I've lurked around this site for a few years and have always enjoyed reading peoples ride reports, so here's my write up of a trip I did in June.
It’s a long post so make sure you’ve got plenty of tea / coffee / beer and munchies.
The Plan.
Well there wasn’t really a plan, I booked the return ferry with Irish Ferries http://www.irishferries.com from Roslare to Cherbourg / Roscoff , which worked out at £133 for me and the bike, it did include a reserved reclining seat.
To get to Spain quickly I booked one way from St. Nazaire in France to Gijon in Spain with LD Lines http://ldlines.co.uk/timetables/saint-nazaire-gijon the cost for me and the bike with a 2 berth cabin cost £65, a reserved reclining seat was £47 ( check out how the £ is doing against the € I got a better deal by paying in euro ). On the LD Lines website you can only book one vehicle but if you phone the St. Nazaire office they will sort you out for more vehicles and they speak English.
So my only constraints were the ferry sailings, I studied maps of Spain & Portugal and decided to travel close to the border of these two countries.
I had packed my camping gear and planned to mainly use campsites and only use hotels / B&B’s if the weather was really shite or if I couldn’t find a campsite ( wasn’t sure on the rules in these countries about wild camping ).
Day 1
The journey to Rosslare was a nice leisurely dry run, took the back roads through Tandragee to Newry then onto the motorway / dual carriageway to Rosslare (boring).
Got to Rosslare in good time and had a very reasonably priced Sunday lunch in the café at the Super value supermarket just before the ferry terminal ( a lot cheaper than the ferry restaurant ) and bought some small bottles of water ( supermarket price €0-35, ferry price €2-50 for a 250ml bottle ).
Headed to the ferry terminal to see that there was very long lines to get onto the boat, later found out that the boat was almost full with over 100 bikes.
The bikes are loaded onto an upper car deck which has a steep ramp up to it, the crew will only allow one bike at a time on it, and packed fairly close together, tie down straps & bits of foam are supplied.
Took my small rucksack from the top box which had my airbed, water, flask, coffee sachets, book, portable dvd player & dvd’s, breakfast bars and 6 cans of Guinness, left my helmet in the top box, and made my way up to deck 10, almost the very top of the ship, and found the reserved seat lounge I was in, and immediately blew up the airbed to mark my space on the floor ( top tip ), then went for a wander around.
On this deck there are lockers to leave your stuff in, a medium sized locker was €6 for 24hrs but every time you opened the locker it would cost another €6.
Went to the next deck up, the sun deck, and seen this ship belonging to the Irish Navy tying up opposite, two lifeboats on the Oscar Wilde ferry would have been the same size.
Down in the lower decks where the bars and restaurants are were full of screaming kids so headed back to the reserved seat lounge which was nice and peaceful and did some reading, listen to music and drink my coffee then later on my carryout. Later on I then made my way to the bar for a few more Guinness, when I came back around 1am there was three other people sleeping in the lounge but when I awoke at 7am I had the lounge to myself, I must have been snoring
Day 2
Got up at 7am and went to the café to get some hot water for coffee, they have a water boiler so refilled the flask (free) and went to the forward lounge to make my coffee and have my breakfast bars.
Coming into Cherbourg harbour
It had been a very pleasant crossing, very smooth. The ferry docked in Cherbourg at 11am and there was bit of a wait to get off.
Once off the weather was a bit overcast but dry so far.
I’d decided as I had a bit of time to kill before I got the ferry from St. Nazaire at 2100hrs that evening, to go and visit some of the D Day sites, so made my way along some quiet Normandy back roads.
Visited some German Artillery Battery’s.
A shell from a battleship hit this bunker, went through the wall and killed everyone inside the room.
Then it was to the new memorial at Brecourt Manor, dedicated this year, to the men of Easy Company 101st Airborne (of Band of Brothers fame) this was where they captured the German 88mm artillery guns that was hammering the men on Omaha beach.
Then it was a visit to the American cemetery at Omaha Beach, a very solemn place, I see they have built a new visitors centre since my last visit, but the long line of people trying to get into it because of the tight security put me off standing in line.
The headstones of two of the Niland brothers, it was their story that inspired the film Saving Private Ryan, although there was no rescue party sent to look for the surviving brother because they knew where he was.
The 1st Infantry Division on Omaha beach
Then it was a visit to a place usually overlooked by people who visit the D Day sites, the German cemetery at La Cambe.
21,000 soldiers buried here, not all fanatical Nazis, some forced into military service under threat of them and their families being imprisoned in the German concentration camps.
Here’s a short video I’ve put together, hope you enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grR5A_tHgb8
It’s getting a bit late, so after spending some time exploring the lanes of Normandy it was onto the motorway and a quick run to St.Nazaire.
When you get to the LD Lines terminal you need to park in the car park and take all your documents into the booking office to get your boarding card and then make your way on your bike to the kiosk.
Bikes are loaded last so that they are first off.
You make your way to the reception onboard to get the key for your cabin.
This is a freight ferry that takes passengers, don’t expect entertainment etc, it has a very small shop, small bar / café, there isn’t a great selection of food in the café but it’s reasonable.
Met the South Paris Harley Owners Chapter on board, some nice shiny bikes.
The French have always impressed me with their bridge building skills.
Day 3
The ship was a bit bouncy on this crossing but it docked on time 1200hrs, again the sky over Gijon was overcast but very warm, took the motorway for a short distance out of Gijon then onto the N630 through the mountains towards Leon, nice twisty almost traffic free road, with some signs of the Basque population carrying out some civil disobedience, marks on the roads where barricades had been set alight, over the austerity cuts.
As I carried on higher into the mountains it was starting to get a bit wet but the roads were brilliant.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q2Oh3m5L6gM
As the road descends from the high mountains the temperature starts to rise and the roads start to get straighter.
Along this road, south of Leon, it was straight for as far as you could see with miles of corn fields either side, and very little traffic, so I decide to stop for a drink of water, within minutes of me stopping a traffic police car stopped beside me, he gets out and starts rabbiting on at me so I shrug my shoulders and act stupid, he looks at the number plate on the bike, then starts tugging at his hi vis vest, quick as a flash I reach into the top box and pull my hi vis vest out, he tells me to put it on and to move the bike off the road.
