Day Twenty Two

France: Nages to
France: Avignon

Saturday 26th July

Back again with more goings on in “big brother’s little brother camp”.

We came up with that one en route, its very descriptive don’t you think? And talking of enroute, the Dutch couple and their deranged children drove us away. I have never known a child that spends every waking hour squawking, but this one sure as hell did. It was an overcast morning with rain in the air and clearly a day at the lake, was a no go. So we avoided a massacre of Dutch children packing up Priscilla to take to the open road again.

Ian was clearly relieved. Whilst set in a beautiful location overall the campsite was a huge disappointment. Part of the same Hutopian chain that J and I had visited near Versailles, I had lots of expectations, but it was a totally different set up, a shop with nothing in it, a bar/ restaurant with no menu (Ian worked out they may be selling pizza having read the chef’s menu’s pinned to the wall as he peered through a kitchen window). Even the tiny pool was over run with toddlers, everybody seemed miserable and everything was badly organised. Shame as the location was great but in need of some serious trouble shooting. Hey maybe there’s a new career in that for me, yes I can see myself touring Europe, mystery shopping campsites, that would be right up my street!

Our next destination was Eastward, I had identified a campsite right on the edge of Avignon and was craving culture and no screaming children. We motored on down through the hills on the twisty turney roads via some stunning scenery, Ian doing his best as he held on tightly to Priscilla’s grab handles. Bless him, my brothers not quite the mountain goat that I am and would rather avoid a twisty turney road. He took the executive decision to check Maureen’s route, not happy with what he found he routed us around a mountain via the N roads. All part of the journey together, I was just happy driving. As you’ve probably guessed by now I love to drive and this kind of scenic driving makes for such a change from the M25. The M25 commuting having been a bigger part of my life than Johnathon, these last 2 years.

As we journeyed we certainly had some fun tricking Maureen, she did eventually give in and followed the N roads but not before countless “recalculating”. We passed more stunning scenery as motored of particular note was a lake set in a landscape akin to life on Mars, all blood red rock and soil, very unusual.

It wasn’t long before we had arrived in Avignon. We had picked a campsite just on the edge of the river, allowing us to walk in and discover the walled city, a sort of cultural pit stop on the way to the Cote D’Azur. Unfortunately, the campsite was a complete shit hole. I’m sorry, I can’t put it any other way. The first pitch we were allocated had no shade and with the sun beating down and no electricity evident, I went marching off back to the camp reception ready for a fight. Without too much fuss we were allocated another spot with shade and electricity but already I wasn’t comfortable.

Next stop was to check out the toilet and shower facilities. Up until now I’d been staying in 3&4 star campsite and perhaps been somewhat spoilt. I had come to expect a modern clean power shower and cleanliness next to godliness. I certainly wasn’t prepared for the 2 star urban campsite experience that was ahead of us. Having pitched we went to check out the shower blocks. I was never to recover. I’m not going to go into details, you may well be eating. Lets just say it was an experience I would not want to repeat any time soon. Putting a brave face on it we both calmed each other, re-iterating it’s the location we are here for, as we strolled our way over the Rhone and into the walled city of Avignon.

What I hadn’t told Ian, as we sauntered on, was that I was expecting Avignon to be in full festival swing, having read that the Avignon Festival was running during our visit. Expecting a full on Edinburgh fridge festival experience, minus the rain, I was not to be disappointed. Avignon had indeed been totally taken over by the bohemians. It was like waltzing our way through a scene in Monmatre, Moulin Rouge. All that was missing was the Absinth (but that’s very fortunate as that stuff makes me see fairies and I can assure you it wasn’t Johnathon or even Kylie!)

The Avignon festival, for the uninitiated, centres around theatre and drama with every conceivable space being commandeered as a performance space, from staff canteens to churches and public parks. Avignon was alive with all manner of theatrical types in full costume and make up, performing there way through the streets.

For a while we sat in the main square sipping pastis (next to a French equivalent of the golden girls, out to watch the spectacle) we goggled in amazement at the free show in front of our eyes. All manner of performance artists were parading their way through the city, all singing, all dancing advertisements for their very own shows. All the artists were in full costume and make up, we saw everything from a performing zoo troupe (complete with dancing zebras, giraffes and lions) to jazz players, fire eaters and Spanish dancers. It was mad. I could write an essay about all that we saw that day (and I almost have), it was definitely the day Avignon went mad.

To give you a flavour we scattered ourselves amongst the party atmosphere, taking in sight seeing, shopping, a meal, beer, wine, barcardi, rum and ice cream. I remember wandering the streets, as pissed as newts, around 2am in the morning, as a French bohemian type told us to relax and love the world. Ian and myself, alcohol charged, must have been in full on debate mode (I think that one was gay marriage) we were having a whale of a time putting the worlds to rights (but clearly the bohemian type thought we were having a full on argument, us both being opinionated types!).

We finally called it a night, some point before sun rise, crawling our way back through the streets to Priscilla, leaving the party behind us, our heads hitting our pillows, as we dreamed of life as bohemians.

Day Twenty one

France: Nages

Friday 25th July

Awoke in the early hours with a red wine head, but with more sleep and I was up and out in the camp shop buying bread and pain au chocolate by 8:30 (maybe I’m never going to have a beach bums alcohol tollerance!)

We both had a lazy day. The kind of battery recharge day you might have on a Sunday if you one was working, but I’m not! Ok so all the days are blurring into one I know, but I’m liking it that way. After 14 years of working non stop I’m having a ball not having my life driven by deadlines.

So I’ve spent much of my day with the blog. Talking of the blog its terribly time consuming, but I’m having great fun writing it. I hope those of you keeping tracks of my travels aren’t bored out of your minds. And talking of boring there hasn’t been much to blog about today. I’ve spent much of the day sat under the trees, laptop in lap. Its been tranquil with the birds singing and the sun filtering through the trees.

Well it was until the Dutch brats arrived on the lovely empty pitch to the side of us. I should have known from the moment they arrived they would be trouble. I mean why at the start of a holiday would the young boy be crying as he’s extracted from the car by his dad? I think dad might consider investing in an ejector seat, that’ll shut the kid up.

