The French Alps in 2010
Thursday 19th August
This holiday seems to have been a long time coming. It was back in the long and dark winter nights of January that it was planned, but being a bit of a worrier I wanted to plan out trip onto the continent as thoroughly as possible.
We have company this holiday in the form of one of the boy's girlfriend and we are travelling with Mr & Mrs Shag and mini shag.
Late afternoon we are all hitched up and set off to our overnight stop at Blackhorse Farm CC Site in Folkstone. We know we won't be arriving until after reception has shut, so made arrangements for payment and a late check in before we leave. After an uneventful 274 mile tow we pulled into the site, retrieved our details from the notice board and set up site.
We had a few drinks and a laugh before settling down for the night. I am unable to explain why, but I could not settle and was on edge, really worried about towing onto the train in the morning. Unable to sleep at all, I got back up at 3am and wandered the site, talking to people setting off for early morning ferries.
Friday 20th August
After arriving at the terminal, boarding is simple and before we know it we are moving and travelling deep under the sea bed. I get a telling off from herself for getting out to nose around, just after the tannoy says to stay in your vehicle.
Before we know it, it's light again outside and we are in Froggyville! Disembarking is straight forward, no customs and we are straight onto the auto route, on the right hand side, eek!
We have no plans as to where to stop tonight, but have 2 nights before we are due on our site in The Alps. It strikes us immediately how good the Froggy auto routes are to drive on, good smooth surfaces and virtually traffic free. Very soon it also strikes us how expensive they are to travel on as we hit our first toll booth!
We are making easy progress eating up the KMs, but I keep losing Mr Shag in my mirrors. Turns out he was slip streaming me to improve on his already very good mpg figures he's getting out of his A4 - the git.
Gas Oil is quite expensive on the auto routes, but I am relieved that service stations seem to be sites every 15 miles or so along the way.
We stop off at an Aire for lunch. Mr Shag get a chair out, plonks himself down next to the caravan in the car park and quips "France isn't like I thought it would be mind!" whilst taking in his surroundings. We are all in stitches and I have a good feeling about this holiday.
In the distance I see a fuel pump sign, and as we get closer it says 70km. I shit myself, and ease off the gas. Mrs Shag phones to remonstrate with me because I have slowed down.
TomTom POIs are loaded up and says fuel can be got in 25 miles. It's going to be a bloody close call! We follow the directions, and the needle is now under the empty line. I am bricking it and things are a little tense. On exit of the auto route the Shogun is running a bit lumpy and we come across an automated toll payment machine. I am frightened to switch off in case the car will not start again, and herself is struggling to work out how to use the machine.
My temper is at tipping point and I storm out of the car. The machine is like something out of the Krypton Factor but we eventually get it sussed. I run round back to the driver's seat, hop in, but herself is nowhere to be seen. Herself is walking back down the road to speak to Mr & Mrs Shag.
I ask her where she is going, and she says she was going to explain to Mr & Mrs Shag how to use the machine. I lost it, and I think I shouted something like "lots of swearing and get in the car woman!"
The Shogun is spluttering but after just a mile TomTom cheerfully announces "You have reached your destination." My heart sinks as I note the chain across the entrance and a Doberman (complete with elastic band round it's willy) sat guarding the place. We are in the middle of nowhere, with no fuel and I think I'm about to have a coronary.
No fuel station visible! Nothing! Zilch! I rip him off his mount and start to cry. We are on aback road and I spot the French equivalent of a corner shop with a 1960s pump on the pavement! Surely not? We drive up to it and it looks knackered, like it's not been used for decades. We turn round and are about to head off when this dirty smelly little man runs out to meet us shouting "Gasoil?"
I could have kissed him! In fact he nearly kissed us! Between me and Mr Shag he took about 220 euros, probably a month's takings.
I made my apologies to everyone and with peace and tranquillity restored we hit the road again. By late afternoon it was time to search out a campsite. Phoning ahead we confirmed that a site in Dole had room for us.
Dole is a pretty town. We saw enough of it while trying to find the campsite! We book in and pitch up (420 Km today). BBQ for tea before chilling with some well deserved beers. We laughed uncontrollably looking back at the day's events.
