fillingthegaps

Leaving a space of a few days between my comments presents quite a problem: we are travelling through countryside of such charm that I really cannot decide what to include and what to leave out.

A couple of days ago we arrived at Cordes-sur-Ciel  – a fabulously old, incredible town built on a very steep hill – or should I say mountain-top. We arrived here by driving down a country lane weaving its way through acres of sunflowers.

We took a walk up through the township – labouring up steep cobble-stone streets.

We would repeatedly come to a corner and think ‘this must be the top’, only to find the street continuing to wind its way upwards. Which led us to surmise that maybe the “sur-ciel” bit did not refer to the town being on the river Ciel (couldn’t find a river) but more to the fact that the town really does reach to the sky.

The old buildings, dating back to the 1300’s, are being lived in  (and many are  being carefully restored) and fill me  yet again with an admirati9on for the skill of the artisans of those days.

The top of the hill/mountain had been flattened and incredibly, a chateau , a civic building and a covered market-place were all sitting on that flat area.

The view from that eagle’s nest position was fabulous and one could have been sitting in an aircraft looking down on the picture-book landscape below. The warriors of old must have quite secure, looking down from such lofty heights and espying every move for miles around.

Then today we have moved on – thrusting ever-south in this surprisingly large country. As R remarked to me today, ‘no wonder the Tour de France lasts for 3 weeks – they would never get around it in less’. (in fact the Tour includes a few  airline hops between Stages, because this is a big country!)

Today’s journey has again taken us through yet more acres of sunflower fields

over rolling hills which gradually increased in intensity until we were making kilometer-long ascents and descents of 10% gradients.

The vans certainly worked hard today, earning their keep in no small way. (incidentally, at a motor-home dealership that we stopped at today, we saw for sale, a van of similar vintage to our two, in  similar condition. The asking price was about 3 times what we had paid, so we feel that we made pretty good purchases back in Berlin)

Our journey  which took us through more impressive towns

 was interrupted midday to call in a the motor  home dealers to look for a  spare part for our hand basin tap (the switch was on the blink) We arrived at 12.10. Walking into the shop, the two men in there shrugged their shoulders expressively and said it was lunch time. Being now familiar with French lunchtimes I said, so you open again at 2.0pm? Correct! They could not bend their lunchtime by 10mins. to accommodate a potential customer, so we waited in the 30C sun for 2 hours. And you may have guessed right – they did not have the part that we needed! Fortunately R had another address up his sleeve, so off he and I went in one van, leaving the rest to have a game of Carcassonne. (very aptly as it happened since tomorrow we hope to visit this historic town)

In spite of detours down impossibly-narrow streets (we always pick them) and traffic jams on the way back, we found the part and returned in triumph.

Eventually we were off again and almost immediately into an 8km climb, twisting its way up into the mountains. R radio-ed back to us “if we can see a likely spot, I think we should pull over and call it a day” Moments later, as we crested the top of the mountain and curved around the next bend – there was this perfect picnic area, waiting to be used.

I have said it before but I say it again – we have been incredibly fortunate with the places we have found,  to rest for the night.

There is a myth that abounds, that the French are a proud and rather ‘snooty’ race, disdaining to speak English and despising anyone who cannot speak their language. In fact I am sure that I contributed to this myth in days past, having received less-than-cordial treatment from some French people when visiting France some 30 years ago, on business. But I have to explode the myth: since we have been in this country (all of 5 days!) we have received courteous and friendly treatment – from strangers in the street to shopkeepers to fellow-campers. And wherever you meet someone, they will greet you with a friendly ‘bon jour’. The averted eyes and the silent passage of two strangers as in NZ is unthinkable in this country. To not greet another person with a ‘bon jour’ on meeting, and a parting ‘au‘voir’ if you have had a brief conversation with them, would be decidedly boorish. I like it.

I said we have only been in France for 5 days but we have covered a fair few miles  (approx. 800km) and have seen a fair bit of the countryside – and we are captivated by it. We left England, having been almost driven out by persistent heavy rain, gale-force winds and cold temperatures over the last 2 weeks. (typical English summer some would say!) We awoke in France to clear blue skies and warmer temperatures. The wind persisted for a couple of days, but as we pressed on southwards, the wind dropped, the sky got bluer and the thermometer continued to rise. What a happy combination. The flat golden wheat-fields of the north have given way to  rolling wooded hillsides, which seem to be heralding the onset of the Pyrenees.

Now we are resting up in an historic village named Uzerche: another idyllic spot found, yet again, almost by accident. Our ‘chefs de mission’ pick our destinations based on facilities available and possible interest in the locality. These two factors are given various weighting depending on where we are in the course of our journey. This place was chosen because it had the facilities and it was on our proposed route and it was about the right distance from the previous spot. We had no idea it would prove to be such a gem.

We arrived here at the end of a marathon 500km hike. We do not normally choose to do such a distance in one day, but our planners reasoned  that the roads would be good, the weather was fine and the further we headed south the better the weather would be. They were right on all counts and here we are, basking under an impossibly-blue sky, thankful for the shade the trees above us are providing and enjoying the mid- to high-20’s temperature.

