Sunday 6th April Dieppe to Honfleur

Hopped down to Honfleur, been there before, but we needed an aire with plenty of space and reliable hook up. Wandered round the town again and spotted this sign:

Those in the Cap will know…. ORPI lives on! 

Saturday 5th April Criel Sur Mer to Dieppe

Dieppe was to be a stopover before we made our pre planned (yes there were a few plans) pilgrimage to the war beaches. We both thought that this northern town on the coast was a fishing and tired ferry port. How wrong we could be. The harbour area was alive with cool bars and restaurants, thronged with people in the sunshine. We splashed out on seafood and hoovered a couple of wets…happy days. 

The Aire (cheap car parks with some facilities for motorhomes that France has an abundance of) was central and good. Rather amusingly we ended up parked next to two gay chaps from Brighton – quel surprise non? Nothing wrong with batting for the other side I hasten to add but also nothing worse than the types that remind you every time you strike up cordial conversation that they are Gay!! It wasn’t so much the only gay in the village but the only gays in Dieppe. Loved Dieppe, like the swanky north coast resorts, but without the pretense or expense. 

Friday 4th April Le Touquet to Criel sur Mer

Brief free stopover here – truly wild camping. A picture paints a thousand words. The beauty and tranquility of the place is truly a tonic.

Obviously completely ruined for everyone by Norm’s newly found sense of security in Valerie, demonstrated by INCESSANT BARKING.

Wednesday 2nd April Dover to Le Touquet

Early start sees us managing to catch an earlier Eurotunnel than planned, so we decide to get a zoom on in the hope of finding somewhere nice to park up for our first lunch of the trip. We manage to get out of Calais in sub ten minutes (somewhat better than the 6 hours it took us last time!) and are immediately pootling down the coast road. Weather is scorching and not 20 mins out of Calais we are paddling in a turquoise sea under an azure sky with the dogs tearing round like maniacs. Norman pet seems to love France – his first look at the sea?? Moo is actually grinning, which those of you from the Cap will know is an unusual sight indeed.  Sand between the toes and coffee brewing, everybody very very happy.

On we pootle and arrive in Le Touquet. According to Noush’s step mother Le Touquet has the most Ozone anywhere in the world and is tremendously good for you. This is of course is why we feel so fabulous, nothing to do with the local bar at all. In fact we feel so fabulous that we even manage to brazen out our beers being sent flying by a classic ‘dog lead meets table’ incident. Twice. People lovely, Le Touquet super cool. Norman Pet and Moo in total disgrace. Once again everybody very happy.

We stay in Le Touquet for two nights, getting to know Valerie and trying to teach Norm the etiquette of Camping. Major fail. He insists on breaking free at every opportunity and introducing himself to everybody. Last seen following someone else’s dog into someone else’s van. Eek. The frayed end of his lead reveals the problem, one end attached to the tree, the other end a frayed mangled slobbery mess. Is there nothing that dog will not eat?? Norm’s 3 words “ I win again!”….ours: “We’re so sorry”. Sigh. Moo VERY happy at this point – he knows he’s quids in teacher’s pet. Love le Touquet, just go there, it’s ace, but on we must go.

Oddly as we leave we could swear that we saw Milky in the campsite car park… the spookiness continues as the radio display flashes up the word ‘Milky’ just as we exit the campsite… what on earth? What does it mean??? Someone at the Cap please buy him a pint. The man is omnipresent… is he God?

Monday 31st March Worcester to Dover

We’re back!! The excitement has been building for some time as, at least we hope, we embark on a second epic trip. In theory at least we plan to be away for much longer, that’s about as far as the planning has gone. First lesson we learnt last time was don’t plan. All the old questions hang in our minds though, will the van (newer and more spangly) break down before we cross the Channel; will we be able to empty the poo tank; are we to be forever lost; will taking two dogs (not least Norman Pet) cause us endless pain? No doubt will find out sooner rather than later.

As Mother used to tell me. In life one door closes and another opens. This particular time the pub door closes and the Van door opens. Even by our standards though the pub door opened sooner than expected as we travelled the gruelling 9 miles to the Talbot in Knightwick to meet the parents for the for ‘last supper’. We had actually planned this and booked a room for the night. Last proper bed and more worryingly last proper pint of ale. Eek.

The last supper was awesome. Great to see the folks. The Holligog and custard was a fitting final desert. If you haven’t tried it you must otherwise you haven’t lived or you’re gay. We reflected on the final night in the pub and all the people and friends that came to see us off. Thank you to all those folks. You know who you are and we will always keep in contact where ever we are. What a send off you gave us!     

