The Silk Route Motorcaravan Club.

Bulletin 100.

December 2002.
Translated by Christine O'Brien.
Edited for publication by Bill Peckham.

The life of the club.
We have to find something else!

Following on from the AGM, where I was given the green light to go ahead, I went confidently off to pursue links with Aventure du Bout du Monde. As usual, or rather as often happens, I took wishing for having. During an initial interview I was made to feel welcome and assumed the best for the future. So I was very confident and very naive. Though the welcome was warm Mr... who spoke to me gave me no hope that our two clubs might get together.

• Since you have a group of cyclotourists, why not a group of camping-car drivers? Where did you see that we have a group of cyclotourists ? Of course there are some among our 4500 members, just as there are camping-car enthusiasts, but they have no special space in our publication and no special heading. It won't be possible to announce your meetings and outings except maybe in a few lines among the short news items.
  
  
• But the stories of our travels and our photos could make your publication more interesting. We already have too much material and have to be extremely selective. We can't increase the number of pages.
  
  
• If you had another 400 members you could increase the the number of pages. What's more you'd have access to a wider readership and more contributors for the ads. Yes, we might increase the number of pages but we're not really interested in the publicity side, we don't go out of our way for that.
  
  
• Even so, 400 extra members would surely be an advantage to your club? Our members aren't at all interested. The prospect of adding members of 60+ would probably not go down well.
  
  
• Right, but you'll at least send me a copy of your publication, as you offered to do? We sent 2000 copies to one club and got 2 or 3 extra members from it. It's too expensive.

In other words, they're quite happy to have us join but there's no question of maintaining a link with The Silk Route Motorcaravan Club.

This is a real shame. I can't help thinking that our experiences could have been useful to the 'young' members of ABM who may come with age to contemplating more comfortable forms of travel, maybe even motor-caravans. And it's a shame because I've been more than happy with the way we present our information (which has been of benefit to me too, I haven't done all the work for nothing!)

One of our members who also belongs to ABM warned me things might not go well. He was right. And as there are several of you, what is just a dream now may turn out to be feasible tomorrow.

In the meanwhile I find myself back in a position where I am bearing the weight of the club. How can I off-load it? I'm joking, as usual. Also in the meanwhile I've spent a useful week in the country weeding out part of the the archives as I had nowhere to keep them in my 12 square metres of office. I've found all sorts of things. In theory any reports of interest have been published so there's no point in keeping the originals, or the copies of mail to possible sponsors, the press, etc. But there are still some papers I've kept, two huge files about the various trips to China for example. I couldn't bring myself to make a bonfire of them. So if anyone who isn't exploring the world would like to explore the correspondence I'll be glad to hand it over.

Please, don't get on your high horse!

In a place where it was once vital to have a guide, you no longer need one. In a place where you were once advised to exchange your currency on the street, you now have to go to official banks. A border which was once complicated to cross is now easy as walking down the road. A company which once provided crossings at competitive prices is now more expensive and another once considered the most expensive is now more competitive. And as for insurance...

A dip in the archives and old bulletins has made it clear to me that our attempts to establish fixed ideas about certain subjects were fruitless. We have to keep them constantly under review, and who is to do that ? There's a good reason why Camping-car magazine publishes an annual supplement on Ferries.

So, if you become aware that some information you thought reliable is no longer to be trusted, please don't blame the messenger!

Welcome to...

CHABAUD Michel and Marie, The, 282 Le Thoreuil, 88300 Landaville-Lorraine - 03 29 065 072. (Adria on Ford).

LAMANDE Jean-Marie and Liliane, 8 rue Messager, 91240 Saint-Michel-sur-Orge, Paris, 01 60 168 582. (Clemenson on Mitsu L200).

OLIETE Germain, 124, avenue G. Clemenceau 34500 Beziers Laungued.-Rouss. 04 67 312 847 - 06 11 955 969 - germain.oliete1@liberty.surf.fr. Central and southern Europe. (Laika 400 on Ford).

BOGAERT-THOMA Dirk and Lucette, 136 De Mattei, B-1790 Affligem, Belgium, 0032 53 64 89 89 - 0032 477 738 749 - dbogaert@pocketmail.com.

KIRK John and Yvonne, 6 Wensley Road, Northallerton, North Yorkshire, DL7 8HW UK, 01609 777496 - 07712 379803

MARSHALL Brian Roy, Onyx House, 1 Ellington Gardens, Taplow, Maidenhead, Berkshire, SL6 0AY, UK, 01628 624510

MATHIAS Alexander Wolfgang and BOOTH Martin Alan, 16 College Fields, Cambridge, CB4 1YZ, UK, 01223 4233252, fax 0879 1340972, mobile 07836 541559, awmathias@hotmail.com

PLUMB Roger Antony and Laura, Laurels, East Street, Ipplepen, Devon TQ12 5SU, UK, 01803 813 685, 07814 744 026, roger-plumb@texco.net

I've repeated the 3 new arrivals announced in the handwritten bulletin 98.

Changes of Address and E-mail Address.

CRUCHET C., 56, rue Francis de Pressense, 331390 Begles

LE CORRE Marcel, 7 rue de Ville, 77220 Tournan-en-brie, tel 01 64 079 686

MONGAY Remy, Avenue du Theron, 48250 La Bastide Puylaurent

GOUWY Paul, pgouwy@free.fr

LAHAYE Denis and Simone, myrtesvar@aol.com

THEVENT Philippe, philippethevent@free.fr

Please note!

As you will have seen, Bulletin 100 is thick. That's to make up for my holidays. But the January 2003 edition will no doubt be thinner. However, you will find your renewal (or membership) form for 2003 inside together with a general summary. Please pay your subscriptions quickly : the March 2003 bulletin won't be sent to anyone who hasn't paid unless we know that they are away travelling.

Information and gossip from behind the scenes at the AGM.

