Into Italy!

We retreated from Italy, we had spent 4 nights there and chosen our time poorly, the week after the Day of the Assumption, big holiday.

We chose the old Brenner Pass road to exit Italy back into Austria and as we drove through I was reminded of Arthurs Pass, except for the huge outlet shopping mall that was creating a shopping frenzy. Brenner had the same drizzle, steep dark hills, railway infrastructure and little chalet houses.

Brenner Pass

We had taken another Chausson owner’s recommendation to visit the Stubaital Valley and the little central campsite. It had views all around, grassy hillsides, pink limestone crags (are there Dolomites in Austria?), large yellow church and next to our truck, the alpine water trough made of a hollowed out log, decorated with carved Eidelweiss, clear icy water pouring into it.

Sculpture seat on the 'real tramp'

We stayed at Camp Stubai for 4 nights. It was sited next to a cable car which gave us an effortless ride to the ‘tops’ for an easy walk among the alpine flowers one day and a real tramp (I am not talking in a good way) another day. The day of the real tramp had no breeze and burning sun, and as we were squishing our toes at the end of our boots on the way back down to the cable car, para-ponters were hauling their equipment to their launch pads.

Back at the truck Stuart poured icy water from the trough into a washing basin apiece and we sat in deckchairs drinking cold Pepsi and soaking our feet while watching the para ponters twirling above us on the thermals. While soaking our feet we noticed a young couple setting up their tent opposite and obviously pleased with their site, as they were taking 360 photos on their phones. Don’t know if they caught the two old people with their feet in washing-up bowls but we gave a cheery wave.

While in Austria we watched farmers making hay. I have no farming background but it seems an awful lot of work to end up with what seems a small amount of hay. Some fields are too steep for tractors so the cutting is manual, using a big lawnmower. The raking and turning is all manual. The grass doesn’t seem to attain much height before it is turned into either hay or silage. The farms look very small and must enjoy subsidies from the EU for them to continue as working units. Perhaps a lot of them run B&Bs and guesthouses as a sideline. Travelling above the farmers on the cable car there was a real scene of ‘one man went to mow... two men went to mow’ the most we saw was 3 men in a meadow, disappointingly no dog.

Time to give Italy another shot so we went back over the Brenner Pass, a different scene this time – the sun was out, the roads had light traffic and the towns looked prettier. Then Mr Cock-Up visited, – at the end of the pass there was confusion between the satnav and what we saw and we turned right instead of going straight ahead. There was no way out, we had to go on the autostrada when we really just wanted to drive through the pathetic little barrier to get to the other side of the road.

Back along the Brenner road in the direction we just came from, paid the toll at the first exit, got back on the autostrada, paid the toll and back where we started.

Lake Braies

We headed for Lake Braies and ended up being ushered into a squeezy spot by the parking warden. ‘It’s OK Stuart, we can open our door without hitting the truck next door’.

It was a hot gravelled carpark and there were a dozen motorhomes squished together. It didn’t look like the picture in the aires book but we made a coffee and stared out at the rows of cars filling the carpark. The next door neighbours had an Italian soap opera on their television and then they erupted into their own soap opera. We couldn’t see or understand them but there was shouting and rounds of what sounded like teenage tears; the bouts of tears would start up again without the shouting – just anguished exclamations and sobs. Stuart wondered if we should ask for our money ($NZ30) back.

The surroundings were spectacular, great dolomite cliffs, clear blue sky and pinetrees as we walked up the road to find the lake. After we walked past acres of car park, and the REAL aire which was full up, it was like deja vue. It really was Lake Louise (Canada) all over again including the hotel, boathouse and row boats, lakeside walk ..... Truly beautiful. We did the lake circuit accompanied by thousands of others all talking flat out when there was a dramatic ‘mama mia’ (not quite but something similar) near us. A mother was rushing into the lake pulling out a baby buggy laden with the family bags – luckily the ‘baby’ had been pushing the buggy and he set up a wailing, proclaiming innocence I assume. We had arrived in Italy indeed.

Lake Braies

The highlight so far has been our stay at Misurina. The aire was placed in a fantastic spot with views of pinky-blue limestone peaks all around with swathes of pinetrees stretching up to the snowline. In the large open meadows cows were grazing, their bells tinkling. The German man parked next door told us of the big ticket item – walking the Tre Cime di Lavadero. Catch a shuttle nearby.

The bus went up a series of switchbacks higher and higher, into the Parco Natzionale Dolomiti. The views were stunning – series of mountain ranges in regression, the close ones showing mid blue with the distant ranges a pale blue. The days walk was to circuit the three peaks (Tre Cime) – huge rock megaliths. As we passed as close as the path would allow, we could see tiny figures scaling them, gaining footholds in the crenalations and striations on the otherwise monolithic faces.

