Saturday 23 March - Home

Where’s Bertie? He’s sitting on our drive at home, where he arrived via Thursday night at Cite Europe (a large shopping centre next to the Eurotunnel Terminal by Calais) and Friday night at a Caravan Club site just off the northern terminus of the M23 (S of London).

Leaving Neufchatel-en-Bray, on Thursday morning, the SatNav was programmed to Wissant with the intention going for lunch there, before continuing on to Cite Europe. The Aire at Wissant is a much nicer overnight stop than the one at Cite Europe (the latter is not an attractive location and suffers from people coming and going all night long, as the only reason most people would stay there is due to a late or early Tunnel crossing), but there were a few things we wanted to buy and we wanted to see what the EuroTunnel queues were like in view of the on-going French Custom’s industrial action.

It was always going to be tight to get to Wissant in time for lunch, and en-route we abandoned that plan. Plan B was a quick visit to Montreuil-sur-Mer (which, contrary to its name, is not on the coast). We’d not been there before, having been thwarted mid-journey last November by a road closure with an excessive diversion.

Our visit was only a couple of hours or so, and not nearly long enough to do the town justice. However, we did see enough to tell us that we will go back sometime to explore further.

Onwards to our night stop and our final approach was a little non-standard (SatNav’s fault) involving the ‘oh gosh, this isn’t where I need to be!’ emergency exit from the Eurotunnel check-in area. It turned out to be a very fortuitous bit of bad routing, as it informed us that: a) the delays only affected freight (lorries were queued back onto the Autoroute); and b) the sneaky direct access between Eurotunnel and Cite Europe, which Mick had read about, really is feasible.

We used that route to great effect yesterday morning, followed by an efficient passage through check-in, customs and border control. The rest of the process didn’t go as smoothly as usual, and would have been off-putting had it been our first and only experience of the Tunnel, but we still managed to arrive back in the UK by 8am, slightly ahead of our booked arrival time.

It was on our way to pop in on a friend in Crawley that I decided that I couldn’t face the M25 on a Friday afternoon. Ten minutes later I’d researched and booked a Caravan Club site for the night. At £21.30, it highlights the difference in pricing between the UK and Europe (remember our entire week at Silves which came in at less than twice the price of one night here). It also highlighted that in future there’s no point in me booking a Friday morning Shuttle on the basis of price, if we’re then going to spend more than the saving staying in the SE so that we can drive north on the weekend.

My plans for what we were going to do with Friday afternoon went entirely out of the window in favour of lazing around, with the absolute highlight being use of the mains-water shower, with user-operated temperature control and which doesn’t involve a push-button or a payment meter. I had it unreasonably hot and stayed in there an unreasonably long time. Bliss!

That brings us to today, when we got about as early a start as is permitted (the campsite is protected by fearsome armoured barriers, only operational between 7am and 11pm). The early hour gave us an easy journey around the M25 as far as Byfleet, where we stopped for a parkrun*.

I can’t say much about the rest of the journey. I knitted and chose things for us to listen to. Mick drove. And here we are, back at home, where we were unusually efficient with the unpacking, having everything in the house within around half an hour of arrival. It will be a longer process to get stuff sorted and put away and to deal with the laundry mountain – probably just in time for us to be thinking about the next trip!

(* I can’t think that I’ve ever recognised anyone purely on their voice before, but when I heard a ‘Passing on your right!’ behind me on my second lap of the course, I thought ‘That’s Paul Sinton-Hewitt!’. He founded what is now parkrun and whilst I’d never met him before I have heard enough interviews with him to know his voice.)

Wednesday 20 March - Neufchâtel-en-Bray

Where's Bertie? He's at the commercial Aire at Neufchâtel-en-Bray, where he's been on a few previous occasions. It's still €12 with all facilities you'd expect at a campsite.
Weather: Foggy start, clearing to sunshine this afternoon.

Yesterday morning I woke up in Saint Genouph at 5.20am and with one heck of a start. The cause? A revving engine that was squealing like a stuck pig. It was an early start for our neighbour, whose van looked to be at least 30 years old and whose engine has definitely seen better days.

