 minutes for a bus and climb aboard confidently offering our S$3 for the trip to Orchard Rd. Wrong way we are told. Bus stop other side. So we alight, cross the road and wait another 10 minutes for a bus in the right direction. The bus actually drops us near Orchard Rd so we walk about finding our bearings. Perhaps next visit we will get it right. At the shop the attendant diagnoses the problem as a bad battery and gives us a Nokia battery to replace it. All is fine again. So we go to find a WiFi area to perform more "Due Diligence" and have a cup of coffee. The trick is, to use free WiFi, we needed a Singapore telephone number for them to SMS us a password. Ho Hum. Eventually we get free WiFi at Starbucks (number 2 as Starbucks Number 1 also needs a Singapore number) But we are pleased to have to find Starbucks as it requires exploring some of the kilometers of underground malls etc. They really are extraordinary and most impressive. But hiking boots are essential. Don't actually get the phone to whistle "Dixi" but the coffee is nice.

We walk down Orchard Rd to get the underground from Dhoby Ghaut station to Chinatown. As with everything else, the MRT system is remarkable and efficient. We go subterrain from Orchard Rd to the station to negotiate with the ticket machine for a ticket. A helpful local ( all locals we encountered are polite and helpful) who is waiting to buy a ticket behind us guides us through the system. Select a Single ticket on the touch screen. Press the station to which you wish to travel on the new display, insert coins or notes or credit card, remove magnetically coded card. S$1 will be refunded when the card is returned at the destination. Naturally, local users can recharge magnetic cards there also. It looks like the system Melbourne should have had. Enter the turnstyles by presenting the card. Take the escalator to the platform and wait a minute or two for the train. However, the platform is not an open platform. It is a space enclosed by walls either side with electronic doors which open when the train is present and close before the train moves off. Highly organised, highly efficient, clean, cheap and electronic signage is excellent. We alight at Chinatown where we swipe our card to exit and retrieve our deposit.

After walking around the area and visiting a Chinese department store, we take a taxi to the Sands Marina Bay. The number of taxis is astounding. For S$4.80 we are delivered to the hotel where we walk around the three towers with our jaws rubbing along the floor. Naturally there is an attendant following with a broom to polish any footprints (or jawprints) we might leave (just kidding... it was probably an army of attendants just after we were out of sight).

We take a taxi to the iconic Raffles Hotel and spend an hour looking about. It is far more extensive than I realised and is a reminder of those gracious times. However, just as we marvel at the size and engineering in the Sands Marina Bay, probably others marvelled at the size and engineering involved in Raffles in its heyday.

About 6.00 pm we return to Miramar with the intention of using their Guest Suite facilities. However despite one saying Male and one Female, the two rooms seemed to be occupied by other couples or families. So we seek other change areas. Eventallly, having rejected the idea of using the lift and going up and down for five minutes while changing, I opt for one of the few male toilets which was not being cleaned at that moment.
We take a taxi driven by a friendly, if rather repetitive, local to the airport to wait for our 11.30 pm flight to Helsinki. After numerous screenings (I didn't declare any bag contents this time since I thought my explanation to a non-English speaker may have been even more disasterous than my Melbourne departure) we board our flight and spent a delightful 12 hours in a cramped box hurtling through the air to arrive at 6.20 am local time refreshed and ready to spend another 12 hours sightseeing. Yeah....right.

Tuesday 16th August 2011 : Helsinki , Finland

We take a taxi to arrive at our hotel where we intend leaving our bags until our room is ready, which we find out will be 3 pm. There may be something ready by lunchtime we are informed.

Fortuitously there is a tram outside the hotel which can take us to the Market Place, a must see in Helsinki. We board the tram and approach the driver with 10 euro ready. I ask for two tickets to the market place. Without a trace of an accent, in perfect English, he says "I don't speak English". Being overwhelmed by his lingual excellence, I start to ask him if he can indicate where to get off. His expression tells me he had said as much English as he is going to. But he does relieve us of 5 euro for two tickets. But two tickets exactly to where?

So we take off at great pace into the unknown. We note our tickets were purchased a t 8:19am and had a designation of todays date and 9:19 . Presumably means we can use the ticket within the next hour. However, one tram stop has 9:20 painted on it so we wonder if that means route 9 stop 20 and that stop 9:19 is comming up. Not so. So to avoid a fine for an incorrect ticket, we hop off.

We look at our tourist map, try to fathom some unpronouncible Finnish street names (dozens of double letters and umlauts but very few clues) throw the map away and followed the tram line. We reach the water and, seeing some stalls starting to appear, assume we are at the market place. We call into a refurbished building a bit like the Meat Market in North Melbourne (no not that sort of meat market) and enjoy the atmosphere created by two long aisles of stalls either side. We stop at one for coffee and speak with the attendant who speaks English due to having spent 4 years in Sydney. She says most younger people speak English with varying degrees of proficiency, so next time we will only take trams driven by young people.

