Franco-Belgian Weekender

As always it has taken longer than it should have to get around to putting down some words, however here are a few photos from Hobbes' trip to France and Belgium a couple of weeks ago...

The trip, principally to attend an ANZAC ceremony at the Australian Somme Memorial, had been tossed around amongst some of the Arup Australian contingent for a while, however it was looking to be all to difficult until an eager car and driver were found on Thursday afternoon... so at the proverbial one minute to midnight it was on, four boys, one car and few plans (considering the Munich Debacle, it was little wonder that Aimes was concerned...)

Sunset over Dover

Graves in the Australian War Memorial at Villers Bretonneux

After work on Friday, the usual tube troubles meant a late arrival at the pick up spot outside the M25, and despite the best efforts of our chauffer (Chris) and running on vapours for a good half an hour, we missed the ferry to Calais and had to wait until 11:45pm for the next one... even though this did give us an opportunity to experience the beauty of Dover's truck car park, with it's interesting truck driving inhabitants (or should that be wagon divers in the local vernacular), I don't think any of us were particularly pleased, if only because of the lack of dinner options at the only shop - WH Smith.

The Franco Australian Memorial

Lost somewhere in Boulogne

However, we eventually made it to France, after a couple of duty free beers on the boat, and were expecting a short drive down to Boulogne where we had booked a hotel. Unfortunately attempting to find the hotel without a map wasn't as easy as you might expect, and it took much driving around, calls to Australia for directions and scaring of the only person we managed to find (a cyclist who obviously didn't want to give us directions) before we managed to find the hotel - right next to the highway exit we had initially taken.... Time check - 4am!!

Breakfast somewhere on the northern French coast...

As a result of our shenanigans the previous night, we didn't rise early enough to make it to the ceremony at the Franco-Australian Memorial at Villers Bretonneux, however we checked out with a few other late arrivals. Even having missed the ceremony it was a pretty moving experience, especially seeing the number of unnamed graves and number of names, even though they represented only those Australians killed in the Somme campaign... From here we visited another Australian memorial at the nearby village of Le Hamel (of General Monash fame), which being located a top a hill gave a good overview of the futility of the western front campaign and the little progress made over years of wasted effort and loss of lives.

Le Hamel

After this we headed for the Albert where we sampled the produce from the local patisserie while enjoying the sounds of the local Chavs on their scooters (sports exhausts and all). After lunch we continued our drive around the Somme, taking in the British and Northern Irish Memorials. The British Memorial at Theipval, was a little uninspiring at first, that was until you get close enough to realise that the 16 massive columns are covered on each side with thousands and thousands of names – again, very sobering…

The Anglo-French war memorial in Theipval

The unknown soldier at the Australian Memorial in Villiers Betrenoux

Anyways, after spending the best part of the day driving around the narrow lanes and villages of northern France, and having had a taste of Belgian beer (out of the boot of the car on the side of the road), we decided we needed a change and headed straight for Brussels. A pretty swift run down the motorway, partaking in the European love of ignoring speed limits (or are they suggestions?) and we were in a hotel and ready to quench that hard earned thirst!

Arcade in Brussels

Out for beers in Brussells

Dinner was unsurprisingly mussels and frits followed by many beers of different colour, taste and quality… It definitely made for a nice change to be drinking good quality beer in quantities and surrounds that allowed you to enjoy it rather than attempting to down yet another pint (or mass). Sure I will be back there in the not too distant future!

View of Brugge from the Bell Tower

After breakfasting on croissants (not quite the greasy fry up that was called for), it was on to Brugge (after we managed to find our way out of Brussels, yet again sans map that is). Brugge is supposedly a bit over-touristed, however it is like that for a reason as it is also very beautiful, and an enjoyable afternoon was had there. Yet again we had fantastic weather, in fact it was reportedly better than the UK which apparently is somewhat rare for Belgium, so most of the afternoon was spent sitting enjoying this rare phenomenon. We decided against the canal boat trip, as the canals were a little congested with boatloads of geriatrics, though will have to do one some day (having also dodged it in Amsterdam). Though we did earn our lunch burgers with a climb to the top of the 350m tall bell tower where access considerations were obviously not high on the design agenda and most of the climb was spent waiting for people to pass….

