Onwards and Upwards

Back to Marseille

Finally it was time for us to leave Montserrat and charter our way back to Marseille. We saddled up the car again and moved off through Andorra, the Pyrenees and back to Marseille. Adore was a horrible little country, effectively having only two roads, the sides of which are lined with shopping centre after shopping centre and on through to a little town in the Pyrenees recommended by an acquaintance of Liam.

Following a little walking we settled down to a couple of beers and watched the sun set over the mountains. The bar we were in was not actually marked at all and the town was small enough that eventually someone went out into the fields to get the bar owner. It really was more like having a beer in someone’s lounge room than anything else. After 15 minutes of searching the proprietor found the menus and we took his suggestion...which turned out to be lamb chops and chips and after a couple more drinks returned to our camp sites. Unfortunately the horses in the field next to our tent had cow bells on (go figure) and wouldn’t you know it...horses don’t stop walking...ever...and we had a bit of a rough nights sleep waiting for those horses to stop bloody ringing the bells.

Liam cooking breakfast in the Pyrenees

The next morning we drove back to Marseille for a couple of days reprieve and to climb some of the routes we had been eyeing off for a while.


Bizarre story 2: Attack of the pterodactyl.

So Liam and I were climbing one of the classic Calanques routes. A perfect traverse across a sea-cliff. Sometimes 1m above the water, sometimes 30m. We started off abseiling down onto some rocks at water level and pulled the rope down. We then moved off climbing down the cliffs. As I led off one of the pitches I came around a corner to a ledge that was taken up by a bird the size of a pterodactyl sitting on its nest (yes it was THAT big). It spat out the horse that it had been chewing on and proceeded to screech at my like a howling banshee. Being the big girly-man that I am, I fled back around the corner. However, we soon realised we had no other possibilities except abseiling down into the water and swimming the 2-3km back to the beach and I decided to run the gauntlet. I crawled past the nest filled with several beautiful bird eggs and WHOOOSH-CLANG the bird came flying through and struck my helmet with his claws. Having committed myself, I continued to crawl along...WHOOOSH-BASH...WHHOOOSH-CLANG....WHOOOOSH-SPLART. On the last attack the bird decided to crap on me rather than attack and I was sprayed with bird-crap at the end of what Liam described as a "perfect bombing run". Luckily Liam’s bag protected me :-)




Gorges Du Verdon

Thus we left the luxury of having a roof over our head and moved on to the Gorges Du Verdon, a towering limestone canyon filled with a beautiful green/blue river. Here we settled in for 4 days of climbing in the gorge. The camping ground was in the middle of a funky little town with winding tiny streets and lovely old brick buildings. Due to the size of the gorge, the only way you can climb here is to abseil down onto a ledge (hopefully) with 4-500m of sucking vacuum below you. Then you pull the rope down behind you and your left alone in the middle of nowhere, its up or nothing, and out you climb. The more exciting option is to 'walk' down into the gorge and climb the massive sheer cliffs out to the top and the bar. It was fantastic here, the ambience was amazing and we profited certainly from our stay here. This was made even better by the discovery of Koningsbeer, which was a Dutch beer that sells for E2.30 for 10 bottles!!! Cheaper than water, or at least tastier.

Then, one afternoon, everything changed. We heard a distant rumbling and all of a sudden a thousand camper-vans and cars rolled in. From these cars 100s of Italians poured out and settled in. It was the start of the holiday season in Italy.

Thus we jumped in the car and aimed it in the direction of Genoa. Surely with the number of Italians here we would have their country to ourselves.


Bizarre story 3:Breakfast at Tiffanies
Thus we began the longest driving leg of the trip. About 800km. We drove out of Verdon in the early evening with the objective of stopping somewhere on the side of the road just outside Nice. However, we soon realised how densely populated the region was and this might be a bit of a challenge. In the end we picked a green spot on our map and aimed for that. We slowly drove past richer and richer mansions until we came to a small entrance to a forest and stopped for the night. We had only just got out of the car when a man with a dog the size of a horse came walking over and demanded to know what we were doing. After some explanations he said it was illegal to camp here, but he would let us, so long as we left no mess. A little shaken, Liam and I quickly started to prepare some dinner (it was close to midnight) and as we did this the man returned with some solar powered lights for us to cook by. Things were looking up. The next morning we were woken by a tapping at the tent door at 6am, the man had returned with a tray laid out with cups of espresso machine full of coffee, sugar and a jug of milk. Unfortunately he said, we had to go as hunters would arrive soon and they might be less friendly. Coming over to his house we found that he was a hobo also living in the woods, he had built a house out of wood, rocks and tarpaulins. An entire garden and set of tables and chairs was made out of bush rocks with moss on it and he spent his days painting pictures.

Onwards to Italy
Thus we passed into Nice for a beautiful morning swimming on their famous beach and eating traditional delicacies from the region in the bustling old-quater.

View along the beach in Nice

We passed through Monaco without stopping or seeing a Ferrari and continued across the border into Italy. From here we pushed long and hard into Italy eventually reaching a renowned national park called Cinque-Terre. Surely we could camp in such a national park...We were astounded to discover a massive tourist trap, full with 100s of tourists, restaurants, bars, and music. The walking trails were all on paved walkways and you had to pay to use them. Certainly not what we were expecting. Finally we jumped the fence off onto a closed off island and setup camp. Apparently we weren’t the only people with this idea and we were soon joined by a group of Lithuanian students. Unfortunately it was not to be a restful night as a band started up on the opposite shore of the lake in a natural amphitheatre...pointed directly at our camp site.

The next morning we packed out again and pushed off towards Arco in the north of Italy.

Cinque-Terre National Park. Which translates to the 5 towns, not 5 lands and seems logical