      

Tuesday morning arrived with mild hangover and the legacy of 5 straight months without a day off. In the Van (christened Valerie) off we zoom to Dover. Well actually no. It took us 9 hours. This was not the start we wanted. En route on the m25 car park we were listening to Radio 2. The idea of the fill between music was to phone in with 3 words that summed up your day. Having been stationary for what seemed like hours and having consumed gallons of water the bladder was at bursting point to put it midly. I mused that mine would been ‘need a piss’. Had we not been in a motorhome I think I will have shortly followed up with ‘shit, too late’.

Chartres to Saint Leu d’Esserent Sunday 14th October and on to Calais Monday 15th October

We leave Chartres and decide to head towards Beauvais, but then we read bad things about Beauvais and have a change of heart. The weather is still appalling, but we’re still hopeful of a day trip to Paris so we decide to stick a bit closer, but get a bit further east with half an eye on Calais in case we need to bail. We find a campsite just south of Creil and have a nice pootle along country roads to get there. The villages around here are still dotted with randomly enormous castles and old wine houses.

We find the campsite at Saint Leu d’Esserent (L’Abatialle), awesome place with really lovely people who are utterly charming in their welcome. We head to town to try and find some supplies and instead come across a lovely little bar run by what could well be the nicest bar woman in the world, serving the finest cold Beer In the world. As great as the ale was we were somewhat bemused by the name, as popular belief would have us believe this is contradictory.

Maybe, we mused, this beer contains some closely guarded secret properties? We, however, preferred the story that is was in fact brewed by a distant relative of Thomas Hardy the famous Poet who had an unfortunate Christian name.

After staying too long and putting too many Euros into the Hardy brewing enterprise we made our way back to the campsite. We had come to a decision in the bar (after receiving a phone call of potentially good news) that the time was right to head back to the UK. The phone call, the length of time we had been on the road, coupled with our recent engagement and the need to go and see our families, made the decision fairly clear cut and easy. That and the rain! So, decision made we decide to have an early night and make a break for Calais early the next morning.

Next morning dawns and we greet it with EPIC shab on board! All thoughts of an early night were washed away (by far too much red wine) in the realisation that this was the last night of our trip as we knew it. However, we put a brave face on the hangover and set off for Blighty.

The fates have not finished with us yet though and even in the twilight of your adventure they still manage to surprise us. We have been attempting to wind our way gently north avoiding the autoroute in order to see the best of the countryside, but the roads are just too busy and it’s taking us forever. So we make the executive decision to take the next road that will get us onto the autoroute so that we can make some time. Unbelievably that road happens to take us through Mametz: the campsite we stayed in on our very first night of the trip in France all those months ago. It’s mind bogglingly coincidental, what are the chances???! There have been many odd coincidences on this trip but to end up, by pure chance, going through Mametz was almost like we had gone full circle. There has been more than one occasion when we have felt that the hand of fate was guiding us.

As we pull into the docks at Calais, we have one final laugh which above all else has epitomised this epic road trip.  We roll up to the check in window passport control thingy and the guy asks us where we stayed last night… you would think that this wouldn’t be a particularly difficult question, but it leaves us both totally stumped and mouthing wordlessly, like goldfish, at check in guy. We honestly can’t think where we’ve been and the guy is looking at us like we’re on drugs or something. We try our best to explain that we’ve been travelling round Europe for the last few months and that we’ve honestly got nothing to hide, we just can’t remember where we were last night! Thankfully he sees the funny side and lets us through with a chuckle. It does bring the point home though, all the places we’ve seen and the miles we’ve travelled. It has been an epic journey and an adventure, something that we’ll look back on with no small amount of pride at what we’ve achieved. Whilst this might be the end of our travels for now, we will be back in a few short weeks to carry on trying to find our new life and to brave the second chapter in what we hope will be a lifetime together of discovery and finding our place in the world.

Distance travelled to date 5,600 miles

With light minds and hopeful hearts we bid farewell to France, we’ll be seeing you again soon…. 

To be continued..

Chateaudun to Chartres Saturday 13th October

We awake to grey skies under the watchful and slightly sinister gaze of the Chateau, which towers above us. This is a lovely spot for an aire (take note Italian Tourist People), even with the questionable weather.

We head into town to do some admin tasks and take advantage of free wi-fi. We trudge up the endless steep steps that run alongside the Chateau, well-worn steps seem like they almost reach for the sky. It makes you wonder about the history those steps have witnessed over the years. Once you get to the top the view is incredible. Well worth the near heart attack.

