Pwllheli, 23rd - 25th April, 2010 (216m)

Friday 23rd April
We'd been working like Trojans this week, continuing with the 'improvements' to The Rosabella. The alternator gave up the ghost on Wednesday evening and, with no time for visiting scrappies,we had no alternative but to get Harold from the corner garage to fix it. £178, plus another £40 for an oil and filter change while he was at it. Ouch! And 'ouch!' as well because T had hurt his back lugging the leisure battery around.

T was still sawing and screwing when Jac arrived and we eventually set off at about 6pm. It's a lovely route up to Porthmadoc from T's, via Welshpool (chips!), Dolgellau and Trawsfynydd and it was a beautiful, bright spring evening. We arrived at Neil's house, on the promenade at Pwllheli, at around 9pm to find the wine flowing and the curry bubbling. We were introduced to Tim, a friend of Neil's and Sue's, who 'had a surprise for us tomorrow'. We went to bed overlooking the beach, tired, full and intrigued.

Saturday 24th April

We were both cold in the night and neither of us slept well. T had the kettle on at 7ish (one of the benefits of The Rosabella's new layout is that we can make the tea from bed!).

We'd been told that we were going out to breakfast and at 10 o'clock we duly headed for the marina. Tim was waiting for us on his 45' motor catamaran, Stray Cat. It was beautiful, luxurious, the sun was beating down and we all felt very privileged that Tim would share his boat with us for a little while. We headed off for St Tudwall's island, the plan being to drop anchor and have breakfast, a bit of a sing and then be back by mid-afternoon.

Sue spotted a dolphin a couple of hundred yards off our port side and Tim steered towards the spot. Suddenly we were surrounded by the whole pod, probably 10 animals, Bottlenose dolphins of various ages. They swam between the hulls of the cat, jumped and rolled all around us and generally entertained us for about fifteen minutes. Everyone was so excited at such a close encounter with these wonderful creatures - a never-to-be-forgotten experience.

Tim then announced that one of Stray Cat's engines was failing and that we were heading back to port. The sun was glorious and, when out of the breeze, very warm. We waited at the entrance to the marina for the maritime version of the AA man to turn up, which he did and fixed the errant motor quickly. We then spent an hour working through our repertoire, singing hard to hear ourselves in the open space. Eventually hoarse, we stopped for brunch of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs - lovely, and very welcome.


Neil had asked if we would sing a few songs in the yacht club on Saturday evening, in return for our drinks. We were struggling a little after our vocal exertions on the boat but we started with a couple of old favourites and, before we knew it, we were in to a full-blown gig to a packed room. We sang ourselves to a standstill and were fed and watered - chips, mayo, wine and beer (so much wine that we had to take some back to Neil's). More curry before crashing, exhausted again, to bed in The Rosabella.

Sunday 25th April

No problems sleeping last night - warm, cosy and completely worn out. Even T slept till 8 o'clock! We mooched, with Jac, around town and up to the chandlery for a couple of bits and pieces before returning to a huge Sunday roast lunch, cooked by Neil and Sue. A big effort was needed to move and head for home (via the Gelert factory shop!) after a great, fun, knackering weekend with Rapsquillion - what a lovely group of people to spend time with!

Devon - 1st-5th April 2010 (504m)

 

Thursday 1st April

We had been working very hard to get The Rosabella habitable in time for a trip away at Easter. The plan was that we would spend Friday in Bristol with K's family, celebrating her dad's eightieth birthday, and then carry on down to Devon, to the site at Bolberry that we'd visited and enjoyed last year.

There were a few last minute jobs to do, nothing important, just fitting the sink and cooker, so T, having been unable to escape from work early, carried on when he got home from work while K organised the bedding, supplies, kitchen ware, clothes and so on.

We set off at about 9.30, very tired but excited at the thought of our first trip since August and, once again, camping wild in The Rosabella, although there was also some trepidation about whether the new set up would work and be comfy, and about The Rosabella's mechanical state - the suspension needs some work.

Fish and chips in Bishop Castle and then on down to the Forest of Dean, where we'd decided to try and find a 'wild' site, as recommended on a website. Nothing doing, apart from a herd of deer crossing the road in ghostly fashion. We turned into a lane which became progressively narrower and narrower, T more and more stressed until we were saved by TomTom directing us to a main road which we recognised as the one we'd turned off half an hour before.

T, fed up and tired, suggested we stayed near Tintern Abbey, so the car park at the back of the ruins was where we spent our first night in the rebuilt-but-not-quite-finished Rosabella. It was pouring with rain and freezing cold outside but, as usual, we were snug in The Rosabella's care.