Anyway going back to the broken piece and tranquillity as the children played, or was that screamed, it all became a blur, Ian hinted that we might indeed only be staying 2 nights! Ok I know I’m sounding like Victor Meldrew but really why can’t children play quietly whilst their parents set up camp? Do they not know my thoughts are easily interfered with? The mums miserable as well, I want to give her a slap and say hey your Dutch and Dutch people are always happy and your holidays chill!

Ok I’m being way too nice, do those children not know that screeching whilst playing annoys the hell out of me (and Johnathon wonders why children don’t interest me!). Its blown all my mis conceptions I had about how Dutch parents and how well they manage their children. These ones clearly didn’t attend the same parenting classes that the rest of Dutch Society seems to have.

Ok so bar humbug over I did manage to pull my self away from the blog to round the day off with wine, food and beer. The Dutch brats never really did shut up except for an hour around feeding time at the zoo, so we drowned them out with some music whilst attempting to re-create the goats cheese salad we had had in Spain ala Ian and Ray minus the eye candy (lets just say we desperately need Johnathon’s culinary expertise).

Day Twenty

Spain: Sitges to
France: Nages

Thursday 24th July

I woke early eager to move onto the next destination, France. Ian had a hang over from the excesses of the previous night, the bottle of wine we downed back at out campsite not helping matters, but for once I was fine I think I’m acclimatising to the beach bum lifestyle and so packed up Priscilla and we were soon the road again.

As we headed over the border into France we both cheered. We’ve been brought up on family summer holidays in France and both have an addiction to the food, the landscapes and the people. I’d planned our route with a pit stop at the Carrefor hypermarket in Narbonne. Ian was looking forward to the gastronomic experience that is a French hypermarket and he was suitably rewarded, wandering round like a little boy in a toy shop, he had a permanent grin on his face as he picked up all his old favourites. I picked up a bargain cool box to replace the one that had given up on me last week as well as a snorkelling kit (not sure why but hey it was a beach bum thing to do!) and proceeded to pull some food together for the next few days.

We snacked on bread and cheese in the car park before continuing our journey into the Languedoc-Rousillon region. I’d read a review of a campsite, again in the cool camping France guide, that had sparked my imagination, being set amongst rolling pine forests on the edge of a lake.

The journey deep into the forests was great and again I was in tree hugger paradise. We had a challenging hunt for the campsite, not being able to pin Maureen down to get the exact address. We arrived at Indigo Rieumontagne to a some what disorganised reception, not the most welcoming of experiences and problems ensued having chosen our pitch as the pitch next door had hooked their electricity point into ours. But eventually reception sorted things out and we relaxed with a beer on our large and leafy pitch.

As we poured wine and lit the BBQ we heard the distant boom of thunder rolling around the hills, Ian looked at me ominously, suggesting we might need a rain plan. But we had soon re-arranged things to be high and dry.

As our BBQ progressed the thunder got louder and the lightening stronger and it wasn’t long before spots of rain were tapping on Priscilla’s tunnel tent. Safe inside we carried on drinking and eating in comfort as the orchestra of the storm boomed away in the background, it certainly made for a dramatic evening. It turned out to be more of an electrical storm than a rain storm and it passed over without incident as we engaged in meaningful conversations late into the night.

Day nineteen

Spain: Sitges

Wednesday 23rd July 2008

Awoken by the heat of the sun beating down on Priscilla I had coffee and breakfast using the boot of Priscilla as a make shift sun canopy and spent much of the morning reading and planning a possible itinerary for the next week.

We then set out into the centre of Sitges for lunch. As we exited the campsite a bus pulled up, Ian looked at me and said should we? But I was already running to stop it. Result, it was indeed heading into the centre of Sitges and saved us the hike in the midday sun. We were swiftly dropped off in the centre and wandered down to the beach, window shopping as we went, before reaching the sea front and heading for a beach side restaurant we had spied the previous day.

We lunched overlooking the beach on a fabulous goat’s cheese salad, sharing a massive cuttlefish and prawn rice dish, the type with the black squid dye in it. It was an unusual choice for me as I’m not a great seafood eater but Ian really wanted to try and I was up for a new experience!

As we slugged a perfectly chilled white, we both checked out the eye candy on the beach. Speedo style trunks are definitely back in fashion, gay men always being early adopters, and black swimwear was definitely on the way out. We spent a blissful 2 hours lunching and were suitably inebriated having renewed confidence to whip off our shorts and strut our stuff on the beach, in black trunks (no the gay fashion police didn’t execute us), breathing in to hide our tummies!

The sea was great and we relaxed on the beach watching the world go by but come 6pm I was bored of holding my stomach in and recognised I’m not very good with all that sand and salt water. We headed off to the catwalk again for sundowners and shopping. We had both decided we needed new swimwear and spent a good amount of time trawling the shops trying to find those elusive speedo’s. Disappointed at our lack of success, we headed back to Parrots bar for more bears and people watching, rounding the evening off with a final cocktail. We congratulated ourselves on re-conquering Sitges, we felt as suntanned and beautiful as the next boy (alcohol is wonderful for giving you a sense of delusion!).

Day Eighteen

Spain: Casa Beaumont, Arboleas
Spain: Sitges

Tuesday 22nd July

I awoke in the early hours with a rotten migraine, clearly too much wine the previous night had taken its toll, I popped a migraine pill (otherwise know as my bombs) and slept some more before a sudden awaking as my alarm buzzed in my ear. Today my brother Ian, Priscilla and myself were making an early start in search of new adventures.

Our first stop was Almeria, further south than my parents Villa, Ian trailed Priscilla south in his hire car which we needed to be return to Almeria airport before motoring north together.

We made good progress en route, catching up on each others lives, intermingling conversation with the destinations we might visit. Ian was keen to hit France as soon as possible, having not been back for 5 years. We stopped for lunch on the motorway services, discussing where we might reach on our first days travelling. It became clear that we would struggle to make it into France before the early evening, Ian suggesting that we might try an over night stop in Sitges.