The three peaks at centre of the circit

We were not alone, we were accompanied by thousands of other visitors, mainly Italian as the 4 hour track looped past 4 refugios selling food and drink. We stopped at the largest – it must have been 5 stories high, for expensive luke warm cans of coke. It was a cloudless day and we were in full sun all day, I was looking forward to my can of Radler (shandy) in the fridge. However, we hadn’t even disembarked the bus before Stuart said ‘lets go for a bike ride’. Someone is going to get his money’s worth out of Misurina!

Lake Misurina

 I argued for another nights stay and had to clean out my precious supply of coins to pay for the parking – the machine only takes coins and parking is 18 euros a day (NZ30). The polizei make their rounds checking up.

That day we caught a Landrover shuttle up to 2200 metres on an ex-military road near to where we camped, up to the WWI battle site between the Italians and Austrians. Monte Piana/Piano had seen 14,000 soldiers killed on the site between 1915–17. The area was huge, with trenches and gun emplacements and tunnels spread over the pockmarked limestone landscape. The sharp needles of the Dolomites once again were the backdrop wherever you looked. Stuart went into a tunnel at a machine gun station and popped head and shoulders out where a gunner would have stood. Conditions must have been extremely harsh, a far cry from the pleasant summer afternoon we were enjoying. There were no crowds at this open air museum and no 'ealth and safety either, you had to be alert to where you were walking.

Monte Piano/Piana

We walked until we were tired of it and still didn’t see it all, we chose to walk the hour back down to our truck. Too tired to cook, we had pizza on the restaurant terrace next to Lake Mizurina.

Next big ticket item is Venice and I need to do some research beforehand.

Austria, so good we had to return

Innsbruck

Achensee, an emerald green lake with turquoise highlights, a cross between Lake Louise in Canada and Whakatipu. Anything with ‘See’ in the name indicated a lake to us. It had been recommended by a fellow traveller, and we parked in a ‘campervan park place’ next to the motorcamp with full access to facilities. Wow – bathrooms that would get a 5 star rating if they were in a hotel. Large individual shower rooms finished in granite.The loveliness was reflected in the price, the first night $NZ40 and subsequent nights $NZ70.

We took Howard and Hilda around Achensee as far as we could on the perfectly formed cycleway then headed back to camp-de-luxe, knees aching. We parked next to two English girls and we were pleased to be able to swap travel plans in our mother tongue. The next day broke grey and raining and it made the decision to move on an easy one.

Our early arrival at Hall in Tirol, near Innsbruck, was fortunate as there were only 10 places for motorhomes and we watched an endless stream of later arrivals drive in, only to reach a barrier which said ‘full’ and they had to back awkwardly out again. Why Herr Camp-man didn’t put the sign at the street was beyond us.

Hall in Tirol

Motorhomes were only supposed to have one nights stop but Herr Camp hinted at another day so give us an inch, ... and we were still there on day two. Gorgeous weather on day 3 and Stuart did some grovelling to allow a third day, Herr Camp-man said we were now ‘a problem’, but he let us stay. We used the time in Hall to explore the wonderful old fortified town area on our doorstep 

We took another day to cycle to Innsbruck and back. I wish I could bottle days like that; cycling alongside the Inn river promenade under the dappled shade of the trees with the warm dry air balmy on the skin.Innsbruck was ringed by high rocky mountains that were bathing in sunlight the day we were there, it had a lively feel with street performers and a traditional band playing.

'Giant' sculpture at Swarovski Crystal World

Swarovski factory

On our last day in Hall we pressed Howard and Hilda into action again and headed to Wattens, the home of Swarovski crystal. The factory and Crystal World weren’t our intended destination but we couldn’t find the entrance to the cyclepath and ended up following the signs to Crystal World. Oh well, might as well take a look while we are here. It was a hot cloudless day and by the time we cycled back we were hot and tired and sat outside under the silver birch trees that rained an endless shower of bran flakes on us and the truck. 

Our time was more than up and we headed off to a valley chosen on our map. Aire number one didn’t measure up – it was no less than an expensive lumpy paddock, so we set off for number two. Along the way the road divided and Mrs Satnav sent us left, while I tried to recall the road signs, the road was narrow and I thought I had seen a ‘max 2.5 tonne’ sign and we are 3.5 tonne. Stu turned around in a tricky place and we got back on the big road, within 2km there was a tollbooth – something like paying for parking. It was a national park road to Krimml waterfall but we didn’t take time to visit as there was traffic for Africa, it being a long weekend.