Friday 2nd April

Awoke to see the ruins towering over us and storm clouds gathering on the hilltops. We were up and off early and stoped at Aust services for brekkie and use of the facilities. We rang K's dad to sing him all three versions of 'Happy Birthday' before making our way to their house at Bristol for hot showers before the celebration lunch at Arno's Court. A good time was had by all despite the quarrels over the 'Bristol' quiz (including K's mum's outrage at T's interpretation of the Bristol motto). K's brother couldn't make it but, nevertheless, K's dad seemed to have a lovely time.

We were on the road again at five-ish, heading to Bolberry. After a long but relaxing journey we arrived on the almost empty site tired and looking forward to bed. We opened the bubbly and toasted K's dad, Colin (who just landed a job) and The Rosabella. We settled down for the night with heavy rain pattering on the roof and The Rosabella rocking in a heavy breeze although it would have taken a fully fledged hurricane to disturb this pair of weary travellers. We both slept well in the peace of Bolberry.

Saturday 3rd April

Tea and biccies in bed, as per usual, and T decided, before breakfast, to get on with one of the jobs that needed doing - drilling a hole in the floor for  the drain from the sink. He had a look from inside and, deciding that he didn't want to drill through any brake pipes or electric cables, thought he should drill up from underneath. Measurements were taken and he duly pushed a probe drill up into what he thought was roughly the right place. "K, can you have a look and see where the drill has come through please?"  "Erm... yes.... you've drilled straight through the water tank. It's pouring out!" Many expletives later, when the mopping up was done, T admitted that it would have been a good idea to remove the tank first. So now we had no water OR drainage! Parking right next to the tap proved to be handy so, unperturbed, we tucked into Millionaire's Brekkie - scrambled egg with smoked salmon, washed down with Buck's Fizz.

A decision to head for Salcombe for a mooch (and a visit to the chandler's for hose and, now, a replacement water tank) was initially thwarted when we bogged down after a couple of yards - the outcome of the heavy rain of the last couple of nights, added to by the contents of our neatly drilled water tank. K called Fiona, the site owner, and together with her son they managed to push The Rosabella to dry land and away.

Salcombe was duly mooched, the essential purchases made (including a bargain Fat Face top for T) and a good lunch in an old, friendly pub.

K's Strogonoff for supper, a fully functioning water system, and the best night's sleep for many months put the cap on a very pleasant day.

Sunday 4th April (Easter Day)

What a lovely start to the day! Dozing in the sunshine, breakfast of hot-cross buns and easter egg, listening to the Malaysian Grand Prix on the radio (won by Sebastian Vettel incidentally) and then a lovely walk along the coast path to Hope Cove.

The Hope and Anchor was packed but we managed to find a corner and had lovely lunches - a ploughman's for T and a lovely mozarella, cherry tomato and spinach pudding for K. This was followed by a beautiful honecomb ice cream, eaten in the sun overlooking the beach.

Legs were like lead even before the walk back up the lane to Bolberry and, again, we both dozed in the sun for a couple of hours before we realised that an early night was just what we both needed.

Monday 5th April

Another good night although we both woke up cold. We nattered with Fiona about work, the weather, the internet, while we finished up our Millionaire's Brekkie bits.

A relaxed trip home - a bit of traffic at Newton Abbot - with both of us realising how much we'd needed the break.

Winter, 2009-2010

Last winter was hard going!

T's Dad passed away in December (see the post at the end of the blog).

It was confirmed that K was going to be made redundant, however, on the day she was due to be given notice the college offered her a different job - not what she wanted to be doing but a job nevertheless.

And then, in October 2009, T was notified that his job was likely to go in a reorganisation. He wasn't too perturbed as the private business is doing OK so he applied for redundancy and early retirement - more travels beckoned. Then, in February, he was told that the reorganisation had been reorganised and that he would be staying after all. C'est la vie!

The winter proved harsh from the point of view of the weather as well. Lots of snow for weeks on end meant that when we weren't snowed in we were struggling to get to and from work.

On the upside, we've been to France twice (Rosie-less). In October we started with the Festival of the Eel in St Laurent and then drove to St Tropez for a couple of weeks, and in March the band had a return trip to St Laurent, ostensibly to work on music, with a couple of gigs thrown in for good measure.

T's car was suffering from alfaelectricitis and so The Rosabella became day-to-day transport. She was great in the bad weather but is now in dire need of a rest. We also decided to reconfigure the interior so she has been gutted and we are aiming to be able to use her at Easter - a tight schedule but something to aim at. Watch this space!

