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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France, May 14th - 22nd, 2009

Thursday 14th, Home to Dover, (350m).

We left Glen View early - K had to go to work. In Hereford for 8.30am, with K knowing there would be dire consequences if she wasn't out by 2.30 - we had a boat to catch, needed to be in Dover for 9.30 and it was getting on for 300 miles - we didn't want to be pushing The Rosabella too hard. In the event, after T had spent the morning kicking his heels (and buying a GB sticker, and inventing a cargo net out of bungees so that no-one would be decapitated by the contents of the Luton under severe acceleration!), K appeared at a run, on the dot, and we made it to Dover with an hour to spare.

There weren't as many bikes as there had been on last year's Caen crossing but we did natter with a couple who were headed for Le Mans. We arrived at Calais at midnight and had our first Aire-experience on the carpark of Intermarché at Citté Europe. Slept well after a very long day.

Friday 15th - Sunday 17th, Calais to Le Mans (296m).

T was awake early, as usual, and decided to set off for the long drive to the circuit. We left Calais with K still in bed, not waking until our brekkie stop, some 120km on, at Baie de Somme, which turned out to be the back entrance to the motorway services (we were avoiding the Autoroutes). Lots of bikes heading south on the motorway.

Our journey seemed interminable and there were more and more bikes and more and more police checks as we got closer - we reckoned that some riders must have been stopped three or four times.

We eventually hit Le Mans at eightish and headed straight for the circuit, hoping to find a parking spot close to where we were last year, 5 minutes from the main entrance. Sure enough we stopped more or less in exactly the same place and decided to visit the track and have a drink before sorting out a campsite. When we returned to The Rosabella we decided to risk it and stay overnight on the side of the road. We dropped off amidst the noise of the big party on the official site, bikes being revved to, and beyond, their lives, and the motorway 6 feet on the other side of the hedge. We were amazed that we slept like logs, and weren't moved on. Lots of people were walking past on the way to view qualifying so we gulped down a quick brekkie and joined them! It was the same on Saturday night - we didn't move, we slept and by 6.00am the road was full of spectators making their way to the track. We were at our spot by 7.30 and watched the racing in freezing rain, K still cold despite full winter gear including thermals (T had scoffed at her, and then froze!). The big race was won by Jorge Lorenzo and we witnessed his trademark 'flag-plant' right in front of us. Valle fell off, pitted four times and still finished on the same lap as the winner. We made our usual brew in our three feet square of space, much to the amusement of the surrounding crowd, and after the race joined the procession away from the track, with the newly outfitted Teddy Rossi hanging out of the window, waved off by hundreds of local residents.

T had spotted a sign for a campsite as we approached Le Mans on Friday and we decided to head for that. Le Vieux Moulin was a beautiful, quiet (but expensive - the owner taking advantage of race weekend) spot and we had another good night, although K was grumpy that the shower was chilly, although T made up for it by washing her hair in Rosabella's sink!)

Monday 18th, Le Mans to Blois (112m).

The second phase of our journey, to get to Yve's 50th birthday party at Aveyron, via the Loire and the Dordogne. We spent the morning mooching in Le Mans - it's beautiful and the cathedral has some interesting sculptures and frescos. We'd had a lovely relaxed breakfast at Le Vieux Moulin but by the time we left the city T was hungry, and very grumpy, not helped by the fact that we couldn't find the road we wanted. Another loo stop where tripping up a kerb added to T's black mood, and then eventually a signpost for St Calais - the right direction!

We decided to stop for lunch just outside Le Mans, in a clearing in the forest which seemed to have a few white vans parked in it. When we noticed the blacked-out windows and the scantily-clad women in the cabs we twigged that w had joined some kind of mobile brothel, sp beat a hasty retreat! We stopped for soup and sammos a few kilometres down the road but were still bothered by cars pulling in to our layby, the drivers peering in to The Rosabella before speeding off again. K was not impressed with T's idea for adding to our holiday dosh!

