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!

Monday 10 August - Down the Vallee de la Romanche to St Martin d'Uriage near Grenoble

Breakfast was taken in Du Pas de l'Ane with the family Fons still in good form. Their inter-family relationships are strong and all the body language and cheerful dialogue shows how comfortably they share the jobs and make their business work.

It was time for the boys to move on after arriving at Camping d'Arsine for just one night a week ago so the van was packed, Chris made ready to go up the valley and farewells were said late morning after a thoroughly entertaining interlude which both sides had enjoyed. As we left, the delightful French couple (she Indo-Chinese, he not) who had been site residents for as long as we had came over to say their goodbyes. They had been friendly to us and very sweet with each other throughout to the extent that, if the wet weather had allowed, we would have had them over to share a drink or two. That wasn't to be but the mutual liking showed as they departed too. As we drove through la Grave, there they were, waving furiously at us and the wife jumping up and down in joy. Such was the affection seemingly created and pretty genuine on both sides.

The drive down the valley was a tricky one due to one or two narrow and dark tunnels. The further we went, so the scenery seemed to become ever more dramatic despite the loss of height. Le Gorge de l'Infernet in particular was breathtaking but best seen from the passenger seat. Chris had steered us towards Uriage les Bains, a few miles east of Grenoble where he thought there was a golf course. We followed this advice and found this whole, softer contoured valley to be absolutely delightful. The town was neat, en fleuri and with some impressive, sometimes grand buildings set pleasingly on generously proportioned roads with parks, open spaces and cafe/restaurants ten a penny. There was a 9 hole, parkland course there and we pressed on to find a campsite for the night. Camping du Buisson was signposted and we climbed for far longer than anticipated before finding this set high up in a lovely setting and with wonderful but partially cloud obscured views to the south down the valley. We received an extraordinarily warm welcome from the proprietors, Jean-Luc (broad grin, bad teeth and what might be called a beard) and Dominique (mounds of curly auburn hair, freckles, slim as a rake and full of fun) who seemed pleased to see us. Nothing was too much trouble and we shared a couple of beers in their company before setting up shop. We had fallen on our feet yet again at a time when we didn't really have a clear idea of where we were going.

With our hosts help, we made a golf booking, not at Uriage, but at Golf International de Grenoble at Bressons a full 18 hole course for the following morning, then relaxed with pen and computer and dined, happily, on board.

Sunday 9 August - A welcome visit

McD had been able to establish contact with his erstwhile Nav/Radar, Chris Mitchell, who lived near Grenoble in his different, post-RAF guise of theatrical director, playwrite and lecturer at the University there. Both were keen to make contact again after about 10 years and Chris was exp-ected to come over and join us with the idea of a mountain walk, and, if the weather allowed, a night in a refuge. Since he wasn't expected before lunch time, there was time for some physical activity beforehand to the normal pattern - M1 on the bike and M2 walk/jog along the river tracks.

Chris arrived about 1.00pm. Small and neat with boundless vitality, once the reminiscences had taken place, he entertained us well with his views and extensive knowledge of a world which we knew nothing about. This pace of dialogue was kept up on a short walk (which was all we could contemplate because of the threatening weather up the mountains) and over a few beers in Villar. Since Chris had planned to spend the night with us, the debate only involved whether he would sleep in the van or in our tent. There was a marked reluctance to pitch the tent in the intermittent rain so the decision was made by default - three of us in the van it would be! But not before we had again chosen good meals from the menu courtesy of the Fons family and pursued many more yarns, anecdotes and reminiscences. Despite the high occupancy levels, it was easy to slip into a sound sleep.

Saturday 8 August - Another quiet day

M1 was still nursing a sore right calf so a long walk would not have been a wise choice. In leisurely time, we walked towards Les Cours on the opposite side of the main Lauteret road through open country and reached the Lac du Pontet (1982m) where we had a cool orangina at the cafe which was an obvious point of attraction to the many families who could drive almost all the way. A straight walk back would not have been enough exercise so we started out to walk the marked route 422 via the high point l'Aiguillon then into the next valley of the river Maurian. For a few days we had noted that this valley captured cloud and weather before our valley did and today was no exception. A dark brooding cloud appeared ahead of us as we climbed on this much quieter track but we didn't fancy a drenching so we about faced and went downhill to Villar d'Arene. M2 fancied more exercise even though rain continued to threaten and he jogged the final miles back to the van. M1, meanwhile, had anticipated the stop at the hotel Le Bec de l'Homme which had free wifi access. So after a delicious omelette nature and salade vert, he produced his laptop from his rucksac and went on line to update the blog after too many days out of contact. The mountains caused problems for phone and internet access but the Orange.fr connection stick had been pretty disappointing as well as expensive with the service unreliable, the coverage patchy and the procedures cumbersome. Nevertheless, good progress was made with the blog updated although there was no access to emails or other websites. We stocked up with a few provisions and had a light but tasty meal on board - a pate starter followed by a variation of salad nicoise. Earlyish to bed.

