Ola dear family & friends, the Cainfenton Trundlebus is on the road again for a 3 month tour. Our as usual very general plan, is to head down through France to the Spanish border at San Sebastian, then drop down through Central Spain to the Mediterranean, and trundle along the Spanish & Portuguese coast. We will then head north through Portugal and back to France via Northern Spain. On the way home we hope to visit Fang’s cousin Denise & Mick in their chateaux somewhere in France while her delightful enchanting Aunty Violet is visiting with the delectable if somewhat scary Anny GetYourGunCutter, both of whom you might remember from last year’s exploits. We will then be visiting a cousin of mine who also has a chateaux somewhere in France; but more of them in a later blog.

We actually left Macclesfield on the 15^th April so have already been on the road now for a couple of weeks. The start of our journey was as eventful as you might expect. After a completely trouble free winter of motoring with the Trundlebus, an error free MOT and a full service that found nothing untoward we boarded on the Sunday morning to set off for Dover and....yes you guessed it....turned the key & nought. The starter motor was playing up again on the very,very start of the trip! Still, nothing to worry about now that I have my French socket set; out I jump with socket set in hand, do some faffing under the bonnet to tighten a bolt that is the offender; I shout ‘give it a go now Fang’ ( who is by the way in her first apoplectic fit of the trip and we are not even off the driveway!) and the Trundlebus roars into life. I jump back in, tighten the bolt in Fang’s neck just to make sure everything is secure, and off we set for Dover and beyond.  

Our first nights stop was just south west of Paris in a delightful spot right on the banks of the majestic River Seine. We spent the evening watching the enormous barges plying up and down the river taking their loads into the centre of Paris.

Fang relaxing beside the River Seine

 

To add a new dimension to the trip this time we have bought along our bikes. I took a bike ride along the river on the first evening and it was brilliant. The next morning Fang decided that she would like to take a ride.....

Fang flat out on her bike

Fang after 50 yards... she decides pushing is better

After another 50 yards... she decides me pushing is even better

The weather is pleasant enough in France so we decide to take our time and re-visit a little place called Falaise; the birth place of William the Conqueror in Normandy. From there we move further south to a night stop in a very sleepy village called Laigne en Belin in the middle of the French countryside. This is in our book of places for motorhomes to stay but we couldn’t find the designated bays. However, the village was so quiet, and it’s not that unusual not to find designated bays, so we tucked ourselves into a corner of the village square. The weather was sunny and warm for the afternoon and evening and we spent a nice lazy time in the quiet of the village. Next morning about 6.30am we are in bed having a nice cup of tea, curtains and blinds are still closed. Next thing there is a loud knock on the side of the van followed by a stream of French that went far beyond anything we had been taught in our ‘French for Beginners’ Class. ‘Go and find out what that is Jono’ orders Fang slurping her tea. So dutifully, I get out of my bed and go out to have a look.......blimey oh riley its market day and the traders are all around us setting up their stalls and some are already trading. There I am standing in the middle of what was last night a nice quiet village square, and is now a bustling market, attired in my fetching but highly inappropriate M&S shorty pyjamas. I rush back to the van to find Fang still in bed enjoying her first cup of Tetley’s with French housewives poking their head through the window asking for half a pound of cod, but in French. ‘Stay where you are Fang’ says I, and jump into the driving seat praying that the ruddy starter motor is not going to fail me now. All is well and I drive out of the market waving and nodding to the traders in French with Fang still lying in bed slurping her tea.

Next was a little town called Couhe, which did not have a lot going for it; but was a convenient night stop over. We did have a pleasant bike ride in the afternoon, although Fang sees things differently because I led us a bit of a merry chase down blind alleys trying to find a nice ride along the river....I call it exploring.....Fang calls it going the wrong way.

The old market at Couhe

Fang seems to be getting in the swing on her bike now

And so onto the enchanting town of Brantome in the Dordogne. We spent a delightful afternoon and evening parked beside the river in this beautiful little town, and we even lucked upon market day. Now here’s a thing.....we are wandering through the market in the sunshine browsing all the delicious food stalls when Fang, drooling from her chops at each stall, spies one selling fresh scallops. ‘Ooh look’ says she ‘do I like scallops Jono?’ ‘Yes you do’ says I, ’Have I had them before then?’ says she ‘Yes you have, that’s how I know you like them’ says I (sometimes it’s ruddy hard work being Mr Fang!), ‘Let’s have some for tonight’ says Fang. So I beckon madam scallop seller over, point in French and raise my eyebrow in a very Gallic way, and she jabbers away in French thinking I am one of her kinsmen. She has gently spooned a good portion of said scallops into a tub and asks if that’s enough, Fang gives her version of a Gallic shrug, and indicates perhaps a couple more. Voila......that’s 17,50 euro merci buckets......well Fang has a silent fit while she hands over her dosh and then chews my ear off all the way back to the van for letting her buy the scallops . That night I cook Coquille St Jacques for the first time in years and it was scrumptious even if I do say so myself. Fang now tells anyone who will listen about the scallops I bought in the market for 17,50 eur?*!

The enchanting Brantome

Looking at the map that evening we discovered that we could find a stopover on the banks of the Canal Midi. The canal was built in 1640 and runs from Bordeaux right down to the Mediterranean and is pretty as a picture all the way. We spent a wonderful couple of days going on cycle rides along the canal. It was here that we met a couple from the UK.         John and Clare had spent the last 4 ½ years sailing around the Mediterranean in their boat. They then decided to sell the boat and buy a motorhome, and here they were on their first trip through France and heading for Portugal. A charming couple and we had a right royal laugh with them.

Parked up on the Canal Midi

Our new best friends John & Clare

Cycling was a delight even for Fang!

 Next onto a place called Dax, which is just on the French side of the Pyrenees and a perfect stopover before our venture into Spain. We found a great spot in some woods and met up again with John & Clare who were of course heading in the same direction as us. We spent the next two days just relaxing and enjoying the sunshine.

Our view from the back window

Giving my opinion on something.....as usual

Mad Hatters tea party in the woods

Off now over the Pyrenees and onto one of our most favourite towns in Spain; the beautiful San Sabastian with its stunning sandy beach right in the city and its narrow atmospheric streets crowded with tapas bars. Again we met up with John & Clare and spent another nice couple of days in their company. Here we parted company with them as they were heading along the northern coast of Spain into Portugal and we were heading south through central Spain.

San Sebastian

The beach at San Sebastian

 

Lunch on the beach

Fang found this young chap to take the photo above, and then insisted on taking his photo much to the delight of his two girl friends

 

We headed for a hilltop village in the rugged and beautiful El Maestrat mountains. Morella, surrounded by forested hills and surmounted with a lofty castle is a heart-stopping sight. It was a bit cool here as we were over 1000 meters but well worth it as the climb up through the narrow cobbled streets to the castle battlements was spectacular.

The mountain top town of Morella

The double viaduct built by the Romans...who else?

The massive castle gates

The view of the country side from the castle

The following morning, at 6.55am to be exact, I opened the curtains to a foot of snow, I jest not .... and it was still snowing, so we got up and high-tailed-it off that mountain, or rather at 5 miles an hour, meeting two snow ploughs on the way down, it was a pretty hairy trip in the Trundle! On the upside Fang didn’t say a word for an hour or so, she just sat in the passenger seat with her bum cheeks tightened up around her ears.

I was following another brother off the mountain

This is the road we had down off the mountain !

However, all is well and we are now down on the coast.......until next time dear family & friends we bid you adios from the Spanish Mediterranean.