Month: July 2017

As mentioned in the previous blog entry the Dolomites are steep pale coloured cliffs that jut roughly and jaggedly up into the atmosphere, making a most dramatic skyline indeed. There were many, many instances of us stopping at any possible pull-off point to direct cameras at the view. In fact many of those pull-off points were merely metres apart. Different angles and varying gaps in the trees gave wildly different views.

The incredibly pointed peaks looked as though they were only made yesterday, with very little erosion evident, certainly there was no rounding of the ridge lines. As we commented previously the shaley scree slopes were absent, but there were a few ‘rivers’ of dust that seemed to flow down from the heights. Obviously these were the result of the grinding effect that the winter’s heavy coating of ice has on the hard rock faces.

Needless to say the sights were absolutely breath taking, with a great deal of exclamations and pleasurable noises coming from both of us as we negotiated the skinniest, windiest, most outrageous roads imaginable. Georgie did a great job of locating those fabulous and just a tiny bit treacherous trails again. Quite heart-stopping at times, but heaps of fun.

Until: the plurry computer karked it again. On a steep hill, as we wound around hairpin bends. Again! An internet search on Georgie’s phone revealed that this is a fairly common complaint for Fiat Ducato motorhomes, apparently the electronic device that operates the throttle cuts out on other people’s machines too. Luckily for us the ‘old turn it off and wait a bit before turning it back on trick’ worked for us again. But not until we’d blocked the road for a few minutes. Sheesh!

Anyhow, we were determined to not allow a stoopid ‘poota to ruin those magnificent views for us, and we soldiered on, only a little shook up by our second hire vehicle’s unreliability. We stayed the evening atop a high mountain pass and watched the Sun set behind those impossibly pointy peaks. Rod enjoyed a lovely early morning walk through the high mountain tops, but by 7:30 am there were lots of other people out walking too, making things a little too crowded for that little black duck, so he headed back to the vehicle to bang together a cold bowl of weetbix for himself and a hot cuppa for Georgie.

Nordic walking is a real ‘thing’ here in Europe. People striding along with a stick in each hand, clack clack clacking up the roads and trails. Apparently it’s very good exercise, even if it is a tad noisy. And then there are the people who have wheels on their skis who use the sticks to ‘ski’ up the winding mountain roads. Healthy young people are everywhere, mountain bicyclists are elevated to positions of heroes, with plaques and statues abounding that celebrate various cyclists’ achievements. So many people walk the mountain trails, and I’m sure the place must be thick with humans during the snow season. Being fit and energetic is something lots of people do here.

From our campsite in Austria we could see some amazing craggy mountains in the distance, away down the end of the enormous valley. (Everything is enormous in the Alps region.) A quick search, courtesy of the campsite’s wifi, revealed that they were indeed the Dolomites that Rod seemed to think they might have been.

So we drove on through the neat and ordered Austrian townships toward those towering lumps of bare rock that jutted rudely up from the valley floor. The Dolomites lacked the crumbling shale scree slopes that were so common through much of the Alps that we had encountered to that point, they were sheer and bare rock that the trees could barely gain a toe-hold in. Considering the name of them, we figured they were mostly forms of limestone and marble (which is, after all, simply metamorphosed limestone) which is not prone to crumbling and forming scree slopes. The huge cliffs that reared skywards shone an amazing pale cream colour, with plenty of cracks, caves and crevices giving them a varied and interesting texture.

Once again, Georgie the amazing navigatrix, found us some incredibly twisty roads that wound their way up into the heights of these astounding monoliths. We kept shifting our path as she located yet more convoluted trails full of hairpin bends and switch backs.

Eventually we found ourselves negotiating an almost impossibly narrow (for Ebenezer) and meandering mountain trail that took us ‘way up into the incredible heights of an off-season ski area that only motor bikes, healthy cyclists and other loonies dared to venture into. We tested Ebenezer’s abilities to the point where we needed to make three point turns just to get around corners. Finally, thwarted by a tunnel that was 50cm too short for our gallant motorhome to squeeze through, we had to turn around and attempt to go back the convoluted way that we had come.