We'd decided to head for Blois in order to do a loop along the Loire, and when we arrived we caused a minor stir by pulling in to a bus station, via the wrong way down a one-way street. A very helpful woman directed us to a proper parking place and we set off to have a walk to the aire described in the book. It was on the riverside but pretty full, and we didn't fancy it. Over a beer, we had a look at the tourist map and decided to head for a site at Huisseau-sur-Cosson, not far from Chambord where there was a chateau we wanted to explore. We duly found the site, noone around, so T wandered in to the farmhouse only to find a very grumpy farmer, eating his dinner and complaining tat we should have rung the bell - which he pointed out was right next to where we'd parked. He took our money (12 Euros, compared to the 24 the previous night at Le Mans) and then his wife showed us to a pitch next to a very new Ducato. T wished her 'bon appetit' as she went to resume her interrupted supper - she smiled, thank goodness, and wished us the same!

K had decided that tonight was the first experiment from 'The Bean Book' and, after covering herself and much of The Rosabella with flour, produced fabulous lentil croquettes with pasta. They were washed down with Vin de Table and two exhausted people hit the sack.

Tuesday 19th, Blois (Chambord) to Vertuil-sur-Charente (184m).

Another lovely sunny morning, we watched our neighbours from the brand spanking new Ducato head off on their bikes for the Loire cycle track. T made a big 'Left-Over-Pasta-Fritata' for brekkie before we set off for a look at the Chateau at Chambord. We were already on the car park before we twigged it was going to cost us €10 to get out, or another €10 to look around the Chateau. We decided on the latter, even though we were now on a pretty tight budget to see us through to K's payday. The place was just a complete riot of extravagant architecture, huge, with hundreds of rooms, staircases, passages and corridors to explore. K did have a 'moment' on the roof, but all-in-all an interesting morning, AND The Rosabella's first cheesy sticker! A quick brew and bikkies before we set off on our journey west along the Loire to Tours.

Views of another couple of beautiful chateaux (Bracieux, Cheverney, Chaumont) and then a stop for lunch beside the river at Amboise. A very pleasant half hour watching ducklings running on water to keep up with Mum!

We managed to bypass Tours, via a hypermarket for supplies, and turned south on the D910 to Poitiers, Ruffec and in the direction of Angouleme.

Time was getting on so we took a look in the Aires book and decided to head for the nearest one at the time, just off the N10 at Vertuil-sur-Charente. Following the directions in the book resulted in us being on the wrong side of the river but a bit of exploration led us to a lovely pitch on the edge of a little park. Elder trees were blooming, there were flowers along a little footbridge over the Charente which was itself edged with irises and nasturtiums. The public loo was spotless - it was all just perfect. Experiment 2 from the bean book resulted in chickpea curry - beautiful again, and another great night's sleep. Definitely our best stopover yet.

Wednesday 20th, Vertuil-sur-Charente to Tremolat (158m)

What a delightful place! Muesli and toast in the sun, locals walking their dogs and wishing us 'Bonjour!'. We had a walk in warm sunshine, coffee in the square and a mooch around a little gallery, where K bought big wooden earrings. then a visit to a working flour mill supplying the bakery next door which, in turn, provided bread for a beautiful cafe olongside the millrace. Just lovely - 'Clun with croissants' as T described it.

Reluctantly we left Vertuil on the back roads, heading, we hoped, south toward the valley of the Dordogne. We decided to go slightly more east than our original plan and aimed for Perigueux, via the Perigord-Limousin national park. A beautiful drive with a short detour for lunch beside a little private lake in the middle of 'fois gras' country.

A long push for Bergerac, we stopped for a cuppa just north of the city. K went astern to put the kettle on only to find that the ceiling had fallen down! The vibration must have fractured the fibre glass holding the insulation battens in place. Out with the tools for the first time as T drilled through the hi-top (something we'd hoped to avoid) and secured the battens with coach bolts - not too tight so that the holes wouldn't be enlarged. A bit of free climbing was needed to do the job - just like the old days for T!

We only got to see the industrial bit of Bergerac as we headed east along the Dordogne. Very tired now and aiming for the Aire at Tremolat - spectacular views of the river and a couple of bridges as we drove down to the valley floor.

Tremolat was a pretty place, although a little 'touristy' for us. We had a beer in a busy bistro, and a debate about whether w should buy a pizza - heart said 'yes', budget said 'no' - budget won! Another bean book special, red bean paella, made us glad that we'd decided to eat in.

Having effected the temporary repair on the roof, lo and behold, a thunderstorm and downpour meant that w had water dripping from the ceiling - typical! Nevertheless, another peaceful night in the Aire behind the village hall and, all-in-all, our best day yet.

