Location: Chateau de Regnéville, Regnéville-sur-Mer, Normandy France
I’ll say one thing about writing a blog, it does focus you to read a bit about where you’re passing through. It would be easy to just drift on through these places. Drive-by tourism I think its called.
Take today for instance. We have been continuing to make our way up the north Normandy coast, and stopped for a bit of wander along the cliffs, looking north over the town of Carolles, before parking up for the night next to a castle ruins. Now if i hadn’t been writing this blog, I reckon I could have easily pulled away in the morning learning nothing more than what was on the info board at the castle. All it said really was that it was built in the 12th century, and for the next few centuries was a fighting base for either the French or the English, depending on who was on top at the time.
Google wasn’t much more helpful, on this particular pile of stones, but it did get me down various rabbit holes learning (or perhaps re-learning because I would have been taught this stuff at some stage!) about this little corner of the world that has had such a huge impact on my English heritage.
I didn’t even know (remember from my…yawn…school history) that the word Normandy is derived from the description “Northmen” (or Vikings) who raided down this part of the coast, and eventually settled and inter-married (presumably after the raping and pillaging phase?), then were awarded lands by the French in return for bashing the English a bit.
I guess the most famous bit of English clobbering from this part of the world happening on October 14th 1066 at..yes…the Battle of Hastings. The lovely Mrs A having gone to school there, would have heard our version of that little fisticuffs. Yup…French rule for poor old Blighty, the Norman Conquest as we called it. You’d think we’d have ended up with better food and nicer accents?
Here’s an exam question..if the French speaking nobility who lorded it over the English peasants for the next few hundred years, had forced them to learn their lovely language, what would have been the changes to history we would have seen? Frogs legs and a glass of wine as a Friday night supper, not prawn vindaloo and ten pints of lager? I admit to going down another rabbit hole and reading a whole series of answers to that question. The more you read, the more you realise the less you know. This trip has sure made me realise how woefully ignorant I am!
Location: Dinan, Léhon and Saint-Malo, Brittany, France
We realised we had very little time to explore Brittany and so decided to speed past a good chunk of the region, heading north towards the town of Dinan.
Dinan was created as a strategic town by combining three villages in the 1100s and much of the city from the past five or six hundred years still remains. The old fortified wall is still intact, stretching for 3km around the city and there are several half timbered houses remaining, carefully protected. Unlike Concarneau’s old town, Dinan is still a living city, with more than just provisions for tourists. There are several art studios around, as well as jewellers, sculptors and other crafts.
We parked up in a free motorhome camping area in the nearby village of Léhon, and strolled up to the city. It was fairly peaceful on Saturday lunchtime, with none of the crowds of Concarneau. Crepes (savoury pancakes) are a regional favourite with several restaurants around the town offering them for lunch…all heavily filled with dairy products, not suitable for me.
We decided to stop at a burger joint for lunch, seemingly the only place to offer food I could eat. They also did an interesting French menu. Mr A bravely decided to go for the plât du jour, which the waitress described as ‘like sausage and chips’. It sounded harmless enough, but once Mr A had cut through the ‘sausage’ I could tell it was anything but! He struggled through a single bite, and offered it to me to smell. Utterly disgusting was the answer. We were soon enlightened by a French couple beside us – Mr A was in fact eating (or not eating) Andoilette – pigs intestines and colon. His face was so horrified the waitress took it away and served him up a chicken burger like mine for no extra charge!
We explored the cobbled streets of the town, enjoying the peace and quiet, and incredible views from the city walls, looking down over La Rance River.
The following morning we were in no hurry to rush off, and the sun was shining again after a showery evening, so we got out the bikes and went for a ride. It was Sunday morning and in France this means family day. Most of the shops are closed too, so people head to the countryside for some fresh air.
We found a shared cycle-walking path alongside the Rance River which started just a couple of minutes from where we were parked up. In no time at all we were riding through beautiful scenery calling out ‘bonjour’ to other cyclists, walkers and joggers as we headed towards Dinan marina and beyond. There is something so lovely about connecting with another human with not much more than just a smile and bidding one another ‘good day’ transcending all differences. This is something that is really missing in towns and cities when often people don’t even look at each other, and frequently are more focused on their phones than what is going on around them. I think people would be shocked in London or Sydney if I went around saying ‘good day’ to strangers!
We rode along through the port of Dinan, past people enjoying their crepes and coffees, yachts moored up for a day of exploring.
