Friday 26 June - Bucaco

We woke up to a glorious morning in our quiet glade and breakfasted 'al fresco' before moving off by 9.30. As we suspected, Bucaco was just 4km along the road and approached through a large stone arch with the cobbled road winding upwards through a heavily wooded area. It seemed more like driving into a private estate. Parking was well organised but we hadn't expected the glorious setting of an old convent, the splendid Palace Hotel set in formal, well tended gardens in the surrounds of an extensive arboretum. Firstly, we walked further on to view the excellent Military Museum which had many original exhibits and engravings mostly about the Battle at Bucaco. This occupied us for nearly two hours then another short walk to the monument to the battle set somewhat higher at about 580m. Although the Bucaco Ridge is now heavily wooded, we had to imagine the scene in September 1810 when the terrain was more open and scrubby. Nevertheless, we were completely unable to understand why Massena committed his army against the British and Portugese with a full frontal assault up what was so steep a ridge as to give the impression it was a wall. Historians claim that Massena had poor intelligence about Wellington's location and strength and believed that the Portugese would not fight but even so, the route he chose was a difficult one, the terrain channelled his effort into favourable Allied killing zones and a near rout occurred. Portugese pride in the fine way their soldiers acquitted themselves was an important factor in the future fortunes of the war. There were graphic ceramic tributes to Wellington and other scenes of the battle inside the 5 star Palace Hotel and we took pleasure in standing under the very same olive tree in the courtyard under which Wellington was said to have sat. He stayed the night in the adjacent convent and this is marked by an inscription.

We needed to celebrate and mark this moment in our memories and do justice to this famous victory so we took lunch on the terrace accompanied by some fine wines for which the hotel is famous. A superb experience with roasted suckling pig and saddle of rabbit as main courses!

The venue was so good that we decided to remain there overnight although as soon as we had moved the van into the optimum position, two other camper cars (from France) arrived to slightly spoil our idyll. No worries - they never came out it seemed! M1 couldn't resist a bike ride so ventured out the 15 km downhill to Mortagua knowing that it would be the same uphill on the way back but it was hugely enjoyable. Needing no supper after such a fine lunch, we walked uphill again and found Brigadier General Robert Craufurd's command post well positioned near an old windmill. This is where 'Black Bob' urged his men of the 52nd to 'Avenge John Moore' which they duly did.

All in all, a great day.

Thursday 25 June

It rained heavily overnight and the deserted track we had parked close by turned out to be a short cut for the locals so traffic was more than expected! Up and about we had another excellent breakfast of scrambled eggs - again better than in any hotel of recent experience - and we were off to sort the fridge (and heater) problem out. At Campinanda in Alcabideche, we had met Joachim Costas who ran a mobile SOS facility for caravans and vans. We had his card so the previous evening we had made arrangements to meet him in Torres Vedras, a stroke of luck as it was only 40 minutes south. Even though we would have preferred not to retrace our steps slightly, we did so willingly. We met up easily and after 30 minutes or so he had sorted out both problems with no spare parts required then delighted us by not charging us a cent. Such a good man but in retrospect perhaps we should have given him a good bottle of wine as a token of our thanks.

Now completely and fully serviceable (again!), we headed north towards Coimbra and Bucaco the scene of the next battle of interest. We diverted to the attractive town of Batalha on the way as we were intrigued that there must have been an important battle there in its history. This proved to be an early battle for the throne of Portugal of no great interest to us but the monastery was splendid described as 'a masterpiece of Portugese Gothic and Manueline art'. It was easily found and very ornately impressive with its honey coloured stone discoloured at height by the weather. Inside, it was huge - as big as Liverpool Anglican cathedral - and surprisingly plain. M1 was pleased to take a photo of the tomb of Prince Henry the Navigator (1394 - 1460) for obvious reasons!

On then towards Bucaco and moored the boat in a delightful wooded spot on the slopes of the Bucaco Ridge with the intention of exploring the battle site tomorrow.

Wednesday 24 June - Rolica

We both slept well once we had dealt with the biting flying occupants who were unfortunately sharing our space and were ready to move on at a good hour. The van had become very dirty in store at Campinananda so we called in to the adjacant jetwash and gave her a birthday treat before heading further north to Rolica, the scene of Wellington's first engagement with the French under Dellaborde since his arrival in Portugal in late summer or 1808. It was an important battle (well celebrated alongside the Vimeiro battle on 21 August) as Wellington needed the engagement before French reinforcements arrived from the east as well as to demonstrate his winning ways. History shows it as a modest victory against an inferior force but an important milestone nonetheless. Vimeiro, just four days later was a more decisive battle but their collective impact reversed the fortunes of the French and improved allied morale no end.

