Month: August 2017

Brissac-Quince, Loire Valley, France

/ Nell / 1 Comment

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Woke up to a cold day with heavy cloud and rain. After a late start, we hit the road, destination Domaine de L’Etang, a campsite just outside Brissac-Quince, Near Angers in the Loire Valley, a distance of about 160 miles. I was driving today, and maybe that was a bad omen because it turned into an epic fail day. If it was a movie, it would be arthouse and nobody would really enjoy it.

Act 1, we failed to recognise we were almost out of fuel until the dashboard light came on, which was just after we’d passed a petrol station. As we drove on, the fuel guage was edging towards zero and the nearest petrol station showing on the Satnav was 15 kilometres away. So we decided to come off the road and hit a town. Cue tense drive around a deserted town with no garage in sight. Just as we were resigning ourselves to breakdown, a petrol station icon started to flash on the Satnav – distance 2 miles. Would it be open? Would we make it? The answer was yes! We heaved a sigh of relief and filled our thirsty tank full to the brim.

Act Two, we took a tour of a neighbouring supermarket to stock up on items we had failed to bring. Corkscrew, knife, bread knife and lighter to name a few.

Act Three, on the way back to the payage, I failed to remember that on a roundabout, traffic approaches from the left side. David tried to slam on the brake but unfortunately he was in the passenger seat of the van so it did no good. No impact occurred but nerves were slightly further frayed.

Act Four, we struggled to find the campsite, taking a detour into a gypsy encampment. When we arrived, the rain was unrelenting. After setting up camp, we headed straight to the bar, expecting to find a bit of warmth and bonhomie. Alas, it was a cold and windswept tent with no one in it. We took our drinks in ‘the games room’, which would have been okay if we’d had any change for the pool table.

Act 5. We were tucked up in bed by nine o clock, resolving to do better tomorrow!

 

The Menhirs of Carnac, Brittany

/ Nell / 2 Comments

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So today was the big day. The van was already loaded, so all we had to do was climb out of bed and stagger out into the sunlight to catch the ferry to Cherbourg.

I had a touch of ferry fear, as the last crossing I did was rough and I felt nauseous the whole way, so I’d popped a couple of travel sickness pills – but my fears were unfounded! The sea was calm and still. Out on deck, people were lounging around in deckchairs topping up their tans.  It seemed rude not to join them.

Back on the road, only suddenly everyone was driving on the right! David volunteered to drive the first stint. Maybe it was the travel sickness tablets, maybe it was the hot sun, but I fell into a sort of coma. As a result, I have nothing to report about the journey. I did notice a few vestiges of the Second World War, a blown up fortress as we came into the Port, an old airfield littered with bits of planes and military junk, but that was about it.

The chosen destination for day 1 was Carnac. David was keen to see The Stones – no, not the band, the prehistoric stones. The French equivalent of Stonehenge. He has pleasant memories of seeing them as a kid but the family was just passing through to get somewhere else and so it was a case of  “now you see em,  now you don’t.” He’s been wanting to go back ever since.  It was a long drive and we kept on diverting so we were tempted to stop somewhere closer and head over the next day. But in the end we pressed on and happened across a modest little campsite called Kerabus. I’m so glad we did.

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After setting up camp, we looked at the campsite map, and realised we were only a few hundred meters from the stones. So after knocking back a gin and tonic and devouring some prawns and baguette (real French bread is soooo good!)  , we set off to track them down. We found ourselves on a footpath through a pine woods and then it opened out into a field and bingo! We were walking alongside the Menhirs. I won’t say amongst them as sadly there was a low fence.

There were hundreds of them. (I read later that there are close to 3,000). The first ones we saw were only about a meter high, sticking out of the ground and surrounded by heather and gorse and grasses. We crossed a road, and there was another huge field full. In places they seemed to be in rows. In others, it looked more like circles. As we went on, we noticed the stones were getting bigger and bigger. And so were our gin-fuelled speculations.

What did it all mean?  We hadn’t read any guidebooks, all we knew was that they were built in Megalithic times, perhaps as long ago as 4.000 years.  Some of them were tall and pointy, like hands reaching for the sky, some looked like human faces, others like birds or animals.

Perhaps they were commemorative stones for kindred killed in battle, a bit like gravestones? Perhaps they were a map of the stars? Perhaps they represented a kind of spiritual journey from the little stones at one end to the massive great big ones at the other?  Or perhaps they were just art? Some of them would have given Henry Moore a run for his money.

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Anyway, we loved seeing them. I was so pleased that we went out straight away as it was a beautiful evening. and the next morning we woke to find it cold, wet and windy.  My mother always told me to “do it now”.  I think you were right, mum!

What will we leave behind us on this earth for people to marvel at in 4.000 years? Or even 400?

I think I’d better leave it there!

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Swanage Dorset, VW T5 adventure

/ Nell / 1 Comment

Once upon a time there were a couple of middle aged marrieds called Nell and Dave who decided to turn their back on the mortgage, the nine to five and the gentle decline into old age and to go on an excellent adventure!  “What about the rest of the kids, the parents, the dog?” I hear you say, but the kids are all over 18 and thankfully the parents seem to be doing okay, and we’re not short of offers to look after the dog, so we’re going to be selfish and do this thing. You only live once, Carpe Diem, live adventurously and so on.

So, in just over a week we set off on the first leg of our Senior Gap Year.  That’s what the Americans call it, a  “Senior Gap Year”. And in the absence of another, more British phrase, that’s what we’re calling it. At about five in the morning on 29 August we’ll climb into our (VW T5 short wheel base) campervan and head for the 8:30 ferry from Poole to Cherbourg. After that, we’ll be bumbling about France and Italy for about six weeks.

So this week, our mission has been to get the van ready.  We already have a kitchen conversion with two hobs and a fridge. In addition we decided to:

  1. Replace the weedy tyres with sexy, chunky new ones.
  2. Add a pop top so that we can stand up in the van – and get some ventilation going on those blistering hot days.
  3. Add an awning to give us shade on those blistering hot days (notice a theme here? The weather in the UK has been rubbish this August and we’re both craving sun)
  4. Purchase dayglo jackets, a warning triangle and spare light bulbs to keep on the right side of the Gendarmes.
  5. Take everything out the van, clean the van, then put everything back in better.  And last but not least….
  6. Install a kick-ass stereo with mahoosive subwoofers under the front seat.

And then on the seventh day, we stood back and saw that it was good. Or was it…? What was that strange whining noise? It wasn’t there before. Quick search of the van. Unable to find the source. Maybe we’ll just leave it. But just imagine how annoying that whining would become as we drive through France, even if we could drown it out with the kiss-ass stereo. And how even more annoying when you’re trying to sleep. So today we –

7. Bought a replacement Zig-zag unit. What is a Zig-zag unit? I have no idea, but thankfully, Dave does. And hopefully, he knows how to replace it. And hopefully, replacing it will stop the annoying whine.

Hopefully.