Mont-Saint- Michael and St Malo

I have visited this site many times over the past 40 years, the changes have been rung, things are not as they used to be. You can no longer get right up to the start of the causeway by car or in our case camper, you need to go to one of the many car parks, quite a distance from the causeway. You pay on leaving, jump on the free electric shuttle, this is very nice and it takes you via once stop to the end of the Mount side of the causeway, this is one of the  better tourist systems that I have come across and functions very well. 

We had decided that we would not climb the steps to the top, I have done it in the past, but at midday it would be chocker-block full of oriental camera clickers (now smart phones on sticks). 

We went to the famous La Mère Poulard only to be turned away as they no longer serve only the famous crepes, but you need to take one of the rather pricy meals. But we did get a one at the fast food outlet facing that famous restaurant. 

I used the toilet and then we headed back to the camper to get to Sant Malo and our overnight campsite. It was across the bay from the actual town of Sant Malo, at the top of a hill that looked over the entrance to the harbour, it had also been the site of one of the most heavily armoured German sites on this part of the coast. It is now a museum and a place of remembrance to WW2.

We got set up and then decided to take a walk into town, this took us past the ferry terminal that takes the ferries from Sant Malo to Portsmouth, Poole and the Channel Islands, a Britany Ferry was in  port and the road that spans the inner harbour was not open as this allows small boats to enter the harbour. It was a very nice warm evening, so it was no problem to wait and watch the movement of of the small craft. Road now open (well actually closed) we walked along the city walls passing a couple of gates, we entered the city by the main gate and walked along the street that is full of restaurants, bric-a-brac shops, tourist traps and the inevitable Moule Frites at every corner. We sorted out a one that suited our fancy i.e. selling Moule Frites. 

We asked the waiter (one does in France, you do not go in and take your own table), the Waiter was a cheeky chappie who could talk a few lines in most languages our welcome was in cockney. We ordered our meals, Linda Moule Frites, I ordered a set menu, a half a dozen oysters and Mussels with chips (yes Moule Frites), now the frites were not real frites as in Holland or Belgium, skinny crispy uniform thin things, but real chips thick and rather nice. All very tasty and a meal that gave lie to the “No R in the month rule so prevalent in Germany and the UK, a load of piffle.

I thought that I was being clever and said I know where we can get a taxi back up to our campsite, being a man of many ports in many parts of the World, always a taxi rank at ferry terminals, so we legged it to the terminal, well, well ferry departed, no taxi’s this meant we had to hike back up the hill to the campsite. We settled down for the night and got the radio 4 on the radio this is set to go off after 1 hr so it meant we fell asleep to the book at bed time.

Next morning, we were up nice and early, I had a look around the Gun emplacements and took some photos of the Britany Ferry that had just arrived.

I went back and told Linda so we both went back up and had another look around the interesting defensive fortifications. 

A view across to the other side of the promontary

The harbour entrance

We then hitched up and headed down through the very narrow streets made even more narrower as it was market day, but we managed with a few stops and starts, got the right road that took us across Britany towards Quimper and then on to our friend Reiner who lives in Penmarc´h, he had already been out and sussed the site for us, alas not being a camper, the site he had selected had no electric connection, but as the site was not at all full we just moved to a pitch with a connection and also nearer the ablutions.

The 2019 Tour of Belgium and France Battle Fields.

A visit to Ypres (Ipre) was the starting point, Linda had arranged to meet up with her niece Caroline who works at the EU HQ in Brussels. She was bringing some of Linda’s stuff from her dad’s house where she had been clear out after the funeral (bobs). We had a load of poppies, crosses and a wreath for two war graves that we were visiting.