Rolica is a very small village and we soon ran through it. We parked up, orientated ourselves then biked around, exploring the site. Our bikes have been a key ingredient to getting around narrow streets, tracks and buildings in search of our objectives. Firstly, we were able to identify the ridge which was the French first position, looking north from an elevated position towards open country and Obidos from where the British forces were advancing. Behind the French was a sharper ridge with three prominent gullies and they retreated to this to avoid being outflanked. The French had a strong defensive position, fought well but reinforcements did not arrive so Dellaborde was forced to retreat to the south but not before dealing a severe blow to the British centre when Col Lake (Nightingall's 3rd Brigade) took the 1/29th into one of the gullies unsupported with major loss of life. We were unable to find the memorial built to Lake in the village of Serranos which also seemed to have disappeared!

Lunch was taken with the added benefit of some juicy, ripe, red plums growing untended in a hedgerow. Even M2 couldn't resist a bowl full with yoghurt and honey. Was this living off the land we wondered?

We pressed on after lunch towards Peniche, an attractive looking promontory on the map, but this turned out to be a heavily populated beach/tourist area. We continued and found a secluded spot in woods on the way to the exclusive golf resort of Praia d'el Rey. No charges here but a good meal chez nous of coq-au-vin (one colour cooking as averything took on the dark hue of the red wine), a chat and to bed. However, our fridge gas fired option had failed to ignite so this will have to be sorted tomorrow. Just when we thought everything was fully serviceable!

Tuesday 23 June - Back in Portugal

Well - here we are back in Lisbon again after our week of personal admin at our respective homes. The early morning BMI Baby flight from Manchester didn't seem quite as painful as the hour suggested and it was certainly less irritating than the trip home seven days earlier. Landing on time, we were through the formalities painlessly and after a coffee and a short wait for a taxi we were on our way to reacquaint ourselves with the van by 10.10. The taxi driver, a cheery chap called Fernando, had as much trouble finding Campinanda as we did but we were there quite soon and delighted that Mykola, the Ukrainian mechanic, was there happily nodding that all had been done. This included a new awning (old one in a poor state on purchase, subsequently damaged and removed), strengthening of the local repairs to the bike rack and fixing the hot water bolier and the heater. EMU was now in as good a state as she had ever been in our ownership. Paying for the work was a problem as our Nationwide VISA card was not accepted neither were our personal debit cards suitable. So off we went in search of cash eventaually achieved after chasing around various multibank outlets.

By now, it was mid afternoon and we were not inclined to travel far. Last week, we had seen what appeared to be a good camp at Ericeira on the coast to the north so we headed that way, both feeling fairly tired. The campsite was quite excellent although very large but didn't have any of the shanty town appearance of the one at Santa Cruz. In fact, the facilities were quite excellent and couldn't have been more than a couple of years old and beautifully clean. We were a bit lack lustre after our early start in UK so it was an easy decision to eat out rather than shop, prepare then cook. Bikes out and just a few hundred yards up the road we found Dom Carlos, a splendid fish restaurant with no other customers on a Tuesday night (although a local family turned up later). We were welcomed by the all male staff (three for each of us) who proudly showed us their impressive array of seafood various (groupa, oysters, crabs, lobsters, crayfish, dorada, rouget etc etc) the we chose a window table looking out at a smooth, blue and benign Atlantic below a lovely setting sun. Shrimps, garlic bread, cheese and sausage was produced without it needing to be ordered then we chose a local Bacalhau (salt cod) cooked in garlic with potatoes which was marvellous and far more than we could eat. Followed by a couple of glasses of Dona Antonia Ferreira port, we were pleased that the journey back to the van was a short safe one.

Friday 12 June - Ortiga to Torres Vedras

M1 tried a short ride first thing in the very hilly terrain but didn’t get very far. He had not spent so much time in the 3rd chainring before. Even though coming down hill at 42 mph was exhilarating the average speed of 10.7 mph says it all.

We wanted to compliment the management on departure but the empty reception meant we could only leave a thank you note. Through some tortuously narrow roads we eventually got on the A23 to the west and arrived by lunchtime in Torres Vedras. It was a bigger town than the map suggested but surrounded by compact, steep hills and with a prominent fort atop the old town. A coffee and a sandwich in the town centre while waiting for the tourist office to open gave us the chance to appreciate how the town had blended old and new. It had a good atmosphere. In a prominent central location there was a large and impressive monument to the Peninsular War, inscriptions recording the battles of Rolica, Vimeiro, Busaco and the part played by Wellington and his army. In the adjacent museum housed in part of an old convent, there was a good display of Peninsular War memorabilia including an oak table at which it was recorded that Wellington signed the Sintr Agreement which governed the terms of the French surrender. This agreement which gave the French free passage back to France in RN ships received widespread condemnation back in England and a formal Inquiry was instituted. There were some robust exchanges between Wellesley (as he was than) and his superiors and the following day we obtained a verbatim transcript of the proceedings and findings. Fascinating stuff.