Friday 7 August - A quieter day - still at Arsine

After discussing yesterday's events over another excellent supper at Du Pas de l'Ane, we concluded that we had done the right thing in turning back on a tricky rock face with probably two hours of unknown climbing ahead. Nevertheless, we had achieved a good altitude and walked well for six hours - we were not too down in the dumps.

After giving the van a wash and brush up in the morning, we regrouped by M1 riding down the valley to Lac du Chambon so that he could say that he had ridden the Lauteret to complete the climb he made a few days ago while M2 went for a brisk walk/jog down to La Grave arranging to meet for a light lunch at Le Bec de l'Homme in the main square at Villar. The lunch was very nice indeed and wonderfully cheap as well as briskly and efficiently served. While M1 waited before McD arrived, he was fully employed in helping others fill their water bottles from the adjacent fountain spring which was just out of reach for most. The other amusing feature seen was a small runt of a terrier trying to mount a much larger bitch who was on heat. The terrier lived up to his name in terms of the time and effort he put in but, as far as is known, he was unfulfilled especially after falling into the water under the fountain!

The afternoon was taken over by domestics with little further to report. We have wish to leave this beautiful place just yet but we are now realising that we are nearing the end of this terrific experience. We have earmarked Tue 25 August to repatriate to UK and rejoin our families who have allowed us to embark on this adventure. Places on the agenda after Ann's visit next week are: the Alsace (Philip Bambury ex colleague of M1's from MoD and his wife Renate), Verdun (a tragic battle for the French in 1916), hopefully Epernay for a visit to the Bollinger estate, Luxembourg to view the ancestral home of one of McD's friends from Prestbury, Waterloo of course then the WW1 battlefields of the Somme, Paschendale and Arras. A sobering final phase but with some more pleasant interludes along the way.

Thursday 6 August - In the mountains aiming for Refuge Adele Plonchard

We breakfasted keenly on lovely fresh croissants and still warm bread then readied ourselves for the adventure. This meant packing overnight and mountain kit (such as we had), sorting our packed lunch and securing bikes, golf clubs and the van before departure. At 9.25am we set off having taken pleasure in seeing the young French girls fussing around and perhaps even annoying their tethered donkey - but they looked a picture. The day was perfect with the mountain ridges and peaks showing sharply against the very blue sky. We walked well and made good progress along the same trail we had followed two days before, enjoying the whole walking scene and chatting amiably to those we overtook and to the one or two that went past us. The most amazing was an old gentlemen who could give us at least 20 years making slow but steady progress up the valley. We were suitably impressed.

We made the same point that we had made two days earlier after about 2.5 hours and took our lunch overlooking the moraine again. From here, the track turned sharply right and up the steep slope. Having climbed pretty smartly and achieved good altitude, M1 made the obvious error of the commentator's curse saying that 'if the trail stays like this, it should be OK'. Of course - it didn't! Within a short time the track gave way to solid rock and a 'via ferrate' type rail to pull ourselves up. This we managed prettily easily although it sewed seeds of doubt about the reast of the trail of which there was still probably 600m of altitude gain needed. Shortly after the assisted rock climb, the way was only shown by some red paint and some reasonably seriously steep rock. M2 had a go but even he was apprehensive about moving up or down. So - a rapid case conference and a decision that we were neither equipped or fitted to move into the unknown at more than 2500m and the retreat began but with great disappointment at not achieving our goal. For sure, it was the only and right decision for M1 despite our high ambitions. We set off down again with hearts slightly low. But we were uplifted enormously when, about 300m lower, the same octogenarian gentleman we had seen earlier was still making his way upwards to get the photo he wanted! Would we all had his stamina and resolve.

The descent was quiet but again we came across many ramblers of vastly different ages doing their thing - up and down. Our beer at the end of the 6 hour walk was most welcome and assuaged our disappointment somewhat. But we would have liked to have done better - if that rock face at which we had abandoned had had 'via ferrate' assistance, we would surely have gone on. Supper in the refuge Du Pas de l'Ane withe the excellent famille Fons - Olivier and Laurence, their two lads Guillaume and Gilles and his Slovak girl friend Mirka was again on the cards.

