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.

World heritage churches and spa towns

We set up camp in a valley close to the hilltop town of Vezulay and assumed there would be no parking spaces for ‘camping cars’, so we cycled the steady uphill grind to the abbey that is inevitably perched at the top commanding a panoramic view of the little villages, fields and glades of trees.

The actual village, built in creamy yellow stone, cascaded down the hillside from the abbey. It had turned itself over to the tourist market, there were little hotels, restaurants and boutique shops, all bedecked with multi-coloured flower boxes. There were no areas to park a bike let alone a camping car and we ended up pushing Howard and Hilda nearly to top. Just before the abbey they were shackled to a barrier gate.

Nuns in long sky blue habits and black-clad priests strode purposefully between the various church buildings. The abbey was founded in the 880s and is another UNESCO world heritage site. It is a traditional starting point for the trail to Santiago Compostela in Spain. We saw a few people with a scallop shell dangling from their pannier/backpack – the scallop shell is symbolic with the pilgrimage.

Vezulay

Abbeye de Fontenay

After we had our fill of abbey, we freewheeled downhill to our campsite, Stuart couldn’t get Howard to top 48.9 km/hr while I was white knuckled applying Hilda’s brakes, with a backlog of vehicles behind me.

Next stop we visited the town of Avallon – another church, also quite old - 10^th century origins, underneath was a crypt with the original altar. I like a good crypt. Avallon had bronze frog motifs set into the cobbles and a large bronze frog statue, I haven’t found out the symbolism yet.

The ever helpful Mr (or is it Mrs) Google was consulted about our next destination and Abbeye de Fontenay came up as a sure fire winner. It scored for being another UNESCO world heritage site.

The abbey is very plain in appearance so worshippers are not distracted, the understated symmetrical gardens giving an air of elegance. There was a feeling of peace and serenity as we walked past the cricket wicket lawns – how do they get those stripes? our lawn has never had stripes but I guess we don’t really have ‘lawn’.

The building was started by Cistercian monks in 1118, and it evolved successfully over the centuries. The monks mined iron ore smelted it in their foundry used their forge to make tools that they sold for funds. I never imagined monks as smithys. The abbey was sold after the French Revolution as property of the state and ended up being a paper mill. In 1906 a wealthy family bought it and have restored it to its splendor of today.

After the abbey visit we pressed the satnavs POI (point of interest) button to direct us to the nearest aire. She came up with a winner – a campsite in a horseshoe bend of a stream fed by springs. The water was beautifully clear and hosted some deep green weed, trout and duck families. The town did its best but was never going to win the plus beau village prize. It had lots of springs running through it and the council had commissioned a mural to give a Venetian appearance to one of the buildings but that is as far as it got.

Campsite for the night

In Burgundy some canal paths were cycled, an extremely large viaduct at Chaumont viewed, and a couple of small towns with natural hot springs visited.

The most interesting one was Plombiere les Bains. To reach the town we descended a steep road, Stuart engaged the button on the dash that has a picture of a little truck with a giant gas bottle perched on the back and down down we went. Plombiere is still an elegant town and it was once obviously a very fashionable destination. There is no public access to the old baths, they had all been incorporated into modern versions of spas with people trailing round in white bathrobes. I couldn’t see Stuart being party to that. There must have once been a huge number of hotel rooms available but now some of those buildings, once grand and standing 5 stories high had broken windows and weeds had sprouting in unlikely places.

It could be Venice

It was at Plombiere that we noticed a crossover of architectural style. In France-regular, the buildings and houses are often terraced and built of stone covered in plaster. The roofs are tiled in terracotta, shutters in faded chalky pastels and front doors frequently open onto the footpath. More expensive gaffs have the full monty of sculptured hedges and rosebushes while the terraced houses have beautiful floral displays in pots outside. We can now see an alpine influence in stand-alone houses with steep pitched roofs, and dark brown stained wood.

Alsace was high on my destination list and I was not disappointed when we pulled into the cobbled one way streets of Munster to see storks complete with babies in their huge messy nests on top of chimneys and purpose built nesting platforms. They clattered their beaks noisely at tourists straining to take their photographs. Munster is close to the German border and famous for a smelly cheese that I bought in a fromagerie (instead of my usual shop of choice – Lidl). Alsace and its neighbouring department Lorraine have been passed back and forth between France and Germany following war settlements. They are definitely in France but look as if they could be in Germany, there is much to explore and see in Alsace which is what we are going to. We are waiting at the moment for our friends Phil and Jenny to join us at a canalside aire, ready to see more of Alsace.

In the town Renoir spent most of his life

Chateaux and Canal Country

Five chateaux in 5 days.

The first, Usse, is said to have inspired the fairytale ‘Sleeping Beauty’. Mosquitoes plagued us there worse than they had in the aire. There wasn’t lots to look at aside from a dodgy recreation of sleeping beauty in the tower, however it was a nice afternoon’s entertainment. The exterior of the castle has a strong resemblance to the Disney logo. Access to the attics was interesting and unusual. To get to Usse the GPS put us on a narrow 2 way bridge, unfortunately we had already rolled onto the bridge when we saw the sign ‘pont difficile’. We were over the width limit, luckily we didn’t meet anything big coming our way as it was a loooonnng bridge. The GPS proceeded to send us back over the river on a BIG bridge a couple of clicks down the road. “She”, in the GPS, must have saved us half a kilometre in total, laughing up her electronic sleeve.