The only camp site in the area was at Santa Cruz on the coast about 15 km away (see picture above). We found it easily enough as it was huge! With nowhere else available, we took a spot crowded in by caravans and tents only to have to move as our electricity cable was too short to reach the supply point. Once settled, it became clear that we were in a voluntary concentration camp: surrounded by high wire fences, control of entry, guards, badges, blocks for sanitation etc on a vast site which was largely taken up with permanent or semi-permanent bungalows, caravans and tents with fully demarked territorial rights established. Grim but they did have a supermercado, a butchers and a bakery on site. We soon resolved to escape although we recognised that we would need to remain there for two nights to explore the important battle sites. Out came the bikes and we shot down to the coast where the Atlantic was majestic and the claustrophobia of the camp site was dispelled. Despite nominating this day as a no alcohol day, we had a couple of cold beers in a seafront bar served by a lovely creature whose attributes included a lovely smile which made us feel much better and wish we were younger.

Mon 15 June - Campinanda and SAS Radisson

The quiet beach at Colada

Since we had booked a BMI Baby flight home for seven days leaving on Tuesday, we had a plan to see if we could get some repairs done to the van thereby saving on the cost of parking at the airport. After some square searching, we found Campinanda Reparaciones near Caiscais where, with the help of another campinista, we explained what we wanted done to the accommodating engineer Mykola – a Ukrainian! With most of our worldly possessions still on board, we left EMU in his care and set off in a taxi to a hotel near the airport. The best deal was at the SAS Radisson so we smartened up in our room (hot water, toilet paper provided and a double bed each) and bussed into the city for a meal. We found an airy and open restaurant but sat just inside rather than out in the oppressive heat which was just as well when very large raindrops, thunder and lightning arrived overhead to cause a major evacuation of the terrace and some unhappy looking staff who had to rescue the brollies, tables, chairs and place settings shoved around by the wind and rain.

With full tummies, we ambled slowly back towards our hotel pausing only to quench our thirst at a tiny bar (50cl white wine at 1.90 euros), a nightcap in the Radisson bar then bed before our departure for UK the following morning.

The blog will resume on Tue 23 June when we fly back to Lisbon and hope to collect our fully operational van from the Ukrainian.

Sun 14 June - Vimeiro and Torres Vedras

Fresh bread for breakfast then a quick departure towards Vimeiro to get back on the battle trail. Looking at the terrain, it was clear that this would be better achieved on foot. The Vimeiro monument was well signposted, as noted by Paget, but when we reached it, it was simply splendid. We were amazed at its extent, scale, permanence and the clear affection which had been lavished on this tribute to the British and Portugese troops who had prevailed at this important battle. Road signs were dedicated to the battle, there were impressive blue and white tile tableaux depicting scenes from the battle and the disposition of forces surrounding the monument. This had been erected on the centenary of the battle (21 August 1808), the second battle in four days after Rolica when the Napoleonic forces had been defeated for the first time – a significant milestone. This 1908 anniversary had been attended by King Carlos although two years later he had been assassinated during the revolution.

The townsfolk had celebrated the 200^th anniversary in August last year with ceremonies and a recreation of the battle together with the building and furnishing of a well kept, clean and extensive visitor centre with many more tributes and memorabilia inside. The volunteer curator, Pedro, showed us round with obvious pride and knowledge and we spent a very fulfilling hour or more soaking up the information. It was Pedro who kindly furnished us with the 37 page report of the inquiry into the Sintra Agreement. We bought some Battle of Vimeiro wine and a key ring to show our support for their efforts and left with a real admiration for what the local townsfolk and Portugese Army had achieved.

On the way back down into the village, we stopped to look at the house which Wellington had stayed in and noted more road plaques and an 1808 Cafe/Restaurant.

Back to the van in good heart, we drove into Torres Vedras to the fortress and to orientate ourselves for our next quest – to find some of the Lines (deep, stone, fortified ditches built to Wellington’s personal direction along the lines of the surrounding hills) to protect Lisbon and the British Army from invasion by the French. These fortifications coupled with the natural terrain achieved their object admirably as General Massena retreated when he saw them for the first time in late 1811. Massena had, though, given the British engineers and their Portugese work force an unchallenged year in which to construct these defences.

Down from the fortress, we found the sign to the Lines of Torres Vedras Nos 20,21,22 and 23 and the Fort Sao Vicente (there had been 152 fortifications in total which were numbered according to their date of completion). A steep climb later we were there and these impressive defences were in front of us with all their strength, complexity and durability for all to see. We clambered around taking photographs and wondering at the vision, planning, effort and execution of this amazing project which had enabled Wellington to preserve his forces ready to advance through Portugal, Spain and into France. A second, wonderful aspect of the day.

