St - Andre - Les - Alpes

Yesterday evening, after dinner, we walked out along the river, and then into the older part of the town. Beside the river, two short - eared bats flew above our heads.

The sun was setting over the mountains, above them hung a orange, purple sky.

Up on the rock, we could see the chapelle, lit by soft lighting.

As we were sorting ourselves out this morning, the German couple next to us, took an interest in Marge. She's starting to attract quite a following from this nation. At lunchtime, we stopped alongside the Lac de Castillon. There was another van there, from which the man was swimming nearby in the lake. After he pulled himself out, up the bank, his wife was dispatched to ask about Marge, her husband too shy to come over himself. Marge is catching the eye of the Germans big time, the confusion of her driving position, British registration plate, with the name of the German garage she was imported from, causing scratching of heads. How could this be? Within a few seconds, the husband had joined us, and as he was so taken with Marge, was given a guided tour, she would have loved all this male attention! The couple were interesting to talk to, and they seemed to know the area well, so could advise us places to visit and stay. The lake was beautiful, its green, blue water almost translucent.

After our lunch, we drove further on, following the side of the lake, the views stunning. Whilst driving near the mountains, it is important not to be distracted by the spectacular views, and the same applied to the lake.

When we reached the dam, we pulled over, as did many other people. The hydro-electric station, belonging to EDF Energy, provides power for over 31,000 people. Flying over the dam were sand martins, their homes in the crevices of the nearby rocks.

Further along we stopped for John to photograph the lake, whilst doing so, he thought, he saw a wolf?

When we arrived at tonight's aire, we noticed the young German lady from lunchtime was there. We'd seen her husband set off on his road bike, whilst we were eating our lunch. She had driven, to meet up with him. After settling Marge, we walked into the nearby town, visited the church, as always, and after an invite to the Bar du Commerce ' I'll pay, if you order', we studied some information we'd picked up from the tourist office, where as always the member of staff was very helpful, showing us the route we should take to the Gorges of Verdon tomorrow.

Local edible snail, just need a few more......

Castellane (Day 2)

After a much needed restful nights sleep, we were awoken by the pleasant sound of a cuckoo calling.

After breakfast, a lady police officer came around to make sure we all had valid twenty four hour tickets. We talked with her a while, in both French and English, each understanding the other. We told her, we were going to walk up to the Chapelle Notre-Dame, thinking it would take us a couple of hours. Understanding some of the French conversation, we realised she was telling us, it would take about forty minutes, and that it was easy for children of four and over to do it in that time. No pressure then.

Before we set off on our trek, we walked into town to visit the tourist office, and buy some camembert and a baguette. Bread for lunch today, heaven! Lunch packed into our rucksacks, we set off up the footpath to the chapelle, with is situated on the rock right next to the aire.

Distance to the top about three quarters of a mile, up an uneven, rocky path. We arrived within thirty minutes, feeling pretty pleased with ourselves.

(Marge is the last van on the left in the central 'v' shaped area)

The chapelle was 185 metres above Marge, who, if you were brave enough to look down, could be seen below.

The views back down towards the town, and up into the mountains were stunning.

The walk up to the chapelle was not in vain, inside it was absolutely beautiful and peaceful.

Once privately owned, it now belongs to the community of Castellane, and is still used for services a few times a year, one of them is obviously Easter.

Behind the chapelle stands the statue of the virgin, which was struck in 1970, when the head was destroyed.

We sat at a picnic table at the rear of the chapelle to eat our lunch. A young couple asked if they could sit at the table also. He was German, and she was American, working in Germany. Over lunch, we talked about each others countries, the driving talents of the Italians, and our travels. They were a nice couple, and we enjoyed their company. After some final photographs, we set off with some trepidation on the path back down. The ground uneven, with polished rocks from the footwear of thousands of walkers over time. Trying to keep our footing on both the rocks and the loose stones, we were very aware of the sheer drop beside us.

We stopped at intervals to look at the wild flowers, butterflies, giant ants, and a beetle.

On the way up the path, we had spotted a large snail on a stone wall, just another eleven needed for a starter!

Arriving back at Marge, we were surprised to see we'd been out for over three hours, but both agreed the walk had been well worth it.

Tonight, we will stay once again by the river in Castellane. The plan tomorrow is to drive to a nearby lake and hire a canoe.

Castellane

A late evening walk out last night, behind the beachfront restaurant, from which emitted some seventies music, which the sophisticated diners, danced to in their sophisticated way.

The moon, a spotlight on the Mediterranean. Our last night in Italy, turned out to be one to remember. Oh my god! What a night. We were woken by the thumping base of house music, the nearby beach restaurant, had turned into a night club. A hotbed of jumping hormones and music, which went on until five o' clock this morning. After which there was another hour of noise from the 'pumped up' youngsters, making their way home. So much for a nice peaceful, idyllic spot over looking the sea!