Chris, Phil and Mark in Brugge

Mussels and beers

From Brugge we took the coast road back to Calais via Oostende, which we were later to find out is Belgium’s premier beach resort. Near the top of the list of things I didn’t expect to be doing in Belgium was swimming at the beach, however after having driven past several glimpses of white sand between the obligatory beachside high rise, we soon found ourselves stripping off for a dip in the English Channel. That the brown algae filled water and freezing temperatures didn’t deter us says something of the ocean swimming depravation we have endured, and perhaps it was just the presence of too much testosterone, either way we were in… and then very quickly back out – tick swimming at a Belgian beach off the to do list!

Downtown Brussels

Though that isn’t to say that the beach wasn’t nice, in fact it was long and well endowed with normal sand, and in the afternoon sun was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

After our unscheduled stop it was back on the motorway for the final leg to Calais, where we had time to grab some traditional French cuisine (a kebab) before boarding the ferry (on time for a change). On the trip back we part-took in the British past-time of loading up on booze and tobacco on trips to the continent, loading up the car with a good few cases of wine

Oostende

At about this point swimming should have seemed a bad idea...

An hour or so later and we caught a glimpse of the White Cliffs of Dover in the fading light of the early evening and from there it wasn’t much of a drive back London. The usual train chaos at this point assured us that we weren’t far from home and despite an unscheduled lay-over in Epsom, managed to be back in Fulham before midnight – good times…

Sunset over Dover's white cliffs

Hen De Cymru - Old South Wales

The goods

Easter means camping, so after a couple of years hiatus from the ritual we headed off to South Wales with tent and sleeping bags in tow. The only slight problem being our current carlessness required a 6am tube ride out to Heathrow lugging our (and a fair bit of Gerg's) camping gear, still at least we didn't have to battle London roads out to the M4...

Carreg Cennen Castle

Tenby Harbour

Anyways, before long we were on our way, headed for the Gower Peninsula. A brief stop in the traditional British seaside resort of Mumbles for lunch (how can you go past fish and chips), and then on to the beach. Despite being named the most beautiful beach in the UK by The Travel Magazine we were not particularly inspired by Oxwich Bay, perhaps it was the wind or the hundreds of metres of mudflats, but it just wasn't what we would call a beach... Not to say the surrounds aren't beautiful, with your standard narrow hedge lined laneways, castles scattered around the coutryside and lush green sheep covered hills.

Never let a military firing range prevent you from getting that photo!

Though we weren't able to stick around for long as we still had some distance to travel to our campground near Tenby on the southern Pembrokeshire coast. Ariving late in the afternoon, the owner was shocked that we had covered the whole 400km from London in the day! Anyways, after erecting the tent we headed into nearby Tenby, which is a cute little town with a small harbour, colourful houses and at this time of year no parking.We spent the remaining daylight hours wandering around the steep streets, enjoying what was fortunately much less of a tourist trap than we had been expecting. In a further attempt to assimilate into British culture we decided on Indian for dinner, as nothing says seaside resort like a curry!

Can I buy a vowel?

Aimes enjoying the sunshine on St David's head

Next day, after the obligatory fry-up breakfast roll (black pudding and all), we headed north to St David's, the UK's smallest city (possibly the world's?) and also reportedly home to a burgeoning surf scene. On arriving we found a beautifully quaint town, with an impressive Cathedral, but no Bondi. Though, that is not to say we didn't enjoy exploring the by now standard convuluted winding lanes, in fact it quite probably was our favourite village that we visited.

The beaches are actually some distance from town, liking the sound of Whitesands (and remembering the following quote from the BBC "a tourist expert who devised a mathematical formula to calculate the best beaches in the world ranked Whitesands in Pembrokeshire in his top 20.") we headed out with hopes high. However, despite the unusually clear skies, there was to be no swimming, or even poking of toes in the water, as the wind was howling and rocky slope to the water didn't look all that inviting... in our opinion, if you have to build a shelter to protect yourself from the wind, you really should consider whether it is the right time to be at the beach. Although perhaps this just typifies our softness and we do have respect for the hardy souls who were taking on the ripples despite the less than perfect conditions... we reflected on this as we sat shivering in our down jackets... Our aversion to cold weather bathing probably gives the impression that we didn't like what we saw, which is wrong, as despite not being in our top 20 (perhaps that mathematical formula needs revising) the beach was somewhat Byron like wedged in a small cove between craggy cliffs.