As we departed, we had already resolved not to return to Camp Guantanamo Bay and headed further south towards Ericeira. We hadn’t lunched so when we spotted a delightful beach in a steep sided cove at Colada we parked at the bottom just yards from the beach and resolved to park there for the night. Families and sun bathers slipped away to leave us in sole occupation by mid evening. Although we were slightly nervous that we might be moved on (we were not camping, merely parking after all) we had a trouble free night shared only by the beach tractor which cleaned the beach at 1.30 am(!). A cool shower before breakfast of scrambled eggs (finest eggs yet) saw us on our way the following morning feeling much more independent.

Sat 13 June - Lisbon

As a break, we decided to don city wear and head for Lisbon, 45km to the south, to take advantage of a free wine tasting at the Sala da Vinhas in the city centre. We chose the slow route in and ended up chasing our tail around some of the outskirts when searching for the airport which seemed like a good place to park as well as recce for our planned flight out on the following Tuesday. We made it eventually, took a taxi into town (18 rather than the 5 euros expected for the fare) and turned up expectantly at the appointed place. Despite all the published info, it was shut for two days! Apparently, the two Portugese public holidays of the previous week had not been sufficient to give these good people their due rest.

Disappointed, we lumbered around the tourist area and the steep, narrow streets of the old town below the Castela without seeing much to interest us. We headed back toward the Centro de Commerce in search of a late lunch. Down a side road, there were plenty of tables set out and as we ambled down we were persuaded to take our seats by a young man who spoke good english. Although we assumed him to be a local, he in fact came from the Punjab and was serving in an Italian Restaurant that served Portugese food! As we ate, we were entertained by a talented street busker from Brazil. A thoroughly cosmopolitan experience for our meal of grilled sardines (M2) and boiled salt cod with chick peas (M1). Partly mollified but with the knowledge that we hadn’t done justice to this fine city, we boarded a bus back to the airport to recover to the Santa Cruz ghetto. But not without another high level brush between the van and a sun awning on the way out of the car park. Fortunately, no damage to either!

To avoid the depression of the camp site, we biked down to the sea front again as the wind picked up, the temperature dropped and the skies darkened. Cafe Bernard, although empty, beckoned to us mostly to get warm again. We received a bright welcome, a young waiter, Michael, of Portugese descent but who had lived in Switzerland for may years, scurried around and practised his English on us in a good hearted way. He was replaced by a more mature, ebullient Jose who worked hard for his tip but he faded away when we added this to the Visa card payment to the management. Nevertheless, the speciality Sopa de Marisco was excellent to finish the day better than it had started. A dash back up the hill without lights on the bikes fuelled with a little alcohol made the final night in Belsen just about bearable.

Thu 11 June - Elvas to Ortiga

Elvas, just over the border in Portugal, is another amazing fortress town flanked by two 17th century forts and with a massive and dominant aquaduct 7.79 km long from main fortress to presumably a reservoir designed in the 15^th but constructed in the 16^th century. A huge achievement. The city had no particular relevance to the Peninsular War although no doubt the armies of all protagonists would have passed through its environs at some stage. Guarding the Eastern approaches to Portugal, the main town was confined within the impressive citadel and was very much as it must have been for centuries – give or take the tourist centre and the cafes. All streets were cobbled which made cycling difficult.

Having cleaned up and loaded the van, we said goodbye to the pleasant, shaded campsite where we had dined the previous evening on excellent omelette, salad and patatas fritas and the waiter’s choice of a 14.5% local red wine. More like a fortified port but it slipped down pretty well! The sugared plums do come from here by the way but were not in evidence.

We shunned the main road and went north through Portalegre on quieter and more interesting roads. Castelo de Vide looked like yet another picture book fortified town on a prominent hilltop but we declined to take our venerable van into those compact streets so turned about on the E802/N118 in search of our overnight stop. Much to our surprise, Daniel (Garmin road adviser) identified a campsite in Ortiga over a large dam on the Tejo (Tagus) which was absolutely splendid. This was a very cheap municipal facilty in pristine condition and with excellent facilities and a warm welcome from Marisa and her full set of teeth braces. There was even an age discount for over 65s so M1 was charged just one Euro against M2’s two! The temperature registering 35C, we both headed for the safe swimming area in the lake and some cold beers in the restaurant/bar. Plenty of youngsters there but all well behaved and courteous. Supper on board, a chew of the fat and an outline of a plan for the morrow saw us through the evening.

Wed 10 June - Badajoz

Our next destination being only 40 miles away, we gave EMU a real birthday treat at the local Lavamania. A high pressure shampoo and scrub-up to improve her looks after six weeks on the road made her look a real lady afterwards, despite the odd dent or two.

