POSTSCRIPT

M1 and M2 with the Mystery Blonde!

A few weeks after returning, how do I view the whole experience? Did we achieve our aim? What would we do differently if there was a next time? What did we gain?

The concept was to take the opportunity of retirement to travel and to take the time to adjust to a more leisurely lifestyle unencumbered by deadlines, obligations and routine. An air lock, if you will, between the pressures of the working world and what follows. I was also keen to have a project to get my teeth into, to extend my boundaries and to change my scene completely - but not irrevocably. After all, youngsters now expect to take a 'Gap' year between school and university - almost as a rite of passage. So, two old timers, both of whom had worked pretty well non-stop since the age of 18, felt that a journey in Europe was a perfectly reasonable proposition. Destination Europe rather than further afield as it has such a rich, varied and inexhaustible history.

Our particular interest was the Peninsular War of 1808 to 1813. Inspired by the historically accurate (but over romanticised) Sharpe novels of Bernard Cornwell and the excellent TV series which followed, the war seemed to epitomise the finest British military achievements under a particularly successful and charismatic leader in Lord Wellington. Other battlefields of interest were Agincourt and Crecy and the fields of the World War conflicts of 1914-1918 and 1939-1945. Subordinate interests were wines and golf courses with a general wish to travel as far as Eastern Europe, hopefully as far as Estonia then cross to Finland then Sweden. We recognised the need for plenty of physical exercise as well as the need to safeguard personal space. Our bikes were therefore an important part of our otherwise frugal inventory and proved to be great assets for getting ourselves round towns and battle sites. So - 'WITH' bikes, not 'ON' bikes but they were close to essential. Transport and accommodation was provided by an old banger of a left hand drive camper van, affectionately named EMU standing for 'Elderly Mobile Unit', chosen from a considerable list of other, less flattering candidate labels.

In the early days of the tour, the agenda was set by the Peninsula War and gave us a good framework and itinerary to follow. Following the British retreat of 1808 from Sahagun to Corunna (an interesting parallel to Dunkerque in 1940) gave us our first insight into Spanish terrain, the distances, the resilience of the infantry of both sides and the huge logistical problems involved. It also gave us a fascinating exposure to the so-called 'Green' Spain of the Basque country, Asturias and Galicia which, wonderfully, are not mainstream destinations for tourists and visitors though the procession of pilgrims advancing on Santiago de Compostella was unavoidably evident. Through Portugal, where the people seemed more open and friendly than those we had experienced in Spain, we were pleased to note the obvious Portuguese pride in the joint military successes of the British and Portuguese forces of the Peninsular War. Battle sites were well preserved and good details were available none more so than at Vimeiro, which marked Wellington's first victories at Rolica and Vimeiro, and at Torres Vedras the centre of the defensive lines which were so effective in safeguarding Lisbon from invasion by the French. Thereafter, as we followed the battle sites through Spain, we found the tributes and recognition to be variable. This might be because Spain has such a complex and difficult history that the Peninsular War battles were a less important part of that overall historical tapestry. Memorials at places that loomed large in our minds such as Talavera and Badajoz were not well cared for with much graffiti and weeds in evidence. Ciudad Rodrigo, by contrast, was a joy of well preserved fortifications and buildings with many a tribute to the British role in wresting the city from the French. Aided by Paget's excellent book 'Wellington's Peninsular War', searching for prominent features, tramping over the battlefields, looking closely at the fortifications and working out exactly where key events occurred were rewarding and often deeply moving moments. We were struck by the wide variety of the fields of battle: the confined intensity of siege operations; the wide openness of Talavera, Salamanca and Vittoria; then the steep, wooded slopes of Busaco - surely the most unlikely site for a set piece infantry confrontation. Absorbing the impact of exhibits and artefacts in museums was normally time consuming whereas less well remembered sites only merited a short visit. Particular highlights were: marking the 200th anniversary of the triumphant British crossing of the Douro at Porto by standing on the very spot at the same time, on the same day (12 May) where Wellington had directed his forces; the very good lunch at Taylor's Port House which followed; the amazing Roman city of Merida; our golf and lunch at Pau Golf Club (1856), the oldest golf club in continental Europe; being introduced to the largely unrecognized Jurancon wines at Cru Lamouroux which looked south to the glorious French Pyrenees; our meeting at his home in Gers with Michael Ayrton, co-author of 'The Sharpest Fight', the story of the poorly recognised battle of Tarbes during the French retreat to Toulouse in 1814. With our visits to all the major battle sites matching the list of Peninsular War campaign clasps worn by General Sir Harry Smith, the future Governor of the Cape in South Africa, it was time to move on.