We all agreed that we don't really want to be here when The Alps are calling. We phone our site to check if they could accept us a day early, reserve pitches and hitch up in record speed after breakfast.
With a full tank we hit the auto route and head into the mountains. Until now, France has been quite flat. A few inclines but nothing to write home about. I know we have to start gaining altitude soon, but was not prepared for what confronted us.
It's every man for himself (throwing women and children behind him) as I hurtle along passing far too many broken down towing vehicles for comfort. The needle starts to creep up and I can feel the heat of the transmission in the foot well. The air con gets turned off, the heating goes to full blast and the windows get opened. The needle drops and we reach the top of the climb into some serious tunnel action!
The views are spectacular as the auto route threads it's way into the Alps.
T
After about 4 days I start to get itchy feet. Idyllic as it is, there is really no point in coming all this way and not see anything of the surrounding area, except for the inside of Lidl.
We did get out and about. A pleasant day was spent touring on the eastern shore of the lake, stopping off in the rather posh resort of Talloirs along the way.
I ruin any chances they may have had by firstly saying hello to them and secondly doing my impression of a harpooned walrus in the water!
Wow! Sheets of rain and a spectacular light show with deafening thunder claps. Being on rock, any water that hits the surface stays on the surface, and our awnings were under 50mm of water in no time. We were all out with oars digging channels to let trapped rain water escape into the lake. Believe it or not, it was quite good fun, and the rain stopped as quick as it started
Mrs Shag is not too well so we all squeeze into the Shogun and armed with a map we set off for the hills. Stopping in Albertville on the way to firstly look at the Olympic stadium. It was shut and fenced off! and secondly to take a wander around Decathlon. What a shop! They sell crossbows, guns, knives and everything. Unfortunately herself was with us so we had to make do with buying a few folding shovels in readiness for the next storm.
Moving up into the mountains the scenery was breathtaking with a new vista on every hairpin. It was hard going doing it driving solo but there was one lunatic towing a caravan and several lunatics on pushbikes doing the trip. We reached the summit where next stop was Italy, no snow sadly but we got a bit of off roading in!
Our new best mate, Joel, fancies himself as a bit of a physio (we think he's a phycho, but the spelling is really close) and explains how he once has a 'paraplegic' dog. Under the influence of drink, myself and Mr Shag think this qualifies him to have a pop at Mrs Shag's back. Our awning is turned into a treatment room and Mrs Shag gets Joel's full works treatment.
We head off, not really knowing where we are going to, but we have a picnic so don't care! We stop off at a place that does archery. This place is cool though. You don't just fire at targets, they have little stuffed bambis around the place in between the trees. Herself is appalled but we all think it's great
The Shogun is doing a lot better on fuel today, largely due to the fact that some git nicked our bikes in Annecy. Well, 3 of them anyway. They moved mine out of the way to get at the other three. I don't know what upset me most, the fact that we had 3 bikes nicked or the fact that they left mine behind?
That lead to the youngest saying "That's it Dad, it's official, your bike is too shit to steal!"
We got 350 miles under our belts and me and Mr Shag are , err, how can you put it? Shagged. We get the map out and start looking for campsites in the area. Mrs Shag has other ideas, she is suffering and wants to catch an early crossing tomorrow to get home and see the Doc.
She points to the map and says, "Look it's only that far!" to which I reply "Mrs Shag, it's 200 miles mun. That's as far as home to London, on top of the 350 miles we've already done, and it's tea time now!"
Mrs Shag is not listening and my head has gone. We tow through northern France at dangerous speeds and reach our campsite for the next 2 nights at 8.30pm just as they are shutting up shop for the night. We book in at La Bienn Assise and are pitched in no time (no awnings) and go out for a meal before crashing for the night.
Back on site we chill in the sunshine, larking about playing ball, drinking and eating snails.
The French side is a complete contract to the British side. It is chaotic!
Somehow we manage to catch our train and are on the motorway heading through Kent and on our final leg homeward.
It strikes us immediately how rubbish the UK roads are and how much traffic there is on them!
What trip!
Comments
-
Excellent story scarletsfan. brought back many memories...
(a) of almost running out of fuel this year too - the computer said a massive 35 miles left in tank - it is scary when towing! and
(b) of the Annecey area. Go to Chamonix next time too - well worth it.
0