We rode as far as possible along the river until the path petered out by a railway bridge. Down here it seemed time had stood still for decades, with old fishing huts teetering on rotting planks and poles that nobody dare cross onto or repair. They look like strange sculptures hanging over the water.
We rode back to the village of Léhon following a path on the other side of the river. Léhon itself is well worth a visit, with its 12th century abbey and very pretty cottages.
We even found an interestingly named restaurant – La Marmite de l’Abbaye…no Marmite on the menu though, sadly!
(Incidentally ‘marmite’ means cooking pot in French, not referring to the salty brewers yeast you spread on toast!)…
After a light lunch back at Truffy, we jumped back on the road, heading towards the coast and the town of Saint-Malo.
Saint-Malo sits on a strategically important location, with a settlement having been there since Roman times (around 1 BCE). After being the home of Saxons and people escaping troubles in England, it was inhabited by monks in the 6th century and became known as Saint-Malo.
During the Middle Ages the walled city became a stronghold for pirates, known as privateers (officially employed by the king of France). It became a very wealthy city from all the loot captured from around the world, and from (mostly English) ships which were forced to pay a ‘tribute’ for passing up the English Channel in safety.
Despite its history, Saint-Malo looks fairly modern today. This is due to the post World War II rebuilding that took place in the 1950s and 60s, using original stone but more modern techniques. It is also a city with money – attracting more than 7.6 million visitors per year with an average of 78,000 visitors a day.
The city was certainly bustling on this Sunday afternoon, with the cobbled pedestrianised roadways full of boutiques, jewellers and restaurants. There was even a boulangerie open for business. Mr A popped in to purchase a Kouign-amann, a sugary, buttery layered pasty cake, native to Brittany. He approved, but tells me the weight of it suggests it had quite a few buttery calories!
We avoided the shops and explored the quieter backstreets, finding our way to the city walls. From there we could see for miles across the sandy beaches, past the fort and on the horizon the islands of Jersey, Guernesey and on to the south west of England…okay, so England was in our imaginations only, but it’s only a ferry ride away from Saint-Malo (just under 9 hours to Portsmouth and about £180 one way with a car and two passengers, in case you’re wondering!).
We had a bit more of an explore and I ducked into the cathedral for a quick look. Built in 1146 on the site of an old church from the 6th century, it too has been restored in the past 50 years after WWII bombing damage. The late afternoon sunlight shone in through the stained glass windows and gave a magical light, showering the walls with rainbows. It was a fine conclusion to our visit as we farewelled Saint-Malo and returned to Truffy to find camp for the night.
Having dipped our toe into 7,000 year old history it was time to return to the mere 900 year old historical towns that are more accessible in these parts. Our first stop was Concarneau, a fishing town on the coast. Tuna and sardines are the main business here, and it is France’s third most important fishing port, along with tourism, of course. To some extent it reminded me of my hometown of Hastings in the UK, the smell of fish, salty air and seaweed coupled with the sweetness of ice creams.
We arrived as the Friday morning market was closing up. We were sad to have missed it – it looked to have been huge and pretty good. We managed to buy a couple of things from stall holders before they finished completely and then crossed the bridge into town.
Concarneau is very pretty, particularly when the sun is shining, and the old town almost entirely dedicated to tourism. It has been a while since we have seen rows of souvenirs for sale, gift boxed tuna and sardines, butter biscuits and toffee from Brittany, blue and white painted pottery (probably mass produced in China). In between these shops there were a few nice stores selling more authentic produce, and strangely an amazing smelling spice and tea store. We also found the crowds of people who have been missing from our past few weeks…well, they felt like crowds to us, but apparently French schools go back on Monday so visitor numbers are actually down on the past few weeks!
It wasn’t too hard to escape the crowds, however, stepping a few metres off the main street and up onto the walls. These have been well preserved, and offer fabulous views around the working harbour. Outside of the old city, it feels like an authentic working town. There’s a long distance coastal walk that starts here too, for those with more time.
We had a walk around town, made a few purchases as gifts for friends back in the UK (look out for your white and blue china, folks – ha ha!) before heading off .
We selected another France Passion site for the night, this time just half an hour inland from Concarneau on a peaceful farm. We were greeted by three teenagers in their halting English, keen to show us where to park and give us a tasting of their grandparents’ cider home brew.
Of course we purchased a couple of bottles, it would be rude not to!