Aire number two looked very hopeful, as we wound our way up the narrow steep road we passed gnomes crouched in the moss and ferns. It was a good price, free wifi, panoromic views and free if you ate at the restaurant, and (believe it or not) schnitzel was on the menu. The aire had other personal touches like a small chapel, a children’s playhouse, antique caravan and a welcoming Austrian cook cum farmer. The sign on the kitchen read “I kiss better than I cook” - it didn’t raise expectations but the dinner was fine.

Krimml falls - highest in Austria with total height of 380 metres

We took Howard and Hilda on a 40 km challenge, cycling to nearby Mittersil following the river, stopping at a bakery for a bun that encased a sausage, and apfel studel. We didn’t have much time to spare before catching a train to the massive Krimml waterfall. The bikes paid child fares, the helpful conductor stowed the bikes for us. A thunderstorm broke while we were on the Krimml waterfall walk and we took shelter in a coffee shop, arriving home dry but dirty from the wet gravel splattering over us.

The fields in Europe generally don’t have fences as the animals are kept inside barns that are alongside farm houses in the villages and hamlets. When we cycle through the villages we get a close up view of farm workings. We stopped in a hamlet recently to watch cows demonstrate their back-scratchers. Cows had come out of the barn and were in the yard, one yard had the budget version back-scratcher which was the heads of yard brooms that the cows had to rub up against. The farm yard across the road had a motion-sensor which triggered an electric circular brush to rotate. The cows looked blissful as they positioned themselves underneath the brush, moving their faces across the brush to have a good old scratch.

If Italy can be regarded as a thigh-high boot we dipped our toes in the thigh part of the boot. We were unprepared for the volume of traffic, we must have picked the most popular time of year to enter Northern Italy and are re-scheduling our plans to head to Venice. Everywhere we looked was booked out and teeming with people.

We spent 3 nights in Brunico, Northern Italy. The highlight was a visit to Brunico castle that serves as the venue for one of Reinhold Messner’s museums. He is a famous mountaineer originating from the area who climbed Everest without oxygen. Nearby was a cemetery of war graves from WWI and WWII, the cemetery was designed to blend harmoniously into the forest. Soldiers of the Austro-Hungarian army (669), plus 103 Russian, 13 Serb and 7 Romanian soldiers are laid to rest here in individual and mass graves.

Nineteen German soldiers from the Second World War who lost their lives in bombing raids also lie here, together with an Italian officer and five citizens of Brunico, who fell nearby in the final days of the war and were brought here. The war cemetery is taken care of by a ladies' committee, who give equal attention to every grave.

Brunico castle

War graves in forest setting

After an enjoyable three days in Brunico we took the old Brenner Pass road back into Austria, it was raining lightly and we could see the new toll road at a standstill, absolutely chocka with caravans, motorhomes and cars. We will do some more exploring in Austria before dipping our toes back into the boot of Italy.

Austria - Salzberg, bucket list drive, liar liar pants on fire

Typical Austrian scene

Salzberg didn’t look much from the riverside – a glacial green fast flowing river, but once into the actual city we saw beautifully restored buildings, often painted with murals or trompe d’oeil motifs that give the impression of carvings on the outside of the building. There was a huge marble fountain in the middle of main square overlooked by the large slab-like castle on the top of the hill. Spinning off from the main square were lots of perfect little lanes and some minor squares. Horses seemed to be the theme of Salzberg, the big fountain featured horses strangely squirting water from their noses. There were pairs of small horses pulling carriages for tourists, and horses as motifs and statues.

Salzberg

Ice caves, that sounded interesting. I have been to alot of caves but not an ice cave. The caves were near the town of Werfen, famous as a setting in the Sound of Music. We caught a shuttle to the cave ticket office and thus relieved of Euros we trekked uphill in the clouds to the cable car where we were whisked further upwards, then another trek to the cave entrance. There we waited quite a long time cooling down rapidly, the moisture of our expelled breaths condensing in the cold air.

Eventually the English tour set off, the group was handed out little (Davy?) lamps that burned with a naked flame. I was given one to hold – it was quite heavy and we were warned about the dangers of the flame. A heavy door blocked the cave entrance. The difference in air temperature between the cave and the outside caused a serious draft when the door was opened, and the little lamps had to be re-lit. After a while the going got a bit difficult holding onto both the lamp and the freezing steel hand-rail so I gave the lamp to Stuart, all the while feeling a bit nervous about safety of my synthetic trousers and shell of my down jacket. There were some natural ice formations growing in the cave and a lot of stairs to keep your eye on while moving through the tour.

Castle in Werfen,
seen on way up to ice cave - has been used in various movies

It wasn’t too long before it happened – only it wasn’t me. Flames were licking from Stuart's quick-dry trekking pants, he frantically extinguished the blaze with his spare hand. His fingers were burned and the trousers bore a congealed molten nylon mess down one side.