Before we hit the road ourselves (at a far more sociable hour!) I took a little bit of a stroll. The signage in the Aire perhaps summed the place up in stating the local highlights: free wifi at the Aire; walks starting behind the church; and a vegetable vending machine at the Mairie. When a vegetable vending machine is one of your main boasts, there probably isn't a lot to see - which is a good thing really, as I didn't have the best conditions in which to appreciate the place:

Indecision as to destination preceded our departure: to break the remaining journey into chunks of not-too-much-driving-each-day, or to have a big driving day followed by a day of being stationary? The decision made was that we didn't yet need to decide, as wherever we stopped it wasn't going to be more than a metaphorical stone's throw from our route north.

A detour of less than 100m from the main road gave us this view for our lunchbreak.

We went short in the end, parking up at Nonancourt early in the afternoon, giving us plenty of time for a leg-stretch. The last time we were there was the first week of November 2016 and neither of us had strong recollections of the place, although our memories were jogged as we walked.

Looking along one of the two water courses that separate Nonancourt from its neighbour.

Just one of the half-timbered houses. In a nearby street there's a whole higgledy-piggledy row of them.

I'd intended going for a run around Nonancourt this morning, but waking up to a chilly start I talked myself out of it on the bases that it would be busy with people going to school/work, it was cold and it was foggy. It suddenly made far more sense to have a quick breakfast, drive 2 hours up the road and run when we arrived in Neufchâtel (the Aire sits right across the road from a disused railway line leisure route), so that's exactly what I did.

Tomorrow will see us take our final hop up to Calais and on Friday morning we'll cross back to the UK. Within a day or two we'll then be at home, whereupon I'll be able to find out if the running on this trip has cancelled out the cakes, such that I can fit into my posh frock for a do we're attending at the beginning of April!

Talking of cakes...

^{(The only point of note on today's journey (noteworthy for my own reference; I appreciate this is likely not remotely interesting to anyone else) is that it's not worth taking the toll road for the 12 kilometres preceding the free section south of Rouen. The €3.30 charge saved us (per the SatNav) 3km and less than 8 minutes. At least now we know.)}

Monday 18 March - Saint Genouph

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire in the small settlement of Saint Genouph, which sits around 4 miles to the west of Tours. It's free to stay here with free water, waste and wifi. Exact location: 47.37686, 0.60185.
Weather: Sunny intervals this morning, followed by a showery afternoon.

We'd not long arrived at a lake on the outskirts of the town of Châtelleraut this morning (only about 6km from last night's Aire) when Mick, in reaching into Bertie's garage for a bottle of water, asked why it was wet in there. A few minutes later and we had the entire contents of the garage spread over the two adjacent parking areas and a significant mopping-up operation was in progress. We've ruled out a couple of possibilities as to where the water came from and think (and are very much hoping!) that it was the result of a spillage from not putting a lid on one of the bottles sometime over the last few days, rather than a leak.

With everything dried as best we could and re-stowed, it was just a little later than intended when I set out for my run. I could have run from where we spent last night, but that would have involved little roads. By relocating to the lake, I had a forest full of trails at my disposal. In fact, so many trails that it took quite a bit of navigating to find the ones that formed the particular route I was trying to follow. That route (which is also a Strava Segment, which is how I found it) is 7.5 miles long, but parking on the other side of the lake from the start point, then doing a couple of circuits of the water at the end, brought it up to 10 miles, which I adjudged to be enough for today. Running around a forest may be conveniently traffic free (although I did have a bit of excitement with logging operations), but with a lack of views there's not much by way of visual distraction.

There are a lot of junctions to be navigated in that forest!

Looking across the lake towards Bertie

It must have been approaching the middle of the day by the time we pointed Bertie north to come to Saint Genouph, and there was a necessary stop at a supermarket en-route. I can't report on whether it's an interesting village that's hosting us tonight. The tiredness I was suffering before this morning's run was not improved by the exercise and this afternoon's showers have provided further excuse to do nothing. Thus I have not stepped outside of Bertie's door since we arrived and if I do so later it will only be to venture as far as the bin or the drain. On that basis, I would say it wasn't worth us coming here, except that it did move us a further hour and a half towards Calais, which is where we need to be by the end of the week.

Sunday 17 March - Chezelles

Where's Bertie? He's at a small Aire in the village of Chezelles, which sits between two rivers to the south of Châtellerault. Exact location: 46.76638, 0.51061.
Weather: Rainy start, then sunny intervals with the occasional shower. Getting increasingly breezy and relatively cool at a max of 10 degrees.

