Places

30
Aug
2022

The Hills are Alive ……

As far as I’m aware, this must be my first ever time in Austria, and admittedly the weather has shown it in a late summer sunshine light, but it only brings forth emotion which I want to record. I do wish everyone had the privilege that I have had to be able to drink in ‘in real life’ such parts of planet Earth. The mountains are majestic, the Eidelweiss, Heidi upland meadows are gorgeous, and the villages and houses are chocolate-box stuff.

The motorways are amazing – tunnels, side barriers which blend in aesthetically with the landscape, and protect the alpine villages they pass from some of the noise; they also have signs requiring vehicles to drive at lower speeds at nightime for the same reasons.

And I was really fortunate to choose an overnight stop in a place which was just off the A10 motorway from Salzburg to Villach called Flachau, based on the distance I would have driven and the fact of overnight recommendations from my Park4Night app.  I had expected the village to be in a deep valley, which would be in the shadows of the mountains, and I would have been glad enough of a safe place to stop. but in effect I came out of a tunnel into a wide valley, with this beautiful summer cycling and walking, and winter ski destination in front of me.

Parking behind a restaurant alongside the crystal-clear turquoise river worked, and even though the motorway was just nearby, the river and noise protection barriers did the job, which for fusspot me re road noise was an achievement.

It was so lovely, that despite the fact I was just stopping over, and needed to do my recovery zombie hibernation, I decided to get the bike out from under my bed and explore the village and surroundings in the friendly, warm(!) mountain breeze.

This post was typed mostly at a lunch break, having gone through the stress of being informed, when expecting the purchasing of a Slovenian motorway ‘vignette’ (toll) to be as straightforward as with Austria, that I needed to produce my car ownership docs. My rabbit-caught-in-the-headlight act as my brain was put on the spot was able to move sufficiently quickly to the conclusion that I did not have said document with me on these travels, but aha remembered that I had at the last minute decided I’d better take a photo of it. The officious men with the power behind the booths accepted the photo. I had managed the navigation of the Llubjlana ring road and was enjoying the countryside from the A2 and anticipating the last half day of my journeying to reach Croatia.

I was just looking at changing my route from sticking to the motorways and going past Zagreb, to risking the cross-country (didn’t want to end up doing a hare and tortoise thing or raise my anxiety levels again unnecessarily), when a young hitch-hiker guy asked if I was heading for Zagreb. Having ascertained that he didn’t have an axe in his backpack, and that he would be happy for his mother to be in my place giving someone like him a lift, I returned to my original plan, and he joined me for a 70km stretch of my journey. Maximillian was his name, from Tubingen in Germany, studying Sport Science and before going back to uni, hitchhiking + ‘couch surfing’ over to Romania and possibly as far as the Black Sea, to check out some distant heritage from over there. He spent last year in Western Canada, then got a van, semi-converted it and drove it down the west coast to Mexico. It was a lovely conversation, and reminded me of a lift I gave in similar circumstances to a young man several years ago in the UK. In actual fact, Maximillian was useful for paying a toll and handing my passport over with his, to a surly Croatian border guard. I know it’s not really a joking matter, but the guard failed in his duty to test whether I was possibly trafficking this young guy 🙂 He was distinctly uninterested, and in fact communicated all of a sudden and in no uncertain terms, in Croatian but we got the drift 😂 that we had spent enough time in front of his booth and should GET A MOVE ON as Max was saying he wanted a stamp in his passport, as I had been thankful to get in mine. I was surprised at the border being patrolled, as with the UK, then I remembered that Croatia is not part of the Schengen area, presenting travel duration extension possibilities for countries ‘third’ to the EU. Don’t get me started. Cutting slack, I would not want to be working in a booth processing thousands of passports/people all day every day.

Long story short, I have actually managed to arrive in Croatia at the campsite I targeted, which is near the tourist town of Duga Resa, on the beautiful Mreznica river. I’ve got a lovely spot, but it’s too far away from the campsite’s wifi and the mobile signal is only just good enough to do something like complete this post, which I’ve now had enough of. I want to get the train tomorrow into Zagreb which has been recommended as being worth a visit.

Photos to be added tomorrow, in the presence of proper wifi connection. This requirement needed to meet my digital nomad ambitions will have to be as high a priority as the most perfect seaside pitch I can find when I move to the coast. Goodnight.

