From Bristol to the Catalan Coast

The first travel day is a bear. The straight flight to London, then the long slough to Bristol via train and the wait for our hotel room to be ready. We took turns strolling Bristol, soaking in the picturesque river and dipping into the Cathedral. After one night in a hotel room, we first boarded the wrong train due to a cancellation and then had to navigate a cascade of ripple effect route changes to make it to the right place. Picking up the campervan was seamless then straight to the Cheddar market to pick up a few essentials and finally to Cheddar Bridge campsite where we could finally relax.

Click for photo album, “i” for descriptions

Britains of all ages show their deep appreciation for the rare treat of a sunny warm day in many ways. They drape themselves on benches with books, spread out on grassy lawns, and gather with friends on restaurant patios. Campgrounds are filled with people stretched out, faces raised to bask in the glorious sun. They’ve had several sunny days in a row now so a good number sport sunburns.

Bristol

Thinking the night would be warm, we didn’t turn on the campervan’s heat before turning in and both had a cold, sleepless night not wanting to disturb the other, whom we assumed was sleeping soundly. So much for conquering jet lag! 

The next U.K. direct to Santander, Spain ferry was several days away. A camp employee told us about a friend whose camper alarm had triggered on the overnight ferry to Santander draining the battery so it had to be towed off the ferry and was impounded for a month before it could be fitted with a new battery. We opted to take the shorter Dover to Calais ferry and drive thru France. Spain would have a few more days to recover from the power failure they had suffered which caused chaos. It also meant to we had to pick a new entry point to Spain so we chose Girona.

On our second night in Cheddar we opted for a Greek restaurant and I chose the vegetarian “bifteka.” It was mashed potatoes mixed with a few peas, kernels of corn and flecks of carrots, fried into patties and served over, you guessed it, french fries. A generous estimate would be four grams of protein. 

The drive to Black Horse Farm campsite in Folkestone went smoothly. We used the WiFi at the local pub to reserve a ferry for the following day. The couch up front gave us a view of the sparkling waters, but a good deal of my time was spent trying to find a campsite for the night. In and around Paris was fully booked. While Dermot drove, I got my Airalo eSIM to work (finally) and continued the search. Calls weren’t working so we just headed for a campsite that was off the beaten track and crossed our fingers. 

The drive through the country was so pretty. Rolling hills of patchwork farmland were bright yellow and every shade of green from chartreuse to deep olive. We feared we’d end up in a parking lot but leafy Camping Le Bois des pêcheurs outside the village of Poix-de-Picardi rescued us and we happily ate a cold dinner cobbled together from our supermarket finds from earlier in the day.  That night I made reservations for the next night stay in Camping d’Olivet outside Orleans. 

You’d think a mere three hour drive would leave plenty of time to pop into Orleans and do some sight seeing before heading to the campsite but this isn’t our first European adventure so we headed to the campsite first. Roadwork detours took us down roads ranging from poor to extremely bad necessitating walking pace speed. The forecast called for thunderstorms so we chose to spend the night making do with campsite pizza and salad and move on the next day.

It’s shoulder season so many campgrounds aren’t open yet. Finding a place about four hours driving away further restricted our choices. "Cosy Camp" was open but on arrival it was more dirty than cosy. We found the nearby Camping le Galier and spent one soggy night there after carefully selecting the site we hoped was least likely to flood or require a tow out of. We’d have stayed another day here to hike if the weather had cooperated.

General Observations of Spain:

People are friendly here in Catalonia where both Catalan and Spanish are the co-official languages. We noticed many also speak French. There are a lot of French tourists and locals usually greet us in French assuming we’re the same. I’m pretty sure the French would be mortified. Driving here is a bit more chaotic than in France and things look a bit rougher around the edges.

You really know you’re in Spain when the grocery stores have a literal wall of pernils - hams. These aren’t your garden variety ham, they have raised the curing process to an art form and the prices reflect it. At one grocery store the counter that displayed them was brightly lit and so sharply appointed it almost looked like a jewelry case.

Cadaques

Driving through the Aveyron region was mountainous and lovely. Our email to a campsite in the Cadaqués went unanswered so we just took a chance. The last stretch was through a narrow, winding mountainous road with beautiful vistas steeply down to valleys or the sea. Then our van dashboard started flashing a red oil can along with a wrench and we suddenly realized we hadn’t seen any exits. We drove straight to a gas station that thankfully had oil and we added a quart but that didn’t fix it. 