At this point Ebenezer’s on-board computer went on strike and the whole vehicle shut down on a hair-pin bend, blocking the narrow road. Uh oh. Who ever thought of putting plurry computers in control of vehicles in the first place? What a stupid idea!

OK, well the golden rule with stoopid ‘pootas is that when they have a conniption turn them off, walk away for a bit, then come back (after fuming for a little while) and turn them back on again. At this point Georgie logically got out and walked off to the side, smart lady that she is.

The upshot of it all is that Ebenezer decided to start working again and we very slowly made our way back down the mountain in search of a quiet and level camp site. Another exciting adventure indeed to add to our list.

 

Cruising in Ebenezer Mk II we decided to meander South, vaguely in the direction of Italy and to investigate the Italian section of the Alps. The Dolomites sounded like a grand idea, so that became what we tentatively called ‘our plan’. Of course it didn’t take much encouragement from roadside info boards (written in a language we didn’t understand) to cause us to veer off and explore a wobbly-looking road that ‘probably’ went up a mountain.

Well it did, a skinny road up a steep mountain’s edge to heights of just under 3 km above sea level. We were a bit shocked that we were scalped 35 Euros for the privilege at a toll gate (having not had to pay for mountain passes before) but the views were well worth it. The Grossglockner High Alpine Road took us to view Austria’s highest peak. We stood there shivering in a snow fall with temperatures of 3.1 degrees waiting for the clouds to part so we could get momentary glimpses of that amazing lump of sharp and frozen rock. It was undeniably beautiful despite the extreme physical discomfort of temperatures below a properly civilised 30 degrees Celsius.

Georgie posed the question why we seem so in awe of bits of white stuff on a mountain peak, to which Rod had no reasonable reply, but we both agreed that it was still bloody awesome despite the irrationality of it.

We will continue our journey to Italy and finally get to see those bits of France we missed before, but don’t be surprised if we get side tracked again.

Before leaving the glorious escarpments of Switzerland we turned off up a sharp valley to investigate the very famous Matterhorn, the mountain that we have heard so much about. Unfortunately it seems that everyone else in the world has also heard so much about the Matterhorn, and now it has become a very popular destination. The road up the mountain side was blocked to the average Joe Blow, and everyone was shepherded onto trains that would take them en-masse to the tourist traps up there. Having been caught up in human swarms previously we declined to join the herd and instead turned around and moved off to further fields. There were plenty more pretty mountains to see.

At a tiny alpine village we stopped at the STOP sign on the French border and dutifully waited for the border guard to come out, but after realising that no-one was actually there we pushed on. We slowly meandered through the (slightly less well maintained than Switzerland’s*) twisty mountain roads, with tall forested mountains reaching up to incredible heights around us and bubbling streams roaring down the deep gullies beside us. We never did quite work out the cause of the slightly milky colour of the glacial meltwater, but otherwise it seemed clean enough.

* Switzerland is a very affluent country. Everybody there must have good wages and pay very high taxes because roads and buildings are in such good nick, and everything is so plurry expensive! You don’t buy petrol there, that’s for sure, the price goes up by 50c a litre immediately over the border! Plus the shops charge like wounded water buffaloes.

We wound our way along a zig-zagging path toward Mont Blanc, the highest peak in all the Alps. There enormous craggy glaciers reached incredible distances down the sides of that impressive monolith and had our jaws dropping in awe. Everything was on such a grand scale. The gob-smacking size of the mountains, the expansive blankets of snow, the long stretching and slowly sliding glaciers that carve their way down the sides of those incredible peaks. It was an unforgettable experience.

Ski lifts took walkers up into the high reaches, and healthy looking young people with hiking boots and back packs were everywhere. Because we had to empty Ebenezer’s almost overflowing on-board dunny into a proper receptacle and top up his almost empty water tank, we stayed in a camp ground where they did not have toilet seats but expected you to perch on the freezing porcelain! Crikey! Otherwise it was an OK place to camp and wash clothes, plus it was surrounded by very impressive mountains.