I carry on along some random roads and finally finish up in the town of Avila.
I check the satnav to find a campsite for the night but there isn’t one, so I make my way to the ancient city walls and come across a lovely little 2 * hotel called Puerta de la Santa, so it’s out with the phrase book and I book a room for the night, €35 for B&B, then it was a bit of mime & pointing to get somewhere secure to park the bike ( no English spoken here ) then the owner takes me outside, pulls a remote from his pocket and a gate opens down into his small underground car park which is for family use. Great.
The hotel looked to have been recently built, everything was spotless, it was better fitted out than some hotels twice the price I have stayed in and it was located beside the ancient walled city, lovely spot.
So get settled in, have a shower and then decide to have something to eat in the hotel café, remember no English spoken here so this should be fun, I sit at a table and order a beer, the waitress brings me a menu and tries to explain in Spanish what’s on offer, she gets a blank look from me, so I get the phrase book out and check out the menu reader, it was absolutely no help, so when all else fails it was eeny meeny miney mo, I pointed to something on the menu, she gave me a strange look and went away to the kitchen, 15 minutes later she appears with a plate of lettuce topped off with some thinly sliced pieces of smoked raw fish and some bits of bread, oh dear, luckily I had some food in my pannier on the bike so I’ll not starve.
So after that marvellous meal I have a walk around the ancient city, what impresses me most, is that the medieval town was alive with people and businesses, unlike some of the French medieval cities like Carcassonne and Mont San Michele which are just tourist traps filled with cafes and tacky gift shops.
The old with the modern.
The hills in the distance is were I think I’ll head to tomorrow.
The hotel at night.
Day 4
Breakfast at the hotel was a curious mix, you could have 1 cup of coffee, 1 croissant, 1 slice of fruit cake, 1 yoghurt. Suppose don’t expect much more for the price.
I left Avila in brilliant sunshine and it’s starting to get warm, heading towards these hills
Headed along the N502 from Avila through the Sierra de Gredos and enjoyed this road so much I turned around and went along it again to the AV941 towards Bejar, super roads.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtqvHDuE9_I
After Bejar, I took a narrow road which was a bit rough heading towards the monastery of La Pena Francia, as it was getting a bit hot I decided to have a little snooze under a tree.
One thing I noticed about Spain is that they have plenty of castles.
So it was onwards and upwards towards the monastery and the road improved greatly.
The views along the road were beautiful and also at he top.
This structure was a sun dial and also a means of harvesting rain water.
The monastery buildings.
And this carbuncle on the landscape is a radio mast.
Here’s a wee video of the trip up to the monastery.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9SuMNqSiVc
As it was starting to get a bit late I checked on the satnav for a nearby campsite and found one in Cuidad Rodrigo, so headed down the mountain again and made my way to the town, when I got there it was yet another lovely walled medieval town and the campsite was just across the river from the old town.
The campsite was small but it had a small bar / shop and was shaded from the sun by trees, I picked a spot to put the tent up, the gravy was pumping out of me putting the tent up, when a couple in the camper next to me offered a cold beer, lovely.
Turned out they were a retired English couple and they toured Spain and Portugal most of the year.
So it was out with the cooker to make some food.
And a very tasty dinner it was too.
Met another English couple on motorbikes who were staying on the site and swapped information on places to go.
After dinner I went for a walk around the old town, a lovely place.
A bit of history.
Ciudad Rodrigo is a small cathedral city in the province of Salamanca, in western Spain, with a population of about 14,000. It is the seat of a judicial district as well.
The site of Ciudad Rodrigo, perched atop a rocky rise on the right bank of the River Águeda, has been occupied since the Neolithic Age. Known also as Mirobriga by those who wish to associate the city with an ancient Celtic village in the outskirts of the modern city.
A key border fortress, it was the site of a 10-day siege by the Duke of Wellington and its capture from the French opened up the invasion of Spain in 1812.
Day 5
Up early and left Cuidad Rodrigo, again heading into the mountains, nice and cool when travelling along on the bike.
Heading south along the Spain / Portugal border, the roads are almost free of traffic away from the towns.
As I descend out of the mountains the temperature rises and it is getting very hot.
Navigating through some of the villages can be bit of a challenge, very narrow cobbled streets, not helped by parked cars blocking the street and having to turn a heavy bike around to find another way through a very narrow maze of lanes and alleyways, which are not marked on the mapping in the satnav.
Again the scenery is outstanding and the roads are first class.
Now into Portugal.
The roads are not just as good as Spain but still very good condition.
Riding along I see more castles and ancient walled towns and I can confirm that Portugal seems to have a very healthy Red Kite population, loads of them flying around.
Riding along the N256 from Spain towards Evora in Portugal I see on the hill in the distance another walled town so decide to have a look.
The Bull Ring, judging by the smell it seems to be still in use.
None of that auld health and safety nonsense here, no sign of any hand rails.
This must be one of the most scenic places to be buried.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URA8dJalTNo
I checked the satnav to find a campsite and see that there is one 30km away in Evora and make my way to it.
When I get to Evora I see it is yet another ancient walled town and find the campsite is about 3km away from the centre.
The campsite is a large site with a pool, bar and shop, and the only grass on the site is around the pool, so I decide to stay 2 nights here.
I decide on a spot to pitch my tent, the sun is still beating down and the gravy is pumping out of me as I’m putting up the tent, again a retired couple, Dutch this time, offered me a cold beer and chatted with me as I put the tent up.
I’m glad I carry 6” nails instead of normal tent pegs, the ground was as hard as concrete.
Then it was out with the cooker to make this evenings dinner then retire to the bar for a few beers.
Day 6
Woke up at 6.30am absolutely boiling, it was like a sauna in the tent, decided as it was so warm I would wear my shorts when I go for a walk around Evora.
So walking past a school as the pupils were going in the little shits were pointing and sniggering and laughing at my bright white legs and older people started to stare ( should have got myself a spray tan before going away ).
Evora is a lovely old town, lots of busy shops and café’s in the old buildings, a very nice public park and a very interesting church of St. Francis with it’s chapel of bones.