I must admit that we were not so happy when we first drove into the village: we had followed the gps directions and it had led us into the village, under a very picturesque arched bridge and up a steep hill. THEN we swung right, into an impossibly narrow street, still going upwards.

The street led us through a narrow stone archway

– the ancient gateway to the old fortified town, But we were not thinking about that at the time. Squeezing through the gateway, we followed the big van ever upwards, the streets getting even narrower and more twisty. Finally we crested the top – surrounded by chateaux, ancient houses and an old church. Down past a group of elderly dames enjoying the sun

No sign of a van park up here! We certainly could not go back, so on we went, plunging down the other side of this steep hill, road narrow and twisty until with relief we found ourselves coming out onto a normal width road once more. It only took a moment to realise that we had just completed ‘le grand tor’ coming out exactly where we had started! The big van swung abruptly into an opportune carpark and we scrambled in after them. Time to re-group and consult book and GPS. All seemed in order, except that there was obviously no van park in the middle of an ancient town on top of a steep hill! It was then that we realised that we were parked in the carpark reserved for customers of a pharmacy, adjacent to the park. With a courage born of desperation, we entered the pharmacy armed with the camp-site book, and haltingly asked if the person could help us to find this place. Ah! here was another of our friendly French people. Yes she knew the place and proceeded to give us rapid directions in perfectly good French, as to how to find the place. After struggling for some time – we to understand her, and she to understand the tortured French, she smiled and took pity on us, and told us how to find the place in very nice English! And the park was actually just around the corner.

The van park is actually the forecourt of an old, long-defunct, railway station. But it has all the facilities we need, and is absolutely free.

The rail tracks that led into and out of the station are now delightful, shaded walking/biking tracks.

At the edge of the park the bank drops steeply down to the river, and on the other side of the river, on an equally steep hillside sits the township that we drove through with such skill and courage a little earlier on.

We have since been on a walking exploration of the town and  have loved it. The cobbled streets, the narrow staircases,

the old buildings,

the intriguing door-knocker,

the old church,

 and the marvelous views

Ahhhh.. la Belle France!

Leaving the trans-Canada train after 3 1/2 days

and catching a short hop on the Skytrain

to the YWCA where I am staying, Vancouver has proved to be a marvelous place to relax and stretch the legs. And the weather has certainly helped. I have been here 3 days (I leave tomorrow afternoon) and each day has been a perfect summer’s day. Great for walking and biking and I have been doing quite a bit of both.

Downtown Vancouver is virtually an island, encircled by the sea on all sides except for  a narrow isthmus. Situated on top of a hill, the city slopes down from the center, to the sea no matter which way you walk.

And an attractive city it is. Full of well-designed high-rise blocks of hotels, offices and shopping malls, it could be like any other city, but somehow they have managed to create a feeling of space, orderliness and relaxation which is hard to define. Maybe it is the proximity of the sea, and the profusion of sidewalk cafes that lends to this impression.

I have to say ‘though, that I have been surprised to see many beggars in the city streets: people with a paper cup in hand, asking for money, and quite a few trundling their worldly possession in a trolley of some sort. Canada would be a very expensive place to try and exist on hand-outs. And I was further surprised by what I encountered this morning when I went for a walk after breakfast. I went to have another look at the Steam Clock (and forgot to take my camera!) which is like a grandfather clock whose driving weight is lifted by steam power, and whose ‘chimes’ are blown by steam on a series of whistles. Moving on from there I went in search of China Town and in so doing, wandered through an older part of the city.

This part was from another world: the shops were dingy or boarded up and populating the streets were an assortment of people from ‘the other side’: someone high on something, unsteadily jiving to a tune only he could hear; someone climbing out of a waste bin with an armful of ‘trophies’; a bedraggled old lady pushing a cart of belongings; a brightly painted lady saying hi to anyone who walked past; and all over the place people of all shapes, sizes and ages just sitting on the sidewalk or hanging around, obviously with no purpose in mind for the day. It was depressing. I wondered what sorry set of circumstances would lead to people ending up in this hopeless condition? And who is at fault? And what could be done about it?  To be honest, I was pleased to be out of the area, not having any real answers in my head.

I hired a bike for the day and managed to take in quite a lot of the city and the nearby parks and museums. The city has a great network of bike/walking trails which enable you to get around to most places without fighting the traffic. The views of the city were attractive, as you can see.

I made it to the Vancouver Museum too,

where they were staging an exhibition celebrating Vancouver’s involvement with the Cycling revolution. A good display of bikes of all sorts plus a history of the City’s growing acceptance and promotion of cycling as a means of transport. Interesting.

Canada, more than most countries, has a real need for float planes, because of the endless lakes which cover the country, and Vancouver has a busy float plane airport right next to the main shipping terminal. Fascinating to watch boats and aircraft all seemingly sharing the same space on the harbour!

