Magnificent Mosel & Metz

Our next stop was in Koblenz at the confluence of the Rhine and Mosel. We stayed overnight on the site of the old campground we stayed at in the 70s but now it is owned by a German Motorhome Manufacturer – Knaus. They make overpriced Motorhomes and now it seems they own and manage overpriced campgrounds. We stayed outside on the Aire for the night then headed off down the Mosel. The river winds its way upstream and eventually into France. 

All along the river vineyards cling to the slopes. Every inch of arable land is covered with row after row of vines patterned like giant green patchwork quilts thrown upon the hillsides. On the thin margin of flat land bordering the river banks beautiful Medieval villages overlook the riverfront. With so little flatland many are terraced along the lower margin of the hillside. Some of these places are of outstanding beauty like Cochem, Berncastel, Trarbach and Trier. We spent the first nigh along the Mosel beside the river at Neef, a small village about halfway up the river towards France. It was a large flat grassed area with lots of other motorhomes right on the river bank. People who come to Germany rave about the Rhine but this leaves it for dead. This by far the most scenic river in Germany and it's less crowded with tourists. 

After running out of adjectives to describe just how beautiful the places we drove through were, we arrived at our next overnight stop in Trier. “Thirteen hundred years before Rome, Trier stood / may it stand on and enjoy eternal peace”. So reads a medieval inscription on the façade of the Red House in Trier market. This was an ancient Celtic city that became a major Roman outpost of the northern Empire. It wasn't as far north as Rome reached as the city of Koln (Cologne) was founded by Agrippa. 

We stayed in an Aire on the side of the river again and cycled into town across the Roman bridge. The city is a mixture of ancient and medieval architectural styles with the dominant Porta Nigra the main feature of the town. It is the largest Roman city gate north of the Alps. There are also the remains of three Roman baths here as well. 

From here the Mosel becomes the border with Luxembourg so we travelled along the Luxembourg side so we could fill up with cheaper fuel – its a tax haven like Andorra. From here the vineyards thin out and give way to forested hills. We crossed the border into northern France still following the river. This is  le Pays Trois Frontieres – the land of three borders (France, Luxembourg and Germany) and noted for its outstanding landscape. You can hike and bike all over the area and visit its four major cities – Trier, Luxembourg, Saarbruken and the jewel in the crown of northeastern France, Metz.

Metz is the capital of Lorraine – of quiche Lorraine fame, but don't expect to buy one here as they seem to be available everywhere in France but here. But that is not what makes this place special. What sets Metz apart is the fact that is has one of the largest Urban Conservation Areas in France with over 100 heritage listed building, one the largest commercial pedestrian areas, is a designated French Town of Art and History and is nicknamed la Ville Verte the Green City because of the extensive municipal parks and public gardens. To borrow a modern phrase that is entirely appropriate (see below for one that isn't) this place is drop dead gorgeous. Even the municipal campground on the banks of the Mosel we stayed in was lovely and ridiculously cheap given that it is the height of the summer holidays here. All the great adjectives apply here and then some. My personal favourite is and shall remain forever Saint Stephen Cathedral.

What is it about contemporary society that takes a traditional word and rebrands it as dogshit. So it is with the word “Gothic” a modern day catchall for everything from “B” Grade vampire movies past and present to “F” Grade pop culture with its tattoos, body piercings, and Ford model “T” wardrobe. But here standing in the transept of Saint Stephen's the word regains its true meaning. This is a place of “Gothic” proportions both literally and figuratively. I am dwarfed by the sheer scale of the place and overcome with a sense of awe and wonder. The gaudy ostentation of Paris, Amiens, Chartres and especially Barcelona are absent here. There is a purity, a naked beauty and an overwhelming sense of light. I can't help but think that gothic cathedrals like this one were the inspiration for Tolkein's Dwarf Hall of Moria and the Lonely Mountain. Here there are no shock haired, inky pincushioned, night-shades breaking dawn wind. Here “Gothic” is a thing of beauty and inspiration.