At this point we had to head toward civilisation to find a mechanic to cure Ebenezer’s progressively worsening clutch problem. We had so far managed to negotiate some pretty amazing steep mountain passes with only a little bit of clutch slippage, but we figured we shouldn’t push our luck too far. In the big city of Lyon we sat on a Ford dealer’s chairs nearly all day anxiously waiting on news about a) who would fix our vehicle, and b) the replacement hire car and accommodation. It turns out that France shuts down for all of August and no-one could repair Ebenezer until September! Whaaaat!?! Then Ford France told us they would only lend us a hire car for four days, which was totally useless, so, as the afternoon wore on and out of sheer frustration, we finally jumped back into our motorhome and carefully limped off towards Germany. We were off to Munich where we had managed to convince the original hire mob to give us a replacement vehicle for Ebenezer.

This did take us out our way a bit (we had originally intended to move on to central France then the Riviera) and used up a few valuable days of our paid vehicle hire back-tracking toward Germany, but we really didn’t have much choice. Ya gotta do wotcha gotta do.

But we made the best of it and mostly stuck to country roads, bush camping alongside the lovely Loire River and in the forested mountains somewhere, listening to the plinky plonky of the cow bells in the valley below. We got to see pretty country that we would have otherwise missed.

As we neared Munich there was a bit of crazy autobahn flying (we had Ebenezer cruising at 130 kph and overtaking cars were zooming past us) which was a bit stressful, but we got there.

Having arrived in the outskirts of that big city we stayed in a fully automated camp ground in order that we empty the on-board dunny and charge up our devices. Cool but weird, you might think, no humans to deal with. Trouble is, when something doesn’t work there is no human to fix it, you just lose all the money you put in the slot. Kicking a robot may give a small amount of satisfaction, but you have still done your dough.

One grand thing about Germany that really impressed Rod is that you can buy good quality beer in 500 mL bottles for only 1 Euro. Coooool!

Ebenezer’s replacement (Ebenezer Mk II) is very similar to the original, but not a Ford with the big motor and diesel guzzling turbo charger that the yanks love so much. It is a Fiat called a Ducato (!!!!! gotta love that!) with a smaller motor but lots of slightly better aspects. The front seats pivot around to make armchairs at the dining table, which is much roomier than Ebenezer Mk I. We are happy with our new motorhome.

Our first night in it was spent up in the German Alps somewhere on a rainy wet night. As we drove through the deep ravines and forest clad rock faces we realised that we were missing out on more spectacular scenery because of the mist and rain. We found a forestry trail and followed it up into a deep valley until we found a relatively level spot to set up camp, to await the next day and hopefully clearer conditions. We were well and truly settled in when at 11 pm a forestry grader drove up and turned around in front of us, twice. We figured he was taking advantage of the overnight ceased rain to grade the road that we were parked next to in preparation for tree lopping in the morning. So at sparrows fart Rod slowly drove Ebenezer Mk II down the valley to find another pozzie away from the forestry activities and allow Georgie to finish her morning kip.

Well, we thought the Austrian Alps were spectacular, but that was before we moved westward into Switzerland. Now, oh my goodness gracious, we have even bigger, steeper, snowier and even more dramatic mountains!

The Swiss Alps are fantastic. Georgie, with her amazing navigatrix skills has directed Ebenezer into even more twisty and turny and unbelievably spectacular roads, with tunnels and switch-backs and incredible precipices and really narrow sections that get the heart thumping. Talk about FUN!

Whilst sucking on real Swiss chocolate we drove up amongst the glaciers and misty mountain tops. We drove so high that the chips, muesli and dried fruit packets inflated to almost bursting with the low pressure. As we write this we are three kilometres above sea level and looking out over unbelievably deep and gorgeous valleys. There are glaciers above and below us that occasionally peek out of the clouds and shine silver white in the slowly setting sunlight.