The church of St Francis
Lovely architecture and painting inside these old churches.
The chapel of bones. ( Some history )
The Capela dos Ossos (English: Chapel of Bones) is one of the best known monuments in Évora, Portugal. It is a small interior chapel located next to the entrance of the Church of St. Francis. The Chapel gets its name because the interior walls are covered and decorated with human skulls and bones.
The Capela dos Ossos was built in the 16th century by a Franciscan monk who, in the Counter-Reformation spirit of that era, wanted to prod his fellow brothers into contemplation and transmit the message of life being transitory. This is clearly shown in the famous warning at the entrance Nós ossos que aqui estamos pelos vossos esperamos (“We, the bones that are here, await yours.").
The lugubrious chapel is formed by three spans 18.7 meters long and 11 meters wide. Light enters through three small openings on the left. Its walls and eight pillars are decorated in carefully arranged bones and skulls held together by cement. The ceiling is made of white painted brick and is painted with death motifs. The number of skeletons of monks was calculated to be about 5000, coming from the cemeteries that were situated inside several dozen churches. Some of these skulls have been scribbled with graffiti. Two desiccated corpses, one of which is a child, dangle from a chain. And at the roof of chapel, the phrase "Melior est die mortis die nativitatis (Better is the day of death than the day of birth)"
(“We, the bones that are here, await yours.").
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1YTwA3LB4o
A stroll around the public park.
A walk around some of the other old buildings.
By this time it’s 2pm so I decide to stop at a café for some lunch, luckily the waiter could speak English, so ordered a coffee and a beef sandwich. Sat here for about an hour doing a bit of people watching, I was amused to see a group of very well fed Americans at the next table ordering salads for lunch.
Then it was a leisurely stroll back to the campsite for a cooling dip in the pool and a few cold beers in poolside bar.
It’s starting to get a bit cloudy
I have to say that the sight around the pool was something to behold, there was more wrinkles around the pool than there was on the clothes in my pannier, and the sight of seeing old men in skimpy budgie smugglers has scarred me for life.
After a few beers I made my way back to the tent to make some dinner, when the German couple, Ludwig and Bettina, in the caravan next to me invited me over to share their BBQ, we chatted about touring and different countries, and I found out that they came from the town of Schoningen near Braunschweig, which was a place that I lived in for 8 months in 1978 and he remembered the group of “Englanders” who worked for Gunter Mack at the time and the Pink Pussy disco. It’s a small world.
This is the reason I love touring and camping on a bike, you always meet someone who will have a chat on the campsite or if you stop anywhere.
Day 7.
Wake up to a nice cool morning, a lot of clouds in the sky. Time to start travelling north.
The route today will be mostly twisty mountain roads.
Climbing higher into the mountains the low cloud and rain was a welcome change from the heat but as you descended down the mountain it got hotter.
Again some cracking roads with very little traffic.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZhyQXgDLUbs
Stopped at a campsite just outside of Covilha in the Serra Da Estrela.
The campsite was in a forest and camping pitches were on little terraces amongst the trees. The site has a pool and a little bar / shop / café, not bad for €7 a night.
So get the cooker out for some dinner.
After dinner decided to check out the washing and toilet facilities, a bit basic, oh well.
And I didn’t try to do a jobbie into that wee hole.
Went to the bar / café for a few beers, bit of trouble getting the woman behind the bar to understand that I wanted a beer but got there in the end with a bit of pointing and sat outside on the terrace.
After my 3rd beer the woman behind the bar gave me a small bowl of what I thought were nuts but they turned out to be tinned haricot beans, yuk.
A bit later a lot of the other campers came to the bar because Portugal were playing football on TV in the 2012 Euros and as the beer flowed, tempers started to rise until some of them started to knock the shit out of each other, so I thought time to go to the tent.
11-45pm and one of the drunken campers decided to wash his dishes, he couldn’t of had many left because I heard at least 4 breaking on the ground.
Day 8.
Up at 6am to get an early start but didn’t get out of the campsite until 10am because the person who had the key to the gate didn’t show up until then.
Spoke to one of the locals who recommended that I should follow the road outside the campsite ( N339 ) to Torre and I wasn’t disappointed with the road and the views.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TM5pRfvTH4o
After leaving the mountains and crossing the border into Spain the weather became hotter with strong cross winds, made my way to Potes in the Picos De Europa national park and stopped for 2 nights at the La Viorna campsite http://www.campinglaviorna.com/en_camping.html A lovely campsite with first class facilities.
Had a chat with a few other bikers and even met a biker from Bangor, County Down, A small world.
Day 9.
Had bit of a lie in today, got up around 9am and went for a stroll around Potes.
It’s a busy little village with plenty of cafés and bars and today was market day, the village was buzzing with activity.
I had planned to go up to Fuente De in the cable car for a stroll around the mountains but the low cloud and fog foiled those plans, so I went back to the campsite after 1pm and while I was chatting to another biker over a coffee this lot came along.
An Italian vintage Moto Guzzi owners club, the youngest bike was 50 years old according to the guy I spoke to, the bikes were in pristine condition and every year they go to a different country.
This year it was Portugal and Spain, last year it was Ireland and the Isle of Man for the TT.
So after a bit of a chat I decided to go for bit of a blip along some of the twisty roads
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyP3mtrnYCU
Day 10.
Very heavy rain during the night, I asked the campsite owner what the weather forecast was, “low cloud and heavy rain for the next few days” so I decided to move on and make my way further north into France.
Travelling along the mountain roads was very slow due to the fog and not knowing what’s on the road ahead.
The sort of hazards I came across was, ponies on the road, they wouldn’t move until I got off the bike and chased them, then cattle with very long horns, same thing had to get off the bike and chase them, then it was donkeys, one stood in the middle of the road and stared at me and wouldn’t move, so had to slowly go around it.
Then coming down a hill into a tight left hand bend, a massive dog was lying in the middle of the road, it jumped up and chased me up the road.
So I thought feck this getting nowhere fast so decided to get onto the motorway to make up some time.
Jeez some dodgy driving by some of the truck drivers, veering from one lane to the other.
