By Melissa Shaw
What a funny prospect that two similar vessels can share a little rivalry? Canal boats and campervans share the same desire of slow travel. The only difference is one being condemned to the water, the other to land. Each living space has to be tailored to suit the needs of these long distance travellers, with many of the appliances, equipment and running gear much the same as one another. Here we are pulling into a camping-car stop that is well signposted from the main road. We later discovered that that this car park is also advertised within the Camperstop book which is well known by most overlanders and has been useful at times (Facile Media, 2015: Motorhome Guide Camperstop Europe). It is situated along a canal and popular mooring area for boats. The canal services offer hot running showers, toilets cubicles, a wifi connection and piped running water. Perfect for a freshen up! Of course only if you have a mooring, and with a boat. Damn! Many boat owners peered over with curiosity at our 'propeller like' tow bar cap, scratching their heads wondering if we are actually amphibious. As we admired the collection of big and small boats, some in the water and some out we met a lovely couple Sandra and Dave from our home country. They kindly offered us a chance to use their mooring advantage to use the splendid facilities. Including the use of their water tap, which otherwise camping-cars have to pay per litre. Later we enjoyed the couple's company on their boat as we 'chin wagged' late into the evening about all things, boats, land rovers, past/present and future adventures, their keen cycling and camping expeditions and our of course our families back home. We also had the pleasure of a tour around their very cosy and spacious boat, that gently rocked us from side to side on the canal. This brought many fond memories flooding back, as I remember when my Grandad owned a beautiful narrow boat, called Jolene. My sister and I spent many summer vacations touring the canals and rivers of Yorkshire, operating the locks, driving the boat, and meeting lots of other fellow boat owners pottering along the water ways. I recall, 'Rosie and Jim' was also a favourite television program for us to watch. The two rag dolls would also enjoy the experience of slow travel and exploring the different scenery and mooring stops along their travels. We too had Rosie and Jim rag dolls, which would sit comfortably in a wicker chair at the entrance of the boat. Saying our farewells in the morning, as they puttered off in one direction along the water ways, we filled up the water tank using their tap (much to some other boat owners disgust as many resent camper vans being near the moorings) before leaving on land in the other direction.
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By Ben Ade
In order to give France a reasonably good explore we stayed for 3 weeks this time. Seeing much of the South and Central areas rather than the Western counties which were seen a few months back. Quite a challenge for our chosen form of travel, due to the obvious lack of wild spaces and intensive land development throughout. The challenge was happily accepted and completed with success however. An old railway from Paris to Montceau was one place we found to stop for a few days. This line remains open but has been replaced by a faster line elsewhere so has sat dormant for many years. An overgrown service track leading through woods took us next to the rails and a peaceful spot, a storm was a brewing but the rain was still holding off. Deep within these beautiful woodlands we found an old log cabin structure, so well overgrown that we had already walked past it twice without spotting it! Hacking through the thick undergrowth and forming a path in, we entered the mystery structure. The most recent of many signatures found scrawled onto its walls were from 1993. Although much was rotten, the roof remained pretty well sealed, which was handy as the heavens now opened with force. The Land Rover makes bonny shelter from rain, but this forgotten cabin gave us loads of dry space to shelter and cook meals, maybe even enough room to swing a proverbial cat. These storms hung around, on another evening, further up the country, we experienced gale force winds, thunder/lightning and days of extreme rain. The roof tent puts up with it just fine, but it felt a bit like that film 'The Perfect Storm', as we watched mother nature have a major tantrum from the ship's porthole (bedroom window), swaying us around quite dramatically for many hours. Another nice area we visited was Cluny, this entire area long held a complete ban on violence of any kind, a few centuries ago. No firearms, weapons or violent behaviour were permitted. The ruling monks of the day expelled all who disobeyed. A great idea, monks seemed quite forward thinking and productive in centuries past, perhaps before they were distracted by brewing 'Buckfast' and similar drinks to pass time (for those who dont know, Buckfast is brewed for profit by monks in an English abbey, with very high caffeine content, strong alcohol, brown coloration and a taste to put hairs where you aint got 'em). Much time was also spent in and exploring six of the many national parks spread around the country and visible on the maps. France was possibly absent at the meeting which defined the concept and requirements of a national/natural park it seems. Nature aside, we found some areas to stop within or near these parks, using not a small dash of improvisation, as they are marginally less populated than other free camping options here. 