Germany

Germany

11 June 2011, Week 1

Got to finish packing the van, Michelle has gone to the gym and left me a verbal list of instructions last night which I have forgotten. Long tedious trip to Dover then another long drive to the Mosel. 600 miles or so in total.

Getting away for this trip seems to have been a monumental challenge. We have both been ill and with one thing and another it seemed like we were never going to get away.

Its 320 miles to Dover and you would imagine on a Saturday an easy drive but it seems like England is reluctant to release us and in a final attempt to claw us back into its grip it takes us 7 hours and a 10 mile traffic jam on the M25 to make Dover. The next morning we board the new P&O flag ship Spirit of Britain which turns out to be an apt name. It’s overcrowded, the staff are hopeless, the few toilets that they remembered to fit don’t work and the food is crap. Basically, like Britain, it’s broken.

As we reach the other side we are first off and charge off into Europe in a demented dash for freedom in the general direction of Germany. We promised ourselves we would take it easy but stuff that, let’s get to the Mosel!

Mosel Valley

I can see why everyone in Motorhome Land raves about the Mosel. It’s been designed just for motorhomes apparently. The big white bricks are everywhere. It turns out to be Wit Holiday weekend so maybe that’s why it’s so busy. The Stellplatz are full to bursting but they are everywhere. Literally every few miles at every little riverside village there is a Stellplatz. They are all well sign posted and easy to get onto and very cheap. The river is pretty and some of the little towns are quite interesting. The road runs either side of the river so it’s always an interesting drive. It isn’t long however until the bike discovers the winding roads up through the vineyards with a few hairpin bends and great views over the river and valley below.

The national pastime on the Stellplatz seems to be to sit outside the van and watch the river traffic go by. Not for us. We are young and active! Yeah right, Arthritic, gout ridden and in serious need of a 20000 mile service in my case! No matter, I’m going to get fit and after a late lunch it’s time to for the maiden voyage of Yellow Belly. Yellow Belly is the 10ft inflatable dinghy I decided to purchase this time to enhance our adventures. As we are often near water and with my love of all things aquatic I thought it would be a great addition to our arsenal of toys. This is a gamble as Michelle does not really share my love of all things water borne.

Mission 1, the pumping up takes 20 minutes and is already good exercise although as it’s quite warm I’m sweating already. We have seen virtually no personal water craft on the river. Perhaps it’s because of the huge ships and barges that seem to appear every so often and take up the whole river. No bother, we are British and you have to do these things. The other pressure is the long line of motorhomers all sat in their matching chairs (unlike our £7.99 Argos jobs) staring at the river.There is little doubt that they will take great pleasure in watching the two British idiots in the big yellow dinghy cock it up. In effect we will have a Grandstand audience for our first launch. We mustn’t fail!

We carry Yellow Belly along the lines of vans to the slipway with a few glances from the other vanners with looks of curiosity on their faces. No doubt they are hurriedly getting together to place bets on our survival time. Mission 2. The launching is text book. We are in and off. I’m sure we are a bit low in the bow but our weight difference of over 10 stone may have something to do with that. Off we go up stream against the current and breeze. Its hard work but in full view of the grandstand I have to make it look easy and like I do it every day (mission 3 complete!)

As we finally clear the length of the Stellplatz my stomach muscles are in danger of cramping. This could spell disaster. If I cramp up and one of those massive barges appears, we will almost certainly be killed to death and worse than that become the laughing stock at the Motorhome Grandstand. Slowly and surely I start to get into it but it is hard work and progress is slow.

We do indeed pass a few cruisers and huge barges which from down in the water seem like super tankers.It’s lovely. We are really enjoying it and it’s just the exercise I need without knackering my worn out legs and gouty foot!

Eventually after an hour or so as we eventually head back downstream it’s time to complete mission 4 which is to land, get out without stepping into 8ft of water and successfully remove the dinghy and get it back to the van without incident all the time looking like we do it every day. Once again it all goes perfectly. The dinghy is deflated, packed away in its box and put away in the van without incident. Mission accomplished! This is truly a proud moment in British Motorhoming history. I am however completely knackered and need a long lie down for a few days. Perhaps I’ll go outside and sit in a chair staring at the river. Sounds good.

Thursday 23 June,

Noisy Germany, Road rage and the Black Forest Axe Murderer

The Mosel Valley is truly a motorhome paradise. I can see why they flock here in their thousands. The whole place has just been designed with that ultimate motorhomers Nirvana in mind. Literally more places to park than you can shake a stick at, all in lovely surroundings and next to a river. Park van, look at view, get your matching expensive chairs out and sit by your van drinking wine and watching the river traffic and all for just a few Euros. It ticks all the motorhoming boxes. It does however for us get a bit samey so we head off to the Rhine.