We took the back road to Badajoz through mile after mile of agricultural land full of fruit trees, tomatoes, corn, potatoes all looking in splendid order. Against all reasonable statistical odds, as we closed in on Badajoz, a car passed us tooting its horn madly and with its two occupants waving and beaming at us – it was Pedro and Antonia! A pleasing but totally unexpected rendezvous.

This route brought us into the city past the San Cristobal fort with the main fortress clearly visible from way outside. There was no parking on the city side so we found a quiet area to the north and got on our bikes to explore this fascinating battle site. Firstly, the fort at San Cristobal. This was bigger and more prominent than expected but completely abandoned and in full disrepair. So much so that in England it would have been fenced off as a danger to the public. Nevertheless, we tramped the surviving ramparts and embrasures, soaked up the commanding views of Badajoz and viewed the north and west approaches. The fort was well designed with outer wall, inner wall and deep ‘killing ground’ between with plenty of defensive angles from which to rain fire down on to any attacker. San Cristobal and the main objective of Badajoz were both ‘invested’ according to Paget and we need to know more about what this actually meant: isolation? bombardment? intimidation? Probably all these and more but what exactly?

The main fortress dominated Badajoz and, on our bikes we skirted round the walls, marvelling at their construction and size, eventually finding a way into the citadel itself. There were some unidentified ruined buildings but the fort now housed the Junta headquarters, the University, a museum (closed) and a park complete with kiddies play area. And oh yes! Another monument in granite without a name or tribute completely covered in graffiti and rubbish! Nowhere was there any recognition of the 1812 battle perhaps because of the apalling behaviour of the British troops once the fortress had fallen which the Spanish did not wish to remember. Also, we must recognise that there were many other aspects of their history which meant more to the citizens of Badajoz.

An important visit to a very compact battle site. The troops had been incredibly brave to follow Wellington’s orders that the siege should end before being engaged by the French army arriving from the east. The carnage, fear, exposure, noise, gallantry and blood lust can only be imagined but seeing the site made it all the more real.

Mid afternoon, we cycled back to the van and a short trip and an ice cream later we were in Elvas, Portugal for our night stop. Is this where the plums come from or perhaps that is Elbas?

Pics - Badajoz Walls San Cristobal from Badajoz Badajoz Courtyard San Cristobal from Badajoz San Cristobal Fort

Tue 9 June - Merida

Merida read very well in the Lonely Planet guide. Unknown to us beforehand, its history was as a Roman town built in 25BC to the orders of Octavio Augusto as a tribute to the veteran soldiers of various legions. Hence Augusto Emeritus was constructed on the banks of the Guadiana and it became an important Roman administrative centre. It houses some of the most complete Roman buildings outside Rome and is a World Heritage site and capital of Extremadura. It deserved our time although we had not planned to stay. We marvelled at the theatre, amphitheatre, the Roman bridge (1600 m long with only three columns), aquaduct, arch, temple and circus which could seat 30,000 people. Truly a wonderful example of Roman industry and engineering, the town was clearly proud of its history, had embraced its heritage yet was busy, thriving and smart! Contrast this with our experience of the previous day. The people were more cheerful, the women were smart and attractive and there was a myriad of tapas bars and restaurants catering for locals and visitors (interestingly, not that many) in its narrow streets. A Tapas Trail passport from the tourist office gave us the incentive to try out the local fare. It was fun to find the bars – some 40 in all – then savour a glass of wine and a tapas dish of their choice for Euros 2.50. Decent, full bodied wines and tapas we could not have ordered ourselves in places we would probably not have entered. The best was the Convivium which served us a delicious shredded veal with pimientos ‘Ripiado de Ternera ropavieja’ although the first tapas of a spicy cold soup with a little ham ‘Salmorejo con Jamon’ was a good starter. Although our ambitions were high, we only made four stops before we realised that we couldn’t manage more so settled for a coffee and brandy before retiring to the well provided and central public car park for our cheap overnight stay. All in all, a real gem of a place which restored our faith in Spain.