Seeing the time and feeling travel weary it was a plan I was happy to entertain. We had both independently visited Sitges several times over the years and both had mixed emotions about the resort. But, it was a perfect stopping point and we both knew of a campsite in close proximity to the centre, a plan was hatched.

Ian drove the remainder of the motorway journey. It was strange being a passenger, with Johnathon not driving; I’m not used to life as a passenger. It took me ages to sit back, relax and let Ian take the controls. However, he was soon overcoming Priscilla’s foibles and we motored on at speed north, arriving in Sitges in the early afternoon.

Our arrival in Sitges was somewhat disappointing. We searched around for Camping El Roca but a noticeable lack of sign posting made us suspicious. Our fears where confirmed as we pulled up in dismay as the site of the once camping El Roca was now half a building site, half a dilapidated dereliction site. It was sad to see a half knocked down campsite we both knew so well. Undeterred, we had rapidly made new plans and headed out to a campsite on other side of the resort.

Camping El Gafor was very full and we struggled to find a camping spot we liked, finally deciding on a pitch in a newly developed field at the back of the campsite with little in the way of shade. But not long later we were pitched, with a beer in hand planning what to do for the evening.

With little in the way of food we decided on a trip into the heart of Sitges to eat. Walking on down to the sea front we discovered a new and really nice looking campsite (camping Sitges) clearly a replacement for Camping El Roca. I made a mental note for any future visits to this part of Spain. We slowly ambled our way along the beach promenade arriving in central Sitges hungry and for ready for another drink.

We picked Parrots bar, which has outdoor tables on what Ian and I call the cat walk. So known as its where all the holiday makers stroll up and down of an evening, literally as if it where a cat walk. Its jam packed with patio bars, clubs and shops and restaurant. So we joined in the parade treating ourselves to cocktails at Parrots, soaking up the atmosphere and feeling terribly glamorous.

After cocktails we moved on further down the catwalk to a pizza restaurant, knocking back some table wine before ambling back home along the sea front, watching the palm trees sway and listening to the waves as they gently rolled onto the beach.

We both concluded that Sitges does have a certain special charm, despite its pretensions and pre-Madonna’s.

Day Seventeen

Spain: Casa Beaumont, Arboleas

Monday 21st July

I awoke today and carried on with the preperations for the next stage of the journey, a fews days pit stop at my Parents and some creature comforts being enough to re-charge my batteries and get Prsicalla ready for the open road again.

Farther needed a lift back from the local town where his car was being serviced and the rest of the day was spent in and out of the pool, reading and writing, before a final nights Family meal.

I’d brought a duck cassolet and charontelle melon from France and the Pastis from Andora. All of which brought back many memories of family holidays, camping together in France. Again the wine and food flowed as we exchanged memories, chatted and sang.

Day Sixteen

in the big brother house.........

Ok well not quite but day 16 in little ol Priscilla.......!

Sunday 20th July

Spain: Casa Beaumont, Arboleas

I awoke before sunrise, after a stiflingly hot night in my parent’s villa. The worry of my lost passport was buzzing around in my head and I decided that I needed to strip Priscilla out before making plans to visit an embassy. I started by giving Priscilla a wash, much to her relief, unpacking 2 weeks of washing ready to load into my mother’s washing machine.

The last thing to come out of Priscilla was her rug and bingo! There lay my passport beaming away at me on the floor. I leapt for joy, dancing round my parent’s pool to repeated woops of “I got my passport”. I thought this might have woken the family up, but the previous nights drinking and catch up had gone on late into the early hours and not a murmur was to be heard from within the villa.

The remainder of the day was filled with chores, washing and blogging, punctuated with frequent dips in the pool to keep cool. Its unbearably hot in Andalusia at this time of year and lethargy soon sets in. Splashing around in the pool however, is a great antidote and lots of fun. My brother bombing me with water, footballs and the like as my mother screeched “watch my toe” (an unfortunate encounter with a board walk on the beach a few days previously to blame for a broken toe).

As the day’s heat began to fall back, we rounded together for a family BBQ, always an event in itself. Mum and Dad clearly enjoying having all the family together for the first time in a couple of years. We cracked open wine, feasting late into the night, as the conversations and alcohol flowed.

Day Fifteen

Saturday 19th July

Spain: Playa D’aro to
Spain: Arboleas

My blog writing has continued apace but access to the internet in Spain was poor with no 3G so I’m still behind!

Saturday morning and the heat drove us out of Priscilla early. Johnny cooked up some lunch whilst I packed up Priscilla. We had to leave the campsite by midday but Johnathon’s flight wasn’t until 5pm so we had some time to kill and decided to hit the beach one final time together.

We took Priscilla up to the car park outside of the campsite and dropped into reception to pay. It was packed full of people with a long wait to pay. As Johnathon queued up a new drama unfolded in front of me, I couldn’t find my passport!

I looked everywhere but to no avail. We asked at the reception, but they knew nothing. My last memory of the passport was showing it as we checked into the campsite. I was convinced the reception had kept it and that by now it had made its way onto the black market. Its sentimental I know, but my passport is such a personal thing, its got stamps in from many of the countries I’ve visited over the last 9.5 years, its my own little piece of history and I felt much sadness at its loss. I gave the campsite reception a hard time but it was useless. I’d searched all the obvious places in Priscilla and after an hour of stressing I gave up, resigning myself to the possibility of a trip to an English embassy and the necessary faffing around and delays that this would entail. It was Sunday and nothing more I could do about it so we headed off to the beach as planned.

The waves were crashing onto the beach as a sea breeze blew in. It made for great fun as the waves threw us around, so much so that one of the breaks threw me underwater, ripping off my sunglasses, lost to the undercurrent. That will teach me to ponce around in the sea with my sunnies on!

We tucked into Johnathon’s lunch on the beach as the sun beat down. It was fun watching everyone being happily tossed about by the waves but too soon it was time for a shower and the short trip to the airport. It was a sad journey, knowing that we wouldn’t be seeing each other for a couple of weeks, we were both very solemn. I dropped J outside the terminal doors, we said our goodbyes, I couldn’t look back at him as he disappeared into the airport terminal; I was battling back my tears and had to pull myself together for the long journey to Andalusia ahead of me.