Following Wellington's campaign had imposed a travel agenda such that we often spent too much time on the road from A to B and searching for camp sites or other places to park. The second phase became more settled by staying in favoured places for longer. We retraced our footsteps to Laruns in the beautiful Vallee d'Osseau which we had abandoned too soon in early June in escaping from some unseasonably cold and wet weather. Climbing some 1200m to Lac d'Issade was hot, strenuous work but worth every step for the beauty and majesty of the destination. Witnessing the unbridled joy and community involvement in Laruns of the transhumance of cattle, sheep and ponies to the high, summer pastures was a memorable and happy coincidence. This was a prime example of another feature of our trip: noting how close the various populations were to the land. Whether it was vineyards, fruit trees, arable crops, maize, olive trees, cattle or sheep, the people lived a predominantly rural life. Although no doubt the same could be said of parts of the UK, our over crowded country of conglomerate, large scale farms and cooperatives in the pall of the supermarkets seems far more remote from the farming community. This is best encapsulated by the European love of daily fresh bread - an activity which preserves small village/town shops and enhances the community in which they live - rather than the UK preference for out of town centres and what we are told is a general British preference for packaged, sliced bread which appears to be fresh for a week due to its high fat content!

Our journey continued from France to Italy, Switzerland, the Rhinelands near Freiburg and the Alsace, Luxembourg and Belgium. Walking the glacial valleys of the south side of Mont Blanc when at Courmayeur, enjoying a seven course set meal (15 euros each including wine, digestif and coffee!) at a vineyard camp site in the Asti Valley will both live long in our memories. We would have spent more time in Italy aiming for the Dolomites but for the incompatibility of the Italian gas bottles and connectors which drove us back into France to Briancon then the Romanche valley where we arrived for a night and stayed a week. France proved to be the clear favourite with its amazing diversity, peace and quiet (except in prime holiday areas which we avoided when necessary), history and culture. It’s mountains - whether the Pyrenees, the Alps or the Jura - beckoned regularly. We developed a special affection for the unspoilt Vallee de la Valserine in the Jura west of Geneva and spent nearly 14 days there on three separate visits enjoying the walks, the views, the bike rides, the food and the locals at Chezery-Forens. This area was divided by the border between occupying German forces and Free France with the village of Chezery split in two by a German guard post. Understandably, the Jura became a centre for the Maquis and the Resistance movement and there were many memorials and tributes to those who had fought and perished in defying the occupying forces. An exceptional evening was to be invited to the home of Bruno and Nadine Campignotto. We met Bruno, a University lecturer, when playing golf at Grenoble. He was charming company and had no hesitation in recognizing 'les deux Brittaniques' as two stray dogs who needed some creature comforts which he and his lovely wife proceeded to provide at their home in Crolles. Golf is a wonderful vehicle for new friendships and this was again demonstrated when visiting Philip Bambury who took us to his lovely course near Ruffach in the Alsace which is run with skill and knowledge by David Abercrombie, a native of Northern Ireland.

After just over three months of wonderful experiences but sleeping on a shelf in EMU, it was an easy, mutual agreement for us to set an end date for our trip of the end of August. This, we thought, would ensure that we quit 'at the top' and would avoid the risk of our interest abating or patience evaporating before the end. Our final phase was to visit Waterloo (important but very disappointing) followed by the WW1 battlefields of Verdun, Ypres and the Somme. These were all emotive names marking the insanity and sacrifice of the Great War with ever present memorials, tributes and museums. The war almost defies comprehension. My vocabulary is inadequate to convey the extent, the madness, the horrors and the waste of this largely static war and the political stalemate of the time. Like us, most visitors were clearly affected by what they saw and what they could imagine of the hostilities in this otherwise gentle, rolling, arable landscape. Almost without exception, visitors of all ages and nationalities retreated into themselves with their private thoughts and reflections. The generation of Great War dead still speaks through those battlefields to those who have the conscience and interest to receive their silent but eloquent message of the futility of war and the rigidity of the strategy which sent so many men of both sides to their brave, foolish deaths.

After putting over 13,000 km on the odometer in four months, we were sorry not to have found time to visit Crecy and Agincourt, the WW2 battle sites in Normandy and to reach Eastern Europe and Scandinavia. Our unrealistic ambitions for those parts of the journey would have stretched us too far - but there's always another opportunity in another year! Nevertheless, four months without being bombarded with gloomy news from newspapers, radio or TV was a marvellous escape. So too was the absence of deadlines and the freedom to turn left, turn right or stay put as the moment demanded. We feel, I think, that we gained most by being ourselves, by learning about some fascinating periods of our history in the places where that history actually occurred, experiencing the culture, food, wines and – where we could – engaging with people in their own environment. The landscapes were often breathtakingly beautiful and the lure of the mountains was powerful and persuasive. Watching their colours, shades and moods change as any day progressed was unforgettable. We were constantly reminded of our insignificance compared to Nature’s might and majesty.

EMU was simply the best, starting eagerly first time every time, she burst into life on every occasion as if savouring the journey too! She couldn't be rushed though and moved steadily and sedately around the different roads she confronted almost without demur - even in the mountains. My chum, McD, was a great companion and the only friend with whom I could have contemplated taking such a trip. After living cheek by jowl for all those weeks it seems strange not to be bouncing off each other all the time. On the other hand - it is really good to be back in the bosoms of our respective families and with all the creature comforts of home. Memories abound as do further areas for reading, study and visits: the Roman Empire; the French Resistance movement; both World Wars.

Would we do it again – you bet! But not necessarily in EMU. Anybody out there want to buy a left hand drive K Reg campervan?