Vancouver has been quite a treat to visit – a very pleasant end to my ‘Canadian Experience’. But I have to confess I am quite keen to re-join the Camper vans and resume our wanderings across the UK and Europe

I am writing this at about 35000ft in the air, moving at very close to the speed of sound. And taking it all quite for granted. But in the last few days we re-visited one of the places of my childhood- in the days when 300 mph for a fighter aircraft was really something – and flying at the speed of sound (or over, as many now do) was not even thought about. (well, maybe by the boffins)

We had left the wild beauty of Tintagel and Clovelley and made our way back East to the more prosaic Weston-Super-Mare and now moved on towards Stratford on Avon, heading to the Midlands. But on the way we purposed to visit some spots I had fond memories of, as a teenager. First was the house of my aunt, in Chippenham in Wiltshire, where a whole bunch of cousins stayed when things got a bit too dangerous back on the edge of London where we were living. 3 families: 9 children plus their mothers, plus a lodger all crammed into a fairly small 3-bedroom semi-detached home. We stayed there a couple  of times, once for about a year and also for a holiday, if my memory serves me right. Well we were passing close by, and with the aid of Rob’s trusty GPS we found the street once more. It seems that every house we have lived in is left to decay in later years. A neighbour informed us that the gentleman that used to live there had just gone into a home as the place was too much for him. As clearly it was, with peeling paint and weed-infested front garden. But this was the place of many childhood memories and it was rather nice to see that it was still there, and likely to be so for many a year to come.

Then on to another place of happy memories – Cheddar Gorge, which I had cycled up a few times while bike-touring with good mates, and had later cycled up again in training as a racing cyclist while in the RAF at Locking, near Weston-S-Mare. It was even more of a gorge than I remembered and we were all quite spell-bound by the magnitude of it.

Then on to the famous caves at Wookey Hole, but oh, what a disappointment! The place has now been turned into an Entertainment complex, with the caves and the hand paper-making almost an add-on to the games parlour etc. And the charges were exorbitant. So, we gave the caves a miss, and consoled ourselves with an ice-cream instead.

One last place before we turned North? Yes we would Make the time, and so we pressed on to the cathedral city of Wells.

We and a picnic lunch on the green sward in front of the Cathedral and took in the beauty of this ancient town.

Finally we headed North and made our way to the home of Bill Shakespeare – Stratford-on-Avon. Fascinating to walk up old cobble-stone streets and see houses that were built 400 years ago, still going strong. A little bent here and there and a sag or two evident – but at my age I can relate to that with sympathy.

The incongranuity of the Asian Ice-cream seller next to William Shakespear’s birth[lace struck us forcefully

We stayed in the front yard of another friendly couch-surfing family who let us use all their ‘civilised’ facilities. The next day my daughter and I were scheduled to leave the happy band of vanners and drive a hire-car to York. Meanwhile the tribe were scheduled to go and visit Warwick Castle on the same day. But overnight the heavens opened up and the morning dawned grey and very wet. Our trip to York was still on, but the Tribe were left to re-schedule their activities.

Rob drove us to the car hire place where I was expecting to pick up the smallest, cheapest, Ford they had on the books. But when I checked in I discovered that they had no record of my on-line booking. The only car they had available was a streamlined rocket  – a VW Sirocco. And it was virtually brand-new! (sorry – no picture) The increase in cost was minimal and the rain was still pouring down, so I did not argue!

Our plan was to head East until we connected with the M1 and then high-tail it Northwards to York. I thought it might take about 4 hrs max. But we are getting quite used to our progress on the road being frustrated by circumstances, and this day was no exception. It rained and rained and with the rain came slow driving and accidents. We didn’t actually see any accidents but we encountered slow traffic and detours all the way up’ We had hoped to arrive at about 3.0pm. Instead we finally checked in to our B & B at about 6!

The only good thing was that it had finally stopped raining, so after a quick cuppa we were off to explore the city. And an intriguing, historic city it is. With the Minster

With a sturdy Wall encircling the old city,

with ancient buildings leaning crazily towards each other

and ancient cobbled streets

and fascinating architecture on every corner

we were totally enraptured by York.

Then the tummies started to rumble and so we had a bite to eat. Coming out of the restaurant at about 9.0pm, we looked up and down the narrow streets and made a guess as to which way was ‘home’. We both agreed on a direction and started walking. To cut a long story short, after we had passed the same three bridges 4 times, and found a helpful bill-board map, we wearily reached home at about 11.0 pm. It had been  a long day!

Well, a lot has been happening since my last post – and as is always the case, if you do not stick to a routine, before you know it you are in a shambles. And that is pretty much the way it is at the moment, Since the last post in Holland we have moved down through Belgium, got stuck in the mother of all traffic jams in Antwerp, caught the ferry from Ostend to Ramsgate, picked up Linda from Heath Row, over-nighted in Brighton and have then scurried Westward, spending some delightful time with long-lost ‘rellies’ and then Westward again. We are now in Cornwall and tomorrow head off to the Eden project and then on to Land’s end.

Somehow spare time to sit down and put finger to keys has been in short supply and time has just flown by. Many a picture has been taken en route, so maybe a few highlights will serve to give you some idea of what has been going on.