After coffee, as our tram trip had been quite short, and it is too misty and damp to continue sightseeing, we decide to walk back to the hotel to try for early checkin. We retrace our steps and arrive back within about 15 mins at about 10am. As a backstop, we consider ourselves fortunate to have a Garmin GPS with us. Unfortunately it knows less about where we were than we do. To check it, l let it find the satallites then put in a GoTo our hotel in pedestrian mode. Despite the fact we can see the hotel, Garmin can't calculate how to get there. I could throw the GPS to the hotel........ and probably should. It is always a bad sign when your GPS comes up with a screen message "Excuse me, can you direct me to my hotel?". Maybe I inadvertently picked up a translator instead of the GPS.

At the hotel, the attendant confirms that a room will be available between 12 and 3 so we decide to wait a while. At 12.15 we tire of waiting so put our bags back in the storeroom and venture back to the market place where we had made enquiries earlier about a boat trip to the island fortress nearby. This is aslo a must see we have read.

The 6.5 euro trip takes about 15 minutes. There is a group of small islands, a few of which have had forts etc added to them from mid 1700 onward. The buildings and implacements are very extensive and in 1991 received world heritage listing. One could spend a day easily exploring the various buildings. Once again, in their time, the engineering would have been impressive. Pity man puts so much effort into items which are designed to destroy other men's efforts. Twas ever thus. By now, the mistiness had abated and the afternoon, though cloudy, is pleasant.

We return about 6, walked back to the hotel and eat in the hotel restaurant. After a lovely meal we get an early night.

Wednesday 17th August 2011 : Helsinki , Finland

We wake up early on Wednesday morning intending to have a swim. But there is no swimming pool. A major impediment. But there is a sauna which is always hot. As there are two segragated saunas, we part for our separate saunas. A little later we emerge simultaneously and change to go for breakfast, a veritable feast.

We have to get our flight to Paris by 4pm and need to vacate our room by 12 so we spend a leisurely morning resting and blogging (don't miss the 'l'.... the feast was partaken of judiciously).

We have a c ouple of hours available so, having discovered the 1 hour ticket, we hop on a tram with the idea of doing a circuit. The driver this time does speak English, although he says his Swedish is better. Pity, since neither my Finnish nor Swedish is much chop, and I only know the English version of ABBA songs ("Can you hear the tram Fernando?"). We purchase two tickets and start our Mystery Tour. After a few km, it occurrs to me that a circuit may be rather long. I checked with the driver and he says it is two hours. Oops! So we alight and walk through a nearby park. We also negotiate a subway to compare train stations, but Helsinki is more like Melbourne in that platforms are still open. We return to the tram route and look for a number 6 to take us back to the hotel before our 1 hour runs out. Problem is, which direction to the hotel? Fortunately we have a map and with just a little pointing and gesticulating, we determine that, just like in Singapore, we are about to go in the wrong direction. But we also discover what yesterday's 9:18 meant!! Each tram route has an electronic sign which shows the time for the next tram:And the one after that. 9:18 means next tram is in 9 minutes and the following is in 18 minutes. Now all we need to work out is why the 9:18 we saw yesterday we remember as having been painted!!!

Back to the hotel where we empty the storeroom of our baggage, in the process causing other guests to wonder if the hotel is closing down. We get a taxi outside and are ferried to the airport for 41 euros by a very friendly, English speaking cabbie.

Now for Paris.........

We checkin our baggage, go through security with innumerable trays of goods and make our way to the gate lounge. We have about an hour to boarding. Eventually the queue forms to board the plane and Ro decides she might visit the toilet. She does so as the queue shortens as passengers board the plane. We pick up our hand (foot and neck) luggage and prepare to board. " Where are our coats?" asks Ro. We look at one another trying to remember where we had them last. At security! What to do? Nothing for it but to retrace 400 metres back to security. Running as fast as conditions permit, weaving through crowded corridores, jumping sideways to avoid collisions and holding the legs of my shorts to arrest the wild swinging of the useless Garmin still sulking in my pocket, I charge James Bondesque back to security. I expect any moment for that well known theme to boom over the speaker system. Either that or "Terrorist Allert". Fortunately the first security guy speaks English and directs me to our coats, still in the gray tray we left them in. Sprinting back, now holding coats and stopping the wildly gyrating Garmin, I understood why big breasted women don't like running.

It is an uncomfortable feeling, wondering if the plane doors will still be open, but I get back with a few minutes to spare and, as it happens, it must be a bad day for coats because it is a further 10 minutes before they actually close the doors.
The three hour trip to Paris passed without incident. You can't get into a lot of trouble sitting in a cramped seat in a tube hurtling through the air. Well, at least not trouble due to our actions.

Paris, here we come....