After yesterday morning's ParkRun at des Dougnes, followed by coffee with les runneurs, we headed north for a two hour drive to the house of a chap called Simon, an ex-colleague of Mick. The last they saw each other was 30 years ago and whilst social media may have its negative side, they would almost certainly never have met again if it hadn't been for Facebook.

A day of chatting, followed by an evening of being sociable with a whole room full of strangers at Simon's friend's birthday party, followed by a late night, saw us feeling a little on the tired side today.

Thus, on the one hand what I really wanted to do with today was to sit quietly and recharge; however, I also saw that we were about an hour away from Poitiers, and if there's a good day to park near to a city centre and have a good look around, then Sunday is it.

To Poitiers we therefore went, heading straight for the only car parking option that looked appealing for a potential night-stop. It was the furthest one away from our route in, and we got there to find it temporarily closed for construction works. We'd passed another couple of options on our way in, but aside from not really feeling inclined to backtrack, both looked busy and tight (probably because the big car park just up the road is currently out of action!), so we gave in to the laziness, drove straight on through to the other end of town and rejoined the D910 north.

Half an hour later, we were here in this small village and after contemplating the options over lunch, we decided to stay.

A little stroll has, of course, featured in an otherwise-quiet afternoon. There's an historic ruin visible from Bertie's side windows, so we headed over for a look, guessing from what we could see at a distance that it was an old abbey. We were close (not!): it's the remains of a Roman amphitheatre:

Friday 15 March - Cubnezais (France)

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire (with no services) in the small village of Cubnezais. Exact location: 45.07533, -0.40938.
Weather: Overcast with a few showers.

Having a few hours of driving ahead of us, plus the need for a few stops, we were on our way not long after 8 this morning, although our first leg wasn't far - to a couple of fuel stations before we left Spain. The first was at a supermarket for diesel, the second the adjacent Repsol for LPG, both of which fuels are significantly cheaper in Spain than France. The saving easily made up for the extra €1.34 we incurred by pulling off the toll motorway then rejoining it at the same junction.

A couple of hours later we got charged both on leaving and rejoining the toll motorway to nip to a Lidl to the east of Capbreton (France), but here the junction layout was such that in so doing we missed out the toll booths on the main carriageway, and I think the exit and entry charges between them added up to the same as the single charge had we gone through the main toll plaza.

Having had elevenses in Lidl's car park, we could possibly have made it through to our destination without stopping again, but that would have made for a late lunch, and we weren't in any rush, so into a nice wooded motorway rest area we pulled. Just before and just after that we tested my belief that one can avoid the tolls along this entire section of motorway by leaving at the junction before the toll plazas and rejoining at the junction after*, taking the road alongside the motorway between those two points. I was just as surprised that it worked this time as I was when a previous SatNav directed us to do that a few years ago. For a saving of €11 it was a worthwhile detour which probably added less than 10 minutes to our overall journey.

Our destination for the day was the car park for tomorrow's ParkRun at Les Dougnes (30km N of Bordeaux), and we duly positioned Bertie into the same spot as he has occupied the previous twice that we've done that run. We have never stayed there overnight before, for fear of it being the sort of location that one might get boy racers and ne'er-do-wells disturbing us into the night, but this time we thought we'd give it a go. It probably would have been fine, but having parked Bertie on top of what was clearly the location where a car had been burnt out, and having taken a walk that took us past another such site, a rethink was had. Whilst certain that car burning's are not a nightly occurence, why take the risk when we know there are official motorhome parking areas in nearby villages?

Our plan to go to our previous overnight spot in the village of Cavignac, but on spotting that Cubnezias was closer, we came here instead. We have rows of grapevines on two sides of this large car park and the village on the other two. We could have stayed at the free Aire (including electricity) at the vineyard that is about 300m in front of us, but I would have felt it rude to do that and not buy any wine. We're happy enough with the car park Aire, and instead we've spent our pennies in the local Boulangerie/Patisserie:

^{(*A63 J11-J12 and J17-J18. Except for those short sections, we took the motorway for the whole of today's journey at a total cost, including the extra charge for leaving/rejoining for fuel, of just over €17. A reasonable sum, we felt, as the free-roads route on this section takes a good couple of hours longer than the motorway.)}

Thursday 14 March - Tolosa

Where's Bertie? He's all alone at a 12-place Aire in the town of Tolosa in the Basque Country. It used to cost €1/24 hours to stay here, but is now free (including services). Exact location: 43.13394, -2.08394.
Weather: Glorious but cold start, but overcast by the time we arrived in Tolosa. Max temp today around 11 degrees.