The traffic jam outside Antwerp was a sorry example of poor planning/communications. We drove up to the back of stationary cars, wondering why the hold-up. There was no apparent diversion in place: we were surrounded by truckies and if anyone would know what was going on, it would be them.  But there we were, stuck in bewildered stagnation – for seven hours!

And when we did finally drive through the cause of all the problems – a 4-lane tunnel shut down to a single lane, with a 4-lane and then 2-lane highway converging on it – there was not a sign of any work being done, Just cones closing off 3 lanes. We  were not too amused – nor were the 8 kids who had to endure stoically.

The trip across the Channel was very pleasant with a calm sea under a warm and sunny sky.

Nipping out of Ramsgate we shot through to Canterbury with Rach at the wheel, re-programming her brain to LH driving but now  sitting in the ‘wrong’ side of the Van. Just to test her adaptation progress she almost immediately had to negotiate a very fat camel through the eye of the proverbial needle in Canterbury! The narrow town gate into Canterbury was a real challenge, with just a whisker’s clearance either side of the mirrors.

From Canterbury (not possible  to get a good look at the cathedral due to lack of time and parking spots for the vans) we  headed further west and south. This was the day to pick up Linda from the airport and this involved some very tricky moves. Due to London’s anti-pollution regulations, we were not able to get to Heath Row with our aging vehicles. The answer was for me to be dropped off at Maidstone railway station, take the train to London,

 get a Tube from one London station to another, and then catch the connecting train to Heath Row. After which I would meet up with Linda and catch the Coach down to Brighton! Where the two vans would be waiting for us, having driven on while I did my train thing. Amazingly it all went without a hitch and connections clicked into place most conveniently. A couple of text messages in Brighton and we were all re-united! Amazing. Poor Linda had been travelling for well over 24hours and was decidedly groggy at the end of it all.  We were allowed to park on the Esplanade in Brighton, for Free, so that was most helpful.

The next day we were off again, and went on to visit a cousin of mine.

As it turned out, he had alerted several other cousins and rellies of our coming and so we had a very pleasant re-union.  We had asked them to try and find us somewhere to park the vans over-night, and there had been some encouraging talk of using the field of a friend. As it turned out, one of the rellies happened to be living in part of a Country manor and said there was heaps of room in the grounds for our vans.

What an understatement – and what a magical place that was!

The Manor had been converted internally into about 10 individual homes and our friends had the carriage house and stables –beautifully remodeled on the inside.

We all had the time of our lives there and we were all very sorry to leave.

The next day Cousin took the opportunity to show us around  Winchester Cathedral. Very different from the ornate cathedrals of Europe but a huge and magnificent building none-the-less.

Afterwards we went on, ever-westward and ending up in another cathedral city, Salisbury. It was a long drive, the streets impossibly narrow,

and our planned stop-over failed to materialize, and so we had to cast about for somewhere to park our vans for the night. It sounds quite vagabond-ish but we always park in legal over-night parking spots so it works out ok. Joist sometimes it takes a while to find a spot. Of course we like to stay in a place where there are all the camp facilities but they are not always available where we stop, and besides, some are not good value for money, and we choose to avoid them.

Onwards still from Salisbury via Stonehenge

to a lovely Cornish fishing port, Looe.

I remembered staying in Looe on more than one cycle tour, back in the  days of my youth. Physically the town has changed little in the intervening 60 years or so,

but inevitably, the march of Tourism has stamped its mark on the place, and it has lost some of its old-world charm. It is still a very pretty place, and we got to be the guest of a lady who owns a property high on the hills above Looe. We had a million-dollar view and all the facilities we needed.

The next day we had a long leisurely walk around Looe and had Cornwall’s famous Pasties for lunch. The last time I had a Cornish Pasty was on one of the afore-mentioned bike tours. On that occasion, the contents must have been ‘off; because I remember bringing the lot back up in the middle of the night! I’m pleased to report that trhis time the pasty was delicious – and stayed where it belonged!  After our walk we climbed back in the vans and we continued our westward flight, this time as far as St Austell. Again we found ourselves  in an overnight parking area.

We have galloped through most of the western counties and today we have gone about as fur as we can go – we are at Land’s End. The countryside has been quite beautiful

and the patch-work fields in various shades of green and yellow, divided up by hedge-rows, have a unique charm: so different from the huge paddocks and rolling pasture land of NZ. The only draw-back has been the incredible narrowness of the roads.

 Once off the main highways we found ourselves driving down lanes banked on both sides by truck0high hedges and trees, and with scarcely room for one vehicle. Passing is quite impossible in those cases and we quite often found ourselves at a standstill, wedged into the hedge on the side of the road as a car passed by, or waiting while someone backed a long way down the road to find a spot where we could pass. I had forgotten just how narrow these lanes are – and they a re a real stress factor for the drivers. All credit and heartfelt thanks goes to them.

Before we started off for Land’s End, Linda & I stole a few hours and took ourselves off to visit the Eden Project: an amazing project – transforming the ugly scar that remained after years of excavating for China Clay. Now it houses some enormous, futuristic ‘bubble’ structures that are environmentally controlled.