Tuesday 25 August - Through the Tunnel and home

A simple but tiring day going home. A short drive from Arras to Calais and the impressively well organised and efficient Eurotunnel. We were in good time and managed to jump forward to the earlier train than the one we had booked and departed exactly on schedule at 10.50. Fortunately, the traffic on the M2 was flowing reasonably well so via the Dartford Tunnel, M25, M11, M1 and A14 we arrived at Tytherington at about 4.30pm to Ann's warm smile. A quick turn round then it was M1's turn to press on home to an equally warm welcome from Annie and Joanne. How quickly the final days of our marvellous journey had disappeared but now it was time to return to normality and savour all our experiences and memories. This blog has been an important aspect of the trip as has McD's daily diary. Without recording our experiences, it would have been all to easy for places, people and events to become an imprecise, kaleidoscopic blur. This way, we have reference points which are important to the two tourists and, we hope, have been of value to any friends who have followed our travels. Cheers.

Monday 24 August - From The Somme to Arras

There was yet more to see at The Somme but even then we could still only scratch the surface of what there is to see. The bikes came into their own again and we set off independently to cover ground that was important personally. For M1, the impressive Newfoundland Park which housed not just the tributes to the Newfoundlanders (who went into battle on that fateful day with 801 personnel of whom only 68 survived unscathed) but to the Highland Division, the Danger Tree, Y-Ravine and overlooked the Hawthorn Ridge mine crater which had presaged the attack on 1st July 1916. From there to Beaumont-Hamel, Beaucort, Mouquet Wood and on to Pozieres where there was a wonderfully simple and dignified monument to the brave Australian forces who eventually took and held the Pozieres Windmill despite huge losses. This is opposite the Tank Corps Memorial to commemorate where British tanks were used for the first time. At Authuille, near our night stop, McD explored the moving tributes to the British soldiers who held the front line through the village for much of the War. In walking the cemetery there, he found the grave of Private J Walters of the Royal Fusiliers aged just 16 when he was killed on 1st July 1916.

After reuniting at the campsite, we cut the umbilical camping cord then pottered in the van past High Wood, Longueval (German Cemetary) to Delville Wood (South African Memorial) then Flers, Gomiecourt past Bapaume and on to Arras for a comfortable last night on tour in individual rooms in the Campanile Hotel.

It is not possible in this blog to convey the irrationality of this War, the intensity of the battles, nor to understand the crazy loss of life and the casualties for very little military advantage. Neither could we have visited all the sites although we are closer now to having absorbed the full, sobering enormity of this dreadful War. That so many people of all nationalities still visit the battlefields in quiet reverence is an important tribute to the fallen of both sides for wich the cemeteries, memorials and battle sites serve as a sharp focus. We were enormously grateful for the kindness of RLGC members Michael Postlethwaite who gave us detailed accounts and maps of the Somme, and Don Wilson III who gave us not only the informative guide books from Major and Mrs Holt but moving books 'Never Such Innocence', an anthology of poems compiled by Martin Stephens and 'The Great War' by Paul Fussell.

Many WW1 soldiers were impressively literate, some famously so, and recorded their feelings in their poetry, letters and newspapers such as the Wipers Times. We cannot do better than to repeat one of these poems by Carl Sandberg (1878 - 1967), an American poet, which had particular resonance to our visit, bleak though it is in reminding us all that war is a near permanent state somewhere in the world:

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.

Shovel them under and let me work.

I am the grass: I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg

And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.

Shovel them under and let me work.

Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:

What place is this?

Where are we now?

I am the grass.

Let me work.

Sunday 23 August - The Somme

And so on to the Somme - the very name of this rather small river fully redolent of the hopeless stalemate of the First World War and massive losses. Our variably trustworthy/untrustworthy GPS aid Daniel had us going to the wrong Bapaume before we bothered to check so we swung left to get ourselves to Albert instead. Here, the first sight was of the lustrous Virgin atop the Basilica in the centre of town. She was knocked from her precarious perch by German gunfire in early 1915 but amazingly did not fall then although she was destroyed by British shells when attacking occupied Albert in August 1918. The current shining version is a replica and visible for miles around. Again, there was almost too much to see and too many places to visit but we did attempt a representative sample. Firstly to the military cemetary at Ovillers near la Boiselle which is home to hundreds of graves of the Tyneside Irish and Middlesex Regiment soldiers many of whom died on 1st July as these 'Pals' walked up the hill into withering fire from the German forces. The terrain here is gently undulating farmland for maize and sugar beet but the dips and folds in the ground could hide troops while the crests provided good defences and sweeping fields of fire. The poorly trained troops of Kitchener's New Army stood little chance as they advanced up the hill to near certain death or wounding.

On then to Thiepval and the Ulster Tower which were in the thick of the Somme engagements from July to September. The fierce Ulstermen had made the most ground in the general advance in July and taken two lines of German defences before they had to retreat as they were unsupported on their flanks. The small cafe at the Tower is run by a lovely lady from Bangor, County Down called Phoebe who has been resident in the Tower for these last 8 years. She was splendidly welcoming. On the way in, there was a very sweet little girl called Victoria from NI sitting on the gate post who proudly showed us her drawing of the Tower. Piled by the cafe, was an assortment of shell cases and other ferrous items from the war for inspection/collection. We also took in Mametz Wood where the 38th Welsh had a hard time trying to take the wood from the south and across a fully exposed approach. That they succeeded at the second attempt was testament to their tenacity although they had attracted criticism for their first attack which was judged by some as not showing sufficient resolve(!) despite casualty figures in these actions of some 4000. There is an attractive memorial of a bright red Welsh Dragon facing the wood.

