Road trip: 36 European countries

Day 17 Genoa to the Cinque Terre

16/3/2015

The Cinque Terre is a small area of dramatic coastline between Genoa and La Spezia.It is a national park and –you guessed it-a Unesco World heritage site. Unesco describes it as “An area covering some 15km of jagged steep coastline, which the work of man over the centuries has transformed into an intensively terraced landscape, so as to be able to wrest from nature a few hectares of land suitable for agriculture, such as growing vines and olives. Most of these terraces were built in the 12th century”

From the north, the 5 villages giving the name to this area are Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglio, Manarola, and Riomaggiore.

From the start it was clear that driving to these places would be unthinkable by car, let alone by van. But they are all easily accessible by train, as the main rail line from Genoa to La Spezia runs through all of them, though a series of tunnels, just 200 metres from the sea, and the local stopping trains halt at all the villages.

I re-joined the motorway above Genoa, which showed no sign of running out of tunnels and viaducts ,several of the tunnels being more than 2km in length. My road journey today was just 60km,and I think I might have spent more than half of it in tunnels .Dropping down from the motorway and winding down towards the coast I found the campsite I was aiming for ,"Campeggio Arenella" , at the sleepy little seaside village of Deiva Marina, just north of the Cinque Terre. There was no-one to be found anywhere on the site but I left the van there and walked the 1km down to the station.

Don’t take this rail line if you want to see the scenery ,for the whole run is almost completely through( even more) tunnels, with the train emerging into the daylight only at stations, a bit like the Circle Line in London. Even some of the stations are in tunnels.With local trains running through every hour or so ,and with less than 5 minutes between village stations, it would be possible to see all five villages in a day.With only a short afternoon to spare,though, I managed to visit only Riomaggiore and Vernazza

Riomaggiore

Vernazza

These villages are breathtakingly scenic. Because of their easy access by rail they clearly have the potential to be rammed with tourists in the summer and there were quite a few American voices even now , even though half the shops in the villages have yet to open for the season. In some ways the villages resemble some of the smallest Cornish fishing villages .They look very photogenic, and the little streets have a high concentration of restaurants, ice cream shops, and a few little boutiques and art galleries. They still retain a very primitive air, though. Keeping the Cornish analogy alive, there were pictures up in Vernazza of a huge flash flood that had torn through the place in 2011,much like that which Boscastle suffered.

Manarola

Corniglia (not my pictures)

There is a coast path that connects all the villages, and there are little hotels and guest houses you can stay in, in all of them-so maybe a return is due one day!

Monterosso,which seems to be the largest and most upmarket of the Cinque Terre towns. Note the railway line and tunnel just behind the beach.

Day 16 San Remo to Genoa

15/3/2015

Today's route ( 140 km)

Today’s destination was Genoa, some 140 km further along the coast. After yesterday’s driving challenges the only sensible thing seemed to be to take the motorway. A short climb out of San Remo got me up to it. It is an amazing feat of engineering : it is a good two lane motorway(although with no hard shoulder)ploughing an almost horizontal route through a multitude of mountain ridges, all running down to the sea, by using tunnels through each of the ridges, and viaducts crossing the valleys in between. I lost count, but there were maybe a hundred or so of each in the first 100km,at which point the land had levelled a bit and the motorway began to get closer to the sea. It was a drizzly breezy morning and although the road was good, and quite empty(Sunday morning)there was an unpleasant cross -wind affecting all the viaduct sections which took a bit of concentration to anticipate as you popped out of each tunnel to meet it again.

I made good time: the motorway toll for this stretch was 17 Euro, so the cost is similar to France, but probably worth it. I had identified the campsite closest to the centre of Genoa, 'Campeggio Villa Doria'.This is a small family-run place in the suburb of Pegli, 6 miles along the coast to the north of the city centre, and located in part of what was the garden of Villa Doria. I presume this is connected with the Doria family, Genoese nobles, of whom the most famous is admiral Andrea Doria , who commanded the fleet of the Holy Roman empire in the 16th century, and is one of Italy’s “Nelson“ figures. At the campsite I had the honour of being the first guest of the year, as they were only opening that day ,and was showered with all sorts of tourist leaflets and timetables pulled from boxes the receptionist was busy opening.Then I walked down the hill 500 yards and I caught the bus into the city centre. I had first tried to get a suburban train, as advised by the campsite receptionist, but arriving at the station ,the departure board showed all the suitable trains for the next couple of hours were all listed as SOPP, Italian for 'cancelled without warning', apparently a fairly common occurrence.

My neighbour at Campeggio Villa Doria, the second visitor of the year(I was the first) This looks to be a really serious vehicle!

The Ducal palace

On the journey into town I was glad to find that I’m not the only person around here having navigation difficulties. As we approached the city centre, after having negotiated a couple of roundabouts, the bus started heading out of town again, and following our route on Google maps so as to know when to get off, I had a moment of concern. But immediately there were howls of protest from the passengers, then ironic applause when the driver managed to turn round after a quarter of a mile and head back the correct way.

