Viva l'Espana etc etc.

"Oooh Sh*te!! That was a bad one. Something must have broken somewhere. Now come on Steve, concentrate, bloody well concentrate!"

The trouble with travelling on smaller rural roads, which is what I like to do in order to experience 'off grid' Spain is that sometimes you don't actually see the important bits you need to see. Like speed bumps. This happens to me once or twice every year before I learn. I hit one too fast and wham bang wallop everything gets shaken and strained to breaking point. Its the same in France and Spain, but Spain in particular scatters these sadistic vehicle killers liberally around on anything other than major roads. They are big too. Really big, often with a pedestrian crossing on the top. The entry and exit slopes are usually pretty savage which demands Sadie be in second gear to creep over them. This particular 'Ooooh sh*te' was hit unexpectedly at about twenty mph. Disaster!! Thankfully the only damage was a bent bike rack and a sticky door which were both fixable. My nerves were in tatters though and I was pretty amazed no other serious damage happened. I've been very careful since.

Sadie was not let off lightly though. She was immediately flung into the gorgeous windy, as in hairpin bend after hairpin bend, cliff hugging road complete with breathtaking views of the sea between 'St Feliu de Guixols' and 'Lloret de Mar'. We even did an excursion up into the hills to the old hermitage at 'Sant Grau' where we enjoyed a peaceful night. While there out walking following one of the many 'cork tree bark cutter's' trails, there was lots of evidence of wild boar. At one point I could hear them snuffling away in the forest below us. Tanya was kept close as we quietly retreated.

Sant Grau at one time must have been a school or holiday centre as there was a large abandoned and empty swimming pool and sports area. Graffiti adorned most walls with one in the games area sporting a lurid, highly coloured, and sexually explicit but beautifully done piece of very clever artwork. I've attached a photo but it really does not do it or its creator justice. I'm afraid it knocked the scenic trail of Rennie Macintosh landscapes back in 'Port Vendre' firmly into second place.
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Mmmmm: warm sunshine, no early morning heating required (a first for this trip) and a view across the 'Delta De L'Ebre'. All this as I tuck in to my breakfast of fresh Mango accompanied with Jordans Almond and Raisin Oat crunchy. We are at a very pleasant Aire near 'El Poblenou del Delta' way out near the coastal edge of this flat wetland, rice growing and bird sanctury 'Parc Natural'. I've already 'binocular spied' the Flamingos, numerous Herons and the prowling Marsh harrier. Plus, as you'd expect, the large tractors with huge rear cage type mulching wheels. At this time of year they literally drive through the flooded rice paddys mulching last years rice crop stubble into a big mushy and muddy mess. Next month they drain the paddys allowing them to dry and be cultivated and then re-sown with this years rice crop.

I also had a long chat to a German guy and his 'Eagle One' rig of big old Mercedes truck complete with live in trailer. He too is a fulltiimer, travelling solo and also runs a blog. Then he tells me his blog has 750,000 subcribers and the Google adverts on his site are what fund his adventures. Well, when I last looked I had 9 readers of my blog. Guess at that rate I would have to pay Google! The downside is he was moving on as he needed internet access. His followers demand an update almost on a daily basis. Not for me I'm afraid. I quite like my alone'ness and out of touch'ness. Once a week internet seems fine for me at present. Mind you if my readership should rise to say 10 or even 15, my goodness, then I'd have to think again would I not!

Bike came out today. Another first for this trip. And why not. A lovely warm and breezy day with completely flat rice paddy and dyke land to pedal over. Eeeezy peeezy. Errrr no! Going out to the coast was exhilerating with the wind at our back nearly making pedalling unnecesary. Coming back was not so easy with the afternoon wind even stronger and me tired after running the legs off Tanya on the huge beach. However; because of this slow cycling we were treated to a beautiful  Kingfisher sighting. For some time it skimmed along the dyke to my right just above the water then perched on one of the many small entrance bridges to the rice fields. It seemed to be waiting for us to catch up. As soon as we did a flash of red and blue and off it went skimming to the next bridge. Tired legs fade into the background when nature allows you a glimpse of Kingfisher magnificense. Mind you it could have been the other way round. Mr kingfisher may have been saying; "Will y'get a load of this. Bright yellow (my bike jacket) green (Tanyas bucket) and black moving thing with red and yellow (Tanya + red collar + flourescent yellow harness) Boy oh boy; as a Kingfisher I thought I was pretty cute with my blues, reds and greens but this human thing .... I tell you guys it was something else. Got me proper turned on it did!"