After this, it was time to find a home for the night. A neat and shaded camp site was signposted at Authuille, right on the British front line of 1916 and we happily parked the van there. We finally cooked the dormant reserve cassoulet of duck, sausage and white beans from the remnants of our depleted food store. We even finished just about all our boxed wines. Fortunately, we were approached by a British couple of caravanistas for advice on their failed electrical supply (which we were unable to resolve without the help of le patron) but Dave and Maureen from Glasgow proved to be generous hosts as we helped them deplete their opening stock of scotch and red wine. So, eventually, we stumbled back for our last night in EMU and felt no pain.

Saturday 22 August - Ypres, Passchendaele and the Salient

Our bikes came into their own again today as we made our way round some of the many monuments, tributes and battle grounds around Ypres. We started at the thoroughly impressive informative 'In Flanders Fields' museum on the first floor of the Cloth Hall. The exhibits, the recreation of the atmosphere and the story of the battles was so well done that emotion flowed freely. From the outset, the visitor was presented with a kaleidoscope of startling noises and images in a real and successful attempt to recreate the confusion and fear of battle. Time, events, shouts, blasts and colours were jumbled together to convey the scenes. Trying to make sense of this assault on the senses wasn't easy but it was a very effective introduction. There were plenty of interactive consoles to give information about aspects of the war and specific battles and individuals. Life size models of men and horses illustrated various scenarios and these had all been skilfully done in a light grey, fibrous material to represent the Flanders mud. Quite special were the readings of famous poems by, I think, Rupert Brooke and Wilfred Owen. There was a fine collection of labelled artefacts on display which had been culled from donations from other smaller museums, military units and the families of the soldiers. Tributes were, we were pleased to observe, paid to allied as well as enemy troops. The final exhibit was the re-creation of No Mans land and the visitor was given yet another vivid but grim experience with which to depart. An amazing visit which took nearly two hours to absorb.

We next went to the Menin Gate, a large memorial built on the site of an old Vauban gateway fron Ypres which marked the road taken by tens of thousands of British and Allied soldiers on their way to the front line. The memorial lists the names of 55,000 soldiers who were killed on the Salient before August 1917 and who had simply disappeared: 'He is not missing, he is here.' was the tribute paid at the official opening in 1927. On that day, The Last Post was sounded at the Gate for the first time; since then it has been played every single day to an audience of anyone who wishes to attend. It is amazingly well attended.

From there, we cycled to Hill 60 and its craters, blockhouse, trenches and memorial to the Queen Victoria's Rifles. This hill was lost to the Germans in 1914. Thereafter, it was the site of underground warfare as a large mine, perhaps the first British mine, was exploded underneath the enemy's trenches on 17 February 1915. Bigger and more destructive mines were detonated later before the infantry regained the hill in April 1915. There are many bodies still in the ground underneath Hill 60.

We continued on to the villages of Geluveld, Passchendaele and St Juliaan stopping whenever we came across a monument or cemetery which are, of course, frequent and moving for what they represent. We were particularly appreciative of the simple but remarkably effective Canadian memorial 'The Brooding Soldier' standing with arms reversed as if at a funeral which marked where 2000 deaths were caused by the first use of gas by the German forces. Finally, we arrived at Zonnebeke where there was yet another excellent museum all about Passchendaele. Relatively newly opened in 2004 its final and most moving exhibit was a re-creation of a complete underground trench network over two floors to illustrate not just the construction but the maze of interconnecting corridors and the living conditions, armourer at work repairing weapons and the bloody work of the military surgeon.

Later, before supper in the main square back at Ypres, we were two of at least 1000 people who paid silent tribute to the fallen as The Last Post was played at the Menin Gate. An emotionally draining day but we had only been able to scratch the surface of this battleground.

Friday 21 August - Waterloo and Ypres

We felt obliged to complete our interest in Wellington after the Peninsular War by visiting Waterloo about 20km south of Brussels. After 150km of driving, the battle site was a major disappointment. With management handed over to a commercial enterprise at some point in recent years, it looked and felt more like a theme park. Visitors were obliged to pay for everything (even the lavatory at 0.40 cents), there was a huge amount of Napoleonic tat available for sale to the unwary at inflated prices and all the notable places attracted an admission charge. The so-called 'Information Centre' controlled access to all the points of interest in the interests of making money from the many visitors of many nationalities present (including Japanese?). We declined but got on our bikes and found the back route (by following the tourist train!) to Hougumont Farm which was a major centre of fighting in 1815. By contrast, this was pretty neglected and run down with many key features in poor repair or partially obscured. Oddly enough, this made the atmosphere much more real and historically interesting. We approached the North Gate where some very brave fighting took place - both by attackers and defenders - then to the South Gate which was largely unchanged since the battle. The farm was much bigger than we had expected and to the east was a large orchard/paddock surrounded by a solid brick wall with fenestrations which had helped the defenders frustrate the successive French attacks. We found a way in over some wire and took a picture of the neglected memorial to the French who lost there lives there. There is apparently a project to restore/refurbish the farm to close to its original condition. By doing so, proper and due tribute could be paid to those who fought there. Please, though, let it not be managed by a for profit agency.