Pic 1 - Diana's Temple Pic 2 - Merida Roman Bridge

Monday, 8 June - Talavera

Talavera Monument The Battlefield from French viewpoint Arzobispo Bridge

Having filed our complaint about the site with the management on leaving, we moved into Talavera about which we had big expectations. Paget’s excellent book close to hand, we took a little time to work out the lie of the land because of the new road constructions and the flooded Portina Brook which confused a bit. Having found the impressive but badly kept monument to the battle just off the motorway, we then successfully found a difficult unmade road from Segurilla to the north which opened up the vista of the whole battlefield – the dominant Cerro de Medellin, the farm at Pajar and the surrounding terrain which gave us a distinct feel for the terrain of the battle, the French lines, the British dispositions and the field of battle itself. We could almost hear the jangle of troop movements, shouted commands, bugles, tramping feet and eventually the noise of battle. Quite an emotional experience with wonderment that Wellington was able to oversee the battle, take advantage of French weaknesses and minimise his own. All this without communications as we know it. After a couple of hours or so including walking the ground of the French advance on Ruffin’s line, we left the scene satisfied that we had paid tribute to those who fought there. Sadly, Talavera itself is inconsequential and pays scant recognition to this major battle. Much of the battlefield is now a scruffy industrial estate and the Portina Brook has been flooded to confuse the interested observer. As elsewhere in Spain, Talavera is not immune to the endemic Spanish need to paint meaningless graffiti on any wall (including the monument to the battle). Where no graffiti exists, then national companies paint the walls with their logos and products. When these are full, then huge hoardings are erected to advertise even more. Coupled with the apparent fact that Spain seems full of old buildings which are in disrepair, new buildings and complexes which are incomplete, one cannot help but conclude that the country has tried to expand far too fast. This, coupled with the national acceptance of litter, noise and unfinished products sends out a confusing message to such as we.

Talavera accomplished, we moved 35km westwards to Oropesa, a strikingly attractive town to which Wellington had withdrawn after Talavera so as not to get drawn into another battle too soon against Soult coming south from Salamanca. His army withdrew further to get south of the River Tagus by crossing it at La Puente de Arzopispo. This turned out to be a very fine, intact bridge made of honeyed stone in the 14^th century. Again, we could imagine the tread of the British boots across this narrow bridge as we took our sandwich lunch!

To avoid retracing our steps, we continued south and south west through Estrella, Puenta de San Vicente and Guadaloupe on the Ex 102, a splendidly smooth road through amazing countryside. Stopping off to watch soaring vultures in search of (dead) prey, we travelled through a very unseasonable cold and wet frontal rain belt before arriving at our destination of Merida, 65km east of Badajoz, our next important battle site.

Having befriended a very amenable Portugese couple (Antonia and Pedro) who had seemed to make erecting their adjacent tent extremely difficult, we dined well on mackerel fillets in mustard sauce followed by curried duck gisiers and savoury rice – probably the only people in the world to do so - on 8 June anyway!

Sunday, 7 June - Huesca to Cazalegas

Huesca camping was better than this picture suggests!

It’s wonderful to be completely isolated from domestic policies in the UK and the global worries of the recession. Nevertheless, we were made aware that 7 June was a big election day in France. Wonder how it will go? One of the candidate names we recognised was that of Daniel Cohn Bendit whom we think was a leader of the student riots in Paris in 1968.

Over supper the previous night we had decided to head even further south and west and get to Talavera to seek the warmth of central Spain and get back on the trail of Wellington and his army. It would be a long drive but it fitted our mood. We left by 0850 and were quickly en route with EMU purring her way along. We shared the driving but M1 stayed at the wheel slightly too long at the end of a long day a drifted sideways when his concentration lapsed. M2 to the rescue but M1 stayed at the wheel for the final 30 mins as we stumbled our way after a 500 km drive to a campsite just east of Talavera at Cazalegas. Set in a beautiful lakeland area, this could only be described as a shanty town. However, we were in no mood to try to find anywhere else and decided to settle on this scruffy, dirty and unappealing site against our better judgement. To cap it all, in trying to find the best parking place of a bad bunch, M1 failed to remember how tall the vehicle was, nudged the overhanging branch of an olive tree to EMU’s disadvantage. A taxying incident of great embarassment. What would Tanner have said? Having extricated from that situation, everything about the site was tatty with last year’s rubbish, fag ends abounding, the inevitable dog pound and rudimentary facilities. Everywhere looked more like Soweto than Soweto as it was a caravan graveyard. Deeply depressing, especially the squalid conditions that were allowed to exist for a number of dogs and puppies and two ponies. We both felt that this was a low point not to be repeated and that we should get out of Cazalegas as quickly as we could.

Saturday, 6 June - Over the Pyrenees

Awaking to a very wet and threatening weather scenario, our breakfast conference quickly established our wish to head for drier, warmer weather which we judged to be south and over the border into Spain. Having settled up with la belle mam’selle Stephanie we urged the stately lady up the Col de Pourtalet at her own speed. There was nervousness about the proximity to the walls and ditches on the near side but up we went through the cloud shrouded climb. We stopped off at a refuge of the Club Alpin Francais about half way where the splendid Marie-France Paquaa welcomed us with a cup of the best coffee we had had. A short tour of the immaculate but basic facilities later we were on our way to the top. The scenery (when we could see it) was magnificent and gradually opened out as we approached the summit. Passing through the Spanish border post was like moving into a different world. Immediately, building work which looked of pleasing architectural merit was everywhere as it seemed clear that the Spanish saw the chance of exploiting the ski scene. The developments centred on Sallent looked attractive and the investment in ski infrastructure of lifts and supporting facilities was apparent in what must be a good bowl to attract persistent winter snow. Something to look out for in next years ski brochures.