Location: Locmariaquer and Carnac, Brittany, France
I went to a secondary school in England that was run by a headmaster who went on to make a better curator of Oxford museum than, in reflection, he did a headmaster of a boys school. I left school with very little passion ignited for learning. However, he did take us a on dig at a Roman villa near my home town, and that did stir an interest in ancient (rather than modern) history.
So when the opportunity presented itself to go and see the earliest known examples of megalithic architecture in Western Europe, I was excited! If you’re not really into that..I’d skip this post!
I’d spent some time over the last couple of days reading up about what the French call “The Carnac alignments”, a collection of megaliths (large stones that have been used to construct a structure or monument, either alone or with other stones) that’s spread over the ancient Breton landscape. Oh the joys of retirement!
Let me attempt to summarise what’s known and what’s not about these structures. There are over 3,000 of these stone megaliths scattered around north-western Brittany. Before radiocarbon dating was introduced in the mid 1970s. archaeologists thought they were raised by the Celts, but they were around 6,000 years out. We now know the structures were cut and moved into place around 7,000 years ago! This makes them the oldest megaliths in Western Europe. As an aside, the oldest in the world are currently understood to be at Gobekli Tepe in Turkey at 11,000 years old. Not heard of it? You wouldn’t be alone there…and yet the relative youngster of Stonehenge (5,019 years) has such strong brand recognition. Cultural politics in archaeology maybe?
So we paid our few euros of an admission fee and had a wander around one of the main sites at Locmariaquer. It was one of those spine tingling moments when you see something that just defies your understanding of the world.
For instance, there sits four large chunks of rock that have been proven from the carvings on each to have once belonged to a single megalith. It weighs over 300 tonnes, and was somehow transported over ten kilometres of rolling hills and across rivers.
Various experiments have been carried out over the years to try and replicate moving large stones to prove it can be done using logs and levers. In one such proof of concept a bunch of students and willing tourists were able to move a 30 tonne stone. But 300 tonnes…not that I can find. Logs just dont work apparently with that weight. And of course there must have been a solution, or it wouldn’t be there. But I think perhaps its as much a mystery as to how a Neolithic society had developed such a complex social structure to engage the huge amount of labour it would have taken, and kept them fed, motivated and organised.
A piece of research published in February this year has at least shed some light on the spread of megalithic structures in Western Europe. The study analysed over 2,400 radio carbon ratings of megalithic structures across Europe and demonstrated that they spread up and down the then coasts of the Atlantic and Mediterranean, presumably from the initiative of a single seafaring culture.
We have still much to understand about how this “cognitive revolution” (as Yuval Harari calls it in his book “Sapiens”) took place. What prompted such a huge acceleration of social and technical competence in a relative short period of time? Homo Sapiens had been pottering around with basic stone tools for nearly 2 million years, then all of a sudden everything changes dramatically. Why? What was the impetus to this rapid development? Intrigued? Well I am…
So we headed off to find a camp for the night and drove along the coast to an oyster farm in the village of Carnac we had seen listed on the France Passion scheme we belong to. Basically you can park up for free in return for tasting their produce.
So we roll up and park up in front of this fabulous view across the bay, and go and buy ourselves two dozen of the local oysters, for the very good price of under €10. Now they were pretty nice, but I have to say Sydney Rock oysters take some beating! Perhaps we just been trained over the years to appreciate that creamy flavour. These were a little saltier, and went well with a crisp Italian white from Le Marche. We’re feeling particularly fortunate tonight to have this new view out of Truffy’s window.
Location: Coulon, Parc regional du Marais Poitevin, and Borgneuf-en-Retz, France
We farewelled the eastern Loire Valley and continued on our way west, heading towards Brittany. We visited the Loire region extensively three years ago, and the memories of the beautiful chateaus and cycleways are still fresh in our memories – we don’t feel the need to renew them quite yet with so many places we have not seen.
After a brief overnight stop to tackle our washing, on Tuesday we arrived in the small town of Coulon, in the Marais Poitevin regional park. The regional park has quite a unique look and feel to it.
Looking at Google Maps you can see a web of waterways criss-crossing the countryside. The regional park stretches across 112,000 hectares all the way down to the coast, but we were here to explore the section around Coulon which comprises of two main areas – the dry marsh (which is used for agriculture) and the wet marsh (known as the ‘Green Venice’) which floods during winter. The park is important for migratory birds and rare wildlife such as the European otter and is France’s second largest wetland.
