In a nutshell, Apple products must be online to function with “Word’ properly. I had two days of hard typing done and it’s lost!

So briefly, after Ypres we went to a couple of other Belgian towns, Mons, Binche, and Dinant. The latter was outstanding, and if I can I’ll stick some nice pics up, here’s some of The Menin Gate

 

 

Belgium and Ypres.

The drive from Mesnieres into Belgium was again by motorway. We called into a wee shop in the village before we left for a baguette, cheese and melon. That was breakfast sorted. We called into a service area, and feasted on our favourite breakfast in the warm sunshine of NW France. Not a cloud was seen all morning, which was odd because when we woke up there was a dense fog and it was 0°. The bread and melon were all we wished for but the cheese looked and tasted like a young goat cheese. Wasn’t that good but none got wasted.

And so to Ypres, a stunning Belgian city that was wrecked during WW1 and two. After the first war, the Menem Gate, a stunning piece of architecture was erected to thank the people of Ypres for being such an important allied hub during the conflict. There has been a tradition going back until 1920’s to sound the last post at 8pm daily. We got to see this moving tribute to our fallen, in the company of a few hundred others.

Called into a pub, well sat in the sunshine outside and tried a couple of their seventy-three beers on offer! Have to say, Margaret loved hers, and mine, well you don’t need to ask.

Ypres is touristy, but just because people want to see it. It doesn’t shove commerce down your neck at every twist and turn, it’s a working town, and absolutely perfect the way it is.

We stayed for the night at Crack Stadium, a sports and football stadium donated to the young people of the world by the Football Association England. Very handy, only fifteen minutes walk to Menem Gate, and the town centre.

Mons was originally our second Belgian city but we decided instead to go to Binch, cos life’s a Binch. We only drove for 85 miles to get here, and first impressions weren’t to good. We got to the Aire and really needed water and disposal. The Relais point had no water and when I checked the Elsan, wow, recoil in horror. It hadn’t functioned for a long time but still, some twats had tipped their cassettes. Sometimes life puzzles me.

Anyway, we dandered up into the town centre, and it is a pretty town. Cobbled streets, and us being here at the very start of their 1.5-hour lunch break, meant we never saw a lot of it. We sat at a pavement café for a drink and watched the world go by.

It was at this stage I decided to exclude motorways from our route, so that we could pass through a few small towns to se the real Belgium, and that was a clever plot. The villages and towns are all higgly piggly in their layout, with the exception sometimes of the centre. This adds to their charm, and the ones we walked about in were very charming and quaint. In the odd place you will come across a Tank at the side of the road, a solemn reminder of a time when driving around here was not as easy. Jim McCormick would have loved the MOT centre we passed. In its fore grounds were several field guns, and other mobile militaria!

When we passed a sign for Luxembourg, we immediately decided to go there, rather than Namur. This would be our fourth country, but neither of us had realized, after passing a local sign proclaiming Province of Luxembourg, that this was a province of Belgium! So, although we were in Luxembourg, we weren’t.

Anyway, it didn’t matter because the real one was only about sixty miles away.

What did matter was a sign showing the way to the European Space Agency visitor centre. It would have been rude not to call in, so we spent a couple of action packed hours, which included us both doing a simulated space walk. Both on Mars and the Moon! That was hilarious and I’ve got evidence of Margaret actually exerting herself!

But wait. How remiss of me not to tell you of the most beautiful lace we’ve seen so far.

Dinant, a really old large town wit a castle high above on a sheer cliff face. This is where the Saxophone was invented by some guy who had nothing to do one day.

We had seen pictures of vans parked up on the river bank and that is where we headed. Oh no, a building site! They have dug the whole area up, to upgrade the hard landscaping which meant there was no room at the in for us. We searched for a suitable place to park up, and indeed found one. After negotiating a very short but very steep hill, and manoeuvring into the only place available in this place suitable for about four cars, and there was a car and camper van there already, we saw the sign. Private! After a three-hundred-point turn, and frayed nerves we were on the road again. Tried two campsites, both closed, so gave up and parked in another private place. Sod it!

Woke up after a god sleep and headed for Namur which in fact was going to be Luxembourg as you now now!

So after the ESA we were on our way through more pretty villages, forests with excellent roads cut through them, over hills, dales and mountains, across countless rivers, and more than one “Oh look at that”……

So the coordinates for  Echternach proved wrong again, going to have to suss this out, so we opted for our first campsite.

Day 1. 

Against all statistics and historical information available at the time of writing we left home to start our 2016 trip, on time. 

First time for everything I suppose. 

An uneventful drive down to and through Dublin brought us to the Wicklow hills. This is an area of harsh beauty, narrow bumpy roads, and fabulous unspoilt scenery, with a few gasp moments thrown in for good measure. On a sunny day it would be nearly unbeatable to do the drive in an open top car, the wind in your hair, if you have any, and the sun on your smiling face. 

Our destination was Glenmalure Lodge, a hostelry nestled in the Glenmalure valley. A large welcoming car park, friendly staff indoors and good food and drink. A winner. This is and ideal centre for walkers and ramblers, but beware, it is infested with midgies in July. 

We called in for a quick pint when we arrived, and that was our downfall. At around one am after being serenaded by what was originally a four piece, but developed in to a ten-piece band of local musicians, we realized the bar was nearly empty. This oversight was only the result of a fine evening, where the craic never stopped, and the sound of laughter was infectious and warming. 

Friday morning nothing much happened, nor could it. Six hangovers meant just an easy stroll along the deserted road. A big hand to Deirdre, Jim, James, Paul, and of course us, for a sensational start to the trip. 