We arrived in Ypres, found our campsite, set up and waited for Caroline to arrive (with her dog). She had brought some excellent Belgium Pastries, we made a pot of coffee and chatted for a couple of hours, we decided that we would pop into town, lucky enough to get a nice parking spot only about 100 Mtr from the Menem Gate. We decided to walk into town to the main square, hoping to go through the War Museum, alas we were too late. So we decided to go for a pint right beside the Gate. We had thought that the evening ceremony took place at 18:00 hrs, again wrong this time we were 2hrs to early. Caroline had to leave to get home to her daughter, we said our fond farewells and Caroline head off to Brussels.

This left us with 2 hrs to kill, we decided on a meal, when we were last in Ypres we had dined in a very nice Italian restaurant, we diced to again eat there. The name of the restaurant Vivaldi, if you are in Ypres well worth a visit. I had the Flemish beef stew excellent choice and Linda chose the grilled prawns in a garlic sauce. I had a nice glass red and Linda a pink to wash it down. 

We then went to the gate, got an almost front row place and watched the laying of the wreaths and the playing of the last post. We then went back to the campsite, got things ready for the night.

Next morning, we set off to find my Great Uncle Tom.

My great Uncle, Thomas Armstrong Mordue, who was my mother’s Uncle, is buried in a small CWGC cemetery on the road out of Ypres, along the Ypres Canal, it is called Bards Cottage and unlike many, is quite small, but never the less well cared for.

After a bit of a search we found him Gunner M. A. Mordue, Royal Field Artillery, Died 6^th November 1917 aged 26. I placed a poppy cross, bowed my head and said farewell.

Poix de Picardie.

We travelled at quite a sedentary pace forced on us by a SAT Nav that started to play up, in fact it locked up, so it was back to steering by charts. We missed the turning off the motorway and had to travel a good 50km before we could leave it. We did and travelled along country roads through small villages and towns until we arrived at Poix de Picardie. We stopped at the Church, this is a very nice church standing on a hill in the centre of the town, we climbed the steepish steps to the main entrance of the very well-maintained Church Yard. The people of Poix have given a plot of land to the CWGC to use as a burial ground for Allied Airmen shot down during WW2.

Linda’s Uncle Norman, Bobs brother (Linda’s Dad). Norman, was a Navigator in the RAF, but had been retrained to be a glider pilot, who while on a mission to land troops on the North flank prior to the D-Day landings, was shot down over France.

We found a nice campsite just about a kilometre distant, we got set up, it is a very busy little campsite, with lots of Brits and Dutch, the Brits I suppose on their way down to the D-Day beaches and the Dutch just touring around as they do all over Europe.

Next morning, we hitched up and headed off further South, down to the Normandy beaches, we first went to “The Pegasus Bridge”. The Bridge was named after the winged horse, which is also the insignia worn by the Parachute Regiment. This bridge was taken and held prior to the D-Day landings, the original bridge has been dismantled and is now part of the Pegasus Museum, well worth s visit and if you are heading to the beaches not far off the beaten track. After our visit to the museum we headed down to Ouistreham at the mouth of the small river, we then followed the coastline with its landing beaches Sword, Juno, Gold, Omaha and Utah. We didn’t visit any of the museums (there are many) as we had done that all before. We headed for our campsite above the Omaha beach at the town of Port en Besson again a wonderful campsite.

The original "Pegasus Bridge"

A mock up of a Hosa Glider

The remains of the Mullberry Harbour 

Our homage and respect paid to those brave men who fought to free Europe from a despotic maniac, we headed South in the direction of Mont- Saint-Michel.

---

 [RS1]

Down The Iberian Peninsular - crossing borders on the way home

Portugal to Plasencia,

The Ribatojo and Alto Alentajo

These two areas of Eastern Portugal though producing many of the best quality produce of Portugal are also the poorest. They have wonderful wines, olive oils and some of the still intact cork oaks in Portugal. Also, the Pork Sausages (Blood, white and smoked puddings) and Hams are well worth a trip.

 left the campsite paying the princely sum f €25.,- for the two nights, pity the internet wasn’t working. Retracing my journey along the river, I came once again to Constancia, today I was going via minor roads that followed the Rio Tajo, passing through small and larger towns and villages, this area is rural only agriculture, beef farming, a bit of sheep and a lot of cork and olive production.