The guide was oblivious to the little drama being played out within his group of charges, however he singled Stuart out twice to ask him if he was ok. Must have been the white beard and the request for pensioner discount. Stuart soothed his burn on the freezing hand rails and had to rip open his melted pocket to get to our return tickets.

We had an unmemorable day of continuous rain before ending up by chance (aka the Aire Bible)  in Maria Alm where we navigated our way to an aire on a farm. Fabulous outlook but we had a stinky neighbour – a billy goat. I flicked water at him in an attempt to get him to sit by another motorhome. We enjoyed wandering around the music festival at Maria Alm, the participants and the audience dressed in national costume for the occasion.

View from aire at Maria Alm

Maria Alm street scene

A couple of days later we said goodbye to the stinky billy goat and set off under a blue cloudless sky for our trip over Gross Glockner pass.  

The road is a ‘must-do’ for motoring enthusiasts of all types, 48km long with lots of everything – mountains, hairpin bends, sweeping views, glacial valleys, marmots, choughs (black alpine birds) and did I mention vehicles? There were swarms of lycra clad cyclists, packs of motorcycles, buses, cars, scooters, a few motorhomes and it was the day for the vintage tractor club outing. Yes, chugging along the well formed road was a collection of ancient small frog-green tractors, one towing a tank and another with hay bales. The road is a magnet for vintage car, classic car, motorcyle outings and as we were blessed with a warm, clear, blue sky day. The tractors would have had a good day out. All this loveliness doesn't come cheaply and we had to pay $NZ55 for a days driving.

Parking at the highest parking lot near Kaiser Franz Josef glacier was at a premium and we had to wait in a holding pen until sufficient space was available. Once in the high parking lot we were ushered into a bus park and young man pointed out the free shuttle bus that took us all of 500m uphill (we must look very infirm, or too much NZ sun has taken its toll).
There was a multi-storey parking building at the top of the road - something I don't think we will ever see happening alongside the NZ Franz Josef glacier. Done in reasonable taste however.

Switchbacks, Chausson is the white box
photo credit: Stuart

Marmot

Kaiser Franz Josef Glacier

At the end of the day, after admiring the views of the glacier, glacial valleys, high mountain peaks, lakes, marmots .... we had done our dash and we re-traced our route back to the entrance. Much as some wild camping looked tempting, they have your number (XC16ACH)!

Chausson retained a hot brake smell even with using the gears to control descents, for quite a while. How the cyclists managed I don’t know.

I said a silent goodbye to the Frau at the campground where we had stayed for 3 (mostly) wet days. Admittance to her reception area was through a large maroon door, entry electronically controlled.

You had to push VERY hard to get in, and each time except the last, I managed to bungle the operation and Frau was not happy at getting off her seat to pull the door open. She would exclaim in voluble German how useless I was.

It was unfortunate that I had to call Frau and tell her that (history repeating) ‘Miele wachen machine kaput’. She grabbed a handful of over-priced tokens and dawdled after me, the candy floss hair nodding at each step. Frau opened the machine door then slammed it shut, inserting one of her tokens to get a result. ‘There, it is all in the slamming’ I think she said. 

It had only been a half hour previous that we had arrived and she leaned out the window and muttered ‘Grossen Wohnmobile’ before calling her son to sort me out. (On a motorhome scale we trend toward the smaller end and I hadn’t thought of us being ‘Grosen’). Frau also refused to take plastic and insisted I return to pay in ‘kas’ at the prescribed time – written down for me on a slip of paper and unlined. Stuart wasn’t having a bar of dealing with her, booking-in is a pink job and toilet emptying is a blue job.

We had managed however a good cycle trip to the nearby lake and it had been heaving with people – a lot of them from the Arab states. The wet weather keeping them off the mountain trails.

Next in our sights is another lake, Innsbruck and then tentative steps towards the Dolomites in Italy.

Three High Places

Chausson is on the right, the dark one

Garmisch-Partenkirchen, marked on the German Alpine Road as a highlight was up for our inspection. We parked on a 110 place aire, which was adjacent to a cable car operation. It was a glorious day and we paid our money, chose our carriage and ascended about 1000m up to high alpine pastures, where we alighted to a wrap-around view of jagged rocky mountains. Cows were grazing, their clanking bells the only noise in the still air, lucky with the weather, we could see for miles. The name of the experience was unfortunate – Wank, described as being suitable for families and senior citizens. Hmmm.

An experience for families and senior citizens

That evening we did some research on the next high place and set off in the morning on a lovely clear blue sky day for Lake Eibsee where we intended to catch a cog wheel train then a cable car up to the top of Germanys highest mountain – Zugspitze. The views would be stupendous, I had worked out there was an aire nearby and we drove through the chaos of Munich’s midsummer Saturday-traffic. There was a bit of difficulty finding the right entrance to the aire, but we parked up and started consulting our maps about the best route to the station.