I was on a mission today: to arrive at our destination early enough to go for a final Menu del Dia before we leave Spain tomorrow. That led to a bit of a rush this morning, as before we left Torquemada I/we needed to:
- wait until the heating had warmed Bertie enough for me to feel inclined to get out of bed (it got down to -1 outside last night, so it was a frosty start);
- go for a run;
- have a shower;
- have breakfast;
- find a suitable destination;
- empty and fill Bertie at the service point.

Glorious morning, but I ran along the narrow village streets before the sun had chance to make it over the buildings, so it was a bit nippy.

All things considered, we did well to get away at 10am. That left us no time for stops en-route, and it was around 1320 when we did a tour of the car parks here in Tolosa before finally finding the allocated motorhome parking in the least attractive spot, behind the car parks (we were misled at first by many motorhomes in the car parks, but it looks like they're locals' vans, using the free parking as storage).

View from Bertie's front bumper (across a couple of car parks containing lots of in-storage motorhomes). That's an impressive hill over there.

Donning warm jackets, we were soon on our way into town in search of an eatery. Given the time and my level of hunger, my tactic today was to eat at the first place we saw that had a Menu del Dia displayed outside (provided it contained something suitable for both of us).

First blackboard we saw. Yep, that'll do!

The bar didn't look too appealing as we entered, but we stuck with it and had an excellent lunch. In fact, there's not a single thing about either meal that we could fault.

Understanding none of the options reeled off to us, pudding was a pot luck affair. Mick caught the word 'chocolate' and we both went with it, landing ourselves incredibly rich chocolate fondant puddings. Yum!

As for the town, on the bits we saw, it looked a good place for a walk around and I would have done precisely that on another day (preferably one about 10 degrees warmer!), particularly as there are numbered information signs dotted around, suggesting there's a cultural tour route. However, today's only objective was that big lunch, so afterwards we were happy simply to waddle back to Bertie for a quiet rest of the day.

An attractive town, with avenues of trees to provide shade in summer

Wednesday 13 March - Torquemada

Where's Bertie? He's looking at the churchyard wall*, at an Aire in the village of Torquemada, just to the north of Palencia (not to be confused with Plasencia, where we were yesterday). Exact location: 42.03709, -4.31602.
Weather: Glorious start and finish, but a bit of high level cloud during the latter parts of the drive.

We've been blessed with a whole string of night stops that have been away from any significant road noise, but that run came to an end last night. I can't say it disturbed me as such, but when I did come to, I noticed it.

The other thing we noticed both last night and this morning were multiple tannoy announcements. I pictured one of those cars going around with speakers on the roof and wondered how important the message was. It was Mick who was observant and, on our way out for this morning's run, spotted that we were parked opposite the bus station.

Mick had a successful run. I didn't, abandoning after half a mile due to a painful cramplike pain in my hip. Hopefully just a spasm that won't recur. After grabbing a fleece and gloves, I made do with walking smaller circuits whilst Mick ran four laps of the perimeter of the park.

There then ensued a few hours of driving, broken only by a lunch break at a motorway service area. I should have taken the wheel after that break, but given the choice between driving or knitting, I chose the latter to pass the time, whilst Mick happily did chauffeuring duties.

Glorious sky, but snow on that there hill (we climbed quite a bit today, which combined with the headwind wasn't good for the fuel consumption stats).

Until about 20 minutes before arrival, when I reset the SatNav to Torquemada, Palencia had been our destination. We've been there twice before and, because it's a bit of a detour from the motorway, there was no time difference between going there or coming here, but here put us further north.

This afternoon's walk was based on recceing a running route for the morning (fingers crossed for that!), but it also served to give us a reasonably thorough tour of the village.

In the main, it's a tatty place with a semi-abandoned look to it. The street nearest to Bertie had us wondering about crime hereabouts, with just about every house having armour-cladding on their doors and windows:

These houses look to be in much better nick than most, so my guess is that the armour was applied when they were being renovated, then work ground to a halt and they've been left this way for protection against vandals/thieves/squatters.

The village centre, near to the main square, is perhaps a little better presented...

