06 – onward to florence

The following morning, feeling much regenerated, we set off on the next stage of our journey, bypassing the busy commercial metropolis of Milan, crossing the flat fertile plains of the Po Valley, passing Parma and the university town of Bologna. We pressed on traversing Reggio Emilia and the rugged Upper Appenines, benefiting from the newly constructed sections of tunnel and elevated stretches of motorway that now slice through the mountains.

On into the quintessential landscape of Tuscany, with its stone farmhouses, olives groves, cypress trees, gently rolling hills and lush wild flower meadows. Soon we saw signs directing us to Florence, a place I had always longed to visit. It had been a pleasantly easy journey down, but once again we found it difficult to locate our campsite, and we found driving through Florence rather un-nerving towing the caravan. Eventually a kindly local gave us good, concise instructions, and before too long we were camped up.

The site was situated on south bank of the River Arno, indeed a very beautiful camping location, and very conveniently placed for walking down into the heart of Florence. Nearby was Piazzale Michelangelo which provided spectacular panoramic views of the medieval city and the surrounding landscape.

The Roof Tops Of Florence

The next day the weather was not too promising, with heavy thundery downpours and a fresh breeze. We set off to do a little site-seeing, but found the city was thronged with groups of tourists from all corners of the globe. There was a long queue to get into the Uffizi Gallery so we headed instead to La Piazza della Signoria. Here we admired at the imposing ramparts of the Palazzo Vecchio and its lofty clock tower, the replica of Michelangelo’s David, the gallery of statues in the Loggia dei Lanzi and the Fontana di Nettuno by Ammannati. We eagerly continued on our quest to find the magnificent domed Duomo dedicated to Santa Maria del Fiore with its intricate green and pink marble façade, and Giotto’s infamous Campanile and the bronze Gates of Paradise of the nearby Baptistry.  

Then to Piazza Santa Croce, with its beautifully frescoed Palazzo and to the church itself, which bears the tombs of many famous citizens such as Michelangelo and Galileo. 

Ponte Vecchio and River Arno

Lastly we explored the characteristic Ponte Vecchio which spans the Arno with its three wide arches. It is lined with a quaint row of little shops which nowadays house mainly jewellers, artists and antique merchants. 

Later we strolled up, once again, to Piazzale Michelangelo and viewed the Florentine skyline by night. As I took one last look before leaving, I vowed I would return again sometime soon to further explore this truly remarkable city.

Then, the final leg of our long journey – our destination being Sperlonga / Gaeta on the Riviera di Ulisse.

 

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05 – italy here we come

Switzerland

The next morning we continued south until we encountered the Swiss Border Crossing. Here we purchased the required “Vignettes” or Toll stickers, to travel on the Swiss motorway system. Approaching Basel we followed the curious subterranean route below the city streets. Before long the motorway took on the most scenic of routes as we passed steep, pine-clad slopes, fresh green pasture lands, charming chocolate box villages and farms, funicular railways, spectacular gorges, cascading water torrents and boulder strewn steams.

The landscape steadily became more wild and rugged and at Lake Lucerne the road skirted its beautiful shoreline treating us to some breathtaking vistas of the snow capped peaks of the majestic Swiss Alps. As we continued to climb steadily the weather once again turned for the worse, as we drove in slippery sleet and rain before entering the renowned  San Gotthard Tunnel which leads through the bowels of the mountain bearing the same name. I was more than relieved to eventually see the light of day at the end of its mammoth 10 mile course, yet we still had to negotiate a succession of such “Gruyere cheese burrows” before triumphantly emerging into the uplifting sunshine of south eastern Switzerland. From here we slowly descended to Lake Lugano with its picturesque backdrop of impressive mountains before finally crossing the frontier at Chiasso into the Lombardy territory of “Bella Italia”.

We realised that we had been somewhat over optimistic with our planned schedule, and decided to rest up for the night somewhere near Lake Como. Thus we faced the challenge of finding a campsite at short notice, so we slowly convoyed into Como’s city centre, during what turned out to be the busy afternoon rush. We needed to find somewhere to pull off the road, so impulsively Paul turned sharply into a car park only to find that it was far too small to swing a cat, let alone manoeuvre a sluggish caravan. This resulted in the caravan taking a slight knock, but thankfully there was no serious damage.  

