Autumn in Normandy
We looked at Spain, Italy and Portugal, that is my husband and I when we decided the credit crunch had got too much and we needed a short break away from the doom and gloom of England. Italy was a no- no, we had travelled there previously but the cost now was just too much, in fact you could buy a decent second car for what it would cost to go to Venice for five days. After far too many hours surfing the internet, getting grouchy and fed up we decided the whole thing wasn’t even worth bothering about. After careful consideration we decided we didn’t even WANT to go to Alcudia to be terrorised by other peoples children, eat all-inclusive Spanish food and drink house brand Gin, it just wasn’t worth the hassle or the money. We sat for hours on the sofa drinking wine, a little worse for wear my husband suggested taking our motor home. Sounds okay. Better than airport check in and Spanish Gin.
The ferry crossing on the first week of September was calm and we sat playing cards and drinking hot chocolate. A funny thing for a twenty and thirty-something couple to do. We should be living it up in Lloret de Mar or, I hear Ibiza is nice at this time of year! But no, here we were on a slow boat to Calais, our fridge stocked with food, and our sliced bread in the overhead locker (sliced bread is hard to come by in France). It was an evening ferry so it was dark when we arrived in Calais. Not the best port in the world, a few dodgy looking guys hanging around the lorry park and an exceptionally dodgy looking girl in hot-pants hanging around the lorry drivers but I guessed we would be ok if we just kept going – and we were, apart from one major problem. Not one of the wine warehouse’s were open at night and we were having pasta for tea. Imagine, pasta and no wine!!
One early lesson I learnt from our midnight drive to Boulogne is NEVER COMPLETELY TRUST THE SAT NAV! We were told there was a nice farmer (I jest you not) who allows motor homes to park in his yard, and as it was a long drive to Normandy we decided this was a great idea. Might have been in broad daylight but we forgot, generally speaking farmers live on farms and farms are usually in the middle of the country side. As we drove down windy narrow French cart tracks my tired, hungry mind delved into my almost forgotten psyche and recalled movies like The Wrong Turn, ‘remember The Wrong Turn’? I asked my husband up to his neck in maps as he cursed the robotic voice of the Sat Nav. His look told me he did remember but no weirdo yokel was dragging him off to his forest cabin – not until he’d had his tea anyway.
‘It wasn’t that bad’ I said over our cooked breakfast in the morning. We had found it and the farmer was really helpful (only charged us 5 Euro’s), except he did that English thing which until now I believed was exclusive to English people. You know, when the person you are trying to speak to doesn’t speak English you shout, louder and louder and louder, like that makes any difference. My husband was annoyed, why don’t they speak English, you can see the South Coast of England from here, you think that they would know a bit wouldn’t you? Er, no because it’s France. Sigh!
The second lesson I learnt from our daytime drive to Hon Fleur is NEVER COMPLETELY TRUST THE SAT NAV! It was a tiring drive and we couldn’t find the more soothing voice of the English accented robot on the Sat Nav so we had the officious American one, obviously trained by Storming Norman. She led us to Le Havre without any difficulty and then kept insisting we should board a ferry when there was a perfectly good bridge to cross. I have heard of people driving off cliffs and into walls because of their Sat Nav and now I realise how understandable that is. She had such quiet determination about the ferry and the annoyance showed when she had to (again) RECALCULATE. Aaaaaaaaah!
We bought a map.
Hon Fleur was delightful, warm, sunny. The harbour was beautiful and even the parking attendant let us off paying. There was a great parking area for motor homes right along the coast with facilities. Unfortunately time was of the essence, so after a bit of lunch (which we thought was a bit steep at the time) we carried on to Lidl. There was a reason for this. Wine in Lidl, we realised, is great. Good quality and above all, cheap! It does matter when you are on a budget!
The evening came and we were delighted when we saw our base for the next three nights. We had been told there was a great ‘Aire’ in Arromanche that was easy to find, quiet, clean and with water, loo disposal, electricity charged hourly, and best of all it was free. We were lucky that night Liverpool were playing Marseille in one of the local bars and we drank wine and ate pizza watching it. Liverpool won. My husband was ecstatic- and it showed.
Luckily, there were no irate Frenchmen awaiting us with baseball bats in the car park though. I think they had just drunk up and gone home. Stupid English football fan!
Our Battlefield tour began today. It was a beautiful day. One of those warm Autumnal spider web days when everything seems like it was wrapped in mist and dew but the promise was for bright blue skies and choppy seas.
We stopped to go in the museum in Arromanche then onto the Merville Battery and Pegasus Bridge, where the Brits landed in their gliders in the early hours of June the 6th. We heard stories of bravery and sacrifice and we came away feeling humbled and sober feeling adventurous and eager to go and see more.
We had everything we needed with us all the time, our kitchen, our bathroom and our bed. There was a feeling of complete freedom in our camp and as we pulled over for cups of tea, French bread, cheese and ham we felt like we were the king’s of the road.