 ...but even there, it only takes an about turn to reveal some real quality construction:

Then the far end of town is an odd mix of run down and cheap-looking housing, right opposite a number of huge new(ish) builds.

What is easy on the eye is the historic bridge over the river and the adjacent mill(?):

 As for the weather/season, whilst our walk was undertaken entirely under blue skies, it is clear that somewhere along the way today we drove out of summer and into spring. It's no longer shorts-and-tshirt weather out there and the forecast says it's going to get down to 1 degree tonight.

^{(*We made like Goldilocks and tried three spaces, in various orientations, before we settled for the corner slot, nose-in. It means we haven't a view (not that there's much of one if we were facing the other way) but we're level.)}

Tuesday 12 March - Badajoz and Plasencia

Where's Bertie? He's in a large car park in Plasencia (not to be confused with Palencia, where we stayed on our way south). Exact location: 40.03180, -6.08011.
Weather:Gloriously sunny with just a few high-level whispy clouds around this afternoon. Topping out at 22 degrees.

I didn't have great expectations of the Museo de Bellas Artes de Badajoz (MUBA, as it's known) and thus thought that neither the art nor the city museum would hold us for long, and that we could fit them both into the morning with a coffee in between.

Ha! I should know better!

MUBA turned out to be fabulous. Thirty-two rooms of the work of Spanish artists, almost exclusively by names that were unknown to us (there was one piece by Picasso; I think the Morales collection is now in the city museum). Perhaps that's why I didn't expect much of the place, but the standard, subjects and curation were such that we were thoroughly diverted by what we saw. Moreover, this museum seems to have achieved something unique amongst the many galleries we have visited: lighting such that you don't have to dance around in front of each work trying to find the spot where your view isn't marred by reflection.

I admit that by the final half dozen rooms we were getting a bit arted-out, but at the same time, we didn't want to miss any of the permanent collection, so we pushed on through.

Coffee was next on the agenda...

 ...ordered with a side of toasted coissant and jam. It's hungry business this museum strolling!

By the time we were suitably refreshed we had to concede that we didn't have time to do justice to the City Museum. It's such a shame that we arrived in town on a Sunday, writing off two days from the point of view of museums, as there are at least two more I would have liked to have visited, but spread out at one per day to avoid culture-blindness. Perhaps we will have to return to Badajoz.

Back at Bertie, a quick lunch was accompanied by 1980s pop being played at volume from a nearby flat. I happened to be outside when YMCA came on, and who can possibly listen to that without joining in with the moves? (Everyone else at the Aire, apparently...)

An easy drive on nearly empty roads (including a motorway) brought us to Plasencia, which I'd chosen as our destination because: a) it was the right sort of distance away to knock an afternoon-drive-sized chunk off our journey north; and b) although it doesn't have an Aire, it has a large car park next to some parkland on an island on the river, which sounded nice enough.

I knew nothing else about the place when we arrived and a quick consultation of the guide book made the place sound even less alluring that Badajoz.

Art imitates Mick - seen on our walk into town

Having spied the sizeable cathedral on our drive in, after a cup of tea we wandered off into town for a closer look. Around it we found a whole cluster of old buildings, all displaying bi-lingual (Spanish and English) information signs outside.

The front of the cathedral, slighly bent out of shape so that I could fit its height (although not its width) into one photo

Narrow old-town streets took us from there to the Plaza Major, which wasn't overly impressive as main squares go.

We'd love to know what this one was about

Usually we arrive in a town in the late morning and find ourselves looking around during the afternoon closed period. Today it was gone 5pm when we left Bertie and thus we got to experience the place with people out and about - a pleasant change (even if it did make tea late tonight!).

The town gate by which we left. There's not much of the wall still in evidence.

Rather than walk back along the road we took to the parkland behind Bertie. It was, of course, full of people either exercising or just being out and about.

Good decoration of what must previously have been very ugly concrete stairwells that lead up to a bridge

We may have only wandered around for an hour and a half, but based on what we saw we are again of the opinion that the guidebook is a little harsh on the place.

Monday 11 March - Badajoz

Where's Bertie? He's still at the Aire in Badajoz.
Weather: Foggy start, but once the sun broke through around 10.30 a gloriously sunny day developed.

