Tuesday 19 May 2009
Tomorrow I leave for a five week trip to France in my brand new shiny motorhome.

I have one day to sort out new gas (not usually a problem but my usual supplier has run out), get the electrics sorted (which I eventually do) and pack, fill with water and complete the 101 jobs you have to do when taking your entire home (INCLUDING the kitchen sink!) along with you.

We have joined a ‘club’ called ‘Passion France’ which is basically a list of hundreds of  vineyards, farms and other places throughout France where we can stop for the night for free

Facilities at these places are very limited and certainly no plug-in, but they are generally very quiet usually having three or so rough pitches. The good thing is they are usually off the beaten trap and often in scenic locations. I intend to stop at these sites more often than not and in my journal they are described as ‘Passion’ sites.

Wednesday 20 May
We leave my home in Cheshire for Kent where I am going to drop a passenger off – my Mum who’s bummed a lift down to her friends.
12:30 We stop at Crawley Services to show Mum the wonders of cooking on the road – not literally of course- we have a cooker for the purpose. I make an egg butty and grab half an hour’s kip but when I wake up I can see immediately that the whole of the motorway has come to a complete stop. Ever the optimist, we leave and join the queue and spend the next hour at a virtual standstill. It’s not helped hearing ‘Sally Traffic’ telling us that the offending vehicle is “just past” where we are.
17:30. We arrive at our friend’s house near Faversham, a handy stopover for the Channel crossing. Lovely meal and then an early night – exhausting stuff all this driving!

Thursday 21 May
Up early and set off for Dover.

After a smooth crossingI disembark and stop at the first roundabout to set my SatNav.

.Setting off again I fail to see a Frenchie who is forced to go round the roundabout again as I have strategically placed my motorhome to block his exit. As he passes I notice he is towing a caravan so serves him right!
Setting my SatNav to “no tolls” (cheapskate!) means I am soon rewarded with a lovely drive through green countryside , slowing down for villages and small towns with lots to see. Let’s be honest, you wouldn’t get to see geese from the motorway, even if they are probably waiting to be forced fed corn this evening!
13:30. My first accident! I pass a perfect place to stop for lunch and turn right into a small road to turn round. Unable to do a one point turn I reverse … straight into a white cottage. I have damaged the bike rack but the cottage looks unscathed so I scoot off.
15:00. After only a couple of hours driving alone the voice of the SatNav has become my one and only friend UNTIL I realise she is sending me the wrong way. I find her treachery disappointing especially as I was starting to find her voice quite sexy.
I stop for fuel and exchange the usual pleasantries with the attendant realising that it’s the first French I have spoken (or heard) since I crossed the Channel.
I reassess my Satnav and decide to stick with my original objective; St Valery.
Lots and lots of motorhomes who all wave but they are nearly all coach built so, being an “A class” I don’t bother waving back.
Driving along, I notice my passenger side window is slightly down and making a noise so I stretch over to press the ‘up’ button. It is a BIG reach and I am only able to do it because the autocruise is set and I only just maintain a hold on the steering wheel with the tips of one hand. I realise it is even more dangerous than reading the map while driving (guilty) and updating my journal while driving (guilty) and resolve never to do it again (or update my journal).

17:00. Arrive at the small port of St Valery. It is very busy. The town is full of tourists and the small harbour is full of boats and the motorhome park is full of … yes, you’ve guessed … motorhomes!

