Of Poreč and Pirates

Our Rough guide chapter on Istria had highlighted the port town of Poreč, just a few kilometers from our campsite near Funtana, so we thought we’d have a look. As we followed yet another scenic, but direct-route-deviating peninsula on our cycle route north, we soon realised that a short distance (as the crow flies) and a short ride, would soon mean very different things.

This part of the Croatian coast is blessed with dual-purpose cycle/walking tracks that (often literally) follow the coastline. They are interesting for lots of reasons: the scenery right on the rocky coast can at times be outstanding; they are a lovely way to explore in a hot climate, as for much of the time they cut through woodland that runs right to the shore’s edge; they pass many photogenic sights (some of which are helpfully signposted as such, in case budding photographers were unsure of where to best take a good pic); they pass plenty of bars/cafés etc, most of which are just setting up at this early-ish part of the season; and, intriguingly, they also cut through campsite and hotel grounds that let onto the seashore. As far as we could tell, this is a legal requirement to allow public access, so long as you don’t try and sell anything! We’ll see how this pans out as we travel more of the Croatian coastline, but it’s an interesting approach to balancing a public ‘right to roam’ the coastline, with commercial interests that want a piece of the coastline for their guests.

After a good hour of zigzagging our way along the wooded shore, with the Adriatic shimmering invitingly on one side, we arrived at the port of Poreč. We were struck immediately by the posh motor cruisers moored up, the dual language signs (it’s also known by its Italian name of Porenzo) and the absence of the hordes of ice-cream wielding tourists our Rough guide had warned us of from May to September. Apart from wanting to have lunch out after an appetite-prepping ride, we’d come mainly to look at the Romanesque Basilica of Euphrasius, a UNESCO Heritage site.

After chaining our bikes to a lamp post (checking first that it was OK with a passing local), we wandered into the old town in search of the basilica, clocking potential eateries to return to as we ambled through the very picturesque ‘Dekumanska’ – the old Roman main street. Using only the page map in our Rough guide and Mr B’s unfailingly accurate sense of direction, we managed to walk right past the edge of it without realising, taking pictures as we went and blissfully ignorant that we’d snapped bits of it whilst still searching for it!

After finding the wrong church first, we sought help in a local bookshop, from where, and equipped with a larger scale town map, we were able to find it in a few minutes. The grounds of the basilica are enclosed and the layout is set out very clearly, with multilingual signboards to help explain each area.

We’re not usually big fans of ecclesiastical sights but the basilica held the attraction of being established in the mid-to-late Roman period, at the point that Christianity was starting to be recognised. Some of the sights in the basilica hark back to these early days.

One of the best bits has to be the bell tower though, with views to all points of the compass and the looming presence of the four big bells. They are still used, so you need to choose your time to climb the steep stairways to the top.

The bit most folks come to marvel at however, is the 13C apse which was indeed pretty impressive.

Sated with the basilica and with tummies rumbling, we headed off to find an eatery. Mrs B has a great eye for possible eateries and before long we had ambled back to one she had spotted as we entered the old town that had good views of some of the older buildings in the town.

90 minutes later we had tucked away a couple of Croatia’s ubiquitous Aperol-spritzers, and shared some delicious mussels and a ‘scampi pasta,’ whilst listening to the owner and a group of Ukrainians and Romanians discussing the dubious benefits of democracy, in English.

Keeping our opinions to ourselves (Istria is generally liberal/left leaning but you never know…) we then girded our loins for the return ride. With the benefit of hindsight we were able to return by a slightly more direct route, with the glimmer of a plan that we might just sign up for one of the many day-trips by boat that left Poreč for trips down the coast to Rovinj, Vrsar and the Limski ‘canal’ – all on our itinerary anyway!

A colleague of Mrs B’s once said “Never put any obstacles between an old person and free food!”; an observation that was to be a theme of the day on the boat trip!

We arrived bright and early for the 10am sailing and were welcomed on board by the lovely crew.  Surprised (and secretly pleased) that an 80+ capacity boat was sailing with just a dozen guests, we smugly took our seats on the prow of the boat for the best views.  Ten minutes later we pulled into the next bay to collect a party of forty elderly Germans, complete with tour guide and microphone.

The next hour was spend being deafened by a loud and apparently hilarious commentary on the coastline, nudism in Croatia (the boat sailed a little too close to some sunbathing nudists, causing a huge roar to emit from the party), Casanova (who stayed in Vrsar, one of our stop offs) and other amusing anecdotes which were completely lost on us!