As I travelled the 850KM down coast to Andalusia I felt an intense sense of loss and sadness, leaving my best friend, partner and lover behind, a significant part of me was lost. I tried lifting my spirits by blasting repeated airing of my theme tune for the adventure; the sound track to The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Dessert. With speakers pounding, I sang myself silly as Priscilla rode the kilometres with impressive speed, as if somehow propelled by the soundtrack. We had weeks of adventures ahead of us and my sadness at loosing my travelling companion was slowly being replaced with a giddy sense of nervous anticipation.

Stopping only for fuel and the bathroom I made the journey in less than 7 hours. The roads being free flowing, I pulled into my parent’s villa moments before 11pm to looks of complete amazement, my family not expecting me to until the early hours of the next day.

Day Fourteen

Andorra:Pal to
Spain: Playa Diaro

Friday 18th July

We awoke early and were soon packed and on the open road again ambling through the beautiful mountain scenery on route to Spain. As we hit the Spanish border all the cars were being stopped and asked to open their car boots. It suddenly occurred to me that there might be a duty free limit and I needed to think on my feet. We had 4 litres of spirits and a couple of our cases of wine remaining from Calais. I had no idea how I was going to explain away with this one. But a moment of inspiration flashed before my eyes and instead of opening the boot to Priscilla (where the cases of booze were stashed) I opened up her side sliding door revealing our bikes, camping gear, cool boxes and other paraphernalia.

The border guard asked me in Spanish if I had any liquor but instead of answering I did a classic Brit abroad routine and started speaking to him in English telling him I didn’t understand and that we were just travelling through Europe etc. Baffled by the amount of stuff packed into Priscilla and a lack of English he walked away waving me on. I slammed Priscilla’s doors shut and we hurtled off into Spain before anyone could change their mind!

The journey through Catalonia was lovely as we commented that we should visit the area on a future holiday. With the valleys opening up in front of us we left the Pyrenees and Andorra behind motoring on to the coast. We’d decided as it was Johnathon’s last full day that some sun, sea and sand ;-) would be an lovely way to end 2 weeks. I’d sourced a campsite right on the beach north of Playa D’aro in a area called Calogne on the Costa Brava not far from Girona airport. We arrived in baking hot weather managing to bag a pitch right on the edge of the beach with lovely sea views.

The campsite was set in a secluded little cove and we spent the afternoon on the beach splashing around in the sea and dying out in sun. Johnathon had planned a bottle of cava on the beach which we had bought duty free in Andorra, but he was most disappointed when on opening we discovered it was corked. I couldn’t let his last full day end like this (the Cava just wasn’t drinkable) so I managed to blag a chilled bottle from the campsite bar (they were obviously not used to people asking for a whole bottle!) and soon Johnathon had a smile on his face again.

We rounded our last night off together with a restaurant meal, typical Spanish fare but very tasty and the views of the cove and beach made for a very romantic final evening together as we reflected on the adventures we had shared.

Day Thirteen

Thursday 17th July

Andorra: Pal

We awoke to cloudy skies today  but they were looking very wispy and dramatic as they shrouded the tops of the mountains. We’d decided to head on out in Priscilla for a walk in the lakes. The previous day I had asked the campsite owner, a husky Spanish matriarch with a permanent cigarette in her hand, to recommend me a walk. She stopped in a moment of contemplation, wiping out a map to show me how to visit the mountain lakes, her serious demeanour breaking as she spoke fondly of how beautiful the lakes are.

The drive took us through more stunning mountain scenery, passing streams that poured off the mountains, splashing onto the roads as they journeyed to the sea. We climbed higher into the mountains, as an eyrie stillness settled over the landscape. We passed closed ski resorts imaging the buzz that would bring the ski resort to life in the winter months. Pricilla hurled us on up the mountain tracks no problem, her turbo charger purring as we finally reached the end of the paved road in Vallnord sector Arcalis. Johnathon wanted us to bound on up the shale track in Priscilla, but still wary of our last mountain track experience, I refrained.

Full of anticipation Johnathon through open Priscilla’s door, only to be hit by a wall of cold air and a gasp of surprise, 1,900 meter’s above sea level, we clearly needed every bit of warm clothing we could muster.

Suitably geared up, we headed to the ski lift, a total lack of people and tourist information left us in a quandary but the only working ski lift, whisking empty chairs off into the clouds, was too tempting an adventure not explore. So I attempted my broken Spanish with the ski lift ticket lady, asking her if it was possible to take the ski lift to the lakes and walk back down. She indicated we could and the walk back was 45 minutes, so with some in trepidation we bought single tickets and were soon floating up the mountain into the clouds.

The ski lift experience was surreal, in virtual silence and visibility down to one ski chair we where whisked up the mountain, through the clouds. We reached the top with no idea of what to do or where to go and no return ticket! There were no marked walking tracks and visibility was terrible, I had visions of being trapped on the mountain. Undeterred we followed something that resembled a path twisting up through the crags to what felt like the top of the mountain. We stopped for a photo of the two of us in the clouds, resting the camera on a granite extrusion, when a sudden change in the weather saw the clouds parting in front of our eyes revealing an incredible lunar like landscape. The view, punctuated with the beautiful cobalt blue of lakes was simply awesome.

It wasn’t long before the visibility closed in on us again, the clouds shrouding the sun as the temperatures dropped back. We had decided that a walk down the mountain was a possible death ticket and so confidently jumped back on the ski lift flashing our single tickets at the ski lift man who, in true Spanish style, took absolutely no notice allowing us to glide off back down the mountain with a sigh of relief.

As we heading back down the mountain in Priscilla, a herd of mountain horses stopped our path, a superb photo opportunity. We stopped via a stunning waterfall and a duty free shop (Andorra is full of them) to stock up on Liquor for my Father and provisions for us. I was stunned at being able to pick up a litre bottle of Pastis for 2 euros! We rounded the day off with drinks and a meal, as was becoming common practise.