There is a lot to see in Genoa. It has a rich history as a maritime trading and sea power whose fortunes waxed and waned over centuries, mirroring the fortunes of their rivals the Venetians. In the end they kept going longer than the Venetians, having the advantage of a base nearer to the newly discovered Americas (Columbus was Genoese !)In more modern times it was the main base for the Italian navy, before that was moved to La Spezia, but Genoa is still a huge active port but with an intact historic centre. I set out to see Unesco’s listing of “The Strade Nuove, and the system of the Palazzi dei Rolli”. Basically, in the late 16th and early 17th centuries, when the city was at the peak of its powers, the city authorities parcelled out several “New Streets” of urban development which resulted in several streets lined with Renaissance and Baroque palaces ,built by nobles,who all had to take it in turns to entertain visiting dignitaries, each family owning a palace being called on by rota to host state visits of an appropriate status to their particular palace.

San Lorenzo,Genoa's cathedral (12th century) There is an unexploded British bomb on display,which came through the roof in WW2

one of the Strade Nuovo ,now known as Via Garibaldi.....

....both sides of the street lined with wall-to-wall palaces

Despite its illustrious history, Genoa still has its rough side,as you would expect from Italy’s biggest port. The streets with the Palazzi were some 200-500 yards from the wide open space of the harbour front, which was full of families visiting the maritime museum and the huge aquarium, and the modern restaurants in the warehouse conversions, a bit like Bristol’s Millennium Square. In the space in between, however, is the old town, a maze of alleys and lanes, some busier than others, and finding myself at times in some of the quieter, darker ones I felt distinctly nervous. Here, there were what were obviously prostitutes in doorways, and shifty looking individuals , and I made haste to reach busier thoroughfares.

I quote from the Lonely Planet guide which I think says it better than I could :“Deep in the maze of the gritty old town, beauty and the beast sit side by side in streets that glimmer like a film noir movie set. Old men smoke languidly outside noisy bars and prostitutes stand like sentries in dark doorways, while on the periphery memories of the great years echo through the gold-leaf halls of the Unesco-sponsored Palazzi dei Rolli – a myriad collection of 16th- and 17th-century lodging palaces.”

After a good walk round all of this, I returned to the busy harbour-front and had what turned out to be a really excellent Fritto misto for lunch in a little restaurant .

Fritto Misto di Pesce

After lunch I managed to fit in a visit to one of my favourite types of place, the Genoa maritime museum, which gave a fairly good run through the story of Genoese sea power, and included a full size reconstruction of a war galley, as well as a solid celebration of the city's famous son Christopher Columbus

The Old Port, Genoa

Day 15 Frejus to Monaco, then San Remo, Italy

14/3/2015

Today's route (185 km ,6 hours)

The Cote d’Azur in the rain-It’s not supposed to be like that!

The previously forecast light rain started as I packed up this morning, bringing to an end the unbroken sun I have enjoyed since starting in Spain, and unfortunately the forecast also does not look promising for the next fortnight. My plan today was to see the French Riviera, and knock Monaco off the list. It was always going to be a challenge driving the van through these areas,and so it proved. The weather was not great for sightseeing, off and on drizzle all day.I was expecting very few places I could stop on a whim, but decided to drive right along the coast road and the main esplanades of all the big name towns, Cannes, Antibes, Nice, Monte Carlo. Those names seem so familiar yet I’d never been to any of them. However ,in the end, the day turned into a very long 185 km drive which took more than 6 hours of continuous and stressful driving to complete.

Things started well with a run from Frejus /St Raphael along the corniche coast road to Mandelieu-la-Napoule, just before Cannes. This part is not built up and you can see the true spectacle of the pine clad mountains and cliffs of dark orange rock tumbling steeply to the sea far below. Along this road there were actually a few laybys and little carparks one could have spent the night in a van without problems-I did see a couple of vans parked up. An amazing view-but nowhere to go beyond the layby.

After the start of Cannes, it was just one long built up area, some places where the road came down to the beach, other places you ran along esplanades past marinas.

Things started to get difficult in Nice.I was happily cruising down the main esplanade, Boulevard des Anglais, when I came to a point where it had been closed. There was some sort of police incident going on, and the diversion led all the traffic into the small streets of old Nice where it became snarled up. I had hoped to stop and see a bit of this old part of Nice but the traffic problems dictated that I set an immediate course for Monaco.It took me ages to extract myself from Nice.in the process, I had a very close encounter with a parked delivery truck while squeezing past ,in a very narrow street, with a queue of traffic behind, and lost a hubcap. Fortunately no other damage sustained. As I wound my way out of Nice I realised that I had completely underestimated how steeply the Alps tumble down to the sea here. It is unbelievable that cities can have grown up in such a vertiginous place. High above me up the cliff I could see the main motorway from France to Italy winding its way along ledges and through tunnels.

Whatever was going on, I don’t know, but there was a CRS (riot squad) policeman or group of police about every hundred yards all along the road to Nice and Monaco, with convoys of police vans ,cars, and bikes coming and going .I got stopped 2 or 3 times by the Police to allow one of their vehicles to pull out or turn around.