The sun was shining though, and the views were wonderful, even if the sea was a little choppy and the breeze a tad brisk.

An hour and a half later we were in Rovinj, a picture postcard of a fishing village and a welcome two-hour escape from our fellow passengers. Once past the slightly touristy market on the harbour, it was fascinating to wander up through the town, past the combination of artist-colony businesses, tucked in with the eateries and day-to-day info on politics and music events. There was even a large convoy of guided cyclists that rode through – a popular way of seeing this part of the coastline.

Back on board, lunch (included in the bargain £25 fare) was served.  Foolishly we imagined this would be eaten in the harbour, but captain and crew had a timetable to stick to, so we went lurching off into the high seas as the valiant crew balanced plates of delicious, freshly grilled mackerel, chicken skewers, smoked sausages, salad, and the all important litre carafes of wine.  Our dining companions, an Austrian couple, branded the wine ‘a disgrace’ and agreeing, we stuck to juice and water. 

Next up, the Limski canal, famous for its farmed oysters and mussels nowadays, but in the past had made a name for itself by (allegedly) being a hiding place for Captain Morgan of rum fame. 

By this point much disgraceful wine had been imbibed by the rest of the passengers, and the waters were calmer, encouraging one of the guests to stand up and take the microphone (we think they’d lost the guide in Rovinj), and regale the assembled German speakers with more anecdotes.  Cue much laughter and singing and a sneaky bit of wine re-allocation from our table to the one behind.

As the boat headed back into open seas, we reclaimed our perch on the bow just as an elderly woman tottered over to rescue our table’s second carafe.  By now it was getting very messy with more wine and a second round of fish, chicken and sausages being stowed away by our shipmates.  We suppose the crew have to break the monotony of these trips somehow as suddenly, the boat seemed to turn and hit a wave broadside, soaking the passengers, who gamely tried to leap up. One chap went sprawling headlong across a table as jugs of juice went sliding down, exploding their contents all over the guests and deck.  It was chaos – and just a little entertaining from our vantage point 

In the tiller room, the captain was grinning from ear to ear…

By the time we reached Vrsar it was time for the crew to clean up whist we had freedom to roam for an hour before the final leg back to Poreč. We were convinced that this stop had more to do with deck swabbing than spotting evidence of Casanova’s stay!

Returning to Poreč by 5.00pm as promised, we admired the parking/berthing skills of the skipper as we promised ourselves a quick ‘sladoled’ (one of the best words for ice-creams we’ve encountered!) before returning back to camp.

It was a grand day out and we hoped that the olds had a good time too, in spite of the bruises and almost certain hangovers. Let’s hope that we’re still travelling when we’re their age!

J&S.

Camping Polidor - our first stop in Croatia

Ahhh. . . Camping Polidor, our first campsite home in Croatia, and worth its own little entry.

Picked because of its compact size by Mrs B from the plethora of ACSI sites that are scattered along the Istrian coast (there are only 70 touring pitches at Camping Polidor compared to hundreds – and counting, at most of the others). Small is indeed beautiful here, think camping-meets-glamping-meets-boutique hotel.  The high level of care, attention to detail and quality that has gone into designing and developing this family run site is second to none. In addition to the pitches, there are cluster of chalets and ‘glamping’ facilities that sit on the edge of two of the site’s sides and we noticed a number of campers meeting up with friends/ family staying in chalets during our stay.

Ordinarily we’re not overly choosy about where we stay, so long as we like the vibe when we arrive and the facilities are half decent. So, walking the site to choose our pitch, we were pleased to see a mixed layout of fairly standard (and large) open pitches, and then what could best be described as a lovely wooded glade, set with two concentric circles of pitches. The extremely helpful staff at reception had said we could choose between sun and shade, and now we could see why – so, without further ado we chose a large raised pitch in the inner circle, sheltered by trees and providing loads of space with dappled shade.

A proper exploration of the site then delivered one smile after another. The ‘shower block’ was equipped with state of the art washrooms and showers (think sensor operated lights and taps, and tropical rain shower heads in the shower rooms that are guaranteed to keep your clothes dry with their separate glass doors) and vanity rooms with extendable magnifying mirrors and hairdryers. There’s also the cutest kids’ bathroom area too. Everything is maintained to a very high degree of cleanliness (we came to see how with the large, efficient and friendly staff that work here). Downstairs were more discoveries; a modern laundry room, a small gym, a massage room, and a well equipped children’s play area (complete with a great tube-slide between the two floors).