'Kebab - A - Cheval', read the menu board inside a wee kebab shop in a sleepy town below Lyon, lunchtime and a junk food craving combined to bring us in here. There was also 'Steak - A Cheval', but this was considerably more expensive than said kebab. Many chicken, or poule, options were also available but I opted for the old horse kebab, partially out of curiosity but mainly as it was the cheapest meal on the board! The meat was quite chewy and greasy, with an inoffensive taste, edible but probably wont bother ordering that again. The talk of horse reminds me of another area we stopped in for a couple of days, the Camargue national park. Many will be familiar with the evocative images and write ups this place often receives. Herds of wild white horses, roaming the untamed salt marshes along with the pink flamingos and black bulls also famous in the area. The park itself consists of endless farms, growing Camargue rice and raising the renowned black cattle for tourist meals, along with the odd salt marsh and tourism based town. The white horses are present, but if you can find a single one which isn't branded or saddled, mostly looking very depressed and worn out, then I take my hat off to you. 'Promenade a cheval' read the endless roadside signage, each entrepreneur owning a large number of detained 'wild' horses for viewing and riding. They may even recommend a time to pay for that famous photo opportunity of horses running through the marshes, albeit them being herded back to the stables. The flamingos have been trained to feed at a 'bird sanctuary' surrounded by tall walls topped with barbed wire, rather than their native salt marshes which lie nearer the shore. You must now pay money if you wish to view these creatures, reluctant to support such an initiative we gave it a miss. Anyway, I digress, today we have found a surprisingly quiet camp. It is the rear car park of what appears to be a 'gentlemans club' of sorts, quite peaceful as its closed tonight. You just never know where the open road will take you, or leave you. By Melissa Shaw Leaving the humid marsh lands of the Camargue region, we are now northbound throughout the rest of France. Italy and Switzerland are only a small jump across the mountains from here. We will now explore the large farming areas and potential wild spaces of Provence.
"Private Property and Access Interdit" signposts are littered at every corner, field, fence and access point . Despite this tricky predicament, we managed to find an under used area alongside a quiet narrow road. It appears that our new garden of the evening could have been a turning point used by the forestry and farmers as well as a new stopping point for tourists to look out towards the lavender fields. After a little exploration we then found a much more private corner of ground just behind our current spot, that tucked us away from the hundreds of faces that stare with the traffic. Perfectly manicured rows of purple lavender fields make a refreshing change to the heavily farmed crop fields that we have seen. From a distance the elongated rows seem almost 'moss like' and soft to the touch. Close up, these delicate stems host a cluster of the most powerful lavender scent I have ever smelt as it circulated the surrounding air. The sun rose gently up over the mountain at 6.30am on a calm Thursday morning. At a snails pace, we chased the sunshine towards a picturesque lavender field to capture the 'golden hour' of light upon the purple blossoms. The farmers not long behind us, set to work cutting their fields of flowers, as we observe trailers embracing tonnes of lavender stacks passing by. On our wanderings, small piles of surplus lavender lay unwanted, left behind to rot. Waste not, want not! So I gathered a small bunch together to take back to the Land Rover. Out of a piece of clean recycled t-shirt I set about stitching a simple, small bag , complete with a drawstring (that was also recycled from a found toggle and shoelace at the Sierra Nevada ski slope back in Spain). Now filled with dried lavender flowers, it hangs within the roof tent bedroom to induce a wonderful dreamy nights sleep. The stems were also not wasted and weaved into a small egg shaped basket caressing more lavender blooms and placed in front of the air vents in the cab acting as a natural air freshener. On departure of Province, we stumbled upon a town fete, where we sampled lots of local delicacies of cheese, biscuites, sausages and also looked with awe at all the tempting lavender products including wines, honeys, beers, soaps, jewellery, basket work and so much more. To our surprise there was also stood a mobile stil that was on full demonstration distilling lavender water right here on the spot. By Ben Ade