I arrived at a small cross road, I noticed something called a Touristic Farm, this tickled my fancy so I pulled in and drove up the small drive. Parking I went into reception. I went in, no one about I peered into a side room wow that was some room.

Just then I felt a presence, it was Pedro a young chap who was seemingly in charge, I asked about it and he told me proudly that it was a project, it was a working farm, but also had rooms for families, I think a bit like “Urlaub auf’n  Bauenhof” in Germany. He told me that the project had been set up by a Belgian couple, they came at irregular intervals to see how things were going (mainly at harvest time), the project was self-sufficient, it produced vegetables, fruit, olive oil, sheep and bred cattle. Young families would come and stay a couple of weeks with their children, it was a way to get the kids in touch with the land.

Pedro

He said that he was worried by the movement of young people from the rural to the urban towns, he himself had left the area to go to find work in Lisbon but had returned to take up this position.

The Owners Private House (when he is there)

The working farm (the farm cart isn't

Here you can rent

I left with a good feeling that, this was a very worthwhile project.

I now turned away from the Tajo and headed to a charming town called Castelo de Vide, this can be seen from far off clinging to the side of a cliff, this being topped by fortifications built by King Dinis in the 13 century.

It looked good, but I saw great difficulty manoeuvring my camper around those narrow steep and winding streets, so I made do with taking photographs from the main road below. I was rewarded by the sight of a Black kite flying past. The IP2 was all in all a worth while route what with the Storks in their nests atop electricity pylons feeding their young. I left the IP2 to climb up into the National Park area, where I hopefully would find my campsite.

I arrived at just about 13:00 and was met by a charming Dutch lady, this was Annicle, she and her husband own this and have moved to Portugal on a permanent basis 16 years ago and bought this piece of land and turned it into a very nice campsite. Well with this view and the surrounding national Park who wouldn’t.

The entrance (on the bottom right is the free for guests to use car)

Me blogging

The seating area

The wonderful Annicle

I inquired about where I could get something to eat she said about 2km distance was a restaurant, but if I wanted she also had a small menu, that she cooked fresh to order, I had a look at it and noticed that she had Piri-Piri chicken on the menu, that would do me.

I said would it be ok to order it for 18:00, no problem said she. I had a look around the property, the campsite is situated on an ancient stone age settlement, the walls and door openings are clearly visible, she said that in the coming year they would be turning one of them into its original state with a straw roof. A neighbour had done this. They have installed a very nice swimming pool and the ablutions first class. Wifi is available but only in front the reception, bread can be ordered for the next morning.

It started to rain and when I say rain, it was a deluge, I was in my camper when Annicle came and knocked on the camper door, she said she would be delivering my meal as it was impossible to sit out in this, sure enough on the dot my chicken Piri-Piri flew in with a nice salad and chips, she had even added an ice-cream in just for good luck, what a nice lady.

Next morning I was off towards the Spanish border not across, but pretty close.

I left my smashing campsite and Annicle behind me and crossed over the border into Spain, the old border crossing posts looking a bit tatty now that they are unused.

A short way passed them you arrive at the one-time border town of Valencia de Altántara, this had been a thriving little town at one time, living on smuggled goods from Portugal, now it just lives off the passing tourists. 

I had been informed on very good authority that this was the place to buy your hams and sausages, this was where Annicle sold her olive oil. Show her card and you get a good discount, I was escorted through the shop (more an Aladdin’s cave), by the lady in waiting, showing me this and that and picking the best ham and smoked Lomo and cheeses of course you must taste it first. I left a couple of hundred Euros lighter but was secure in the knowledge I hadn’t been ripped off. The lady even went back into the shop and brought me a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread, that was to go with my meat and cheese.