This also has to be the best ‘library’ we’ve seen for campers to swap books they no longer want to keep!

There is also a compact infinity pool (with a bar), a children’s pool and outdoor play area, a large decked area for lounging in the sun (complete with very comfy loungers) and a small restaurant/bar that serves good food at lunch and in the evenings. A mini market (with fresh bread daily) is just outside the site. Another nice touch – if you order bread/pastries from reception before 2100, it will be delivered to your van at 0800 the next day!

The site is a 15/20-minute walk from the sea, where there is also a Polidor beach and bar, with some rather swish arrangements including gazebo-type structures, complete with curtains for shade/privacy. One is even moored out to sea on a small pontoon! The same access road to the beach also lets onto a cycle path that runs north to Poreč (see next entry) and south to the local village of Funtana – both with plenty of shops. Of course, Polidor also does bike hire! 

There’s plenty of wildlife too, and as well as being serenaded at night by what we now know to be Scops owls, we saw a pair of golden orioles swooping across the tree canopy as we cycled for a sunset drink one evening! There are also bee-eaters, kingfishers and hoopoes about, but they saved themselves for another visit…

We often say that the vibe of a site lends itself to the general level of friendliness of fellow campers, and here, this is driven by a combination of the amazing staff who are always cordial, helpful and speak excellent English (as well as being very patient with Mr B’s valiant attempts at learning Hrvatski) as well as the high quality of the facilities, the beautiful surroundings and coastline.

It will come as no surprise that we ended up staying a week, where not only did we have the benefit for a couple of very pleasant nights of drinks and natters with fellow Brit travellers from Hampshire, Mike and Suzy, but we also fetched up alongside the only other home made Iveco camper we’ve seen in mainland Europe! We met the very friendly owners, Klaudia and Jōrg from Langelsheim in Germany, and after admiring one another’s creations, we swapped addresses with the hope of catching up with one another in our own countries, or even on the road!

So, thank you Camping Polidor for a very enjoyable stay and a high quality experience – at €17 a night on ACSI, there’s every chance we’ll be back, as it’s a great base for exploring the Istrian peninsula!

S&J.

St Tropez to the Istrian peninsular - and points between...

As we set off from Fréjus (near enough to St Tropez to feel the wealth) for Croatia, via northern Italy, the sun came out to bid us farewell and remind us that sun-seeking is a fickle, and largely pointless exercise on a road trip like this! Still, it was pleasant enough to see blue skies and feel the warmth as we headed east along the Autoroute towards the border.

We were looking forward to a number of things in Italy – first amongst which we were soon reminded of, as we hove into the fourth pay station on a not very long stretch of French motorway. Designed, we’re sure, to soften the blow of each transaction and assuming drivers are not keeping a running total in their heads.  As we zoomed across the borderless frontier with Italy, we knew we wouldn’t be pestered with a toll both until we actually got off the Autostrada – a much better model we feel.

As well as the absence of pesky toll-booths to slow us down, we were immediately struck by the high quality of the motorways in northern Italy, compared to our experience in the south and Sicily a couple of years ago. And so with not much to worry about (apart from a rash of very impatient Swiss drivers who make Italians look positively sedate, hanging on our rear bumper and flashing their headlights) we ate up the miles, enjoying the speed with which Croatia was drawing closer.

Lunch saw us pulled up in a very swish parking area, with a grassed and seated terrace overlooking the Med – again in stark contrast to our litter-strewn lay-by stops in the Italian south.

Knowing that we wanted to get the trip from France to Croatia under our belts in no more than a couple of stopovers, we drove on a bit later than usual, safe in the knowledge that with a good dozen ACSI sites clustered around the south end of Lake Garda we’d easily find a piazolla waiting for us…

Maybe it was because we had opted for the smallest site, or just that it’s a very busy destination (the streets of Peschiera del Garda had been thronged with tourists as we headed to ‘Camping Butterfly’) but as we pulled up at the entrance, we were greeted by a friendly security guard, telling us that there was no room at the inn… After a quick burst of Mr B’s idiosyncratic Italian, pleading for even a small space, he relented and stated that there ‘may’ be a very small space left, but that we’d better talk to reception.