The weather was still very overcast until I got beyond Bayonne in France, so I decided to find a campsite and stopped on the Pyla campsite on the coast near Arcachon, west of Bordeaux. A very large campsite behind the Great Dune of Pyla, with bar / café and swimming pool, which was almost empty.
As it was a bit late, it was put the tent up and make some dinner.
So after dinner I decided to go for a stroll around the campsite, the sand dune was continuously moving and taking more off the campsite every year,
I tried to climb to the top of the dune but only got about 20m up when I had to give up, feck I thought my lungs were going to burst.
Day 11.
A scorching day, I decided to stay another night on this campsite and have a good explore of the sand dune.
Some Facts.
The Great Dune of Pyla (or Pilat) (French: la Dune du Pyla, or Pilat) is the tallest sand dune in Europe. It is located in La Teste-de-Buch in the Arcachon Bay area, France, 60 km from Bordeaux.
Pilat is sometimes spelled Pyla, hence the alternative name "dune of Pyla". More accurately, Pyla is the name of the closest town, Pyla-sur-Mer, which is part of La Teste-de-Buch municipality in the Gironde department.
The correct and original name of the dune is the Dune of Pilat, but because of the confusion that occurred, both are now considered correct.
Characteristics
The dune has a volume of about 60,000,000 m³, measuring around 500 m wide from east to west and 2.7 km in length from north to south. Its height is 108 metres above sea level. The dune is a famous tourist destination with more than one million visitors per year.
The dune is considered a fore dune, meaning a dune that runs parallel to a shoreline, behind the high tide line of a beach.
The dune has been observed to move landward, slowly pushing the forest back to cover houses, roads and even portions of the Atlantic Wall.
I walked along the base of the dune until I came to a low part and started to climb and walk the ridge, very fine sand which is constantly moving with the wind.
A truly marvellous sight.
Here’s a wee video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJL1MmHBig4
After dinner I went to the campsite bar and seen that they had a Guinness pump, so I thought “I would love a pint of Guinness” asked the barman how much for a 500ml (pint) glass, he said €9, feck I nearly had a heart attack, so asked how much the Kronenbourg was, €7, so asked what the cheapest beer was, €3 for 500ml, that’ll do me, didn’t taste too bad.
Day 12.
Set off in fine weather heading further north towards Roscoff.
I had got my date mixed up for the ferry sailing, I didn’t have the extra day I thought I had so due to the distance a lot of motorway will have to be used.
A very strong crosswind started to blow making controlling the bike very hard work.
Stopped at an automated toll booth that only accepted cards and of course it wouldn’t accept mine ! !
So I pressed the help button and spoke to several people until they found someone who could speak English, so after some confusion reading out the numbers of my card, I eventually got through the barrier.
Carried on along the motorway but the constant fighting to control the bike in the strong crosswind had tired me out, I was shattered, so I decided to find a hotel, I was just too tired to think about putting up the tent, so stopped at the Etap hotel near the motorway at Nantes.
Dumped all my stuff in the hotel room and set off to a large shopping centre to get petrol and decided to have a meal in a quality restaurant, had a Grande Royal Deluxe meal, one thing about Mc Donalds is it’s the same quality everywhere.
What confused me was the menu on the large board above the counter is written in English but try and order in English.
So got back to the hotel around 9-30pm and find that the gate to the carpark was closed. Shit.
Done a bit of faffing about at the gate pressing numbers on the keypad then I remembered that a hotel I stopped at a few years ago you had to enter the key code numbers for your room door to open the gate, so tried this,
wooohooo it opened.
Day 13.
Down for breakfast at 7am, not a big selection on the buffet bar so ate as much as I could and made up a packed lunch, filled the flask with coffee. I like getting my monies worth.
The wind has died down and the rain earlier has gone, kept to the back roads heading towards Morlaix, decided to find a campsite about an hour from Roscoff, so checked the satnav for a campsite and headed towards Perros Guirec and settled on the Le Ranolien campsite http://www.leranolien.fr/accueil-en.htm A 4* site, lovely spotlessly clean site, with outdoor and indoor swimming pools, bar, restaurant, small supermarket.
The minor roads around Brittany were fun to ride, very little traffic and every so often you come across little roadside memorials to someone killed during WW2.
Went for a walk along the coastal path where the views were lovely but I found it a bit odd that the locals were dressed in coats and scarves as if expecting cold wet weather, whilst I was dressed in shorts and T shirt, even the people on the beach were fully clothed. The weather was sunny with a slight breeze.
Back at the campsite 3 French teenage girls pulled into the next pitch in a car, and started to put up a tent, an hour later they still hadn’t figured out how it went up, so I went in to give them a hand, then they were off down into the town, I thought no sleep tonight with boozy noisy teenage girls, but they came back around midnight and there wasn’t a sound out them and went straight to bed.
What a difference compared to some of our own teenagers.
Day 14.
Last day in France, left the campsite around noon and leisurely made my way to Roscoff.
Stopped off at a supermarket to get some munchies for the ferry crossing and had a meal in a Buffalo Grill and got to the ferry terminal at 4pm where I met a really nice couple from Dublin who invited me into their camper van for coffee and a chat whilst we waited to board the ferry.
Again I made my way to the reserved seat lounge and inflated my airbed to mark my spot on the floor, this crossing there was more people in the lounge.
Went down to the lower decks where the bars and cafés were and feck the boat was full of screaming kids, so it was back up to the quietness of the seat lounge and have a read and watch a few DVD’s and drink a bottle of wine.
Day 15.
Woke at 6am and went to the café to get my flask filled with hot water and make my breakfast in the forward lounge.
The crossing was really smooth and the ferry docked on time at 11am. Again a bit of a wait to get off, but when I did it was straight to the café beside the Super Value supermarket in Roslare for an Irish fry. Yum.
And so that’s the end of my wee jaunt. Now to start planning for the next one.
I travelled a total of 3090 miles and the wee bike burnt 238.78 litres of petrol so an average of 58 miles to the gallon.
The cheapest petrol was at a motorway service station heading from Spain to France at €1-35 and the most expensive was €1-66 at a petrol station outside Bray Ireland.