Something wasn’t feeling right – we were next to a lake but there wasn’t much of any kind of services and also – no mountain! I had picked the wrong name out of the aire-bible and we didn’t have time to turn around and battle the traffic. We made the best of what we had and cycled the lake perimeter. The lake was deep blue fringed with a turquoise shoreline, the sun reflecting off the white rock lakebed. People had all manner of non motorised water toys out and sunbathers filled every little white beach.

X6 parked on glacier at Zupspritze

 To resolve that feeling of FOMO (fear of missing out) we were up early the next day and after the rain cleared, drove back to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, found the cog-wheel train station and parked on the side the road. We bought our tickets with 2 minutes to spare for the first departure of the day.

The cog railway went up a steep incline and into a tunnel arriving at Zugspitze Glacier at 2600 metres. The trains need the cog mechanism underneath to be able to pull themselves up. We had breakfast at the glacier restaurant and waited a few hours for the drizzle to clear, enjoying the free wifi. The next highlight was the cable car to the summit, it seemed to whizz along – 9 metres a second, covering 1km. Stuart climbed to the summit (nearly 3000m – Mt Cook 3700, using a via ferrata. I chickened out, heights have always made me nervous and the iron was wet and slippery.

When the weather cleared we didn’t get the blue skies of the previous day, but the views were still amazing – mountains all around. Stuart went on a tobaggan ride accompanied mainly by children and a bunch of Muslim girls out for the day, loosing his favourite $2 shop glasses in a tube - irreplaceable. Unfortunately the cloud descended as we took a different cable car down back to the cog railway catching glimpses of the forest below and whisking past the rock face.

Stuart during summit

Jane practising ferrata techniques

The third high place was a visit to the Eagles Nest. We had camped near Berchtesgaden, drove to the (need I say – free parking area), stumped up the entrance fee and with the rest of the great unwashed – we were ushered onto pre-designated buses for the 7km ride up to 1834 metres.

To get to the actual top we walked through a 124 metre tunnel and took a brass panelled lift up another 124 metres. The lift and tunnel were orginally built to transport Adolph Hitler to the mountain top residence. He rarely stayed there however, preferring a grand holiday residence lower down the mountain. The Eagle’s Nest (a name the Americans gave it) was used to receive dignataries, it is now basically a restaurant which disappointed me, to find out more I would have to visit the Dokumentation Centre back down in the valley.

Look at the cog rail

 We enjoyed lunch and morning tea to celebrate Stuart’s birthday, then were bussed back down to visit the idyllic valley close to the German/Austrian border, where together with his henchmen Hilter chased out the local people and erected fine houses, each with their own bunker. He turned this area close to where we stayed for 3 days, into an off-limits zone .

The Nazi leaders planned and strategized in this second seat of power. We visited an exhibition about the sinister history of this holiday area. Alot had been bombed by Allied forces, however some of the large communal bunker had been excavated and we walked through some of this massive bunker system , and even got slightly lost at one stage. The bunkers had been built for comfort with air conditioning and hot air heating ducts, and all the other necessities to house a small army. The exhibition was a massive information overload and after walking around in the hot sun most of the day I was flagging and looking forward to getting back to our aire for a cup of tea. At the aire some of the wohnmobiles scored a fantastic view of the mountains – I think they don’t moved as we never got a chance in 3 days to see the mountain view from our wohnmobile - and had to settle for a view of the men’s urinal (why don’t they close the door!).

Eagle's Nest

 On to Austria next, land of the cheap diesel – but our vignette is nearly expired and we only used 15 minutes of it. Will need to find some LPG for our tank before we go as we are not certain on the availability in Austria. The big ticket item in Austria is the Gross Glockner pass, one of the bucket list driving experiences apparently. We will need to pick our day carefully.

Two frauleins - one from Australia at Eagles Nest

Bavarian delights

I feel ashamed that I hadn’t known what a beautiful area Bavaria and the alps is, it has been an unexpectedly pleasant surprise. It beats other countries we have traveled in for beauty, incredible cycle trails and superb roads, not to mention the variety of beers and breads.

We are near the borders of Germany, Austria and Switzerland, and our plan is to avoid the holiday hotspots at the coastal resorts, see some alpine areas as well as escape the worst of the heat. 

We have been roughly following the German Alpine Road. It is 450 km long and starts at Lake Constance, it finishes roughly at Berchtesgaden on the Austrian border.

We traveled alongside Lake Constance, a large lake with the border between Switzerland and Germany running through the middle. Vineyards on the slopes lead down to the lake making a lovely backdrop. We picked an aire in Meersberg based on the trusty aire bible The aire was a big gravely yard about 1km from the town and we had an unfriendly German couple and their dog (he looked alright) camped next to us.

