Rest and Recuperation

After being discharged from Hospital we spent the R & R time around England. Dal and Renata had vacation time so we packed up the family and headed for the Lakes District in Cumbria near the Scotland border. We camped at Lake Windermere and spent time exploring the surrounding countryside. We visited Grasmere, a picturesque little village where William Wordsworth is buried. The place is tiny but has a magnetic charm. It was a cold Spring day and we warmed ourselves with lunch in a splendid little cafe overlooking the River Rothay. 

We visited the Beatrix Potter Museum at Browness then took the ferry across Lake Windermere to Lakeside where we took the vintage steam train of the Lakeside & Haverthwaite Railway to the old Haverthwaite Station. It is a five kilometre journey along the River Leven Valley through the rural Cumbrian countryside. The trip back across the lake to Browness was under a brooding sky with a freezing wind. 

The next day dawned bright if a little cold and we set off North to Haltwistle in Northumbria for a visit to Hadrian's Wall. This was the northern reach of the Roman Empire. Though much of the infrastructure that Rome built along its 73 mile length is gone there is still quite a bit of the wall intact. We parked at Steel Rigg and walked along the wall path to Sycamore Gap made famous by the Keven Costner movie Robin Hood Prince of Thieves. The path is also part of the Pennine Way, a national trail created in 1965 and sometimes call the backbone of England. We followed the path to Housesteads Roman Fort. Only the bare bones of the fort's foundation still exist but you can see from the barracks ruin and adjoining support buildings that this was a major strategic outpost. The view of the surrounding landscape is spectacular and far reaching. We finished trip with lunch in the warm and cosy Twice Brewed Inn. 

After six weeks of recovery and a trip back to the hospital for a final stress test it was time to continue our Europe adventure. We decided on a shortened trip to just France. 

The Best and Worst of Times

We had every intention of carrying on to the hilltop town of Rocamador. It's one of those amazing places that you see from the air coverage of the Tour de France. Sweeping valley vistas that take your breath away and there perched high on an escarpment a gravity defying Medieval City stands out in cream and pink overlooking the dark winding riband of some ancient river. The battlements could still be peopled with soldiers in chainmail awaiting the next attack. That's Rocamador, though the only invaders now are regular tourists and the odd motorhomer.

Unfortunately the weather closed in and it started raining heavily. We decided it would be much better to return here and continue our travels along the Lot on our way back from Spain. Little did we know that was never going to happen. We headed South and our first stop was Toulouse.

This is now the techno hub of France with the Airbus Factory just north of town. It also houses a division of the European Space Centre. But there are much older things to marvel at. The Jacobins Church has the most amazing interior. All the columns appear to be palm trees. They meet the ceiling where the supporting domes are styled like palm fronds. The old city is also quite beautiful with a huge central square and lots of narrow streets that are now mainly pedestrian areas. But many were being dug up to replace the old drainage and the place was noisy, barricaded and the repair job consisted of using bitumen to replace the beautiful cobble stones they had torn up, Very UnFrench. Maybe they are going to fix it later, but the norm here is to carefully remove the old stones, store them somewhere, do a great job then replace the original stone so there is virtually no evidence the street was repaired. Although the European economy the way it is I guess cheep and cheerful just has to do.

The next stop was Lourdes, a rather unimposing town that lives off the Miracle of Bernadette. This is Assisi on steroids. Every Street and alleyway that leads to the Grotto is awash with shops festooned with the gaudiest souvenirs and cheep religious trinkets you can imagine. Fortunately the trash ends at the park the Grotto and Church is located in. The park is manicured and paved and brand new as most of this was washed away in the floods two years ago when we were in Andorra. Here you only have to pay for the candles – small, medium and telegraph poles. Its like the Medieval Pilgrim Trail never ended. The entire economy of Lourdes revolves around the Grotto. No wonder the local council pulled out all stops to repair the flood damage. Maybe Toulouse could suddenly find some Saint's bones among the street repairs.