Posted by admin in Austria, Croatia, Places
28
Aug
2022

Ukraine At Home, Croatia At Last

Life in new lanes found me today at a complete parkup on a motorway, still despite my advancing years a rare event, with a helicopter having landed further up so we were there for a duration. I was once again sitting pretty, not quite ‘on’ 😊, but due to the toilet on board, and the fact that the sun was shining, I had a coffee in my mug and was finally heading to where I have wanted to go for a long time. Lots of German, Belgian, Dutch holiday traffic, so everyone was outside of their cars, walking dogs, sharing conversation…   Without the sun, it would have been perhaps a different atmosphere. 

Given that it’s cost a few hundred pounds to renew my blog site domain name for the next 3 years, and what better could I be doing, I decided to type my first post for almost a year since my last trip over the channel – as I was happily waiting.  That was just south of Cologne, heading for this journey’s 3rd stage destination of beyond Stuttgart. 

I have had to re-assess my capacity for hours driving, as my original aims were to drive after work on Friday the 5 hours down to Canterbury, board ferry at 6am in Dover, then drive from Dunkirk across Belgium, Germany, Austria, Slovenia arriving in northern Croatia by Monday, including a shortish diversion to meet my son and girlfriend near Cologne on my birthday!!!  Notwithstanding the only 2 hours sleep I had after the Stage 1 drive, prior to which I had had to put my trust in the satnav at 11:45pm leading me through dark roads, up what seemed like steep climbs in the middle of nowhere, to arrive at the council-provided official motorhome parking area. To boot, a warning light suddenly appearing and I didn’t want to find my glasses and process it whilst driving until setting off the following morning.  Fantastic though Canterbury, and thanks from me, Blue and the 20 or so other vans there for the provision. The following morning, or 4:30am middle of the night, engine ignition revealed the warning to be that Adblue was needed. Thankfully after initially going through the plan to have to buy a 10-litre container of it somewhere in Dunkirk and buy another funnel to get it into the inlet on the van, my brain came up trumps with the memory of the fact that there are Adblue pumps on service stations.  Sure enough, the first one I passed on the way to the ferry port had the very thing, easy peezy, stress alleviated, and better still removal off the problem list henceforth.

Notwithstanding also (1st notwithstanding was para 3 and sentence number 2) my determination to be almost the slowest vehicle on the autobahn, cruise-controlling at 58mph, resisting the all nationality and non-lorry vehicles dash to the southern coasts, by constantly reminding myself that I am time-rich and cash-poor.  Because it is exciting being part of the throng of like-minded movement, seeking the mirage? of a paradise beach.

The contract I started last December is still continuing and I am delighted to be remote working, doing the most enjoyable and rewarding work of my life, so it’s coming with me on this trip as I give digital nomadery a shot, and join my new tribe – the primarily young, cool, north american vanlife vloggers. 

I had originally booked a ferry from Venice to Patras for May, but cancelled this due to the amazing achievement more than 3 months ago of a Ukrainian family actually getting their visas through the shambolic British Homes4Ukraine scheme.  They duly arrived to my house 11 May, and continue to establish, as best they can, a life of sorts in the UK given what Putin and his cabal have done to their country and the lives of its you and me equivalents.

Who would have predicted that 2022 would have followed a 2-year pandemic which completely upturned the world (at least my one); bringing a repeat of a Nazi dictatorship, but with the addition of nuclear power plants and the red button, even if it hasn’t gone for another holocaust of ‘others’ as a rallying, unifying, justified and worthwhile cause which recent history shows any population can be sufficiently brainwashed or rendered fearful enough for their own lives to buy into.  The threat is there for us all with the slippery slope of the rise of governments appealing to usually right-wing populist simplistic tropes to maintain their ‘world-beating’ position, the gradual, imperceptible watering down, or actual removal of opposition or balancing structures of state, and the re-definition of patriotism as allegiance to the government because it is one and the same as one’s country.

Well, stepping off the soap box again ……, so there I was 2 weeks ago, contemplating going to theTwinwood vintage music festival – see my post about it from last year – when the thought suddenly presented itself that instead of paying for that over the Sat-Mon bank holiday weekend, the money and time could instead go towards crossing the channel and heading for Croatia to finally achieve some of my planned 2019 career break eastern leg.