The return to central Europe brought the return of a forgotten phenomenon, 'road rage'. It seems to be a hobby within France, among the many aggressive manoeuvres encountered on this day have been a dangerous overtaking by a stout, red-faced, elderly couple with their horn blaring and middle finger protruding proudly from the sunroof. Our enjoyable, safe and economic chosen speed of around 50mph seems to enrage the suicidal loons, possibly rushing home for afternoon wine swilling sessions. I also made the mistake of giving local radio another chance, it turns out they are still big fans of James Blunt here. So much so that he has new tracks released, keeping to his trademark, castrated choir boy style. Playing havoc with bats navigational senses I expect, but also perhaps a cause of some road rage? In Morocco, you may experience all manner of crazy overtaking manoeuvres and road hazards, but there was rarely ill feeling or misplaced aggression involved, which in turn minimizes stress involved. Spain and Portugal, may have plenty of insane drivers, but they seem to lack much of the bad attitude too. It is hard to explain but makes a huge difference. Driving with a bad attitude, exuding negative energy, creates stress for other road users and, more importantly, causes accidents. I believe it may also be mirrored by the new vehicle design and marketing plans, have you noticed how all manufacturers now focus on creating aggressive presence to cars and vans, front and back? Subliminal facial recognition has long been known within vehicle design, the obvious headlamps or tail lamps linking as eyes to a face, and personality, before we even think much into it. Gone are the happy, harmless and cheery faces of past car models, a sign of the times perhaps. There really is no need for this aggression behind the wheel, let off the go pedal a bit, collect your thoughts and consider the bigger picture. By Ben Ade Not all stops can be palm trees and beaches, as we well know by now. This dirt and litter strewn lay-by was penned in by a railway one side, motorway the other and main roads on remaining sides. There were, however, a couple of grubby concrete picnic benches, sprouting from beneath the fume choked trees, suggesting a more homely look. Despite the state of the lay-by or 'aire de repos', it had plenty of tired passers by, thankful of escaping the stress ridden main roads. Before setting up we helped a stranded man jumpstart his vehicle, thanking us and praising Kaerus the Land Rover, he trundled off, whilst cursing his new Iveco 4x4 which has given him no end of trouble. We then set about the usual evenings homemaking, freshened up with hot showers and put dinner on to cook. A new Transit camper van had just parked nearby, looking to settle for the evening. Like a breath of fresh air upon the space, the four member young family began by applying a crisp white tablecloth to one of the old picnic benches. Cleaning away the surrounding litter, then sitting down to a full multi course meal with much laughter and merriment. The cheery bunch later proceeded to mark an area in the ground and play outdoor boules for the remainder of that evening. A fantastic display of showing how any open space or land really can be whatever you make of it. The following morning arrived, the happy campers had left with the sunrise and we had new neighbours who had deposited themselves in front of Kaerus throughout the night. Rather than sleeping in their battered old Vauxhall, they were lying face down on the filthy ground outside. The lady partially awoke, enough to crawl back to the car, then seemingly unknowing of our presence, began administering class A drugs for a morning boost. The weathered man began to shuffle and then rose slowly, like a bear from winters hibernation, before following his partners actions. Now regaining basic human motor control, they looked towards us with vacant and grubby faces, plotting their next movements. Eager not to be involved in any way, we quickly packed up and continued our journey, directing a friendly wave towards the pair of lost souls. By Ben Ade The streets of Belgian towns have a great amount of artful decoration, such as the buildings pictured in the city of Mons. I have a nagging feeling we may have missed reports on a country somewhere? Anyway, Belgium was quite a charming wee place. We spent a couple of days in their lake district, taking long walks and exploring various interesting sites. Although Belgium technically forbids wild camping, they have plenty of provided areas to free camp and its people have a refreshingly friendly attitude. These lakes have just such a provision, lovely green fields with a track leading in, surrounded by woodland and fringing the shores of perfectly clear waters. The weather has been cooling recently, must be getting close to the familiar British Empire I suppose, although sunshine was still a plenty for the time being.