              

West Wales, Bank Holiday, 28th-31st August 2009 (436m)

Friday 28th

It hadn't been a good week. T was worried about his dad and K had had confirmation that her job was to be made redundant - we decided to give ourselves Friday off. The Rosabella had sprung a couple of leaks where T had fixed the roof in France so after gaffer-taping over the bolts we set off at around 4pm, heading west and south for St Davids. We took a stunning route through the Cambrian Mountains, listening to Chris Evan's Beatles request show and feeling smug as we heard Sally Traffic announcing chaos on the nation's roads - we tried to send a gloating text but there was no signal in the hills. We promised ourselves a return to this gorgeous area as soon as possible.

At the first bit of civilisation after the wilds we found a chip van, which we patronised before heading on for the site that T knew at Abercastle. It was, however, non-existant so we drove around for a while before esconcing ourselves on a site (which had a Rolf Harris CD playing in the spotless loos!).

                                                     Saturday 29th

A good night's sleep, a brief use of the facilities and we exited.

Back to Abercastle and a parking spot at the water's edge where we had a lazy morning being entertained by canoeists, walkers, kids and dogs (T was very taken with the idea of getting a canoe!) One highlight was an 'old man of the sea' who arrived in a tractor, hitched a boat on to the back and then drove across the foreshore to the water unaware of the fact that his boat had untied itself and stayed put. He looked very puzzled as he walked to the rear of his tractor, scratching his head, and then falling over laughing!

We decided we ought to do something and went for a walk along the headland for a mile or so. The coastline was spectacular and it was a warm, but breezy, day. Back at the harbour we talked with a family who had been canoeing. Smooth talking dad, polite but pretentious daughter and mum who said she could 'see blue gingham' working in The Rosabella's windows! T was still keen on canoeing though!

We reluctantly left Abercastle and headed for St Davids, on the way taking in Porthgain, another quiet little harbour. The Shed seafood bistro had been recommended to us but unfortunately plans for an evening out had to be shelved as they were fully booked. We reserved a table for Sunday lunch instead. St Davids was wet and busy. We went in to the cathedral where the choir were practicing for Evensong, and spent twenty minutes in reverie, listening to the voices reverberating around the space. Back to the real world and after a cuppa and a cake in a cafe that seemed to be run by twelve year olds we set off to find an overnight site We had toyed with the idea of staying at Abercastle but weren't sure. After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing we took one last turn into a lane which led us to Abereiddy, a small bay, bounded by rocks and with a good sized carpark. There was the usual 'Overnight Parking Prohibited' sign but noone was around apart from a small MH at the far end of the carpark so we decided to take a chance, hid ourselves in a corner and enjoyed a K special of tuna pasta with wine and soft music, the sound of the ocean in the background, and a lovely, peaceful, night.

Sunday 30th

We enjoyed the solitude of the spot before the influx of surfers, coasteerers and walkers. We lolled in The Rosabella for a while and then headed off to Porthgain for our Sunday lunch. The Shed lived up to its billing - although it was pouring with rain outside, the interior felt light and summery. The place was simple but classy and our meals were superb.

Back at base camp we took a walk on the beach in the dark, and a surprisingly warm paddle, before turning in for the night.

Monday 31st

The final day of the Bank Holiday and it was lashing down. Nevertheless the little beach was very busy with wetsuited families. We did see one couple going for a dip in their swimmies and when we went for a walk to the blue lagoon we bumped into them. They confirmed that it had been 'fresh!' and so, on our return to The Rosabella, we decided that it had to be done. We raced down the beach like ten year olds and splashed around in the cold, grey-green water. It was exhilarating to say the least and the source of some amusement to the onlookers. The couple parked next to The Rosabella said that they thought we were mad - T told them we were trying to save on soap!

We spent the rest of the day watching the world go by, leaving at 6pm for home, feeling completely relaxed. We must go back some time when the sun is shining!

View West Wales, Bank Holiday 2009 in a larger map

The Rhinogs, 21st-23rd August 2009 (222m)

Friday 21st

We left T's house at 6-ish, not sure where we were heading for! We discussed an overnight at Cae Ddu, maybe Dinas Mawddwy but in the event kept going. T remembered a carpark for the Roman Steps walk in the Rhinogs, north of Barmouth, so we decided to head there. We ignored Tomtom (as you do!) and ended up on a very narrow, very steep, very overgrown, very twisty (5-point turn hairpins!), very gated (good exercise for K!), very dark, very spooky lane. We eventually arrived at the carpark to find that half a dozen others had had the same sleepover idea. There were a couple of woodfires twinkling, we found a spot next to a stream, had a glass of red and hit the sack.