Wednesday 5 August - Still at Arsine

We have really got to like this jewel of a place. It's as far removed from the concentration camp sites experienced in Spain and Portugal as it is possible to be: completely without fuss, we were not asked for identification, things are done in a relaxed way by trust, the facilities are good and not overleaded (except when McD had to queue for a shower!) and there are more campers than camping cars which tells its own story. However, we were out of grub and money so we drove the van into the delightful village of La Grave (through a horridly narrow, dark tunnel) to rectify the situation. We gave a lift to a heavily laden German couple who were taking the cable car to La Meije (the highest mountain) where they would climb on the ice and spend a night in a refuge. The domestics were quickly and easily done. Even with time for a much needed coffee we were back to reclaim our slot by 10.30 only to find that the newly arrived campervan owner had pulled our electricity cable out to establish his supply! He was fat and French. We made sure he knew that we were less than pleased.

We donned our walking shoes and chose a gentler route this time down the valley of La Romanche towards La Grave. Mostly this was in the shade of the trees but with a few sporty climbs and descents. Again, everyone we met was so friendly. A 50ish lady with an ample bosom and her maman making haste slowly up a steep path; a lovely young student girl working in a restaurant in La Grave for the summer taking walking exercise to improve her fitness after giving up smoking; families of old and young walking and taking picnics under the trees and near the ever present river. We stopped after about 2 hours, had our sandwich lunch in the shade and both nodded off - but only for a few minutes! We ambled back at an easy pace (M1's calf muscle playing up) and finding our tentative way past two mules who had blocked the trail to nuzzle each other. We stopped at the quiet hamlet of Villar d'Arene for amost welcome beer and ice cream before the last hour back to our site. There is a very well run Bar/Restaurant/Refuge within 40m of our parking slot and rather than bother with grub on board, we booked a table and had a seriously tasty meal cooked and served by the family and at a very reasonable price.

Over dinner, we talked enthusiastically about the plans for the next day - to follow the track to the highest refuge at Adele Planchard (3169m) and overnight there. Challenging for us both as neither had walked at that altitude before so there was a little apprehension too.

Tuesday 4 August - At Camping d'Arsine in the shadow of La Meije

M1 was up and about earlyish. The day was absolutely clear and fresh with all the clouds long gone. What he hadn't banked on was the drop in temperature under the clearing night skies. 4 deg C showing on the van guage but ground frost outside. Even with three layers of clothing he had to abandon his bike ride up the Lauteret after a mile as his hands were so cold he couldn't change gear or brake properly. Back to the van to warm up but slowly the sun's influence from a good direction for our valley brought the temperature up to 12 deg C and after an hour or so another attempt could be made. He rode the top 7km of the Lauteret (2057m) which was OK at about 5% and kept pace with other riders easily enough. After a pause to take in the views at the Col, there was no other decision than to ride up the Galibier. This was serious stuff at 5 to 8% but steady progress was made even overtaking a couple of cyclists (though overtaken by one very fit, lean looking chap). M1 got to just below 2400m before turning round in order to get back to base at a reasonable time. Descent was factored by the traffic and by the strain on the hands from near constant braking but it was great fun. Back to a scrambled egg breakfast cooked by M2 then a turn round for a walk up the valley of La Romanche. The routes here are well sign posted. We were surprised at how many people were out on the mountain but then we recognised that we were witness to the great French outdoor adventure: families of old and young out there doing it at their own pace and in their own way and often pretty high up - sometimes with donkeys or pack horses. Such a brilliant experience for youngsters so that they get familiar with trekking at an early age.

We chose the least busy pathway up some quite sporty climbs before arriving at a sort of hidden valley which was quite long and flat. All the time, we are being reminded of our geography lessons at school: glacial erosion, moraines, boulder fields, hanging valleys and we experiencing all these wonderful phenomena at first hand. We pursued a route past the sources of la Romanche taking the track that would have led on to le Refuge Adele Plonchard at 3169m. We got to about 2300m with a grandstand view of the huge moraine field and had our lunch while watching a few folk searching the moraine - for what? They looked like midgets below us but helped us appreciate the scale and size of the moraine. We turned for home which was eventually reached after about 5 hours of walking. Hot and exhausted, had another meal 'Chez EMU' after a couple of very welcome beers at the camp site refuge restaurant.

Mon 3 August - To golf or not to golf!

All the hills of the Po valley look very similar: covered in well kept vineyards with villages and churches freely scattered about. To the chimes of 'Ave Maria' from the local church tower, M1 unbuckled the bike reasonably early and set off down hill carefully trying to mark the route in order to find a way back. It wasn't too bad though and the safest way is to follow the same route on the return journey. A circular route with a coffee and croissant in Santo Stefano di Belbo, a small market town was fine. I seemed to be riding strongly which surprised after the wine consumption the night before and even the climb back to the van seemed OK.