Perhaps the worst feature of Waterloo was the starkly inappropriate conical mound rising pyramid like out of the surrounding countryside which bore a statue of a Lion and which was constructed in the 1820s at the place where the Prince of Orange, an inexperienced and immature General of just 24 years of age, was wounded. Despite the fact that he made some crass decisions during the course of the battle, this horrid monument dominates the area when other far more worthy commanders are ignored.

Disappointed and miffed, we moved on quickly. This time, back to an important WW1 area round Ypres, also in Belgium. On the way into the city, we diverted to Tyne Cot, a British Military cemetery beautifully designed by British architect Sir Herbert Baker and gained a clear but sobering view of the casualties and impact of the war near here. Subsequently, we found a quiet spot in the car park of the local hospital in Ypres which would be home for the next two nights. Ypres itself was a wonderful surprise with an imposing centre to the town with its variety of tall, distinguished and ornate buildings whivh created a sense of grandeur and a fine backdrop to the human activity at road level. After a modest clean-up, we went into town where we had an excellent meal in the Grande Place in the shadow of the famous Cloth Hall which had been completely and faithfully rebuilt after being nearly destroyed by German artillery fire in 1916. We had also been able to enjoy a beer in the adjacent tea house which had been just a pile of rubble at the height of the war.

Thursday 20 August - Verdun and La Rochette in Luxembourg

Verdun is a frightening place to this day. It was M1's first sight of the vast areas of cratering caused by the shelling. Although now overgrown, the scale of the destruction and loss of life is unimaginable. In the period from February to December 1916, the French forces lost over 400,000 soldiers, the Germans some 300,000. Most were just obliterated by the relentless shelling, The main and lasting tribute to the French is the large and imposing Ossuary set prominently at Douaumont. Fronted by the graves of some 15,000 named dead, the ossuary houses the bones of 130,000 unnamed soldiers. There was a moving film shown near the main entrance hall about the life of a French soldier at Verdun then visitors moved quietly and reflectively into the nave-like upper hall where there were moving photographs of survivors of both sides then and and in later life as well as the inscribed names of the known dead. Above this nave and chapel, there is a 150ft tower from which the whole area could be seen. Everybody who visits or goes there in the future would wonder and despair at the stupidity of the war.

After this visit, we needed a coffee and some quiet time both of which were fortunately available nearby in the only permitted cafe/restaurant, Following this, and on bikes, we were able to visit other key places such as the memorial to Albert Maginot who master minded the Maginot Line of defences - ironically at the same time (1932) as the finishing touches were being put to the Ossuary monument which people hoped would mark reason over warlike tendencies and ambitions. There were sobering parts of the area which had been whole villages which were reduced to muddy, desolate craters and rubble (Fleury, Forges, Malancourt) where there were simple stones telling the visitor where the baker, the plumber, the church had been. We also visited the Trench of the Bayonets, paid tribute to the Wounded Lion statue which marked the furthest advance of the German Army to Verdun itself and generally took in the atmosphere. We left with a huge but sadly hopeless respect for the soldiers who gave their all and for those who had dignified their contribution so sympatheticallty and well.

By early afternoon we had had enough and jumped in the van and moved north into Luxembourg to a town called La Rochette. Luxembourg is well kept with smooth roads, orderly houses all well painted in a narrow range of slightly intense V&A colours and gently undulating countryside. The family of McD's chum from Prestbury, Peter Van Der Feltz, had once owned the Chateau at la Rochette so it was fun to find it, admire it, take photos but not to pay the entrance fee to go in!

There was a campsite nearby but this proved to be quite unacceptable to grumpy old men like us - full of families and kids having fun in the pool and elsewhere. It was a Eurocamp site - remember those? But no thanks this time around so we reversed and found another (Auf Kengert) just a few miles further away which was well organised but quieter and with a well run restaurant which we used to our pleasure later.

Wednesday 19 August - On to Verdun

After another sumptuous breakfast chez Bambury, we sourced some local wines to take home then set off late morning after saying our farewells to drive to Verdun - a more sobering prospect which would mark our final phase.

Verdun is where, starting on 21st February 1916, the German High Command aimed to bleed France dry by launching an overwhelmingly powerful thrust which the French would be unable to resist, which would break their will to continue the fight and would weaken the Allied effort in north where there was a stalemate across the trenches. On the first day of the bombardment, the Germans fired 2 million tons of ordnance over a 15 mile front in less than 12 hours. They believed that the subsequent advance by six infantry divisions would be a formality but amazingly, enough French soldiers had survived to limit the advance despite huge losses. The battle continued after the French had reorganised under a slogan of 'Ils ne passeront pas' well into June by which time the German resolve had weakened.