On Spanish time, and by our usual standards, it was a late night last night. On our body clock's time, it wasn't quite so late, but I didn't sleep particularly well and I belatedly realised as I headed out for a run this morning that I should have set the alarm for an hour later: I set out into the fog and an hour and three quarters (11 miles) later returned with that fog only just lifting. It was a bit nippy on the hands for the first couple of miles, and I had moisture beading on my eyelashes for the duration, but on the whole I was comfortable with bare legs and arms - as was Mick as he ran a shorter route. Others were out in big coats, scarves and ear muffs!

It may have been foggy and I may not have been able to see the river along which I ran, but it was one of those fabulous outings where both mind and body were completely on board with what I was doing.

A snap of the park, through which I ran at the start and end of my route, in better conditions later on

By the time I had breakfasted and showered, the day was marching on towards what we would usually call lunchtime. However, our bodies are still on Portuguese time and Spain eats late, so I figured we had enough time to throw the stinky running kit into a bag (making it up to a full load with everything else that even vaguely needed a wash) and headed over to a laundrette just on the other side of the river.

I'm not short, so I have to conclude that the designer of this laundrette didn't really think this through.

It was 2pm by the time the laundry was dumped unceremoniously back in Bertie and we were heading once more across the bridge into town. A bit of a recce of menus had been carried out whilst the laundry was doing its thing, so we knew where we were headed. Oh, it is a happy thing to be back in the land of the Menu del Dia:

€10 per head, including bread, two courses, drinks and pudding

And that, pretty much, was our day! After all that food I felt no inclination to do anything else active, so back to Bertie we came. As I type this it's 1930 (gosh, the day's gone so quickly!), the sun is setting and, proving that it's not just a weekend thing, the park is full of active people and families.

Sunday 10 March - Badajoz (Spain)

Where's Bertie He's at an Aire in Badajoz. It's free to stay here, with free services. Exact location: 38.88461, -6.97808.
Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine and very nicely warm.

An early start was had, not by choice but thanks to our neighbour whose vehicle had, from what we could hear, a dozen sliding cargo doors, all of which needed testing at 0630. It could have been the one door (about four feet from our heads) that he opened and closed a dozen times, but why would there ever be the need to do that at that hour?!

At just gone 8 we were at an Intermarche 20km away, discovering that the washing facilities I'd read about were of the vehicle, not the laundry, variety. No matter; breakfast in Lidl's car park saw us through to opening time and our food shortage was resolved.

The food shortage is what caused us also to put a gallon and a half of diesel into Bertie. Had we stuck with Plan A we would have driven east from Monsaraz, crossed the border into Spain after a few kilometres, bought cheaper diesel there and thus have achieved our entire visit to Portugal on one tank of fuel. However, I'd seriously misjudged the groceries (no bread, cake, chocolate, biscuits or fruit left and very little veg) and if we'd headed into Spain the shops would have been shut, whereas supermarkets in Portugal keep the same hours on a Sunday as the rest of the week. Travelling through Portugal to Badajoz was (give or take 5km) the same distance as travelling through Spain, so the via-a-shop reroute made sense.

The next change of plan came with regard to our night stop, as we were no longer going to be passing our intended destination. Moreover, I looked at the piece of paper on which I'd scribbled dates last week and realised that on our schedule to reach Bordeaux on Friday, we were supposed to be in Badajoz tonight, not tomorrow, so here we came, crossing the border just east of the fortified town of Elvas, which we were able happily to bypass, having visited before.

What a difference when we crossed the border! One of the things I like about Spain is that almost everywhere you go there are people of all ages (families, groups, individuals) out exercising. People don't just walk around to get from A to B, but there's very much a culture of moving around. I'd almost managed to convince myself in Portugal (where we didn't witness anything like the same thing) that my mind had exaggerated what Spain was like. Then we crossed the border and within minutes the walkway at the side of the road was teeming with people on this sunny Sunday.

I'm now going to go off at a bit of a tangent (it is relevant, I promise!):

In the summer of 2014 Mick was away working and I was temporarily living in a house I was renovating. My furniture was an airbed and a folding chair and my entertainment (besides the hard manual labour) was a radio, a laptop and some books. Doing some internet browsing one evening I came across a motorhome blog: http://ourtour.co.uk, about the travels of a couple called Jason and Julie. For the rest of my time at that house my break time reading saw me catch up on their travels to that point and I've followed them ever since. It is, without a doubt, the best motorhome travel blog I've found.