It was with some relief that I got into Monaco ,where there was a clear contrast with Nice. The same steeply turning narrow streets ,but none of the back street chaos,here there was quiet traffic ,and a sense that all the buildings were in pristine condition. Nonetheless, there was nowhere to stop.The Police were out here too, in their different style of uniform, with white caps.

At this point I made things more difficult for myself by deciding to head for a free overnight camper spot about 15km north of Monaco, in a small French town of Sospel. When I had earlier plotted likely campsites on the map,this looked as if it was within easy reach of Monaco.Again, what I hadn’t realised was due to the steep tumble of the mountains, this in practice meant an awesome hairpin climb all the way. I had some difficulty with my satnav, as the roads were so tight in Monaco, that often one came to a spiral with branches coming off it at different levels, and it was very unclear from the satnav 2 dimensional image which arm of the spiral to come off at. On one occasion I took the wrong turn on such a loop, and it was 4km of winding road before I could turn around.

Anyway, on reaching Sospel high in the mountains it quickly became clear that the recommended place was a dud, a gloomy spot at the back of a small sports hall. I wrote it off and initiated plan B, which was to head on into Italy where I had noted 2 or 3 campsites on the coast ,pretty much just over the border. To get there involved an even narrower climbing road with multiple hairpins, eventually crossing the border into Italy on a little road high in the mountains. I then descended on a better road, through a pretty much continuous series of tunnels for 8 km. Arriving down on the coast again I was in the first city over the Italian border, Ventemiglia, where if anything the traffic was more crazy than Nice .I went through Bordighera, rather a nasty suburb of Ventemiglia,and not at all the beautiful place suggested in Monet’s painting of the same name, though his picture is mostly of sea and pine trees! It was with some relief that I escaped onto the main coast road, and shortly arrived at my campsite in San Remo.

This was really nice, right on the sea. At the gate, though, I was faced with an unexpected choice, as next to it was a large car park, with places right by the sea, serving as a camper stop, for 15 Euros per night. Using the same logic as yesterday, I went on onto the campsite, which was 18 euros with my discount card. It even has its own restaurant, posh to look at, with the Maitre’d in DJ ,but all a bit of a show really. Nonetheless I had a good cheap meal, a pasta dish ,then swordfish steak and had a chat to some Swiss people on the next table who were staying the whole week there.

Day 14 Provence to the Cote d'Azur

13/3/2015

Today's route (290 km)

Camargue flamingos

Friday the 13th-and no disasters, save losing 3 Euro in tonight’s campsite tumble dryer.

The flamingos arrived on cue as I left Saintes Maries de la Mere, by a slightly different route than that by which I had arrived. There were a number of flocks feeding in the lagoons close to the road. Unfortunately, as well as the flamingos, the camper park attendant also showed up at 8am and I had to fork out 12 Euros. As I dozed,I had heard 2 or 3 campervans leaving very early, maybe 7 am, so I then realised why. Perhaps I need to follow their tactic in future. On the way out I again passed several riding stables inviting me to “Promenade a Cheval” .It seems to be THE thing to do around here.

Taking a walk along the beach this morning ,I noticed that, like Oldbury-on Severn, the Camargue is protected by a system of automatic sluice gates, although given that there are hardly any tides in the Med, I think they are more a protection against high seas when the mistral blows from the south

My aim for the day was to move east to the Cote d’Azur but first I wanted to see a little bit more of Provence. Granted you can’t do it justice in one day, but I set myself a scenic route to try and see a bit.

First, following a “top ten guide” I headed for the little hill village of Les Baux de Provence, just beyond Arles. This is clearly a highly popular tourist attraction given the couple of km of metered parking on the side of the road approaching it. I was, however, able to get right up to the village, but was a little disappointed. It was a nice enough little place, several winding alleys and streets; leading to a castle on a rocky outcrop, It was worth seeing in passing but probably I’ve seen so many quaint little towns lately I’m getting picky.. St Remy de Provence, a few km further on, is an attractive town too.

Les Baux de Provence-very popular with tourists but a little disappointing

Next I made tracks for the Cote de Luberon ,to the east of Avignon, which is 'Peter Mayle country' .I passed many orchards ,which I think were cherries, and of course vineyards. There were also some of the iconic lavender fields, but unfortunately at this time of year they are just rows of brown tussocks. Cutting over the hills to Aix-en-Provence involved much hair-pinning up and down a rocky gorge and I eventually stopped for lunch in a pretty village called Loumarin. Quite a number of people were eating outside in the handful of restaurants in the main street, but they needed coats on, for today the temperature has dropped from 20 degrees to 15, and there's a chilly breeze . (I fear the forecast is for rain over the weekend).I imagined they must have been foreigners sitting outside in the chill ! -I joined the locals inside where I experienced the strange mixture of watching a little Provencal village in action through the window, while MTV was on the television inside. Such a good lunch, but it’s a shame I’m driving as once again I had to stick to water to wash it down.
I later learned that after Peter Mayle's original farmhouse ,which featured in his books, became too well known for comfort, he had in fact moved to Loumarin, where he lived until 2011.