The approach to Verdun as a town was uninspiring with large prominent advertisements for the inevitable McDonalds joint appearing regularly then a succession of unattractive, modern store complexes on its outer limits. We didn't press on into the old town which may well have been better but went out to the north at the end of a long drive (made longer by M1 missing a crucial turn onto the correct motorway and found a municipal campsite on the river but next to a busy road at Bras sur Meuse. This was cheap but pretty poor but we were in no mood to find a better one. We dined on board cheaply but well from minimal stock - bread, ham, eggs and garlic! - while watching other campers parade in an assortment of unflattering clothes to and from the nearby ablutions block; no inspiring sights!

Tuesday 18 August - Golf at Alsace GC

Philip turned his hand to breakfast pretty well (boiled eggs hard enough for a salad nicoise!) after taking the dogs for their customary morning walk. Then it was in his VW Passat for a quick journey to his Club at Alsace for our much vaunted game of golf. We were yet again given a great welcome from the CE/General Manager, David Abercrombie and his dog, Caddy. David had been responsible, after a visit to Hoylake, for getting M1 and Philip back in contact with each other after the burglary at Hoylake in 1999 which had stolen all personal records. A delightful Irishman, David had been at the helm of his Club and course since the outset some 14 years previously. His avowed intent has been to create a links course even though the site is about 700km from the nearest sea shore! That he has succeeded is testament to his knowledge, goals, ideals and skill. The course was a delight to play. David had resisted any temptation to over-design the holes but had used the existing features in the predominantly flat terrain to good effect. The bunkering was minimal but with good placement and they looked natural, often with overgrown surrounds on the hole side, to obviate the need for revetted faces. Best of all, the course had reasonably tight fairways and firm greens so a ball could be heard to land before it ran on - and this despite the difficulty in establishing fescue grass cover. Congratulations well due.

Over coffee, we were introduced to the fourth player, David Kane, a cheery chemist who had established his own technical consultancy business in Basel. So the tourists took on the two local members 4BBB. Despite a valiant fight back by the tourists from being 4 down at one stage and with a brief period actually ahead on the back nine, Philip and David won on the last hole with a rock solid par 5. Ah well! A smashing day nonetheless.

On the way back to Schallstadt, we stopped off at Neuf Brisach on the French side of the Rhine to marvel at this perfectly symmetrical and seemingly impregnable fortified town designed and built by Vauban to the order of King Louis XIV in the late 17th century. This was thought necessary by the French king to protect the border after the former French town of Brisach on the other side of the Rhine was conceded to Germany under treaty arrangements. The strength of it's fortifications were fortunately never tested.

In the evening, it was our turn to entertain the Bamburys and to partly repay their hospitality. Renate had booked a table for supper at the very nearby but quite delightful Rossle (Little Horse) Gasthof. Under a roseate sky in the courtyard of this excellent hostelry, friendships were cemented, appetites were satisfied and exploits shared. It was inspiring to hear how their son, Bernie, a captain in The Rifles, who had lost the lower part of his right leg on the Cresta Run a year before, had recuperated and used his disability (is that the right word to use?) to inspire others, to run again (using an Oscar Pretorius type sprung prosthesis), to continue skiing and to have rowed the Atlantic. How's that for making the best of a personal injury? We took Renate to our hearts especially after she presented each of us with genuine four leafed clovers - just for good luck. A terrific day all round.

Monday 17 August - To Schallstadt

After saying goodbye to the excellent people who ran our favourite campsite so well (Annick, Phillippe and their young grandaughter Chloe) Monday was a travelling day which seemed to take a long time in the very warm weather. Schallstadt, just south of Freiburg in the Black Forest region of Germany, is where M1's pal Philip Bambury from MoD all those years ago, now lives with his German born wife Renate. It had always been the intention to visit them and now the time had finally arrived. The journey took us slowly up and over the Jura mountains eventually dropping down through Gex with fabulous views of Lake Leman and Geneva to Divonne then along the north side of the lake (heavy traffic due to roadworks) through Lausanne, Bern, Basel and onwards through Switzerland (which was chocolate box scenic, neat and tidy) and across the Rhine into Germany. We arrived to a warm and enthusiastic welcome from our hosts, a licking from Jessie and Kiwi their two black labradors, then shared a few cold beers. We were happy to be there and able to relax. Although we intended to sleep in the van, conveniently parked in the adjacent farm, Philip insisted that we use his excellent shower and loo facilities in his rather grand cellar conversion. This was probably because he feared we might stink a bit after nearly 4 months in the van! We scrubbed up and changed then were treated to a BBQ on the terrace as the impending rain clouds subsided. We were light on gifts but we did put aside a reasonable bottle of Portuguese red wine bottled for the bicentenary of the battle of Vimeiro in 2008 which we hope Philip and Renate will put to best use. During and after supper, we talked and drank too much but it was a real and relaxing treat.

Sunday 16 August - The weekend disappears

After breakfast together at the hotel, M1 enjoyed a chat with the boulanger on his way back to the campsite. Baking starts at 2.00am with the number of loaves variable depending on the day of the week. He watched him expertly make a raft of pains au raisin so quickly and with such great pride that it was a pity not to eat one straight away.

