France 85 - Wild Garlic, the snowy mountains, crossing the D'Oubes and Saone , in Raymond Blancs part of the world

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We spoke to our neighbours last night. Only a quick conversation as the rain was falling in bucket loads. They were Scottish, had bought a motorhome the same time as us and were just returning from a holiday in Italy. I had little chance to ask about the weather or where they had been to before we had to rush off out of the downpour. They did venture out later in the direction of the hostelry on the campsite . We just sat in, hunkered down listening to the rain drumming on Suzy’s roof, reading and writing up blogs which will not get posted for a few days are we internet free. I could have paid 2 euros for the campsite WiFi but as our signal would have been poor and there was nowhere to sit closer we chose to do other things. Book of the holiday so far , The Kings Curse by Phillipa Gregory. I started some while ago reading her series on the Plantagenates and realised that as I started to read my new one I missed a large number of them out of the series and this book had moved on through the later Plantagenates to the Tudor dynasty. I had also picked up a cryptic crossword book. Years ago I was able to do some of these but never quite got the hang of them completely so this book told me how to decipher the clues so in the interests of keeping the brain ticking over I am trying them again.

We woke later this morning . After two solid days of driving we were still only around Burgundy . France just goes on and on. We had another heavy day on the road . I now know why I kept telling my manager at work how long it takes to get anywhere in a motorhome. We were travelling six hours a day and yet still we were nowhere near where we felt our holiday would begin.

We set off again eating the miles of motorway criss crossing the Rivers D’Oubes and Saone some wider and deeper in parts than others. We entered Franche Comte the home of the renowned chef Raymond Blanc. Now he is an interesting Frenchman and he has just completed a programme with the lovely Kate Humble where they grew vegetables in Kew Gardens in London and Raymond served them up. And what lovely dishes he served up on the plates.



We filled up with our first French diesel at 1 euro 36.9 cents. Cheaper than back home with the pound changing hands with the euro at just about £1 exchange rate . This makes filling coming in at round a pound a litre. Back home it is £1.18 and has been gradually rising from its low of £1.13 a few weeks ago. Bit more expensive in France than I expected but then again it was on the motorway and they do charge top dollar.

We travelled through the Juras and the scenery became more hilly but still with plenty of agriculture going on. Field after field of rich brown soil all ready to be filled with this seasons crops.

We came up again with the Lesser I couldn’t care less Frenchman that we have come to hate on our travels . On two aires we saw the habit of the men and boys of looking at the toilets from afar , ignoring them and going up to the nearest tree to use it as a toilet. We pondered on why they go further out of their way to use the tree when the toilet is nearer. And we felt rather disgusted that one family had taught their young boy of about 9 to use the tree rather than the toilet . The smell in places is nothing short of pure ammonia as the wee breaks down. Don’t French mothers teach little boys to use the toilet properly? We hope this habit never travels across the Channel.

The peages acted up today. Slow so slow picking up the little box we have . At times we thought they would never lift the barrier. The scenery changed again as the hills turned to mountains some with the winters snow still still upon them. It is still April so to be expected I guess . We encountered a little more traffic heading south as the weather slightly improved and by the time we had arrived at our stop for the night near to Chambery the sun was shining and it was quite bright and warm. Not sun tan weather you understand but better than last nights rain.



Tonights campsite was a change of plan. We ended up at a small camping site in the middle of nowhere. A little further on thatn we had planned and closer to our destination tomorrow the Frejus tunnel and Bella Italia. The road to the campsite was narrow and headed upwards towards the snow line. We hoped it would not be too far up the col as the signs suggested that the col was ferme to both man and beast. Negotiating Suzy in the snow is not very easy . In fact it is impossible. We drove through the tiny village , down even narrower lanes and over an impossibly narrow bridge which rumbled ominously beneath us. The campsite was situated next to a rushing river and was the usual mix of camping spots and statics. We were the only ones there and had the camping part entirely to ourselves that was once we had found the owner. The reception was locked and only had a phone number to ring. Luckily I found a nice Frenchman who spoke no English but guessed what I wanted and rang the number. Within five minutes a young man turned up took us to our plot , relieved us of our 10 euros ( no receipt) and explained that only one shower was open. Too early in the season to bother with any more. The shower was rustic to say the least. Nowhere to put clothes . I hung my hearing aids, my jumper and blouse and glasses in the window hoping for the best, my trousers were hung over the next cubicle and my shoes under the door. The shower head had nowhere to hang and was just lying on the taps which means splashing myself with water, soaping myself down and washing it off all the time watching my clothes trying to keep them dry. I didn’t fancy walking back to the van in my underclothes and with a towel round me . Modesty prevented that .

All in all – not a site that you would give 5* to. Nothing there and what there was was in need of some TLC. But it got 5* for peace and quiet , the gentle sounds of the rushing river nearby fast flowing due to the snow melt from the mountains. A little piece of heaven. Wild Garlic filling the air with its pungent aroma , tiny alpine strawberries in bloom and giant violets.



Again the trusty calendar came up with the goods…….Whatever comes, accept it, whatever goes accept it .



Now that rings true doesn’t it?

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