Thursday 21st, Tremolat to La Bastide- l'Eveque (133m)

Leaks in the ceiling not too much of a problem as the rain hadn't lasted too long. We woke to find ourselves in the gathering area for a cycle race. T went to perform ablutions in the public loo up the road while K moved The Rosabella to the place where we should have actually been parked. As she was pulling aay she was hailed by one of the cyclists who pointed out the flat tyre at the rear, driver's side. T's first thought when he returned was that this was going to be the start of vehicle-angst - the ceiling, the leaky roof and now this. However, the jack worked (with help from the chocks), the wheel came off with no problem, the spare was OK and within 15 minutes we were sorted.

we decided to head ut of town for brekkie but needed a bit of air in the spare. The garage on the outskirts of Tremolat had an open door so T shouted to see if anyone was around. He explained in perfect French to the man who appeared, that we needed to blow our tyre up. The reply, in perfect English, was that we would have to come back tomorrow as today was a holiday (Ascension Day) and ther was no air!!

We drove a few kilometres up the road to a layby with a beautiful view, feeling a bit p'd off and hoping that this wasn't to be the start of a series of hassles, added to by the fact that both cameras were now out of action. While K sorted out boiled eggs and orange juice, T, whilst doing a fine impression of a bear with a sore head, repeated his gymnastics of the previous day to stick gaffer tape over the new ceiling bolts, hopefully making them temprarily waterproof.

We lingered over breakfast and felt loads better when we eventually moved on, south and east, towards the Lot, and then east again to Luzech where we stopped for a look at a bank holiday car-boot sale on the main street. Standard of goods for sale was about as good (bad!) as a typical Harry Tuffin's Sunday.

After a beer we decided to push on the last 60 miles to Yve's party. That's when the next problem reared its ugly head! We'd calculated that we had enough fuel to make it to La Bastide but the gauge was looking dodgy and all the garages were closed. We took it easy to Villefranche, by which time we were really biting our nails. A sign for a 24hr garage and we breathed again - until we discovered that it was self-service and card only, and K wasn't paid until tomorrow. Never mind, push on, only another 10 miles or so. Big uphill out of Villefranche, easy on the accelerator, being tooted at by kids in Novas, and then, the turning for La Bastide, thank goodness. Nice, steep downhill so we can roll - but where's the site? 2 miles on we stopped and asked two old boys who answered (with very strong accents) that the site wasn't actually in La Bastide and we needed to go back up the hill to the main road and carry on for about 5km where we would find the site on the right.

Back up the hill, hardly touching the throttle, limping back on the main road, surely running on fumes now, and there was Tim at the entrance to the site, Gasp!! 

Friday 22nd, La Bastide l'Eveque

A lovely day - sunbathing, eating, drinking, swimming in the lake, generally relaxing.

Highlights: "Fancy a gin Kay?" "Mmm, yes please" - a litre later and Gill and K were definitely on a roll; Arnaud, with a very sexy 'Bonne Anniversaire' - for Cliff!; silly noises as we went in and out of Tim and Gill's caravan; community singing as T led the French ensemble in the English versio of 'Allouette', followed by 'Sunshine Mountain'. All in all a great party for Yve's 50th birthday.

Saturday 23rd, La Bastide l'Eveque to St Laurent de la Salanque (223m)

K, much the worse for wear, was still in bed as we bounced back up the track and to Villefranche, refuelled with a canful of diesel we'd bought on our shopping trip with Tim the previous day. Le Clerc was only just opening as we arrived so we hung around for a few minutes, giving K the chance to dress and look at the damage revealed in the mirror. Filled up, we set off on the final leg of the first half of our European adventure. We blew up our soft tyre after a few miles, and stopped for brekkie of croissants that we'd bought in Villefranche, at Pont Sarlat.

K was feeling a little better by now and when we reached the Tarn Viaduct was well enough to be excited and do the touristy bit by going to the viewing area for a spectacular perspective of this fantastic sight.

On we pushed to Bezieres, down the road that T had travelled a years earlier, with great scenery all the way down the hill. A trip around Bezieres' one way system before T realised that he was confusing the place with Narbonne, and on, stopping for lunch in a poppy field - again in the middle of a mobile brothel!

Barcares, the Mediterranean and more or less journey's end. A tidy-up of The Rosabella, and of ourselves, before dinner at the Paraguer in St Laurent and a pitch outside Tim's house.

