The road trip in numbers

11 Countries
11.5 Weeks
82 Days
4,620 Miles
29 Fuel stops
28 Mpg
£280 on Road tolls
30 Campsites stayed in
1,123 Photos taken
4 Languages spoken
36 Bottles of spring water consumed
0.75 Gas bottles used (11kg)
43 Chocolate bars eaten
22 Viewings of Toy Story 2
18 Viewings of Toy Story 3
86 Episodes of Fireman Sam
34 Beer brands tasted
7 Water slides ridden
28 Swings ridden by Barney
6 Swimming pools Barney jumped into
23 Beaches visited
10 Sandcastles constructed
4 Police altercations
2 Near misses
1 Bike purchased
1 Bike donated to locals
0 Hole in ground toilets used
22 Espressos drunk
3 haircuts
6 Attempts at flying a kite
0 Success in flying a kite.
0 Surf lessons
22 Ice creams eaten
0 Ice creams dropped
30 Ice pops consumed
82 Times we’ve said “I like it here”
5 Times we’ve said “let’s go home”

Country 10: France PART DEUX

Following our trip to the Cote D’Azur, we escaped towards the south west of France.

Narbonnes / Gruissan
From the little we saw of it -
Weird. A retreat for the retired. Nuff said.

Dordogne – Sarlat
Simply stunning. Like a picturesque Cotswold stone village, plonked comfortably on French soil, a welcoming retreat in the dordogne. Allegedly the oldest town in the region, there was stunning architecture, magnificent restaurants and lots of street entertainment.

We meandered around the town, doing the usual – buying tins of babymilk powder, a tablecloth for Bertie, and the obligatory postcard. We also indulged in local produce for our lunch – foie gras, duck confit and cake (3 separate courses, in case you wandered). Nicely washed down with a cold beer.

As Barney had his afternoon nap in the pushchair, we wondered through the cobbled streets, aghast at the 50 foot high full length doors on the indoor market, admiring work of local artists and watched a spray painter producing canvasses whilst drowning the street with hip hop. Very French youth.

As the temperature soared to 35 (C) we decided to head back to the campsite for a dip. The local bus service did us proud – a comedy little bus – that was prompt, empty and had some air conditioning. At least it meant that we got to see some of the local area on the short journey back to Bertie.

Ile d’Oleron.
St George – drove through and missed it. Didn’t appear to be much to it.

Cyclists – but on the narrow roads not cycle paths.

A large island so everything is spread out – really need a car.

Nearest village to the campsite was a 5 km cycle ride. The ride was relatively flat, but there was nothing to it. Our destination, the harbour of La Collinge, was a disappointment. It was rather ‘chav’ with shops simply selling tat. We have obviously been affected by the Cote D’Azur.

D’Oleron is allegedly the poor cousin of Re, just along the coast. We will find out and let you know.

Ile de Re
Wow. Don’t come here without a bike, or without hiring one. The cycle tracks are incredible. My regret is not having a basket with picnic rug, French cheeses and a bottle of wine and stopping en route to Ars. It was idyllic.

Ars is a lovely seaside town. Very French architecture. They’ve tried to retain their own style, which says ‘beachside holiday homes’. Think Padstow in Cornwall, and you’ll have a feel for the place. lots of shuttered windows.

Lovely restaurants on the harbour edge, an outdoor and indoor market selling local produce. Art galleries and shops selling homewares. Very nice indeed.

The flat and smooth cycle routes took us through oyster, muscle and salt fields. The outlook was fantastic, even better for not having cars around you keeping you on edge. It feels very safe.

La Courade close to our campsite was another little gem. Stunning (though very expensive) homes with a peaceful high street occupied by local bijou shops. It felt far away from chav. We were further enchanted when we discovered the amazing sandy beach on the edge of the village. Wow. We will be visiting here again.

Finally, St Martin, the island’s capital. Wow. Re beats D’Oleron on every front – the towns, beaches and cycle routes.

La Rochelle
We were dropped off by the park and relay bus straight into the city centre, next to the harbour. Picked a map up from the tourist information and commenced a mapped tour of the city. Incredible.

Old town – boutiques, shutters and artisan cholateries. Monumental towers either side of the harbour entrance. Stopped for a beer. Lovely.

French food – moules frites and the profiteroles de maison. The profiteroles contained a gorgeous vanilla ice cream rather than cream. Amazing.

Caen (Oustriham Ferry Port)
Caen looked like a huge city as we skirted the edge of it. I hadn’t realised that we would be staying in a small town nearly 10 miles away to catch the ferry to Portsmouth.