Girding our loins for being moved on (our van, after all, is not exactly small) we had a very pleasant exchange in Italian and English with the reception staff who explained that we had better go and look first as the pitch was ‘a space between two houses’. And sure enough, it was! It looked as if we’d just about get the van in, leaving just enough space to open the doors and get out! So, preferring a tight squeeze over an evening campsite-finder challenge, we went back to reception for checking in.

As it’s a while since we’d stopped in Italy, we’d forgotten what a love of paperwork can feel like when you’re tired and waiting to settle down for the night. After handing over both passports, our ACSI card and payment with confirmation that we were only staying for the one night, we received in turn: a page of rules; a map of the site; a sticker for the van; a gate pass (each); a bracelet (each); a receipt for the pitch, and a separate receipt for the tourist tax. We were then released to park up the van and enjoy what was left of the evening.

Our assessment of our ability to squeeze the van in was bang on the money – had we a crane to simply lift us into place. Instead, after a scary five minutes of inching forwards and backwards to get the angle right (during which we were watched in what we took to be a mix of admiration and outright fear by the diners in the restaurant whose terrace we were using as a turning bay), we eventually straightened up in close proximity to our neighbours in their ‘houses’!

Grateful that as we were only stopping overnight, small was indeed beautiful in the case of our new pitch, we wandered off to have a look at the lake. By now the clouds we thought we had left behind had caught us up, so we prayed for better weather the next day so we could take some pictures of what looked to be some very pretty scenery across lake Garda.

After a very peaceful night’s sleep we woke to a blue-ish sky and promise of a good day’s driving. Popping back to the lake to take some pics, we decided that as touristy as Peschiera del Garda clearly was, even this early in the season, lake Garda and its surroundings would be well worth a re-visit.

As we’d broken the back of the distance across Italy in one day, we decided to stop in Trieste just before the Slovenian border, to double check on all the rules for entering and driving in a Euro and Schengen country (Slovenia) and a non-Euro, non Schengen country (Croatia).

After a relatively short drive (compared to the day before) we arrived on the outskirts of Trieste at our selected campsite, Baia Camping near Sistiana, with plenty of time to get registered, choose a pitch on a wooded site that overlooked the bay (there were many!), and take a walk along the very pleasant walking trail adjacent to the site. The walk was well marked, and although we knew we would have to turn round and come back to the site on the same route, we were sure that we would be back to the small gate to the path, before it was locked at seven.

Returning to the gate with half an hour to spare, we were mildly irked to find the gate locked, until we remembered we were in Italy where, like in Spain, times should be taken as broadly indicative, and no more… Still, we had plenty of time to retrace our steps and go the long way round to the front entrance and we arrived at the van with the evening still ahead of us.

Using the extra time wisely, we boned up on the requirements to get across the Italian/Slovenian and Slovenian/Croatian borders, deciding that we didn’t need a vignette in Slovenia, as our HGV classification required us to pay tolls as we went (from which we deduced that we paid nothing unless we used the motorways and that we must join HGV toll queues and pay HGV fees) and that in Croatia, we were looking at a straightforward classification based pay-as-you-go model for motorways only.

As we settled in for the night after doing our homework, we marvelled again at the abundant bird life in mainland Europe, as we were serenaded by birdsong both familiar and new. Drifting into sleep, we were abruptly woken at midnight by another familiar sound of summer, the steady 120bpm bass rhythm of a nearby Italian disco. This we also remembered from our last trip to Italy and reaching for the earplugs, Mrs B snoozed and Mr B played ‘guess the trance track’ until 4.00am, when even the birds seemed to utter a collective sigh of relief!

Waking with gritty eyes at our 8.00am alarm (we’d decided to get an early start) we decamped and set off for a stock-up at a nearby supermarket, as Mrs B’s lasting memories of the former Yugoslavia recalled a need to stock up on fresh veg, as well as her more recent love affair with Italian greenery and a desire to buy any available that you’d be hard pushed to find in the UK, including the delicious agretti (monk’s beard or soapwort) and ciccoria, a relative of dandelion, both in season, and both soon in our shopping bags.

And so, after negotiating our way along the coast route around the beautiful Trieste and towards the border, we looked forward to putting our border-prep homework to the test. Well, it all seemed so simple in the planning, and sure enough, we drove across the Slovenian border unchallenged. And what a beautiful, densely wooded and well-kept country Slovenia is. More than a little embarrassed that we were just using it as a transit route on this occasion, we determined to learn more and maybe stop off on the way back.