1. From Guyenne in Gascony. There are three routes from Cahors en Guyenne to Gasgony via Agen. Or so we have been told by the person organising this 'balade'. The route to the north of the Lot valley, the route directly south via the Barguelonne valley and, between the two, the route via Tournon d'Agenais. For all three there were several chateaux, villages and sites 'of no great interest' to be visited along the way. But as soon as the Garonne had been crossed, all the villages in a 30km area were 'very interesting' to visit. Do we assume this is a Gascon boast ?

2. Monument to the unknown cuckold. Among the places to visit the village of Moncrabeau and its monument were included. It is time there was one. The current morals of our society, with cohabitation outside marriage, single parents, changes of marital partners, could make us forget that they existed. We'll no longer forget, as they have their monument at Moncrabeau to be handed on to posterity.

3. 'My taxes' [French, mes impots] : this is what someone taking part in the 'balade' wrote in his travel diary one evening during the instructions given for the tour. When he read it again he was brain dead after two days hard work, wondering what he'd forgotten to pay and afraid of a 10% increased charge. In fact it was at Mezin, on Friday evening, when the council offered us a drink [French Mezin pot] that he realised he had made a mistake when writing his notes.

4. Safety exit : This was written in large letters on the outside of the doors where we held the AGM. Presumably if a major incident had occurred outside while we were having some fresh air, a fuel fire for example, we could have taken shelter inside...

5. Champagne: Some people brought some, others didn't. Some people brought it out to end the discussions, others didn't. Some people wanted to buy some, others didn't. A man named Mahaut - perhaps you know him - tried to tot everything up and wasn't able to to find his bill. Some people were worried that the accounts weren't fair, others didn't worry. At first it appeared that there wouldn't be enough for everyone who wanted to buy some. But after asking round there turned out to be too much, and the person selling it didn't want to take it away again. Some people therefore bought some. Guess the rest ! Again there was almost not enough but eventually everything was sorted and the accounts were accurate.

Paul Gouwy

Practical Information.

Visa for Algeria. You can get this at the Algerian consulate at Niamey for the return journey. You will need proof of lodging. Contact Mr. Abdelkader HIRI, agence4x4tam@hotmail.com and give him the names of the people concerned.

For west African visas, you can get 'free' visas for Mail, Burkina-Faso and Niger at the French embassy in Dakar. Take your passports in the morning and collect them in the evening at 17.00. If you are not going through Dakar, get your visa for Mali in Paris and the others at Bamako.

No need for a customs carnet for west Africa. A permit is handed over at the borders (40f).

Ferry for Morocco. 160 euros for vehicle under 6 metres and 2 people. This is the price confirmed on 15 November by Carlos for Algesiras/Tangier/Algesiras (valid for 1 year) with one free for more than 6.

Tires. For long journeys, instead of using anti-puncture cans, the mechanic who specialises in climatisation and adapted my VW told me he could reinforce my tires with a special gas, which cost about the same amount.

Foreign exchange. To exchange or buy any currency, exchange and collection at 1 rue Rouget de Lisle, 75001 Paris, tel 01 42 600 035, changeetcollection@wanadoo.fr

For sale.

Owing to death and illness, CC Le Voyageur, 7.14m on Mercedes 312TD. As new, 98, 17000km. Group, oven and microwave, separate shower, rear bed and overhead bed (4 berth), fridge, freezer, satellite antenna, many optional extras, price negotiable. Tel 01 46 65 44 84.

A trip and a half.

I am leaving for Madagascar by car on the 10th of December via a score of countries, leaving my friends and family and the consulates of Algeria, Chad, Cameroon, Congo Brazza and Congo Kinshasa full of scepticism. I shall get a good idea of what travel has in store for me, alone and in a 4x4. Length of trip, 2 years minimum as I'm intending to return through east Africa (Tanzania, Kenya, Ethiopia and Sudan).

Claude Desaintjan.

Thanks to the ABM members who gave us a lot of interesting information about travelling in west Africa.

More Practical Information.

Here is the address of an insurance company with its headquarters in the USA which insures for virtually the whole world :

AIU, 505 Carr Road R23-7a, Wilmington, DE 19809, USA, tel 001 302 761 3107, fax 001 302 761 3302.

Contact Lilia Martinez, direct line 001 302 761 3117, lilia.martinez@aig.com.

We took out a policy for all the countries of Central and South America. For every country that refuses to recognise the insurance the company will reimburse the costs of local policies that have to be taken out. They will also reimburse for the remaining months if you return early. This is also the ideal address for those who wish to send their vehicles to the USA since it can be difficult to find another insurer without a fixed address over there. A little expensive but very easy. Their address in France is AIG Europe, rue de Clichy 20/22, 75009 Paris, tel 1 4 902 4171, fax 1 4 902 4243.

Dirk and Lucette Bogaert-Thoma.

Congratulations on the last bulletin which is very interesting [editor's note, and there was I thinking they were all interesting...] For some years we have been using a gas detector, We've tested it several times and it has always worked. Here are the specifications : available from Materiel Narbonne Accessories, catalogue no 11 page 124, ref. 333101, price 124 euros. Warning by sound alarm. 120x55x40mm, 12 volts. I installed it myself without difficulties. For additional security, join the two front doors with a chain and padlock. When we returned from Morocco in April 2002 we exchanged our camper and bought a Fleurette Nyroca 2002.

Michel and Marie-Claude Daviaud.

At Frejus, a Blue Waves landmark for motor-caravanners.

On the battery road, a few hundred metres from the seaside and the port, well signposted. For 2 euros you can get 15 minutes worth of potable water and electricity. No problem for waste water and emptying soil. A second site is planned. For a seaside town this is good news, though there is still no special parking place for motor-caravans.

On the subject of attacks... In Germany we acquired brochures issued by Pro Mobil and Reisemobil [editor's note, when can we hope for a French edition ?] which list those restaurants or hotel-restaurants which allow our vehicles on their parking lots for the night. Obviously you are expected to eat there (which the cook will doubtless appreciate), but when you also learn that some of them offer waste disposal, water-filling, use of toilets and sometimes even showers, camping sites begin to look less attractive.