Just before ten o' clock this morning, we rose, with tired eyes and headaches, and not from too much wine. More gentle music was playing from a nearby cafe, and to the left of us the sports centre was holding a track event, with constant announcements over the public address system. And on top of that, we'll let's throw in some church bells as it's Sunday.

On that note, as soon as we'd cleared up after breakfast, Marge said, 'addio Italy'. 'It's been an experience!'.

At 12.56 pm, we entered the mountain tunnel, where half way through, we would enter France. As we crossed the border, with a 'bonjour Francais', it wasn't long before we were at the 'peage' for the toll road. As we passed through, Marge obviously caught the eye of the border police, and we were pulled over. All those miles in Italy, passing by the spot checks of the Carabinieri, and now Marge had caused us unwanted attention. However, after a quick look inside the van, including the bathroom, (what a brave police officer, the chemical toilet needed emptying), we were waved on our way. No, Mr French police officer, we did not think to bring an African over the border with us, we thought that they were best left in Italy, to supply visitors with sun glasses, umbrellas, beach balls, sun hats etc.

Our journey along the toll road took in Monaco and Nice, where we could see the super yachts. On the outskirts of Nice, we passed the stadium where the Women's Football World Cup was being held, and saw the coaches ferrying the Swedish and Thai teams to today's match, with a heavy police escort. Stopping for lunch shortly after, at a service area, we then continued onto Grasse, thankful, that it was Sunday, as the road through the town was quiet, and we had some problems finding our way. Leaving the home of perfume, we began to climb, and climb, and climb into the Maritime-Alps. Marge 1 would not have coped with the relentless climb, but Marge II, having had plenty of practice over the last few weeks, slowly pulled herself up the relentless climb and switchback bends. At one point we were so high, even the driver felt a little sick, although that was probably due to the fact, the toilet was being stirred up!

We stopped, when we could safely, to take photographs, gathering some wild herbs, and inhaling the fresh smell of pine.

Around six o' clock, we arrived in the pretty town of Castellane. The temperature was 29c, which surprised us, we'd expected it to be quite a bit cooler once we returned to France. The aire is situated right in the centre of the picturesque town, under a large rock, on top of which, is the Chapelle Notre Dame. We were glad to be back in familiar France, even though we have not been to this region, Provence before.

Our plan is to stay in this area for a few days.

San Remo

The English couple we met last night had a dog. As they walked it out late evening, we realised we may have put our foot in it when talking to them earlier, when we'd spoken about people who 'own the sort of dog that bites children', why would you want one? You've guessed it. Always view someone's dog, before you comment on their canine.

We left early this morning, as we wanted to avoid paying for the parking, which seems the general way here if the aire is paid for at a ticket machine. After all, there were no services for the vans, it was purely parking in a seafront car park, and we've done this many times before without being asked to pay.

This morning we drove a short distance along the coast road to San Remo. The traffic though was heavy, especially with scooter riders coming at us from all directions, diving in and out between the vehicles. But Marge has become a bit of an expert in the art of Italian driving. Who'd have thought we'd be saying this five weeks ago? One rather large girl flew by Marge on an old Vespa scooter, her buttocks hanging over the sides like pannier bags. We're sure there was probably a seat under there somewhere! You had to feel sorry for the Vespa, as it was having to take the strain!

Tonight's stop is right by the beach at San Remo. The aire is very popular, and when we arrived just before lunch was pretty much full. After lunch, we took a walk out over the rocks at the rear of the beach, where we stopped to sit for a while. Above us we could see the vans, outside of one was sat a German family, whose young son decided to hurl small rocks down into the sea. After we said some choice words to him, his father told him to stop. A few minutes later three Italian lads arrived with their fishing rods, one still wearing his scooter helmet. He'd obviously heard about the 'rock hurling German'

For one last time, an evening walk out in Italy up to Casa da Villa Helios, an old and once very stunning building , now derelict, it's only inhabitants the local pigeons. The building probably has hundreds of stories to tell, and many secrets to hide.

Tomorrow we leave Italy, we are only about thirty miles from the French border. Italy has wowed us, terrified us, every day the drivers do something to unnerve us, but we'll miss you, and despite all the drama, we really have enjoyed visiting some amazing places.

We'd love to return to Pompeii. Rome and Pisa were both highlights, as were the amazing views, some fabulous overnights stops, sights we'd never had seen, if we'd not veered off the beaten track, aromas from cooking, emitting from restaurants and Italian kitchens, the evening smell of the jasmine, the vibrant colours, of the sometimes stunning, floral displays and blossom. Tomorrow we will leave this crazy country feeling a little sad, and glad we did not let it overcome, us despite its challenges.

Italy, we're sure we'll revisit you in the future.