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Few days later.
Fourteen kilometres of Sadies 1st and 2nd gear it was. Magic though. Totally un-metalled (ie rough track) hugging the coast and well on the way to being washed away by it in several places. The plan (Ha ha!) was to move to a campsite for a few days as laundry was building up and Tanya needed a good wash and clip. "I'll just put 'Peniscola' in the sat nav. Looks nice and it will make a good lunch spot." Says I. It did too with a bonus amazing sand sculpture on the beach. Re-setting the sat nav I noticed a much smaller road hugging the coast to 'Camping Ribamar' near 'Alcossebre'. Camping Ribamar was listed in my ACSI book of European campsites as quiet, near a rocky beach and with all facilities at the standard ACSI price of €16.00 per night. 

"Just the job. Now how do I find my way out to this smaller road mrs Sat Nav".

  Mrs Sat Nav gets all flustered and grumpy when I start doing things like telling her she is a bicycle which forces her to show me the little roads Motorhomes are not supposed to be on. Bless her, she's only getting flustered out of concern for us which is fair as usually it takes a bit of; 

"Oops! Don't really think we should be going down here Tanya!"

 before we finally clear town and reach small rural roads proper. As I said earlier this was definitely rural with only mountain bikers and locals in their 4 x 4's raising the dust on this stunning track along the coast. Yes it was rough. Slow slow very slow was called for. The reward? A night out on a clifftop over the sea right out in the wild with amazing views both ways along the coast. Plus a long chat with a couple from Wrexham! Yes Wrexham! They were on holiday in Peniscola and walking the hills and coast. We all enjoyed a coffee courtesy of Sadie, and I think they appreciated, as you do, the accompanying chat with the owner of this British registered motorhome which had perched itself in  such an unexpected place.

We resumed the next morning slowly easing ourselves along the track which was perfectly serviceable and well used but shiny protruding beach rock rough. Beaches were walked and crashing waves were watched. Camping Ribamar hove into view mid afternoon and it was not long before we settled onto pitch H2 and bubbling kettle birthed a welcome cup of tea. I'm sure I heard a big sigh of relief from Sadie,  particularly her wheels and suspension, as I turned the key and let her engine stop.

Downside of campsite? 3g signal is zilch and wi fi is an expensive extra.

Upside? They have a dedicated doggy washing area c/w warm shower. That is cool yeah?!

Plus - unusually there are 3 other Shnauzers in the vans around me. I've met 2 and been told of the other. One of them is called 'Anya'. Even more cool yeah?!

Good days & bad days

"Tanya this is a toolbox job!" 

Out came the plumbers wrench which when combined with a wee bit of elbow grease made short work of removing the reluctant to open barrier obstructing my exit from the 'Milleau' motorhome Aire. I had met 80 yr old Keith from 'Wetherby' with his van as we tried to enter the previous night. That was bad enough with the automatic payment booth very quickly extracting €9.60 from our credit cards but then giving no instructions as to how the little plastic card it issued gave entry. I finally swiped mine across the green exit button and hey presto the barrier opened. I stood in front of it to prevent it closing while Keith drove in, stopped and then stood in front of the barrier allowing me to enter. Now of course I was reaping the benefit of having already used my little plastic card on the exit button. The silly machine just kept saying ''carte abus'' as I re-presented it in order to leave. I was also last to leave so there was no one else around to assist. Hence the plumbers wrench engineering solution. I hasten to add I did re-assemble the barrier after my exit. The bolts are now just finger tight though. Maybe it will help some other poor motorhomer facing the same dilemma.