A particularly unusual vehicle was spotted the next day, appearing to be an entire canal boat fused to the road gear of an old bus, complete with a huge V8 engine which resonated a throaty growl. Thinking this to be an advertising machine of sorts and surely not water going, we watched it pull off the main road to park. Hold on, rather than slowing to park, the machine is speeding up and building revs in the direction of the huge lake! A loud crashing, splashing noise emanated as the coach length, road going boat hit water with force and two huge outboard motors engaged as it continued happily across the lake. We later learned that this cracking piece of engineering is known as 'Le Crocodile Rouge', and quite a popular tourist ferry. Another interesting fact about this country is they fit streetlights to most of the country lanes and main roads, not just within towns. These otherwise traditional lanes and roads make for pleasant driving with plenty of varied sights throughout. The country is, however, quite small so you can very easily drift into neighbouring EU lands without realising! By Ben Ade
After making the descent into Barcelona, we carefully navigated our way through the crowded network of streets. Passing such colourful sights as a stark naked woman performing slightly mental looking yoga on a busy pavement, whilst police and ambulance services attempted to bring an end to her performance. Parking was found on a residential street near Park Guell, bringing us now onto the subject of the cities much celebrated architect. Antoni Gaudi, 1852 - 1926, was an architect like no other. Pioneering many new ideas and breaking the strict, time worn regimes of common techniques. Rather than elaborate paperwork, he chose to create models of his build beforehand, which he could shape and contort to his minds design. As if from a fairytale, his buildings take on dream-like shapes and twists, always with a visually pleasing effect. Many projects were taken on throughout the country during his lifetime. The most well known are the Barcelonian installments, Park Guell and the Sagrada Familia cathedral. The park was going to be a self contained urban area, with markets, housing and recreational spaces. Although completed, its original purpose was never fulfilled, becoming more a visitor attraction of sorts. The intricate detailing of every last piece remains a wonder, skillful ironwork creations, innovative tiling work, mazes of paths and all spread with eye-popping colour combinations. The Cathedral remains unfinished to this day, with new additions constantly added. The continuations are kept as close as possible to Gaudis original visions and concepts. Quite difficult to describe the scale of this place, we were left in awe by its presence. Always a man of traditional religion, this influence shows in the detailed statues and reinactions of bible scenes which climb the towering spires. Stone animals of all descriptions climb and slither from corners or sills. Stained glass windows appear from seemingly impossible crevaces, whilst countless stone and coloured tile spires stretch for the heavens, their tips piercing stray clouds. Judging by the amounts of paying visitors to the park and cathedral, Barcelona's economy may depend almost entirely on the visions of this inspired man. In later life Gaudi took very little interest in his appearance or self, becoming entirely dedicated to the Sagrada Familia. Sadly he was hit by a tram and lost consiousness in the city, his shabby clothes and unkept appearance meant not a single passer by even stopped to help him. Eventually found by a worried friend on the search, the following day, his condition was now too far gone to recover, dying at age 74. Some more on Dali discoveries now. He bought a house/castle in the village of Pubol, primarily for his long term companion and muse, Gala, to reside in. We visited here whilst in the area. Dali was only permitted to visit by written invitation, just one of many notable points to their unusual relationship. There was a definite air of grandeure, but quirky rather than pompous. The castle still retains many of its medieval features and layout. The upstairs houses Galas huge collection of designer gowns and dresses, whilst the Piano room contains enormous wall hangings and murals. An interesting glass coffee table, with chicken legs, draws the eye to the surface. What I initially thought was an image below the glass turns out to be a hole below the table, viewing to the downstairs room and a complete stuffed white horse. The gardens offer refreshing fountains and pools along with numerous sculptures. Amongst these are the famous