Day Twelve

Andorra: Pal

Wednesday 16th July



We awoke as the sun began to illuminate the valley, not a cloud in the sky, we headed out from our camp site for a hike. We had planned a route along a yellow marked path that originated over the river and up one side of the valley from our camp. We headed out and it wasn’t long before our hearts where pounding as the oxygen levels at one and a half thousand meters above see level thinned. We clambered up the steep gradient over a mixture of granite extrusions, deciduous trees and pine forest. Every now and again, through a clearing in the trees, we were treated to a peek of the valley and the other side of the mountain as we made are way onwards, and upwards. Our route was littered with wild orchids, 3 distinctive varieties, as well as many other alpine flora and fauna. We reached the top of the mountain to be stunned at the view that opened up, snow capped mountains framing a picture postcard vista.

As we made our way back down the other side of the mountain it became clear that we may be able to turn the route into a circular hike. We trekked on down the other side of the hill like mountain goats, expecting to bump into Heidi and Peter!

Those dreams were soon to be shattered as two mountain bikes came hurtling down the mountain at us. It was a lucky escape as we jumped aside. We had figured we might be on a mountain bike route the tracks on the floor a give away sign, but it wasn’t obvious that the marked path had become a shared mountain bike route. In a smattering of seconds, with flint stones flying into the air, the bikes disappeared on down the mountain leaving us with an uneasy feeling as we trekked on down the remainder of the mountain, constantly looking behind us, wary of further encounters with high speed mountain bikers.

Our hike continued on in safety, fortunately not a busy mountain bike route and we hiked on round the valley floors returning to our campsite, exhausted but exhilarated it has been a superb hike. We celebrated our ‘butch’ achievement with a late lunch, cracking open a bottle of sparkling Blanquette Limoux we had picked up in the Alet les Bain. As the sun shone we swam in the campsite swimming pool in the late afternoon sun. Definitely the most scenic swimming pool we had ever swum in. Again that evening we cooked and drank our way through another evening as we fell in love with the mountain landscape surrounding us.

Day Eleven

France: Carcassonne; Alet les Bain;
Andorra: Pal


Tuesday 15th July 2008


We awoke early, somewhat bleary eyed after a peaceful night ‘boon docking’ in Carcassonne and headed off to the hypermarket. Now for those fellow Francophiles you’ll know what I mean when I say we spent 2 hours wandering the isles of Geant, we left with our trolley loaded up with all sorts of gastronomical delights.

We headed back to our base in Alet les Bain via a Toyota dealership to enquire about a replacement wing mirror glass for Priscilla (to no avail) planning the next destination along the way.

We lunched in Alet les Bain packing up and heading off onto the open road again on route to the principality of Andorra, our next stop. The journey was an adventure in itself. Maureen (our renamed sat nav) decided to play a little trick on Priscilla and routed her up an unpaved single dirt track! Still listed as a D road, 5 minutes into the deepest countryside and I got cold turkey and decided that this donkey track couldn’t possibly take us over the looming mountain and somehow managed a turnaround in an open field. This really tested Priscilla’s resilience as she bumped her way along the dirt track, shredding my nerves but Priscilla took it all in her stride.

As we passed back through the hamlet on our return from the donkey track we understood why the old man brushing straw off the road had stared so strangely at us on our first pass through. We must have been the only foreigners he’d seen this decade! Having sorted out the squabbles between Maureen (our sat nav) and Priscilla (Maureen was subjected to her 1st verbal warning) we were back onto a D road (this time with tarmac) and proceed to wind our way through stunning countryside as we journeyed deeper up into the Pyrenees.

As we drove on the gradients where getting steeper and the views more and more dramatic, Pricilla bounded along as though she had been made for the Mountains and continued to be a real pleasure to drive. We stopped briefly to be amazed at a lengthy aerobatic display of an eagle swooping through the thermals above a grassy meadow at the side of the road.

Arriving at the border of France and Andorra, snow capped mountains above us we motored on cutting directly through the heart of the border mountains via a road tunnel. We had to stop as we exited the other side not only to look back on the stunning mountain view that we had tunneled through, but also to check that we hadn’t entered into Narnia!

Andorra definitely feels like another country, the architectural style of the buildings, and the price of diesel (only 1.1 euros V 1.4 in France) even the road signage being different.

We headed on through the valleys, Andorra’s development is narrow and ribbon like with every available bit of building space in the main valley being chopped into for real estate. A tax free haven, the volume of new construction was quite amazing. The local building materials being a combination of the local stones so lots of dark granites, it’s a little over bearing at first but as you head out of the main urban areas the vistas open up and we were treated to stunning mountain scenery.

We arrived at our final destination camping Xixerella in the Vallnord of Andorra. A lush green open plan site with free find pitches, loads of space, heated shower block and swimming pool. Surrounded by steep mountains, granite crags, pine forests and a bubbling crystal clear stream at the side of our pitch, we were in tree hugger paradise!

We were now becoming experts at pitching our mobile home, within an hour we had wine in hand and were relaxing discussing the merits of living in such a picturesque landscape. Again J rustled us up another splendid supper as the sun set behind the mountains; life doesn’t get much better than this.

Day Ten

France: Carcassonne

14th July 2008 – Bastille Day

A bank holiday in France and we where treated with a cloudless blue sky as left our drive away awning at the campsite in Alet le Bain and headed off for the day to discover the medieval city of Carcasonne. We where hoping to be able to watch the biggest firework display outside of Paris. On route we stopped for photos in fields of sunflowers and I sneakily borrowed one (well ok nicked one) and popped into a cut off evian bottle to brighten up Priscilla.

On arrival into Carcassonne we headed straight to the medieval walled city and managed to bag one of the last remaining camper spots on a grassy verge shaded by plain trees, right by the river Aude with a view of the medieval city. It was cool, loads of French camper cars all lined up creating a little village all of our own and our first ‘boondocking’ (for the uninitiated that’s Australian for camping for free!) experience.

We where next to a friendly half German half French couple with two young toddlers. Happy with the spot we where soon strolling off into the cobbled route to the picture perfect walled city, loads of photo op’s, it was going to be a snap happy day.