Saturday 22nd

Awoke to a beautiful morning and a gorgeous site with a stream, trees and surrounded by mountains. (One of the beauties of arriving in the dark is the lovely surprise you inevitably experience when you awake in the light). We had a leisurely breakfast, washed our teeth in the stream and paid a very chatty man £7 for the overnight stay.

We headed off up toward the Roman Steps, crossing paths with a party of lads who were looking for a fork in the track - unsuccessfully! They eventually headed off across rough ground and vanished.

We reached the top of the Steps and struck off left to a weird shaped double cairn for our sandwiches and water.

After messing about for a while taking photos we decided to carry on to the main peak, Rhinog Fawr. A pleasant walk up to a small lake and a view of an accident waiting to happen in the form of a group in jeans and sandals climbing a very steep, loose, gully.

We took the decision not to go to the top but to wend our way down via another lake described as 'stunning' in the guide. We saw the group again, on their way down, lost and spread over the hill. T directed a couple of them down but we heard later that the mountain rescue team had had to find one of them on the far side of the hill.

We struggled a little on a heather-covered boulder field, K in particular finding the descent uncomfortable, but eventually found a lovely vantage point above the lake with views out to sea in the distance and the sound of a rushing stream from way beneath us. We dallied, regaining our breath and equilibrium after the dodgy descent and then followed a simple path down to The Rosabella after 7 hours on the hill.

We swilled off the trail dust and changed out of our 'uphill' clothes. K put on a long dress and make-up and lit candles while T found some soft music to accompany our very improvised dinner of pasta and chillie tomato sauce. It was a wonderful end to a great day.

Sunday 23rd

Took ages to wake up for a change - even T was dozy instead of the usual instant switch-on. Enjoyed no 1 breakfast and were collared by head keeper for our site fee - this time we let him engage us in conversation - only for half an hour!

We carried on up to Alan and Norma's, in Rhos-on-Sea, for a nice lunch and then home via Betws-y-Coed, where K, with next winter's adventures in mind, topped up her supply of base layers. Arrived home 7ish after a good weekend.


View Rhinog Fawr in a larger map

Llanthony Priory, 7th-9th August 2009 (182m)

riday 7th

T arrived in Hereford to pick up K at 6.30ish after work and we headed south for the Marches. Tomtom managed to take us down an ‘unsuitable for motor vehicles’ road (track, actually) necessitating some seven-point turning, although it wasn’t a major event. After driving a few more miles we found the Priory campsite amidst the hills and in a field next to the ruins. The farmer was initially reluctant when K told him we were in a MH but was welcoming when she explained it was a Rosabella, not a Winnie. We found a quiet spot, parked up and went for a beer in the pub that is built in to the ruins. When we returned the site had filled up – a few lads were throwing a rugby ball around, and there was an impromptu, and very amusing, sack race (well, sleeping bag race anyway!). Next to us was a Reliant with a man sitting in contemplation, and a fellow who was belching for England.

Saturday 8th

We’d both had a very stressful week and so felt refreshed after we slept well in The Rosabella’s care. A quick brekkie and we set off for the top of the ridge, T promising it would be just a little stroll. It was very hot and we were looking forward to the breeze that gaining the ridge would bring.

The views were spectacular and we decided to carry on along the crest of the ridge for a circular route which T had devised.

We rested at the trig point for our sammos, with lots of other walkers passing by, including a group of Japanese tourists resplendent with their parasols – it was definitely not like France here!

We descended past hidden waterfalls and through head-high bracken, down to the road and what seemed like an interminable slog back to the site. Our ‘short stroll’ had taken 6½ hours and everything was aching!

A quick wash and change and a walk to the pub (The Half Moon) for great food, even better beer and an interesting evening in the company of a man from Malvern who designed and made assistive technology – right up our street – although we all made less and less sense as we enjoyed the beer. We swapped addresses though, as there may be some scope for us to talk again.

We strolled back through the, by now, dark fields to The Rosabella and were fascinated to see a UFO rise from the fields to our right, straight up to quite an altitude and then away to the west. We realised it was a lantern – it looked beautiful, although a little spooky as it drifted silently away.

Sunday 9th

Mr Reliant and Burpman had been joined by their friends - all bikers or ex-bikers. We nattered to a couple of them - one with a self-build with whom we swopped ideas about insulation.
It was very hot and we had lunch outside, watching the world go by. We were very relaxed, if a bit achey from yesterday's exertions, although it was well worth the pain.
We had a relatively quick trip home, via Hay on Wye for ice creams and book browsing - altogether a good relaxing weekend.


View Llanthony Priory in a larger map

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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