At lunch time on the first day, even though we were perched well above the snowline, the temperatures were high enough to sit outside on camp chairs with nowt but Tshirts protecting our torsos whilst we ate our sandwiches. Quite remarkable really. It is no wonder the waterfalls below the snow and ice were roaring to such an extent, considering those very warm conditions. I must say it was not unpleasant for a couple of soft Aussies from the tropics.

The next day, Rod’s early morning walk above the tree line was an absolute delight, despite the biting cold. He realised just how the lack of oxygen at high altitudes can affect the metabolism when trying to scramble up steep spongy soggy escarpments with loose lichen and moss coated rocks to extreme heights. It kinda makes you dizzy and gurgles the guts a bit. Nevertheless the enormous views and the weird and wonderful wild flowers made it all worthwhile. Those high altitude wild flowers had some very unusual forms, and they were all madly taking advantage of the lack of snow cover to go through the whole reproductive cycle as quickly as they could. Everything was out and blooming all at once. Quite a delight really.

The twisty mountain roads through the Alps are a motorcyclist’s heaven, and there were plenty of wonderful bikes out there taking advantage of it. Once again, this pleased Rod no end, but, there were numerous jealous sighs emitted by him as gorgeous classy cycles roared past, hanging low around the tight corners and powering then braking hard along the short straights. He misses his Ducati…

As we drove up and over one tall steep narrow and winding mountain pass, the very same one that was used in James Bond’s ‘Goldfinger’ for a car chase, the sky turned an ominous dark blue-grey. This added even more to the fantastic views, creating a wonderfully dramatic quality to the already breath-taking scenery. Then the lightning and thunder began, prompting us to feel a little worried for the super healthy bicyclists rolling down the road. And then big drops splattered on the windscreen, water mixed with snow! We were driving through sleet! We slowed down even more than before as the sleet turned to hail, until we found a suitable place to pull off and set up camp for the night.

The next early morning walk of Rod’s had him following an ancient trail around the ice-caked mountain and through age-old tunnels carved into the rock. He became very excited when he spotted a large rodent-like creature scurrying up the hillside. We think it was an alpine marmot. Later, Georgie spotted one too.

We now have a new favourite place on the planet.

The European Alps are amazing. Steep rocky mountains fractured and sheared over the millennia by uncountable frozen winters, with stark precipices jutting impossibly skyward. Rivers of rock shards ‘flowing’ down their faces as the scree slopes are renewed regularly with snow and ice prising the rocks apart.

But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. First came the fairytale castle. What a gorgeous structure it was, in a stunning setting to boot! The only thing that spoiled it for us was the crush of humanity, all those other people who had the same idea as us to visit a Disney-esque castle in a drop-dead gorgeous setting. Crowds, shoulder to shoulder, shuffling in queues, selfie-sticks, hemmed in, just too busy. Yes it was stunning, but boy we were glad to get out of there.

Anyhow, back to the Alps. Back to beauty unbound, to nature at its most spectacular, to extremes in temperature and magnitude.

We entered the Austrian Alps and meandered around random roads not really knowing (or caring) where exactly we were going, as long as the scenery was suitably jaw-dropping. And there was no shortage of unbelievably spectacular views to please us and send us off on unpredictably narrow roads. Luckily Ebeneezer is not too wide and we were able to squeeze our way up some pretty spectacular winding trails. The Austrians make some incredible roads into almost impossible places, and we took advantage of plenty of them.

There were amazing numbers of motorcycles on these winding mountain trails too, heaps of fabulous BMWs, Ducatis, Husqvanas and everything you can imagine, all enjoying the fantastic road surface, corners and scenery. All those classy bikes sure made Rod grin broadly.

The views were spectacularly expansive, huge vistas with high rocky peaks with remnant snow and glaciers and thick forests. Deep rocky gorges with riotous foaming rivers roaring over boulders and tumbling down escarpments. The forests were predominantly made of pines, of quite a few varieties, but there were thick patches of lush broad-leafed trees as well.