I do a long, tricky reverse under the watchful eye of every European nationality all probably thinking “glad I got here early!”. But the truth is I am not really bothered because they are as tightly packed as the boats in the harbour – not my idea of fun (unless it was a Swedish girls … no, don’t go there!)
I park outside the Tourist Office and ask the very attractive lady behind the desk whether she speaks English?
‘Yes’, she replies, ‘Do you speak French?”
‘Pardon, Non’, I say, ‘Mon Francaise est terrible. Un petit pois’, realising IMMEDIATELY that I have said ‘A small peas’. She is amused (in a nice way) and I quickly correct myself. She points me in the direction of another car park. As I leave she says ‘Bravo’, for my attempt to speak French. She’s just made my day.
Arriving at the quiet, but non-descript car park on the outskirts of town, I set up camp.
At  21:00 I am joined by another van who has obviously found no room at the inn (or rather the harbour) but amazingly, given the large empty car park, he chooses to park RIGHT next to me. Why? What is it about motorhomers that they feel the need to group together like a herd of wary Impalas on an open plain? He looks over but I feign indifference.

Friday 22 May 2009
I set the SatNav to Roches near Orleans, a location in the ‘France Passion’ book. This book lists hundreds of vineyards, farms, etc where motorhomes are welcome to stop at no charge. They usually have a shop where they sell wine of produce but there is no compulsion to buy.
There followed an uneventful day travelling south on main roads and motorways  past Rouen, Chartes before turning onto successively smaller roads until at 17:00 I turned onto a farm track leading to an isolated farm 25 miles west of Orleans.

A collection of old, large, well kept, tidy barns are grouped round a large farmhouse set within a large clump of trees surrounded by acres and acres of open fields full of various crops. Mousier climbs off his tractor and I get out of my van to greet him. He directs me to a large gravel area and leaves me to it.

Over a non-alcoholic beer, I reflect on the highlight of my day, stopping at a supermarket to buy a soapholder for the bathroom.
18:00. drink – book – dinner – book – bed – book – sleep.

Saturday 23 May 2009
I get up, shave, breakfast etc … no hurry … I fill up with water (always grateful to be full) and get away driving alongside huge green fields with no hedges, just the odd clump of trees.
Into the Loire valley where its more slopey and wooded. I encounter a problem driving through the lovely town of Beaugency with its impressive chateau.

My SatNav doesn’t know how wide the van is (or how wide I think it is) and as I make my way through the narrow street it all gets tighter and tighter with parked (or more like abandoned) cars in narrow streets. However, I suddenly emerge from the twisted, narrow streets to find myself on the old bridge crossing the River Lore and its all OK again – breath a BIG sigh of relief as I accelerate out of town.
Thereafter it’s a straight run down the N20 through mainly forested countryside towards Bourges.
The Autocruise is great. Not only does it allow me to rest my right foot on longer stretches but it also frees my right foot to drum along with the baseline on my iPod tunes. This, combined with the acoustic side panels (ride) and hollow steering wheel (snare), is the only entertainment I need.
At lunchtime I get towards the centre of the large, rather modern town of Bourges when it opens out and I find myself driving through the historic centre. There is a river, a mill pond, a weir and a large mill complete with water-wheel – all very pretty. The cathedral is very impressive.

I am conscious that I am passing through these places and missing a lot, however, I want to get south and the truth is I am seeing more than if I took the faster route on the motorway.
Travelling through much more mountainous countryside I stop at Aire St Eloy les Mines, a nice site overlooking a lake, however, all the best pitches are all taken and, once again, all the vans are packed in like sardines so I do a ‘one pointer’ and travel on.
Climbing up a steep hill, I spot a large picnic spot with great views over the valley including a view of a hill top castle. This photo was the view I had from the back window of the van.

There are no signs indicating restrictions so I park, get out a beer and settle down for the night.

I am only disturbed by the occasional tourists who park their car, get out, take a photo of the castle and leave. It’s a bit isolated so I double check the doors before going to bed but in the event it proves to be a quiet night.