It was a beach destination of it’s own though, allowing us one final glimpse of the sea before we leave.

Captains log: The journey home- Caen (Oustriham) to Maidenhead (via Brittany Ferries to Portsmouth)

Journey: 5 hours at sea + 78 road miles (4,620 in total)

It was quiet at the ferry port when we arrived at 7am. Our last experience of France was uneventful, other than French customs taking an interest in us and boarding Bertie for a nose around.

A beautiful, wide and high entrance made parking on Brittany Ferry’s ‘Pride if Normandy’ a simple task, delightful even, compared with our previous ferry experience in Croatia.

We made our way to the restaurant area to secure a base for the 5 hour crossing. It was a stroke of genius to locate ourselves in view of the children’s play area. Barney has developed enough confidence to walk over to the play area on his own, so we could relax a little.

We were very impressed by the facilities on the ferry – decent shops and restaurants, a well equipped play area and the children’s entertainer made fantastic balloons.

We were soon disembarking the ferry. We were greeted by a miserable British customs official who checked us back into the motherland. Not the warmest of greetings after 3 months away.

Oh my god. How different it is in England compared with mainland Europe – busy motorway, driving on the left, complete change of scenery, everyone seems less happy and in more of a rush. It really did feel like we were going the wrong way around roundabouts.

The journey up the M3 from Portsmouth was pleasant enough, but you could sense the excitement in Bertie as we all headed home.

On returning to Maidenhead, Bertie was parked on the road, emptied and then manoeuvred onto the driveway. Now time for a cup of tea.

We are home!

Captains log: La Rochelle to Caen

Journey: 299 miles (4,540 to date)

It was the start of a sad day. The final journey of our trip on foreign land. After 11 weeks away, tomorrow morning we’d be boarding the ferry at Oustriham for a 5 hour journey to Portsmouth. A quick skip up the M3 would see us return home.

There was a sombre mood and quiet in Bertie for the first part of the 300 mile journey. No doubt as each of the Johnsons contemplated life after the trip. The good news was that we’d be spending a long day with Bertie – around 6 hours to get us to the Normandy coast.

It was spookily quiet on the roads. Very few cars or lorries. The roads were also some of the best that we’d experienced in France – smooth and straight. We had this for almost an hour and a half before we stopped for breakfast. Freshly brewed tea and coffee at a motorway services, courtesy of our hob. Lovely.

Onwards through a desolate France. Soon near le mans for lunch. Stopped with some lorries to use a picnic bench for our lunch.

Final slog north to Caen. Trip into our last hypermarket to stock up on booze and gifts. Got cornered trying to leave by the height restrictions. Eventually made our escape through the petrol station and then the rear end of the car park.

We were charged 54 Euros for the journey on the motorway. Outrageous. Though it does explain why the road was so empty!

A short trip on to our overnight aire at the ferry port of Ouistreham. 8 Euros to stay for the night with free water.

The small town was awesome, with a beach. Perfect for an overnight visit and several restaurants to choose from for our last supper.

Captains log: Ars en Re to La Rochelle

Journey: 28 miles (4,240 to date)

Today’s agenda involved a little driving to use Bertie as a real motorhome – allowing us to visit some places on the way to our next destination.

The first port of call was Il de Re’s capital – St Martin. What a stunning little town, perfect for a weekend retreat.

A free motorhome car park greeted us, followed by hairy donkeys with trousers, cool bijou shops, a gorgeous harbour area and an artisan boulangerie with tasty cakes. We bought a baguette so that we didn’t look out of place or have an empty hand as we walked around.

A further highlight for me was a supercar memorabilia shop. Stuffed full of the usual t-shirts and key rings for Ferrari and Lamborghini, but also bespoke items like a desk chair made from a Ferrari seat.

Onwards to mainland France, over another big bridge to our next destination and home for the night – La Rochell.

We stayed at a ‘P&R’ (Park and relay). Our 10 Euro ticket included our ‘relay’ by bus into the city centre.

Wow, what a stunning city! We took a walking tour of the city’s sites, absorbing the lovely architecture. I can also see why this city was selected as the main city in my school French textbooks.

We stuffed ourselves with moules frites and profiteroles before taking a little electric bus to return us to Bertie at the p&r.

We slept to the sound of the sncf trains nearby, preparing for our final day of driving overseas.