 In one are tropical plants, and Mediterranean plants in another.

 The scar has been terraced and planted to produce a truly delightful environment.

Land’s end is a picture: here we are high on a high hill overlooking a sandy beach,

the Atlantic gently rolling in under a blue sky, the green fields rolling away into the distance. We have found a great camp park, and  all is well!

After ‘flirting’ with the borders of various countries while travelling through Germany, we have finally said goodbye to the Reich. Although yesterday’s stopover was actually right on the border between Germany  and Holland– it ran smack through the middle of the little town of Dinxsperlo. (the yellow markers are the border)

Dinxperlo gave me my first real taste of a Dutch town. It was not a big place; small and  cute. It was impossibly neat and tidy. Not just the odd street, but every street we walked down or drove past: neatly clipped hedges, immaculately groomed shrubs and mass-plantings in pocket-handkerchief front gardens; large picture-windows in every house, looking out on to the street, and each one displaying a precise arrangement of flowers or pottery or lace-work etc.

We saw  interesting signs of spring here too, with new growth glowing bright green against the previous season’s more mature shades. We  saw pine-cones looking like Christmas decorations on one of the garden shrubs.

Every home looked as if it were expecting a visit from the Queen, and I came to the conclusion that this tidiness must be built in to the national psyche.

We were fortunate in Dinxperlo: when we arrived we discovered that the designated parking area was closed and so we cautiously nosed our way down the street and found another parking area, attached to the same large sports complex. It had been raining most of the day, and as we edged our way back into dripping trees a man on a bike, wearing size 15 clogs, came along and told us we were not allowed to park there. Our hearts were sinking when he advised us, ‘but you can park just out there’ What a relief. And the timing turned out to be just in  time: no sooner had we got ourselves wriggled into position than this quiet parking lot suddenly became inundated with cars. The reason soon became apparent: group after group of young kids and youths came marching down the street, chanting slogans and carrying banners. It was obviously a festival/rally of some sort and it seemed that the whole town had turned up to  cheer them on.

And at least half the town arrived on bikes. I have never seen so many ordinary commuter-style bikes in one place before. We took a walk down the street while the people were milling about and I found it interesting, looking at the Dutch bikes. Being a keen biker myself I am always interested to see what other countries are doing with bikes. The Dutch have the advantage of living in a dead flat country. Boring it may well be, but it sure makes for easy cycling! With  no hills to contend with, the Dutch have developed the ultimate in commuter –biking comfort. Weight is obviously of no concern, although there are many aluminium framed bikes to be seen. All have sturdy mudguards, stylish chain protectors, streamlined built-in headlights, dynamo hubs, sturdy carriers and panniers, elaborate handlebar configurations and often 8-speed hub gears. (electric power-assisted bikes are also popular – but they are not cheap – overE1000)

All riders adopt an extreme upright position with backs ramrod straight and at 90 deg to the road, consequently handlebars are mounted well above saddle height. So cycling is a dignified and sedate business, and one sees all manner of people riding: workers in ordinary garb, bankers in pin-striped suits, mothers with kids in a baby seat at the back, (or in a tow-along carriage), ladies in high heels and snazzy hair-do’s, and everyone in between. The verdict: in Holland cycling is universal.

And the layout of the streets confirm this: a wide clearly-marked bike lane down either side of the street with a narrow strip left in the middle for 2-way traffic! Cyclists cruise with no fear for cars – they know cars will always politely give way to them. Incredible!

Dinxperlo has two features that make it unusual. The first is that the town actually straddles the border between Germany and Holland: it has a foot in each country. Ironically it has two supermarkets, almost opposite each other. Oneisin Germany and the otherin Holland. Although all prices are in Euros, the pricing structures are different. For instance, milk in Germany is almost half the price of milk over the road, in Holland! The border passes down the main street and a row of yellow diamonds on the road, show you which country yoiu happen to be in.

The other claim to fame is Dinxperlo’s ‘Smallest Church in Europe’ This is a really neat little church, about 8×6 metres in size. How or why it was built was not clear, but it appeared that the church was still in use, I imagine a congregation of 6 plus a preacher, would fill it nicely.

The next day we moved further north to a little town called Burgen. (from where  I am writing this) Burgen is ‘Mixture as before’ – tidy streets and houses and neat little garden plots.

We are parked on the side of a marina connected to the canal/dyke system. This is a million-dollar spot: we are right next to the jetty and watch the coming and going of various launches and yachts.

Just around the corner is the canal proper and on it ply the same massive barge-like traders that we saw all the time on the Rhine. Behind us is a large grassed area with a kids playground. The town itself is just 5-10 mins walk away so everything is dandy. Unfortunately the rain is chasing us at the moment and so our activities have been a bit restricted. However the kids have had a good time on the playground and this afternoon we all went for a walk to explore the town.

We found a colourful rack of clogs, which confirmed that we were indeed in Holland.