Sunday 24 June
I wake up to a boiling hot day. I have breakfast while listening to Radio 5. This being the last day of the football season the program mainly features stories relating to ‘Survival Sunday’, however, given the teams struggling in the Premiership, it might be better described as ‘Nervous Northerners’.
I take the time to tackle the accumulation of insects that are threatening the colour scheme of the van. Take it from me, some wildlife WAS killed during the making of this trip, particularly large butterflies that splat softly leaving a yellow mess which the windscreen washers can’t remove. It reminds me of the old question … what’s the last thing that goes through a fly’s mind when it hits a windscreen? Answer … it’s arsehole! (LOL)
I set off south and realise I’ve not shaven, brushed my teeth or taken my medicine. I really do need to maintain standards! I stop at the first layby and see to the jobs realising I have taken greater care of my new van than I have of myself!
At lunch, I take a detour and head for a stretch of water I’ve seen on the map just south of St Flour. It returns out to be a great decision as I find myself by a lake marred only by the occasional jet skier who (I figure quite rightly) will be gone later. I decide to stop here for the rest of the day and overnight as it will put me in a great position to stop at the Millau Viaduct tomorrow.

It’s hot. VERY hot! After lunch I decide I can’t sit doing nothing so get a bit of sun cream on and go for a walk. The lake is actually a long winding reservoir. There are half a dozen jetties with a variety of small craft alongside. There are not many people around; a couple of families introducing toddlers to paddling, a few dog owners and their pets, some oldies (like me) pottering about in the sunshine and a group of lads who have built a ramp and are taking in turns to use it as a lunch pad for their push bike.
A small motor cruiser makes for the gravel shore with someone on the bow with a rope. Suddenly the outboard motor screams out of control, the guy on the helm turns sharply away from the shore, the guy with rope falls in the water and watches as the boat zig-zags across the water with the remaining person on board dividing his time, almost cartoon fashion, between steering the boat from the small cabin and attempting to stop the engine at the stern – Tres humerous!
I do the only thing possible in the heat – go back to the van and have a beer.
I am sitting there, contemplating life when a substantial tourist boat glides slowly by. Fifty or so happy holiday makers sit and stare at me – Ah, just like home.

18:00 With the heat out of the day I go for a bike ride through the stunning valley but it ends up being a bit too steep so I turn back and freewheel back to base. I get back to a pretty much deserted site and notice lots of rings in the water as fish rise to the surface to feed. I get my Fishmaster 240 PRO (£9.99 at Lidls complete with EVERYTHING except bait) and hastily assemble a rig using my nil knowledge. Despite wasting 90 minutes and a slice of wholemeal bread catching nothing, I still enjoy myself. I see lots of fish but they are all tiddlers and certainly nowhere big enough to put up a fight.
I have a shower and dinner then reach for the remote control and see if Man Utd are on the MOTD? Of course they are and I manage to stay awake just long enough to see our second team beat Hull 0 -1.

Monday 25 May
Up and back on the road at 09:00 and a straight run south to the Millau Viaduct where I have to pay six euros for the privilege of driving across the highest road bridge in the world. Before driving over I stop at the Aire to get a few pictures of this amazing structure which was built to bypass the town of Millau which used to be a horrendous bottleneck for traffic travelling on this major N/S artery. The view for the specially constructed viewing platform does not disappoint.

The scale of the structure, coupled with its sleek, curving BRITISH design is amazing. I am a bit disappointed with the Aire ; I read that it had the only Michelin starred restaurants in a motorway service station, however, it is closed for major refurbishment and the whole place is a building site.
I cross the viaduct (no choice really!) then drop down the steep sided valley into Millau town for provisions. After lunch I head out to find one of the ‘Passion France’ sites. climbing up the steep sides of the valley and up through the passes until I turn off to a single track road which winds torturously up and up round hairpins which I struggle to get round. The photo shows how tight it was!

Emerging above the tree line I end up in a field by the side of a farm house. Madame, who comes out of an adjoining field to greet me, turns out to be very pleasant and explains she keeps Angoran goats from who’s hair she makes jumpers, scarves and the like and “did I want to see them?” – err, no thank you. She leaves me to my own devices. I have a quite night only disturbed by the occasional low flying jet fighter that screams overhead presumably using the farm house as a navigation aid.

week 2