Brigitte the Twenties! – Day Twenty to Twenty Nine
Sunday 2 June 2013. Day 20.
Had things gone to plan we would have been having lunch at Buoux now. That would have been after walking to the fort and back. Unfortunately Niki awoke this morning and it was immediately clear to both of us that she was in no fit state to go walking or indeed to enjoy any sort of lunch that required functional taste buds! We cancelled our table and set to with the jigsaw. By now both of us wanted it finished and away.
A couple of hours mostly spent trying each of the remaining pieces one after another in one, two or pehaps three spaces at any given time saw the job almost done. In the end there were four spaces remaining to be filled with three pieces available. None of the three pieces fit any of the ‘holes’. Indeed one of the pieces was an ‘extra’ piece of edge. We documented the end of the jigsaw with a photograph outside the caravan before breaking it up, outting it into its box and leaving it at the bac des vaiselles (dish washing sinks). Someone else can have some fun with it, free of charge. We certainly had our euro’s worth from it. We had bought it in BSG last September at a vide grenier. A Dutch woman was selling up to move back to Holland and had confirmed that all of the pieces were ‘in the box’. It is perhaps worth noting that we turned out the two bunk lockers and also the forward overhead locker in search of further missing pieces but none could be found. We did though, make one discovery, the location of the second leisure battery. It had been hidden under a pile of shoes in a place that I had never visited since we bought the van. Hurrah another Brigitte mystery solved! Taking the yellow bungs out of the six cells of the battery revealed a distinct lack of water in all of the cells. First stop tomorrow, Monday, will be to get some distilled water in the hope that the battery is salvable. Let us hope so as it is a one hundred and thirty five amp hour beast that will not be a cheap replacement.
Our mini spring clean also involved unfurling the awning for the first time this year. The sun is out in full force today and so having the awning out provides welcome shade. Taking note of the, mostly Dutch, people around us baring almost all to the sun, I have a sense that they must wonder why we keep in the shade so much!
Mid morning saw an exodus of people moving onwards. By mid-afternoon new people were arriving on site and one or two provided some amusement. A French fellow and his wife arrived in a Ford Mondeo towing a caravan. Driving smartly into the pitch that they had selected they then spent time extricating the car. As there was no way through and out via the pitch behind them, they chose to unhook the van and then to try to squeeze the car past the van. Mr had a couple of goes and gave up. He then manhandled the van into the space that the car had occupied and so ended up with two vehicles almost side by side. Mrs took her turn at the wheel of the car and managed to extricate it. This done they tried to move the caravan again by manhandling it but couldn’t get it to where they wanted it and so gave up! Since then Mr has been erecting an awning. One hopes that they plan to stay for more than just the one night so that they may enjoy the benefit of all of their hard work.
This site seems to appeal to Dutch campers in the way that Aquarius, in Spain, appeals to German campers. A couple walk up through and determine their pitch of choice. In time they reappear with a gleaming large Volvo estate pulling a new dinky little caravan bearing pieces of chequer plate, a chromed jerry can and the name Tuareg. What is most amusing is that this little van is fitted with a remote control moving system so that in minutes the van is uncoupled and positioned effortlessly on the pitch in a way that will, if Monsieur is watching, have our French friend spitting feathers.
All afternoon I have been listening, on and off, to someone at play in the woods. I can hear the thump of an engine, of what I take to be a motorcross bike. He or they are clearly going around some sort of circuit because the engine tone changes. Perhaps there is a club meeting or manybe a group of friends are out having fun in the woods like Jez and his buddies? Off to our left a young couple are in the middle of setting up their tent when mum is called upon to do a nappy change. Dad carried on springing tent poles together. Daughter is now up on her feet and determined to lend a hand. With a little encouragement from dad and mum, daughter is pushing the first tent pole into its pocket. Having got the idea, poles two and three are worked home. Camping is great fun! Especially when the sun is shining. Niki disagrees, restating her preference for sleeping in Brigitte to being under canvas.
For supper Niki prepares sweet and sour pork with rice. A reprise of the dish we had enjoyed a few days ago. Whilst Niki was doing this I was removing the Sony radio/cd/mp3 unit that I had bought and attempted to fit in the front panel. In my eyes it will serve us better to have the unit in the rear of the van so that we can have music or amplify whatever source we wish when we are using the van. For on the road music we shall probably prefer to use the Peugeot badged radio/cd unit which is quite a nice piece of Blaupunkt made kit.
I intend to locate the Sony in the locker with the dvd and the digital decoder. First I want to see if I can get a pod unit for it to fit into. If not I may make up some sort of fascia in which to mount it. Having swapped out the radio units I then set to to remove the speaker cables that Len had run to the dash panel from the two rear speakers that he had installed in the overhead locker. The speakers will be the initial work horses for our rear area sound system.