Five hundred years’ of work has gone into creating and managing this area, with the efforts of monks from five abbeys across the region responsible for the initial creating of the waterways in order to create viable land for farming and agriculture.
After setting up in the municipal campground, we jumped on our bikes for an explore. Coulon clearly does see itself as a Green Venice, with barques (a style of punting) and rowboats lining the waterways, but the tourist numbers on this Tuesday afternoon were not quite filling the capacity.
There is a good network of cycleways around the area, with well marked trails on boardwalks over the marshes and cycle paths off road and along quiet lanes into local villages. We did a short 20km circuit before returning for the night.
The following morning we decided it would be the ideal opportunity to inflate our pack rafts and head out for an explore by water. We launched from just in front of our campsite onto La Sevre Niortaise, the main waterway going through Coulon. But instead of heading into the throng of rowboats and tourists we turned right, and went into the quieter waters upstream, hoping to find some unsuspecting wildlife.
We found an opening in the river bank and set off down it, hoping we would find our way out of the maze at some point, but excited to see what was beyond.
And what a scene awaited us. The waterways are lined with poplars and ash trees, the still waters creating incredible reflections. Moreover, it was only about ten minutes into our paddle that we saw our first otter, swimming along the water’s edge and climbing out to retreat to safety. Our strategy had paid off!
After this magical experience of seeing a rare otter in the wild, we chalked it up as luck, until Mr A cried out again ‘look, is that a cat running along through that field?’. The answer was ‘no’! It was actually another otter bounding along through the grass. Are these things rare or what?
We saw our third and final otter not long after, swimming across the channel in front of us, head held high. It seems we were very fortunate. We excitedly told a local boat guide what we had seen, and he said he very rarely has seen one, let alone three. I guess otters are not used to the stealth like approach of us on a pack raft compared to the chattering of tourists on rowboats or barques.
Over a late lunch we debated whether to stay another night or move on, and settled on the latter. More adventures await us! We hit the road and continued on our journey west, aiming for Brittany, the region of France closest to the south west of England. After our 8km paddle we had worked up a thirst, and thought a wine tasting and stay on a vineyard as part of our France Passion membership might be in order.
It was around 5pm that we pulled up at Martine and Gérard Padiou’s western Loire Valley vineyard ‘Domaine des Priés’. We entered the cellar, as is typical in France, situated below the main house.
Martine welcomed us and offered a degustation from the wide range of wines grown and produced on their property, including the grape typical of the Loire Valley region, grolleau. The name grolleau is derived from the French word for crow, and is said to describe the deep black hue of the grapes.
We purchased a couple of bottles of wine, both very reasonable (the Grolleau Gris at €3.80 and the Abouriou Grolleau at €3.40) and headed off to the vineyard for the night.
There we found ourselves a level parking spot between the rows of grapes and settled down for the night to listen to owls hooting and hunting among the vines.
Saturday: We headed down from the Bourgogne region, dropping several hundred metres to the River Loire Valley, and watched the thermometer rise 16 degrees centigrade to the early 30s. The next few days forecast are even hotter. I suggested we look for some alternative accomodation to our hot tin box with no air conditioning. Given its high season and the Loire valley…we will need some luck.
Meanwhile we have some lovely wines from Sancerre to taste. Catherine had spotted this winery advertising on the France Passion scheme that we belong to where French producers (of wine or cheese, or honey..or pretty much anything!) will let a self contained motorhome park on their property for the night if they sample the goods. Not a bad deal. We arrived at the Eric Louis winery and were parked up with free power and water…sorted…how good is that?
Next it was a quick 30 kilometre bike ride along the Canal Lateral a la Loire, which was built to provide an alternative route for navigation to the unreliable waters of the Loire river.
Then it was a visit to the hilltop village of Sancerre with its multitude of restaurants and wine shops. We soon worked up a thirst for a wine tasting!
This is, for us, one of the delights of travelling in France – to taste the local wines and try to better understand how the varying terroir impacts the flavour (counting both aroma and taste here). In this area, a mix of limestone and flint soils gave us a real long spectrum of flavours to juggle with. We prefer the flintier, more mineral characteristics, but it was good to do a taste check as the Sancerre sav blancs here are top class.