After only 45 minutes or so (taking the free, non-Motorway route) we arrived at border control. As we pulled up to the queue of cars and campervans waiting to enter Croatia, Mr B decided to deploy his knowledge of driving in Slovenia to drive down the (empty) lane under a picture of a bus, drawing some startled glares from queuing motorists, and stern if bemused looks from the border guards as we waited patiently to be treated as the HGV we were. Some very clear signals from the guards soon had us reversing back up the queue to join it at the back, this time drawing amused looks from our fellow motorists!

Fortunately, by the time we eventually got to the passport control booth, the guards had changed and we were waved through without the need to explain why we had undertaken such an odd manoeuvre!

Driving across the border and heading for the Istrian coast, the very well maintained roads of Slovenia were replaced with more rustic versions, although the beautiful countryside continued all the way to the coast. Stopping only to withdraw some Croatian Kune from a cash machine, and taking a quick walk around a nearby supermarket to marvel and the amazingly low prices, we arrived at our first destination in Croatia, Camping Polidor, bathed in bright sunlight and nestling in woods on the Dalmation coast under a brilliant blue sky – we’d not only made it but the weather had clearly been waiting for us!

S&J.

Switzerland to St Tropez - Have we got lost?

Driving to Croatia from western Switzerland via the Cote D’Azur may not look like the most logical route, if your style of travelling assumes the shortest, cheapest and most direct route from A to B. For us, however, one of the fun things about camper-vanning is the ability to throw logic out the window and run with an impulse for a bit. So, after a not overly sun-drenched first week of travel, and loving France as much as we do, we left Neuchâtel in a south westerly direction heading for the Rhône valley and onwards to the Med.

With the weather forecast super accurate, we set off in heavy rain and stayed that way until well after we had crossed the Swiss/French frontier near Geneva, avoiding toll roads and driving at a leisurely pace, knowing that the sun would grace us with its presence before long…

And so it did, after a fashion, as we pulled into an Aire (free) at Reventin-Vaugris just south of Vienne.

In common with lots of these French Aires, it was tucked away in the village near a boulangerie promising a morning croissant, and not far from the small church. Always a risk, churches, as they will sometimes have bells that will ring all night – and often on the half hour for anyone stupid enough to think they could grab some kip in the intervening 59 minutes. Yes, you’ve guessed it, this stop was blessed with bells every 30 minutes… And as Mr B is still to develop a love of campanology, he had a restless night instead, whilst Mrs B remained blissfully oblivious!

You can see the offending church in the next pic – one of a series we hope to do this trip that will be in the style of ‘what we can see out of the van window today’ – a sure way to capture the mixed bag that overnight stops can deliver!

The symbolism of the tractor mural was lost on us – and as the next day was a public holiday, not only was the boulangerie closed, but, there was literally no-one about to ask!

And so we left Reventin-Vaugris in warm weather and broken cloud to continue our journey to the coast. Before we set off for a drive, we always have a quick tactics talk about the best route/ where we might want to stop off and explore etc. We decided to avoid the autoroute, which would have put us on the coast easily in one hop, and decided to take a slower and more interesting route instead. The route looked to be peppered with plenty of Aires so we drove on, looking forward to being spoilt for choice…

Our journey turned out to be much slower than we had anticipated though, as we encountered more ‘route barées’ and diversions than ever before, and having left an area with plenty of Aires after a late afternoon stop for tea, (we decided it was too early to stop) we realised that our choice was getting limited and that we would be arriving a bit later than we would normally choose (ie, close to darkness!). Using our trusty guide, however, we decided to try an Aire that had once been a municipal campsite in the spa town of Greoux-les-Bains – described as ‘shaded and pleasantly terraced’.  Hmm… Now, we’re not exactly choosey, but not only were the vans parked up more closely than a motorhome dealer’s forecourt, but the Aire was full…

Not to be put off by the one-way barrier we were now stuck in front of, Mr B decided to put the van’s famously good turning circle to a proper test. Unfortunately, this also involved reversing into an overhanging (substantial) branch of a tree that he had successfully avoided the trunk of – resulting in a cracked awning casing and a now jauntily angled WiFi aerial bracket…

Undeterred, and with darkness falling, we headed off to our ‘plan B’ stop – another 30 minutes drive into the hills to a lake-side stop at Ste-Croix-de-Verdon. Fearing that this might also be full, we were pleasantly surprised to arrive, along with the last of the daylight, to find the Aire half empty and a cracking spot overlooking the lake just waiting for us!