It was time to have a play with the cello tv. Last night I had noted that it has an RS232 socket and so I dug out the RS232 lead that I have bought for the Raspberry Pi and used it and an audio lead to connect the computer to the tv. Using VLC as the player I knew that the sound output from the computer would be better. The combination worked a treat and we sat down and watched, for the first time, the full length video of “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs”. This had been Jacob’s favourite soother last summer. Whenever Sarah played the you tube clips, that she had downloaded on her phone, Jacob was in thrall of the music, the colours and the crazy antics. It would have been great to have had them here with us tonight. Perhaps, when we get to Cornwall, we shall have a chance to reprise our first fortnight with Sarah and Jacob in Brigitte?
Monday 3 June 2013. Day 21.
Three full weeks have elapsed since we set off from Paphos to Gerona to collect Brigitte from her winter storage place. In that time we have dealt with a defective main battery. Resolved the engine running problems that had, at first, seemed like a major problem with potential huge costs attaching. We had been to visit Paul in Barcelona. We have visited Kirpal and Andrew in Ponsan-Soubiran. We have seen Palau Guell in Barcelona, Montserrat, the Pyrenees, Isle sur la Sorgue, Oppede le Vieux, Saignon, and markets in Gordes and Apt. We know our way around many supermarkets having been there in search of foodstuffs and sundry items. We have taken hundreds of photographs and done our best to keep in touch with family and friends. It has been, as it almost always is, a whirlwind. It has also been tremendous fun. I can’t think of anyone who I would rather be “on the road” with than my wife Niki.
Late last evening we produced a plan for the next three days and so today we are taking a ride on the scooter to Lourmarin down a picturesque valley. Niki is recovering faster than I seemed to do. Great news and a day out sightseeing will do us both no end of good. The weather is delightful as we prepare to set off. Heading uphill and then across country we encounter fragrant wafts which when we later see swathes of yellow broom make the connection. The scent is akin to the honey we are currently enjoying at breakfast. Happy days indeed!
The descent into Lourmarin seemed familar and when we spotted the Chateau we both agreed that we had stopped here with the Goldwing. On that day our route was blocked by a road traffic collision. We had been diverted down the road which ultimately leads to the Chateau. We had stopped and had a coffee or something at one of the many cafes. Today we parked the scooter and set off on foot to explore more of Lourmarin. A charming town lay in wait for us. Every bit as aged and charming as the village ‘perches’ that have so come to dominate the perception of this area, Lourmarin is on the valley floor at the start / finish of the ascent / descent of what is the major crossing point between the exterior and interior of the Luberon.
We met Roland in what seems to be the epicentre of life in Lourmarin, a not quite square, not quite central, very pleasant hub. Two cafes fill all of the available pavement space with tables and chairs and depending upon the colour of the furniture you sit upon, you will be served by the staff from that establishment. If there is competition, it seems friendly. But back to Roland. Our meanderings along the side streets had brought us down into the ‘hub’ and there in his purple loafers, white cotton top and purple scarf affair was Roland getting ever so slightly grimy, polishing up a wooden piece that he had recently been sanding back and distressing. Roland has lived everywhere, Ecuador, Japan, Hong Kong, Miami, France, Mexico the list goes on and on. Quite what he did before agreeing to rent his shop space from his landlord, I have no idea. He says that he was here writing a book but that he felt the need to do something different and this articles of interest business is what he has created. Two weeks into it, he is thrilled with the response. I wondered how long he would contine and Roland foresaw no reason to be doing anything else, a world filled with things that he had bought because he likes them and hopes that people who visit will also like them enough to want to buy them.
As a footnote to Roland I recall the distressed table and chairs I had spotted further back up the lanes that gave onto the hub. €150 for a battered oops, characterful, table… show the love people, show the love!
From Qui, Roland’s store, we crossed the street and occupied a table in the shade, to have a coffee. Coffee became lunch. A great day out in a small French town in the sunshine – quality.
Earlier whilst walking up *** street, a French woman who enjoyed talking to English speaking tourists had pointed out two side streets which she said were of some interest. We had walked one in the morning and decided to reconoitre the second after lunch. It was whilst repassing *** street that we encountered Jean Francois Savornin.
Monsieur Savornin is a seventy year old former horse trekking, Namaste shop chain owning, guitar playing, French country music singing, painter with works on display in the Museum of St Petersburg, world traveller; overall a fascinating character and such a pleasure to meet and chat with for perhaps half an hour. Niki was looking at the trinkets and clothes in his store. He is another of these people who, in February and March heads off to India, Mumbai and Jaipur, to buy clothes, fashioned in his designs and also to have jewellery made and stones cut and polished. Jean says that the Jaiins are the people in India who control most of the precious stone cutting market.