I am delighted, and aware as ever of my life’s fortunate time, place and, still there just opportunities and days for the seizing, to be driving once again on these roads through beautiful countryside, marvelling at the engineering and infrastructure investment, this time of Germany.  The A61 and A8 motorways I’m on are to be recommended – the great viaducts across wide/high vineyard-covered valleys, a volcano-area, lots of forest and just space!  And in addition, my 2nd night spent on a motorhome stellplatz (small dedicated motorhome car park) provided by the town/village council – this one for 6 euros at Weilheim an Teck, last night was free.  Onwards and will presumably be upwards tomorrow as I aim for a stellplatz behind an inn in Austria south of Salzburg. So that would be day 3, meaning day 4 brings me to northern Croatia to a small town called Duga Resa and a campsite stop for the luxury of two nights, with hopefully a train visit to Zagreb.

I can certainly recommend the radio station SDW giving fantastic driving companionship right up my street with mostly American/British classics from the 60s onwards all day. Belting out the below with a shoulder shimmy for you Dad …….’ interspersed with listening to stuff like an interview (of course in German) with someone who’d just been to the Robbie Williams concert in Munich, and the station playing him singing Angels with the crowd. Loving the exercise my brain at least is getting, and thinking as I drive and sing about the parts of my life spent with things German.

Weilheim an der Teck
Posted by admin in Germany, Musings, The Good
27
Sep
2021

More ‘non plain sailing’

I spent 3 nights with my old friend Carole and her constant companion Ted on a lovely site ‘L’Olivier in Junas, near the historic small town of Sommieres between Nimes & Montpellier. The good is of course the company and the location, and the fantastic 3m-wide voie verte which runs on an old railway line from Nimes. Sommieres is well worth a visit, and it was fun to happen upon market day on Saturday, 3 km brisk ride on the flat from Junas

However after a 3rd night being dive-bombed by mozzies, this after spending 2 hours before bed with lights on, zapping them, with the essential piece of kit to the left, desperately keeping all net screens in place, hardly wanting to risk opening the back doors to pack stuff up to my garage, enough was enough, time to move on.

I was feeling confident driving. I had this time decided on the route from the map in the old-fashioned way, and it worked a treat, going anti-clockwise on what seemed like a ring-road round Montpellier, to end up on the best road heading to a familiar destination. So on I mused about all the miles and routes I’d covered over the years with very few mishaps. In fact the only damage I caused to Monte 1 or 2 was causing the back door bike rack to be slightly bent on the latter as I reversed onto a pitch and against a tree very momentarily, no reversing camera, at Lake Como, Camping Lazy Sheep – I do like to recall the site’s name :). Actually just checked as I do like to be accurate – it’s ‘Golden Sheep’, only slightly less amusing to me., but lovely campsite.

Despite these driving feats, I had decided to downsize by 1 metre to Blue at 6m for the obvious benefits, not least the maneouvering, so it is with annoyance and a wry smile as I record here that I have caused damage to a wing-mirror and bodywork trying to get the van onto a campsite with very narrow approach road, the side wall of which I unfortunately caught by accident.

The glass of the essential (driving on the right) passenger wing mirror is holding together under sellotape, and the electronic movement controls are still working. The outside housing though has also been affected so this is being held in position with duct tape. I am determined to get it back to the UK for a spare part/fix, having failed to id the required mirror in a Halfords equivalent, and then being subjected to unbelievable sexist service which belongs out of the ark at Poitiers Citroen main dealer, to order the mirror for the sum of 105eu!!

Well-earned cup of tea later, read of my thriller, I beheld what I’ve driven down here for:

Yes it’s Marseillan Plage again – mediterranean sea at 23-24deg – just to make a certain individual very jealous. Good weather forecast until the end of the week, when I’ll start making my way north.

Posted by admin in Equipment, France, The Bad
20
Sep
2021

Mum’s house in Courry

This has been my first visit since June 2019, before Mum’s cancer returned and finally overcame her.  I have not experienced grief and sadness like this even at her death last March, and since the ending of my marriage.

The house has had 2 short visits last year, and now this September, but everything is more or less as she left it, down to the beach equipment, the crockery she assembled, her larder cupboard, the bathrooms she had done and equipped for everyone to use and so it goes on with every room.  Mum you’re so missing from your special place, your achievements here, the home from home you created, just you, so far away in this beautiful part of France.   