After a very quiet night’s sleep and with a bright blue sky to welcome the day, we looked out of the van’s window and were amazed by the breathtaking view that opened out before us.

Not only had we fetched up at a gorgeous location, a quick inspection of the awning casing revealed that no damage appeared to have been done to the moving bits – just the end casings – something that would need to be tested once we had arrived somewhere we could wind it out.  

After a quick walk along the path that led from the Aire to the small village, we decided that this would definitely be somewhere worth returning in the future – an observation confirmed on the drive south to the coast.

We had really enjoyed Provence a couple of years ago on our way to Sicily, and as we drove though fabulous fields of lavender under a hot sun and blue sky, it wasn’t hard to remember why. And, to add to the joy, a quick glance at our ACSI discount camping App revealed a good few campsites on the coast to choose from. Deciding it would be good to have somewhere close to the beach and with easy cycling, we plumped for Plage d’Argens near Fréjus. Arriving with enough time to enjoy a walk on the beach and a couple of hours lazing in the sun, we retired to bed looking forward to a few days of soaking up that Med sun before heading to Croatia, the long way round…

Unfortunately, whichever of the deities had been sorting our weather out for this trip clearly had a sense of humour, as the day broke with no sign of the sun and a forecast of rain and strong winds to come the next day…  So, deciding to make the most of the fact it hadn’t started raining yet, we cycled off to the nearby town of Fréjus, making full use of the cycle path that ran alongside the (busy) main road, having also got a load of washing sorted at last.

The town was pretty typical of many in this area – very developed in a sort of stylish way, throbbing to the sound of Harley Davidsons, and complete with a quirky take on old and new values…

Deciding to take the awning in (having been delighted that it still worked!) after seeing a forecast for 45mph winds in the night, we were serenaded in the first part of the (windless) night by an animal we have encountered across Europe but failed to identify (possibly a bird or amphibian with a distinctive ringing call), and in the second part by the roaring of the wind and the gentle rocking of the van…

Dawn brought with it no sign of a change in the weather (and plenty of evidence of hurriedly stowed awnings in the night) and so, beginning to wonder what we had done to offend the weather gods, we set off for Croatia, this time deciding to use the Autoroutes and Autostrade across the rest of France and northern Italy. Surely the sun will be shining somewhere…?

S&J.

A short(er) stay in Switzerland

Heading off from our brief stopover at Besançon, we pointed the van in the direction of La Suisse – a first for Mr B, and a logical route on to Croatia that would enable us to stop off and see an old friend of Mrs B’s whom she’d met when travelling by campervan in Greece 38 years ago!

Driving in Switzerland in a vehicle over 3.5 tonnes puts us into the HGV category, meaning that rather than being obliged to purchase an annual vignette valid for cars and smaller vans (a relatively simple process) at the border, we needed to fill out a form for a shorter, 10-day travel pass for an HGV.  We needn’t have worried though, as the charming, designer-bearded young border guard, amused by my struggling French, very kindly offered in English, to fill out the detailed form with us, ending in a Swiss Franc fee of CHF32.50 that enabled us to drive on Swiss roads for up to 10 days, of our choice, and by our own recording. And of course, as this is a country that for owners of two or more vehicles, you only need one number plate/ tax and insurance, on the logical basis that you can only be driving one at a time, we simply needed to declare days that we were using the roads. So, our four-day visit only needed us to use up two days, as we were camping and stationary for two, leaving us eight to use by a year’s time! Given that this fee also includes driving on any roads, including motorways and tunnels, we decided it represented very good value indeed!

Entering Switzerland near Le Locle in the French-speaking Canton of Neuchâtel, we camped up at the mediaeval village of Le Landeron, near lake Bienne and a short ride by train into the town of Neuchâtel to see Mrs B’s friend Pat. Much to our surprise and delight, we were informed by the very helpful woman on reception that we would be issued with a free public transport pass for the whole Canton, something we made full use of, and that enabled us to leave the van as we travelled about. This was included in our ‘tax de sejour’ (tourist tax), which although slightly higher than we are used to paying in France, at CHF2 each per day, seemed a pretty good deal all round as it covered trains, buses and any funiculars in the Canton that took our fancy.