The Rhine turns out to be a much busier and bigger version of the Mosel. There are less Stellplatz (motorhome only parking) and it’s noisy. Lots of traffic, fast roads, trains on both sides and massive barges flying downstream at a rate of knots and hopelessly struggling upstream against the fast flowing current. All of which don’t make for a quiet relaxing place to stay.Even me with my “no fear” (well ignorance is bliss actually) attitude decide launching Yellow Belly here is not wise. I suspect it would be ok if I just wanted to go downstream and eventually head home via the North Sea.

We spend a couple of noisy nights on what are to be fair lovely waterside locations but just complete with surround sound cacophony that is the Rhine in full swing.

What’s made it worse is the weather is a bit crap. It’s still warmish but there is a lot of rain. We manage a couple of trips out on the bike and up in the hills to see the odd castle but both of us are thinking the same thing. We want to get up in the mountains and somewhere quieter and different.

Our last night is spent at Bacharach which is a lovely village with a hill top castle and we are not disappointed.Mainly because it has a Kebab shop which in the tradition of Kebab shops appears to be open 24 / 7.

The Stellplatz is funny. There are two rows of vans. The first row is the premier row which is a line of vans all facing the river. The also ran’s who didn’t get there early enough have to park on the back row, nearer the road and the train track with no river view. We arrive early and get on the premier row. For ages we watch as the motorhomers in the also ran’s row at the back watch with eager eyes for any van that’s daft enough to leave their river spot. As soon as one van moves one of the back row quickly moves to take up his position. The downside for us is that despite our premier row spot we are under a tree so no telly tonight and Mrs D has to watch Desperate Housewives (I of course don’t want to watch it at all, honest!).

Later we deliberately move to the back row in order to get away from the tree and watch the box. The scrap to take over our position however is much more interesting than the telly.

It’s still really noisy all night with trains on both sides, never ending barges and traffic.

The Black Forest

We came here a couple of years ago on our first trip (see Blog Europe 2009) where we seemed to ping pong around several countries with little planning or sense of direction. We loved it but decided we would see a bit more this time.

First stop is Baden Baden, The gateway to the Black Forest. We find a scruffy free car park on the edge of town and head in for a look at the city which claims to be the millionaire playground of the Black Forest region.

On the way into the city I get stuck at lights which seem to be on green but with a queue of traffic going around a corner. As we are a scooter I decide to do what scooters do and zip through the traffic to the front of the queue.As I pass the car in front the woman driving takes objection to my queue jumping and starts shouting out of the window. Once around the corner there is road works so I can’t really go any further. On the other side of the lights I notice the same woman closing fast behind me in an irate way. Clearly she is not happy with the little Scooter going past her which is no doubt made worse by the two GB stickers on the back of the bike. She is right up my backside, gesticulating and dangerously close.Perhaps she has had a bad day /week / month or life, who knows but clearly I was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She has clearly gone mental. I would have had a bit of fun with her but we are a little scooter on a wet road being pursued by a mad German women in a ton of out of control automobile. She is almost on my number plate when at the last minute I bail out right to a side road and casually and rather childishly flip her the finger as we peel off. The tirade of abuse out of her window as she drives past reminds me chillingly of one of Hitler’s News reel rants. We both turn to look at each other and burst out laughing.

Baden Baden does seem quite upmarket and full of rich people and with that thought we wonder why we are here so we head off back to the van.

We find a lovely little Stellplatz at Achern a few miles south (thanks Bognormike) and its quiet, there are only a handful of vans, and could we finally have a quiet night’s sleep after the Rhine. Err, no. At sparrow fart o’clock the workmen start 100 yards away in the field behind us.Lovely.

You see this is why we love France. Their workman wouldn’t be up at 7am banging and drilling stuff. Oh no.They would be quietly eating the Petit Dinner before ambling out to work late morning only to decide it’s too close to their lunch 3 hour to bother making a racket building things. Not the efficient Germans though. Up they get at dawn to drive quickly and noisily to their work which has to be within 100 yards of a motorhome where they will proceed to bang and drill stuff for at least 12 hours.

A perfect day a nightmare night!

So our early start sees us up into the mountains of the Black forest. After days of changeable weather it’s hot and sunny and the mountains and trees beckon. It’s a lovely ride up into the forest. We end up a Triberg and a Stellplatz 2.5 miles up the hill at Schonach. It’s lovely but very hilly. We drive 8 miles back down the road on the bike to what Michelle believes is the world’s biggest Cuckoo Clock. It’s fantastic but it’s the wrong one. Back up the hill we go till we find the right one. They are as big as small houses. I remember however that this is what all the Black Forest shops are full off. Thousands upon thousands of ticking and cuckooing clocks.

Stellplatz Terror

What a lovely little Stellplatz at Schonach. Its way up in the hills behind a sports complex in a small peaceful little mountain town. What could possibly go wrong? We must get a peaceful night here surely. Hmm.