We were made to feel so welcome by Caroline, who thankfully spoke good English, which allowed us to get into a more in depth discussion than our halting French allows. I mentioned to her we were looking for somewhere to stay out of the motorhome and she said the winemaker was just opening up a place for accomodation not far away and called him for us. So we will check it out tomorrow! How’s that for friendly French service?
Sunday: Another glorious day dawned so it was off to explore the other direction down the Loire river.
It was a fabulous cycleway, and we soon had 30km under our belt and arrived at the small town of La Charité-sur-Loire.
We had a quick poke about, admiring a 900 year old UNESCO listed church, but more importantly settled on a lunch venue with a view of the river.
Pizza “sans fromage” (no cheese) for madam and something super cheesy for me, a kind of a creamy penne pasta with a baked top. Apparently called a gratin. Well we did still have to ride back in 36 degrees centigrade in the sun…phew…needed those calories.
We arrived back at Truffy a little hot and bothered but soon packed him up and pottered up to our accomodation for the night, a room in a newly restored house out in the sticks. We were warmly greeted by the host and settled in. We discovered we were sharing the house with other guests, and so had to close our door, and the AC was only in the shared area, so we were stifling. We opened the windows and there were no fly screens so the mossies attacked in force. At one stage during the night we seriously considered moving back into Truff, who was a little miffed I think we had abandoned him at the first sign of another heatwave.
Anyway…all a bit of miscommunication with no ill intent. So a not so good night’s sleep, but a decision made to use the next day as a driving day as it was going to be a another blaster. We just decided…lets go to Brittany!
Location: Morvan Regional Natural Park, Ousoux-en-Morvan, Bourgogne, France
Thursday: When we saw a green patch on the map not far from us we couldn’t resist heading there to visit to hopefully do some hiking. We succeeded in our mission… In fact over the last two days we have walked more than 32 kilometres (or 20 miles in old measurements)….and our legs are feeling it too! These have not been flat kilometres either – we are staying on top of a hill, which means around half a kilometre of ascent and descent each day too!
Morvan Regional Natural Park (RNP) is a designated rural area with a strong identity derived from a rich natural and cultural heritage. The goal of an RNP is to encourage sustainability in development while preserving the natural and cultural environment. It’s a large area, so we picked a random campsite with good reviews and drove on over. It turned out that the village we picked, Ouroux-en-Morvan, is the official centre of the Eurozone (the 19 countries adopting the Euro as legal tender)…not that we saw much evidence of that.
We arrived around lunchtime, and were not long set up when we headed out for a hike. Given my broken toe, we have avoided hiking for the past month and a half , but the pain has now dulled to feeling just like a bruise… we’re not used to hiking!
The scenery is very rural, rolling hills, fields of cattle, corn and hay, forestry evident everywhere. The walking paths are mostly old farm tracks, been around for so many centuries they are even marked on Google Maps.
We hiked over to the Chapel of Banquets, a small church built in the mid 1800s on the grounds of a Château. It had commanding views over the countryside and was a great spot to rest and have a cup of tea.
The circuit walk then proceeded to follow trails through beautiful woodland, across streams and passing via tiny sleepy villages.
We concluded our walk at our campground after 15km (9 miles), where we ordered two plates of fish and chips, enjoyed with a bottle of wine purchased at a cave in our nearby village of Ousoux-en-Morvan. Yes…we combined hiking with wine tasting, not something we do every day!
Friday: After that successful walk, we decided to repeat our efforts the following day. This time the circuit took us down to a reservoir and back up – a 17km hike. The day was even warmer, topping out at 31°C, so the final kilometres uphill were pretty exhausting.
After showers and lots of rehydrating we still managed to go out to dinner in our local village. In the main, Ouroux-en-Morvan looks fairly run down and abandoned, weeds in the gutter and a general feeling of neglect. It was pretty quiet on our visit despite being peak holiday season in Europe, with plenty of room on our campsite for spontaneous visitors. We can imagine it would be fairly bleak during the winter months. That said, our dinner at Le Lion d’Or was delicious, and their excellent reviews well deserved.
We had four courses for €25 (AU$41/£23) plus a carafe of house red (which was really good). Despite dairy being an issue for me, I was able to eat something from every course (other than the local cheeses – this is cow country), including a marvellous poached pear and home made blueberry sorbet. A fabulous end to our visit in the region.
A short drive today heading west through the rolling hills of Burgundy and we arrived at Château de Sully, a castle built in the late 1500s we had seen on the France Passion website that apparently allowed motorhomes to stay for free overnight in their adjacent car park.