Sunday 24th, St Laurent to home.
A quick drive to the airport with The Rosabella left on the carpark awaiting Tim. All in all a great trip - The Rosabella had behaved impeccably and as we waved goodbye to her sitting at the side of the runway we were already looking forward five weeks when we picked her up again (having been looked after by Fabrice, Jack and George) for the next leg of our adventure.

Overall: 11 days, 1456 miles covered, 180.7 litres of diesel used.

View France, May 2009 in a larger map

April & May, 2009

Little jobs at home:

• Empty The Rosabella completely for stocktake
• Remove cupboard under sliding door and make good damage!
• Fit auxilliary 12v socket
• Line storage bays
• Clear more space for supplies
• Store new bedding
• Restock
• Oil change (113200 miles)

Devon - 9th-13th April 2009

Thursday 9th

T had a long and trying, eve-of-Bank-Holiday, drive down to Exeter in order to meet K who had been working in Plymouth. The nearest food to Exeter, St David's station was a Pizza Hut on a nearby retail park. We couldn't believe that they had 'sold out of everything' by 8pm at the start of a Bank Holiday. Carried on - T in a black mood (well greyish anyway, because he was pleased to see K) - to Teignmouth which seemed to be in 'ghost town' mode. The only place which had any lights on was what looked like a little corner cafe. Pushing open the door we entered what seemed like a parallel dimension - a beautiful Greek restaurant, bustling, noisy with a great welcome from the owner Nick (what else could his name be!). The food was great and plentiful and we left with our faith in the world restored. We headed back up the hill to Holcombe Down and soon found an ideal, silent lay-by where we slept the sleep of the contented.

Friday 10th - Good Friday

We awoke to the sound of silence - we'd only noticed one car pass during the night. We decided to head down to Shaldon for a fly-by before our brekkie stop high above the coast at Labrador Bay. After a little leg-stretcher we carried on to Dartmouth, where we'd arranged to meet T's sister. The ferry was, as usual, scary - just what would happen if the little shunting boat missed the raft with the cars? Parking in Dartmouth on Good Friday is a nightmare. We eventually found a spot in a car park and had no change for the machine - we were beyond caring by then so just left The Rosabella to the whim of the traffic wardens, reckoning that she would be able to charm herself out of trouble! Had a couple of beers and and an hours chinwagging with Gayle and her daughters before continuing towards Salcombe. We drove through Hope Cove before finding an excellent site at Bolberrow Farm, where we esconsed ourselves before returning to Salcombe for a mooch and fish and chips on the harbour. The place seemed to be full of 'okay yah' twelve year olds squealing and giggling and talking about boys being 'soooo immature'. Were we really like that once (without the okay yah bit)?

Saturday 11th
We had another peaceful night, this time on The Rosabella's first ever, proper camp site, and awoke to a beautiful, clear, frosty morning. As we brekkied outside we were told by a very enthusiastic site owner about a walk down to Hope Cove via a coastal path. We decided to stick to our original plan of heading back to Salcombe for a further mooch in the sun. We had coffee on the harbour and bought a prezzie for The Rosabella - a 'Live Life In The Slow Lane' sticker, hoping it may raise a smile in those stuck behind us on the road, or, if not, annoy them even more! Returning to the site after lunch we went on the recommended walk along the coast and in to Hope. T couldn't resist the temptation to help a couple of blokes who were struggling to load a dinghy on to a trailer and then spent half an hour regailing K with the story of how he managed to cut off the electricity supply to a whole French village by driving a dinghy on a trailer, with the mast up, through the HT line. A quick pint in the Hope Cove pub and a walk back to the site in the gathering dusk, after watching a gorgeous sunset over the sea. As we walked stars appeared, twinkling in a deep blue sky. A tractor was still ploughing although it was after 10pm - it was an idyllic night, another deep, peaceful sleep in The Rosabella's care.