Around 4 am Michelle is awakened by the sound of someone trying to gain access to the van next door. I kind of subconsciously hear it but I’m not properly awake so I don’t know what’s happening, I assume it’s the people next door moving around for some reason. I am shocked immediately awake when the intruder turns his attention to our van and is trying to get in. He is trying the door. This is every camper’s worst nightmare. It’s definitely Jack Nicholson out of the shining or Freddy Kruger and it’s time to meet your doom! I shout at the person to make him aware we know he is trying to get in. A foreign gruff voice outside comes back at me. I tell him to go away and eventually he shuffles off but it’s clear he has now gone to the van behind. Michelle by this time is terrified. I can hear him shouting into the van behind. He doesn’t sound drunk and we don’t think he sounds German. For a moment I wonder if its road rage woman’s husband out for revenge.

I decide that the best course of action is to call the police. I have done something right as my phone is to hand and I know exactly where we are. Also thankfully due to my new health regime for once in my life at 4am I am not pissed! (Actually this has probably all happened before loads of times in the past and I just never noticed) The rozzers say they will send a car. The wise thing to do right now would be to jump in the driver’s seat and drive off. I have however broken the golden rule of parking in strange places. I have parked front on under a tree with the scooter parked directly behind the bike.Without driving over the bike we can’t get out. We hear his footsteps, he is coming back towards us. Its pitch black in the van and dark outside. Again he tries our door, more determined this time but now I’m pissed off.Michelle is terrified and I’m an English man defending my castle! In no uncertain terms I tell him to F**k off and that I have called the Pollizie. I’m shouting now and this seems to do the trick as he does indeed seem to F**k off.

But has he? It’s all gone quiet. Tooo dam quiet. Any minute now we expect to see the Axe come through the door and Jacks face to appear with the immortal words “Here’s Johnny!” or maybe “Hier ist Johan!” (which wouldn’t sound at all scary to be honest). After what seems an age the cops turn up. They drive around for a bit searching but then disappear. It’s still quiet. Did we scare him off, did the cops get him or is he still lurking in the bushes? It’s like one of those horror films where you’re praying for it to get light so the two good looking kids who are the last ones left alive at the summer camp can stand hand in hand and watch the sunrise.Eventually it starts to get light and we drift off back to sleep. Johnny has clearly buggered off. The next morning at the bread van there are clearly some very shaken motorhomers. Out of the half dozen vans, one drove off, one seems to have slept through it and the others are all traumatised. Strangely we just laugh it off and make jokes all day about it. Nobody died (that we know of) and we decide it’s a chance in a million that it would happen again and forget about it.

My post on the Motorhome Facts forum starts quite a stir and there are now literally packs of motorhomers driving around Europe armed to the teeth with everything from slightly scary fly spray tins to base ball bats and worryingly the mention of a Kalashnikov. Motorhome Terrorists and wild camping axe murderers beware. We will defend our vans and loved ones with vigour and great valour to our last breath. I personally have purchased a two foot long evil looking German sausage which is hard as a rock and providing I don’t eat it will certainly despatch Johan no problem.

Back to Titisee

It’s a lovely drive through the mountains down to Lake Titisee. We have been before and despite it being touristy it is a lovely place and was one of Michelle’s favourite spots on our first European tour.

For a change we decide to check out one of these things called campsites. There is a 4 star one right by the lake.Cor! We say as we look through the ACSI guide book at its 4 star lake side loveliness. It has showers, wifi, lake access and lovely terraced pitches. Ok it’s not our normal way of motorhoming to use a campsite but it does sound good. We arrive and are told to have a look around first. Glad we did as the look on Michelle’s face says it all. It’s a dump. Like some kind of refugee camp, overgrown and packed in with cramped pitches and mouldy caravans. If this is 4 star camping then I think we will give it a miss. In the end we end up on a small Stellplatz outside Camping Bankenhof where we stayed on our first trip. €12 with full use of the campsite facilities. They do not however guarantee your safety against Axe Murderers as you are outside the official campsite where apparently some kind of force field must prevent Johan and his axe from entering for a spot of camper culling.

Full of joy we tear off on the bike in bright warm sunshine in our shorts and T Shirts. Titisee and the lake are as lovely as we remember it but me being me forgot about how quickly the weather can turn. Suddenly it turns cold, stormy, very windy and the rain isn’t rain it’s just a solid wall of water falling from the sky. Michelle of course is prepared and produces a full set of water proofs (for her).

We make it back to the bike like drowned rats. I break another tradition and actually make use of the campsite showers which I reluctantly have to admit were flipping fantastic!

We are less than two weeks into the trip which will last the entire summer and already it’s turning into quite an adventure.

Switzerland and the Alps next!