The day after we drove the beaches, Juno, Sword, Gold, Omaha and Utah. We saw the American cemetery at Omaha and were floored by the expanse of little white crosses covering the cliff side. Peaceful, windswept and enduring, that stayed with us as we continued our journey. We idly drove through little French villages that were off the beaten track (thanks again to Sat Nav, last chance and she blew it.) We didn’t complain, we saw Chateux and dairy farms, village wash houses and tiny bakeries. The bread in the bakery where we stopped was served by an old couple who obviously thought my husband was an alien, although they were very pleasant to this creature who had just popped down to earth for a quick baguette.
We drove on after another French bread lunch on Omaha beach to the guns at Longues and Saint Mere Eglise where John Steele had dangled from the steeple, when the American Airborne Division parachuted in, pretending to be dead so the German’s didn’t shoot him. Quick thinking and all credit to him.
That night we returned to our car park in Arromanche (by now we were very fond of it and my husband had even begun to refer to it as ‘home’). We ate in a little restaurant in the centre of the pretty French town. We had fresh oyster’s and chicken coq au vin, can you tell the budget is now way out of the window. Credit crunch, what credit crunch!
We only had a few days left and we really wanted to drive up to the Somme and Flanders. It was Thursday already and our return ferry was Sunday morning so we had very little time.
What a drive from Arromanche to Albert deep in the Somme. We arrived late afternoon and we really wanted to be in Ypres for that night. As we toyed with the idea of just keeping driving the fields that played host to that horrific Great War beckoned us to stay. The afternoon was bright sunshine, the air was cool but through the ear shattering peace you could almost hear the ghosts of the shells exploding and the smell of fear and blood. Of course all that is laid to rest, like the men that fought there. They are in their neat, well kept resting places, dotted all over the Somme. Isolated but not forgotten. We drove to the Thiepval memorial at Beumont-Hamel. The sun was just setting behind the memorial and the only sound that interrupted the sunset was an Australian visitor who was calling his family over to show them what he had found in the farmers field. A bit of a tank or gun or maybe a piece of shrapnel, it keeps turning up all the time especially in ploughing time. Back at our trusty motor home we set off again, self-contained and excited about all the things we had seen, had yet to see, and congratulated ourselves on the decision to do something adventurous and not be drawn into the boring old world of Spain and Spanish Gin! We went to the museum in Albert (just caught it an hour before closing) and the Newfoundland memorial where there are still the trenches and the bomb craters overlooked proudly by the statuesque Carabou memorial.
Long, long drive north to Ypres. ‘Would have taken a bit more time to do this if we had have realised’ my husband said as we switched seats. Time waits for no-one, not even motor home holiday makers. Time is precious, busy and an expensive commodity so we needed to make the most of it. Tired eyes, blurry lights and the sign for Ypres. A welcomed sight. We had planned on finding a campsite but by now it was dark and we were hungry so we parked up and got going with our evening meal. That, my friends, is the pleasure of motorhoming. Pull up, cook your meal, open the wine, put on a film, have a shower, on with the jim jam’s and up the ladder to the over cab bed for a good nights sleep.
We were nearly at the end. The grand finale was the Flanders Fields tour and the Last Post at the Menheim Gate. We woke early on Saturday and bought a two Euro ‘drive it yourself guide’ from the Tourist Information centre. It was great once we found the start of it but soon realised, once again, time was not on our side and there was no way we could complete the tour in a day. So we narrowed down the bits we really ‘needed’ to see. First was Tyne Cot cemetery at Paschendale. The place where no-one can escape the full horror of the First World War. The place where a soft robotic voice re-counts in carefully pronounced syllables the names of all the dead and missing whilst their photo’s appear on a screen in the visitor’s centre.
We travelled to Essex Farm cemetery where the poem In Flanders Fields was written by John McCrae. You can still see the dug-outs there and the sand bags that have all turned to stone through the years. We drove to the German cemetery at Langemark a large unmarked grave and a vast area of ugly black crosses marking the area. Swarming with GCSE students we escaped the oppressive feeling that we were suddenly overcome by, and headed back to Ypres.
That afternoon as we sat in the impressive market square drinking beer and eating croque monsieurs we reflected on our exciting adventure and suddenly became very tired. We had travelled a great distance in six days but we were so glad we did.
Back to our mobile house for shower and polish up before walking back to see The Last Post. This is the secret of luxury camping, you have all your home from home comforts but you can get right to the centre of the action. No taxis, no time limits, and no bossy rules and regulations of hotels and B&B’s. Just stock up your van and off you go.
We stopped in a little café as the dusk was descending on the square, it was chilly but buzzing with people and atmosphere. A good excuse for a brandy and hot chocolate, I thought, (notice lack of budget-again.)
Watching the visitor’s of Ypres congregate around the Menheim Gate to see the Last Post we joined the throng and tried our best to see the ceremony. It was a fitting end to a fabulous holiday. We had travelled miles and seen fantastic things we would never have seen laying on a beach in Spain. We were thoroughly welcomed and catered for on the continent in our motor home. Everyone was helpful and no-one complained about us taking up two car park spaces! As the last note from the players lingered in the cold evening we watched the twinkling lights sparkle in the square and we saw the pink haze of evening descend behind the spires of Ypres and we realised THIS is what we work for and time, indeed, is very special. So make the most of it and don’t waste it going to see the same thing time and time again, change and learning makes life interesting. We certainly found that out!