From Aix-en–Provence, I decided to take the motorway, and whizzed towards the Cote d’Azur.I have now worked out why my satnav is giving me frequent warnings about unsafe road sections, and flashing an advisory speed limit, when the road looks in perfectly good, if not excellent, condition.I now realise it is circumventing French law, which bans the use of devices which warn about speed camera locations, by warning about “dangerous roads” instead! Crafty! I think I have been heeding the warnings OK, and anyway it’s hard to go beyond the limits in the van anyway.

Talking of technology, I had another mechanical scare yesterday when I heard a nasty buzzing alarm, and the radio display showed “low battery”. I started thinking I’d got an alternator problem, but there was no battery icon lit up on the dashboard and I have the advantage of a display in the van showing the charge state of both vehicle and leisure batteries, and I could see that when I started the engine the vehicle battery boosted nicely, indicating the alternator was working. Having done a little internet research, I have realised that my mobile phone, which has linked itself to the vehicle, is what is giving a warning, via the radio, that IT’S running low on battery. That sort of tech I can do without.

Arriving at the coast, I gave St Tropez a look before the need to find a decent overnight stop took me along the coast road to Frejus to find the only open campsite hereabouts, 'Camping Caravaning le Frejus'. All the rest of the of the many campsites around here don’t open for a month or more yet, but to me it’s a no brainer to find a campsite, at which, with my out of season discount card, I can get a night for 14 euros, including all facilities, as opposed to paying 12 euros for a car park by the main road, with minimal facilities. I did look at a couple of those near St Tropez, and one was busy with 20 campervans. Although I could have a hot shower in my van, and it’s got a toilet, it seems a lot better idea to use someone else’s, and get off the road under some trees in a quiet ,secure ,spot. Also, as I hinted at the start, I was able to get another lot of washing done.

There are masses of camper stops (”Aires de camping”) in France, but whether or not they are free seems to depend very much whether campervans are viewed as a plague or a benefit. Clearly, where villages feel they need to boost their tourism, they set up a free campervan stop. The ones on the coast invariably all have a charge, and all the other car parks and laybys along the coast road all either have a height barrier or signs saying 'no campers'. Inland, though, many of them are free, like the couple I stayed on in Portugal.

Day 13 Avignon to Arles, and the Camargue

12/3/2015

today's route (80km)

Not so much travelling was needed today.The first thing to sort out was to get the spare wheel removed.I now suspect that the underslung spare wheel that I had fitted at Rockhampton garage is the cause of the fractured brake line.When first fitted ,there seemed plenty of clearance,but checking this morning under the van I noticed that the spare wheel was now resting alarmingly against the new brake line,and even though it was fixed in place would be transmitting considerable vibration through it. I took the wheel out but had to call in at yet another garage to use their inspection pit to swing the cradle down and remove that too.This took a bit of effort, and I cruised around a few industrial estates till I spotted a lorry and van depot that I though might have an inspection pit. It took a bit of explaining but in the end one of their mechanics drove the van over the pit and I swung off the cradle off and stowed it inside. I wasn't charged anything.

Luckily I have a tarpaulin on board and plenty of bungee cord so I now have a big parcel on the floor of the van. Actually I wonder if I need to keep it aboard when I return home, as after all, when was the last time you had a puncture?, and these van tyres are so thick. But I can’t ditch it now and it might just come in handy,so it will have to live in the van-a bit of a nuisance but it’s do-able. Certainly better than getting another brake failure.

The Roman amphitheatre,Arles

After sorting this out I headed the 30km south to Arles, the unofficial capital of the Camargue (the Rhone delta), and one time home to Vincent van Gogh. Unesco lists the Roman and Romanesque (10th century) monuments of Arles a world heritage site. Notably , there is a Roman amphitheatre, which held 20,000,and it is still used for shows, and also a semi-circular Roman theatre seating 10,000.

The Roman theatre, Arles,currently infested with French schoolchildren

Saintes Maries de la Mer,by Vincent van Gogh

After lunching al fresco at a restaurant alongside the wall of the amphitheatre I headed further south into the depths of the Camargue, eventually reaching the little port of Saintes Maries de la Mer (name in the plural as there were three St Marys!)This is a small place ,with a little fishing harbour and marina, a very commercialised but unsophisticated seaside resort but not without charm.All the traditional whitewashed low lying buildings persist, and a 10th century church, and arena where they do the Camargue version of bull fighting ,more like the Pamplona run, with athletes trying to plant a rosette on the bull.