We signed up for a tour of the chateau and were pleasantly surprised by the quality content of the English language materials that were offered to support the guide, who delivered in French. The materials were all written in the first person, and as we worked through them realised the author was the current Duchess of Magenta, who owned and still lives in the house with her husband and family. It really brought the whole expedience alive for us. Sometimes these tours can come across as so impersonal. Even I, the Philistine, was engaged.
The chateau had had many notable owners over the years, but what struck me from the Duchess’ account of its history was how love and lust so shapes the story…. Would it be culturally stereotyping to say…’especially in France’? For instance, the chateau was owned for many years by an Irish family, and when the current marquis had dug into how that came to pass she discovered one of the previous Dukes had taken a wife a lot younger than him (say 70 years) and had then required the services of a local doctor (Irish!) to try and keep him…going. Anyway the Duke passed away and the doctor married his young wife! There is a lesson in there somewhere for me…
The current owners of the chateau now have have a financial interest in the quite famous Montrachet winery, and they were offering a tasting of some of their lower end wines. We wren’t impressed enough to buy them, but did splash out on a Chassagne-Montrachet 2014 Grand Cru that had won some prizes. Look forward to sharing that one back in the UK! Put your bids in…
We had spotted a rail trail on our way though the village so as the weather was delivering an unusually sunny day we headed out on the bikes. Such a peaceful ride. There’s something about pottering around in rural France that just slows the heart rate down, and makes you want to sigh with languid contentment. Ahhhhhh…
So this is our third consecutive free night of camping – bless France – we might get our budget back on track after all from Austria and Switzerland! There are of course no facilities – other than sometimes a facility to empty your toilet waste – but a small price to pay (well none in fact) to park up for the night and spend the money we’ve “saved” on wine instead 🙂
Location: Hirtzbach, Alsace, and Pommard, Côte-d’Or, France
Monday morning was cool, grey and drizzling as we departed from Zurich and continued our journey west…or ‘drizzerable’ as Mr A described it. There was again no sign of the magnificent alpine scenery Switzerland is so famous for.
Before long we were back into France and aiming for a little village in Alsace where we were to roughly plan our next couple weeks as we work our way over to Dieppe to catch a ferry across to the UK. First though, we called in at a supermarket for some shopping. I’m ashamed to say it was the absolute highlight of our day!
This was the best supermarket we have seen this whole trip! Not only did they stock all the Asian food ingredients I had on my list (very rare for France!), but Mr A was delighted by the extensive deli offering fresh quiche, pâté, a wide selection of meats and cheeses. We took our time!
And so on to Hirtzbach. When selecting this location we did so because it is on a rail-trail cycle route, and the village sounded picturesque and pretty, winning prizes for its flowers, historical buildings and fruit growing. Sadly in the wet weather it didn’t look as lovely as it could have done and we didnt get the bikes out.
We did have a stroll around the village though.
Along with many colourful houses dating back to the mid-late 1500s, there was a park in which sat one of the last remaining ice-houses in Alsace.
We decided some wine tasting might be in order as we make our way through France, and so made our way across to the Burgundy region come Tuesday morning.
Our night in Hirtzbach was not as peaceful as we would have liked, with the village church bells peeling every hour, and every fifteen minute increment – including all through the night. It was a little bit like sleep torture as you drifted off after the quarter-to bells, only to find yourself waking enough to count the chimes on the hour “Oh, only four o’clock…I can still sleep a bit longer…”. Ugh! If we were residents we would definitely be requesting they stop between 10pm and 7am!
We chose to visit the village of Pommard, not far from Beaune, the ‘capital’ of Burgundy wine country. There we had another free night on the private driveway of a vineyard and tasting room in the middle of the village. This is part of the France Passion scheme we belong to.
We first joined France Passion when we hired a motorhome and travelled through France three years ago, and were so impressed with the scheme, we decided to do it again this year. Once signed up (about AU$50/£27) there are no further costs. The scheme is made up of a range of farms, vineyards, olive groves, castles, mansions and other businesses with some space for self contained motorhomes and a desire to share their wares or services with visitors. For us, its a great opportunity to get off the beaten track and see some areas we would probably neither find nor hear about on our own.
What we especially liked about this location was that there was space for only two motorhomes, making it very private. We were first to arrive, and not long after we had set up a Dutch couple turned up too, and together we went into the tasting room to sample some wine.