And so with some trepidation at using a public transport network we were both new to, we set off in the early evening of our first day in Switzerland by train to meet Pat. Knowing that the Swiss state recognises four languages officially, French, German, Italian and Romansch, we were surprised to see that apart from the banknotes, our experience was driven by the particular Canton – so we saw French, German and English – making getting about pretty easy. And this being Switzerland, the trains were very punctual as well as spotlessly clean!

After a great evening learning more about Switzerland and experiencing classic Swiss cuisine and drinks with Pat, we managed to get the last train back to the campsite, marvelling once more at the contrast between public transport in the UK and mainland Europe.

The next day saw a fabulous blue sky and the promise of a walk with Pat to see some of the local sights.

And so we set off for a walk along the shore of lake Bienne, first having a wander around the fabulous little mediavel town of La Neuveville, before stopping for lunch in Liguerz, in the next Canton, at one of the many small vineyards that hug the north shore of the lake. Whilst we were prepared for some of the more obvious sights of picture postcard houses with steep roofs, perched on the hillsides, we weren’t expecting the rather clever aerial cat walkway up the side of this house!

Lunch proved to be interesting on a number of levels – the fabulous ‘eye of the partridge’ local rosé wine, and a dip into some schoolboy German (we’d walked across the border into the next Canton) and – totally unexpected, a natter in Spanish with the owner’s wife who hailed from Argentina! They recommended visiting the local viewpoint for views to the Alps, and as we wandered towards the start on the climb, Pat spotted that the funicular railway car was about to leave and so we hopped aboard – marvelling again at public transport in Switzerland, as the carriages climbed up to the village of Préles. Here, we were able to enjoy incredible views across the lake to the Alps, with an orientation table pointing out no less than the north face of the Eiger! The photo doesn’t really do justice to the clarity with which we could make out different peaks, pretty much across our whole field of view. With more weather like this, we decided we could quite easily stay for a few days exploring the eastern end of Switzerland and the towns along the way!

On the way down, we hopped off at a beautiful little village church to admire the views again.

Our walk back took us through the vineyards, most of them what could be described as smallholdings, and all of them very neatly maintained, with more fabulous views across the vines to the lake and the Alps beyond.

Saying our farewells to Pat after what turned out to be a very pleasant 11 mile yomp through some truly spectacular scenery, we settled in for the night and scanned the weather forecast for the next few days, hoping to explore more of the eastern end of the country before heading over the border into Italy and on to Croatia. The weather gods were not looking kindly on us though, and we looked to be heading into the edge of a pretty wet and miserable cold front, with lashings of storm warnings and rain…

Determined to see at least a bit more of Neuchâtel before we headed off, we decided to visit the old town and the ‘famous’ museum at ‘Latenium’ on the shores of lake Neuchâtel. Whether this museum is internationally famous, or Mr B’s fascination with Professor Alice Roberts and things Celtish had elevated it to such status, it was on the itinerary for our penultimate day.

Bad luck for us, the weather forecast was accurate and we headed off on the train to Neuchâtel in rain and under lowering skies. After a brief and wet traipse through the old town to admire the chateau, we decided to get a bite to eat and hop on the tram to Latenium.

The museum was very well laid out and informative, with an incredible 2^nd Century AD Roman transport boat and Roman and Celtish artefacts aplenty. However, the golden Celtic ‘torc’ that Mr B was sure Prof Alice had waxed lyrical about being discovered in the lake was nowhere to be seen, leaving one of us wondering exactly what he had been focussing on…

As we left the museum, we stopped to admire the re-creations of Celtic lake-side living, and started to think carefully about route planning with more of this sort of weather on the horizon.

And, after a night of more heavy rain, and storms forecast for Italy and northern Croatia as well as Switzerland, we decided to cut our stay here short and alter our route to take in a bit of Provence and the Cote d’Azur instead, hoping for a break in the rain and a few days of sunshine.

S&J.

The first leg - across France to Switzerland

As we make the short trip to Newhaven for the 10:30 ferry to Dieppe, we feel thankful that the French run service, so often under threat of closure in the past, remains open, and wonder what a post Brexit future might bring.  We’re leaving, as in the last two years, at a time of continuing political uncertainty, with the French presidential elections next week and our own in June – proxy votes organised of course!

Four hours later, we’re in France and heading southeast, a change of route for us, to drive via Switzerland to visit an old friend en route to Croatia.