Camargue horses

Everyone knows of Carmargue white horses, and their cowherd riders ,les Gardians, but I wondered if they still exist .In fact I saw hundreds of horses, mostly now in (a large number of) riding stables offering rides to tourists. In fact the breed are quite small and perhaps should be called ponies. But the special breed of cattle still exist and the meat is prized, the steaks of which are sold in restaurants as “taureau” as opposed to “boeuf”. There are a lot of paddyfields too, and somewhere out there flocks of pink flamingos as well (No I haven’t been on the Pastis!) There must be a couple of hundred campervans in town, dispersed among several specially designated car parks. The town is quite busy in the sunny day but oddly, of the several hundred restaurants and bars open in the day, only a handful are open in the evening, and they’re deserted. It really is early in the season, and the campervan folk seem to prefer sitting in their vans watching TV. In fact the sign says it costs 12 Euro to overnight in the campervan park but the ticket hut is firmly closed.

Mind you, now is the time to visit as I read that in the summer it becomes a mosquito ridden heat hole.(the postcard shops are full of cards with droll jokes about tourists surviving mosquitoes)

Somewhere out there ,there are pink flamingos..........

Day 12 On the road again Sur le pont ..Carcassonne to Avignon

11/3/2015

Today's route (250 km)

I had just set off down the road from my hotel, walking down towards the old citadel of Carcassonne again, when I had a phone call from the Renault garage-great news !-they had fixed the van, both the wheel bearings and the brake line, well ahead of predicted schedule, having managed to get the necessary part .

I had planned to occupy my day with a walk round old Carcassonne walls,and had worked out that I could hire a bike to cycle down the Canal du Midi towpath.The prospect of moving on was much more appealing,however,as I’d already spent a long afternoon and evening in Carcassonne the day before.I managed to cancel the 2nd night that I had booked at the hotel,and packed up and headed on my way.

I was off to Avignon,a drive of some 250km.To get things moving I decided to take the motorway.Despite the fact that it was a toll road,it was much more busy than Spanish roads,and more akin to UK driving. There were an especially large number of lorries on the road.Apart from French ones I noted Spanish and Portuguese, and also a lot of Polish lorries.I was driving through the vineyards of the Pays de L'Herault region.

I had a bit of a shock when I hit the first toll booth after 140km-,19 Euro.So about 10 pence per km.I suspect I am paying higher rates for my van than I would in a car.It is all done automatically, there are no manned booths. A ticket comes out of either a higher or lower slot, mine came out of the higher slot so the system must be detecting the size of my vehicle as I approach. If you pay by cash, however, the change comes out of the lower section of the machine-presumably lorry drivers never pay by cash ! It is a real contortion, first unbelting, crossing to the passenger seat, leaning right out of the passenger window to feed in the ticket and the banknote, and then grovelling for the change while hanging out of the window.I did come off the motorway after that but got stuck in so much traffic going through small towns that I went back on again and got stung for another 5 Euro.

My first stop was just before Avignon to the the Roman aqueduct,the Pont du Gard.This fed the city of Nimes with water and crosses the river Gard.I hesitated to go and see another aqueduct after the impressive one at Segovia,but it is also a World Heritage site,and actually it was definitely worth it-it looks stunning in its setting crossing the Gard valley.The French seem to have their tourist attractions sewn right up,though ,because I had to cough up 18 Euros to get into the carpark just to look at it, although there was a posh visitor centre.To be fair,the price would have been the same If I’d had a minibus full.

Oh no ! Not another Roman aqueduct!

The Pont du Gard

The view from the campsite

Next stop 25 km away was Avignon.I installed myself in “Camping Pont d’Avignon”, which seemed an appropriate haven.It is on an island in the Rhone,and right opposite the bridge and the Papal palace, although annoyingly the bridge is out and I had to cross over another one 5 mins walk down the road!!
(Ed: The bridge collapsed and was abandoned on the mid 17th century!)

Avignon is yet another walled city, but it has much more going for it than Carcassonne,bigger, with lots of nice streets, interesting shops and restaurants and it seems much less blatantly touristy that the old citadel in Carcassonne, and of course there are masses of historic buildings and museums .I just had time to go round the Papal palace, built in the 14th Century when the Popes and cardinals were French dominated and were based here. The building is huge, but little remains of the splendour that must have existed here in those days when all the luxuries that money could buy were here. Some tantalising remains of frescos are all that remain to suggest the extravagances, otherwise the building is bare, though impressive.

The eponymous Pont. The hill in the background with snow is,I think, Mont Ventoux,1909 metres

The Papal palace

Day 11 En panne á Carcassonne !

10/3/2015

Today's route (180km)

I set off this morning to head down out of the Pyrennees to Carcassonne.I had spent the night in the Marie Celeste of all campsites; rows of caravans with tent attachments ,all completely deserted and I think I really was the only person staying. But the facilities were good.

Camping Queixans-rows of absolutely deserted caravans and tents

I retraced my steps of the evening before to the junction where I had turned up the mountain to Andorra. This time I continued on down the Toulouse road .I had the choice of either a very winding road down or taking the Puymorens toll tunnel (5 km).I assumed that the tunnel was there for a good reason, and went through it, despite the toll being 13 Euro. There followed a continuous descent down a good road for 80 km, before the countryside levelled off in to the attractive rolling fields and vineyards of the Languedoc-Roussillon region. The snow remained further down the mountain on the Northern side, but down in Roussillon everything was looking very green after the aridness of central Spain, although the vines of the vineyards had not yet come to life.