Carcassonne was looking stunning and and was much larger than I had imagined. We wandered around soaking up the festival atmosphere and getting our bearings stumbled on a cute little restaurant with a secret sunny garden for lunch. I had Foi gras, steak enfant and frites followed by chilled pineapple and mint soup and lemon sorbet, all washed down by a bottle of house wine from the restaurant owners own vineyard, very tasty.

All set for more sight seeing we entered the main inner gate building to commence our trip along the inner ramparts and through into the main chateau. As we qued for tickets everyone was handed Bastile day ribbons. We didn’t realise it but we where one of the last people allowed up onto the ramparts as they were to be closed to the public from 3pm to allow for the final preparations for the fireworks, to be launched from the outer ramparts.

A beautifully clear day the view of the new town of Carcassonne and the hills and mountains surrounding was stunning. You could see why it made a great garrison spot to keep the Catalunyans at bay. Security was very tight with people patrolling up and down the ramparts with walkie talkies looking terribly serious. As we looked down and through the walls we could see why, with massive vats of explosives just below us we could be seconds away from death!

The ramparts lead us through into the inner courtyard of the chateau and within the great hall we watched a multi media presentation giving us a flavour of the history of the city, its subsequent decline and more recent preservation, now a Unesco protected site. Next we visited the cathedral with its stunning stained glass windows and our feet were tiring so we descended back down the hill back to Pricilla for a power nap.

As the evening drew on people were already beginning to take spots for the evenings fireworks on the road by the river, so we freshened up, packed some bottles of wine and sandwiches and headed out. The medieval pedestrian bridge linking old Carcassonne with new Carcassonne has been closed, and the new road bridge had een closed to traffic which by the time we arrived at around 19:45 was already packed with people, sat down waiting for the fireworks.

With insider knowledge courtesy of the tourist info office we headed through the throngs of people down on to the east bank of the river to a grassy verge (again absolutely packed with people) and threw our rug down and cracked open some wine and waited for the night to close in and the fireworks to commence.

There was such a great party atmosphere on the river bank, with some French chaps teaching children at the side of us how to juggle and people cheering as brave souls waded through the river to a grassy island for a prime view of the imminent fireworks. With our mp3 players treating us to our favourite sounds and the wine flowing, Johnathon was soon catching everyone’s attention as he did a crazy sit down dance thing to his music! Intrigued by what was making Johnathon move we got chatting to a French trio behind us. Caroline and Antionne, the more confident of the 3, seemed some what disappointed to find out it was Madonna! Never the less we had a fun time finding out about each other in half French half English as the sun set. As we headed beyond 22:00 darkness had crept in and dramatically all the new towns street lighting was cut off and old city’s was lunged into darkness then blasted into illumination as the first barrage of fireworks exploded throough the air.

The waiting had been well worth it, we were treated to a 45 minute crescendo of fireworks, blasting their way above the walled city, a stunning back drop for a truly amazing firework display. We rounded the evening off, back at the side of Priscilla, throwing some sausages onto our gas bbq and knocking back some beers.

Day Nine

Havn't posted for a while, not had internet access. So will catch up over the next few days.



France: L’argentieire (L’ardeche) – Alet Les Bain (Pyrenees)

13th July

Is time to move on again. We’ll be sad to say goodbye to Domaine Les Ranchisses and L’argentieire, but we know we’ll be back soon. A messy start to the morning as the awning was dripping wet and the ground sodden from the previous day’s rain, but un deterred we packed up and were on our way by 9:30 as the sun shone again.

As we motored along en route to our next destination around 10am there was a massive whack as a white van that was hurtling along at a million miles an hour on the opposite side of the road smacked Priscilla’s passenger side mirror and catapulted in into the passenger window. The impact smashed the mirror glass but the passenger window remains in tact (thankfully). The white van didn’t stop but I pulled over to asses the damage. There was enough cracked mirror left to allow me to keep driving and fortunately the casing of the wing mirror has survived with a small scratch and all the electronic adjustments were all in working order, a lucky escape, but it shook us both up. I’ll need to hunt out a Toyota dealership to try and get a replacement or a temporary mirror glass of some sort, but it’s Sunday and there’s no hope of that today. Driving on the right hand side of the road in a right hand drive, I’m very reliant on it.

By 13:30 we had travelled the distance from the Ardeche valley up into the Pyrenees and our next stop Camping Val d’Aleth in the medieval village of Alet les Bains. It’s known for its mineral water and we’ve read a review about the campsite in the Cool Camping France guide book. A great book (highly recommend it to anyone travelling in France) and we’ve been suitably rewarded with a gem of a little campsite set on the side of the river L’Aude not far from Limoux and about 30 mins from Carcassonne.

We pitched and lunched in the sun with beers and cider. We spent the rest of the afternoon discovering the village on our bikes (yes we managed the odd straight line after the liquid lunch!). Some of the buildings had a feel of our own home town of Faversham, the medieval architecture being very dramatic, but with that certain distinctive French styling. It’s a sleepy little village but we had a good mooch around finding the source of the mineral water with its bottling plant and getting some info from the tourist office for the next days trip.

Rounding off the day J cooked another slap up meal – considering we are camping we are eating better than we do at home. Clearly having the time to plan meals, prepare and cook is what's making the difference, better not get too used to it as its back to ready meals once we are both working again!

Day Eight

France:L'argentierre

Saturday 12th July

A terrific thunderstorm through the night had us watching the streaks of lightning through Priscilla’s moon roof (other wise known as a massive sun roof) the rain came pelting down and it was reassuring to be in the warmth and dry of Priscilla. We where surprised to wake up in the morning to blue skies and we headed over to the wellness centre again for a swim, sauna, steam and Jacuzzi. After breakfast we decided to take a trip into Aubenas about 20K from Largentiere to see the market.

Our sat nav took us on some serious donkey tracks but we were rewarded with some stunning vistas of the hills and valleys. On arrival at Aubenas I managed a sneaky park just as a van had pulled out of a space really close to the market and we were dazzled by the sights and sounds of a traditional French market, complete with ducklings’ squeaking (is that what they do? – they don’t quack at that age!), rabbits twitching their noses and all manner of goods for sale. We bought some jewellery and clothes and where tempted to by much of the food we saw, but with a fridge full we were just happy wandering the streets browsing the stalls. Aubenas is a lovely town with some beautiful architecture. Soon the market was packing up and we headed back to the campsite via the supermarket for some essentials and arrived back to the campsite just as the heavens opened. And boy did they open!

