France, July 12th - 22nd 2009

Sunday 12th

We arrived back in France having had a bit of a shock in the form of a bill for €410 from Fabrice - he'd had to replace a wheel bearing. All in all though, he did us proud - he only charged half the labour cost and The Rosabella felt, and sounded, like a different vehicle. The steering was lighter, the weird vibration from under the bonnet was gone and she purred along (compared to the rattling we had before anyway!). The whole thing included: wheel bearing, air filter, fuel filter, 'Balais EV', 'Cartouch Filtre', replacement lamp, oil change, windscreen wipers, fix and replace tyre, full service.

We had a couple of good evenings at Tim's, including a barbie on the terrace, drinks with his guests Mathieu and Natalie (we explained to them the concept of 'bingo wings'!) and a Bastille Day meal in Torreilles Plage where we were looke after by a madman, Stefan. We also managed a couple of trips to the beach - relaxing, and the Med was warm.

Our purchases in that couple of days, apart from food supplies for The Rosabella, included a 12 volt cooler box and an 'air conditioning unit' for the dashboard. The latter was broken when we opened the box, entailing a trip back to Feu Vert and a well-rehearsed explanation in French by T. It was duly replaced - and not used!

The other BIG development was Tom Tom, our Satnav - a mix of Joel's old unit and a borrowed map card from Ellie - a great boon!

Tuesday 14th, St Laurent de la Salanque to La Fagolle (84m)

After lunch on the beach at Torreilles Plage we were finally under way at 4'ish. We bumped in to Tim as we were leaving - he presented us with a complimentary rubbish bag!

We followed the route that Gill had suggested, up to Quillon and then on to small roads on the 'Route des Cols'. Lots of evidence that we were getting in to the mountains - narrow roads with overhangs cut from the rock, torrents over boulders and the occasional glimpse of snow patches. We stopped to watch some very spectacular rafting down the rapidson the Aude - we were moved on by police as we'd parked right next to a 'No Parking' sign!

Climbing higher and higher as the day drew on, into the mist, The Rosabella getting hotter and hotter until we found a clear patch on the roadside, just big enough for us to be out of the way. The mist was down, lightning flashing and thunder rumbling as we prepared for our first night in The Pyrenees, and the first night in The Rosabella for five weeks. Tom Tom told us that we were on an unnamed road near La Fagolle. We could hear cowbells and running water and occasionally the mist would clear to give us an almost Alpine view between the trees - beech, chestnut and alder were some that we could identify. It poured with rain but there were no leaks and we bedded down for the usual deep, cosy sleep in The Rosabella's care.

Wednesday 15th, La Fagolle to La Croix Blanche (148m)

We moved a couple of miles up the road from our pitch to a clearing at the top of the hill. There was more mist, and more cowbells and then a sudden glimpse of snowcapped peaks between the clouds followed by a magnificent cloud-free view of a vista of mountains. We were very high, the Col du Pradel was showing as 1680 metres. We took in the view over breakfast before continuing on steep and winding roads to Foix, where we lunched on Salade Nicoise before wandering around the market.

Onward towards Lourdes - T was feeling very tired so we turned off the main road to find a suitable wild camping pitch. We followed signs for a 'Panoramique', through hamlets, higher and higher, until, just as we were on the point of giving up and parking on the side of the road, we found La Croix Blanche viewpoint. A 360° vista gave the most spectacular view of, to the west, mountain tops and to the east, across the verdant plain towards Lourdes. It was, by now, very warm but we were revitalised by the excitement of finding this very special place - we were, literally, feeling on top of the world.

Two German women turned up in a small camper van and, very politely, came over to ask if we minded them sharing this spot with us - of course we didn't, and invited them to share some wine with us later. After we had eaten we went for a short wander and when we returned we found two extra chairs at our table, together with a bottle of wine and a plate full of cheese. We had a lovely, relaxing evening, nattering under a black velvet sky studded with diamond-like stars. There's no real English translation of gemütlich - it has to be experienced, and we did.

Thursday 16th, La Croix Blanche to Monasterio de Leyre (140m)

After another perfect night's sleep we took our time to enjoy this very special spot - alone again now, and very warm we soaked in the atmosphere. Two men were flying a remote controlled bird amongst the live versions, and a couple of farmers, complete with tractors, stopped for a leisurely (one and a half hours) lunch. After they had all left, T decided to take an al fresco shower although K was only brave enough in her bikini! (T took a photo of K's showering activity which he later entered in a motorhome photo competition - 2nd place out of 250 entries and K will never, ever, be able to attend a motorhome meet again! See why.)