I had a plan to seek out the main Renault garage in Carcassonne and get booked in for the wheel bearings to be replaced on the back wheel. Actually, the run down the mountains had been good, with no recurrence of the worrying squeak on corners. As luck would have it, as I approached the garage, with about 1km to go ,the brakes started feeling spongy and lost their power. As I pulled in to the garage and stopped, I could see brake fluid dripping from the brake line under the rear of the van.

Fortunately my French was up to it, as no-one I dealt with could speak English, but I had mugged up on some technical terms. A diagnosis was made, indeed a fractured brake line, and they were certain it couldn’t have anything to do with the brake pad change the day before , as it was in a site protected from any possible damage by jacks etc. Thus it was a completely random event. How amazing then that this should occur within sight of a Renault dealership, and luckily not while descending hairpin bends in the Pyrenees !!

The wheel bearings on the left rear wheel were confirmed as definitely needing replacement too .Those could be done immediately, but the necessary part for the brake line was nowhere local and would probably take till Thursday to arrive. I had factored in that I might need to stay a day or two .With the van unsafe to drive it was abandoned to the safe hands of the Renault dealership, and I packed some things in my bag and headed to the nearest hotel ,luckily a mere 100 metres across the road ,a pleasant little travel lodge type place .At only £35 per night it’s not going to break the bank. And in a great location too, as it is a mere 15 minutes walk down the road to the famous medieval citadel.

Having checked in I set out to explore. The Carcassonne tourist website says that the old city is the second most visited tourist destination in France after the Eiffel tower. I’m somewhat sceptical of this claim as I can’t see any way they could measure it.

Carcassonne features the iconic fortress of the old city, a World Heritage site.It is renowned as one of the strongholds of the Cathars, a Christian sect based in Languedoc in the south of France, and the city was captured by the crusaders of the Albigensian Crusade (1209–1229) which was a 20-year military campaign initiated by Pope Innocent III to eliminate Catharism in the south of France for largely political reasons. The English lord Simon de Montford was one of the leader of the besiegers. I was just too late to go round the walls, which close at 4-30.That will have to be on tomorrow’s list. However, although the walls are dramatic, inside the walls the houses and streets pretty much make up one large Ye Olde Gifte Shoppe,very much a "Disneyfication" and somewhat of a disappointment..

Entry gate to the Bastide

Actually there are two old cities, as a “new city” of The Bastide was built in the 13th century the other side of the river ,after a revolt, so that the populace would no longer live within the citadel's fortifications. This 13th century town has now largely been supplanted by more modern buildings but retains the original grid layout , and the shape of the city walls is still evident. There is a nice central square , where I was able to sample some pavement café life in a pleasant 20 degree heat. I also took a stroll down to the 'docks', the basin of the Canal du Midi. On the way back in the evening I found a pleasant Italian restaurant near the river.
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So. Stuck in Carcassonne for a couple of days. Life can be so hard !

Day 10 Ripoll to Andorra

9/3/2015

Today's route (130km)

This has been a day of mixed fortunes but ended on a high note.

The rail line next to my overnight stop in Ripoll proved to be very quiet , with no trains between 2100 and 0700, so I slept well. I have growing confidence that I can camp “stealth style” off site, as my van leisure batteries keep me going overnight without any significant drop in charge, allowing for charge of phone and laptop along the way. So if the worst comes to the worst I can spend the night anywhere . Despite temperatures as much as 20 degrees by day, it still is nearly zero at night at this altitude so things can get a bit chilly. On a campsite I can run my electrical heater all night and doing so am very warm-I could do the same with my gas heater off-site but would rather not exhaust my gas so unconnected from electricity tend to be a bit stingy about running the burners all night. I have a very snug Vango mountain-style “mummy” sleeping bag, but I have discovered that for the perfect night’s sleep at 2 degrees C, I have to sleep with this inside my other oblong style basic sleeping bag, and am then very cosy. This morning I managed an early start and headed from Ripoll up the winding mountain road to the Spanish/French border. The evening before I had become increasingly concerned about squeaking from the rear every time I turned a corner to the left. I worked at that at Bourg-Madame, the first French town over the border, there was a Renault garage so I planned to drop in there for a check-up .The squeaking continued on up the winding climb today. The garage turned out to be a small village enterprise, although it sported a Renault sign, but they were willing to help, although I did have to communicate in French.The diagnosis was that my rear brake pads needed changing, which I was prepared to accept even though they had been OK’d at an MOT before setting out. As they had nothing appropriate in stock I agreed to return at 3 pm, after delivery of said brake pads to the garage.