Harbour by night

Hobbes with Pen-Y-Fan in the distance

Not being inclined to take a dip we instead decided to take a walk (or should that be ramble) around the adjacent headland, at the end of which the wind abated and we were able to enjoy the unseasonal sunshine and perfectly clear skies. We even spotted some dolphins in the waters below further supporting our Byron comparisons (it wasn't just homesickness!). Unfortunately for Aimes, the sight of a couple of hundred metres tall hill not far from the headland demanded an ascent, which slightly delayed our wind blown organic icecream...

It is remiss of us to neglect mentioning that on the way to St David's we were lured into a detour from the A477 by the sight of Carew Castle, highlighting the benefit of having your own wheels! Unfortunately the neighbouring tidal mill was closed, resulting in a missed opportunity for Hobbes to attempt to bore people with useless hydraulic anecdotes...

Strumble Head on the North Pembrokeshire Coast

A steep ascent of Cribyn

On the way back to Tenby we stopped a little pub (as you do after a ramble) we had passed on the way out. Located at the end of a small inlet filled with boats (now wallowing in the mud with the tide having receeded), it was not the setting but the sponsoring by Brains that really attracted us. Now, as the only real way to experience a culture is to sample it's beer, it was with a great deal of expectation that we ordered a glass of Brains. Knowing nothing more than that it has a cool name and sponsors the Welsh Rugby team, Hobbes was expecting a lot. We are happy to report that it exceeded expectations and is something like a better version of Kilkenny (and as mentioned having a better name). This revealed the downside to having your own wheels - only one pint could be consumed before continuing back to Tenby. Actually, the importance of limiting it to one pint was highlighted by the surely inebriated fool who clipped our mirror while we were waiting to turn into the pub carpark...

St Govans Chapel

Ministry of Silly Hats

Sunday gave us an unexpected trifecta of sunny days, which we began with a drive out to see St Govans Chapel (being Easter Sunday and all) a tiny 800 year old building located at the base of a coastal chasm (apparently a perfect location for a naval firing range). From here it was up to Fishguard and a stretch of Pemborkeshire coastline that was reportedly amongst the most spectacular about. This gave us the opportunity to do a bit more walking and work on our sunburn/wind burn (yes our pasty-white complexions are comming along nicely).

Morris Minors

Carew Castle

The slowly lengthening days gave us the opportunity to make a dash for one more activity for the day, a visit to the Carreg Cennen Castle on route to Brecon. On route we stopped at a pub in Newport (which happens to be the birthplace of Hobbes' great, great, great, great grandfather), although not for the first time having missed the 2pm lunch it was cheese sandwiches and ale (rather than the hoped for pie). Carreg Cennen Castle lived up to its billing of the most impressively sited castle in Wales, perched a top a cliff top bringing back memories of Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur (just replace the sprawling metropolis teeming with people with peaceful green fields and a scattering of sheep).

Strumble Head Lighthouse on St Michael's Island

Coastal scenery near St David's

Arriving at the packed campground in Brecon we set up the tent on our assigned 3 x 5 plot of grass before retiring for a beer and dinner at the fortuitously located Barn restaurant. Thinking we would need to book ahead to secure a table on Easter Sunday we made our booking without considering the location relative to where we would be staying, only to find that we had a full 200m walk to endure. The only downside was the lack of Brains on the beer menu, still this was made up for by the long awaited seafood and welsh lamb meal that we were still craving from the night before, with the added benefit that no driving meant more beers :)

Rent a windbreak for a quid at Whitesands Beach

St David's Cathedral

Monday morning in Brecon was a very quiet affair, but we eventually fpound somewhere to eat before heading out to the heart of the Brecon Beacons where we were to make an assault on Pen-Y-Fan (aka the tallest mountain south of Snowdonia). Arriving at a rocky section of the lane and recalling the guilt trip performed by the woman at the Europcar counter for us not taking the £30 option to lower our excess, we decided that there wasn't going to be any not-my car action. Getting a wheel off the ground while attempting an Austin Powers-esque 39 point turn, assured us that we had made the right decision, and we commenced our walk. As we walked up the rocky path we reminisced about how Penny Pulsar would have handled the terrain with ease and that they don't make 2wd hatches like they did back in 1990...