On the road again, reluctant to leave this little bit of paradise, we negotiated Lourdes and then climbed again toward the Spanish border. We stopped briefly at Etsaut for a beer - Ellie's recommendation - and kept going through the 'five villages' spotting eagles and vultures before climbing higher and higher again to the frontier at Col du Somport. The Rosabella, and we, reached boiling point on the way so we stopped at the little booth at the top of the pass to cool down, treating The Rosabella to a sticker to prove that she'd made it.

As we descended, the landscape on the Spanish side of the border was quite different - rough, white hills, quite a shock after the verdant green of the French side and not particularly pleasant to our eyes. It was still very hot and becoming dark so we turned off the main road following a sign to the Monasterio de Leyre where we collared a corner of the, very empty, carpark. After supper the heavens opened and we experienced a big storm with hailstones so big we thought they would break the windscreen. Once it had subsided, and we'd overcome our reticence about camping in a private car park, it was our usual good night's sleep once again

Friday 17th, Monasterio de Leyre to Capbreton (128m)

Left the monastery early and stopped for brekkie a couple of miles down the road. We were joined by a red squirrel who, naturally, disappeared the moment we found the camera, and we said goodbye to our old wooden table, which we'd decided took up too much room in the Luton and which we put out for recycling.

It was cooler now, after the storm of the previous evening, and it was quite overcast. Back on the main road to Pamplona the countryside felt quite bleak, apart from acres of sunflowers. Arriving in the city and it took us ages to find somewhere to park - when we did, we went for a wander, coffee-ing in a little bar next to the wonderful little town hall where the rocket had gone up a couple of weeks earlier to mark the start of Fiesta de San Fermin, and of course, the world famous bull run. We'd read about the chase and although it had finished a few days before we arrived there was evidence of the activities everywhere. T was very struck by the whole thing and decided that he was going to participate next time!! Near the massive bullring (the third largest in the world) we stopped to read the posters and were impressed to read about some of the background to the event. The annual event raises money for charity and the people of Pamplona have a long history of social conscience which goes alongside the tradition and eccentricity of the event. Pamplona opened Spain's first women's refuge, introduced a scheme for training school leavers and are at the forefront of sustainable development in Spain - very interesting for us, given our jobs and beliefs. We also found the 'Basque-ness' fascinating as we walked the route of the bull run. We were harangued by a couple of buskers who, whilst they may have seemed to be 'down and outs' were brilliant musicians, with a range of whistles and woodwind instruments, playing what sounded like very ancient music. We wanted a poster but couldn't find one so settled for stickers for The Rosabella instead.

Castillean omelettes for lunch (of course!) and back on the road to Biarritz.

K had brought a supply of spoken books from work (at Royal National College for the Blind) and we dug in to them for the first time on this leg of the trip - and what good foresight that turned out to be as we were stuck in major traffic at St Jean de Luz. We worked our way through two very funny CDs of 'I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue', 'The Book Club' (which we thought was inane!) and started on the epic story of Ria in 'Tara Road'.

The dreadful traffic, which we think was caused by an accident, meant a change in plan and we arrived late, and tired, at the big Aire at Capbreton. It was windy on the beach, there were over 100 vans on site (with one very smelly loo on the beach) so we ate, slept and left - with K still in bed - to look for a nice spot for brekkie, which we duly did, next to a fishing lake in the pine forest. It was idyllic, although K was very grumpy having woken up on a carpark in Capbreton village with no sign of T (who was shopping), and then having her chair collapse beneath her as she was about to settle down for her tea and toast!

Saturday 18th, Capbreton to Dune de Pilat (101m)

On up the Cote d'Argent, we stopped at Vieux-Boucau-les-Bains, a pleasant enogh place with a man-made beach on an etang, and a nice promenade of bars and shops. A paddle and a drink, and then on, with the Atlantic on our left, through miles of pine forest. The 'Cool Campsites' book recommended a site at Cap-de-l'Homy-Plage and, whilst we didn't want to stop for the evening yet, we thought we'd go have a look. The site, a municipal one amongst pine trees, looked great but was probably a bit big for our taste but we decided to go to the beach for a swim while we were there. It was lovely - sunny, quiet, a bit of breeze and sammos and beer went down very well.

Back on the road for the third leg of the day to Dune de Pilat, Europe's biggest sand dune and recommended by loads of people as a sight to behold. It seemed to take an age to drive past it and, although it was late, we decided to forego the pleasure of a night on a 40€ site and headed for the Aire, took our ticket from the machine and parked up.