Meersberg

Bubble blowing bear

Howard and Hilda were released from the garage and we went exploring Meersberg. A popular but still lovely old walled town on the lakes edge, it even had a schloss and a zeppelin museum, speaking of which, there was one flying above us advertising a theme park.

We walked along the lake edge eating ice creams and watching ferries, quite large ones, sailing up and down and across the lake to Switzerland. I looked at the menus outside openair restaurants and sneaked a peek at diners’ plates. It all looked like sausage, schnitzel and pommes (is that a French word?). German restaurants don’t seem to have the popularity around the world that they do in their homeland.

The lake area is a transition zone between the Black Forest and Bavaria. The next morning we were off early to Bavaria, stopping for a small quantity of diesel, cheaper in Austria apparently. Once away from the lake we started climbing and were soon following a twisting turning road through forest. When we popped out of the forest road we were surrounded by mountains and meadows. The hillside was dotted with large chalet style houses, we started travelling through ski resort towns.

The next aire we found had a friendly German couple camped next to us who more than made up for the other lot. The countryside is picture postcard stuff and criss-crossed with walking and cycling tracks. Lush grassy hills are set against a backdrop of craggy mist shrouded mountains with just a touch of dirty snow here and there. Holiday homes and Gasthofs are clustered in hamlets, most having a chapel on a hilltop.

We cycled to the main town in the valley – Oberstdorf, it reminded us of Banff in Canada, we were entranced watching the skiers hurtling down huge artificial grass ski-jumps. The town was very picturesque and filled with tourists buying up large at the outdoor clothing shops. Thunderbolts and lightning on the way back and we ended up soaked through – peddling furiously for 9km and blinded by rain.

At dinnertime we were treated to music from a Bavarian brass band playing soothing melodies, accompanied on percussion by goats in the nearby field. After a while the melodies began to sound all the same, the goats must have agreed as they seemed to stop ringing their little bells.

We spent a couple of nights in Fussen enjoying cycle rides around the lakes and visiting a couple of castles. Only viewing from the outside you understand, the queues were so long at 10.30 we would have had to wait until 3.30 to get in. We left Howard and Hilda in chains and enjoyed a lovely 40 min walk to Neuschwanstein castle up a beautifully kept road with trees shading us. Shire type horses were pulling carriages uphill for those not inclined to walk. Neuschwanstein is another ‘Disney’ icon of a castle and looked stunning set against a dramatic moutain backdrop.

Nearby Hohenschwangau is another castle, much older and a short walk from Neuschwanstein .

Neuschwanstein

The aire at Fussen is the biggest we had experienced – we slotted ourselves into number 9 – right opposite reception to pick up the free wifi (thank goodness, we were hanging out for wifi). There were about 200 sites and every night it was full with hopeful late-comers trawling through looking for a spot. One optimist was driving something the size of a bus and towing a trailer with a Mercedes 380 stationwagon on it.  

Picking up from the last post - I did manage to get the washing done, talk about a saga. Suffice to say I was ready at 9.30 for the first load, and finally got the sheets through the dryer by 6.30pm. The machine went into lock down – my unwashed clothes trapped in the Miele maw. It was partly operator error as the instructions were in German and a friendly lady interpreted but didn't really understand the workings. Quite a few unused euros went into the machine to add insult to injury. I thought it had all gone to hell in a handcart when the coin box went on the blink and we gave it a good thump – the lights went out, and the next morning when the man came round I used my best German – machine est kaput. He managed to release my dirty clothes by trickery that Stuart wished he had thought of.

Moving along we are freewheeling along the German Alpine Road towards Austria, yes we have the vignette, a bit premature as we are still in Germany for a while and traveled in Austria for a whole 15 minutes.

And into Germany

 

I was sad to say goodbye to Phil and Jenny, not only loosing their company but it meant taking the plunge and moving to the next country – Germany. The road signs are so scary – the words look as if something bad is imminent.

Our first stop was Impflingen – Stuart’s wisecrack was it is the same as dwarf throwing only with imps. Impflingen was surrounded by vineyards, wheat fields and orchards. Apricots were being harvested as we cycled by on the lovely little concrete roads that separated the fields. We couldn’t figure out if they were public roads, they seemed to be used as cycleways and tractor-roads. When no one was looking I stole across to pluck a couple of those lucious looking fruit, but when they were within my grasp it was obvious those golden fruits were as hard as rock, so they remained on the tree.

We are flying blind in Germany, we have an enormous book map of France but only a fold out map for Germany which is low on detail. No Lonely Planet, no Rough Guide and we don’t have a lot of internet data to play with. We are using our book of camping aires as a guide to where there might be interesting places to stay.