We finally dragged ourselves away and began the journey west to Reims the home of champagne. And just like Lorraine there wasn't a vineyard to be seen anywhere along the way. I'm beginning to think all this is just clever marketing. Though Reims has a pedigree far more distinguished than Metz, visually and aesthetically it is but a shadow of the latter. The Notre Dame de Reims may be the coronation site of over 24 French Kings, including the Merovingians and the Carolingians, but it lacks the raw beauty of Metz. The city is a mix of German and French architecture but is not as impressive as others we have been to. Unfortunately we didn't have time to visit one of the famous champagne caves.

Our time is up. The last leg to Calais was hard to take as we knew that it would be our last port of call in Europe until next year. Although Calais is just another working port with a rather unkempt atmosphere, it was still able to surprise us. After travelling around a lot of Europe's coast we finally found a beach with real Aussie-like sand. We took the early morning ferry to Dover and just to make sure we were back in the UK, within a hour of our arrival it was pissing down with rain. And just to make doubly sure we were back the prices skyrocketed. In Europe we gained admission to some of the world's finest cathedrals for FREE and in Canterbury they wanted £9.50 to see inside Canterbury Cathedral. They really have no idea here. The place is sinking into the mire and all they can think about is what Kate and William will call latest addition to the “Welfare State”.

Well it is almost over. We will be taking Dal and the family to Cornwall for two week then its back to Yorkshire to store the van till next year. It's been a wonderful trip and we are sad it is almost over. Hope you have enjoyed the Blog. Love to you all and will see you back in Oz.

Beautiful Bavaria

Italy was just a whistle stop this trip. We stayed overnight in Brescia. It was another Aire this one on the grounds of Cassini Maggia, an old hostel. The building was beautiful in stone and timber. 

We left early and headed east for Lake Garda where we turned north near Verona and started the long climb up and over the Brenner Pass. Austria went by in a blink and we skirted Innsbruck and climbed over the the Zirlerberg Pass into Bavaria, winding down into the Isar valley. This is the river that flows through Munich. 

We spent the night in Garmisch-Partenkirchen with a bunch of wankers, literally. It was another Aire in the Wank Car Park. From here you can get the Wankbahn up to the top of the Wank or sit and relax in the Wank Haus. The view from our spot was spectacular. Towering over G-P like a silent white sentry is the Zugspitzes, Germany's tallest mountain. The twin towns are beautifully preserved Bavarian alpine history. The phrase picture postcard is bandied about to describe even average places but here the phrase is no mere cliché it is a living breathing postcard.

The trip from here to Munich was a real adventure. The five kilometre long road tunnel north of Garmish was closed and we had to detour over hills and dales and along valleys and over streams and through villages with main roads narrower than a Newtown backstreet. It was grim but no fairy tale. We finally reached Thalkirchen on the Isar, a souther suburb of Munich. It was here last year we discovered the kids surfing the standing wave created by the spillway next the camping ground. The kids were still there ripping and shredding but they had to give way to the river rafts. It's holiday season here and the rafts full of boozy patrons and live bands were floating down the river, down the spillways and ending their thirty mile booze cruise right next to the camping ground. We took some great movies and will upload them when we can onto FB. 

We rode into town this trip, a 15k round trip and we did it twice. The second time was around 20 as we cycled through the English Garden, the world's larges city park. It's here at the entrance to the gardens that the more famous standing wave is situated. It's larger but the atmosphere here is nowhere near that of Thalkirchen. It's just a wave for the big guys, no grassy bank with picnickers, sunbathers, campers, rafts or young girls and guys patiently taking it in turns to rip, crash and return. Although it was a bigger and better wave I was underwhelmed after seeing Thalkirchen. The return trip was through town and across the river by the Deutsches Museum. The cycleways here are outstanding, not just Munich but everywhere we have been. This is an outstanding city and another one that has integrated it's historical past within a modern framework without detracting from either.

We left Munich and headed up the Romantic Road, now a non romantic motorway for most of its length. We stopped at Rothenberg on the Tauber, another complete Medieval Walled City and another Aire just across the road from the southern entrance to the city. Now this is the romance we were looking for. Every Grimm Fairy Tale could have been set here. You can imagine Hansel & Gretel living over there, Repunzal's tower just around the corner and I expect to hear 'Hi Ho Hi Ho its off to work we go” echoing down the winding alleys. This is another living picture postcard. Nothing with a stamp on it could compare to this place in real life. Definitely coming back here. With heavy hearts we close the book on this fairy tale city but left a bookmark at the Rothenberg page. 