On our return we made a  close inspection of a couple of 2nd hand folding bikes that were sitting outside the harbour-master’s office. We have found our two old clunkers so handy that we have been keeping an eye open for more bargains to add to the stable. A thorough test-ride on each bike plus a run through on the folding action indicated that these bikes were in fair condition for their age. He wanted E45 for one and E35 for the other. Total E80. Without prompting he said we could have the two for E75. After some discussion among ourselves, and after testing the bikes, Jgirl14 made him an offer of E70 for the two. After about 4 secs hesitation he accepted, so now we have 4 bikes and a baby-carrier in our stable!The older kids are very excited to be getting back on wheels. I can’t see us acquiring any more, but this will mean that the older ones can get further afield in their exploring of an area.

By the way while in the town this morning (on a lone stroll) I got myself a desperately-needed haircut. Due to a slight mis-understanding of meaning, I ended up with a no.2 all over. Talk about ‘lost in translation’! However, the lass that sheared me was very pleasant and took about an hour to perform the operation – much better value than my recent cataract operation! The haircut was so severe that after Tgirl5 inspected me closely, she said to me, “I know you are still Grandpa because I recognise your blue jacket”! (even my son was prompted to comment that I look considerably better with longer hair)

We have had a really shivery few days, just lately. Temperatures dropped to a frigid 11 degrees today and what added to the discomfort was the rain. It’s rained solidly today and so we have used the day to move further north and  to do some more hunting for small bits and pieces for the vans.  Driving in the rain is never much fun, and today was no exception. However we finished the day with  a brilliant beef curry and rice, which warmed up  everyone’s cockles.

But in spite of the recent cool temperatures, we have enjoyed exploring some magical spots along the way. We are still hugging the Rheine – a brilliant road follows its course very closely and the last couple of days have been exceptional. Around every bend in the road the eye is greeted with another castle, either perched on a hill, or some remains looming against the road itself.

We passed through many picturesque small townships, and across the river on the other side we saw neat and tidy ‘story-book’ villages nestled on the banks.

Countless vineyards cascaded down the steep slopes of the hills behind the villages – making the scenery almost impossibly beautiful.

As good fortune would have it, we came across a big parking area on the river side, just opposite an interesting-looking town.

We stopped, intending to stretch the legs before moving on, but as it turned out, we stopped and stayed for the night. This gave us the chance to have a really leisurely walk around the town – Bacharach by name. It took us completely by surprise, as if you suddenly strolled onto an historic film set. But there was nothing artificial about this 5-600 years old town and it was buzzing with ordinary life. (we even bought a couple of cheap camp chairs there)

We parked overnight on the banks of the Rheine and got away in the morning to continue our feast of historic buildings.

We finally came across an interesting castle set high on a hill,

and managed to find a spot to park the two vans. (always a bit of a limiting factor when wanting to stop somewhere)

We walked up the steep path and came upon the notice “closed for renovations until 2011.” (believe me at least half of  Germany is being renovated. Heaps of the castles and stately homes are being renovated and countless 100’s of kilometers of autobahn and highway are being ripped up and re-made. Not to mention the bridges that have been closed or partially closed. We know – we have experienced most of it!)) Well we only had an hour or two so could not wait for the Grand re-Opening. Nevertheless the notice advised that you could still get up to the castle terrace – it was the interior that was totally closed.  So on we went. What a fascinating place!

I must apologise if you are getting sick of castles and ancient towns. I thought I would, myself, but surprisingly I continue to be amazed at the creativity of MAN. We may know more today, but we are certainly no smarter than our ancestors!

Here  we are in a Womo park virtually on the banks of the Rheine.

The sun is shining, there is a gentle breeze and it’s about 25C. Very nice. The owner of this park ( a no-nonsense but pleasant enough lady) runs a very tight ship. The place is well laid out and kept in immaculate condition.

We have everything we need here: fresh water; somewhere to dump our toilet tanks and our ‘grey water’ ; a washing machine and the internet available (for a price) on wi-fi. No toilet block or showers but we have those on board, so no worries.

We don’t always have it this good. If it is getting late in the day and we still have not found the park that was supposed to be ‘there’ we head for a parking lay-bye on the autobahn or a quiet free-parking zone by a park somewhere. But even that is not bad – and the cost is a lot less than booking in to a flash holiday park for the night.

But as I said, this place is situated close to the banks of the Rheine so while Rob and Jgirl14 took the bikes , baskets and back-packs for a 4km shopping trip into Bingham,

 and while the other kids were either doing math’s, drawing or just playing – I went for a quiet stroll down to the river.

The Rheine is one big river. Here we are, several hundred kms inland and the river must be at least 1/2  km wide. Not only wide but deep: some seriously large shipping can be seen cruising up and down. A mixture of touristy sight-seeing boats and some very large barge-like ships carrying all manner of things.