Michel Godard

Prices have a tendency to go up.

To pay 100, 120 or even 200 francs for a parking spot seems to me prohibitive. Alas, the owners of camping sites have not realised that they are putting off a number of customers. We have discovered that in the south-west a number of local councils have seen the advantages for local trade of free, or almost free, rest stations. But this only applies in France [editor's note, as our British friends know all too well. They have warned us that in Wales we will have to use camp sites, but they are going to negotiate cut rates.] In Croatia in the tourist season the police oblige you to use camp sites. I remember when we were returning from Kotor, after Sibenik and the bridge over the Krk, we were stopped by a police officer and a civilian, who asked, 'Where did you spend the night ? Camping ?' 'Yes, first at the Prapratno auto-camp and last night at the port of Omis.' 'No. You mustn't do that. You have to go to camp sites, said the civilian, forcefully. Perhaps because of an attack? That didn't stop us sleeping in a parking lot on the port of Biograd that same night.

Andre and Francine Helmbacher.

Journeys Being Planned.

End of December departure for : Rome, Sicily, Tunis, Tripoli, Bengazi, Tobruk, Alexandria, the oasis of the west Nile (Siwa, Bahariya, Farfaya, Dahsia), Luxor, Aswan, Sinai, Red Sea, Sharm el Sheik, Dahab and Nuweba. Return either by the same route or via Akaba, Damascus, Istanbul. According to the Libyan consulate, 18 rue Keppler, Paris, it is possible to obtain a transit visa without needing someone to travel with you. The customs Carnet does require a sizeable surety from the bank (2.5 times the value of the vehicle for Egypt). I got one from the Credit Agricole without having to deposit funds or pay a cheque. Armand Pourtau.

Grand tour of Morocco in July/August 2003 in motor-caravan... Notice for enthusiasts. Patrice Rozier 04 76 73 23 82, mobile 06 11 27 91 08 or paroze@aol.com

Beginning of January departure for Gerard and Francoise Charlin and Pierre and Lucette Michel, with two Logemobiles on Nissan and Iveco 4x4s respectively sail from Genoa on 3 January next. Plans include 20000km across Africa, through Tunisia, Algeria, Niger, Benin, Burkina Faso, Guinea, Mali, Senegal, Mauretania, Morocco. Return to France planned for mid-May 2003. Email 0680269742@orange.fr

Sub-Saharan Africa has many friends. As previously announced, the Auffrays, Barbaudys, Brouts, Demontes, Denis, Di Giustos, Dujardins, Mahauts and Peyrins, 9 teams in all, will be meeting at Bourges on the 13 November. Their itinerary (published in the previous bulletin) has been settled up to Bandiagara (in Dogon) where we should arrive at the beginning of February. The rest of the itinerary will be decided in situ. There are still questions of equipment and paperwork to be discussed.

Rendez-vous in Ouaga? Wouldn't it be interesting to meet up in Ougadougou, Burkina-Faso, with the Charlins and Michels who are travelling east-west using the Tunis-Tamanrasset road avoiding the dangerous areas of Algeria? Date: 24 February 2003. Place: Ouaga, The Pavillon Vert hotel, garage at the Shell station beside the hotel. The owner is the correspondent for point Afrique (which may be useful if you need to come back by plane, due to fatigue.)

Return from the grape harvest.

Following the AGM and the trip to the pigeon loft, we visited the region of Mezin, Condom, La Romieu, Barbotan, etc and ended up at Pauillac for the grape harvest at Château Latour. The Larchers had decided to come with us and we were all made welcome by the head grower who showed us to a clean hangar where we had water and electricity, with toilets, showers and a gym nearby.

The next morning at 8 there was breakfast of meat grilled over vine trimmings, jam, butter, wine, coffee and tea, and at 8.30 two teams of about 60 people set off to start work either as carriers or cutters. It is possible to drive to Pauillac as you can be put up in property on the estate where there is a vehicle for transport instead of work.

This year the harvest was late so there were less students and a quieter time, but the atmosphere was very good among both the permanent staff and the seasonal workers. This year's harvest took five and a half days, and both quality and quantity were poor. On Saturday afternoon they had the annual harvest feast, another lavish meal with the range of wines from the estate, Ordinaire, Pauillac, les Fort de Latour and le Latour, etc.

So there was no question of taking to the road that evening even if we'd still been sober. It was better to stay and admire the bottles of Oauillac, Fort de Latour and Latour we'd been given according to custom. A good week full of memorable events but, it has to be said, in the region this place has a bad reputation.

With travel insurance there's no danger in trying it. You can yield to temptation.

Michel Lejosne.

E-mail from...

Thursday 24 October 2002

Hello.

We have been in Quebec for a month and Visited Gaspesie, Tadoussac, Saguenay, St. John's Lake, the city of Quebec (a jewel), Montreal, Mount Tremblant. All as lovely as each other. Tomorrow we will be in Ottawa.

As we haven't been sticking to a strict timetable or route, we've had the chance to make some real contacts. At Sainte-Rose du Nord, near Chicoutimi, we met a family who kindly invited us to spend the weekend with them. At Three-Rivers we spent a memorable evening at the cultural institute and saw a story-teller in Old French and patois. At Saint-Zenon, north-west of Quebec, another family took us in for the weekend and we had our first snow in the morning, 20cm... These evenings offer the opportunity for wide-ranging and enriching conversation. And every day, listening to the radio and talking to people in the street and elsewhere, we are absorbing a bit more of contemporary Canada as seen by the Canadians.

For the last fortnight it's been -3, sometimes -5, with -8 at night and 6 to 8 during the day. When the sun's shining it's more pleasant.

We are thinking of staying another 2-3 weeks so we can pay a visit to southern Ontario.

We are well ; obviously we have to heat the van and need to change our gas bottles often, but so far that's been easy.

Our first impression of the friendliness of the people in the provinces we've visited remains valid.

Hello to all club members

Charles and Colette Brisson.