Town tasks complete and fuelled by an overdose of nuclear French coffee we set sail for Chartres. Our first task after navigating the centre ville was to fill with fuel. This is normally an easy task in France as in built up areas gas stations are two a penny. Not so today. With the rain hammering down we search in vain for somewhere to fill up, whilst running on veritable fumes. After a few laps of the town we find an Intermarche, relief. Actually no. There is a height limit of 3.2 metres and Onzo is 3.2 and besides, the pump is out of order. Eventually we find a pump with no height limit where the Lorries can fill; this will do the job nicely. Sadly the gods of petrol distribution step in again. This particular pump is one those self-service ones which are common in France, so your card has to be authorised by the machine beforehand. We insert card after card, Visa, MasterCard, Debit, Credit. We even try the House of Fraser store card and the AA breakdown card. None of them were to be accepted. Computer says no – period. What card do you need FFS! For everything else in life there’s MasterCard my arse.

We eventually manage to eek €25 out of a Total garage at vastly over inflated cost per litre, but still, Total Hero, saviour of the moment. Finally we can set off towards Chartres. Bearing in mind that it’s only up the road, the fact that we’ve covered about 20 miles in an hour so far and are only about a mile further away from the Chateau is not ideal. Heading towards Chartres isn’t that fun either, the weather is windy and torrential, but eventually we hit the outskirts. A quick getting lost in the city centre results in a phone call to the campsite to get some directions, remarkably this works a treat and we find the place without incident, but we do decide to go and get some provisions on board before we stop as there doesn’t look like there’s a shop nearby. An hour of fruitless searching later having followed the signs towards an Intermarche that simply doesn’t exist (hating Intermarche today), we give up and retreat to the campsite. The barrier is closed and there’s no one there to let us in. This despite the fact that we called and asked them if we could arrive at any time and they said yes. We decide to park up and wait after some dude under an umbrella informs us reception will re-open at 3pm. This also turns out to be fiction as they in fact open at 2pm. It’s like being in a slightly different dimension to everyone else today. Nothing is quite working as it should. Eventually we check in.

Then French bloke behind the counter reminds us (physically) of Toady, from Wind In the Willows, but without the impish sense of humour. A squat, pompous, dismissive, sour git frankly. As a rule we have found the French to be helpful, polite and utterly charming. This guy was none of those and for whatever reason must have taken an instant dislike to us. When we had paid, which involved zero eye contact, instead dismissive grunts, we waited outside the barrier to let through. It’s still throwing it down at this point and Onzo is sat in a giant puddle in front of the still-oh-so-static barrier. With a sigh Noush jumps out of the van (into the puddle) and trots over to squat piggy eyed French man. As soon as she steps into the office the barrier opens, manned by French dude his piggy eyes glinting with sly malice. With a glare that could have levelled cities and should have left him flensed and shredded, Noush turns on her heel and stalks back to the Van. The air turns from a steady rainy grey to a rather alarming shade of blue. There then proceeds the fight to find somewhere we can park, being as this is a campsite you wouldn’t think it would be too difficult, however the ground is totally waterlogged. Getting onto a pitch would be an achievement in itself, getting off unlikely if not impossible. We opt for a stretch of gravel, accessible after a fight with some overhanging branches, which we win. Finally ensconced and utterly exhausted by the fight that France has given us today we go to bed. It’s 3pm. Two hours later and much restored we awake to find that the weather has lifted somewhat, we decide to make an attempt at Chartres.

Thankfully this turns out to be a good decision and the rewards of Chartres go a long way to soothing the hurts of the day. The city is riddled with churches and ancient buildings. There are beautiful spires peeking over roof tops every way you turn. The streets are thronged with people and the shops are of the “50% off and you still can’t afford it” breed. Recession?? Ahem. Oddly there are a disproportionate number of opticians, perhaps one every four shops. Is this because people get myopia from all the double takes at the wildly high prices? We spot the most traditional butcher either of us have ever seen, a butchers block the size off the whole shop and a white haired old man, in his white apron, cleaver in hand. It’s like a vignette of the butchers of old. Shamelessly we have to take a photo, it’s just awesome!

We both need some more appropriate footwear, flip flops just aren’t getting it done anymore, but a quick look in a shoe shop results in mild palpitations and a sharp exit. Jon claims that it was because it was too “leathery” (???!), but we both know it’s because shoes shouldn’t cost €400.

We duck into the cathedral and catch a mass in progress. The cathedral is up there with some of the most beautiful that we’ve seen. The sound of the sermon echoing off the stone and the ringing clarity of a female soloist is all very moving.

Chartes is clearly a prosperous city and very beautiful with it, however darkness is falling and after a quick beer in a rather unlikely jungle themed bar we fumble our way back in the dark, along the treacherous river path, to the campsite.  The day has definitely been redeemed, against all the odds, thank you Chartres.