We decide to stop in Soissons around 7pm, just in case the small Aire listed in our new guide was full.  It’s on the main route and experience tells us that these types of Aires are often busy, especially on a holiday weekend.  This one didn’t seem to be signposted but we knew it was by the river and we soon found it.  Even better, the four official spaces seem to have expanded into spaces (albeit compact) for around 10 vans and we slotted ourselves in on the end, using our largest ramps to level off.  The Aire is only open between October and May since the area is used as a riverside beach in the summer.

After a very peaceful night’s sleep we had a quick wander along the riverbank to get some air and then headed off towards Reims. Now in the Champagne region, we marvelled at field after field of bright yellow rape, at the same time wondering where all the vineyards were.  There was no-one to ask though, as being a holiday all the Caves were closed. Using our old Rough Guide we decide to stop for a cuppa in Langres, an old fortified town in the Champagne region, which proved to be a highlight. This is one of the great things about travelling the way we do – we didn’t plan on visiting Langres in advance, it just popped out of the pages as a potentially interesting place en route. As it happened, it was sufficiently interesting and camper-van friendly and we decided to stay overnight.

There’s a municipal campsite, an official Aire (busy), and a very benign approach to free camping in the large carparks that surround the town. And so we ended up spending the night below the ramparts.

Encircled by ancient walls and updated by military engineers as recently as 1900, the town was in carnival mood with a visiting fun fair and plenty of visitors. It’s possible to walk the ramparts (about an hour) taking in the impressive military architecture, the commanding views over the countryside, and a restored coach from a disused funicular railway that was used to transport residents from the nearby mainline station up the hill.  There’s even a new nifty little glass funicular to transport residents and visitors from the lower car parks.

Another peaceful night’s sleep was followed by a quick trip back through the town walls to get our first croissants and baguette of the trip, as we’d failed the day before when everywhere was closed for Labour day. This part of our journey never fails to delight – that first munch into a mouth watering and buttery piece of French heaven that is a real croissant, washed down by a freshly brewed coffee! 

Knowing that the rest of our cliché would be fulfilled when we stopped later to buy paté and celeri remoulade, and having checked le meteo on the web, we set off in the expectation of worsening weather as we got closer to Switzerland. Stopping over in Besançon would allow us to take stock of the weather and choose our route across the Alps accordingly. This would be our first campsite stop, at Camping Besançon Plage.

It’s a quirky site, with first impressions of its utilitarian reception and amenities block belied by recently updated facilities inside, good sized pitches (some of which are adjacent to the river) free WiFi, and a cheap ride into the town (€1.40 pp each way) on a new tram service a short walk from the site.

This allowed us to explore the old Citadel of Besançon (a UNESCO world heritage site) for a few hours. Wandering up the hill from the tram towards the Citadel, we saw our first bit of poster politics – very appropriate for a town that hosts an excellent (if harrowing) museum of the resistance and deportations in WW2. The cost for the museum is bundled in the price to get into the Citadel, €10.60pp – well worth it we thought.

The Citadel is famous for its construction and re-vamping under the guidance of the royal engineer Vauban, and it remains an imposing fortress, with spectacular views over the river. It’s possible to walk the ramparts, visit a small aquarium, vivarium and insectarium and admire the odd collection of wildlife (baboons in the moat and Ibis in a cage…) but the real show-stopper is the Resistance and Deportation museum. Many resistance fighters were incarcerated and executed in the Citadel and it also hosts a memorial to them – the four posts representing how fighters were killed by firing squads.

As France faces an election in a few days with one of the candidates representing the far right, the museum is a useful reminder not only of the atrocities of the Nazis, but of the collaboration with them by many French people in the Vichy regime, as well as the guerrilla war conducted by the resistance. Particularly chilling for us, was the part of the museum which explained the rise of Nazism in a period of economic uncertainty, the blaming of ‘others’ creating and stoking fear, and a leader promising a rosy future for the ‘real’ citizens of the state…

The local weather forecast had posted a yellow storm warning for later in the day, and as if on cue, as we left the Citadel the heavens opened. We dodged the worst of it as we caught the tram back and then took refuge in the nearby Carrefour to stock up on some essentials. Returning to the van, Mr B’s earlier comments that he was glad he’d remembered to close the shower/toilet  skylight came back to haunt him, as we surveyed a soaking carpet and open skylight – doh!

As we write this we are about to head off for the Swiss border, wondering if we have fully digested the complex rules and requirements for taking an HGV onto the Swiss road network… our next update will reveal all!

S&J.