We went to look for the commercial area of the town, thinking that there must surely be one, somewhere were people go to buy basic comestibles, get their hair cut, buy a newspaper and such like but didn’t locate it in the new quarter. The new quarter is home to the tourist information office, a cafe, a tourist shop and a pharmacy with one of those flashing neon signs that seem to be standard in France. New is frankly disappointing compared to the old.
It was time to wend our way back to Brigitte via Intermarche in Apt. The winding road up to the top of the Col de *** a climb to ***metres had the scooter working flat out all of the way. I expect she was glad to rest at the set of traffic lights we were stopped at about one third of the way up. The local roadmen had been at work tearing out and repairing a concrete gulley on a narrowish bridge. At four in the afternoon I had expected them to have been packed up and away but they were still there, at it. The traffic lights not only caught us. They also caught the silver car that had darted past us a couple of kilometres back, ha, ha. There was also a group of cyclists who were presumably riding back to Apt having come up and over the coll at some earlier time during the day. I hadn’t thought before but perhaps Monday 3 June this year is a public holiday in France?
This evening, I sat in Brigitte with the laptop whirring, the maps of Northern France open and with Uncle Eddie’s story of Bob’s War to hand, the picture of my grandfather’s involvement in the French aspect of the Great War is starting to crystallise. Eddie has circled the four distinct phases of Bob’s French experiences. Part one describes his arrival, part two deals with his time , part three looks at and part four covers.
When you know that the History of the Grand Guerre is located at Peronne, where Bob was deployed, you know that he was ‘in the thick of it’. The Battle of the Somme started on 1 July 1916. It became memorable for many things: ‘La Grand Mine’ – the subject of Sebastien Faulks “Birdsong” was reputedly the single largest explosion of non-nuclear ordnance. It is said that it was heard in London. A claim that I would doubt until I visit the site or have other corroboration. Corroborative evidence on a French campsite deep in Provence with no internet access is hard to obtain (after dark). In any event I want to go there and witness the scene today with my own eyes.
The Devons detrained at Corbie on 30 August and from there marched to Franvillers before being bussed to the countryside around the recently captured village of Bouchavesnes. On 1 September at 2300 hours they relieve the 58th London Division taking over trenches to the east of Bouchavesnes in preparation for an attack they were to make on Moislains the following morning at 0530. What was supposed to be a simple matter turned into a serious affair over four days, as the Germans who were not supposed to be there fought determinedly bringing down heavy fire and gas shelling. Bob may have been amongst the casualties as at some stage in the battles he was gassed. It is not known how severely he was injured but the damage affected him from time to time, albeit not seriously, for the rest of his life.
On the night of 4 September the 229th Brigade was relieved…. It was time for bed, we have a seven o’clock start tomorrow.
Tuesday 4 June 2013. Day 22.
Today is Lenee’s second birthday and Mary will be with the family to celebrate. We are up at seven, boiling water for tea and then filling our two flasks in anticipation of the road trip later in the day. Last night Niki had a night disturbed by coughing fits, her cold is fast clearing. After breakfast we shall pack up the van and move to off-site parking before heading out to Buoux for the first part of the day.
Breakfast over I take the scooter and drive the one and a half miles up the hill to Saignon and park up. Walking back down hill is a lovely experience, the sun warming things, people out and about wondering who is this walking stranger. Twenty minutes or so later I’m back with Niki and after unhooking we fire up Brigitte and pull out. Ahead of us as we enter Saignon a huge lorry towing a trailer with a heavy roller onboard could either be broken down or the driver has stopped to speak with a colleague. It is the latter, after a minute or so he moves off and pulls onto the same parking area as us. We park up and leave him to unload his roller. The scooter ride to Buoux is in many ways a reprise of the journey to Lourmain except that today we have just over a quarter of a tank of fuel and there are no fuel stations in the countryside! I decide to drive the scooter gently. Half throttle is good for thirty miles an hour whereas at full throttle she screams her head off to achieve forty five!
I recall something of the trip on the Goldwing when we came upon the isolated parking spot for Buoux Fort. I can see why I did not want to park the bike here, loaded with all of our possessions, as we trekked up to the Fort. It would have been paradise for anyone who might have wished to filch stuff and I had no idea whether that was a risk that had a high or low probability of being realised.
Today we left the scooter with nothing visible and set off to scale the heights. The resultant shin splints are with me still two and a half days later! Also it has to be said is the memory of the adventure we had discovering aspects of the fortifications after we had payed our €4 entrance fee to the gate guardienne.
You don’t expect to find a topographer surveying a ruined fort but this is what we found. Setting up her kit, with a cable dangling down over the cliff to a far distant power supply a German? woman was surveying the location to create a base line recording. It seems that there is work underway to restore the Fort and so having a baseline means that discoveries and changes can be recorded for the future.