The rain was coming and we were going, over the mountains and into Spain. Well under the mountains to be more precise, 13 kilometres under the Pyrenees through the Somport Tunnel. It's a great way to get from France to Spain, except for the bit where you wind your way up the valley of the Gave d'Aspe. I don't think I've seen so many “Beware of Falling Rock” signs in one place in my life. I lost count of the bits of road that had been realigned because the old bits were somewhere down there. There is a train line here as well, that is no longer in use. Can you guess why? A train derailed and destroyed one of the bridges. You were going to say rock slide weren't you. It use to be the mainline into Spain but was closed down in the 70s.  The French decided it was uneconomical and left it to deteriorate to the point where now most of it is overgrow or sections removed to accommodate the realignment of the road. Although we saw section being worked on. The old tracks and sleepers had been removed and it looked like they were turning it into a Voie Vert or Green Track. These walking/bicycling trails are all over France now. Usually they are tow paths along the many canals that snake along the inland river systems but in some place old disused railway lines.

On the Spanish side is the Canfranc station. This is an outstanding piece of architecture that was built in the early part of last century. It was the main terminus and border post into Spain and in its heyday was a thriving hub for travellers of every kind. It housed the border post, hotels, restaurants, cafes, rail company officials as well as a rail yard for trains heading for inland Spanish cities. It had deteriorated badly during the decades after the line was closed but now there are plans to renovate it and turn it into a hotel and resort although it may take some time given the state of the Spanish economy.

The other side of the mountains was greener but no drier. Pissing down barely covers it. The roads were much better though for a while we even had motorway and then it just stopped. There were beautiful wide lanes, astonishing viaduct over deep valleys, huge cuttings through hillsides then nothing, zip nada. The Road just stopped abruptly and we diverted onto the old road, emphasis on the old It reminded me of the poor Spanish roads of the 70s. Another sign of the Eurodream hitting the hard wall of reality. Unfortunately Spain seems to be one of the Crash Test Dummies of the EU's Brave New (Gan)Grene World.

We reached Pamplona in the gloom and stayed in an Aire by the local Sports Centre, just out of town. The rain didn't let up and the next morning we decided to give city of San Fermin the miss. The Taurian descendants will just have to do it without me. We headed south skirting the Navarre Mountains and the scenery in another century or even another decade would have been breathtaking but is now marred by grotesque giant pinwheels standing tall and white along every ridge and mountaintop like candle offerings the new Church of United Rent Seeking Ecozelots or C.U.R.S.E, which is exactly what they are on the land. This area is called the Badlands, seems a perfect description.

Under sunny skies we arrived a Zaragoza and stayed just two nights with a day wandering around the city. Its an ancient city but one that lacks the flair of Barcelona or the charm of Seville. It does however have some of the most beautiful modern suburbs I have seen anywhere in Europe or the rest of the world for that matter. The streets are wide and tree lined with parks and play areas. The houses are beautifully proportioned and even the townhouses and low rise apartments blend into the overall design. This is a lesson in medium density housing that many cities could copy.

We found our way to the mountain top village of Albarracin, pronounced al-bar-athin. The Al at the beginning is the giveaway, this being a Moorish fortress town that was later Christianised. The town occupies the side of mountain with the river running around most of it. The streets zig-zag up to a small main plaza and from there narrow laneways radiate out in all directions. We sat and enjoyed cafe con leche and tapas in the Plaza then wandered the sloping streets and steep interconnecting stairways. The next day we climbed beyond the city to the fortress walls. High above on the battlements you can see the city below and off in the distance the valley stretches out green and verdant to a distant point where forest and sky blend into one.

The weather had now changed for the better and we decided to head for the coast. We passed by Valencia and found the uncrowded little resort town of Cullera. Our first day there we wandered almost deserted streets and most of the bars and shops along the beach promenade were closed. So were most of the apartments. We found a welcoming cafe that served great coffee and even better pizza. We lapped it up. The next day was the complete opposite. We had arrived on the Thursday before a long weekend holiday and the place was packed. Everything that had been closed was open and going crazy. The beach was packed, the bars were overflowing and the restaurants and cafes were full. The place was crazy for the whole weekend. We enjoyed every minute. The music and partying went on until the early hours. There might be a recession here but the Spanish really know how to enjoy a long weekend.

We were so happy here and looking forward to heading down the coast to Alicante when disaster struck. I had been exhausted after we climbed to the battlements at Albarracin and on Monday morning I started to have chest pains. A very familiar pain that I hadn't had for nearly 10 years. This was serious. My wrists were stinging and knew that I was in real trouble. We decided to head back to London straight away.