Our next stop was Wurzberg at the northern end of the Romantic Road. We stayed in a Aire in the city, a huge carpark on the banks of the River Main. It was a little crowded but we had a spot right on the bank looking out over the river and the town on the other side. This is a working river and part of the Rhine-Main-Danube system. Through a series of locks along these three rivers you can travel from Rotterdam to the Black Sea then through the Bosphorus to the Mediterranean. We sat and watched the incredibly long river boats slowly pass by before heading off into town. A short walk along the river is the Alter Brucke (the old bridge) the pedestrian entrance to the city. The bridge is beautifully preserved with statues of saints set on pedestals at intervals across its length, stoney stares overlooking the human bridge traffic passing by. The city has not however maintained its heritage architecture and there are many modern building mixed among the old. 

The next day we climbed winding road and pathway up to Wurzberg castle. We walked through the gardens full of colourful flowers and there is even a tranquil Japanese garden. There were so many winding pathways and steep connecting stairs it felt like we were in a game of Snakes & Ladders. We finally reached the top and entered the castle through a huge curved tunnel. Only two of the four gates remain, huge wooden doors mounted in a wrought iron frame and set in their original pivots. The portcullis is gone but this place had some serious defences in its day. The view from the walls is panoramic as it looks down over the city, the river, the vine covered hills behind and the valley stretching away in the distance. It would be worth taking a photograph except for the white monsters on the hilltops, wind turbines lined up on the ridges like ominous triffids. 

We left Wurzberg and headed west along the Autobahn. We passed Frankfurt and headed to Mainz and the little campground on the river where we stayed last year. It's beautiful set among the trees on an little island on the northern bank of the River Main. We can look out over the river and see the city on the opposite bank. Just outside the fence the bike track follows the river and now and then another river cruiser taking lazy tourists to the Danube or Rhine motors by. This place has a special meaning for me because it was here, using Caxton's invention that Gutenberg printed the first bible. It was here from this Reformation heartland that the stranglehold the Roman Catholic Church had on knowledge was broken and literacy became available to a wider world. The monasteries with their scriveners, copyists, illuminators, translators and secret libraries were to become obsolete. A thousand years of imposed illiteracy destroyed by a printing press - It felt good to know that in my own minuscule way I was a part of it. Their only secrets left were the making of beer and liqueurs and even that would would pass to newly literate.

We rode into town and wandered along the riverfront where there was a beerfest happening. The atmosphere was great then we walked uptown and sat in the main square and did our usual thing while eating icecream sundaes (hope Brett doesn't read this bit). The town is very pretty but the whole city center is being renovated and many of the buildings have scaffolding up for the workmen to refurbish the stonework. We left the next morning – today and headed for Rudesheim another of our favorite place on the Rhine. This post is coming to you from there. We are sitting outside at McCafe sipping coffee and contemplating our next stops. We only have just over a week before we are back in London. It seems like yesterday we were setting off. We have to go the Mosel awaits.

Paradise in Provence

Did you guess correctly that it was Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Picasso (Pablo is Paul in Spanish). Consider yourself smarter than a 60 year old. 

Arles is another outstanding city. I can see why so many artists came here. History asserts itself here like so many boisterous children vying for attention. “Look at me. No look at me. Over here look at me”. There is so much to take in. The centrepiece of the city is the Arena, a Roman colosseum that is smaller than Rome but much more complete. So much so they us it for open air concerts. The Gypsy Kings were playing on the night we arrived. Just around the corner is the remains of a Roman theatre again almost complete. The rest of the city is a mix of Medieval an later colonial styles. The narrow streets are cool beneath a clear blue Mediterranean sky. Shutters, climbing ivy and vivid flowers abound – on light-posts, balconies, plazas and parks. 