‘Our’ vineyard was run by Patrick Virely-Rougeot with wines produced in the Burgundy tradition on just 9 hectares of vineyard. The quality was excellent though, sharing with us samples of Burgundy (Pinot Noir), Pommard, Pommard premier cru and Meursault. We purchased one bottle of premier cru to take back to the UK and share with friends.
We decided to explore the village, with many tempting signs pointing towards tasting rooms leading to firmly locked and closed doors. We were nearly back at Truffy when I spotted the sign I had been looking for: ‘Cave ouvert – degustation’.
We wandered into the courtyard and spotted some cellar doors opening to a dark stairwell leading under the 17th century house. Out popped the head of the sommelier, who grinned and said he’d be back with some glasses, indicating for us to head down the stairs.
The cellars were full of old musty barrels, and about 8 other people – a range of Dutch (speaking English) and French visitors, already ahead of us on the tasting front.
We tried samples of seven wines, starting with white and moving on to red, but I have to say none impressed us any more than the delicious wine where we are staying. We didn’t end up buying any there.
Our final stop for the afternoon was the ‘famous’ winery of Pommard, Chateau Pommard. We popped our head into the very swish reception, all glass and chrome (in stark contrast to the musty rustic cellars) to be told we couldn’t do a tasting until tomorrow morning, and it would be €35 a head (that’s AU$114/ £64 for the two of us!)…we laughed and said we’d be back…with no intention of course. We’d rather spend that money on wine thank you very much!
We finished off our evening cooking up a Thai prawn Panang curry, accompanied by one of our Italian reds, making space in Truffy’s wine cellar for some more French tipples in our future!
Location: Zürich, Switzerland, London, Brighton and Arundel, UK
Thursday: After farewelling Mark, I made my way across Zürich by public transport to the airport, a bus to a nearby train station then two trains which deposited me in good time at Kloten Airport for my flight to the UK. Everything was clean and and efficient, but once at the airport, rather expensive! I Feeling peckish I looked at the menu at one of the bars, only to find a pulled pork sandwich for the Swiss Franc equivalent of AU$42 (about £20!)…I passed and found a slightly more affordable snack at Pret a Manger.
I finally made it to my sister’s house in Brighton around midnight and collapsed into bed.
Friday morning I was on a train again by 9.45am, heading up to London. My first port of call was Piccadilly Circus.
There I met up with three lovely ladies with iSGS I’ve met via the Facebook support group I run. We had a great chat over a light lunch at Bistro Zedel.
After lunch I made my way to Charing Cross Hospital on the other side of London near Hammersmith, where I had a series of awake steroid injections into my airway. It’s an excellent team there, all very caring, and it makes what could be a horrible experience quite bearable! That said, I travelled back to Brighton, exhausted after the procedure for a quiet night with Helen and brother-in-law Stuart.
Saturday: Just by chance, my cousin Elizabeth had been in touch with me and my siblings in the previous month to suggest a family reunion in the nearby West Sussex town of Arundel. I hadn’t seen her, her brother Giles nor their parents, Jill and Roger for more than 20 years! We couldn’t pass up the opportunity, and so I squeezed into the back of Helen and Stu’s car along with my niece and nephew, and off we went.
We met up at the Arundel Wetland Centre, 65 acres of managed wetlands which are home to numerous birds, both native and from around the world, frogs, water voles as well as rare plants and flowers. We were a large group, with our extended family including children bringing us up to 19 visitors ranging from 3 years of age to late 70s. The venue did well to cater for us all, with plenty of information and a Lego trail for the children as well as more details and bird watching hides for the older ones.
We brought along picnics and enjoyed an informative guided electric boat ride around the waterways, learning about the work they do there, the flora and fauna present.
We all had a great reunion, managed to chat at least a little to everyone before finishing the afternoon with ice creams and heading off home. A fabulous day out, and such a treat for me – if I had not have been back for my hospital visit I would not have even been there.
Sunday rolled around so quickly, and Helen and I ran around Brighton doing a few tasks and shopping. We managed to grab a quick lunch on the beach before heading back home, so I could pack and enjoy a final cup of tea before we headed to the airport.
The flight was a little late leaving, which meant travelling back to camp through Zurich was going to be challenging. Thankfully Switzerland has Uber in force, and for a reasonable price a lovely young Kenyan man drove me back to camp by 10.30pm…lovely to be reunited back with Mr A again and to be back on our travels.