On Friday I saw that they were in Badajoz and commented that it was the closest we'd come to date to not quite meeting them, as it seemed likely they would have moved on by the time we arrived.

Our first focus on pulling into the Aire was whether there was a slot available (it's been expanded since we were last here, but has also become much more popular now it's made its way into all of the 'places to stay' databases), and it was with relief that we saw there was a single space free. On our way to it we clocked Jason and Julie's van.

We wasted no time in introducing ourselves and enjoyable chunks of the afternoon and evening was spent chatting. They are every bit as nice as they seem on their blog and are very easy company, so it was lovely to finally meet them.

The chatting wasn't at the expense of sight-seeing. Off into the town Mick & I headed for a little look around. Last time we were here it was just an in-transit night stop and whilst Mick took a run around the riverside park (an exellent leisure facility) before we left, I took a half hour walk around the still-sleeping town. The purpose of this return visit was to see the place properly.

With the museums being closed by the time we were heading into town, we settled on a visit to the always-open castle. What good value that is (free), with the walk around the walls being broken up with regular tri-lingual information signs, even more of which are to be found in the interior.

Just based on that experience, plus a little wander through the town, plus knowing how good the riverside parkland is, we completely disagree with the poor write-up given to the place in our guidebook.

We now have a bit of a quandary. Tomorrow is Monday, when the museums are closed, and there's at least one of them that we would like to visit. If we stay an extra night, then we have to skip Merida which was also on my list for a visit on our way north. I think the decision is that, on the basis that we will pass Merida when driving south in the future, but won't necessarily find ourselves in Badajoz again, we will stay here longer than intended.

Snaps of the day:

No carrier bags needed for a shopping trip in Bertie - put groceries through till - put back in trolley - wheel trolley to Bertie's door - lay groceries out on worksurface - put away in cupboards/fridge:

View from Bertie into the park. Just look at all of those people out and about - and this wasn't at the busiest time of day:

Bertie's down there:

From the pedestrian bridge looking towards the castle:

Sculpture of the day:

One of the information signs on the castle walls and, in the background, the fort from which the British Army launched its successful attack on Badajoz in 1812 during the Peninsula War (or, to us, the Napoleonic Wars) - not something detailed in the signs, but known to Mick from reading Bernard Cornwell's Sharpe novels.

Saturday 9 March - Monsaraz

Where's Bertie? He's still providing us with stupendous views at the Aire at Monsaraz.

Weather: Wall-to-wall sunshine.

In looking at potential running and walking routes last night, we discovered some Strava segments* nearby, including one just shy of 1 mile with 350' of ascent, ending just a few hundred metres away from Bertie. With the women's record standing at 21:22, how could I resist abandoning another rest day in favour of becoming the record holder on a segment?

I would likely have just run down the hill and back up again, but Mick's vote was for the other option I'd put to him: a descent to the east, looping around the Monsaraz hill to the north, then finishing with the segment which climbs back up the hill from the west. It was a very lovely route and even though I didn't manage to tackle the entire hill at a run (Mick did, mind) I still took the record by over 10 minutes.

Cloud hanging over the water first thing

A hot air balloon over the plain

Even though I was targetting the segment, I still paused for a snap part way up the hill. That's Mick ahead of me.

Running down steep sections of this is not a quick or pleasant experience!

Sometime between finishing our run and heading out for a walk this afternoon, I misplaced Mick for an hour or so. It happens occasionally. This time he'd noticed that the van about five along from us was the same one we'd parked next to in Ameixial a few weeks ago (small world that it is), and thus he'd got chatting on varying subjects from motorhome automatic levelling systems to (of course) Brexit.

Our afternoon outing was back down the east side of the hill, this time branching off to the right (this morning we went left) to visit a stone circle. Except it's not a circle, it's a rectangle. And, according to the information I read on line, this wasn't it's original site - it was relocated here due to the flooding of the reservoir. In the absence of any information signs, it was about as exciting as I expected a set of standing stones to be, but it was a pleasant stroll to get there and back. 

Being Saturday, the village is much busier with visitors today and late this afternoon we joined them, although only so that we could sit in the square and avail ourselves of the free wifi for a short while. It was a pleasant interlude into our afternoon, with not just a bit of people-watching, but some good entertainment in the form of a male voice choir performing at a restaurant just out of sight, but well within earshot. 