Monday 21 October 2002

We have just visited the impressive Iguazu falls and tomorrow we are heading south towards Ushuaia.

Chrisiane Dumas.

Thursday 24 October.

Thanks for your reply. The Paris-Beijing 2000 travellers are at Bahia Blanca on the Patagonian road. All's well. We are eating delicious grilled meat under a spring sun.

Good wishes

The Dumas, Lebourgeois and Fabulet teams.

Ushuaia, Thursday 7 November.

Reached the far south yesterday. The coloured roofs were reflected in the pure water of the lake. Today the weather's less good and we're visiting museums and playing around on the Internet. It would be good to hear some news from France

Christiane Dumas.

Friday 8 November

We are coming back from a superb tour in Aragon, including Ainsa and the Sierra de Guarra, a region famous for its canyons and raptors. You could be in Provence, with the snow-covered peaks of the Pyrenees in the background.

Philippe Thevenet.

Postcards from...

Francoise Gomez, Frontignan, 31 August. It was in Gao, not Goa, that I met Pierre and Lucette Michel.

Daniel Meuniers, Crete, 19 September. We are in Crete, visiting monasteries and bathing in the delicious water of the Lybian Sea. Here you can still sleep a few metres from a sandy beach - and alone.

Bernadette Hagnere, Cleguer, October. It's heart-warming when you feel a bit groggy in bed to receive a small token of friendship from the long-distance travellers. Thanks to everyone who signed the card from Lisbon, thanks for your kindness and see you soon.

Michele Steger, Thailand, October. Sorry I couldn't be at the AGM. Hello to everyone and good wishes to the Chinese 2000.

Gerard and Marthe Desfaucheux, Stromboli island, 15 October. After the volcanoes and the Eolian isles, we are now in the Sicilian interior. Very beautiful sites, old stones, Italian driving. Hellish. Have met the Derlys and Blancs.

Antoine and Michele Thimjo, Palermo, 16 October. We've been in Italy and Sicily for nearly four weeks now. Pisa, Siena, Paestum, Messina, the mountains in the middle of the island, Cefalu, Etna, the Eolian Isles. Have discovered some marvels, ideas to return to, wealth and poverty, and met the Deschaufeuc and Jeannots who met the... etc

Alice and Alfred Blanc, Liliane and Andre Derly, Palermo, 17 October. A peaceful trip which we'd hoped to make in sunshine. Sadly the rambles we planned are being ruled out as we get nearer Etna where we met the Deschaufeux.

Christiane Herviou and the others, Mt Kailas, China, 21 October. Hell in a heavenly setting. For three weeks we've been having a terrible time between 4000 and 5000 metres. Hail and snow after the rain. We have to dig and level out the tracks as our engines are too low. Some places were suicidal. A lot of damage everywhere. Now we're stuck in Lassa for administrative reasons and have to carry on dealing with high altitudes over 4000 metres. The women are tired and demoralised, but we still have to cross Pakistan even if it means being shot at. The happiest among us, despite their financial problems and the state of the van, are Andre and Ginette. Their plans to go home have allowed them to escape our nightmare. No, I'm not exaggerating.

Claire and Roger Cortade, Lassa, 21 October. Hellish tracks in a setting of dreams. Lassa at last. Repairs and a halt to extend visas. Visit the town. Nothing to say, it's beautiful.

Rony Loeschbigg and Gislaine, Dubrovnik, 25 October. In southern Croatia we have met a French motor-caravan and some Germans. This area is lovely at the moment, we are finding free stopping places everywhere. The countryside is beautiful, the people friendly.

Hungary-Roumania (summer 2002, 2-25 August).

After several summers on the sunny shores of the Mediterranean, we went further north, heading for the East. But before planning Vienna, Budapest, Prague, Slovakia, we should perhaps have consulted the oracle. Rain and floods were a big change from southern torpor. Luckily the first storms made us alter our plans and aim for southern Hungary and Roumania. Though the sun was reluctant to shine, we crossed some big expanses of water.

On 2 August we left Toulouse as a couple to collect our three boys who were on holiday in the Meuse. Reunions of family and friends helped us get into the holiday spirit from the beginning with a night beside the lake of Madine, and we already felt as though we were on our travels, with a taste of adventure to savor.

On the 5 August we began our trip in earnest and went to Austria via Strasburg, Munich and Innsbruck, not forgetting to buy the motorway badge. We spent the night in the parking lot of the Abbey of Melk, 100km or so before Vienna. After fruhstuck mit britchen (breakfast with a variety of excellent rolls) our visit took us into marble halls, an ancient library with warm wood panelling, treasure-hunt style gardens. A foretaste of Vienna, our next stop.

What a capital. Everything is large, huge, grandiose. In two days with a night on the heights (Kalhenberg parking lot) we did the round of palaces. The Hofburg with its Emperor's wing, where only Dany enjoyed the china collection. St Stephen's cathedral after a short unexpected organ concert at the Augustinians. And the palace of Schobrunn, so impressive in its luxuriousness and vastness that our van seemed tiny. But what a joy to lunch opposite the palaces on the Hofburg parking lot. And that afternoon, we went to different museums in the Neue Burg: the boys chose weapons and armour, Dany and Philippe old musical instruments.

We preferred to spend the night in a quiet spot, so left for Hungary (and a new badge). Stopped in a lovely little camping site at Pannonhalma. There we tasted our first goulash and spent an enjoyable time with two young Belgian girls, Eglantine and Valentine, who had come from Sarajevo. Over a coffee their enthusiasm convinced us to go for Roumania. We were in any case wondering whether we really wanted to embark on a marathon round of palaces in Budapest and Prague.

On the 8th August we drove along the shores of Lake Balaton, an inland sea and a symbol of summer holidays for Eastern Europe in the Cold War era. The Tihany peninsula breaks up the monotony of mass tourism. Bathed in deep water with mud, fishermen and reeds. Spent a night at the Badacsony camp site, where some French people lent us an issue of Geo on the Roumanian forests which had our mouths watering.