Phil
It’s a long post so make sure you’ve got plenty of tea / coffee / beer and munchies.
The Plan.
Well there wasn’t really a plan, I booked the return ferry with Irish Ferries http://www.irishferries.com from Roslare to Cherbourg / Roscoff , which worked out at £133 for me and the bike, it did include a reserved reclining seat.
To get to Spain quickly I booked one way from St. Nazaire in France to Gijon in Spain with LD Lines http://ldlines.co.uk/timetables/saint-nazaire-gijon the cost for me and the bike with a 2 berth cabin cost £65, a reserved reclining seat was £47 ( check out how the £ is doing against the € I got a better deal by paying in euro ). On the LD Lines website you can only book one vehicle but if you phone the St. Nazaire office they will sort you out for more vehicles and they speak English.
So my only constraints were the ferry sailings, I studied maps of Spain & Portugal and decided to travel close to the border of these two countries.
I had packed my camping gear and planned to mainly use campsites and only use hotels / B&B’s if the weather was really shite or if I couldn’t find a campsite ( wasn’t sure on the rules in these countries about wild camping ).
Day 1
The journey to Rosslare was a nice leisurely dry run, took the back roads through Tandragee to Newry then onto the motorway / dual carriageway to Rosslare (boring).
Got to Rosslare in good time and had a very reasonably priced Sunday lunch in the café at the Super value supermarket just before the ferry terminal ( a lot cheaper than the ferry restaurant ) and bought some small bottles of water ( supermarket price €0-35, ferry price €2-50 for a 250ml bottle ).
Headed to the ferry terminal to see that there was very long lines to get onto the boat, later found out that the boat was almost full with over 100 bikes.
The bikes are loaded onto an upper car deck which has a steep ramp up to it, the crew will only allow one bike at a time on it, and packed fairly close together, tie down straps & bits of foam are supplied.
Took my small rucksack from the top box which had my airbed, water, flask, coffee sachets, book, portable dvd player & dvd’s, breakfast bars and 6 cans of Guinness, left my helmet in the top box, and made my way up to deck 10, almost the very top of the ship, and found the reserved seat lounge I was in, and immediately blew up the airbed to mark my space on the floor ( top tip ), then went for a wander around.
On this deck there are lockers to leave your stuff in, a medium sized locker was €6 for 24hrs but every time you opened the locker it would cost another €6.
Went to the next deck up, the sun deck, and seen this ship belonging to the Irish Navy tying up opposite, two lifeboats on the Oscar Wilde ferry would have been the same size.
Down in the lower decks where the bars and restaurants are were full of screaming kids so headed back to the reserved seat lounge which was nice and peaceful and did some reading, listen to music and drink my coffee then later on my carryout. Later on I then made my way to the bar for a few more Guinness, when I came back around 1am there was three other people sleeping in the lounge but when I awoke at 7am I had the lounge to myself, I must have been snoring
Day 2
Got up at 7am and went to the café to get some hot water for coffee, they have a water boiler so refilled the flask (free) and went to the forward lounge to make my coffee and have my breakfast bars.
Coming into Cherbourg harbour
It had been a very pleasant crossing, very smooth. The ferry docked in Cherbourg at 11am and there was bit of a wait to get off.
Once off the weather was a bit overcast but dry so far.
I’d decided as I had a bit of time to kill before I got the ferry from St. Nazaire at 2100hrs that evening, to go and visit some of the D Day sites, so made my way along some quiet Normandy back roads.
Visited some German Artillery Battery’s.
A shell from a battleship hit this bunker, went through the wall and killed everyone inside the room.
Then it was to the new memorial at Brecourt Manor, dedicated this year, to the men of Easy Company 101st Airborne (of Band of Brothers fame) this was where they captured the German 88mm artillery guns that was hammering the men on Omaha beach.
Then it was a visit to the American cemetery at Omaha Beach, a very solemn place, I see they have built a new visitors centre since my last visit, but the long line of people trying to get into it because of the tight security put me off standing in line.
The headstones of two of the Niland brothers, it was their story that inspired the film Saving Private Ryan, although there was no rescue party sent to look for the surviving brother because they knew where he was.
The 1st Infantry Division on Omaha beach
Then it was a visit to a place usually overlooked by people who visit the D Day sites, the German cemetery at La Cambe.
21,000 soldiers buried here, not all fanatical Nazis, some forced into military service under threat of them and their families being imprisoned in the German concentration camps.
Here’s a short video I’ve put together, hope you enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grR5A_tHgb8
It’s getting a bit late, so after spending some time exploring the lanes of Normandy it was onto the motorway and a quick run to St.Nazaire.
When you get to the LD Lines terminal you need to park in the car park and take all your documents into the booking office to get your boarding card and then make your way on your bike to the kiosk.
Bikes are loaded last so that they are first off.
You make your way to the reception onboard to get the key for your cabin.
This is a freight ferry that takes passengers, don’t expect entertainment etc, it has a very small shop, small bar / café, there isn’t a great selection of food in the café but it’s reasonable.
Met the South Paris Harley Owners Chapter on board, some nice shiny bikes.
The French have always impressed me with their bridge building skills.
Day 3
The ship was a bit bouncy on this crossing but it docked on time 1200hrs, again the sky over Gijon was overcast but very warm, took the motorway for a short distance out of Gijon then onto the N630 through the mountains towards Leon, nice twisty almost traffic free road, with some signs of the Basque population carrying out some civil disobedience, marks on the roads where barricades had been set alight, over the austerity cuts.
As I carried on higher into the mountains it was starting to get a bit wet but the roads were brilliant.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q2Oh3m5L6gM
As the road descends from the high mountains the temperature starts to rise and the roads start to get straighter.
Along this road, south of Leon, it was straight for as far as you could see with miles of corn fields either side, and very little traffic, so I decide to stop for a drink of water, within minutes of me stopping a traffic police car stopped beside me, he gets out and starts rabbiting on at me so I shrug my shoulders and act stupid, he looks at the number plate on the bike, then starts tugging at his hi vis vest, quick as a flash I reach into the top box and pull my hi vis vest out, he tells me to put it on and to move the bike off the road.