I decided after such trauma to go 'off Piste' and head into the hills stopping off just outside Milleau to admire from below the world famous viaduct. I will leave actually driving over it for another day. I instead headed out into the delightful 'Monts de Lacune' area and struck lucky. 'Chateau de Montaigut' beckoned for me to hang a left and head up the steep twisty road to where she perched very prominently and impressively overlooking the valley below. She presented us with a lovely but windy car park for the night. Not a soul did we see as we explored this closed but still fascinating historical monument. Most interesting of all though was that the buildings/barns were full of antique farm machinery. Well! I was in heaven. Old binders, ploughs, fodder presses, threshing machines and crown of all ..... wait for it as this is really exciting .... Oh come on wake up, it's not that boring ...... an old red Massey Harris bagger combine harvester ..... Wow! n just how cool is that? And how tiny compared to the red, yellow and Green monsters that munch through modern day cornfields. Yes I agree. These things depend very much on personal history, memories and associations which were all there for me as I clambered around and over these 'from another era'  rusting iron memories.

We continued our meander through the hills next day, Saturday. Weather was deteriorating and every time I spotted a place to stop for lunch there was another group of hunters out in their orange jackets, guns slung over their shoulders and with their howling and ferocious looking dogs. Not a place for letting Tanya out for a run. We found out what they were hunting too. Coming round a sharp downhill bend a wild boar suddenly burst out from the forest and nearly ran straight into us in, I presume, it's headlong and probably doomed rush to escape the hunting dogs and ultimately the guns of their owners. It was only a fleeting glimpse but that is all you need to reccognise terror be it it in a wild boar or a human.

Finally blue sky and sun although it is accompanied by a strong and very cold wind coming straight off the snow covered Pyrennes. No matter. In the lee the sun is warm and today for the first time it was down to shirt sleeves on a beach walk with Tanya. We are actually on familiar territory. Familiar in that I am now on the Med coast at 'Port Vendre'. We spent happy days here on our first trip 2 years ago. Last time I was here March/April time and things were starting to open. At present everywhere is still in full Winter mode. Ie; closed! Apart that is from Supermarche's, Boulangerie's, Banques and around every corner the illuminated green neon cross symbol of the pharmacie. I tell you there's money in them there drugs, big money, for somebody. France, I can assure you, is according to my observation even more addicted to pill and potion for any and every ailment as we are in the UK.

I've just finished a very nice platter consisting the last of my frozen chips, the last of my spicy Chorizo, accompanied by mushrooms, egg and tinned tomatoes. Delicious. Especially so as when we drove in to Port Vendre, a working port by the way, it looked as though it was actually open for business. There were even some cafes open with folk drinking coffee. So park up we did in the Aire round the back of the port. Changed into respectable clothes I did. Tanya duly fed and off we walks to see if we could treat ourselves to a meal out. Ha! They must have seen me coming. Everything was closing up as we walked down the attractive front by the harbour. The only premises alive and functioning with about 5 or 6 people in it, yes you've guessed, le, or maybe its la, Pharmacie! We enjoyed our walk though and did I not do well, resisting the temptation to nip into the local Super U supermarche and grab a pizza!

Ahhh France! So good to be back.

Oh yes, definitely good feelings as Sadie rolled along at her leisurely pace over the wide expanse and highly agriculturised 'Marne' & 'Seine Marne' plains. Sun gleamed through the windscreen as memories of our lunchtime walk around 'Epenyar' were recalled. Lighter jacket had to be donned to accommodate warm sun upon cheeks.

Long, stretching to the horizon, and sparsly trafficked roads are such a delight and relief after the busy, stressful and badly repaired roads of the UK, the South in particular.

Not that everything is perfect. That would be too much to expect. I still have a dodgy fridge and could well at some point be changing diet to accommodate fridge being re-named as 'storage cupboard, non cool'.

The Champagne city of 'Reims' was not kind to me either. My book of 'Aires' I (overnight stopover places for Motorhomes) indicated there was one within five minutes walk of the famous 'Reims Cathederal'. Mrs Sat Nav gobbled up the destination and took us there faultlessly. Only it wer'nt there!! Or else it was so well hidden as to be beyond finding for this ancient traveler who was knackered after an early off the ferry start plus a good but longer journey than he ought to have done. Evening rush hour did not help either.