Which prompts a thought: this nation certainly uses every type of transport available – and all seem to be fully patronised. At this camp  we are also close to a rail system – 3 lines pass by – and the frequency of passing  trains is astounding. While I was out on a 1/2 hr stroll by the lines, at least 5 trains went by – 12 coach passenger trains and a series of 2, 4 and 6 coach commuter-type trains. Goods trains we hear going past in the night. All, I might say, gliding smoothly over smooth tracks at great speed. On the river, large boats haul goods and people. On the roads huge truck rigs roar along in a seemingly endless procession. (and at Rest stops it is not unusual to see 20 or more trucks parked). Any gaps the trucks leave on the road are filled with cars – and on the autobahns these can be travelling at up to 130kmph! Motor homes are most prolific – there must be 1000’s of them on the roads. And the road network is really impressive and generally in excellent condition. I don’t doubt that the airlines are busy too. It makes NZ’s pathetic efforts seem ridiculous.

Another significant characteristic we have noticed is the natural tidiness of the German people. Probably some Germans would laugh at the notion, but to a Kiwi it is most noticeable. ALL the houses we have seen, in villages and cities, have been well-kept with neat and tidy gardens, flower-boxes etc. Most seemed to be in good condition and those that are not are being renovated! The streets are clean. The shops are neat and tidy. The people in the street all seem to be in their Sunday-best. The occasional jack-booted tattoo-ed person, or the greasy long-haired youth are a rarity. Body-piercing is not common, but bushy moustaches and beer-pots are ‘in’. All the vans in our park are immaculate (and on average the cost would be in the E45k-E90k range) and people sit around at night in their snazzy outdoor furniture settings. Really this is a picture of an affluent, contented people who like to do everything ‘right’ and have the ‘right’ things to do it with. An example ; I bought some washing powder the other day. It was one of a vast  array of choices in the clothes washing/soap powder aisle. I picked one of the most economical, with pictures of shirts,sheets and a blow-up of a mesh of some sort. Looked ok to me so I bought it. (and have used it for hand washing stuff quite successfully) When I took the packet over to the wash-house today the proprietor would not let me use it in his machine. We eventually established that this was a powder for washing net curtains only. Now why would you need a special-purpose detergent for net curtains? They probably have a special one for socks too, but I did not go looking for that. But the Germans seem to have a love-affair with Rules and Regulations and happily obey them all, VERY different from the Kiwi attitude!

German road signage is a language you must learn as you are learning to walk. There is a sign for every conceivable situation on the road and a sign that tells you when the regulation is applicable and another sign to tell you when it is not, There is a sign to tell you the name of the place when you enter it and another (the name with a red cross through it) to tell you that you have left. They do not like the NZ style use of yellow lines on the road – so simple to install and to observe but have signs for no stopping, no overtaking, no parking this side, or that side, or both sides etc etc. But motorists are incredibly polite and safe drivers. They always seem to give way to pedestrians, cyclists and merging traffic. I haven’t seen a fist  (or finger) raised in anger but have always encountered polite consideration from drivers. It has certainly lessened the stress of our introduction to driving vans in Europe.

Well today I tried out another aspect of German culture-the breakfast. When I set off on a quiet walk this morning I had no intention of having another breakfast. But as I walked past a small cafe right on the banks of the river, and observed how  pleasant it seemed to stop and have a coffee in the sun, I went and checked the menu. I had been told that Germans love their sausage or salami for breakfast and sure enough here on the menu was a variety of sausages on offer, served with roll or chips. I ordered the roll with a beef sausage and a cup of coffee, The coffee came first, with 2 little pots of creamy milk, 2 wrapped lumps of sugar and a small biscuit, also wrapped. Shortly after, my sausage and roll was ready – served with generous dollop of mild mustard. A crisp, crunchy roll and a spicy sausage about 8 inches long! Tucking into that with the sun on my back and the Rheine spread out before me – castles sitting on the hillside across the water – was a really enjoyable experience.

The German breakfast met with my approval! But maybe not every morning – or I may start to  get that contented roly-poly look that so many Germans have!

-place names, not a company of solicitors.

We have been travelling through some delightful German countryside for the past few days and have seen a veritable kaleidoscope of cathedrals, castles, quaint old towns and peaceful parks and gardens.

We have also been tested with our driving skills – taking our ‘Vomos’ into places where none have gone before.

Rach had the toughest test the other day – we were hoping to stay in Gothenburg and were trawling around this ancient city designed for horse and cart, looking for the Van park. We (Rach driving) ended up crawling up and down the side of the hill, winding through impossibly narrow streets, doing hill starts etc and finding absolutely nowhere to park.

Where the streets were wider, they had ripped up half of the road just to keep you on your toes. Rach  (following Rob, driving the bigger vehicle) passed the Stage 4 test in great style. Disappointingly, we had to leave Gothenburg unexplored. The following day I had a ‘grade 3’ test when closed roads forced us to take to some back-country roads through some narrow village streets plus a session of reversing etc. So we are both getting more comfortable with the beast. Meanwhile Rob has been nibbling at the repairs and the damage is getting less evident each day.

All of which has nothing to do with the heading but needed reporting anyway.

Rather than spell out what each picture is, I thought I would just give you a selection of views. We have been inside some incredibly ornate cathedrals and churches.