We arrived at weCamp in Cadaques and were extremely happy they had space. The next morning we took a stroll under cloudy skies around the town which has a nice beach area, a casino and interesting history. We had a delicious lunch and then prepared for our tour of Salvador and Gala Dali’s house and gardens which the campsite staff had arranged. I’m so glad we visited but it would take forever to describe all the surreal details and photos can’t convey the experience. I loved the gardens with the many outdoor “rooms.” The penis-shaped pool and must have been the place for parties. 

The interior rooms were also full of oddities in nearly every corner of the house. When Gala, his love, model and muse died, Dali left the house never to return leaving two unfinished paintings on their easels.

Figueres

We were too nervous about the van’s warning lights to hazard going further out to Far del Cap de Creus so we headed inland and scheduled service on the van. That night while at Camping Esponella, we were told an oil change had been completed before we left and our contact figured the garage had just forgotten to reset the service indicator on it. Reassured, we toured the Dali Theatre-Museum in Figueres instead. 

If you’re a fan of his work, this is like surrealist heaven. Dali was fully involved in the design of the entire museum for decades. His crypt is even here. We really enjoyed it. In most museums, people often have looks of concentration, deep thought, or appreciation. Here, many wandered with smiles lighting up their faces. I believe Dali would be delighted with that legacy.

Girona

This area checks so many boxes: prehistoric archeological sites, roman architecture, Arab Baths and an old town with defensive walls you can actually walk on. We were lucky to arrive on the day before their annual festival of flowers. The city was literally being festooned with blossoms and artistic displays. We often happened onto workers installing sculptures and a wide variety of potted grasses, loose greenery and flowers all throughout the city. 

Our Lonely Planet guide walk took us to many points of interest that, unfortunately, were closed - probably for preparation. We had a wonderful lunch in the old town and when the rain really started in earnest, we popped into the Museu d’Archeologia de Catalunya which is housed in the Monestir de Sant Pere de Galligants which we can’t recommend because of the lack of English descriptions and non-working apps.

The following day we were excited to go to the Parc Neolithic de la Draga which was one of the many prehistoric sites we’d learned about at the museum and very close near our campground but it was also closed so we just took a photo through the fence.

Next: Heading west.

2024 Trip Through France - Part 1

Dermot in Lille

London, Bristol, Cheddar, Folkestone, U.K.

I’m excited to be sharing this trip with the people who’ve said they enjoy reading the blog. There are about six of you. Since we were going to be visiting towns and cities that don’t appear in Rick Steve’s guide books, we added two ebooks as references:  Fodor’s France and Taking the Slow Road: France. The later is written by a man who tours in a campervan and includes campground recommendations - though usually of Aires which we’ve never braved so far.   This trip started like the others - realizing what we forgot to do or pack and vanlife maintenance. We spent a night in Bristol then a few days in Cheddar washing bedding, shopping for supplies, unpacking and even taking our folding bikes in for maintenance. Flying down a steep hill is a terrifying time to wonder if your brakes need replacing. We booked passage from Dover to Calais on a ferry before leaving Cheddar, which is an act of faith considering how many times an engine light’s appearance has altered our plans. Satisfied with our preparations, we headed for Folkestone.

Photo Album Here

Not a fan.

I anticipated challenges adhering to a vegan diet but one vegan meal called “Five Bean Chili” may have single-handedly undone me. Yes, it looks like a burger on a bun. But the waiter in the English pub assured me it was chili, breaded and fried and put on a bun. I thought he was joking. Inside was a mush nobody would mistake for chili.

Lille

The ferry trip was smooth and we drove straight towards Camping du Grand Sart. It’s 15 kilometers from Lille so the journey into the city is considerable. Camping here requires you to remember to bring your own toilet paper and the facilities aren’t great. On the other hand, the place is lovingly tended by a talented gardener so the sights and aromas of blooming shrubs and flowers is memorable. They also have chickens and two goats who spend their days head butting each other from the top of their very own castle. 

Their neighbors have a landscaping business which, I suppose, explains the Hobbit House.

We got a taste of the famously changeable weather of northern France on Monday. The forecast was threatening strong winds and rain so we looked for a way into town that avoided biking and excessive walking. After a few false starts we parked at the Fretin train station and arrived in Lille just in time to watch the driving rain drench pedestrians despite their raincoats and wreck their umbrellas even as they used them as shields. We chose to get a cappuccino to wait out the worst of it. 