Back in Blighty

Homeward bound

Balloon modelling, soft play, a performing clown, games, people dressed as teddies and toy story on the tv – quite a good effort by Brittany Ferries to entertain the little people! Just under 6 hours to get from Caen to Portsmouth. Phil’s parents have kindly been on cat/house sitting duty this week so we’ll have a welcome home party to greet us! Let’s hope there is space on the road to park Bertie until we find him a new home!

So……mixed feelings today……really looking forward to seeing our house and cats and having a soak in the bath. Really fancy some home cooked food, wearing some properly washed and ironed clothes and getting Barney back into his own bedroom and getting back to sharing my bed with Phil. But on the other hand, I cannot believe our adventure is over (after our wedding we both felt a real come down after months of planning, an amazing day with all your best friends and family and then it is over – and this feels similar – albeit we only had about 6 weeks to think about the trip, plan it and buy a camper!).

We’ve lived in a van for 12 weeks with a 2 year old and survived it and seen 11 countries! I do feel unbelievably lucky to have been able to have 3 months off from normal life to experience what we have as a family and I don’t really think it’s sunk in yet that life may be different as a result.

5 hours of playing on the motorway

Barney didn’t go back to sleep wem we transferred him from bed to car seat and as a result of his early wake up call, he was not a happy chappy during today’s trek! Until now I have been rotating his toys so that the box under my feet for journey play keep him amused. 3 months of the same toys (to be fair we have bought him lots along the way plus his Nana packed up lots of surprises that he has opened throughout the trip) and today he decided they were dull. His 3 nursery rhyme cd’s bored him, his woody was tossed to the floor, fireman Sam was lobbed across the van and so I resorted to old fashioned fun. A muslin that had been used to prevent anything small being wedged beneath the windows by small people, was today used as both a duvet for various soft toys and as a baby shawl for teddy. Along with socks being used as hiding places for fireman Sam and his co-firefighter Elvis, we just about made it to the hypermarket. Conscious that tonight will be spent on another ‘aire’ with no electric plug in, we will not be able to play any films to entertain the boy – we invested in a playmobil travel set of pirates – a new interest of Barney’s and something that we hope to keep him quiet this evening.
We found the aire and were pleased it had been extended from 7 spaces to at least 20. We bagsied our space and were pleasantly surprised to realise it was on a beach in a very popular beach resort – albeit right next to Brittany Ferries’ port. A few hours walking up and down the beach, high St and then a few drinks in a restaurant as we waited until 6pm when they started their food. We were starving and decided not to bother cooking on our last night.
Back at Bertie, we all had a shower in the van and an early night ready for the early start homeward bound tomorrow.

Country 10: France

Proud. Undignified. Breathtaking.

Proud of their identity – fashion, language, food, history. Not many speak English, unlike any of the other countries we’ve visited. Strange given their proximity to the UK.

Undignified. Seems like a contradiction of the first word, right? Well, which other chic western nation uses a hole in the ground for, ahem, disposing of waste? They are proud of being undignified. And don’t get me started on hairy armpits – based on first impressions, these are not a myth. I think that we’re too close to the swimming pool!

Breathtaking. Not about garlic breath and BO. These are stereotypes that we haven’t experienced. Thankfully. The scenery. The architecture. The beaches. The food. The hypermarkets. Are all breathtaking. I can’t remember a journey where we haven’t muttered a “wow” as we have driven through an area.

St Laurent du Var
Our first taste of France, on the Cote d’Azur. We got our fill of bus journeys, staying just out of town. 1 Euro for any trip. Simples.

We barely saw much of the town, other than the train station, as we used it as a central point to access the SNCF train network and the glitzy coast. The trains are amazing – 3 decks, with air conditioning. They run all the way along the coast providing simple and cheap access.

Antibes
Our first sightseeing trip was to this smashing place. It oozed chic, and was servicec by a myriad of bars and street cafes.

We engaged in our first bit of real culture, with a visit to the Musee Picasso. It was very odd not to find any Picasso works until the 2nd floor – we were starting to feel hard done by! We felt better for having seen them though. Odd guy, but also a genius.

We spent the rest of the adternoon having a lovely slow meander around the old town. Blue sky meets turquoise sea – seems to be a common theme of the Cots D’Azur. I like it here – I can understand why our friend Hugh (& Sandra) chose to study for his MBA here.

This is my first taste of the playground of the rich – I’ve never seen so many yacht brokers or white-haired gentlemen in their boating shoes. It looks like a little wonga is needed to play here then! Alternatively for Antibes, you can be an artist (no doubt selling their works to the white-haired playboys) there are plenty of bohemians balancing the ‘vibe’ of this great place.