I therefore had a bit of time to kill so among other things did some food shopping, but it was a really nice mountain day in which to relax, hot and sunny, 20 degrees at the middle of the day. What was really interesting is how precise an entity the border still is despite the years of the EU. It is now just marked by a little bridge over a stream and a road sign, but having crossed and re-crossed the border several times today, I found that French is spoken one side of the border, and Spanish(or rather, Catalan) 10 yards away. I visited two different little Carrefour stores, one on either side of the border ( well , I DID have some time to kill) and found the product ranges completely different. This I found quite odd as I thought that the practicalities of the EU would have done away with this as the two border towns of French Bourg-Madame and Spanish Puigcerda physically merge one into another.

Having realised that I wouldn’t be going too far that day I also spent some of my time searching around locally for a campsite at which to spend the night, deciding that it would be even chillier than the previous night at this altitude, and some electricity for the heater would be good. Although several sites seemed available both on Google, and also according to my various site guidebooks, I had to try several before I found an open one. Two were locked up, and the third had an open gate, but after driving in and wandering around it was some time before I found the caretaker. He eventually appeared but was only there to make a repair and it too was closed. Eventually after being directed from one to another I found an open one 3 km back in Spain. ("Camping Queixans", in Queixans village , which is largely a modern resort of rustic-looking alpine -style stone houses).

I then discovered that apparently the campsites are only normally open around here at weekends at this time of year as this is when people come up to ski. This site had several lines of caravans of various descriptions, looking as if they had been semi-permanently installed, but all seemed shut up and empty. The man who appeared to open the reception in response to my phone call to the number posted in the office window, had himself to make a call to clear it as being OK for me to stay ,and I felt that the site might have been opened specially for me after some thought. The washing facilities were actually very smart, up and running, and snugly centrally heated.

I returned to the garage in Bourg -Madame at 1500, and the boss himself got to work, clearly smelling of a liquid lunch, and chain-smoking throughout the procedure. I was advised (in French) that the wheel bearings on the left rear wheel also needed replacing pretty soon, although I could go a few miles yet. I had rather feared that might be the problem. The old brake pads I was presented with, though still reasonably thick, were very corroded and apparently one brake was gripping too tightly, so the pads probably did need replacing. So in that case 0/10 to City Motors Renault Vans in Bristol who did the MOT at the start of February and were specifically asked to report anything that might not last 20,000 miles. The positive is that I would much rather these problems show themselves in France, amply endowed with Renault garages, than in other countries I hope to visit later. The unexpected mechanical issue is probably a reflection of the fact that I ended up not having time to do test runs in the van after completion of the build, and only managed about 500 miles in it in the 11 months since purchase.

Emerging from the garage at 5 pm with a bill no worse than I would have paid at home, I decided that as it had been getting dark at about 7-30 pm lately I still had time to make the 50 min, 30 km, drive to Andorra and back before the light faded. This would mean I would have to retrace my steps again by 20km in the morning, but at that stage I would then have a free run down into France. I would also be able to test the result of the garage work this evening.
So I headed off. There was no snow at this initial height (1200 metres) and I actually descended a bit on the road to Toulouse before the Andorra turning

Made it to Andorra !

This was an interesting trip. It was a bright sunny evening, with a temperature of 10 degrees so no risk of ice on the road (and I have got winter tyres on anyway, if there were to have been). After turning off towards Andorra there was a road with multiple hairpins heading up towards the snowline. Soon there was snow 4 feet deep either side of the road. After winding back and forth I reached the Andorra border in a deep snowfield and cleared Andorra customs (i.e. drove straight though a building with a row of unmanned checkpoint booths). After a further 1 km I reached the first Andorra town, El pas de la Casa; to progress further into Andorra you must drive from here into a tunnel several kilometres long .The whole place seemed to be a small concrete jungle built against a cliff in the middle of a deep snowfield –and wandering around it was clear that it was mostly a mass of cheap hotels and cut price duty-free alcohol and electrical goods outlets.

El pas de la Casa--A concrete jungle in the middle of snow field consisting of cheap hotels and duty -free outlets

Snow nearly as high as the van !

With the light fading I lingered just long enough to gain photographic evidence(for some reason, perhaps due to a change in mobile operators on crossing the borders, the GPS on my mobile phone tracker had stopped running) and then I headed back down to the campsite ,back through a bit of France ,and back into Spain again to the awaiting campsite at Queixans. Reassuringly the squeak on turning corners seemed to have disappeared, but time will tell!

Day 9 Zaragoza to Ripoll,Catalonia

8/3/2015

Today' route ( 391km )

Having run out of World Heritage sites this side of the French border, the main purpose of today’s run was to establish a base camp for an assault on Andorra tomorrow .I drove 350km to the East, into northern Catalonia, and turned to the north just before Barcelona. Leaving Zaragoza, I could see the Ebro, beyond the constraints of the city, had burst its banks and spread over a wide area of flood plain.