The scenery quickly changed on our more rapid descent leaving behind the beech woods of the French side for oak, ash and pine on the Spanish side then more open country of Aragon. We ploughed on enjoying the terrain and decided to end the day at Huesca, a town of 75,000 or so and well off the beaten tourist track. There was a reasonable camp site close to the town centre (and an impressive football facility) which allowed us the short walk into town to savour the Saturday night atmosphere of this provincial town. We were struck by its cosmopolitan nature and the easy way the generations mingled and inter-acted. When last in England did we see a group of teenagers greet each other courteously (here a double kiss) then converse animatedly but quietly at a cafe drinking coffee or soft drinks?

We followed the recommendation of the Lonely Planet guide and secured a table at Hervi’s Restaurant where the food was generous and excellent but, above all, where the busy and convivial atmosphere set the tone. Marvellous! A coffee and an anonymous brandy at another bar saw us happily relaxed and just about able to find our way back to the van. Crash!

Pic 1 - Le Gave Pic 2 - Market at Laruns Pic 3 - Col de Pourtalet at 1794m

Friday, 5 June - Leg Powered Day

M1 woke first, harnessed himself to the Dolan and set off up the valley to sample the road to the Col de Pourtalet at 1794m. Surprisingly, the climbing although relentless wasn’t too punishing and without recourse to the ‘granny ring’ reached 800m after about 5.75 miles before turning back to go and collect the breakfast bread in Laruns. It was a first taste of TdeF climbs and thoroughly whetted the appetite. Nevertheless, the aim for the day was to walk but to get to the start point we had to cycle almost the same distance back up the pass. M2 was slightly pessimistic on his heavy machine but he surprised himself by managing the climb well. Although the weather was threatening, it was warm. We locked the bikes together just off the road and started upwards through the dense deciduous, predominantly beech, forest of le Betit trail aiming for a tarn at about 1700m – a fair climb. The trail was well marked and the forest so green and moist it was almost sub-tropical. Lichens and fungi were everywhere as were giant slugs and one delightful lizard with striking yellow markings who posed politely for his photo to be taken. We chose to deviate from the main track after about an hour in favour of what the map showed as a path through steep woods to a cabin near an aqueduct pipe which should have allowed us to rejoin the main trail a little further on. This again was well marked but was extremely steep and treacherously wet on the many layers of beech leaves and rotted vegetation. We became very hot with all the effort and increasingly aware that we were on a wild goose chase as no cabin appeared. Discretion favoured a retreat which we duly did although descent was even more tricky and hard on M1’s left knee. Back at the trail, we befriended three young German lads from Aachen on a kayaking trip. Experiences were exchanged in halting French before realising that they spoke English as well as we did! We pressed on upwards having lost an hour but after another 45 minutes or so the thunder god roared just after we had entered the cloud. It was time for discretion again and we headed down but took our welcome bread, cheese and sausage lunch while marvelling at the water patterns over the boulders at the bridge.

The bikes were soon recovered and we set off at speed down the road as the weather started to close in. Safely ensconced in the van, the weather held off just long enough for us to dine ‘Chez Emu’ with sardines a la pimiento to start followed by confit de canard, marvellous cheesy creamed potatoes, peas and carrots. At peace with the world apart from the persistent rain which arrived overnight. The bikes were outside and suffering. Shame!

Thursday, 4 June - Successful Repairs

Our host, Richard Ziemek-Chige (of Polish extraction but five generations of producing wine at his lovely 6 hectares of vineyard) saw us off and we set out down the Vallee d’Ossau towards the mountains. The gas problem niggled at us though and although we went as far down the valley as Arudy, we sought advice and turned for a recommended specialist on Oloron St Marie to no avail. A much better steer came from the proprietor of a camp site there and we retraced our steps all the way to Pau to a splendid store called Agest where the attendant was extremely helpful, we found a new two-way junction which M2 fitted on the spot. Only 15 Euros too! A further bonus from this excellent store was a two-way electrical adaptor which would save us from needing to change the electrical supply plug when we had the wrong connector. Another 18 Euros then made us fully functional and better placed than ever before to continue the journey.