We settled on going to a Bad place. Bad – means (thermal) bath and there were a lot of Bad places to choose from. The one we picked had an aire for wohnmobiles, set under leafy trees beside an expensive spa with a big open air pool. Even with the 10% discount we were offered, the spa seemed pricey. What amazed me was that the pool was only separated from the general public by upright slabs of stone that had people-sized gaps between them. This would not do in NZ.

Stuart has stopped at the fruit stall for raspberries

It has now got very hot – 30 degrees by 10 o’clock in the morning. We pressed on to a mountain area thinking (wrongly) that it would be cooler. We are now in the middle of the Black Forest area.

The Black Forest isn’t black – looks to me more blue/green. The villages are punctuated with needle like steeples. Steep pitched red tiled houses are huddled together around the church, and the Gasthofs (guest houses) are usually a floral bonanza to behold.

We curse the satnav at times and watched with amusement as a Swedish couple obviously following their satnav zig-zagged around town, even ending up behind the aire at the cemetary, before parking next to us. That particular aire didn’t score very highly on my scale of aire-points, all it offered was a chance to empty the toilet. However satnav was very well behaved and spot-on as she navigated us around the larger cities directing us to motorways and roundabouts, as well as through the main shopping thoroughfare if she could. We would really be blind in these situations – impossible to follow a detailed map if you had one, read the unfamiliar signs and keep up with the traffic. In one place in Germany there was no speed limit and traffic was hurtling past us.

Big cuckoo clock, Triberg

Our arrival in Germany is a big bread revelation for Stuart, he loves his bread and thought he couldn’t live without fresh French baguette for breakfast and lunch. On our first morning he chose a variety of seedy and grainy rolls at the bakery. Two hours later we visited a supermarket and he loaded long life bread into the trolley (in case of a bread emergency). In addition to the above mentioned rolls he bought some dark looking stuff for toast. Then he found the bread dispensing machine. This called for decisions – something he is finding harder as he gets older. There were 12 different kinds of bread. There was a pic of each type of bread with the price – push the button and it comes out. He stopped at just 2 choices which were warm and eaten straight away in the truck.

We spent a couple of nights at an aire that scored high points, (I should compile a matrix) cowbells, churchbells, large chalets and alpine meadows surrounded us. There was a free open-air ‘natural’ swimming pool a short distance away and as I had endured several days in the 30s I dragged Stuart along for a swim. Not quite what I expected – it was very big with all the usual pool trappings but the water was a murky brown colour and the bottom was gravel – still I was very hot. The water was very cold and I took ages to achieve neck-high immersion. It was incredibly popular though and I took great care not to ingest any of the turbid liquid. Luckily the wacky French requirement for men to wear speedos in swimming pools didn’t seem to apply.

The next day we had some reprieve from the heat with temperature dropping to mid 20s.

Moving right along, but not very far, we set up camp at an aire close to a lake, ie putting the handbrake on and faffing with levelling ramps if the gas hotwater won't work. We are very close to the Swiss border but won’t be crossing into Switzerland as we are restricted by export terms to stay in EU countries.

As in the other parts of Germany we visited, the cycle paths are excellent and we did a 20km circuit of the lake. Pine trees on the surrounding hills almost touched the lake’s edge. We watched some kids on a couple of sailboats, shades of Swallows and Amazons, their sails reflected beautifully in the dark waters of the lake, voices carrying across the water.

Next step is to get out the map, consult the bible and plan our next night’s possible spot, we might need to factor in a camping ground if we don’t find a waschsalon (laundromat).

Travels with Phil and Jen

Little Venice, Colmar

We are well and truly in the German-looking but French speaking area of France – ALSACE. It had been at the top of my ‘to visit’ list. The architecture is German, the food is a mixture of French and German with some local Alsation specialities thrown in. The wine is different as well – quite good whites, gewurtztraminer and pinot gris styles. The houses in the villages are postcard perfect – half-timbered and a lot of them painted sherbert colours which is different from England which tends to half-timbered + white. The shuttered windows have planter boxes overflowing with flowers and I think I am starting to get all geraniumed-out.

We have been travelling with our friends Phil and Jenny and have experienced some big temperature fluctuations. It was very hot in Colmar and Ribeauville – 35 degrees outside and hotter in!

In Colmar we visited ‘Little Venice’ which had small boats taking tourists on trips between tall houses that had their feet in the canals. The old town had narrow cobbled lanes and very old but well preserved houses. A very confusing place to navigate, we were either on foot or cycle and both times nearly got lost. The aire we stayed at was very popular – there were rows of white camping cars in neat lines all vying for the limited electric points. Your fee included electric but it wasn’t necessarily available. We watched the ‘odd man out’ on the site – a huge mustard coloured all terrain vehicle try different pitches before he settled on a concrete pad. There was a ladder to get in and out of the truck and their little dog just stared down from the open door, totally stranded. The same truck held up a row of departing camping cars as he filled and filled and filled his fresh water tank.