The lake of Heviz is unusual and as surprising as the Dead Sea. Five hectacres of warm water, 37 degrees, specially equipped for bathing and thermal cures. From children to robed grandmas, everyone relaxes at their own buoys. Though we mocked to start with, we soon began to envy them, as swimming in that temperature soon tires you out. A great place for meetings, life and conviviality.

After some quiet roads, where we were overtaken by a dozen sports cars (Audi TT, Z3, Prsche...a rally presumably) we bivouacked in the forests on the hills of Pecs.

In the morning, we stopped at the Tower of TV Torony, a superb panorama from the top of 18,500 tonnes of concrete, a symbol of the old regime. Then came Pecs with its amazing mosque now a church, its basilica with four bells and its doors with thousands of padlocks, nobody knows why.

Going towards Mohacs we crossed the Danube by ferry and found it particularly swollen, dirty and tumultuous. Spent the night at Szened by a park near the river bank. This is a lively town where it's pleasant to stroll in the evening, with a festival and small popular concerts by the fountain. Typical coloured pastries were a pleasant addition to our meal.

On 11 August, on the road we came across some storks and other wading birds. We had to wait two hours at the Roumanian border post even though visas are no longer necessary. No shock, as we had feared, but a progressive transition into another country which may not be very wealthy but is certainly authentic.

Ate in a local hauliers' cafe where we stuffed ourselves for 20 euros for five, though we weren't always sure what we were ordering as the menus were almost impossible to understand. We were now in the Land of the Moti, a wild forested region, of yoked animals, harvesting with scythes, a lot of sawmills, where quietness reigned. At Arieseni we met a motor-caravan from Charleville, regulars who enthusiastically filled us in on the country.

Took a trip to Martha's to talk and buy a map of the area. After a night at the ski resort, we put on our mountain boots for a day-long walk through valleys, stiff climbs, gorges, meadows and forests where we ate our fill of blackberries, blueberries and raspberries, after filling our bags with wild mushrooms. A lovely walk, but long because we were slightly misled by the map which reminded me of some of the old Spanish mountain maps.

At Pauleasa canton, we talked to three Slovaks who like us were looking for a way out of this maze. After travelling through hamlets dating from another century, we were glad to be back in our 'house'. But there was then a night of violent storms and the first serious problems with our roof appeared. Too bad. We hoped to spend more time in this enchanting countryside, but the weather chased us away.

Food shops are picturesque and often full of nice surprises, with honey, cheese, spit-roasted cakes. We enjoyed Sibiu (spent the night near the university) with its squares, and its pharmacy museum where I found myself acting as Roumanian-French translator. We paid frequent trips to the restaurant (excellent Bumita or Balcescu pizzas in the street).

Happy Birthday Philippe, this year in Brasov. Dirste camping is a top-class site, a refreshing stopover. But the weather discouraged us from climbing the mountains and instead we visited castles and monasteries, a shame. On the way to Sinaia (over 100km from Bucharest which we had decided to avoid). A French language visit this time with the timely arrival of a group which we joined for a while. A castle, replica of the Bavrian castles, with sculpture, marquetry and decorated ceilings, wood everywhere and really warm.

Swift visit to Brasov, with its black church surviving from a memorable fire, its old quarters and its wonderful old Orthodox church. To sleep we headed for Prejmer and its fortified Lutheran church. Very picturesque, but the bells sounded a little too often for a really quiet night. It was raining again and morale was low. We felt restored after a trip round the market at Onesti: juicy doughnuts, exotic dishes, we tried a bit of everything with varying success.

On the road we bought mushrooms, 5 francs a kg for cepes, 20 francs a bucket for chanterelles, to make a real feast. The roads are bad, full of holes, hen's nests, and with lots of animals crossing, progress was slow. It got even worse when we entered the valley of Tazlau. No more tar, and sometimes even no more road. We hobbled along to the monastery at the end of the road, where we were awaited by Little Father Emilien. He took us into his world and taught us everything about Stephen the Great, his 48 monasteries, Saint Anne and Saint Joachim. And woe betide anyone who got it wrong when he asked us questions. This monastery was so full of images that we still remember it with pleasure. Spent the night on top of the plateau with the shepherds. The sunset seemed out of this world but the storms in the night soon brought us back to earth. We were virtually out of supplies, with no more milk and only some Roumanian butter which seemed rancid, it was quite a business finding food for my little family in out of the way places. Try saying 'milk' in Roumanian.

At the monastery of Dragomina we meet some people from Ramonville, 8km from our home, and some Dutch people who were there for humanitarian reasons. The parking lot was a good stopping place and the Turkish style coffee excellent. At the suggestion of the French we crossed the forest to Patrauti. A few kilometres of walking for Aymeric, Vivien and Philippe as we followed Dany and the truck. She had a few scares on encountering a locked barrier and crossing the village of Roms, which was otherwise a lovely place.

On 18 August we discovered Voronet. The blue of its monastery (powdered lapis lazuli) is famous through the world, the Sistine of the East. The painted frescoes, inside and out, are real jewels : the Tree of Jesse, The Last Judgement, Philosophers. Symbolic revelations. A peaceful night on the banks of the Moldova followed a delightful dinner in the open air.

At the monastery of Moldovita we were taken in hand by Sister Tatiana. An intense, symbolic visit, driven forward in an energetic way by her strong personality. In brief, we journeyed from the siege of Constantinople to the Tree of Jesse, from the stars of the Virgin to the Philosophers, from relationships between the saints and martyrs, from the Old Testament to the New.

Again a wild region, the Munti Rodnei, wooded mountains, studded with muchrooms bought for a pittance by collectors and destined for European dinner tables. For once we found it hard to bivouac. And we were glad to find a meadow near Iza after Salista. I almost regretted the more relaxed regions of the mountains.

Visits to wooden churches gladdened the heart of the wood-man in me. After Vadu-Izel we stopped at Sighetu Marmatie, where the Curtea Veche restaurant was very pleasant. After flirting with the Moldavian border, we drove along the edge of the Ukraine on the other side of the river. We passed the cemetery of Sapinta without stopping to look at the the tombs and humorous epitaphs, a shame.