We climbed on and encountered what I suspect were marker tabs on rocks that had been surveyed. Then we met a party of army personnel who were hard at it clearing rocks, hacking out tree roots and the like. Further on we came across a chap who looked like a civillian perhaps the project manager for the works on site?
Wednesday 5 June 2013. Day 23.
I awoke early and determined to get on with making tea, boiling water for flasks etc. Dad has his seventy seventh birthday today and so it was great to hear his voice when I made a skype call. Mum apparently was in the shower and dad was readying himself to take Lady for a walk. Good timing indeed. With the weather being good in Cornwall, dad spoke of the Royal Cornwall Show starting tomorrow and good weather forecast for the three day event.
Dad planned to spend most of his day in the garden, perhaps painting the chalet which he says needs doing. Wishing him and mum love we ended our call. By just after nine, Niki and I were on the road heading into and through Manosque to find the L’Occitane factory. The largest local employer. The ‘going to work traffic’ heading into Manosque reminded me of what being an employee means and of how fortunate we are to not have to face a daily commute. We arrived at L’Occitane almost on time and there were a crowd of people in the museum area. Our guide for our tour found us and after a few minutes wait for a couple of people who were ‘no shows’, we set off on the factory tour.
The history of how the company was started in 1976 by Oliver Baussan when he bought an old still for the scrap value of the copper it contained and set about making a batch of rosemary and lavender based cosmetics which he then sold at local markets had me in awe. He had been a student of literature immersed in his local culture, hence he named the company L’Occitane in recognition of the women of the Occitania historical region. Today the company has achieved a global presence with over 2,250 shops spread across five continents. Incidentally, the first shop outside of France was opened in Hong Kong. They have an innovation laboratory where the produce over two hundred and fifty new product ideas every year, on average one every working day. They employ around seven hundred people at Manosque. A French success story from the vision and passion of one man who to this day is instrumental in the design of packaging for each new item they add to their range. Of note is the recent company acquisition, another French firm making an organic product named Melvita.
The industrial aspects of production were driving the expansion of the factory with new reactor vessels being installed that no longer require a lid to be lifted in order to introduce raw materials. The new reactors are inverted and aspire the ingredients on a computer controlled system which means much less manual handling and no work at height. These batches can be made in quantity from a test batch of two? tonnes right up to one hundred? tonnes of the fastest moving lines. Their hand cream sells globally, at the rate of one tube every three seconds!
Their attention to detail with regard to the purity and safety of their products is admirable. As was the English presentation we received from our tour guide, Audrey. A charming young woman, she took time to answer our questions as well as to deliver her informative talk.
The tour ended in the Factory shop where Niki and I both bought a few items. With a ten percent discount off of some really lovely cosmetics one would be a fool not to have bought! It is funny that I have, for some time, admired the brand and occassionally bought their products, generally as presents I think. So it was well worth finding time to find out more about L’Occitane while we are here in Provence.
At the front of the factory, they are creating a beautiful space filled with planting where in a venture with two local entrepreneurs they have permitted to be set up a coffee and cakes outlet based around a bright yellow, electrically powered tuk tuk. The man with the idea for the tuk tuk coffee and cakes venture is a former wine seller Antonin?? who together with his Thai wife Gin? had the tuk tuk built in Thailand, the electric engine comes from Holland and the bodywork and equipment was added here in France. They plan to have more of these vehicles but have found it hard to convince companies to grant them working space – L’Occitane was a breakthrough for them some three months ago! We chatted about Cyprus, the camping car and that we had been to Thailand. Their home town here in France is a famous spa town and we were encouraged to come and visit them when we pass through the region next.
Back on the road in Brigitte we wound our way across Manosque and up into the high country. We were going to Banon to visit the bookstore Librairie le Bleuet and also to buy sausage and cheese from Melchio’s a reknowned sausage connosieur. Both shops were their own version of Aladdin’s cave. The bookstore is on four levels across probably two interconnected buildings. They also have a new warehouse on the outskirts of town. Both buildings have strong visual indicators which point to the fact that the owner of the bookstore is a former carpenter, see my photos! Inside the bookshop I was keen to see if I could find any detailed maps of the Somme. I bought two Michelin maps at a scale that would be useful to get us to where I wanted to be. I decided that I could get the walking maps if and when they might add something to our visit. Perhaps after going to the Museum of La Grande Guerre in Peronne?
Leaving Banon was a trial, Siobhan wanted us to go up a street that seemed to me very narrow, very vertiginous and to be going into the heart of the old town. I would not go there. We circled around a couple of times with Niki thumbing through the map book. I decided to drive out of town and head right at the first major cross-roads, a forced decision. We knew we were heading to Die pronounced dee. This was a recommendation from the Yorkshireman who had parked his caravan next to us at Camping Le Luberon, he had said that Die was on his bucket list. From a man of a similar age to my father and an ex RAF Policeman at that I took this to be a solid recommend, certainly worth a look as we head North!