We drove all the way from Cullera to Bordeaux in France that day and while there used the internet to book a crossing via the Eurotunnel late the next day. We drove from there to Calais and got onto an earlier train but still didn't get to the Canterbury Park and Ride Aire before the barriers locked at 9:30pm. We headed for London and arrived at Dal's place just before midnight. We had rung him from Spain the day before and told him our plans. I didn't make it through the night before the pain got worse. By 5am I was in an Ambulance under blue light and on my way to the Accident & Emergency at Northwick Park Hospital.

On the Saturday morning they performed an angiogram and place a stent into one of my coronary arteries. I can't praise the staff of the NHS hospital system enough. From the Ambulance Paramedics, the A&E, the HSU, the Drayton Ward Staff to the Coronary Care Staff of St Marks I thank you all. Thank you to Will, Jose, Voltaire, Charmaine, Nikki, Sandra, Raj, Pablo, Sinead, Carol, Dr Spiro, Dr, Shaw and all the others who were just as important but whose names I have sadly forgotten. Without their care, dedication and professionalism I probably wouldn't be writing this blog post right now.

Rivers Of Time

We left the Loire and headed across the heart of France.

The rolling plains gave way to the forested uplands of the Limousine. The fields gave way to the forests and we started to climb into the river systems of the Central Massif and the area know as The Perigord. It was a long day's drive and we finally arrived at the small village of Montignac on the banks if the Vezére.

This place would have remained obscure and forgotten but for the misadventures of a dog named Rocket. His owner Marcel rescued him from a sinkhole, which are common in the area. On closer inspection he and three of his mates discovered the now famous prehistoric cave paintings of Lascaux. That was back in 1940 and since then more caves and caverns have been discovered in the area. This is the Dordogne Valley and the entire area is littered with sites that stretch back in time some 25,000 years.

The original cave has been closed since the 1963 after the growth of mould on the paintings was found to be caused by the people visiting the site. The French government deemed the site so significant that they spent ten years to build an exact replica of the two most significant halls in the original cave. Lascaux II is not far away from the original and is breathtaking in its vivid depiction of fauna that existed 18 millennia ago. Figures outlined in black and coloured with red and ochre prance across the walls. The images are startling in their accuracy and the uncanny perception of motion. The tour of the cave is short and sweet and unfortunately you can't take photos, but you are down there long enough to take it all in and be awed at its presence.

We left Montignac and headed down the Vezére. We stopped at Le Thot, a sort of annex to Lescaux II where they have a small zoo of animals that are related to those on the walls. There are bison, horses and reindeer wandering in paddocks - it's mainly for school-kids, but the exhibit inside the small museum is enlightening. Life size dioramas depict life and the processes used by prehistoric man to create the tools, mediums and techniques to create the cave art. But the most outstanding feature of this museum are two sections of the walls of Lascaux that have been reproduced and with the aide of UV light the entire scope of the gallery can be revealed. Underneath the dominant bovine images there are previous drawings that cannot be seem. A herd of horses prance, and rear and gallop its way across the rock face. Beneath another reindeer graze. Even more enigmatic is that none of these animals were found anywhere near this area.

We continued downstream until we reached Le Roque St Christophe. The limestone cliffs skirt the river here and high up within the face of the cliff is a natural recess, like some ancient giant took a stick and gouged out a gash hundreds of metres long. Neolithic cave dwellers made their homes here high above the river and in later times a fortified Medieval town occupied every nook and cranny of the cliff. The entire length of Le Roque faces south and is bathed in sunshine all day. From this rocky vantage point the view across the valley is spectacular.

We stayed the night in the quaint little village of Le Bugue right by the Vezére. We walked into town along the river bank until we reach the paved quayside and stairs beside the bridge that led to the centre of the bustling little town. After wandering around we sat in the sun and had a cool drink in a bar by the bridge. We left the next morning and finally reached the confluence of the Vezére and the Dordogne at the beautiful town of Limeuil. This was once an important port town before the advent of more modern transport. Boats have been shipping cargo along this river since the Neolithic and Limeuil has been an important port since then. This is no tourist trap with gaudy souvenirs festooning every doorway despite it being listed as one of the Most Beautiful Villages in France. Working folk still live here and there is a pride in self, work and village that exudes not just from Limeuil but every village and town we visit in France. It's on display with every friendly Bonjour, every display of produce in every village and town market and the neatness and cleanliness of every village and town, not just the 'Plus Beau Villages'.