(*Strava: an exercise logging App. A Strava Segment: anyone can nominate part of a route they've logged on Strava as a segment. A league table is then formed of everyone who has covered that segment via the same activity (walking, cycling, running), and thus, just for a bit of fun/motivation, one can compete with complete strangers from all around the world.) 

Friday 8 March - Monsaraz

Where's Bertie? He's at an Aire perched on the second tier of the town walls at Monsaraz. What the Aire lacks in services (none here, but there's a service point a couple of km away) it makes up for in views. Exact location: 38.44253, -7.37984.

Weather: Foggy start soon clearing to give a mainly sunny day.

As I ran through the fog this morning I wondered whether it was a common weather phenomenon before the reservoir was created. As I dodged the slugs that littered the road I also had to wonder whether their population was so strong before a permanent means of irrigation was created. That led me to wonder quite how much such a large body of water and less arid surroundings have altered the climate in these parts. I don't have answers to any of those wonderings.

Later in the day I did discover the answer to a question that had been in my mind for the last few days: how long did it take for the reservoir to fill? We knew that the flood gates were opened on 8 February 2002, that the village of Luz was relocated soon afterwards, but that the old village wasn't demolished until 2003. Today I found a timeline that not only told me that the fill-time was 7 years and 11 months, but also gave me other interesting history - like work towards creating this massive body of water initially started in 1957. Groundworks started in 1976, but were suspended in 1978, not to recommence until the mid-1990s. The project wasn't declared complete until the final 30,000 hectares of irrigation became operational in 2015. 

In between these pondering and learning episodes, we relocated ourselves by 25km, crossing the water (via a bridge) in the process. The Aire here at Monsaraz has good reviews for its outstanding views, but even so, I didn't expect it to be as good as this. Not only does Bertie have this view from his windscreen...

On the small screen of my phone that photo doesn't even start to do justice to what we can see before us.

...but just a couple of minute's walk behind him (and up a bit) is the historic fortified hill-top village.

It's not a big place, but being relatively quiet at this time of year (based on the amount of parking available, I'm guessing it's a signifiant tourist destination in summer) it was a remarkably pleasant walk around its streets and the remains of the castle walls/towers. We've been to plenty of medieval villages in France and Spain and a fair smattering of fortified places too, but this has got to be the best. I can't think of anywhere else with views to rival here.

We were on our way back to Bertie from our wanderings when we spotted the museum, although it was closed for lunch at the time. I Googled it this afternoon and a few minutes later we were on our way back up for a visit. We only had an hour and a half before closing, but reviews said that it was tiny, so I figured that was plenty long enough. 

The entry fee was only €1, which would have felt about right for such a small place, the main purpose of which is to show a 15th century fresco (which turned out to be smaller than I'd expected). There were also information panels about the castle and a few other bits and pieces. What we hadn't expected was that the €1 fee also included entry to the 'House of Inquisitions' at the other end of the village, so once we'd done with the museum (less than half an hour), we hot-footed it over there. 

It was another very small museum, formed almost entirely from picture/information panels on the walls, but I now have a basic knowledge of the Inquisition in Monsaraz (imagine being sentenced of a crime on the evidence that you swept your house from front to back!). 

When we travelled down through Spain back in January, we contemplated entering Portugal at Badajoz and making Monsaraz our first stop, but ultimately decided to continue down through Spain and enter via the most southerly access point. I'm now glad we did that. I wasn't bowled over by the Algarve in any case, but I think that having been somewhere as good as this as our first stop would have set unreasonably high expectations for the rest of the country.

On to photos:

Looking up at the village from the tier below Bertie (Bertie is below the left side of the big white building):

Looking towards the castle from Bertie's back bumper:

Looking over the Aire to the reservoir:

The main square:

Looking over the curtain wall on the other side of the village, where the outlook is green pasture and fruit/nut-tree plantations:

Looking over the town from one of the castle's semi-ruined towers:

By appearances, a bull-ring within the castle:

Finally, another snap from Bertie's front bumper, which (again) doesn't do justice to the view:

(Today's aside: After weeks of barely seeing a Brit, today we find ourselves surrounded by them (well, except for our immediate neighbour who is Dutch). I think that usually the main migration back to the UK would happen during the second part of March and through April. This year, the majority of people we've spoken to have decided to head back to the UK before Brexit, thus concentrating the migration into a much shorter window.)