He had told me about a region of France that was completely new to both of us – the Drome. We wound our way along the edges of a gorge, stopping for a cuppa and to take some photos of a spot where several people were also enjoying the views and exploring. Then we were off for the final stages of today’s travels. High up in mountainous country, glimpsing, in June, snowy peaks and ahead dark foreboding skies across which the occassional flash of lightning could be seen. **Route details** As we got closer to Die the weather worsened until we first saw damp roads, these gave way to wet and puddled roads until we had to have the wipers on as we drove through heavy rainfall. Our planned stopover site in Die was ‘Camping Complet’ and so at five to seven in the evening, I pushed Niki out of the warmth of the van to go there to enquire which of the other local sites we might find accommodation. The lady there was charming and helpful, would not accept payment for the phone call and directed us to Camping ****. The site owner helped us set up and hook up on a level pitch near the sanitaires. He reassured me that, if needed, he could pull Brigitte out in the morning but that he did not think that a tow would be necessary. I hope that he is right. We shall see!
The site has a lively restaurant where we decided to have supper. Niki opting for lamb chops and I a rib eye steak. The food was passably good, the meat was flavourful but somewhat chewy. We chatted for quite sometime with Jean, a Dutch guy and his wife who have been coming here for a few years because their sons love to come here, having made friends with the similarly aged children of the restaurant proprietors. Jean works in social services in Amsterdam where he says they never meet their clients, all of the contact is transacted online. He travels in from his home by train, they don’t have the commuter pressures that London endures he says. Living in an area of reclaimed land seems to be his biggest criticism along with the lack of housing and job opportunities for the young. His wife is a volunteer in their local two bed hospice. It seems that some sixty five volunteers run the hospice, nursing staff come in to deal with all of the clinical needs of their clients. Bed spaces are typically allocated to people in their last months of life if I correctly understood what this lady was telling me. One of the great things about travelling around is talking with people and finding common interests and also discovering new things. We have done a bit of that today, as well as touching base with dad and planning to visit where grandpa Renals fought for his life in Haig’s war of attrition with Germany.
Thursday 6 June 2013. Day 24.
We awoke to a cool sunny morning. The railway line passes close by and I heard a train and wondered what must it be like to take the train through this scenery? Something to do in the future?
Beside me in bed as I type up my blog, Niki is reading Olive and Oil a cook book that she bought yesterday in Banon. It is now after eight and the sun is high enough in the sky to be streaming through the roof light and onto my face. I’m excited by the adventure that we will have travelling North, we will wind our way through the mountains to see what my Yorkshire friend was talking about. Thereafter we shall head up towards Vienne and perhaps beyond Lyon.
I spent time online seeking to find out more about the road that I intended to take. An article on a site called the world’s most dangerous roads has me seriously doubting the wisdom of our intended route. In fact I went as far as to say to Niki that we would not go that way this time and instead we would favour the more major route.
By a quirk of design at this site, the electricity points are locked. In order to disconnect my lead I had to go off in search of the site owner Marcel. When I found him he said “J’attend” and in a few minutes cycled across to unlock the cabinet before disconnecting my lead. Thanking him for our stay, I chanced to ask him about the crossing of the Col with a camping car. His reassurance was complete – “No problem!”. This was all that I needed to hear.
First gear engaged and we set off. From a height of four hundred and fourteen metres above sea level we would wind our way up hairpin bends to the top of the Col de Rousset at a height of some twelve hundred and fifty seven metres. On our way up we stopped several times, admiring the view and taking photographs. It was after one of these stops that I felt a call of nature and decided that as the French happily relieve themselves at the roadside, I would have a pee. Standing beside the backwheel of Brigitte I was mid-stream when I caught sight of what I thought was an eagle lazily soaring overhead. I finished up my pee and called Niki and grabbed the camera and our longest lens.
We spent a few blissful minutes watching this bird occassional flap its wings, once, then glide and glide. Niki was so excited that she even agreed that I should purchase a 400mm lens to improve our chances of getting better bird photos! A little later we stopped at another higher vantage point. Sadly we could see no birds here but there was a notice board which explained that what we had witnessed was not an eagle but a vulture. If it was indeed a vulture this has to be a first for us both. Whatever bird it was, it was a magnificent specimen. Others were in the air far off but this one had flown over at a very opportune moment!
If my Yorkshire pal of a few hours reads this he will know what we witnessed by way of scenery and I now know why he said that is area is on his bucket list. Enjoy my friend, enjoy, and thank you for sharing!