It didn’t stop raining for the rest of the day but we were happy, having cracked open a bottle of champagne with some lunch safe inside Priscilla. The champers had been chilling since we left the UK (thank you very much Michelle, Jenny, Katie, Mary and Jill it was fabulous!). Then I gave Priscilla a present; I’d spied some Chinese style lanterns in the supermarket for a few euros and proceeded to string them up around the interior of Priscilla whilst we listened to music. The lights have really ‘gayed’ her up, a totally camp twist that’s made the interior so cosy at night.

In the evening we bottled out of cooking in the damp environs of the awning and headed off to the restaurant again for a goodbye splurge. I demolished some great foie gras washed down with complimentary a sweet local Viognier followed by the best beef steak I think I’ve ever had, it simply melted in my mouth. Due to the rain instead of dining alfresco on the terrace, as we had on previous nights, we ate in the cavern of the Auberge, an arching stone cellar room complete with feature lighting (I was at home!) and completely a buzz with that restaurant vibe.

Day Seven

France: L'argentierre

Friday 11th July

Awoke to a beautiful blue sky again Johnathon and I started the day with a swim, sauna, and jacuzzi in the wellness centre before a breakfast of pain au raison and my usual fix of caffeine. The rest of the day was a lazy one it clouded over later in the morning and so we spent some time reading catching, up on e-mails and the blog. In the early evening we cycled down into Largentiere to have a stroll around the village and take in the evening market, but somewhat un impressed (no food so little to keep us interested) we where soon cycling back up the hill back to the campsite.

A game of badminton accompanied by some SVB and it was soon time for another fabulous meal at the Auberge. I had the ardechoise salad and roast chicken, cheese and crème brule J had similar, washed down by there jolly decent house white, “c’est parfait!”

Day Six

France: L'argentierre

Thursday 10th July

We awoke early to another cloudless cobalt blue sky, I headed into the wellness centre for an early morning swim. I had the new pool all to myself and swimming around outdoors in the early morning sun surrounded by the green hills, I couldn’t have been happier. The wellness centre is just amazing, a really modern contemporary design and best of all children under 16 are banned! Wow I was in 7th heaven!

Energised by the swim we had fresh croissants for breakfast and headed out on the mountain bikes down the valley into Largentiere. A cutesy stone village clinging to the hillside, we picked up the latest info from the tourist information office and then pedalled on back up the hill and around the environs of the campsite until the sun got the better of us and a swim was necessary.

2pm and I had booked a chiropractic massage for an hour in the wellness centre. The English physio did an amazing job at putting my spine back into line, with neck and back adjustments galore I didn’t realise how out of line my spine had become, the physio really knew his stuff.

After beers and a late lunch we snoozed in the shade of the trees and were back in the fitness centre, by the pool sunbathing until gone 7pm. We had an evening BBQ with sausison aux herbs for starters, veal accompanied with Johnathon’s special mushroom and 3 pepper sauce, broccoli and fried potatoes cubes and naturally lots of SVB! Our little BBQ oven is so very versatile!

Around 9:30pm we headed up to the bar to watch the pink cabaret (we had to see this) it was an eclectic mix of mime, comedy and interactive games set to music and lights, all very amateur but after several glasses of wine and more beer who cared! It made us laugh and was a great atmosphere, the campsite is over run with Dutch people and they had all certainly got into the spirit of the evening with that typical European party feeling.

Day Five

France: Tarn Valley to L'argentierre

Wednesday 9th July

The day started early as I awoke in the middle of the night, a great opportunity for star gazing with no light pollution in the valley and a clear night, the stars and galaxies where looking spectacular. An opportunity for some reading and planning for the next part of the journey in the early hours before the need for sleep got the better of me.

We awoke and packed up Priscilla heading out on a scenic route deeper into the Gorges du Tarn, following a route up to the river Tarns source in the high Massive Central. A clear day without a cloud in the sky we sauntered through the valley stopping when ever we could to gaze at the views, click photos and marvel at the beauty of it all. We climbed higher and higher up the mountains, the ride height in Priscilla being a real bonus for sight seeing as we drove.

We reached the top of the Massive Central and stopped in a pine forest for lunch before we routed back down through the “donkey tracks” into the Ardeche river valley, our next destination. The last part of the descent was a little hairy, low on diesel and the warning light on, I took the last 30 KM of the steep descent, without pressing the gas pedal, using low gearings to conserve fuel, we made it to the first available diesel stop on thin air and a huge sigh of relief.

As we headed to our end destination we stopped at the Intermarche en route, stocking up again on provisions before reaching, Domaine Les Ranchisses, on the edge of the medieval village of Largentiere. It was a great feeling as we pulled into the driveway of this site, almost as if we had arrived home. It’s a place we’ve been to twice before and have many happy memories. New for 2008 was a wellness centre complete with gym, sauna, steam room, jacuzzi and outdoor pool with aqua massage loungers and waterfalls which we were looking forward to testing out.

We had soon set up home and were swimming in the main pool to cool off from the heat of the day. The whole site is set in a dramatic location with wooded rolling hills, a trickling river running down the side and a small lake, bar and delightful Auberge. It has a real feeling of tranquillity, being at one with nature.

Johnathon was particularly looking forward to eating in the Auberge and we were not disappointed. A superb 4 course meal for 21 euros each (bargain!) rounded off a fantastic day.

Day Four

Tuesday 8th July – Gorges du Tarn

Its been a while since I blogged (shame on me) busy having fun. I had hired a canoe with the campsite reception. We were met by a friendly French/German chap who pulled up from the depths of the campsite in a banged up old Renault estate with a pink canoe strapped to the roof (how appropriate!). So complete with life jackets, 2 barrels for our belongings and 2 paddles we were chauffeured on deeper into the gorge.