Limeuil is beautiful and the jewel in the crown are the panoramic gardens at the heights of the town overlooking the confluence of two ancient rivers. It's not a large garden or one that is organised geometrically. It just meanders across the top of the ancient limestone outcrop. It's covered in lawn interspersed with tall trees so you walk through sunny gardens that are linked by shady nook and avenues. The predominant feature is that of flora that has been and still are used by man. There are culinary herbs, spices and vegetables, medicinal herbs and flowers, flowers and plants used for dies, flowers and plants used for perfume and incense and medicinal herbs and plants. It's a wonderful walk through a fragrant garden all the way up to an open space at the highest point that overlooks the two rivers below. The final stretch back to the Chateau and exit is via a long tree covered avenue along the cliff face, from here you can look out over the lush Vezére Valley.

Our next stop was the small village of Vézac. It lies between two rival towns. A short walk from our campground was the imposing visage of Chateau de Beynac et Cazenac, which along with the town clings to the almost sheer cliff with a thin strip of land between the lower town and the river's edge.

The village and Chateau is typical of the fortified towns along this stretch of the Dordogne, the town built hard against the limestone cliffs with barely enough land by the river banks for a road. Here they build up the face of the cliff with the fortified Chateau on the highest point. The streets wind and zig-zag up to the heights with every building clinging precariously to almost sheer walls. The most important feature of all the towns along the river is the quay by the river. Boats have been the primary form of transport here since the Neolithic and maybe even earlier.

Beynac's rival is just a little down river on the opposite bank. Castelnaud la Chapelle in some way is more impressive. It sits at the confluence of the Céau and the Dordogne and there is much more land for the town to spread out by the riverside. The Chateau is very imposing and has been turned into a Medieval War Museum. We drove to the upper carpark which is also an Aire with dedicated parking for Motorhomes along with toilet and fresh water. The walk up from the village below is a killer. The upper town, as well as the lower, is beautifully preserved in its original state and the Chateau is outstanding. The exhibits and audio visuals are well set out as you wind your way up to the keep and battlements then back down to the kitchen and servants quarters. Every window is the frame of a real life landscape of outstanding beauty, painted with fifty shades of green. The dark thread of an ancient river weaves its way past lichen stained cliffs that tower over the valley and on strategic points villages protected by fortified castles of cream and salmon seem carved from the prehistoric stone.

We continued on past La Roque-Gageac a single line of houses that are trapped between the rock and the river, it's another 'Plus Beau Village' that was one of the major port of the Upper Dordogne. We crossed the river and headed up to the Bastide town of Domme. Bastides are French Medieval Fortified Towns, usually built with a square plan. Domme differs slightly in that it has a trapezoid shape due to the ridge top terrain. It is another 'Plus Beau Village' that is virtually intact. It is a beautiful town but its claim to fame is that the Knights Templar were imprisoned here during their trial. It has had a turbulent history, alternatively being held by French, English then French again, then being Catholic, Protestant then Catholic again. All this - 'Its' Mine, No Its' Mine, No It's' Not Its' Mine' - ended in the 17^th century and the place declined, which has ensured it survived pretty much intact in its Medieval form until now.

Our last stop along the Dordogne was the regional centre Sarlat-la-Canéda. This is not a 'Plus Beau Village' but it probably should be. History has totally bypassed this 14^th century town and it is a pleasure wandering around the largely traffic free streets. This is the centre for Fois Gras and Dordogne wines. The narrow streets seem to have 'cave à vin' and 'degustation' signs hanging outside every other shop front. We bought some of the local fare as a present for Dal and Renata from a little shop run by an Aussie. His mum is French and he has dual citizenship. It was nice to hear a familiar voice.

The weather was turning fowl and we decided to head south and find some sunshine.

Islands In The Stream

Islands and streams seem to be the dominant feature of our trip so far.

We left the Ile de Australie, transited on the Ile de Hong Kong and landed on Ile de Grande Bretenage. Our first stop in Europe was on Ile de Tros Roi – the island of the three kings, which sits in the Seine River beside the ancient village of Les Anderly in Upper Normandy. Our campsite was overlooked by the brooding ruins of the Chateau Gaillard, once home to Richard the Lionheart. Just along the towpath was the old riverside town with its charming narrow streets and docks. The prosperous cargoes of old have been replaced by the prosperous tourists disembarking from the regular river cruise tours. The old town is beautiful and we were lucky enough to see it without the day trippers although the grey skies, drizzling rain and barely above zero temperature gave it an eerie appearance and feel.