Beneath the trees, on the forest floor, wildflowers grew in profusion. Growing out of the ever-present thick mossy ground cover was an amazing diversity of different herbs that were desperately trying to reproduce before their world became frozen again. Reds, blues, whites, pinks, purples and yellows were splashed everywhere, fuzzy bumble bees and local honey bees feasting madly. We tasted wild strawberries and wild raspberries from these gorgeous wet bushlands. The stinging nettles were absent from these high mountain forests, unlike every other part of Europe where they are the most common form of herbage to be seen.

The size and grandeur of the Alps are impossible to translate into words and pictures. They are incredible.

The hills were alive with the sounds of our wonder and amazement (“Oh my goodness gracious me! Look at that!”). There is no doubt that we absolutely adored those huge and awe-inspiring vistas, and we now have a new favourite place on Earth.

Here are some photos of the fabulous Heidelberg palace:

Getting used to the weird configuration of a left hand drive vehicle is tricky. The gear lever is now at the right hand but the clutch remains operated by the left foot. Always looking to your left first and driving on the right takes intense concentration to perfect. Roundabouts are surprisingly easy, but pulling out onto an empty road requires thought and self-correction.

But we’re gettin’ there, we managed to move away from the city and into the country side, turned off the autobahn and followed a big river until we found a narrow twisty mountain road to investigate that had a well preserved castle at the end, overlooking the river valley. Delightful views with ancient architecture.

This vehicle, which looks small compared to other motor homes that we have seen on the road, feels actually quite wide to drive, a bit like a bus, although its relatively short wheel base allows it to be manoeuvrable enough. We didn’t want to be restricted too much, so Dexter will do us just fine. We needed the width for comfortable sleeping.

Getting all our mountains of luggage into the myriad little cupboards and shelves is still an ongoing job of re-shuffling and re-sorting. Working out which items need to be accessed quicker and more often and which can be buried beneath other layers is a science that we are still in the process of perfecting.

Having a dunny and shower on board is a luxury that we probably won’t be using too much because you need to empty the waste water safely into approved places, but it’s good to have it there as a back up nevertheless. There may not be lions to negotiate on the long trot to the night toilet, but the chill of Europe is quite crispy after dark.

We have made a few minor modifications (removed the squishy dining table in favour of using the outdoor one under the wind-out awning) and adjusted the bicycle rack more to Rod’s satisfaction, but basically Dexter was ready to go when we picked him up. The machine is still fairly new and we are only its third hire, but by far the longest. Ten weeks for goodness’ sake.

On our third day in the motorhome we decided to retrace our steps a little bit and go back to Heidelburg to visit the palace. Now being fairly confident behind the wheel we even went into the guts of the city to find a laundromat. The Schloss (palace ruins) was a gorgeous old structure that had a fascinating apothecary museum in it. We both never realised how interesting the history of pharmaceuticals, from ancient times to modern chemicals, could be. Photos of this gorgeous schloss will follow in the NEXT blog.

We then continued to follow the river valley further upstream in the (very) vague direction of Switzerland. As the Sun drew closer to the horizon we turned off on a random road and meandered up into the hills, eventually taking a bush track to a nice deserted spot to spend the night.

Rod got up at sparrow’s fart and wandered off amongst the tall trees for a while, hands clenched deep in his pockets to ward off the chill of the morning mountain air. He was fortunate enough to glimpse a deer dashing off into the undergrowth, determine some fox tracks, have a good look at several very large and bright orange slugs and listen to two different woodpeckers knocking away at the trees.

We have decided that Dexter is a crap name, it conjures up the image of a somewhat drained intellect, so we have decide that even though the motorhome has the name ‘Dexter’ emblazoned across the bonnet, this mini home of ours is to be now re-christened ‘Ebeneezer’. A far more befitting moniker indeed. Ebeneezer Motorhome has a nice satisfying ring to it.

Florence is like a little Rome, only not nearly as crowded or crazy. It is a tiny city that can be travelled across on foot really easily, no need for trains, trams or buses, everything is within easy reach. The ancient buildings are in good condition and the cobbled streets are not too rough. There are historic buildings everywhere, nary a modern structure to be seen in the centre of the city.