Our driver was a font of local knowledge telling us the best restaurants pointing out old houses built into the caves inside of the gorge and advising us that the local cheese maker was renowned through out the region for its quality and value for money. We arrived at our launch point and were soon navigating our first white water rapids.

No strangers to canoeing we careered on through the first rapids like complete pro’s, the rest of the day was set as I took a sergeant major style approach to the whole experience at the front of the canoe and Johnathon diligently following orders in between doing his own thing as we sped on down the river.

The weather was sunshine and clouds, not the most ideal conditions for beaching the canoe, swimming and sunbathing; however seeing the gorge from the middle of the river is a most exhilarating experience, totally at one with nature with trout swimming in front of the canoe and dragonflies buzzing past. We had chosen a leisurely 12KM route ending at the campsite and as we sailed on through the gorge the sun finally burnt off the clouds allowing us to bank the canoe on a deserted grassy beach, cracking open some beers and pulling out a picnic as 3 birds of prey circled above us on the thermals and storks glided past. As we munched away it didn’t take long for the ducks to hunt us out and they were rewarded with the remainder of our bread.

We neared the end of our route and only took on board water at a couple of the rapids but not once capsizing. It was a great feeling to arrive back at the campsite tired and aching but a real sense of achievement. A hot shower and more beer was in order and later Johnathon rustled up a lentil cassoulet with French fries supplied form the campsite takeaway, all washed down with the obligatory SVB.

Day Three

Its Monday and the morning starts with tidying up some loose ends on the new job front. Having had the weekend to contemplate its decision time on the job offers front.

My headhunter is texting and e-mailing as she enters into final negotiations for me. In the meantime I've plugged one of the fridges into Priscilla thinking we would be off on the days adventure soon, but the e-mails and phone calls take longer than I anticipated and by the time we where finally ready to head out for the day I'd run Priscilla's battery flat!

What a bannana!

So it was time to test out my French again at reception and I managed to blag a battery charger off the owner. So with Priscilla on charge, we ate the planned picnic on the campsite as we watched in anticipation the battery meter flicker about, hoping it was indeed just the battery and not Priscilla having a queeny strop!

After lunch the battery still wasn't enough to turn Priscilla over and I couldn't handle the anticipation, with a phone call imminent on the job front I needed to head out and forget things for a while. We decided on a river walk from the campsite. Wild jasmin and sweet peas were growing by the rivers edge and trout swimming around, it was an idyllic place for a walk and beautiful place get the confirmation that I had been waiting for, negotiations were complete and I had a new job waiting for me at the end of August.

We returned to Priscilla later in the afternoon and hey presto she turned, with the engine running we jumped in and headed out into the mountains to visit the Abime De Bramabiau, an underground river and waterfall system stretching for 11km, discovered in 1888 of which 1km is open to the public via a guide. Amazing place, in an enchanting location, it made for a spectacular end to the day.

Day Two

We awake to the sound of the birds and the trees rustling, after a very comfortable nights sleep in Priscilla, my home for the summer.

We pack up and stop by a Boulangerie, Boucherie and Grocers to buy Tarte aux Fraise (strawberry tarts) a particular favourite of mine, real French bread, pork and sausages and stock up on some basics like Orangina (why does it taste better in France?), cheese ham, pate and water.

Our next destination is Le Puy en Velay, a childhood memory of volcanic intrusions and a tree covered mountains is the driving force behind this intended stop over.

We motor on, picnicking as we drive (well I am partnered to a hospitality manager!) and Priscilla makes light work of it as she bombs down the French auto route at speeds that even my 4x4 would struggle to maintain. Johnathon gets to grips with the yet un named Sat Nav which is proving to be extremely accurate.

We then hit a torrential storm on the northern edge of the massif central, speeds are down to 20 KM/hr on the autoroute and I'm checking for leaks, but Priscilla holds her own and ploughs on through the storm. With the thunder and lighting adding to the dramatic effect we decide that a stop over in a rainy Le Puy en Velay is no longer such an appealing proposition, so we re route and choose a new destination, the Gorges du Tarn to the east of Millau and past the storm.

This is the river valley that the new Norman Foster motorway bridge spans, its a impressive site from down in the valley. We rock up at Les Peupliers campsite, on the banks of the river Tarn, we managed to bag a riverside spot as the sun comes out. Its a stunning location with really friendly staff and fabulous facilities.

We unpack the side extension for Priscilla, a tunnel tent affair that zips up and allows you to drive away with your gear left off view inside and keeps you camping spot safe. Its the only argue free putting up of a tent that we've ever had! Testament to the ease of the design and speed it goes up, a real result!

With the mountain bikes we head off for a spin around the campsite, an eclectic mix of Dutch, French , Belgium, German and a smattering of English makes for an international melting pot of culture's.

Johnathon works his wonders on the catering and a BBQ ensues with pork au Roquefort and Gratin Dauphinoise sloshed down with a bottle of SVB (Sauvignon Blanc for the uninitiated)!

Day One

 Day one

4:45 am Ray and J say goodbye to Cleaopatra and Belvedere Creek and say hey to Priscilla. We motor on down to Dover for a 6am ferry driving straight onto the Norfolk lines ship to Dunkirk. We crashed down on some banquets and grabbed some much needed shut eye as the last minute preparations had been going on all week in the the early hours.

8:45am European time and the ferry docks and we head for our first destination Sainbury's wine! We stock up with a Crate of Hoegarden and 4 half cases of Sauvignon Blanc (plus a couple of reds for the road!)

Priscilla runs like a dream through the autoroute after her recent servicing.

We arrive south of Paris and Versailles at a our first destination Rambouillet in a forest encampment managed by Hutopia. Its an environmentally neutral campground the aim being to leave no footprint in the forest. We enter the green warriors world with a very warm welcome and my first French test, the receptionist forcing me to reply in French, my first words of French in a while. The site is beautiful, a natural swimming pool that uses no chemicals (reed beds and plants filter the water) and everything is calming and tranquil we crack open a bottle of wine order pizza from a wood fired oven and take much needed rest, spending our first night in Priscilla the Queen of Europe.