Sunday 12th - Easter Day

Another beautiful morning, warm and sunny. K awoke to see a giant rabbit emerging from the tent on the next pitch - well, a man with pink bunny-ears anyway! A leisurely breakfast outdoors and then T dozing whilst pretending to do yesterday's crossword. He was wearing his new shorts for the first time - they had been his favourite trousers yesterday but he managed to set fire to them by standing too close to a candle the previous night, burning his knee in the process. He had been looking for shorts in Salcombe yesterday - no need now. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and all that! We decided to stay put at Bolberrow and pottered about fettling The Rosabella and listening to our Van Morrison albums. Very chilled out! We walked again in to Hope Cove and saw our first swallows of the year, bluebells, butterflys and, on the way back in the dusk again, bats. Another beautiful sunset and we decided to eat al fresco, complete with duvet jackets and woolly hats to fend off the frost!

13th April - Bank Holiday Monday
Time to leave came early as T drove to a cliff-top car park for brekkie, with K still in bed. We took in the spectacular views before heading for home. traffic was heavy - we lunched in a jam and swapped drivers at Exeter. We enjoyed a leisurely drive home, T completely relaxed with his feet on the dashboard, listening to the countdown of the 'most played records of all time' (Everley Bros, 'Dream' in 3rd; Queen, 'Bohemian Rhapsody' in 2nd; and yes, Procul Harum, 'Whiter Shade Of Pale' in 1st place, just in case you're interested!). Stopped off to see K's parents in Bristol, taking the route over the suspension bridge and avoiding the traffic, and then on to K's for a good sleep before work on Tuesday. 529 miles covered and, all in all, an excellent, relaxing Bank Holiday trip.

Tonfanau, 28th February - 1st March 2009

Saturday 28th

Lying-in at T's on Saturday morning but couldn't resist the sunshine, so packed The Rosabella and headed for our favourite site, Cae Du at Tonfanau. Went via Newtown in order to pick up supplies at Morrisons and a few bits and pieces needed for fettling of The Rosabella. Managed the former but Focus DIY useless - as normal. Lunch overlooking the golf course and sea at Aberdovey and stopped in Towyn in the hope that the little hardware shop in the High Street would have the tools T wanted - result! And a plug for the sink as well! Cae Du was still closed for the winter but the farmer's wife was persuaded that we were self sufficient and didn't need the switched-off services - we bought eggs as a thank you! K went walkabout while T tried to sort the aerial out - couldn't do it because it was dark but rigged temporary arrangement so soft music over dinner of pasta and smoked salmon.

Cae Du, Tonfanau






Sunday 1st

Another lovely day - woke to the sound of the sea and oyster catchers. Lay in with lots of tea watching pochards and mallards on the sea. After brekkie sorted aerial out - it's now fitted and working. Spring-cleaned The Rosabella and T managed to whack his head very hard on the back door. Nattered with the farmer as we left the site, heading for Aberdovey for lunch. It was very busy for St David's Day but we managed to find a balcony seat in The Dovey Arms and had our roast beef lunch outside - at the beginning of March! Home via Llyn Clwedog, picturesque as usual and back in time for tea. A good, rlaxed, no-stress weekend.

Llyn Clwedog

Scotland, 11th - 15th February 2009

Wednesday 11th
We left home 8pm-ish for our first proper trip in The Rosabella. An hour later we were still eating our chips in Shrewsbury! We headed north, up the M6, turning off at Killington Lakes. After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing we found a little pull-in on a lane overlooking the lake and bedded down at about 1am. It was cold - again, our completely OTT anti-freeze measures did the trick.












Killington Lake



Thursday 12th
Heading further north through the odd snow flurry. We decidede to visit Colin and Diana (two of K's old students), and Ripley (their assistance dog!) in Glasgow on the way up in order that the trip home wouldn't be too hurried. Stopping for soup and sammos at the M74 services it was snowing heavily - gritters, snowploughs and a number of accidents was evidence of how bad the weather was becoming. After a cuppa with C&D we resumed the trek north with another couple of hours to do.
Glencoe was dark and scary but T remembered The Clachaig Inn which he'd visited on a climbing expedition years before. We stopped off there for food and a drink. The ambience was great and there was a bit of live music to boot.
We set off again, looking for a pitch, ending up in Glen Nevis. We bedded down at about midnight, not as cold as the previous night but slightly worried about being moved on - every layby except ours had 'no overnight' signs.









Glen Nevis

Friday 13th

Awoke from what K announced as 'the best night's sleep ever!' Although snow was all around it seemed much milder. T returned after his visit to nature's bathroom announcing that he'd had an audience of yaks (well, Highland cattle anyway).