Afterwards, we stopped at the TI and walked the tourist route in the old part of Lille seeing the outside of the Opera de Lille (they don’t give tours of the inside), La Vieille Bourse, Chambre of Commerce. For much of this time the sun was shining and the strong winds had chased the clouds away leaving only wispy traces behind. Dermot and I both love the old parts of towns and cities - the oddly shaped houses; the wood beams that aren’t true or level; they just add to the charm. We often wonder at some architectural choice that was made through the centuries to add a strange appendage or enclose what we think would have been a beautiful window or entryway. Of course, we don’t have to live there. I’m fascinated by the old fittings, hinges, latches and locks on doors and windows and how odd bits were put to use in surprising ways. 

Tiny “wicket” door in a door.

These revelations keep us coming back to Europe year after year. We always say we’re about over the cathedrals but we can’t seem to stay away. The Cathêdrale Notre-Dame de la Treille is an interesting combination of the original 13th century architecture and modern elements. Stained glass and new sculptures share space harmoniously. A new section includes thin marble that looks white from the outside but when viewed from the inside is warmly translucent with natural color variations from light to deep browns. 

 

We saw the outside of the Musée de l’Hospice Comtesse and strolled to the Porte de Gand which was one of the original entrances to the town.  With more rain threatening, we found a small grocery store and got dinner supplies and Dermot happily snapped up a hot baguette fresh from the oven. As our train pulled out of the station, it was pouring rain again.

Spring in France sounds fantastic and the flowers are beautiful. But more than once this first week we’ve questioned why we chose to leave the best Florida weather to travel in Europe’s cold and rainy shoulder season. Time will tell. 

Reims and the Champagne Region

On our way from Lille towards Reims, we were traveling near what was the Western front of WWI. The whole area is peppered with memorials and graveyards honoring those who fought and died here. We visited the Canadian National Monument. Though the massive gleaming white monument is undoubtedly a highlight, there’s also a good visitor’s center with poignant personalized stories and artifacts; tunnels and restored trenches; a section of No Man’s Land; and craters and undulating ground created by heavy artillery fire and underground mine explosions. Grass has grown back but much of the 250 acre area is off limits to visitors due to rough terrain and unexploded munitions. It’s too dangerous to mow so sheep graze the site to keep the grass trimmed. Witnessing it is both chilling and leaves you wondering how anyone made it out alive. The French gave the land to Canada in perpituity out of gratitude for their help and sacrifice. 

The nearby Notre Dame de Lorette is a WWI cemetery, church and a ring memorial where the names of all those who fought and died in the Pas de Calais and Calais Nord are carved into the walls. High school age children were visiting with lists of names they searched for.   

As Americans, we aren’t confronted by these daily reminders of war so close to home. These sites both underscore the horrendous tragedy and heavy toll of war.  

From there we headed for Camping Au Bord de l’Aisne where we managed to get stuck in the mud. The camp host had told me to stay on the road but I assumed he meant while driving to the site since camping on the road would block our neighbors. Our campground neighbors all came out offering traction pads and a push but we only managed to dig in deeper. “Welcome to France” one woman said with arms swung wide and a cheerful laugh. We had to be towed out by the camp hosts who reiterated to stay on the paved road - embarassing. 

The campground had pros - fresh pain au chocolate in the morning; and cons - super muddy when we had to stay in the lower grounds where it had flooded and unheated sanitary block. From here we visited Reims and enjoyed poking around a large grocery/sundries store then caught the tram into the city. We visited the cathedral which was where the coronations of most French kings were held. It was huge and somewhat gloomy except where it was illuminated by stained glass windows designed by Marc Chagall. 

Other stained glass illustrated the importance of champagne making to the region. We were disappointed the Gallo-Roman Cryptoporticus (1st & 2nd centuries and probably a covered market) wasn’t open yet but enjoyed the nearby Roman era and medieval structures and gardens. That door was to an abbey and included a tiny door called a “wicket door” photo above. There were also half-timbered houses.

We then set off for the picturesque medieval hilltop city of Laon. 

Chenizelles Gate of Laon

Notre-dame Cathedral is a masterpiece of early Gothic architecture as it featured a center tower that allowed light to flood in and inspired many other cathedrals. I loved the face and symbolic carvings on the medieval baptismal font. 

We lunched at a Crêperie (mine was white asparagus, ham, Emmental cheese and cream) and got a liter of the local cider on tap. The town is encircled by ramparts that were fun to explore and take in the views.