Our next port of call was near Rosslare, where the ferry departs from. We were to call in and see the lovely Alfy and Catherine. Originally for a cuppa and catch up, Catherine had made a lovely dinner, which we munched happily now that the hangover was gone. Thanks again you two. Best of luck in your way forward. 

And so dear blogites, to the ferry. Our little catch up, left us with minus 15 minutes to catch the ferry, last to arrive, but that was ok because we had left our house on time yesterday! 

We had just parked in our lane, when the boarding process started. Margaret had just enough time to pack the overnight bag, until we found ourselves on board and preparing for the seventeen-hour trip. The original plan was to get bladdered and sleep most of the way, but I couldn’t face it, so after three drinks went to bed. Al was well until around two am. The boat was slapping around, those dead of night at sea noises had arrived. Up and down, bang slap, and the then I woke up some hours later to a calm sea and smooth and steady progress. We arrived in Cherbourg. Had just berthed and the Captain announced they had given us the wrong berth, we would have to relocate. Could only happen to us. 

But never mind that, we got off and out of Cherbourg, painlessly, and hurtled down the motorway to Caen and then onto Rouen. Arriving at Mesniers en Bray our first location. After getting misplaced twice, once in Caen and once in Rouen, and five hours and two hundred and ten miles later, in the dark, couldn’t find the Aire, so stayed the night at a car park beside Avenue Verte. It is a beautiful place even though we awoke to thick fog. 

And so, the holiday part of the trip starts today, so much to look forward too. I can’t promise the following blogs will be as busy as this one, but if I get up early enough and can remember……….. 

As an after thought, I'm going to put times miles distance etc into an exec doc and post hem weekly. Any questions........

Blog 16

Day 1.

Against all statistics and historical information available at the time of writing we left home to start our 2016 trip, on time.

First time for everything I suppose.

An uneventful drive down to and through Dublin brought us to the Wicklow hills. This is an area of harsh beauty, narrow bumpy roads, and fabulous unspoilt scenery, with a few gasp moments thrown in for good measure. On a sunny day it would be nearly unbeatable to do the drive in an open top car, the wind in your hair, if you have any, and the sun on your smiling face.

Our destination was Glenmalure Lodge, a hostelry nestled in the Glenmalure valley. A large welcoming car park, friendly staff indoors and good food and drink. A winner. This is and ideal centre for walkers and ramblers, but beware, it is infested with midgies in July.

We called in for a quick pint when we arrived, and that was our downfall. At around one am after being serenaded by what was originally a four piece, but developed in to a ten-piece band of local musicians, we realized the bar was nearly empty. This oversight was only the result of a fine evening, where the craic never stopped, and the sound of laughter was infectious and warming.

Friday morning nothing much happened, nor could it. Six hangovers meant just an easy stroll along the deserted road. A big hand to Deirdre, Jim, James, Paul, and of course us, for a sensational start to the trip.

Our next port of call was near Rosslare, where the ferry departs from. We were to call in and see the lovely Alfy and Catherine. Originally for a cuppa and catch up, Catherine  had made a lovely dinner, which we munched happily now that the hangover was gone. Thanks again you two. Best of luck in your way forward.

And so dear blogites, to the ferry. Our little catch up, left us with minus 15 minutes to catch the ferry, last to arrive, but that was ok because we had left our house on time yesterday!

We had just parked in our lane, when the boarding process started. Margaret had just enough time to pack the overnight bag, until we found ourselves on board and preparing for the seventeen-hour trip. The original plan was to get bladdered and sleep most of the way, but I couldn’t face it, so after three drinks went to bed. Al was well until around two am. The boat was slapping around, those dead of night at sea noises had arrived. Up and down, bang slap, and the then I woke up some hours later to a calm sea and smooth and steady progress. We arrived in Cherbourg. Had just berthed and the Captain announced they had given us the wrong berth, we would have to relocate. Could only happen to us.

But never mind that, we got off and out of Cherbourg, painlessly, and hurtled down the motorway to Caen and then onto Rouen. Arriving at Mesniers en Bray our first location. After getting misplaced twice, once in Caen and once in Rouen, and five hours and two hundred and ten miles later, in the dark, couldn’t find the Aire, so stayed the night at a car park beside Avenue Verte. It is a beautiful place even though we awoke to thick fog.

And so, the holiday part of the trip starts today, so much to look forward too. I can’t promise the following blogs will be as busy as this one, but if I get up early enough and can remember………..

Today it's a miserable old day in our part of the world. The weather is a bit depressing but since I got the itinerary finished last night, and we've only five more sleeps, it doesn't bother me.
Just trying to set up a hard drive with hours and hours of recorded tv for the nights, and hopefully there wont be many, when its too wet to go outside.
Been checking the weather forecasts lately for the places on our trip, and the whole of Europe is again warming up. Some places are going into the twenties this weekend! Woop woop.
By the time we get home we'll have done twenty three of these countries.

Four weeks today we board the "Oscar Wilde" Irish Ferries boat to Cherbourg in France.                For weeks I've been studying maps, looking up web sites, downloading Apps. All the stuff needed for a smooth trip, especially since we're gong to visit countries in eastern Europe.
I've discovered there aren't many camp sites in Bulgaria and Slovenia, wild camping is largely forbidden. Wilding is totally banned in Austria, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, and Hungary. We'll not know how rigid the rules are until we meet fellow travellers en route.

I've forgotten how to do a few things on the blog, so I will retrain myself over the next couple of weeks so that the blog runs smoothly on the road.

Margarets interest is the same now as it was fourteen weeks ago, a bemused smile when she sees me concentrating on how we'll survive ten to twelve weeks on the road with no clear idea off where we're going next.

I'm sort of starting to ponder where next year will take us. I fancy the land of the midnight sun in June and July. Arctic circle and polar bears. Bring it on.
Or possibly Ireland and Scotland!