Despite this inundation the remainder of Aragon, which I crossed,was still dry and dusty, the difference being that the dust today is more of a cream colour compared to yesterday’s orange! But approaching the Catalan border, I began to enter a much greener area, the motorway wending its way through green valleys with pine clad hills. Despite having glimpsed the Pyrenees yesterday, they are invisible for most of the journey: I’m too low down and it’s too hazy. But they appear again as I pass Manresa. I can’t get out of my head that it’s the old address of Chelsea College of Art, Manresa Rd, Chelsea –useless information !! The same thing happened as I was driving past Zamora in Castile: extremely annoyingly each time I saw a sign I couldn’t stop thinking of Bobby (Bobby Zamora=plays for QPR)

Stork nesting on Avila Cathedral. Along the road the Storks are nesting on all available poles. They must cause havoc with the Electrical supply. They have been in most place in Spain that I’ve seen. When they feel threatened they clatter the two parts of their beak together in an alarming way.

Crispy stork coming up !

Catalonia!

I was following directions from one of my guides to a known overnight camper stop, in the little town of Ripoll, about 60 km south of Andorra and just at an altitude of 750 metres. It is only a car park ,actually. It's pretty quiet but there are a few cars here and there’s river running past. Its right next to the town police station.-it should be OK,although as it will be my first night not on a campsiteThe only snag is it also turns out to be right next to the rail line over the mountains to Toulouse and I am parked about 10 metres from the track ! The trains seem to come only every hour or so and hopefully I’ll get some sleep but I have visions of that scene from the Blues brothers. As I watch out of my window there is a queue of slow moving traffic coming down the hill into town. Only a few cars are going the other way. I assume it’s the queue of weekend skiers heading home.

Day 8 Albarracin to Zaragoza,via Teruel

7/3/2015

Today's route (210km)

Mudejar Architecture is a feature of Aragon as a whole, but there is a collection of towers of this type in Teruel,a small city 30km from Albarracin. After the reconquest of Spain by the Christians in the 12th century(La Reconquista)Moorish building traditions and art survived, and were copied by Christian builders right up to the 17th century. The Unesco guide tells me the style is typified by the use of a combination of brick and glazed tiles,so I simply had to go and have a look:-

The towers of Teruel

After looking round Teruel I joined the aptly named N 23 “Autovia Mudejar” and sped up towards Zaragoza,140 km to the north. This is a large city(nearly twice the size of Bristol),the capital of Aragon, and has a Moorish history too.

The plains of Aragon look very dusty, rocky, and dry even at this time of year, all over an orangey umber colour, although in some fields there is sign of new growth. The motorway rises over a hill 50km south of Zaragoza, and as I crest the summit at an altitude of 900 metres, I can suddenly see the whole range of the snow topped Pyrenees stretching in front of me from left to right. They must be 150km away.

The town campsite is in the suburbs, amid high rise apartment blocks and new avenues, but it is convenient ,as a bus for the city centre leaves from right outside. What is odd is that in this suburb location there seem to be owners of permanent caravans/cabins. The other thing I notice is the BBQ house: there was one at the campsite last night, an open room with a row of several big fireplace in which campers seem to light huge fires with big logs, which they get from somewhere, and then there is much smell of burnt flesh.

The Aljaferia: exterior

One of the things I had planned to see was the Aljaferia palace, supposedly the most important Moorish building remaining outside Andalucía (of which the crème de la crème there of course is the Alhambra).The Aljaferia is now a part of a larger complex housing the Aragonese parliament. There is a limited amount of it left, nothing up to the overpowering standard of the Alhambra, but there is still much to recommend it, not least the fact that its free.
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orange trees in the Aljaferia courtyard

The Aljaferia

The river Ebro , swollen by snowmelt ,flows past 'Our lady of the Pillar'

One of two large cathedrals in Zaragoza, 'Our Lady of the Pillar' was built in the 17th century , but from a distance looks surprisingly Islamic (i.e. like mosques in Istambul, I thought)

There is some concern on the local news on the TV in a bar, where I had lunch, about the high water level in the river, with some flooding, caused by sudden snow melt in the mountains.

The old Roman forum,now the cathedral plaza

I did a large walk around the city centre, which seems mostly fairly modern, but with plenty of points of interest. The site of the Roman forum is still an open space, now lined on one side by the massive cathedral of ‘Our Lady of the Pillar’, who apparently appeared as an apparition on top of a pillar(Why a pillar?) to the apostle James here.

The Emperor Augustus ,in the forum, appears to hold up a distinctly wonky tower.

The Roman City was called Caesaraugusta, and the Moors changed that to Saragusta, hence today’s Zaragoza * (*apparently !)

The city was also the home to the artist Goya, but I was unfortunately unable to fit in a visit to the Goya museum.

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A large Napoleonic recreationist rally was being held in the city, and I walked quite a distance trying to find their encampment in a park. It was the lunch hour and as I walked I kept passing groups of Napoleonic soldiers in a wide variety of (presumably) Spanish and French uniforms (but no redcoats)heading in the opposite direction for lunch ,looking like extras from the 'Sharp' series.Unfortunately when I finally arrived at the park the large camp was pretty deserted. Apparently earlier in the day at one of the old gates to the city they had recreated one part of the battle when Napoleon's troops captured It from the Spanish in 1809.

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