elephants, with stilted bird legs, complete with water spouting from their sky high trunks. A daily use car remains parked in the yard, an old Datsun 180b estate. In the garage a horse drawn carriage resides, along with Gala's Cadillac. When she died in 1982, aged 87, her body was transported to the castle in this car, parked still as it was that day. Her body is entombed in the downstairs crypt, a sombre place, overlooked by a scatter of statues, including a lifesize giraffe which stands eternally in a dark corner. Dali found life near impossible after her death, he moved from his home in Portaliggat to the Pubol castle to be near Gala, never returning to his beloved seaside property. Numerous suicide attempts were thwarted and after a fire broke out in his room, possibly self inflicted, he was housed in the theatre-museum in Figueres. Here under the watch of guardians he lived until his death in 1989, aged 84. Allegations of guardians forcing his hand to sign blank canvases and ledger papers in large amounts, during his final years of failing health, have led to later works attributed to Dali becoming scrutinized and viewed with suspicion. Although the crypt at Pubol has 2 caskets, his death bed wish was to be buried below the Museum in Figueres, which is where he now rests. We are grateful of the oppurtunity to step into the fantastical past worlds of these great minds, learning much on their inspirations and creations. Our travels shall now continue, soon crossing the open border to France, following the sun drenched coastline. By Ben Ade Our couple of weeks in Catalunya have been great, the country really is bursting with colour and individuality. Nowhere is this better demonstrated than in the artworks of Salvador Dali and architecture of Antoni Gaudi. Both men were born and raised here so we decided to spend some time exploring their past lives and legacies.
Dali, 1904-1989, was a very interesting character to say the least. Many people will be familiar with his numerous surrealist and modernist paintings, often filled with hidden stories and visual tricks. Commonly reproduced imagery includes his melting clocks and decorated, stilt legged elephants. He was also a keen showman, making several appearances in film, television and publications. The area he made home was on the Cap de Creus, a small fishing village, called Portaliggat, for the best part of 50 years. Rather than visiting the flashy museum in nearby Figueres, the town of his birth, we decided to book a reservation to his old home for a visit. To see the actual place in which the majority of his artworks were conceived and completed. No average home was this, converted from a row of fisherman's cottages, then joined together and floors added. All his prized possessions are still here, as left, so many oddities and antiquities he collected over years. The entry hall greets you with a stuffed polar bear, a gift from a friend apparently. A maze of rooms to explore then commences, including an extensive library and office. The bedroom has custom mirrors on the windows, installed to reflect the morning sun, he wanted to be among the first men to see it each day. A cage also sits, which housed crickets, the sound of which helped Dali sleep. Mannequins, taxidermy and imagery cover much of the wall space throughout, one room in particular is entirely covered with photographs of his acquaintances, family and magazine appearances, even including a selfie with Pablo Picasso! His studio was very impressive, still with two of his incomplete paintings, as he left them. A special pulley system fitted to the wall, enabled him to paint huge canvases. The Oval sitting room was designed for acoustics, although quite small and full of furnishings, any noises are instantaneously echoed back to you very loudly. Now ascending the stairs we reach the numerous exterior terraces, here the famous rooftop eggs make an appearance, along with many fantastic sculptures. The luxurious areas for dinner parties and also swimming pool, of phallic shape, are quite a sight. After the visit we camped, high up on the Cap de Creus peninsula, this is the Eastern most point in Spain. The rock formations here are quite awesome in themselves. Walking these shores, as Dali would many a time, we kept noticing areas instantly reminiscent of his paintings. Whether it be the lines of craggy cliffs which distort and discolour with the sunset, or the giant pumice like rocks all around, which appear as if melting and at times defying gravity. Spending the night here was just perfect, to complete the evening came a series of mysterious meteors/shooting stars plummeting down from the universe above, as