As a geranium antidote Stuart and I drove Chausson up a steep road to the hilltop chateau du Haut-Koenigsbourg – we could see it miles away. It sat on massive pink sandstone terraces and was more a fort than a home. It was in a strategic defensive position and it had all the things you would expect in a defensive castle rather than an elegant chateau – moat, drawbridge, a keep, plus all the necessary ancillary items such as kitchens, stables – deep, deep well plus some very Germanic looking rooms emblazoned with symbols such as double headed eagles and the coat of arms.

On the drawbridge, Haut Koenigsbourg

While we were castleing, Phil and Jenny went ahead to the local municipal campsite to reserve a couple of sites, as they had previously visited the castle, or schloss.

On approaching the campsite, I spotted the sign on the road telling prospective campers to park outside and then approach reception, which we did. Two other camping cars arrived at the same time and had the temerity to just drive in and park (out of the way) of the entry barrier. The commandant was having none of this breach, and as I was returning to our vehicle she was leaning out the window ordering the 2 vehicles back on the road to do things in the right order! For once I got it right – unlike at the supermarket half an hour earlier when I neglected to weigh and price the vegetables before approaching the checkout.

In Ribeauville we cycled on the hottest day to a nearby village, the sky was a cloudless blue and the cycle trails went through vineyards, corn fields and some other UGOs (unidentified growing objects). It nearly killed Jenny what with the heat and a longer ride than intended. That night, even though it was hot, Phil and Jenny cooked duck breast and sauteed potatoes in duck fat for dinner. The next night was hotter still, it was the night of the European football championship final and the Mackays' offering only ran to meatballs. We gave up watching the tiny screen in the overheated TV room and assumed that silence from the village meant a French loss.

Obernai is a pretty little town about 25 km from Strasbourg, the municipal camp, like all the others, is excellent quality and more comfortable than aires if the weather is hot because you can put out an awning, set up deck chairs and spread yourself around. We used Obernai as a base for day trips. One evening Stuart and I were lucky enough to pass Obernai’s central church and walked in to hear the finale of an organ concert – the organists were playing Ravel’s ‘Bolero’. Images of Torvill and Dean circling the ice, dressed in purple played in my mind as the music reverberated within the vaulted stone interior of the church. The organists had a standing ovation and played an encore of a section of Bolero.

Another geranium and window box antidote, was our trip to the remains of the only French based Nazi concentration camp – Natzweiler-Struthof. The route was a steep climb up through a seemingly unending forest of close spaced pine trees, no other traffic on the road, and we climbed higher, passing no villages and not even seeing houses. It struck us if a prisoner did manage the escape, there would be nowhere to seek refuge. It was also a lot cooler as we gained altitude and would be bitterly cold in winter.

The camp was an internment place for resistance members, Jews, common criminals. It was where 40% of the prisoners died from the inhumane conditions, quasi-scientific experiments, and overwork at the nearby quarry. Double rows of once-electrified. barbed wire fences with sentry towers surrounded the camp which lay on the side of a steep hill. All that was left of the barracks were foundation footprints but the crematorium, gas chamber, cell block and autopsy room were intact.

For a lightening of atmosphere, the navigators and drivers had a rest from regular duties and dug deep into their pockets to find E4 ($NZ7) each for the return trip to Strasbourg. It is a large city, pop about 300,000 and is home to the European Parliament. We paid a visit to the cathedral, called yet again, Notre Dome. The outside was more splendid than the inside with a red sandstone delicate facade. It was a magnificent soaring monolith. Phil and Stuart dallied about outside and nearly missed the early lunch cut-off entry time (11.15) – Phil pulled the ‘from NZ, All Blacks’ card and they were let in the exit door for a quick looky-loo.

Petite France, canals, locks, narrow lanes, half timbered houses was where we treated ourselves to a proper lunch, three of us having spatzle, an egg pasta, with an Alsace rose to accompany it. The understanding about having a proper lunch was that there was no proper dinner. This is a concept Stuart struggles with.

Proper lunch in Strasbourg

Notre Dame, Strasbourg

Strasbourg

Yet again the term UNESCO Heritage site entered the itinerary in Grand Ile, the island on which Strasbourg was founded, packed with history. Our day out to Strasbourg complete, we caught the bus back to the motorcamp, Jen and I had a little zzzz on the way back.

We paid up for our three nights in Obernai and are now researching our next destination.