Sunday 19th, Dune de Pilat to Aytre (142m)

We were awake at 8am and spotted that the barrier at the exit to the park was up. We looked around but couldn't find anybody to whom we could give our money, so left, probably with undue haste! Back the way we had come the previous evening and parked next to the 40€ site for and followed our neighbours, a young German couple, through the trees to the foot of the highest part of the dune. They went straight up, but we, with the wisdom of age, could see that they were struggling just halfway to the top and decided to traverse the slope. It was huge - two steps forward and one back, reminding T of snow climbing but with fine, abrasive sand getting in your boots. K's calf muscles were on fire after five minutes and we both had to pull ourselves on all fours over the cornice at the top.

It was well worth the effort though, with great views out to the ocean in one direction and over the tops of the pine forest in the other, making it look like a lawn. The sand was so fine it formed rivulets as it ran down the hill. After a breather - K expected to see her heart pounding out of her chest like in a cartoon, and T was developing an idea for an entreupreneurial opportunity involving camels - we decided against the grown-up steps further along and jumped off the lip on to the almost vertical slope.

K went first, quite elegant with her long gliding steps but was soon overtaken by T, arms flailing, legs out of control, laughing like a maniac.

We ended up at the foot of the slope giggling like kids and a stroll through the pines took us back to The Rosabella for breakfast of scrambled egg with smoked salmon.

We set off again, heading for La Rochelle. One thing we hadn't accounted for was our ferry trip across the Gironde from Le Verdon to Royan. We arrived at the terminal expecting to pay about a tenner - 42€! - or a detour to Bordeaux which would add another 150 miles to the journey. Coughed up with very bad grace, already coming to the end of our cash for the trip. The ferry ride was enlivened by a conversation with a German couple (he was Michael Schumacher's balder brother!). We were moaned at by crew members for going in to a prohibited area to take photos of our campers. T told the Schui look alike that in Greece we travelled four times as far on a ferry for a tenner - he replied that he was surprised we were still alive!.

We arrived in the environs of La Rochelle on fumes (it was Sunday and there were no filling stations open). We looked for the Aire described in the book and found a nice spot on the front at Place st Jean. We thought we'd carry on though, to find the one described as 'idyllic' in the book. When we thought we'd found it we put the full camping shower bag on the roof to warm and went for a stroll. The shore was covered in shells - it was pleasant enough but not 'idyllic'. In the course of our mooching we found the real Aire and decided to move to it. We returned to find the shower bag on the floor and punctured - quelle domage - but we resolved to replace it as soon as possible. T made up for it - again - by washing K's hair in the sink before we had a Sunday lunch of chicken, spuds and peas.

Monday 20th, Aytre to Lancieux (234 m)

Tomtom directed us to a Carrefour 3 miles away for diesel, loos and supplies. Surprised to find that when we bought a bottle of wine with croissants and bread, the wine was free!

Continued north skirting Nantes and stopping for lunch in a little parking spot next to a field of sunflowers – plenty of cheesy photo opportunities with T thinking about ‘Calendar Girls’ shots!

Next stop was Rennes, where T had been on business a few years previously. Had a nice mooch around the old city and a glass of lovely Breton cidre in a sunny square. Continued towards the end of this French adventure, heading for Dinard. Searched for the Aire at St Lunaire but ended up in a layby overlooking a little cove, alongside a couple of French MHs and amid a patch of beautiful wild flowers. Another peaceful night.

Tuesday 21st, Lancieux to St Malo (25m)

A day of mooching in St Malo. We love the old town but are very fed up that we’ve run out of money! A couple of little prezzies for Fi and Avril and a shared drink whilst watching street entertainers (not brilliant!), lunch on the beach and eventually back to the car park at the St Malo end of the Rance barrage. A few fisherman swigging beers and a couple of MHs but an uninspiring site for our last night in France.

Wednesday 22nd, St Malo to Cleeton St Mary (221m)

After an early start to catch the ferry. we managed to find a very comfy, empty lounge where we dozed and nattered for the seven hours of the trip. We had no money so survived on water and peanuts, although we had made other travellers jealous earlier, by cooking bacon and eggs whilst we waited in the queue to embark! We spoke briefly to a South African who had cycled from Johannesburg to watch the Tour de France and was now about to cycle around Britain. Very impressed!

Arrived in Portsmouth wondering how far our fuel would get us. We eventually gave in at Birmingham, at the M42 services. We put £20-worth in, expecting the card to be refused - it went through OK so we needn’t have worried for the last 100 miles! Home to K’s at midnight, The Rosabella still purring after five great weeks of travelling.

We travelled 1224 miles on the second leg from St Laurent to home, using 166.5 litres of diesel. The whole trip covered 2680 miles and used 347 litres of fuel.

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