we sat watching upon the cliffs, one glowing bright green before burning out just above the mountains. Of course highs are often balanced by lows of some kind. The next morning a local 'concerned citizen' decided to call the village policia. Seemingly worried about a vehicle camping near the shore, outside of the terribly uninspiring, highly overpriced, designated campsite down in the village, shock horror. Even though this was a small, general use public car park aimed at tourists, with no nearby houses whatsoever or signs indicating camping restrictions. Perhaps our far and distant presence slightly disturbed their spanning view of the cliffs from atop their hillside mansion or, more likely, we just dont conform to the narrow mind span of some residents. The friendly, smartly dressed policemen, overjoyed with a real call out, explained that they have to respond as it was a filed complaint, kindly escorting us 'down the nick' and actually issuing a fine for the highly criminal activity of...wait for it...camping. They then attempted to give us a small, recently captured, stray cat in a sturdy wooden box. This had obviously been last weeks big call out for the rugged boys in blue, all three members of staff had been on red alert and caring for said feline within the station since then. We politely declined the strange offer and left the odd village with haste. This was a handy reminder that central Europe and France is not far away, wild camping will likely have to be outwith public view or in designated car parks now, if to avoid the cold grasp of todays social convention. By Ben Ade On a night time stroll, as you do, I stopped to get a moonlit picture of a large monument upon a hill. Merely having time to set up the camera support, when suddenly from around a banking arrived a group of professional night walkers. Complete with walking poles and plethora of LED light attachments, one man stopped to look at the statue for a moment, head torch illuminating all. I just had time to dial in the numbers and hit the shutter before they strode off again at a pace which put my leisurly walks to shame.
By Melissa Shaw Costa Brava surprised us with it's beauty and abundance of interesting landscapes. Medieval towns and villages with breath-taking cathedrals dominate our approach. Tourists and locals share the squeeze down the narrow street passages. Traders demonstrate a stunning collection of ceramics and pottery within their workshops and stalls. Gentle hikes, along the rocky coves between Palamos and Platja d'Aro, tempt with a selection of postcard picture beaches. The ocean water is clear as glass, it's no surprise that scuba diving and snorkelling is a popular hobby here. During a day trip to Girona, we found that there are also many talented graffiti artists decorating the streets with colour and interesting designs. Farmers have also added a burst of colour to their fields. Stretching along roadsides and into the distance, sunflower fields can be seen in all their full flower glory. Alfalfa plants also join in the infusion, adding succulent hints of purple and green to the otherwise already harvested crop fields. One of the truly inspiring experiences that we had the joy to engage in was reuniting with Jakob, Margrit and friendly dog Chichi. We met them earlier in our travels through Andalucia, back in April. Like ourselves, they enjoy wild camping with their customised Land Rover Defender, designed by Jakob. We had made arrangements to catch up with them at their home within the Costa Brava region. I'm sure Kaerus was also keen to be reunited with her younger and slightly more slender friend too, the lovely black 90 station wagon. Planning to set up camp in their drive way for a night, the couple very kindly offered us the use of their self contained luxury apartment, complete with the use of private swimming pool. Having been on the road and camping for over four months, we have adjusted well to sleeping in our cosy bed in the sky. However, we were very grateful to lie upon a 'real' double bed! We felt like royalty for a few days and nights, having access to a bathroom with a shower and a flushing toilet too. The amazement of so much space in the kitchen area also made my dreams come true...this calls for a little baking of Scottish shortbread. Margrit and Jakob demonstrated such kindness, making us feel perfectly at home, away from home. The amazing luxury holiday apartment is also available for rent to anyone planning a sunshine retreat to this region, a great wee caravan is set up for guests here too, this is also available to rent. Give Margrit and Jakob an email with any enquiries; [email protected] |