I carry on along some random roads and finally finish up in the town of Avila.
I check the satnav to find a campsite for the night but there isn’t one, so I make my way to the ancient city walls and come across a lovely little 2 * hotel called Puerta de la Santa, so it’s out with the phrase book and I book a room for the night, €35 for B&B, then it was a bit of mime & pointing to get somewhere secure to park the bike ( no English spoken here ) then the owner takes me outside, pulls a remote from his pocket and a gate opens down into his small underground car park which is for family use. Great.
The hotel looked to have been recently built, everything was spotless, it was better fitted out than some hotels twice the price I have stayed in and it was located beside the ancient walled city, lovely spot.
So get settled in, have a shower and then decide to have something to eat in the hotel café, remember no English spoken here so this should be fun, I sit at a table and order a beer, the waitress brings me a menu and tries to explain in Spanish what’s on offer, she gets a blank look from me, so I get the phrase book out and check out the menu reader, it was absolutely no help, so when all else fails it was eeny meeny miney mo, I pointed to something on the menu, she gave me a strange look and went away to the kitchen, 15 minutes later she appears with a plate of lettuce topped off with some thinly sliced pieces of smoked raw fish and some bits of bread, oh dear, luckily I had some food in my pannier on the bike so I’ll not starve.
So after that marvellous meal I have a walk around the ancient city, what impresses me most, is that the medieval town was alive with people and businesses, unlike some of the French medieval cities like Carcassonne and Mont San Michele which are just tourist traps filled with cafes and tacky gift shops.
The old with the modern.
The hills in the distance is were I think I’ll head to tomorrow.
The hotel at night.
Day 4
Breakfast at the hotel was a curious mix, you could have 1 cup of coffee, 1 croissant, 1 slice of fruit cake, 1 yoghurt. Suppose don’t expect much more for the price.
I left Avila in brilliant sunshine and it’s starting to get warm, heading towards these hills
Headed along the N502 from Avila through the Sierra de Gredos and enjoyed this road so much I turned around and went along it again to the AV941 towards Bejar, super roads.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtqvHDuE9_I
After Bejar, I took a narrow road which was a bit rough heading towards the monastery of La Pena Francia, as it was getting a bit hot I decided to have a little snooze under a tree.
One thing I noticed about Spain is that they have plenty of castles.
So it was onwards and upwards towards the monastery and the road improved greatly.
The views along the road were beautiful and also at he top.
This structure was a sun dial and also a means of harvesting rain water.
The monastery buildings.
And this carbuncle on the landscape is a radio mast.
Here’s a wee video of the trip up to the monastery.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9SuMNqSiVc
As it was starting to get a bit late I checked on the satnav for a nearby campsite and found one in Cuidad Rodrigo, so headed down the mountain again and made my way to the town, when I got there it was yet another lovely walled medieval town and the campsite was just across the river from the old town.
The campsite was small but it had a small bar / shop and was shaded from the sun by trees, I picked a spot to put the tent up, the gravy was pumping out of me putting the tent up, when a couple in the camper next to me offered a cold beer, lovely.
Turned out they were a retired English couple and they toured Spain and Portugal most of the year.
So it was out with the cooker to make some food.
And a very tasty dinner it was too.
Met another English couple on motorbikes who were staying on the site and swapped information on places to go.
After dinner I went for a walk around the old town, a lovely place.
A bit of history.
Ciudad Rodrigo is a small cathedral city in the province of Salamanca, in western Spain, with a population of about 14,000. It is the seat of a judicial district as well.
The site of Ciudad Rodrigo, perched atop a rocky rise on the right bank of the River Águeda, has been occupied since the Neolithic Age. Known also as Mirobriga by those who wish to associate the city with an ancient Celtic village in the outskirts of the modern city.
A key border fortress, it was the site of a 10-day siege by the Duke of Wellington and its capture from the French opened up the invasion of Spain in 1812.
Day 5
Up early and left Cuidad Rodrigo, again heading into the mountains, nice and cool when travelling along on the bike.
Heading south along the Spain / Portugal border, the roads are almost free of traffic away from the towns.
As I descend out of the mountains the temperature rises and it is getting very hot.
Navigating through some of the villages can be bit of a challenge, very narrow cobbled streets, not helped by parked cars blocking the street and having to turn a heavy bike around to find another way through a very narrow maze of lanes and alleyways, which are not marked on the mapping in the satnav.
Again the scenery is outstanding and the roads are first class.
Now into Portugal.
The roads are not just as good as Spain but still very good condition.
Riding along I see more castles and ancient walled towns and I can confirm that Portugal seems to have a very healthy Red Kite population, loads of them flying around.
Riding along the N256 from Spain towards Evora in Portugal I see on the hill in the distance another walled town so decide to have a look.
The Bull Ring, judging by the smell it seems to be still in use.
None of that auld health and safety nonsense here, no sign of any hand rails.
This must be one of the most scenic places to be buried.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URA8dJalTNo
I checked the satnav to find a campsite and see that there is one 30km away in Evora and make my way to it.
When I get to Evora I see it is yet another ancient walled town and find the campsite is about 3km away from the centre.
The campsite is a large site with a pool, bar and shop, and the only grass on the site is around the pool, so I decide to stay 2 nights here.
I decide on a spot to pitch my tent, the sun is still beating down and the gravy is pumping out of me as I’m putting up the tent, again a retired couple, Dutch this time, offered me a cold beer and chatted with me as I put the tent up.
I’m glad I carry 6” nails instead of normal tent pegs, the ground was as hard as concrete.
Then it was out with the cooker to make this evenings dinner then retire to the bar for a few beers.
Day 6
Woke up at 6.30am absolutely boiling, it was like a sauna in the tent, decided as it was so warm I would wear my shorts when I go for a walk around Evora.
So walking past a school as the pupils were going in the little shits were pointing and sniggering and laughing at my bright white legs and older people started to stare ( should have got myself a spray tan before going away ).
Evora is a lovely old town, lots of busy shops and café’s in the old buildings, a very nice public park and a very interesting church of St. Francis with it’s chapel of bones.