The carvings, sculptures, statues and murals have been quite mind-blowing.

Although no doubt all done to the glory of God, I have uneasy thoughts about who paid for all this and how the raising of money glorified our God. Certainly a very far cry from the school hall where our church meets. But just looking at the magnificence of the buildings, one cant help but marvel at the workmanship of 3-500 years ago.

The kids found a spidery playground in the cathedral grounds,  

much to their liking and as we relaxed and had our lunch nearby, we listened to the strains of an Organ-grinder duo. Closer inspection of the music-makers led to some of the kids (including Rob) being allowed to have a swing on the handle.

 Also in the cathedral grounds we found a musician playing softly on a set of Vibraphones. Nearby a ‘statue-man’ posed as steady as a rock. All in the dappled sunlight filtering through huge chestnut trees. A tranquil setting that was a real treat.

Also on the fun side we came across a large grill in a town square which was blasting air upwards. An exhaust from who knows what. But it gave the kids some fun, feeling themselves ballooning up in the strong draught as they stood over the grill.

Another interesting few days…….

The day broke cloudy and cold – a brisk wind blowing which after a while, chilled to the bone. At least it chilled this old codger’s bones and I think a few more of the party were none too warm.

We had determined to take a hike from our van park in Kehl (which is in Germany) to Strasbourg, (which is in France) just a ‘short walk’ after crossing the Rhine, which at this point forms the border between the two countries. We packed a lunch, determined to not let the weather deter us, and off we went.

This happens to be a most well-endowed little township (maybe it is a city?) and where we were staying, we were right next to beautiful river-side parks and gardens, with copious sporting facilities and well-equipped children’s playgrounds. At the start of the walk one of the kids would ask “can we go to the playground?” but always came back the answer –“on the way home – let’s get to where we are going first”

On we walked, past a delightful Biblical garden – beautifully set out to depict important events in Biblical history in granite sculptures and appropriate plantings,

On and over one of the most ingenious and genuinely artistic bits of bridge engineering I have seen,

Past a circus and then a school for budding circus performers; still no sign of Strasbourg, and we were a little hesitant as to which direction to take next. Time to try out the 65-year-old French rusting away in the grey cells: ‘pardon m’sieur, mais parlez-vous l’anglais?” “Non!” came back the less-than-encouraging response. However after I manfully struggled on to enquire the way to the old Town, and the guy took pity on me and made it known that the Old Town was that-away and it would be a 40 minute walk. After a brief conference, we decided to press on, leaving the comfort of parks and circuses and hitting the hard pavements.

Eventually we came to a park and here was the Citadel – not in the Old Town but getting closer (so we thought) Anyway, a children’s playground, a park bench, and it was time to have a lunch break. Pity about that freezing wind……

Spying a lady on a park bench, and emboldened by my success(?) on the previous occasion I sallied forth to ask the lady in my best French if she could direct us to the old town. Quickly she established that she and her husband (who had a map but had gone for a walk) were  German, and her English was better than my French! But I did learn that our objective was still at least 1/2 hour’s walk distant. We had determined that we would do it, and when the friendly husband turned up with his map it enabled us to set our course once more.

Well eventually we did reach Strasbourg Old Town – and it really was worth the effort, a charming, graceful  , character-filled town that delighted us all.

In addition it had the most amazing cathedral that enthralled all but the littlest among us.

After that we decided that having already walked about 12km, we would catch a bus/tram or train back towards our home base. Diligent study of some excellent maps at the tram stop showed that we could catch a tram to the nearest bus stop. We were delighted: the trams and buses had impressed us with their swish styling

and I for one was itching to  take a ride in one (my legs were feeling it too!) We  discovered that we could get a group ticket qt reduced cost and joyfully advanced on the ticket-machine. Frustration! The machines only accept coins – and we needed 10 Euros. Off I  went to the nearest shop – a pharmacy- to get some coins. Explaining to the lady that I required some ‘medecin pour le mal de tete’ I then added that I would like some Euro coins to pay  for le Tram! She evidently understood my tortured words for the transaction was completed to everyone’s satisfaction and I came back with a pocket full of Euro pieces.

So away we went on the Super-Tram. More like a train than a tram, and when it dived into a tunnel, it just rocketted along-faster than a speeding bullet!

To add to the interest. we found ourselves getting off at Strasbourg’s main railway station –a really impressive bit of architecture,

Then to the bus. ‘Ou se trouve l’autobus nombre deux? I asked a bus driver. ‘La – devant vous’! and there it was right next to the bus stop where we were standing!

A good bus ride and we were back at the circus – still a long walk thorough the parks and over the bridge but these kids have an endless supply of energy and when we got to the playground they had a ball.

While Mum and Dad and J14 went back to the vans to prepare dinner I kept watch on the rest. After 1/2 hour we finished off the day’s activities by climbing the 199 steps up a magnificent wooden viewing tower to take a bird’s-eye view of our neighbourhhood. By the end of the day the sun had finally broken through and it looked beautiful.

A 14km walk – a bunch of exercise – lots of interesting things to see and do, A good day was had by all.