August Trip Across the Water
(again)
The trip was planned in January and as we were expecting to enter the superb Belgian Wings and Wheels Show we only booked enough time to spend three or more days there. In the mean time a show in France came up featuring Gareth’s all time favourites ‘Hawkwind’ so we extended our dates to incorporate this festival in the southern region of France and we were booked from 03/08/06 until 13/08/06. After we had left our details to show interest in this festival we were told that it had been cancelled. What a bummer - we were going to have quite a few days spare in Europe.
We decided that would not be too difficult to do as I am still scouring every supermarche for that perfect croissant and pain au chocolat - and yes, we were emailed a few promising ideas of museums to visit from Thorsten our friend in Germany.
I forced Gareth out of bed on the 3rd at 3 in the morning as I do like to get value out of my holiday and prepared to reach Dover in good time for the 8 o’clock sailing to Dunkerque with Norfolk Line (best value for us) We were supposed to arrive at least an hour before sailing, but due to a couple of hiccoughs on the motorways we arrived in the nick of time with every other late bugger! No probs getting on though - thank goodness.
After all the heat we had been having in England, we were expecting soaring temperatures of 37 degrees, but we arrived in a very cool and damp Dunkerque at the allotted time of 11 o’clock european time. Unlike everyone else on the boat who go whizzing off to final destinations, we take our time in the port area to sort through our huge collection of maps (owned and library) to find our first port of call, well town actually!
Day One:
We did not have far to travel as we were planning to visit Calais and the immediate area sometime in the holiday and thought we would start off slowly and head for this first. On the way Gareth noticed a tiny place called Bleriot Plage and in my scribbled notes I have written ‘pissing’ and I think this is to remind me that it certainly was very wet indeed! So wet that my shoes and feet inside were soaked from the rain gushing through the door seal and down the dash, onto the pedals and finally, my feet. We thought this should not deter us from sightseeing and we galloped off through the puddles to take photos of the monument to Bleriot’s first flight across the Channel and I am sure Gareth will post a picture to prove this (the blurs on the photo are the raindrops hitting the lens and this could be taken into consideration on some of the other photos of the holiday).
I was hoping to find a supermarche and my first stock of breakfast food, oh and a campsite for the night. I was to find both of these on the way to Cape Gris Nez where our first museum was to be found. The museum is ‘Batterie Todt’ and is housed in a remaining casemate of the Atlantik Wall that I had not really paid any attention to in the past. By sheer good fortune (sorry, that should read SKILL not fortune) there was a municipal campsite attached to this museum and we asked for two nights. All we were asked to pay for up front for, was the electronic gizmo for getting us in and out of the camp with the car and the campsite owner/proprietor/whatever was holding my passport ransom until we returned it at the end of the stay! A bit worrying at first, but during the trip we got used to this.
We (and when I say we I mean Gareth) - erected the tent whilst I stuck the camp stove on for a good old cup of Darj and Ceylon for Gareth. We people watched for an hour or so and bedded down at the ridiculous time of 21.15 but fell instantly asleep although it was still sunny and left our visit to the museum for...
Day Two:
The museum was only a few paces away and we got there as it opened. Dark, dingy and dripping, it was a (can’t think of a word here)........I know, a revelation, as it all sunk in and I learnt another forgotten part of history. Well worth a visit, especially the other three casemates that weren’t for entry, but we forced one through the razor and barbed wire, to find how dangerously delapidated they were. We walked to Audreselles and then back along the beach and cliff-top back to our camp-site where we watched a frequent visitor in the shape of a Madame with big buttocks constantly bending to adjust her antenna for the satellite dish and then constantly hoicking the g-string out of her ample buttocks. Why do people go on holiday to watch TV? It beats me............Had another early night to avoid this vision and got up early to buy our breakfast from the little hut on the site (guess what?) to start early on...