We headed up stream until we reached the River Oise, a tributary of the Seine, where we detoured to Auvers. It's just a fading outer suburb of Paris now but in the late 19^th century it was rural countryside and home to a new school of art that would eventually be know as Impressionism. It was the home of Cézanne, Daubigny, Pissarro and its most tragic resident Vincent van Gogh. It provided the pastoral settings and environs for his last 70 paintings, which he produced in 70 days. Auvers sur Oise is the last resting place of Vincent.

A short trip across one of the Seine meanders brought us to the outskirts of Paris, the affluent suburb of Maisons Lafitte and our next stop on the Ile de la Commune. The island is half camping ground and half sporting complex. A ten minute walk to the station and a twenty minute train trip brought us to the heart of Paris. We only stayed two day as the weather was very cold and overcast. The temperature failed to reach double figures and the sky remained fifty shades of grey with pinprick rain and bitting winds. Spring is late again for the third year in a row.

Even in the gloom this place is beautiful.

The cold drove us south to another river, the Loire. We stayed in Samur on the Ile d'Offard nestling in the middle of the river. Across the ancient stone bridge to the South the Chateau de Samur, perched high on a rocky outcrop, dominated the view. The old town on one side the new just across the bridge to the North. We awoke to a glorious day with clear blue sky and the temperature climbing steadily and wandered around the old town. It was still cold in the shadowy narrow streets and laneway so we found a cafe in the sun on the main street and sat for a while warming our bones.

We left the next day for Tours and along the way stopped at Chateau Villandry. This is one of the jewels of the Loire with its beautiful formal gardens. We toured the chateau and were very surprised that unlike many of these stately castles this one had none of the garish décor or outlandish use of gold leaf. This was a home of wealth but one that felt lived in, very impressive. The gardens on the other hand are a work of art. They are compact yet well laid out with elegant design along with the practicality of incorporating a large vegetable garden and fruit bearing trees. With the surrounding forest suppling game and timber it was a sustainable lifestyle without a tree hugger in sight. Now that's my kinda green.

We stayed at St Avertin on the River Cher as Tours is at the confluence of it and the Loire. The tour of Tours was short and uninspiring. The place was quite a disappointment really even the old town was below par for this part of France. Most of it was being torn up with roadworks. The din of jackhammers and bobcats reverberating around the tiny streets was ear splitting. The weather was the only saving grace. We sat outside in brilliant sunshine in t-shirts and soaked up the warmth.

The Chateau de Chenonceau was our next stop. We came here back in the 70s but the memory of it has faded with time. This is a beautiful castle and almost unique in the world for being built on a bridge in the middle of the Cher. It is know more widely as the Chateau des Dames – the Castle of Women. Five famous women throughout its history nurtured it, expanded it, maintained and enhanced its gardens and even saved it from the ravages of the Revolution. Now that's real women's lib. This is one of the 'must see' Chateaus of the Loire Valley.

We left castle in the river and headed for Amboise, another place that brings back distant memories. We camped on the Ile d'Or, the Island of Gold in the middle of the Loire River. From here the Chateau Royal towers above the city. It was from here in 1516 that King Francis 1st invited Leonardo da Vinci to spent the last three years of his life. He crossed the Alps on a donkey with two companions and brought with him three of his most famous paintings, The Mona Lisa, John the Baptist and The Madonna & Child with St Anne. It is in the Chapel of St Huber, perched high on the battlements of the castle, that Leonardo's last resting place can be found. He died not far away in the Manior du Cloux (now called Clos Lucé) on the 2^nd May 1519. 

Clos Lucé was the home of da Vinci while he stayed in Amboise. Francis gave him the manor house, a generous stipend and the title of “first painter, engineer and king's architect”. He lived and worked at the manor, which is a short stroll from the Chateau Royal, until his death. The house can be visited including the basement which is now a museum of da Vinci's machines along with the manor's huge gardens that now hold many working model of Leonardo's inventions.

Our time in the Loire Valley is at an end for now. Tomorrow we head south to another river just as famous as the Loire and even more ancient. In fact the correct adjective would be prehistoric. Our next stop is the Dordogne and the home of stone age art, the caves of Lascaux.