We cheerfully climbed aboard and headed back down the valley again passing some points for the fourth time – but the problem had been solved! We chose a 3 star site on the south side of Laruns next to the gushing Gave where there were only a handful of other campistes. We were pleasantly surprised to receive a warm welcome from la belle mam’selle Stephanie, surely not yet 20, pretty as a picture with amazingly pale blue eyes who furthered our sense of well-being after what we regarded as a triumph of persistence over technology. Power and gas supplies secured we set about enjoying some of our Jurancon and Cahors wine and a tasty concoction of rice and whatever else we could chuck in. This had not been our original plan which was to walk into town to a recommended restaurant. We walked purposely but in typical fashion we turned left instead of right failing to notice the main street about 300m from our turning point. Probably saved us 70 Euros though! We looked forward to a day’s walking on the following day.

Wednesday, 3 June – At Pau

Golf at Pau was a pure delight. Known as la Billere (as RLGC is known as Hoylake) we were warmly welcomed by their young and attractive receptionists and after paying 68 Euros each we were ready for our round having secured our reservation for lunch before starting. Wellington’s troops had rested at la Billere, a farming area, after the battle of Orthez in 1814 when yet again they had defeated Soult as he retreated from the Peninsula. Part of the pleasure of our arrival at the golf club was the ability to use its full facilities after lurking around in the van for a few nights. Marvellous relief!

Golf at Pau is wonderfully unpretentious and relaxed. Its short course and pretty layout next to le Gave de Pau (as the impressive melt water river is called) allow the golfer to fully enjoy the experience of playing on the flat, with plenty of shade in very warm conditions. Personally, I had always had the impression that the course would be perched on a hill. It turned out to be on the flood plain but with impressive green hills to the south. Early pictures of the course from 1856 show very few trees and some extraordinary golf swings from a variety of British players both landed gentry, ex Army officers and famous golfers of the era such as Maxwell and Hutchings. My – how these chaps got about! I was delighted to see the stone plaque dedicated to ‘General’ Joe Lloyd, winner of the US Open in 1897 (the same year that Hilton won The Open at Hoylake) and Pau’s first professional who was a Hoylake man. Confirmation again that Hoylake had a major influence in Clubs around the world.

After a convivial and tasty lunch under the shady awnings of the veranda, we immersed ourselves in the freely available books of a bygone era and different, more stylish times. Photos taken we drifted into Pau to get maps and a new Rough Guide to the Pyrenees to plan exploits in the mountains. This was an excuse for a couple of cold beers to keep hydration to the required level whilst appreciating an attractive, fairly cosmopolitan town with a distinguished history to tell through its monuments and buildings.

Overnight again at Cru Lamouroux, La Chappelle de Rousse. Relaxed and contented in the roseate hue of the setting sun illuminating the Vallee d’Ossau in varying and changeable shades, we discover that the UK bottle of gas had eventually given its last delivery. It had done well but its demise, although inevitable, was sudden. Not to worry, CoolCamperVans had given us a full European bottle complete with the European connector and it would be a simple matter to change over the bottle and reconnect – wouldn’t it? Well no. The connector supplied was incompatible with the van fittings despite several attempts to release the fittings and make a fit. Portable gas stove to the rescue for coffee and washing up but the real loss was the fridge. A problem we resolved to tackle the next day or later whilst generally castigating CCV who we thought had been generous. Perhaps we should have investigated further beforehand.

Tuesday, 2 June – To Pau

Awakened to yet another perfect day, we both went for a bike ride before a breakfast of boiled egg, fresh bread and croissants. We packed up and left by 10.30 aiming to get to the ancient town of Pau in the Pyrenees Atlantique where there has been a strong British influence since after the Peninsular war when many of Wellington’s soldiers settled there rather than repatriate to a more austere life in less beautiful surroundings once hostilities were over. There may have been the odd romantic influence too of course! From 1820 onwards the British population rose to about 15% of that of Pau which explains the strong traditions of fox hunting, racing and golf which persist to this day.

The journey was longish but it allowed us to call in to Cahors to buy some of the distinctive Malbec based wine before driving down through the flattish plains of Tarn & Garonne, the fruit growing area of France. We were excited when the mountains hove into view but we seemed to parallel them for a long time before the surprisingly flat approach to Pau itself. After driving around in circles, we found the most delightful France Passion site at La Chapelle du Rousse, Jurancon where the patron and his wife welcomed us warmly and with the help or hindrance of variable Franglais we sampled his wines produced only from the mensang grape (of which we had never heard) while looking out over his stunning property with the mountains in the distance. It seemed to be significantly warmer here in the south and we were able to sit out sampling the patron’s wines, accompanied by some pate de foie gras, salade vert, fresh bread followed by some good cheese and private thoughts. A most enjoyable end to a positioning day. Tomorrow we have arranged to play golf at Pau Golf Club, the oldest European Club having been founded in 1856. G H Brown is, I believe, the course record holder from his visit here with the late John Graham. Andy Cross represented RLGC at their 150^th celebrations in 2006.