Day Three:
Paid our dues and got my passport back and headed off to our next museum which should have been just down the road - well it was just down the road, but f***ing well hidden and this was the V3 Site at Mimoyecques. Monstrous and awesome and well worth a visit down the long tunnels that carried the prisoners along to work on the rockets and to build the complex of major tunnels deep into the hill. The top ‘floor’ is the only one accessible as the others that go many hundred feet down are left filled in as they are the final resting place of all those that perished when London had to bomb the site to save England. There are memorials in there to remember this.
The rest of the day was spent slowly travelling through and across to Sedan - passing through Bethune and Arras (where Heidi the Landrover had a little shudder when she remembered having a little ‘trouble’ with her clutch lever at Arras a few years back) We arrived quite late and thought the camp-site at Sedan might be closed for the night (this is one I actually managed to find in the European Camping Guide 2005) We therefore bedded down in the back of the Landrover at the side of the River Meuse at St Menges. Really early to bed again to be ready for our early arrival to the camp on...
Day Four:
The camp was open at 8 in the morning and we found out we could have arrived up until 10 the night before and were surprised at this lovely setting on the river and mooring site for the small cruisers that tie up at Sedan.
We had a lot of help at booking in and lots of recommendations, pamphlets and maps on the sights - and as this was another municipal camp, the fees were dirt cheap. The delights of a ‘french’ toilet were to be only topped by the ginger monsters that annoyed all and especially me. Every time I made the quiet journey to the french toilet with my toilet roll, I was followed by these foreign devils following me into the toilets calling out ‘piss pissss’ I explained to Gareth that I had to make all these visits with the toilet roll, because I couldn’t concentrate on the business in hand. Gareth informed me that these weren’t French foreign devils, but good ol’ Irish - I just could not distinguish their broad accent! The father was leaving them each morning to go off ‘tarmac-ing’ the poor French people for the summer and left the huge family to fend for themselves until he arrived home in the evening with a ready clip round the head for each of them. They deserved it!!! but the father wasn’t to know this - thankyou Paddy.
Enough of this - I must say we did get to see Sedan Castle this first morning and walked into town in the direction that we had been advised. We had thought to visit Sedan Castle, because a planned a visit to this castle and Bouillon Castle in Belgium was to be our first off-road adventure with Danny & Carinne at Easter in our Unimogs. As it worked out - they were far too busy getting ready for their South American Trip, so we did a local circuit instead and left the castles for another time.
We did not off-road between them as were going to do - but took Heidi the Landrover to look at each and she certainly enjoyed herself, just as we did. The castle was wonderful and we took a leisurely jaunt round the moat first and cast an eye at all the Bugattis that were staying at the Castle Hotel with their owners on their tour round The Ardennes.
Gareth had been constantly looking out for the wild boar of the ardennes so to cook him, paste him and eat him as Ardennes Pate (his favourite of all pates). We entered the castle behind a (now do not take this personally Thorsten) rabble of krauts out with their kinder und haus herr (opposite of haus frau) What a racket, and this noise bounced off the 2 metres thick castle walls and gave me an extremely painful kopf. We held back at regular intervals to achieve serenity in this picturesque place and this gave us time to absorb vibes from the tribes (sorry, I mean the feel of the period). It was certainly cool in the confines of the various dungeons and I am sure a few stray kraut kinder were left there to perish!! I must say that they (the Germans) should not take this diatribe personally as I am actually ssshhhhh - half German! Well, I’ve got this truth out in the open!!
We made our way back to the camp site and back to the foreign Irish brats - now which is worse? If they only could have been French! as I find these little ones - enchanting, along with little Dutch people and little Belgians. They just seem to know how to behave! I had expected to see many holidaying French - as I had read that August is well known for ‘shutting down’ and the roads are notorious for being full to capacity with French autos. We found the roads relatively quiet and most of the caravans and tourists were from Holland and we being mainly the only British campers in the area. I hoped they appreciated us visiting them and sampling the delights of France. As you may have gathered, my delights are to be bought in the boulangerie and these delights have now come to rest around my midriff. As I type up this report I can nearly rest my arms on my tummy (I point out ‘that nearly’ and not ‘really’)
I am diversif...going off the subject and must return with news of our travels!
We went to sleep early again to the sound of thick Irish brogue and swallows swooping over the tent in readiness for