The church of St Francis
Lovely architecture and painting inside these old churches.
The chapel of bones. ( Some history )
The Capela dos Ossos (English: Chapel of Bones) is one of the best known monuments in Évora, Portugal. It is a small interior chapel located next to the entrance of the Church of St. Francis. The Chapel gets its name because the interior walls are covered and decorated with human skulls and bones.
The Capela dos Ossos was built in the 16th century by a Franciscan monk who, in the Counter-Reformation spirit of that era, wanted to prod his fellow brothers into contemplation and transmit the message of life being transitory. This is clearly shown in the famous warning at the entrance Nós ossos que aqui estamos pelos vossos esperamos (“We, the bones that are here, await yours.").
The lugubrious chapel is formed by three spans 18.7 meters long and 11 meters wide. Light enters through three small openings on the left. Its walls and eight pillars are decorated in carefully arranged bones and skulls held together by cement. The ceiling is made of white painted brick and is painted with death motifs. The number of skeletons of monks was calculated to be about 5000, coming from the cemeteries that were situated inside several dozen churches. Some of these skulls have been scribbled with graffiti. Two desiccated corpses, one of which is a child, dangle from a chain. And at the roof of chapel, the phrase "Melior est die mortis die nativitatis (Better is the day of death than the day of birth)"
(“We, the bones that are here, await yours.").
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1YTwA3LB4o
A stroll around the public park.
A walk around some of the other old buildings.
By this time it’s 2pm so I decide to stop at a café for some lunch, luckily the waiter could speak English, so ordered a coffee and a beef sandwich. Sat here for about an hour doing a bit of people watching, I was amused to see a group of very well fed Americans at the next table ordering salads for lunch.
Then it was a leisurely stroll back to the campsite for a cooling dip in the pool and a few cold beers in poolside bar.
It’s starting to get a bit cloudy
I have to say that the sight around the pool was something to behold, there was more wrinkles around the pool than there was on the clothes in my pannier, and the sight of seeing old men in skimpy budgie smugglers has scarred me for life.
After a few beers I made my way back to the tent to make some dinner, when the German couple, Ludwig and Bettina, in the caravan next to me invited me over to share their BBQ, we chatted about touring and different countries, and I found out that they came from the town of Schoningen near Braunschweig, which was a place that I lived in for 8 months in 1978 and he remembered the group of “Englanders” who worked for Gunter Mack at the time and the Pink Pussy disco. It’s a small world.
This is the reason I love touring and camping on a bike, you always meet someone who will have a chat on the campsite or if you stop anywhere.
Day 7.
Wake up to a nice cool morning, a lot of clouds in the sky. Time to start travelling north.
The route today will be mostly twisty mountain roads.
Climbing higher into the mountains the low cloud and rain was a welcome change from the heat but as you descended down the mountain it got hotter.
Again some cracking roads with very little traffic.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZhyQXgDLUbs
Stopped at a campsite just outside of Covilha in the Serra Da Estrela.
The campsite was in a forest and camping pitches were on little terraces amongst the trees. The site has a pool and a little bar / shop / café, not bad for €7 a night.
So get the cooker out for some dinner.
After dinner decided to check out the washing and toilet facilities, a bit basic, oh well.
And I didn’t try to do a jobbie into that wee hole.
Went to the bar / café for a few beers, bit of trouble getting the woman behind the bar to understand that I wanted a beer but got there in the end with a bit of pointing and sat outside on the terrace.
After my 3rd beer the woman behind the bar gave me a small bowl of what I thought were nuts but they turned out to be tinned haricot beans, yuk.
A bit later a lot of the other campers came to the bar because Portugal were playing football on TV in the 2012 Euros and as the beer flowed, tempers started to rise until some of them started to knock the shit out of each other, so I thought time to go to the tent.
11-45pm and one of the drunken campers decided to wash his dishes, he couldn’t of had many left because I heard at least 4 breaking on the ground.
Day 8.
Up at 6am to get an early start but didn’t get out of the campsite until 10am because the person who had the key to the gate didn’t show up until then.
Spoke to one of the locals who recommended that I should follow the road outside the campsite ( N339 ) to Torre and I wasn’t disappointed with the road and the views.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TM5pRfvTH4o
After leaving the mountains and crossing the border into Spain the weather became hotter with strong cross winds, made my way to Potes in the Picos De Europa national park and stopped for 2 nights at the La Viorna campsite http://www.campinglaviorna.com/en_camping.html A lovely campsite with first class facilities.
Had a chat with a few other bikers and even met a biker from Bangor, County Down, A small world.
Day 9.
Had bit of a lie in today, got up around 9am and went for a stroll around Potes.
It’s a busy little village with plenty of cafés and bars and today was market day, the village was buzzing with activity.
I had planned to go up to Fuente De in the cable car for a stroll around the mountains but the low cloud and fog foiled those plans, so I went back to the campsite after 1pm and while I was chatting to another biker over a coffee this lot came along.
An Italian vintage Moto Guzzi owners club, the youngest bike was 50 years old according to the guy I spoke to, the bikes were in pristine condition and every year they go to a different country.
This year it was Portugal and Spain, last year it was Ireland and the Isle of Man for the TT.
So after a bit of a chat I decided to go for bit of a blip along some of the twisty roads
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyP3mtrnYCU
Day 10.
Very heavy rain during the night, I asked the campsite owner what the weather forecast was, “low cloud and heavy rain for the next few days” so I decided to move on and make my way further north into France.
Travelling along the mountain roads was very slow due to the fog and not knowing what’s on the road ahead.
The sort of hazards I came across was, ponies on the road, they wouldn’t move until I got off the bike and chased them, then cattle with very long horns, same thing had to get off the bike and chase them, then it was donkeys, one stood in the middle of the road and stared at me and wouldn’t move, so had to slowly go around it.
Then coming down a hill into a tight left hand bend, a massive dog was lying in the middle of the road, it jumped up and chased me up the road.
So I thought feck this getting nowhere fast so decided to get onto the motorway to make up some time.
Jeez some dodgy driving by some of the truck drivers, veering from one lane to the other.