From Satu Mare we followed the border to Peta in just an hour. We spent the night at a parking lot at the entry to Mateszalka, and would have had a quiet night but for the fireworks that woke us - Saint Stephen. Leaving was hard work, we took the wrong road twice. At midday we had lunch and bathed at the lake of Tiszafured, where there's a lovely little port at Poroszic.

Budapest already. The Danube was overflowing, but there was sunshine around as well. Camping Haller is the ideal stopping point, full of French people, fans of VTT from Toulouse, people from the North coming back from Roumania in a caravan, young people travelling by train who advise us against Slovakia and its toll roads. One group in a VTT, one group on the underground railway and the visiting began. Castle, palace, Saint Mathias church, the Basilica (a little disappointing) with an excellent meal of specialities at Hild Etterem. The afternoon was given over to relaxation at the Szechenyi baths, a superb rococo, even grandiloquent establishment, but a very pleasant one with its series of pools. Relaxed in the baths from 18 to 37 degrees where some people were playing chess, after a sauna or a Turkish bath. This is a meeting place.

It was beginning to feel like the end. A last trip to the market with its dripping doughnuts and made a few purchases to use up the florins. After the Austrian border at Neusield we tried out a shopping village with so-called factory prices, but these factories must have been top of the range as everything was expensive. Perhaps we out of synch after Roumania.

Villach, Ferona, Savona were some of the stops on our journey home. We crossed the border on the 24th around 3pm. We preferred to keep driving to get back to Toulouse, even though it meant not stopping in Provence. Do you remember that weekend when there were such violent storms? We came home that Saturday at 10.30pm.

After 6210 km we finally returned to the fold. Our journey was far from the one we'd planned, not exotic climbs and not many forest walks. But we did discover an authentic country where the smiles aren't yet commercial, a truly attractive Roumania which we're impatient to rediscover... in the sun.

Philippe Thevenet.

Australia Upside Down
or 45 days in the peaceful land of the kangaroo.

Having left La Conquille in France at 1pm on 12 June, it was 4 in the morning when faithful Gisele welcomed me with a smile, despite the early hour. I had met her in Nepal during a memorable trek and she often phoned to say 'Come and see Australia.' She was to be the organiser of my tour. Last year I didn't speak Chinese, this year I didn't speak English, but Gisele was always on the end of a phone and ready to help me out if necessary.

Fourteen times the size of France, there was a lot to see. Darwin, where my friend lives, is a pestilential town for Australians because of the heat and humidity. But it was winter for us, so the temperature was ideal (30-32), the humidity low. Even so there was air conditioning everywhere, humming away more or less loudly. Gisele was familiar with the bush. She raised her children there without water or electricity in the back of beyond. So she took me to some idyllic bathing places where I discovered clear warm water, tropical forest, strange animals in places where the dingos howled terrifyingly in the night. There are also wallabies around, snakes and crocodiles all over the place, while the cockatoos squawked worse than any Parisian street urchin like me.

On the road to Kakadu, the Toyota literally leaves the ground when crossing the train road. These modern monsters pull three huge trailers. It takes them a good kilometre to break and the hog the middle of the road. Their chrome bodies shine in the sun. As far as I was concerned they were like some nightmare road movie, but Gisele, unfazed, carried on driving without turning back, tossed about by the air in their wake

Near the wharf, hung hundreds of chattering bats. The boat slid out to the estuary and there was a ballet of saltys. Saltys are 'bad crocodiles', not to be confused with 'freskys', the freshwater versions which are apparently less bad. I didn't check it out. Rising vertically from the water, the salties skilfully catch pieces of meat hung from a boathook, scratching each other in the process. The eagles, in their hundreds, are sometimes faster but because the crocodiles hate them (with good cause as they destroy their nests) they keep a look out for the wake of their enemies. I photographed all this, but the camera must have been frightened as the negatives remained... negative.

The villages are worthy of American highways, and laid out at right angles. But look out, we were in Aborigine country, no alcohol for sale. What was worse, there was no pharmacy in the general store. The motels where non-Aboriginals can buy boxes of 24 VBs (Victoria Bitter) each containing 37.5cl (the daily consumption of two, and sometimes one Australian) were welcome and had us resting for a few pleasant hours with a swimming pool without crocodiles. The sun disappeared around 5pm, so the evenings are long.

Another boat, another estuary and we were looking at Aboriginal paintings dating back 30000 years. These are made from dots of mineral pigment which can still be seen in the rocks and which create beiges, dark browns, reds, blacks and whites. Each painting tells a specific story.

Good-bye to Gisele, and I was flying to Alice Springs, ready to attack the outback in a 4x4 safari. This too was Aborigine land, where the dreaming is red as the sandstone of the mountains and plateaus. But the winter here was different from Darwin's. The temperature goes from 24 to 0 in one day, nobody had the right clothes and we had to do some buying (woolly hats for night and day). Motor-caravanners take note, the tracks in this area are not passable. It often became obvious that our minibus wasn't high enough off the ground and we had to be towed out while we were pushing.

Camping Australian style, on safari, is well laid out, but could be better as far as equipment is concerned. Two-person army tents without any protection for low temperatures, two camp beds, 2 synthetic duvets with fastenings which couldn't be used as sleeping bags. Cold running water, sinks with buckets underneath, gas barbecues and guaranteed draughts in the eating areas. The driver-guide became the cook. The food was plentiful and fine. But there was masses of washing up, worthy of the army, with greasy water, no rinsing, and everything having to be dried, with everybody helping. The toilets, wash basins and showers were sturdy but it was difficult undressing in such low temperatures. The campfires were always very welcome.

The Australians seem to enjoy this kind of hard life, but that didn't stop them, and me, getting bronchitis. It is bound to be better in the summer, but the problem then must be thousands of flies.

Some advice.