Fellow campers, a different spin on a family holiday - Chausson in the background

Chateau Azny Le Rideau, was next on the list. It is famed for its setting beside a mirror lake providing exquisite reflection photographs – uh oh, 50% of the chateau was covered in scaffold, not such a pretty reflection. The excellent municipal campsite located 300 metres from the chateau gave no clue that a castle was nearby, in fact it seemed to be a secret chateau.

Afterwards the visit we treated ourselves to a glace with 2 flavours each, this was in addition to the apple strudel we had in the morning.

A navigation issue, no blame accorded, occurred on our way to Amboise so we stopped to make coffee in a parking lot and have a re-boot. Over the fence we could see a campsite, it was only 3.5 – 4 km from Amboise. A mere E6.60 for the site or 6E for the aire? A no-brainer. After lunch we took a circuitous cycle route to Chateau du Clos Luce, in Amboise, the death place of Leonardo da Vinci. Inside were well executed recreations in the rooms LDV used in his last days. He had been sponsored by the incumbent king to set up house in Amboise and work on inventions. The whole house looked like a comfortable place to live, compared with some of the big castles. There were models and AVs of his inventions. Outside in the beautiful gardens life size models of his inventions invited people to try them out, and big semi-transparent reproductions of his best known works swung from the trees. He was a painter, military engineering adviser, botanist, engineer. 

Spinning the wheel in Leonardo's garden

Chenonceau – we ignored the advice of satnav to plow through the centre of Amboise, and carried on up the road to a bigger bridge to cross the Loire and head to the Cher river.

Chemonceau was largely the result of powerful women overseeing the building and additions. From the mid 1500s the castle underwent transformations through the centuries and was used as a hospital for seriously wounded soldiers during WWI. The most eye catching feature is the castle's pontooned bridge that spans the Cher, Formal gardens flank two sides and inside is bedecked with tapestries and paintings by old masters. The best bit for me however are the innovative floral displays in each room, oh to have a job creating those beauties.

Chenonceau

We enjoyed where we were staying and took the time to cycle a circuit that started at the camp.

We cycled through quiet back roads, everywhere was intensive cultivation. We passed a mill that was clanking away as it worked and a nearby lock. There were some very attractive houses and some used the limestone cliffs as the rear buttress of the house and sported chimneys poking out from the top of the cliff. The gardens were beautiful with pristine flower and vegetable gardens. Logs for firewood seemed to be all cut to one metre lengths and stacked in very orderly piles. There seems to be a national standard for firewood – no mish-mash of lengths and widths.

We set off across country to Chambord. Started in 1519, it didn’t have many permanent inhabitants during its time and presented itself as a shell of a building. The exterior was very extravagant – a showpiece for the French aristocracy. The bit that had me in wonderment was the double helix staircase – two concentric spirals flights of stairs wound independently around a central column. If two people each take one flight they can see each other through openings but don’t actually meet on the stairs! The other amazing thing about this chateau is the sheer size of the grounds, surrounded by 32km of walls and cover 5540 hectares.

Chambord

By now supplies started getting low so we set off to find a Lidl, we found one in Briare where I got carried away and ended up with too much cheese – cheesed off? There are 3 aires at Briare, the first one we saw was next to the canal – nice spot, no spaces. There was another with less ambiance about 300m away so we stopped.

After a spot of baguette and camembert, we were on our bike recce and spotted that a space had been vacated at the ‘ideal site’. I prostrated Hilda on the ideal spot while Stuart sprinted back on his bike, threw it in the truck and took off. I, in the meantime was in situ chatting to an English couple with a Dutch barge moored in front of the ‘ideal site’. I looked up to see a different motorhome – closely followed by our Chausson bearing down on my bike. I stood my ground and pointed at Stuart in the Chausson but the red faced beligerant Frenchman refused to give up his claim to the ideal site and revved his engine as he drove forward to crush my bike. Discretion was the better part of valour and I dragged Hilda to safety.

Stuart moved to a park in the street and we went off for a tiki-tour of the area. There was the longest aqueduct in France just a stones throw away and lots of canal and velo paths. When we got back via the ‘ideal site’ there was another vacancy and the still red faced Frenchman magnanimously pointed that we could have this vacant spot, which was big of him considering it was free. We decided the view was worthwhile and pulled in.

We were enjoying a cuppa when there was another ‘bonne spectacle’ - two Frenchman having a shouting match about canal etiquette. It drew all the mohomers out for a sideshow. I couldn’t understand much but did catch the ‘bouche’ bit (mouth).

The French lunchbreak still amazes us. We try to go with the flow but needed items of repair from a hardware supermarket so biked about 7km to the nearest Bunnings equivalent only to find it closed for 2hr lunchbreak. Hmm, too far to head back so we treated ourself to a pizza and a tiki-tour. On our tour we cycled past a line up of caravans and campervans outside a campground – they too had timed things wrong and arrived at reception just on 12pm.

We are making our way through Burgundy in the direction of Alsace-Lorraine cutting through a corner of Champagne. Alsace-Lorraine, quiche-Lorraine anyone? Alsation dogs (changed from German Shepherds as times required).

Amboise cafe scene