The weather was still very overcast until I got beyond Bayonne in France, so I decided to find a campsite and stopped on the Pyla campsite on the coast near Arcachon, west of Bordeaux. A very large campsite behind the Great Dune of Pyla, with bar / café and swimming pool, which was almost empty.
As it was a bit late, it was put the tent up and make some dinner.
So after dinner I decided to go for a stroll around the campsite, the sand dune was continuously moving and taking more off the campsite every year,
I tried to climb to the top of the dune but only got about 20m up when I had to give up, feck I thought my lungs were going to burst.
Day 11.
A scorching day, I decided to stay another night on this campsite and have a good explore of the sand dune.
Some Facts.
The Great Dune of Pyla (or Pilat) (French: la Dune du Pyla, or Pilat) is the tallest sand dune in Europe. It is located in La Teste-de-Buch in the Arcachon Bay area, France, 60 km from Bordeaux.
Pilat is sometimes spelled Pyla, hence the alternative name "dune of Pyla". More accurately, Pyla is the name of the closest town, Pyla-sur-Mer, which is part of La Teste-de-Buch municipality in the Gironde department.
The correct and original name of the dune is the Dune of Pilat, but because of the confusion that occurred, both are now considered correct.
Characteristics
The dune has a volume of about 60,000,000 m³, measuring around 500 m wide from east to west and 2.7 km in length from north to south. Its height is 108 metres above sea level. The dune is a famous tourist destination with more than one million visitors per year.
The dune is considered a fore dune, meaning a dune that runs parallel to a shoreline, behind the high tide line of a beach.
The dune has been observed to move landward, slowly pushing the forest back to cover houses, roads and even portions of the Atlantic Wall.
I walked along the base of the dune until I came to a low part and started to climb and walk the ridge, very fine sand which is constantly moving with the wind.
A truly marvellous sight.
Here’s a wee video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJL1MmHBig4
After dinner I went to the campsite bar and seen that they had a Guinness pump, so I thought “I would love a pint of Guinness” asked the barman how much for a 500ml (pint) glass, he said €9, feck I nearly had a heart attack, so asked how much the Kronenbourg was, €7, so asked what the cheapest beer was, €3 for 500ml, that’ll do me, didn’t taste too bad.
Day 12.
Set off in fine weather heading further north towards Roscoff.
I had got my date mixed up for the ferry sailing, I didn’t have the extra day I thought I had so due to the distance a lot of motorway will have to be used.
A very strong crosswind started to blow making controlling the bike very hard work.
Stopped at an automated toll booth that only accepted cards and of course it wouldn’t accept mine ! !
So I pressed the help button and spoke to several people until they found someone who could speak English, so after some confusion reading out the numbers of my card, I eventually got through the barrier.
Carried on along the motorway but the constant fighting to control the bike in the strong crosswind had tired me out, I was shattered, so I decided to find a hotel, I was just too tired to think about putting up the tent, so stopped at the Etap hotel near the motorway at Nantes.
Dumped all my stuff in the hotel room and set off to a large shopping centre to get petrol and decided to have a meal in a quality restaurant, had a Grande Royal Deluxe meal, one thing about Mc Donalds is it’s the same quality everywhere.
What confused me was the menu on the large board above the counter is written in English but try and order in English.
So got back to the hotel around 9-30pm and find that the gate to the carpark was closed. Shit.
Done a bit of faffing about at the gate pressing numbers on the keypad then I remembered that a hotel I stopped at a few years ago you had to enter the key code numbers for your room door to open the gate, so tried this,
wooohooo it opened.
Day 13.
Down for breakfast at 7am, not a big selection on the buffet bar so ate as much as I could and made up a packed lunch, filled the flask with coffee. I like getting my monies worth.
The wind has died down and the rain earlier has gone, kept to the back roads heading towards Morlaix, decided to find a campsite about an hour from Roscoff, so checked the satnav for a campsite and headed towards Perros Guirec and settled on the Le Ranolien campsite http://www.leranolien.fr/accueil-en.htm A 4* site, lovely spotlessly clean site, with outdoor and indoor swimming pools, bar, restaurant, small supermarket.
The minor roads around Brittany were fun to ride, very little traffic and every so often you come across little roadside memorials to someone killed during WW2.
Went for a walk along the coastal path where the views were lovely but I found it a bit odd that the locals were dressed in coats and scarves as if expecting cold wet weather, whilst I was dressed in shorts and T shirt, even the people on the beach were fully clothed. The weather was sunny with a slight breeze.
Back at the campsite 3 French teenage girls pulled into the next pitch in a car, and started to put up a tent, an hour later they still hadn’t figured out how it went up, so I went in to give them a hand, then they were off down into the town, I thought no sleep tonight with boozy noisy teenage girls, but they came back around midnight and there wasn’t a sound out them and went straight to bed.
What a difference compared to some of our own teenagers.
Day 14.
Last day in France, left the campsite around noon and leisurely made my way to Roscoff.
Stopped off at a supermarket to get some munchies for the ferry crossing and had a meal in a Buffalo Grill and got to the ferry terminal at 4pm where I met a really nice couple from Dublin who invited me into their camper van for coffee and a chat whilst we waited to board the ferry.
Again I made my way to the reserved seat lounge and inflated my airbed to mark my spot on the floor, this crossing there was more people in the lounge.
Went down to the lower decks where the bars and cafés were and feck the boat was full of screaming kids, so it was back up to the quietness of the seat lounge and have a read and watch a few DVD’s and drink a bottle of wine.
Day 15.
Woke at 6am and went to the café to get my flask filled with hot water and make my breakfast in the forward lounge.
The crossing was really smooth and the ferry docked on time at 11am. Again a bit of a wait to get off, but when I did it was straight to the café beside the Super Value supermarket in Roslare for an Irish fry. Yum.
And so that’s the end of my wee jaunt. Now to start planning for the next one.
I travelled a total of 3090 miles and the wee bike burnt 238.78 litres of petrol so an average of 58 miles to the gallon.
The cheapest petrol was at a motorway service station heading from Spain to France at €1-35 and the most expensive was €1-66 at a petrol station outside Bray Ireland.
Phil