You are probably wondering why, if I could drive Brigitte up and over this coll, it deserves a ranking in the world’s most treacherous roads? I think that for the most part it has to do with a section of the road that is now closed to vehicles. That section has very tight bends and also has height restricted arches carved into the rockface. Today I saw the start of the old route as we were approaching the tunnel entrance. The tunnel, a modern affair, is wide enough to provide two lanes of traffic for the largest of vehicles. I photographed a fuel tanker wending its way up and over the Coll pulling a drag trailer behind itself. There was also an articulated lorry and a coach that we met so reader you can see that Maurice’s endorsement of this route was totally justified and we had a magical experience, just because the electricity cabinet at our second choice site in Die was locked!
The run down into Pont Rom was easier driving. When we got there it was a place built for midget vehicles. Quite a sizable place but narrow streets down to inaccessible places – like parking (with a helpful sign camping car access interdit – what fool would even try to get a camping car down there? It was wide enogh perhaps for a donkey cart!) To cap it all there were road resurfacing works going on at the far end of the one way main street!! and we were both ready for a lunch stop. Well we got through it and out the other side with a couple of hiccoughs about which was the correct road to take. Before long we were barrelling down levelish country roads looking for our lunch stop. We found a lake and pulled off of the road. It wasn’t quite picture postcard. Road repairs seemed to be the order of the day today as a lorry carrying asphalt came into the car parking area and two men hopped out and proceeded to pour the asphalt into any obvious hollows. No preparation, no firming down, apart of the occasional tap with the back of the shovel that the more diligent of the two would give some of his efforts. This litle vignette precisely illustrates the state of road repairs across Europe it seems. The high costs of low cost labour, equipment – lorry ,shovels and material are virtually wasted in the token efforts made to keep the roads just about useable. Real re-surfacing like that witnessed in Pont R is so expensive that any manager who wants to protect a likely pitiful budget will choose to patch knowing that s/he will have a job and so will the crews doing the work. Presumably in the hope that one day the economy and the budget for repairs will be restored. In the meantime mechanics are having a nice little earner doing the work to replace damaged suspension joints and shock absorbers whenever a driver (and there are plenty of us) who fails to spot a pot hole that should properly have been repaired before the whole road bed became a damaging damaged mess.
Lyon, a dash up a stretch of autoroute had Brigitte singing
Friday 7 June 2013. Day 25.
What magic a wonderful night of sleep can do! I feel so refreshed. This is good news as we shall be moving on again today seeking to get closer to Normandy and the tunnel. But first we will stop off in Chalone-sur-Saone to visit a museum created in honour of Nepiece, honoured as the creator of photography. There has been a long running debate about who might be entitled to wear this honour. Whether Nepiece or Fox Talbot does not really both me – those two are names amongst a group of pioneers who brought about one of the best aspects of recording technology in their day.
We breakfast on our pitch at our overnight stop, pack up and by the time we get away it looks like we shall have about an hour at the museum before their morning session ends and the staff there troop off for lunch. Just before we get into Chalone sur Saone we pass through a village where there is a huge stone monument to Nepiece and also a private museum. We do not stop simply noting it for the future perhaps. Chalone is a charming large town / city. The museum is in a prominent large house on a main riverside road. Parking is nearly impossible even when we find the parking that is reserved for camping cars. Some lorry drivers have used the camping car spaces and we are forced to shoehorn Brigitte onto a spot that a car would typically use. We manage to leave enogh room for pedestrians to pass by and hurry off to the Museum.
The interior of the museum provided a spacious number of rooms many given over to the broad history of photography. There is one room in which Nepiece work is explored. His role in collaborating with Daguerre is mentioned. The draw back with the museum is that the items are catalogued and generally described in French. Some large panels include English translations but there is no English guide or note available for the tour.
It felt like a bit of a let down, then I remembered that it was free to enter, I’d have preferred to pay something and have had useful information. I wonder though, how well Lacock would serve a French speaker?
We set off in search of fuel as Brigitte is now on reserve. On the Northern side of the town there is a large L’Eclerc which we head for. With heigh barriers set at three point one metres we gingerly enter the store parking area. Driving through the large car park we eventually find the fuel station is located on another site across a road. This involves exiting the car park under yet another height barrier and finally entering the fuel station under a third height barrier. Getting out of the hypermarket carpark was as easy as getting in. You’ve probably guessed that the barrier to the fuel station despite saying that it is set at three point one metres was lower. Brigitte stands at two point nine five metres tall – I say she is three metres high as a convenient easily remembered number. That would allow for ten centimetres, not a massive amount but sufficient for us to ease under the barrier. The clonk I heard as we inched in said light contact had been made. Fuming, I drove into a refuelling bay, another challenge as they have high curbs designed to keep you in the lane that you have selected. These things are fine for cars of average length but very unfriendly to seven metre long vans! As we fuelled I spotted that the canopy over the pay booth was set even lower than the canopy over the pumps – a design triumph – not! Fortunately I had managed to get us to a pay-at-the-pump island which did not require a visit to the cashier. We would not have made it under that canopy and reversing out of the station would have become a total nighmare. As it was we faced going under the to low barrier yet again but had no choice.