After tea in bed T decided to see how far up the Glen we could take The Rosabella. K refused to move so we set off with her still esconced! The lane became more and more of a struggle and soon The Rosabella was behaving like a 'fairy on a gob o' lard', to use an old Black Country expression. The final fifty metres proved too much, resulting in a delicate reversing manoeuvre, on an ice slab, over a narrow wooden bridge. K looked a picture (of something) in her thermal jim-jams, walking boots and furry hat as she shouted (useless) directions to T through Rosabella's open rear doors.
As T brought Rosabella to rest, K made an unexpected friend. A robin, obviously highly entertained by our shenanegans ahd taken a shine to her. He followed her back to the bridge and before long was pitching on her fingers, confidently taking crumbs from her palm. He was joined by a great tit and while T recovered from the trauma of the reversing exercise they took turns sitting on her hand and feeding.











K makes a new friend, whilst T struggles!!!



We were close to the car park at the end of the track and in one last effort we pushed, revved, slipped and slid to the top. safely parked it was time for brekkie before we prepared for our walk to the Steall Falls.



K: "You said it was just a little ramble!"

T: "It is"

K: "So why is there a sign saying 'Danger Of Death' at the start of the track?"

T: "That's to remind you not to give all of your food supplies to small birds!!"

The walk was spectacular and would have been an easy stroll if not for the ice covered rock underfoot. As it was it took a lot of concentration as we walked upstream, past water-cut gashes in the rock, solid waterfalls, along the edge of sheer drops to boulders. We squeezed between a couple of boulders and the vista opened in front of us - a big, snow-covered meadow with the waterfall, An Steall Ban, obvious in the distance At the far end, just below the falls there was a three-cable 'Burma Bridge' to be negotiated. K's arms were only just long enough but the crossing was one of the highlights of the day.

Cable bridge below Steall Falls

On the way back down we met three Canadian girls who were stereotypical accidents waiting to happen - trainers, jeans, thin jackets, setting out at 3.30pm on a midwinter day. T suggested to them that they may find it a bit of a struggle further up the track and, thank goodness, they turned back with us.

A quick cuppa and then back in to Fort William for supplies - tonight was going to be Haggis du Rosabella. A quick spin back to The Clachaig where K asked the receptionist if she knew of anywhere we could pitch for the night (a bit cheeky really seeing as how The Clachaig is a hotel!). The receptionist was very cool (in the positive sense) - 'no problem, just stay on the car park'. Result! Haggis was fab - the real thing for T, veggie version for K - although T preferred that as well - followed by an evening next to the huge log fire in the bar, lovely beer and a great atmosphere. The Rosabella was a short stagger away and we both slept like logs, apart from one short punctuation when we were entertained by a piper at two in the morning.

Without a doubt, one of our best days ever.

Saturday 14th

Back into Glencoe for brekkie opposite Bidean nam Bian, the fantastic triple cliff of the Three Sisters of Glencoe. Decided it would be bad form to park on the helicopter landing pad so parked in a layby for 'Princess Eggs' and photos.

Off south again - for part of K's bithday prezzie, coupled with Valentine's Day, we had a room booked in a hotel at Moffatt and wanted to be there in time to take advantage of warm baths. Spectacular views of snow on The Trossachs and lunch on the move as we made our way through the Glasgow traffic. We arrived at Moffatt at around 5.00pm, looking forward to said hot baths and changing into posh clothes for a special St Val's dinner. K, therefore, was very grumpy because the bath took for ever to run hot. It all worked out in the end though, and complimentary champagne cocktails made it all feel better.

Sunday 15th

After a great night and a huge brekkie it was off again with a plan to stop off at Samye Ling monastery on the way home. The Tibetan tea room was open this time, and the building of the new block is coming on apace. After a couple of hours, including an hour of very therapeutic meditation in the beautiful prayer room, it was back on the road again, heading for home. We stopped for a quick cup-a-soup at Gretna before continuing hammering (or as close as The Rosabella gets to hammering) south. Almost home and the 'phone rang - Keith wondering whether we were going to the pub that evening. We were still north of Manchester actually but decided we should milk every minute of the weekend and so kept going to Montgomery, The Dragon, supper and a good relaxing end to the trip with Keith, Lizzie and Sue.

All in all a good trip. We covered 860 miles, The Rosabella is fab, comfy and we didn't freeze to death - we can't wait for our next trip.


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