The Café Terrace on the Place du Forum and quiet courtyard of the Hospital on Place du Docteur Félix-Rey are so strikingly untouched by time that Vincent could have been here yesterday. Even the Langlois Bridge is still as it was in 1888 when he painted views of both banks. It's like history has marked time so that those of us who felt his pain could see Arles through his eyes over a century later. There is something about Provence that touches the soul. The warm winds with a sent of lavender, the rugged pine covered hills and valleys, the bright blue sky and the distant blue of the Mediterranean make this place special. We left with sadness but we will return. 

We are once again here in Cannes in our favourite campground, we even have the same place we had last year beneath tall eucalypts. It's quiet here and the view beyond the trees takes in the coast and surrounding hills. If you want a place with narrow streets that wind their way up the side of the hillside then this is it. If you are a bus driver in Cannes you can drive a bus anywhere. I think the phrase 'threading the needle' was invented here to describe bus drivers. We wandered around the streets on Sunday when we arrived. Everything was closed but along the alleyways and in empty carparks there was the Trash and Treasure market. Well trash mainly. It seems like every house along the winding streets drag out all their unwanted nick-nacks (and that's being polite) to sell to anyone gullible enough to think their getting a bargain. “It's not hand painted Margie. OK so it was only €1”. You get so involved with the whole event that you turn around and find you are standing at the top of the hill in a cool shady courtyard of the Chapel and Tower of St Anne with its spectacular view of the city below and the distant coast as it stretches east toward Nice and Monaco. 

The next day we took the bus to Nice. We were amazed it only cost €1.50 until it took two hours and it stopped at every second street corner between Cannes and Nice. The payoff was we landed smack in the middle of Stage 4 of Le Tour de France. It was the team time trial on a street course around the beach promenade and city streets. IT WAS AWESOME. The pre-race “Caravan” was just amazing. The sponsors all have mobile floats that are driven around the course. There's music blaring corporate jingles, Spruikers rabbeting on like late night infomercial hosts, dancing girls and guys, people in mascot suits, and lots and lots of cheap give aways thrown from the vehicles. Although some throw aways are not so cheap, like the Le Tour Polka Dot jersey that Margie had thrown to her before all the hullabaloo started. €70 worth of official race attire. Nice one.

We found a spot by the railing next to two young Aussies one in a Kangaroo suit. He must have been boiling as it was 30º. Took heaps of photos and had a great day. The Aussie team Greenedge won the time trial and they also had the Yellow Jersey. Not bad for a team that only started in Le Tour last year. We decided to catch the train back to Cannes, another two hour bus ride was not an option.

We had to set the alarm for Wednesday morning and use the front gate code to get out of the campground early enough to catch the bus to Grasse and get there before they closed of the roads. You see we got to watch Le Tour TWICE in two days. Pretty neat huh. I'd like to say I planned it like this but I'd be a big Julialiar. Grasse was planned Nice was a total fudge. We wandered around for a while before the race was due. Sat and had coffee and a pastry under umbrellas in a street-side cafe then browsed in the local shops. We bought some fragrant soaps and placemats. Now we just have to find a nook or cranny for them in the van. 

This was very different to Nice. There we stood and watch as each team took turns around the track at five minute intervals. We watched the whole thing and it took around two hours not including the pre-race circus. At Grasse we watched the procession of the “caravan” which took over an hour. They do this for the whole length of the race route – nearly 200kms some places. The race itself took less than two minutes to go by. We we lucky this race had a half a dozen guys in a breakaway that went through first then it was a 10 minute wait for the pelaton. Luckily I had my camera set to take 8 frames a second. We waited two hours for two minutes of race, that's the Tour de France. It's the atmosphere as much as the race that drags you in. We are only sad that we won't be with Tony and Gaille when they see it. 

Today we spent just wandering around Cannes again, lunch at a cafe, lying on the cool grass in the shade of palm trees by the beach and watching all the hand squeezes go by. That's Margie Speak for grossly overweight people. She squeezes my hand to get my attention. Some days I have to rub it with Dencorub it's so bruised. We are sitting here now looking out over a beautiful twilight. The sun has gone down but the sky is still pale blue and fading into grey and streaked with high cloud. There is a faint pink tinge to the silhouette of distant hills and the town now is just pinpricks of light by the sea. Time to finish and welcome Morpheus' embrace. We head for Italy tomorrow, then across the Alps to Munich.