Protect your ankles. Some of the spiders are fatal, and the ones I encountered certainly loved my ankles, which I had kindly made available to them. Don't be surprised if they swell up.

Don't put down clothes on the ground or on trees as the spiders are there too, and snakes not far away.

As you can see, the decor is planted for protection. On the other hand, what days you will have, what sights and what memories! Extraordinary sunsets, plants, termite hills, trees, the bush, mountains, gorges, rivers and the wallabies that come to drink there. The friendliness, because people soon form into groups, and, of course, Aboriginal art.

Before leaving Alice Springs, do make a long visit to Desert Park, an Aboriginal evening, the telegraph station which unites this large country, the School of the Air, the flying doctors. Afterwards you'll be able to fly, as I did, to Cairns where, when I went to reclaim my luggage, I saw a card reading 'Marcel, it's Helen'. I was expected. It was great.

The Villa Vaucluse, owned by Yuan and Helen, friends of Gisele, is Paradise. An apartment with a balcony,, a swimming pool, a tropical loggia, in the centre of town.

The world changes. Are there Aborigines here ? I don't know. Now you're among New Australians. Large, even obese (and it begins early) women with bold expressions and tropical necklines. As everywhere the market is a good place to look and understand.

Cairns is a country town without its own beach and buzzes 24 hours a day. It's difficult to get a seat in a restaurant from 4pm to midnight. Some of them don't serve alcohol, but it's not far to store and you can always take your own bottle.

I soon left for northern Queensland, in search of the old life, on the trail of Cook, that amazing navigator who managed to confuse Australia and England ; and, above all, for that tropical atmosphere which would lead our underground dwellers in dances fit for trolls. Wallabies, emus, dingos, snakes, crocodiles are all there, together with flocks of noisy coloured birds.

The forests are marvels of life, growth and luminosity. The rivers where the saltys live can only be approached by boat and observing strict safety regulations.

A final motel, built by a sentimental promoter (yes, really) of the equatorial forest and I was back with a driver-guide born in Marseille. I didn't speak for a long time. Imagine that! Though I wasn't speaking, I was able to think and to develop a few semi-certainties about the Australian people.

The Australian couple is often of mixed European origin, though the arrival of Asiatic women with more discreet charms is creating a new stereotype. The men are usually well-built and kings of the well organised barbecue where they excel especially when using heavy pans for the vegetables... but oh dear when it comes to the washing up

The women are post-revolutionary housewives, ready to party with alcohol and cigarettes but not with their husbands. French women are appreciated because they are gentle.

When it comes to the family budget there is a common pool for the rent and then everyone gets on with their own life. The ends of the month are difficult but in this land of borrowing at interest everything gets sorted. Television (80% public service), life, food and business are all American in style and yet they believe in French resistance to Americans as represented by De Gaulle and French foreign policy, Jose Bove and Zidane.

Lots of remarriages without any obvious problems except obesity due to constant snacking, cola abuse and irregular mealtimes.

I embarked in the morning for the Coral Reef. Words can't convey the beauty of the coral, the fluorescent fish, the giant turtle that watched and waited as I went back to the surface for air.

A huge bus glided along the road towards Airlie Beach (12 hours, hundreds of kilometres of sugar cane) taking me towards an old green sailboat which was waiting for me with its crew, the captain on board, his two sailors, a young woman to sail the boat and a young man to cook proper well-made and well-presented meals. We drifted along. All the sails stretched to create a large shelter and the whole crew was on deck looking at that extraordinary spectacle, the islands of the Coral Reef.

We came back on a long bus journey. The night passed with a few stops in odd places, crossroads, service stations, closed shops. Habitats changed. The wood prefab was replaced by solid structures, stilts became more infrequent, the countryside turned into a region of pavilions stretching for hundreds of kilometres.

Brisbane is a Victorian town with disconcerting traffic. Compared to us the Australians drive more slowly, but in Paris that would lead to the ultimate jam.

Another bus, 20 hours, pressed up close to a young Australian of the cola-hamburger generation, with not much room to move. At 5 in the morning we stopped to eat and my neighbor ate a huge plate of chips with ketchup and coca-cola.

But now the eternal suburbs became Sydney, spell-binding Sydney, my kind of town. First there was the architecture. The IGH is lovely, then there is the Opera House. A masterpiece. I wanted to applaud the Danish architect Joern Utzon who hasn't always been appreciated by the Australians.

Lunching in the revolving restaurant in the Tower is a must. See Sydney at night, and dive down and over sharks and giant rays in glass tunnels. Manly and the other beaches. Hold a koala in your arms and a wallaby by the hand. Then head for the Blue Mountains and come back via the vineyards.

Alas, it was time to come home. Together with the Australian swimming team I got onto the plane. But I shall be back there again...

Marcel Lecorre.

Australia (or almost)
A cuckoo of the Southern Hemisphere.

It is now two months since we started our travels through this country of extremes and contrasts in a hired campervan. Having arrived in Sydney, we went due north to Brisbane and Cairns. The east coast is quite like the Mediterranean coasts of France and Spain, so not that interesting to us. We were only attracted by Hervey Bay, for the whales, Fraser Island, Arche Beach for the islands. At Cairns and Port Douglas we were irritated by the tourist exploitation of the Great Barrier. There are many coral reefs in the world which are at least as beautiful.

We went towards Darwin by the roads of the north-west. Impossible distances which service stations every 300 kilometres and heat although it was only early spring.

Before Darwin, Katherine Gorge, superb. Stopped at Daly Water Caravan Park, an old pub from the 1920s, a warm atmosphere.

In the Kakadu National Park words failed us when we tried to describe the enchanting sight of the Yellow Water with its thousands of birds of all species mingled together, crocodiles basking in the sun and even perched in the trees.

After Darwin, the most northerly point in our trip, we went to Adelaide along a road 3000km long (9/10 of which was desert). First stop at Tennant Creek (former gold mines), then Alice Springs, a departure point for many excursions.