The McDs had to check out of the hotel and planned another walk before Ann's departure. M1 went for a swift ride up the valley to Lelex, about 8 miles, and return at faster pace but just right to allow time for the van to be prepared for the journey to Geneva and a shower and clean up. We all left just after 1.00pm with all of us amazed at how quickly Ann's visit had come to its end. We bade her a fond farewell after a tasty club sandwich in the airport restaurant then made our way back to Chezery and out final, delightful meal with the Blancs.

M1 was back in the van that night as the tent had been dismantled in case of bad weather.

Saturday 15 August - A gentle day at Chezery but with a moment of excitement!

After our fine meal of Valserine trout last evening, we all took breakfast at the Hotel de Commerce and arranged a gentle walk in tha woods alongside the valley to le Pont de Diable which we started mid morning. This suited M1 as well as he didn't want to put his calf under any undue pressure. The pace was fine and acceptable to all although the high temperature took its toll and we sweated well on even the modest climbs. After eating our lunch apples by the bridge we turned for home on the east side with M1 leading (unusually). As we approached La Riviere on a gentle sentier, an incident occurred! M1 took to the air! He was about to set his right foot down, he saw La Serpente, a huge, aggressive and poisonous beast who was as shocked as M1. M1 became airborne in the Icarus mode despite his painful calf and shouted hard while the poor frightened snake scurried away (actually, it was grey/black but was a good metre long and no chances were taken). Amusement for those following but they confirmed the experience and didn't take any chances on the rest of the walk.

Supper together chez Famille Blanc - duck pate then chicken cooked in butter and a lovely nougat glace for pud. My sort of meal!

Friday 14 August - A Guest in the Van

The McDs made good time back to Chezery from the airport and despite the late hour we sat round to enjoy a cold platter of meats and cheeses, a few glasses of wine and a chat. With M1 committed to the tent for the night, Ann mentally prepared herself for her night in the van - was there a hint of doubt there I wonder? All passed off OK with the McDs up early to present M1 with a very welcome mug of tea in bed. He had spent the most comfortable night of the tour on the airbed - an experience he might well repeat!

After breakfast, the McDs set off for a walk to Le Pont de Diable which took them 4 hours or so. M1 gave them space and elected for a challenging bike ride down the valley to St Germain de Joux, than up the adjacent valley through Echallon, the splendidly named but uninspiring Belleydoux and on to Rochefort near St Claude. Apart from some short seeming runs down at various stages this was some pretty daunting climbing work. Rochefort was at 30 miles and refreshments were called for. A delicious orangina, salad, boule de glace and a cafe later he set off on what he had read from the map as a predominantly downhill stretch to Mijoux at the top of the Valserine valley. Unfortunately, the map had been misread. The twists and turns were so frequent the down arrows were in fact up arrows all the way to Lajoux about 10 miles of hard labour. The route home from Mijoux is predominantly down hill so recovery occurred while descending at an average of about 20mph. 56 miles in all, a terrific ride and good exercise.

Pre-dinner drinks were held at the van before yet another fine meal of Valserine Truite a la Meuniere in the village in good company. I think Ann had enjoyed her first relaxing day.

Thursday 13 August - At Chezery

Having started out in late April when some trees in Northern Spain were still bare and the first fresh green leaves were on others, we have now been away long enough for the seasons to have advanced significantly. We had noticed that the area around Briancon was significantly less green than areas to the north and in Italy. Driving to Chezery, we could see crops being harvested, trees now laden with walnuts, apples, plums and hazelnuts. Some vine leaves are now withering but their fruit, whether green or red, is starting to look heavy and obvious. The corn is as high as an elephant's eye and there are distinct changes in tree colourings as autumn approaches. Also, the sun is lower in the sky and even though we had parked in exactly the same spot as the last two times, the sun didn't reach us until at least an hour later. It also seemed distinctly cooler at night.

So we pottered today but we did identify a better, quieter spot nearer the river and further away from both road and adjacent water construction site wher they start work at 7.00am! We moved all our gear, including flagpole, tent and van and professed ourselves much pleased with the choice. It was hot - 28 degrees - so in leisurely time M2 went for some exercise under the trees next to the Valserine and M1 rode down the valley on quiet roads and almost made Nantua but for the unusually high number of text messages received which needed replies while en route. A smashing ride nonetheless.

In the evening, McD went to Geneva to collect his beloved. M1 bemused the local campinistas by staying put into the approaching dark with tent, table and laptop awaiting their late return!

Wednesday 12 August - Back to Chezery-Forens again

Although Nadine departed for work early, Bruno extended his hospitalityby serving us breakfast on the terrace complete with Earl Grey tea - from a tea pot! After further tours of his motor bike, the drum kit, allowing us to access his wifi internet connection and exchanging contact details, we reluctantly but necessarily made our farewells. Bruno and Nadine were quite outstandingly interesting and generous hosts. We both really, really hope to meet them again.

The drive from Crolles to Chezery-Forens was uneventful and only about 2.5 hours of travel. Chezery has turned out to be very much our favourite place with its friendly people and unspoiled appeal. The reason this time, was that Mrs Ann McD was flying in specially to join us and spend a nigfht in the van! M1 meanwhile, would look forward to a night in the tent and have more room than he had had on any other night!