I headed off in the rough direction of Plasencia for no other reason than it had a camping site, that had Wifi, it wasn’t a long journey as the site was in the middle of a National Park, on arrival the Lady warden tried to get me to stay for another night with the promise of something special, a bird watching trip, did she think I was that easy.

It was a nice site and I headed for the bar, beer is a great relaxer after a hard day down the pits or in the shipyards, or even on the road in Northern Spain. I had a couple and had a look to see what was on the menu, there were two mains on the plate of the day, one fish and one meat, If I had ordered it earlier I could have had Paella, also you had to be two.  I went back to the camper had 40+ winks and then at about 07:00 went down to the restaurant. The waiter was the same helpful chap that had served me earlier. I was shown to a nice table over looking the veranda, there was much coming and going of bird life and in the evening sky the swallows were dipping and soaring catching the evening meal for their young, I could hear a Roller giving off its Chack- ack call. I also saw a Montagues Harrier swoop by in search of prey.

It was time to order my meal, I thought I would have a mixed salad (Nice with egg, tuna fish and fresh salad leaves, very tasty. Next came the main, a smashing steak with chips and I finished off with a burnt custard. If I had left it at that, it would have come to €9,-, that included, 3 large glasses of very nice red wine. I ordered a coffee (Americano) and a brandy, I am not kidding the waiter brought me a large cognac tumbler and it was ¾ full, I was frightened to swill the glass in case of spilling any.   The lot came to €12,50,-,  slowly wandered up the slope to my well earned bed. I was up next morning and went down to the restaurant to get a cup of coffee, I passed the lad in charge of baking bread, he had just stocked up the oven (woodfired and said that in an hour he would be baking. He baked every day, this meant that all of the Parks bread was fresh.

As I reached my camper, there was a hullabaloo going on, a mother Azure-winged Magpie was trying to feed two fledglings, but not quick enough for their way of thinking. The Azure-winged Magpie is only to be found in Portugal and Southern Spain, so I was very lucky.

My next port of call was a small town on the main Pilgrim trail, the town of Astudilio is nestled below the ruins of one of the Templers Castles.

This is a small site and in fact is there as it is an Auberge a place for the Pilgrims to rest for the night. A lot of them do it in stops, they stop for the night and when they are ready to move on, a van then transfers their baggage on the next phase of their journey. This was a very busy little place, unfortunately in the next village was a big festival taking place, I missed it earlier and Sunday was the big day, this is when the Devil, dressed in harlequin outfit, jumps over the young babies lying on the ground, that is prior before he is done to death. I found a soulmate in the cook, he was also a keen ornithologist, he showed me loads of fotos, I did not realise that this area of Northern Spain is famous for the Great Bustard. Outside the campsite also had a great wood fired oven, here the cook was cooking legs of Lamb, I actually saw the butcher delivering them earlier, so no frozen NZ lamb here.  

Pamplona.

I have always wanted to visit this City ever since reading Earnest Hemingway’s book , I have been nearly there many times but never quite made it. But now was the time, though alas the bull running is not for another month. I found a great Parking spot, down beside the river, funnily enough it was right beside the Auberge Paderborn, this pilgrims hostel was financed by the Paderborn Diocese and still partnered  by them.

I wandered up into the old town, it has some mighty walls, towers and battlements, I entered through the mighty gates and worked my way through the streets dodging in and out of pilgrims (this is one of the major starting points on their journey. I visited the Covered Market (very nice but they close up shop for lunch and most stalls either were or just about to close for their Siesta, I thought I would go to the Cathedral, would you believe it, it was also closed, do the priests and their ilk also have a Siesta every day? So, I found a very nice set of gardens had a sit down, took some photo’s and set off to find the campsite, this was a way out of town.

It was an ok campsite not a great one but ok, it is used by lots of students and spectators when the bull running takes place, I think I will give it a miss this year. I had an early night as I wanted to be off on the road at 08:00, it was a long drive to the Pyrenean State of Andorra, this was to be my next place I was wanting to visit on my journey home.