It is day two now, and despite trying to get the endorphins going with an online exercise session!, the sadness is continuing at the moment.  I think I will stay here though as planned for the next 3-4 days to live with the grief, because in a way I feel it’s overdue and it is revealing, I feel, all that she meant to me subconsciously. It remains to be seen whether I will able to take joy from this place again like she would no doubt want.

The story of her ownership of this house began after she had unexpectedly lost her husband, George, was concerned about her savings as the values fell significantly at a point in 2002, and an old friend who lived in this village happened to be selling the property, Laborie, within Mum’s available funds. 

Against all our (I and siblings) advice, she had made her decision and purchase it she did.  There followed many years of journeys out here at the age of 62, on her own, first with Ryannair from Blackpool or Liverpool to Nimes, then Nimes airport to Nimes train station, then a train to Ales, then the local train to St Ambroix, then a taxi or perhaps pick up from her friend for the last 7km journey upto Courry.  Bringing stuff out like bedding/towels in her suitcase.  Ryannair stopped flying from up north to Nimes, so she flew from Luton, the train line from Ales to St Ambroix was replaced by a bus, she eventually bought her friend’s little car and parked it at Nimes airport, where each time she arrived, she had to get the car park attendants to jump lead it!

Over time she removed all the wallpaper and replaced it with white paint, she installed 3 bathrooms, via her commissioning of the local French trades of course – imagine that with ‘O’ level French – one of them replacing the little room housing an internal septic tank when mains drainage came to town.  For a few years it seemed like every time you arrived, you never knew if there would be a leak from the old macerator toilet or its piping, or the original salle d’eau upstairs.  That does raise a smile.

It’s as if this house embodies so many of her attributes – she was indefatiguable, determined, capable, undeterred, positive, strong, and then welcoming, hospitable, wanting us all to share in it all with her. And for the last 10 years she was able to share it with her partner Jack, who engaged with it lock, stock and barrel, and she loved and was proud of it even more. See photos of the inside at post from 2 years ago: https://lifeinnewlanes.com/french-durrells-house-via-brief-stop-at-montpellier/

My family had lovely times here with her and their messages from one particular stay – got to be approx 12 years ago – Mum had put on the wall in the living room:

Posted by admin in Musings, Places
19
Sep
2021

Two wheel ascent to the Causse

For yesterday’s activity, from across the valley I could see the road ascending to the top above Florac, so I decided that this would be a good test of new trusty. We managed to do it – about 4.5km of ascent of approx 500m upto around 1000m – using mostly the 2nd level of power and for the last stretch only the first level of power, low gear and moving between 6 – 7 mph 😀. Don’t forget the weight of the bike plus locks, about 24kg, as well as mine (not revealing)!. I used only around half the battery for that. What a fantastic bike.

The road was good, but I still have to feel the fear of heights and do it anyway. Worth the views and the challenge though and to see the difference in landscape on the plateau and looking to the east into the Cevennes, where the high green upland pastures can be seen. So beautiful and varied. As a french couple from Brittany I chatted to at a brief stop said – we are spoilt in France.

  • The road can just be made out across the valley
  • Road up – doesn’t quite do it justice!
  • Nearly there – looking back to campsite
  • Star of the show 🙂
  • Up on a ‘Causse’

After 3 days stay at this lovely campsite, am off to the other side of the Cevennes – Courry & Mum’s house – for a few days re-visiting the Ardeche area.

Posted by admin in Equipment, France
18
Sep
2021

On Robert Louis Stevenson’s Chemin but with bike not donkey

  • The limestone upland (causse) can be seen rising up above Florac
  • Idyllic setting for a fish farm, water eventually surfacing from the plateau above
  • Part of the ‘chemin’

Have spent the last two nights on a lovely 2-star campsite in Bedoues-Cocures, a village a couple of kms or so outside of Florac in the Gorges du Tarn/Cevennes region. My pitch is almost on the river bank, in a landscape of beautiful forested steep gorges, clear water rivers, historic villages and striking upland limestone plateaus called ‘Les Causses’.

This area is also mountainous – Florac is at about 500m above sea level. The mountains Lozere and Aigoual are over 1500m.

My ride into Florac yesterday took me completely unexpectedly on a small part of the above. If the weather is going to hold, I may decide to attempt to take my bike – or rather with confidence that it will take me -up a gorge ascent road to the plateau above.

Posted by admin in France