Monaco and Monte Carlo
Our 11th country! Hurrah. Wow.

Marble underground walkways, very clean. Travelators like at airports. We liked it here before we’d even made it outside.

The first pit stop (sorry) was to take a seat in a statue F1 car next to the harbour. We the had breakfast next to the grand prix start line – whilst sitting next to supermodels. A fine mist was sprayed to keep us cool as we chowed down the Nutella, banana and chantilly crepes. Tasty, but not healthy. We passed on the champagne, unlike the supermodels.

A post-breakfast stroll up the hill to monte Carlo and the casino. Stunning. We took LOTS of photos. The sun must have a lot to do with how nice this place feels. It put us in the mood for a lovely lunch with a 1/2 bottle of Sancerre. Perfect.

Of we go to Nice. We can no longer afford to be in Monaco, and I am full.

Nice
First impression: it is a long shopping street – like Oxford street – with a beach at the end of it. You do have to remain alert for the trams.

The Police were zipping around on Segways (and they were rather hot). Only here would that happen.

We were then rewarded with a breakdancing/parkeur routine by some French youth. Groovy.

Cannes
Our first thought was – Where’s the art deco? There were many designer boutiques, just none in the architectural style that we had imagined. The shops led to a great beach and promenade.

Cut outs of Angelina Joliet and pirates of Caribbean allowed some film related photos, whilst Barney drove a Ferrari (on a merry-go-round) – to fit in.

We bisited the festival hall to see where it all happens – unexpectedly there were handprints of stars in the ground. Sly Stallone, George Lucas and Cameron Diaz were my favourites.

Sculptures made to look like sweets were on every street corner. Each one represented a different nation, and the wrapper was supposed to be that nation’s flag.

Like the rest of the coast, there is a stunning blue sky and palm trees. I can imagine the stars coming here to play.

Given that we are visiting France for almost 6 weeks, it warranted a 2 part post. More to follow…

Captains log: Saint Georges (Ile d’Oleron) to Ars (Ile de Res)

Journey: 98 miles (4,210 to date)

The pitch was rather tight to manoeuvre off, which was not helped by the car parked opposite, the steep incline up to the road, or Bertie’s weight (from our payload and the new bike). The chap opposite jumped in his car to take some rubbish to the pubelles, so we dropped our croissants, unplugged the electric and made like the wind. At least until Bertie’s wheels spun, trying to find sufficient grip to haul his rear end onto the road.

After several attempts, the air was accrid with burned rubber and smoke. The neighbours had all formed a crowd on the road to watch – just like kids at school watching a fight. I had one final chance to navigate us to victory.

I dropped Bertie to the rear of the pitch, flipped him into winter mode and then slammed on the accelerator. The 3 metre run-up wasn’t much, but did just enough as we inched past the previous tyre marks and onto the open road. We were on our way.

Today we were going to use Bertie as a real motorhome – travelling around to see some sights and then stopping for our overnight, wherever that may be.

Saint Dennis – the lighthouse on d’Oleron’s most northerly tip. Stopped at an ‘Aire’ for an hour of free parking. There really wasn’t much to it, at least not what we found.

We then performed an urgent Gazol stop as the ‘empty’ light flickered into life. Bertie was very deserving for the fill-up, given this morning’s escapade.

Next was Boyardville. Fort Boyard was a blip in the distance out to sea. We parked in a huge space next to the fair, eleviating any vehicle worries. Melinda Messenger made a famous gameshow on the fort -so I was on the lookout for her and Lesley Grantham, but neither were to be found.

Finally, we dropped in to Saint Trojan, looking for the big village beach and somewhere to stay. As it was raining heavily, we simply decided to escape the island and head for sunnier pastures.

The road to La Rochelle included the steepest motorway bridge I’ve ever experienced, just next to the Gendarmes School. I waved at my friends.

Skirted past La Rochelle, as memories of Mrs (Nelly) Slater’s school French textbooks returned.

Crossed the bridge to Ile de Re. 16.50 Euros on tolls. Lovely viaduct.

Drove passed St Martin and then found Camping L’Ocean as we headed towards Ars en Re.

Ars was very wet. We had a palaver checking in, but a choice of pitches. It is clearly nearing ‘off season’, as there are empty pitches, toilet blocks closing and the supermarket shelves are not being restocked once depleted.

We pulled Bertie on to a level and accessible spot, opposite from the restaurant. Tonight was going to be pizza and movie night for the Johnsons, as we flipped on the ‘relax’ button from today’s adventures.