Clearing Chalone became like taking a breath of fresh air. We were away and on decent roads with good views and sunshine.
Our destination was Chaource, a small agricultural town with an aire de camping that provides an electricity hook up.
Saturday 8 June 2013. Day 26.
Awake at just before six I am keen to get us onto the electricity hook up. Our jeton, a token to be used as payment for the electricity, will give us one hour of supply. Time enough we hope to prepare breakfast, heat water for our flasks and also to get some cool going in the fridge/freezer that has stood overnight without power.
Sunday 9 June 2013. Day 27.
We awoke to the sound of rainfall on the roof hatch. Both of us thanking our good sense in bringing in our washing. Six and a half kilos of clothing which we had washed yesterday afternoon had all just about blown dry on the line we had erected between two trees on the border of our plot.
Later this afternoon we would find ourselves sitting in the van, reading or researching on line, with clothes draped about and the little portable electric fan heater heating our space and drying the last of our clothes into the bargain!
Determined to make the best use of our time and a working internet connection we set about messaging people with news of our adventure to date. I spent time researching World War 1 and in particular Peronne, which had been occupied by the Germans for some considerable time but by the time Bob got there had been taken by the Allies. From the record that Uncle Edd has assembled the Devons had some hard encounters especially at Moislains where they found the Germans in force. Following in Bob’s footsteps is still slightly in the future and my research then took me to the Museum of the Great War, Château de Péronne, 80200, Péronne – which just so happens to be the French Museum of the Great War. The Chateau was made a site of historic significance because, I believe, of its significance in the Great War.
A little later I decided that enrolling on the Great War Forum. There is much more information here than I can hope to make use of before I get going. It seems that the subject is one that has captured the attention of many people and once again the internet is bringing people together to share knowledge and experience for the common good.
In the later afternoon we venture out of our hot, stuffy van to take a walk around the campsite. There are a large number of residential caravans and wooden chalets here. Some have immaculate gardens. Some show signs of having been well used and are now in need of repair. It is odd to think that none of this would have been here one hundred years ago. It is most likely that this space was then a field or an enclosure of some sort.
Walking up into the village I note that there are very few buildings that pre-date 1914 – 18. Of those that do, the church is in a sad state. Quite why it has become so delapidated, apart from the obvious lack of use and money reasons, I cannot suggest. The exterior walls of the church show hints of war with great gouges taken out of the limestone. Here and there I spot tell tale marks that suggest the impact of heavy calibre munitions.
We walk back to the van as the rain starts up. It is time for a glass of pastis and then supper. Niki concocts a delicious dish of chicken with lime on a bed of potato and spinach. A triumph considering that she only has one hob on which to cook such a feast. Our washing by now has dried and we start to take down the clothes that have festooned the interior of the van.
When we turn in for the night we hope for better weather tomorrow but have the comfort of knowing that a visit to a museum can easily be accomplished in wet or dry weather.
Monday 10 June 2013. Day 28.
To get to Peronne in time for the ten am opening of the museum is our goal. Siobhan informs us that we have an hour and thirty minutes driving ahead of us as we set off from Halte De Mainville. Quite why we didn’t make our depature time and consequently our arrival time is not recorded. We did though arrive late morning and found the whole experience to be deeply moving. The balance of the exhibits seem to ensure that no one side was praised above any other. Learning of events leading up to 1914 was especially illuminating.
Why France if a Serbian has shot a German? Further research is needed!
Two hours we spent in the company of memorabilia, uniforms and artifacts of the era. I was deeply affected by the machine guns. The Lewis gun that Bob used with sufficient skill and strength to save lives including his own. The German machine guns that spat a hail of six hundred rounds per minute into the Tommies as they walked across no man’s land to their death in monumental numbers.
My camera will I hope hold photos that will prod my memory in the weeks and months to come. A couple of books that I bought at the bookshop should help fill in more details.
I mention arriving at our overnight stop. The person in charge seems very agreeable. The site could use a deep clean and perhaps some cash invested in up dating the facilities. There was a moment of consternation whilst I was perched at a bench trying to access the internet. Our host emerged from the sanitaires with a man who could have been drunk. The language was loud and choice and the unknown man was ushered away.
We shopped at Intermarche and bought a portable gas bbq. Not bad considering we only went for an onion and some parsley and they had neither! With the scooter re-fuelled we zoomed off into the countryside to visit the places where Bob was in action. We found two small rural villages with memorials to their own dead. We found cemetries and churches that had very obviously been built as part of a programme of reconstruction.
