Our first holiday in France

Its May 1993 (give or take a year) me and my OH had booked our holiday to the hot South of France in our Conway Trailer Tent, heading to Newhaven for our ferry departure in mid-June. We‘d booked this through Eurocamp Independent. We decided on this holiday, as the year before we had gone to a very rainy and midge filled holiday to Scotland and I threatened my OH we’re off to sunny South of France next year.

 A couple of days before we were due to drive down to Newhaven, it was announced on the news that the French lorry drivers were up in arms about something or nothing, and begun blockading the motorways. By the time we were due to drive down, there was nothing moving, no petrol, no nothing. Nothing was moving out of the French Ports as they were connected to the motorways. I rang the holiday insurance company, whether we could cancel and go, say, in a few weeks time. They said no, and that the only way to claim was to drive down and get snarled up in everything.

 On the day of departure, we drove down to Newhaven, and got on the ferry. We arrived in Dieppe at about midnight, and started driving. However, whilst on the ferry, I suggested to my OH that we could call in at the first campsite we came to, and state to the insurance company that we couldn’t go any further. By this time the vehicles that were stuck on the motorways were getting their rations from the Red Cross or possibly, and more probable, the people from local villages had gone out to help them.

 Anyway, when we did arrive at Dieppe, we realised that it was one of the few ports not connected to a motorway network, so we decided to keep driving and just see how far we could get - our first stop was in the Burgundy area . Remember, we were driving on the N roads, not motorways. We did cross bridges that spanned the motorways, and the motorways were blocked up. Anyway, we arrived at our campsite at Troyes at about 09:00 in the morning - by this time, we were knackered to say the least.

 We stayed there for two days - and there was no let up of the strike, and we needed to fill up with petrol if we were going to get to Castellane in the South of France. We asked the campsite reception, and they told us where to go for some. We drove there, and yes, they had petrol (whewJ ). What we didn’t realise was that unleaded petrol was in plentiful supply (our car was not diesel). It was diesel that was in short supply. Anyway, we filled up, and we started driving - still on the main N roads - oh, I forgot, it had been non stop raining up to this pointL , but no midgesJ

 We arrived at someplace that had hillsides right up to the road on our right side, and a steep drop on our left, with villages every so far. We were driving along, and in the distance - the road was curvy and you could see across into the distance - there was lorries blocking the main road, in front of one of these villages. When we arrived on the outskirts, the villages were out and waving the traffic through their village, down narrow streets, and back on to the main road, by-passing the blockadeJ

 At about 2:00pm we stopped for a picnic (the sun was showing us one of its rare faces). After that, we started driving, and was entering the mountainous area. By this time, we could have done with a fill up at a petrol station, but all that we passed were closed (Ferme), no petrol. Then we passed one that was open, but the line of cars queuing up was horrendous. In fact, we witnessed two men actually having fisticuffs. We travelled on for a further five miles, and came upon a petrol station that was open, had fuel and no queues - hooray!!!!!).

 Approaching the Provence region, at about 6:00 in the evening, the weather was warmer, but cloudy, there were no street lights, and going past overhanging rocks and round massive boulders, big drop offs but thankfully, there were guard rails to stop you going over and down the side of a mountain, and by about 9:00pm we could see Castellane down in the valley and our campsite, Domaine du Verdon.

 At 9:45pm, we arrived. It was close to dark by this time. We drove in and entered the bar as the reception was shut. We explained why we were late, and they were so very understanding. And told us which pitch to use. We found the pitch, but we couldn’t use it as the last people who had driven off must have slithered about, as there was very, very deep tyre treads - oh, by the way, at this point, me and my OH were contemplating divorce proceedings, we were completely losing it - but I tried to keep a brave smile on my face and told him it couldn’t get any worse.

 So I went back to the bar (if I’d sent my OH, he could have been locked up for murder). I explained to the owner about the pitch. He apologised very strongly and came himself to see (at which we were on torches as it was completely pitch black). He took us to the edge of the site, and said that that part of the campsite got the sun all day, and we could have any pitch there. Apparently, they weren’t busy because of the strike.

 So we unhitched, and just put the cab part up. We couldn’t do anymore as 1) it was totally dark and 2) we were totally knackered after over 12 hours of driving.

 We spent 10 days on the site, visiting the statue of the Virgin Mary on the rock - the pathway starts at the rear of the church. My hubby was grumpy all this time and I was trying to keep the peace, and trying to help by letting him relax. We visited Nice - lovely place. I said to my hubby that I’ve always wanted to go into one of the cafes along the front and have a lovely coffee, expecting to pay over £5.00 per cup. We were surprised that it wasn’t at all near that price, in fact, it was about the same price as anywhere else in France we’d been to - about £1.50 per cup.

 On about our 5^th day, the French strike was over and the site started to fill up (it was only half full before then). We met up with a Danish couple who invited us into their caravan and offered us a drink, beer, whisky or whatever, I had a beer and hubby had a whiskey, with ice. This was new to us.

 The day before we were due to depart, we took down the awning, and lifted up the groundsheet (thankfully, not the breathable types). The mud was awful and stank. We carried it over to the area where the motor homes filled up and used the hose to wash the bottom of the groundsheet - the mud was an awful grey colour, couldn’t really describe it. In fact it took three attempts to scrub it, and the mud stains never came off. OH was really in a snitch by this time, and I was beginning to lose it because of him.

 Anyway, we left the following day and had a nice drive up north, stopping at Lyon and then Reims before arriving at La Bien-Assise at Calais. We were there for three days. On one of these days, we decided to order a picnic from the shop the evening before. We collected it at 8:30am and drove off to visit some of the cemeteries in Belgium. We stopped off in a lay-by, way off the beaten track, nice and quiet. I got the salad out with the French bagette and found I’d forgotten the plates. OH went mad - actually a bit over the top. And I saw a red haze come over me. And I completely lost it with him - suffice to say I through the knife I was holding in the back seat - I would have used it at this point, and instead got hold of the bagette and squeezed the life out of it - in fact, by the time I’d finished my rant at him, there was nothing in the car but crumbs. After that little scene, my hubby was really nice and made up for his grumpiness for the last two days.

 On our last day, we visited Boulogne and went for a coffee in the old town. We were sat next to some English teachers who apparently were there for a day trip with their respective classes, where said classes were, we couldn‘t guess. We got our coffee, got the bill and found the price to be twice that of the coffees in Nice. I told Tom, and sorry to say, the teachers overheard me, stating how expensive the coffee was - the French here know how to over price the Brits.

 We’ve been camping and then caravanning since 1985 and have always enjoyed it, and out of all our camping holidays, this holiday will always stay with us. In fact, we talk about this holiday more, as when we look back, we have a right belly laugh.