England to Belgium

 

Panorama in Ghent

Imagine leaving your tiny house for nearly a year in cold, rainy England with no heating. The unglamorous side of vanlife travel is that we spent several jetlagged days washing bedding, cleaning, shopping and repositioning stuff. Meals were functional and fit in whenever possible. We needed to wait until we got to the continent before recharging our phone sims so communication was intermittent and searches often failed. We spent one day each in rainy weather in Bristol, Cheddar, and Folkestone before driving onto the ferry for France. 

Arriving in Calais, we headed straight for the tiny town of Henù, France where Dermot’s grand uncle was buried. I was struck by how beautifully tended this grave was in the small cemetery after over 100 years. Birds were singing and the spring flowers were in full bloom.

Our photos here, click “i” for info.

 

The following is written by Dermot:

“After several failed attempts on other trips we finally were able to visit my grand uncle's grave at the Cimetiere Militaire De Hénu in France. He was Lt. James White and served in the Royal Army Vet Corps during WW1. He died on March 16th, 1916 in France, age 32. He was the son of Thomas and Anne White of Tulla, Co. Clare. I don't know when his grave was last visited by a family member, but I'm glad to have finally visited. 

Ironically, another of my grand uncles, Con Colbert, was executed in Kilminham Goal on May 8th for his part in the 1916 Easter Rising. He was a Captain in F Company fourth batallian. Colbert rail station, Limerick and Con Colbert road, Dublin were named in his honor. Some Tulla people will remember his brother Dan Colbert. Dan and his wife Nancy lived in the corner house on Main St and the road up to the graveyard. 

This is not an unusual Irish family story of one family member serving in the British Army in WW1 and another serving in the Irish Volunteers/Irish Republican Brotherhood for Irish independence from Britain.”

It had been a long day of travel and spent that night far outside of Lille, France, but the campsite was marginal and Rick Steves had no recommendations for what to see there so we headed for Belgium. Having already visited Bruges and Antwerp on our last trip, we opted for Ghent. 

We arrived at "Urban Gardens Camping" and were offered either a muddy hardstanding site with a big "pond" in the middle we'd have to find our way around; or soggy, muddy campsites that came with the warning that if we got stuck, they couldn't pull us out. We choose the one that wouldn't require a tow truck.

Ghent is less touristy than Bruges so we enjoyed the less crowded streets. We visited St. Bavo's Cathedral then half-wandered, half-followed Rick Steves walk. There were pretty canals and the distinctive Belgium architecture that invited us to explore even in the rain. The following day brought more rain and more mud so we did another load of laundry then set out for the second part of RS’s walk. The quiet streets were a joy except when we forgot our place and wandered into the bike paths!

England in 2022

When Covid and I were done with each other, I flew to London. The passing of a family member drew friends and relations from Ireland and England to mourn and celebrate the life of a promising young man. Much of our time was spent chatting over food and drink. We took the underground into London hoping to catch a play last minute but settled for a romp around Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. I finally had a proper Yorkshire pudding and they are delicious when done right!

We were happily reunited with our campervan in Bristol and planned to spend one night there cleaning, unpacking and reaquainting ourselves with the systems and determining what had survived for two years being closed up and subjected to British weather. Most items were as you might expect. Our campsite was near Cheddar bordering a field filled with sheep. We heard them as well as smelled them - an aroma I described as "gross" and Dermot declared to be "fresh." Now I know what "farm fresh" really means. The busy day was topped off with dinner at the campground's restaurant as we were too late and too beat to make what we'd bought.  The thin comforter was just enough to stave off the chill of the spring night.

Oops!

We tackled adding water to the tank the following morning without reading the manual which turned into a comedy of errors culminating with water running from under the bathroom into the kitchen. We feared the worst - broken lines. We booked another night at the same camp and called the company that cares for the van in our absence. It being Sunday, getting service would be delayed at least a day. A bit of troubleshooting revealed our problem was self-inflicted and didn't recur when all valves were set correctly. So we did laundry and relaxed before cooking our first van-made dinner of the trip. 

Here's an album of our photos.

We dined al fresco with a bottle of wine we had bought in Spain in 2019 and somehow aged very nicely in the van being subjected to whatever highs and lows Britain could dish out. 

With our fingers and toes crossed, we set our sights on a ferry crossing to France. The narrow roads in Cheddar with their incredibly charming stone houses and their picturesque flower-covered stone walls are lovely to see but caused anxiety as we tried to avoid collisions with bigger vehicles. On arrival in Folkestone, we immediately booked a ferry and campsite for the next day.

Next stop: Bruges, Belgium