Three days later, we went on to an Australian high spot, Ayers Rock, or more precisely Uluru, when we can recommend the Sunset tours. There was special parking for them, drinks for their customers and, when there are 5-600 people it is a sight to see with Uluru lit by the setting sun in the background.

Another sight, lunar this time, was waiting for us at Coober Pedy, the world centre for opals, where there were thousands of craters. This village dates from another era, so there's little infrastructure and a lot of dust, but luckily for Madame there were also some traders.

When we were planning the trip we hoped to include a stretch of shoreline in Nullarbob where the whales come to reproduce. 1500km, but it was worth it. From the cliff top we saw them breaching with their young. A short trip in a small plane gave us the full view : cliffs as far as the eye could see, the ocean with its palette of colour, the whales, nobody could ask for more.

14500km, 30 stops. In a few days we shall be in Adelaide and then we shall only have a month to get back to Sydney before leaving for New Zealand on 14 November.

On the subject of Australia, The Moriots are no longer there. After experiencing some health problems they have gone home for the time being. Jean and Simone hope to return to Brisbane soon. Their truck is waiting there for them to continue their tour.

Maurice and Gisele Chaplart

Vancouver-London-Paris-Beijing and back, 2002.

At the beginning I could more or less follow and translate the accounts of the journey.

But now it's a bit more chaotic.

But you can read all about it here.

Austria, Slovenia, Croatia and Montenegro.
A small journey in August and September 2002

After abandoning our plans to go to east Turkey for various reasons, we decided instead to visit friends in Austria who had been inviting us for 4/5 years to see them in the charming little village of Lienz in southern Tyrol at the edge of the Dolomites. Words can't do justice to our walks in the neighboring villages where there were fanfares everywhere from trombones and big drums played by musicians in traditional costume from another era. It was like being at a non-stop party, especially as the sun shone. The light digestible local beer was flowing, but we also enjoyed delicious sausages and smoked hams which taste like nothing you can find anywhere else. And we discovered polenta with wild mushrooms and linzertorte (Lienz tart), a royal treat. After a few days we left our friends regretfully and went to a camp site on the shores of a lake in the mountains among pine trees. Here unfortunately the rain we had left in France caught up with us. So we left for Slovenia, but it followed us there too and overtook us. So there was nothing for it to make for the seaside at the Dalmatian coast of the Adriatic in Croatia which we had already visited in 1994-95-96.

After Pijeka and under a wonderful blue sky we looked for a camp site to stay in as the police don't allow camping in the wild. It was possible during the years of conflict and we did just that during our three visits as we were among the few tourists brave, and happy, enough to go, avoiding the usual throng of Italian and German tourists. But the price of camping has undergone galloping inflation and we were charged at least 220 francs a night, which we thought exploitative.

So we were forced to carry on to the small town on Senj (an ancient fortress occupied by the Uskoks who conducted a war of piracy against the Turks and the Venetians) to find somewhere with an acceptable price of 120 francs a day, with our feet in the water and the town very near. The Dalmatian coast is a constant marvel, and after a few days of rest the storms arrived. So we fled again towards Biograd where we slept at the harbor. We visited Sibenik, an ancient town conquered by the Venetians in 1412 and under the control of Venice until 1797. The cathedral of Saint James has an interior of extraordinary richness, and the lateral facade shows the birth of humanity with statues of Adam and Eve, the apostles Peter and Paul and the Entry to Paradise, but we saw the whole thing through heavy rain.

We then carried on towards the falls of Krka to reach Skradin, a pretty little village by a lake near a river where a marina full of superb boats fell victim to Serb artillery. You can still see the damage done on the houses and some of them remain uninhabited. A smart set stays here, but after various conversations we learnt that the prices are prohibitive if you want to stay with your boat, and that the Croatians (now acting like pirates) are killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.

The Serb church in Skradin which contains an important Serbian and Byzantine collection was closed, unluckily for us. So we stopped on the parking lot for the night at a cost of 55 francs among a group of 5/6 motor caravanners who were all ignoring the others. We didn't go to the falls of Krka, which we already know.

Obviously we couldn't overlook Omis, a Corsair town and a former medieval city dominated by the ruins of the fortified castle. It still has the same narrow streets full of life and tourists, which create a happy atmosphere. There too we managed to park at the harbour without any problems.

We then left for Ston, which is surrounded by 14th century walls, flanked by towers, which form a 4km-long fortification system locally nicknamed The Great Wall of China (NB, anyone not planning to go to China). Ston has preserved an episcopal palace and a number of churches from its Renaissance past, including one with bas-reliefs of Saint Nicholas.

After that we went down to the small bay of Pratpratno. A wonderful spot with a 3-star camp site in a beautiful olive field, where the price of 120 francs a day is quite acceptable considering the loveliness of the place.

After five days rest we learnt that Montenegro (the Black Mountains) was now accessible with an ordinary passport. So, as Francine wasn't familiar with the bay of Kotor, one of the loveliest places in the world, I decided to go there so she could see it.

Before crossing the border, we stopped at Cavtat, a place surrounded by tropical vegetation which was once the ancient town of Epidaurus destroyed by the Barbarians in 639, and from where the Graeco-Roman survivors went to found Raguse. An agreeable small town, on what is virtually an island where all the churches are lit in the evening so that their silhouettes stand out against the night sky. We slept peacefully at the harbour as we had done last in 1996 when this was the last point in our trip.

The border crossing was easy and we stopped at the small town of Hercegovni, at the entrance to the Mouths of Kotor, which stretches along the shore on a hillside among palm trees, orange trees and cactuses. Founded in 1382 by Tvrtko I, king of Bosnia, the Turks seized it and built a fortress there. Then the Venetians took control of it, and finally the Austrians in 1797. The old quarter has preserved the citadel built by the Turks and all the churches were built on demolished mosques.

The small centre of the town contains a wonderful market where you can find local cheeses in small barrels, butter straight from the churn, new-laid eggs, honey at fantastic prices (4 euros for a one kilo pot). And the currency being used here was the euro, which made things very easy for us.

[To be continued, with a map, in the next issue.]