Tenby Harbour by night

Celtic Cross in Carew

Anyways, it wasn't long before we realised we had taken the wrong lane and that we were walking up the wrong ridge, although it wasn't until we arrived at the top that we worked out where we had supposed to be going. Fortunately the landscape was sufficiently paddock-like to allow us to break our own trail and actually gave us a better view of our originally proposed peak, than the actual track would have. After a heavy slog through the steep field, we arrived at the base of some very steep territory which was basically steps up a sharp ridge, in many ways reminiscent of the Sentinel in the Koz. Despite some bemused looks from those already at the top, we got up in about 20 minutes after half a dozen rest breaks to find flat slopes approaching the peak up the southern face. Standing a top what we later found to be named the Cribyn we looked at those already at the top with a sense of superiority after having reached this point via the treacherous southern face (it was either this or feel stoopid for getting lost).

Aimes takes a rest with Cribyn and Pen-Y-Fan in the distance

As we confirmed we had just walked up the wrong mountain, with Pen-Y-Fan proudly standing a full 50m taller some few hundred metres to the west, the altitude was obviously affecting us, and we decided to have a shot at our original target. After some knee jarring on the way down and back up the other side of the saddle, we had ascended both mountains without too much trouble considering our recent dire lack of practice. Like the Koz on an Easter Monday it was pretty crowded on top, with the British phenomenon of people going hiking with three generations of family and their dogs in tow being well represented.

Mumbles Pier

Coastguard

Not long after finishing off our lunch on top of Pen-Y-Fan, the sunny weather which we had experienced for the past 3 and a half days decided it had stuck around for long enough and the clouds rolled in. This prompted a quick retreat, requiring us to traverse a narrow path cut into the side of the mountain. Bringing back further memories of the Sentinel, some grip concerns were raised however were quickly erased on remembering that we were now all equipped with Contragrip. As a result neither of us had too many troubles and but for some minor knee soreness from the extended rapid decent we were back in the car without too many problems.

The drive back was surprisingly painless and Hobbes managed to keep his stress levels at a low simmer most of the way back to London...

'dam you!

Having not set foot on the continent for four months, it was not before time that we took a couple of days off to visit Amsterdam last weekend. After too long in London, our initial impressions were that of space, quiet and cleanliness, impressions that were only confirmed the longer we stayed...

Museumplein

Canal of fire

In a town reminiscent of Melbourne (particularly the cafes and shops in the Jordaan and Utrechtsestratt areas, though maybe it's just the trams?), we thought it only right that we had numerous, extended sampling of the cafe culture which is so lacking in London. Not deterred by the lack of chain-establishments, we put in the hard yards sampling what real food and coffee should taste-like. The culinary highlight being undoubtably the heavy influence of Indonesian food, which seems part of pretty much every menu. Though our soft, non-spice eating english palates (and digestive systems) had more trouble than they should have, which caused us some concern regarding how we'll deal with real food on our return home...

Aimes and Crista at the Albert Cruyp Market

City of bikes

We also caught up with our friends Crista and Ruben who we met travelling in Laos some 3 years ago now. As well as being great to catch up after so long, visiting their place allowed us to see the non-touristic side of the Dam, one which is filled with open windows, stacks of bikes and some very tall timber. While acknowleding that both of us may be slightly vertically challenged, it was still a shock to venture into their local to find that we must have missed the sign saying that you must be taller than 6''6' to enter...

Crista also accompanied us to the Albert Cruyp Street Market where we were able to sample the traditional dutch cuisine of smoked herrings, stroopwaffles and frites and mayonnaise (or should that be mayonnaise and frites?).

Tilting houses and 'lifts' which are apparently still used when moving in - very cool!

When in Amsterdam...
Ruben, Christa and Hobbes
Queuing for the much loved mayonnaise and frites

Being first timers we tried to fit in some of the prerequisite Amsterdam sight seeing in between our relaxing, taking in the Riyksmuseum (impressive even though part closed), the Van Gogh Museum (not bad) and the Heineken Brewery (a whole lot of nothing...). Being a very walkable city we ended up covering what is now our standard several kilometres a day checking out the various neighbourhoods, and (importantly) managing to avoid being run down by any trams, cyclists or cars, which could not be taken for granted.

Despite having the best 4 days of the year, it wasn't all sunshine
A is for Amy