Back at the van I was a real stressed Eric. I don’t know why. I just know that that is how I was. Ughh.
Tuesday 11 June 2013. Day 29.
Yesterday afternoon when we pulling onto the Camping Municipal in Peronne we met Terry and Joanna in their massive eight plus metre Frankia A class motorhome. Terry, bless him, was kind enough to insist that we have his unused six kg propane cylinder to replace our empty. €12 and we had a supply of gas at last – hurrah!
We didn’t see much of them after that because we were out and about with the scooter until late into the evening. But this morning before leaving site we went to say cheerio and an hour long, wide ranging conversation and van inspection session took place. They had used the Frankia as a mobile shop from which to conduct their Classic Car parts business, they used to travel from show to show selling bits for Brit Classics built between 1963 and 1974 (not sure of the exact dates) Their supersize van has a colossal awning with sides and a front that slot in and the garage held their stock beneath the double bed that could be raised or lowered to suit storage or other needs. The other cool Frankia feature is a door that pivots to provide full screening to the en-suite or simply encloses the toilet area? The company hold a patent for the idea apparently.
Lovely people who also enjoy long boating from near where they live in Solihul. One more mention about gas. Their van has a built in system which runs on two 13 kg cylinders with an onboard refilling set up so they go to any continental LP gas filling point and refill their gas as and when needed. This is an idea that we need to folow up on.
We left site and about fifty metres up the road stopped at a monument to war dead. This will be the pattern for the day I now know. Following the Peronne to Albert “Souvenir Route” we pass through many of the major battle sites and their consequent memorials and cemeteries. French, German, British, New Zealand, Newfoundland, Canadian, South African, Irish, Scottish, they are all, as well as others, here represented in stone, wood and neatly mown lanws.
It is hard at one hundred years distance to understand the thinking which underpinned decisions that sent so many men to their death either in a hail of machine gun fire or by being torn apart by the shrapnel of exploding ordnance thrown around by artillery. If this were not bad enough if the advancing troups should get into the German trenches then it was hand to hand combat using the bayonet, a cudgel or rifle butt in a grim fight to the death. A war of ultimate attrition run on an industrial scale fought upon the fields and in the villages of France.
I feel that today I have witnessed more names carved into limestone or cast into metal plates to be affixed to tombstones than I would otherwise have wished to see. Visiting Thiepval, a village levelled by the actions of the combatants, now home to a huge, impressive, Lutyens designed memorial to the missing soldiers has probably put the icing on that cake. Huge pillars covered on all accessible sides with the details of those who were listed as missing, the numbers run to thousands. In the safes where normally one finds one register there were many thick volumes of names and details. Talking about what we were witnessing, Niki and I agreed that having the name of a family member etched into stone on a memorial close to where he, they were virtually all he’s, was obliterated provides some form of closure. However the clerical precision that lists names which arrived “late” as Addenda seems very British and very, very stilted.
That Bob chose not to talk about the events that he was a part of is unsurprising, this place was hell on earth. Today in complete contrast the Somme is a charming rural idyll with a dark history!
At the end the returning troups to their eternal credit said that they did not wish to be honoured and that memorials should be erected to the fallen who had bravely given their all.
The start of the big push was to have been synchronised for seven thirty on 1 July 1917, however one mine was detonated two minutes before hand as a reward to those who had helped create it. The delay between blowing the mine and the signal to advance was to prove costly as in the two minutes that followed the German troops had a chance to gather their wits and respond.
I seem to recall from somewhere in the dim and distant past that Somme farmers know how deep to plough their land. They know that if their ploughs go a few millimetres too deep they start to uncover things that are better left covered. Annually some forty seven tonnes of aged explosives are dealt with by explosives ordnance experts. At Beaumont-Hamel and the nearby Lochnagar Crater that distorts the landscape of La Boiselle there are warning signs that tell of the dangers of unexploded ordnance that is still believed to lie in the ground around these preserved sites. As Lochnagar is now the only crater accessible to the public we should hope that people observe the signs and also that there are no unfortunate occurrences. A happy discovery at Lochnagar lead to the identification of the remains of 22/1306 Pte George Nugent of the Tyneside Scottish Nothumberland fusiliers who went missing in action 1 July 1916 and was found at a spot close to the rim of the crater on 31 Oct 1998. He was laid to rest at Ovilliers Military Cemetery on 1 July 2000.
The crater was the last site that we chose to visit today, at a little before seven pm we made our way onto the camping municipale in Albert. Albert was a hub for both the Germans and then the Allies and as a consequence bore the brunt of heavy bombardment. The campsite seems well eqipped and is also part of the ACSI scheme. As a place to lay a weary head Albert meets our every requirement. Supper, baked beans and bacon coupled with scrambled egg went down a treat aided as it was by a chilled bottle of rose that has done more miles in this van than I care to think about.