"Sod it!" I exclaimed as I dived into a side street to recuperate. Mrs Sat Nav soon had us safely ensconsed in the car park hinterland of a mega mega huge 'e le Clerc' Hypermarket courtesy of a quick Google search. A safe night where we were not bovvered by anyone was subsequently enjoyed.
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Just had a knock on the door with a very kind French gentleman saying, ''Securitie monsieur. Vous remainez ici et tres dangeroux".

Now. This is half past eight at night in the sleepy little French town of 'Pont sur-Yonne'. I am well fed, snug, warm and parked by the Yonne canal/river. Very pleasant and quiet it is too. However; and to my surprise, just behind me is a motorhome cum camping accessory store which I browsed around earlier. Seems kindly French gentleman is a friend of the owner who allows him to stay there in his motorhome. He is parked inside the store security fence.  I presume he became concerned as I, a fellow motorhomer, was outside in the dark world known as, 'Dangeroux'.

He seemed very genuine so I accommodated his anxiety and allowed him to escort us inside where, after securely locking the gate behind us and wishing me "Bon nuit" he entered his little Tardis and I entered mine. A lovely gesture and concerned action from a complete stranger. How cool and kind is that!

And boy Oh boy do I feel safer now I am locked securely away behind high wire fences and well away from that dangerous outside world ....... !
.............
Next Morning. Turns out kindly and genuine Frenchman is manager of one of the local Hypermarkets and chooses to live, with his female partner, in their motorhome as homeowning is so expensive here in France. Now where have I heard that before?

Tonight, Sunday, another sleepy village 'Quarre les-Tombs'. We are in the 'Parc Nationale Morvan'. A hilly forested and very wet area but with a very nice Aire for motorhomes right next to the church and 'centre ville'. As usual for all of these mid sized villages, there is, right next to us, a magnificent gym, activities hall, and playing field complex. S'funny, but they seem to value them over here rather than selling them off for housing!
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The warm sunny weather did not last! Wet and cold last night but a lovely Aire at Autun right by a big lake. Unfortunately it was also opposite Macdonalds and yes: last night I cheated. Chicken and bacon wrap with large fries for supper. Yum yum but only every now and again. It was wet, cold and we had done a long walk by another lake earlier. We needed a bit of familiar comfort!!

It is such a shame as here I am, a teetotaller, travelling through some of France's most famous, and prosperous wine areas. Burgundy, Beaujolais, Champagne and they are all beautiful even in this cold and wet weather. I did however make a lunch stop today in 'Charolle' with it's 32 bridges. They are not ''Charolle's' main claim to fame. That honour belongs to the surrounding countryside which is all grassland farms proudly displaying their big chunky white Charollais beef cattle. The ones outside had distinctly muddy coloured lower halves but were still unmistakeable in confirmation of their home town.

Just East of 'St Etienne' tonight. Lovely Aire right by a huge man made lake complete with marina and beach at 'St Victor sur Loire'. We will explore it a little more tomorrow. Had to laugh when we arrived. I had not intended driving so far today but the weather was lousy so we just kept going South. Sure enough as we dropped down toward 'St Etienne' the skies started to clear and the mood lifted. We arrived here at 'St Victor' and parked overlooking the lake. 'Just the job' I thought to myself as I moved from one seat to another to alleviate trouser department grumbles.

"What the ******** !" I exclaimed from my compromised position as Sadie started to do a rock and roll while my ears were assailed by the thunder of heavy wind driven rain hammering the roof!  Mischievous cheeky Gods I thought. They'd followed me, waited till I'd stopped, viewed and approved the location and got all enthusiastic about taking Tanya for a good walk. Then sneekily they had struck while I had my trousers down. I shook my head in dis-belief as I spoke out in frustration the words made famous by 'St Victors sur Loire's' namesake. 'I do not believe it!'