Golf was on the agenda and Berstock had given us two recommendations to play north of Milan. We chose Castel Conturbia and set off aiming to replace our defunct gas bottle at any convenient hardware store. Unfortunately, our Totalgaz bottle was not compatible with any Italian connections, forcing a rethink. Try elsewhere or head back to France where we knew it would be compatible? After mulling it over and as we were under no pressure of time or destination, we turned left back to France and headed for Briancon, the nearest town of significance. The town was of interest anyway because of the fortifications by Vauban whose principles had been used for fortress design using the 'rebellin' star shaped defences - and also as a famous Tour de France center for mountain stages. It was a tough climb for EMU from Oulx up over the Col de Montgenevre but apart from getting a bit hot under her bonnet she did really well. Briancon's setting is quite magnificent - on two sharp hills in the steep valleys within the stern surrounding mountains. However, it was so busy! Traffic jams, holiday makers everywhere and parking difficult. We managed the gas exchange in a Totalgaz station and set off north west looking for a camping site away from the town. This route took us up the D1091 and the Clo de Lauteret of TdeF fame. Fortunately, most of the traffic was descending into Briancon. We crested the Col (paying tribute to the Col du Galibier off to the right) and found a smashing municipal site on the left side 7km down the other side. A proper camp site with all the clients doing physical activities and run by Jerome, a darkly bearded scruffbag of a Frenchman whose small red car was well battered and with a rear window long gone and replaced by plastic sheeting. But he was engaging and efficient and the site was cheap too set near the Romanche river and with an impressive array of facilities so our washing of pretty grim stuff was quickly and efficiently done. We dined on board modestly but well while the clouds and occasional rain shrouded the mountains.

Sunday 2 August - Moving On and Two Surprises

After doing a good stint in the mountains, we had decided that a change was needed so aimed to drive down the Aosta Valley towards Turin or Milan and arrange some golf. M1 planned to ride first as he was keen to cycle the road up to La Thuile which was on the way to Col du Petit St Bernard where Lance Armstrong lost key time against the Schlecks in this years Tour. The night was unsettled though with traffic noise throughout, lorries turning right next to us and it was muggy too so we didn't get the well-earned rest we had thought we would get. There was a lot of cloud around in the morning then the dreaded rumble of thunder. The weather closed in sharply with the storms just about overhead giving us the full works - lightning,heavy rain and hailstones. Our carefully chosen spot right under the telecabine (not open!) turned rapidly into a river. No other option then than to break camp and head south away from the bad weather.

Val d'Aosta is a most beautiful place and we would have liked to see it on this drive, even shrouded in cloud. However, we entered the autostrada which was the quickest option but we spent most of the time in tunnels exiting near Aosta which, with its industry, warehouses and huge shopping centre, was unattractive - at least when viewed from the motorway. I suppose that would be a common criticism in any country. Our mood was subdued as, unlike most other days, we had no clear idea of where we were going or what we would do other than the general intent to have a game of golf. As we left the mountains behind us and the terrain flattened it seemed to match our feelings. We settled on aiming for Asti as we had heard of it in the context of its Spumante. But here we came across the first surprise: very obvious prostitution in daylight in rural Italy! We first spotted an attractive young coloured girl pretty outrageously dressed standing by the side of the road well out in the country. Then we saw another a little further on sitting in a plastic chair of which there were quite a few at irregular intervals. Brightly but minimally dressed, these girls were clearly waiting for clients from the passing cars. We then saw the first girl we had seen dropped off in front of us from a small silver car (client or pimp?). Brazen stuff and the girls were clearly immigrants. How could this go on so openly in this Catholic country? The only explanation we could offer is that everyone in authority must know about it and either turn a blind eye or be part of the racket - police, civic dignitaries, priests, journalists - they must all be conniving at thise very sad example of expoitation and double standards.

We were keen to hook up to electricity that night as our gas supply had run out but Italian camp sites are not at all well signposted and we struggled to find one. Eventually we identified a site at Castiliagno Tinela from the Camperstop book. It was difficult to find but well worth while when we did. An artisan vineyard with really good facilities set on top of one of the many well defined hills of the Po Valley. After a few pick me ups and a shower, we decided to make contact with the owners and wanderd the 25m down to the courtyard. Immediately, we could do nothing other than sit at a table where the enthusiastic and energetic guy running the show (white trainers, blue socks, baggy shorts and shirt) asked us if we wished to 'mangare'. We did and this was the second surprise but this time a delightful one. We were treated to one of the most memorable meals of the trip so far; simple fare, seven courses - all cold - but served briskly with care and attention all washed down with two bottles of the local vino rosso. A wonderful meal that was as tasty as it was unexpected and eaten along with the other 15 diners, none of whom were campinistas. And the bill? Just 30 euros for both of us including the wine, coffee and grappa!! What amazing value. And the next morning, this lovely chap (name unknown) even brought us two chocolate filled brioches for our breakfast. How's that for service? And when we came to leave, there was nobody there, the place was locked up and we had to guess what we owed and poke it through the letter box. The evening had perked us up and introduced us to wonderful Italian hospitality.