Lago di Como

I decided it would be a good deal safer to proceed on foot and eventually located the tourist office and was given directions to a small campsite on the western side of the lake that was open that early in the season. We crawled along the road edging our way precariously through charming but very narrow, winding streets of pretty lakeside villages, we all breathed in deeply, just wishing that the caravan was just a few centimetres less ample. We eventually limped, mercifully unscathed, into the grounds of the small campsite, where we unanimously elected to stay for at least two nights, before venturing further south.

Lake Como and the Snowcapped Italian Alps

The next day the weather was crisp but clear and we spent a very agreeable time exploring the picturesque shores on the western side of the lake, adorned with opulent villas and ornate gardens embellished with pavilions, statues, grottoes, cascades, topiary hedges, spring blooming azaleas, rhododendrons, magnolias, mimosas, flowering fruit trees and trailing wisteria. We drove to the northern reaches of the lake, and enjoyed the splendid views of the lake ringed with snowy alpine peaks.

Menaggio

We stopped to investigate the port of Gravedona and particularly liked the resort of Menaggio with its tree lined waterfront promenade, and colourful flower beds planted with spring bulbs. From here we admired the views across the shimmering lake and watched the various ferries crossing back and forth.

On the Sunday afternoon we found the lively town of Como far too busy for our liking, when Italian day trippers were busily “passaggiata-ing” with their family. What it must be like during the summer months I would not like to imagine.

 

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04 – full speed ahead

Almost Ready

A few days later Paul and I,  our younger son and our two faithful hounds prepared for the off.  We were to lead the way, towing the caravan, I was to navigate, and our son was to follow behind in a second car.  Thus our mini convoy rolled out on the first leg of the journey to West Sussex.  We were in high spirits as we trundled out of Wales, over the Old Severn Bridge and into England. 

We stopped over night with family in Storrington and the next morning, feeling re-energized, we set off again heading for Folkestone and the Channel Tunnel.  Here all went extremely well, the dogs’ Pet Passports were hardly required. The “crossing” was remarkably painless, considering how concerned I had been about feeling claustrophobic during the subterranean train journey.

Entering Channel Tunnel Train Carriage

However, as we emerged on the other side of “La Manche” we found that the French weather was set against us, as the rain lashed down while we struggled to fit headlamp converters to the cars whilst endeavouring to shelter under numerous jackets and coats. Foolishly we realised that it would have been so much easier to have done this task during the boring but dry train journey. With window-wipers vigorously swishing back and forth onwards then into Belgium, to the Flemish city of Ghent, where we spent the first night of our journey in our compact caravan home in a distinctly damp campsite near the waterway at Blaarmeersen. 

The next day as we progressed on our journey, we were buffeted by mischievous side winds which made towing the caravan something of a challenge. As we traversed the seemingly endless flatlands, we saw signposts to some of the renowned Battlefields of the First World War. It seemed incredulous that this now peaceful pastoral landscape had once been a quagmire of muddy trenches, a site of horrific slaughter and carnage, where countless good young men had been savagely cut down in their prime.

* Alsace

We entered the Wallonia region of Belgium before heading south, through the wooded hills of the uplands of Luxembourg. Finally we reached the Alsace region in situated in the north eastern corner of France, where the blend of French and German heritage was very apparent. We opted to take a slight detour towards Colmar, wandering through the charming verdant countryside passing small farmsteads, vineyards and blossoming orchards along the way.

Then on to the small city of Mullhouse, on the Rhine, near to the German frontier. Locating this campsite proved to be tricky, as we found our convoy repeatedly circumnavigating the bustling town centre desperately looking for campsite signposts. Eventually we parked up near the train station and were fortunate to be rescued by the owner, who sportingly came out in search of us and kindly escorted us to his premises.

* Alsace (www.all-freephotos.com)

 

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