Cathedrals and museums are quite prolific and some great art can be viewed in many places throughout the city. We got up close and comfortable with a number of Michelangelo sculptures, including his understandably very famous ‘David.’ Man, that sculpture is eerily awe-inspiring, it has a presence and almost a charisma to it. I know that sounds silly for a lump of marble, but it is more than just a chunk of rock, it is most definitely Grand Art. There is something about the real thing that the many copies around the place are unable to capture.

Queuing was a bit of a problem for us, twice we had to stand in line for over an hour to get in to see a couple of things. As a spoilt Aussie that tended to get up Rod’s nose a bit. Georgie wasn’t too happy about it either.

There were lots of talented buskers playing good music in each of the many ‘Piazzas’ dotted about the place, so even though all the live music venues were closed for the summer we still got to hear some good tunes at night.

Florence has got to be the prettiest city we have encountered on this trip, with lots of great classical art to boot. So it is now officially our favourite city.

An ancient city simply reeking with history. Ancient ruins around every corner and ancient buildings (still in good nick) lining many of the famous Roman cobblestone streets. They take great pride in their Roman history and have managed to preserve (and make money from) so much of it.

When you approach impressive wonders such as the Colosseum there is a deep sense of awe that fills your being. Such a massive and incredibly old structure that has seen so much go on in it (some of it fairly heinous too) and so many thousands of years of constant use. Pretty amazing really.

Rome should be an easy place to get around in with all those trams, buses and trains, such a pity that we showed up in the middle of a transport worker’s strike! That kinda made things difficult for us. We had paid for transport tickets that covered 72 hours, but were only able to use them for half of that. Also we bought tickets from a private hop-on-hop-off tour bus company, but they turned out to be very unreliable and didn’t even go past all the bus stops on their map. We wasted one afternoon waiting fruitlessly for them, the scoundrels. But that’s Italy we are told. Don’t expect metro escalators to work, especially if you are dragging vast amounts of heavy luggage like we do.

But we had a lovely time wandering around the streets, checking out all the architecture and sculptures, dodging selfie-sticks and crazy Italian drivers. We ate splendid meals, saw breath-taking marvels and thoroughly enjoyed some great jazz on the banks of the river. Rome is a stunningly amazing place.

We went to one terrific restaurant, which, after having taken a seat we realised we were punching above our weight. We were seriously under-dressed, and the menu prices made us gasp (degustation menus around 200 Euros per person!). However, we decided to stay and treat ourselves to a little epicurean luxury from the a la carte menu. It was the most divine meal we have ever eaten, and was filled with lots of little surprises that were delivered before and between courses. ‘Twas a shame we were in our hot and sweaty sightseeing clothes, whereas the other guests were in suits and glamorous frocks! A memory never to be forgotten.

The dense shoulder to shoulder crowds around and through the Vatican museum and Sistine Chapel were a little claustrophobia-inducing, but it was worth enduring that suffocating feeling to view the brilliant collection that those past filthy rich popes had ravaged from around the world. The sculptures were fabulous (even if some prude pope had all the willies removed or covered) and the frescoes and paintings awe-inspiring, particularly Michaelangelo’s incomparable ceiling in the Sistine Chapel. It truly is a magnificent masterpiece.

On our last evening we ate a typically Italian meal in a local restaurant that was recommended by our hosts then wandered around to buy the ‘best tiramisu in Rome’ for dessert. Not really a diabetic friendly thing to do, but it sure was yummy.

The highlights of Rome for us were definitely the ancient art and architecture that presented itself around almost every corner, the great food, jazz on the banks of the River Tiber and the history that is absolutely everywhere.

Georgie left Rome feeling a little disillusioned, it having previously been her favourite city in the world – she felt ripped off with tour and bus tickets, and the general unhelpfulness (?arrogance) of service personnel, but it was still an exciting part of our grand adventure.

There remains lots of good memories and yarns to tell.