We checked in in leisurely fashion with the impressively quiet but strong Phillippe and his wife Anique, then relaxed and looked forward to our 14 euro meal at Chez Blanc later in the evening. It was good to be back.

Tuesday 11 August - Golf at Grenoble and a wonderful French couple

We set off at 9.00am for our tee time at 10.18 but in doing so missed our fresh bread and croissants from Jean-Luc who had had a late night and who we passed going in the other direction somewhere en route. The Bressons golf course was carved out of the woods and undulating terrain typical of the area. American in appearance, we came to realise that this extended to the many large and sometimes inappropriately placed bunkers which were not in great shape after recent rain. Nevertheless, we happily hit a bucket of balls on the range and set off for 9 holes, lunch and then the second nine - all with the administration's approval. The quality of golf was, as expected, variable but M1 was one up at lunch. The walk back to the Clubhouse was pretty long - more of a randonnee in golf shoes and carrying our clubs. Lunch on the terrace was light and tasty and we practiced the art of people watching. We both very much like the informality of European Clubs as far as dress and dining are concerned. Golfers of both sexes were casually dressed but looked clean, natural and wholesome. In the UK, unfortunately, casual means dressing in clothes to wash the car. Nevertheless, there is a model here that UK Clubs should not ignore. Golf International de Grenoble, to give the place its full title, is also sponsored by patron companies with small discrete placards at the tee, acknowledgement shown on the course guide and listed near the 1st tee (Gold, Silver, Bronze). If UK Clubs fail to go some way towards this system, then subscriptions must rise significantly. We feel sure that an accommodation could be made without compromising the status of a private Club.

After lunch, we were driven out to the 10th tee to resume our round. All looked good and there was a neat space for us on the course. However, the 11th hole was a par 3 and there was a queue of players from green to tee. We made our peace with the group behind us when they appeared on the tee. Fortunately, we played both 11th and 12th in reasonable time to re-establish the separation. Then McD was approached by someone at the 12th green. Initially, we both thought that this indicated a problem. But no - Bruno Campignotti, who had been playing in the 3 Ball ahead together with a husband and wife had been asked to leave them (he had joined them when his other playing partners had walked in) as his presence was putting the lady off her game! We were pleased to welcome him. Bruno proved to be a delightful companion and a pretty useful golfer with a swing reminiscent of Jim Furyk's (octopus and trees?). He had excellent English and despite our valiant attempts to talk in French, for the sake of ease, we quickly gave in and lapsed back into our mother tongue. The golf was again variable over the tricky closing holes but the humour and exchange was good. Bruno joined us for a welcome beer after play then astonished us by inviting us back to his house for dinner having consulted his wife - it might even have been her idea! We had explained that we were waifs and strays travelling in an ancient camper van but he batted not an eyelid and said we could park the van in his drive or even take a bed in his house. This was an offer we could not possibly refuse so we high tailed it back to the campsite - inevitably in the wrong direction - broke camp, cleaned up and presented ourselves Chez Campagnotti at about 7.45pm to another enthusiastic and warm welcome.

Bruno's lovely wife, Nadine also made us feel very welcome and proceeded to ply us with blinis and tapenade, grilled shrimps with provencal sauce, the most divine tomato, mozzarella and basil salad, followed by grilled meats and sausages with haricots verts and ratatouille. Bruno meanwhile kept his end up by offering us several delicious wines. Their house at Crolles was set almost directly against a sheer 1000 ft cliff face at the back but with uninterrupted views across the valley to the front. Complete with heated pool, a myriad of umbrellas, sunshades, lights, terraces and garden furniture, they were fully geared for outdoor living. We dined on the back terrace and got to know our hosts ever better and like them even more - not just for their wonderful and unexpected generosity, but also for their warmth, interest, values and love for each other and for life. Bruno, a lecturer at Grenoble University with responsibility for Economic English showed his energy, vitality

and diversity at every turn. Aged 60, he played golf, skied (mostly off piste), climbed via ferrate, played the drums and owned a Harley Davidson lookalike motor bike (just 125cc) which he and Nadine chugged happily round the region. Nadine - vivacious and surely younger than Bruno - was an administrator at Grenoble's main hospital. She was also potty about her rabbit Katy (who we have to say was very cute!) which had been a present from her son when their rescued dog had died four years previously at the age of 17.

Nadine would not let us escape without a range of cheeses and some excellent sorbet (Picard is the name for quality, she says). Asked about why the French choose to serve cheeses before dessert, Nadine was forthright "Why you English no finish your meal with something sweet? You are mad!". We also had to sample some locally made wines/spirits made, we were told proudly, by Nadine's Mum. We both came away with a bottle suitably labelled on the spot using labels from her handbag!

Without doubt, this was a memorable and most wonderful night for the travellers who were made to feel thoroughly at home in a stranger's house after meeting for just six holes of the marvellous game of golf. Reluctantly, we made our way to the van for the night stop. Just as we settled down, there was a huge noise from inside the house as Bruno gave us a roll of his drums. I hope he didn't upset the neighbours!