It was hard to believe there were two weeks left before our campervanning adventure in Europe would be over. Our ferry crossing to the UK was booked and our plans for the UK leg of our tour were falling into place, and they didn’t include the campervan. Being a left-hand drive and quite large we decided a while ago that we would part company with the van on our return to England and continue by car.
We still had a couple of places on our “to-see” list on the continent; the first being Luxembourg and the other, Passchendaele in Belgium where Andrew’s grandfather had fought in WWI, and we wanted to swing back into Germany to see my Aunt and Uncle again as well. So, with mixed emotions we headed into our final two weeks.
Luxembourg
After a lovely afternoon touring the Pommery Champagne house in Reims we left France, driving into Belgium and across to Luxembourg. It was quite exciting as we were adding another country to the list – Luxembourg is the 28th country we have visited on our European tour. We’re counting Sardinia and Sicily as separate countries because they’re across the water from Italy and, particularly in the case of Sardinia, are quite different from the mainland.
Since leaving Paris that morning the weather had improved markedly, and it was a warm clear evening when we arrived. That was the start of a lovely spate of weather that lasted almost the entire two weeks.
Our campsite was in the outlying suburbs of Luxembourg City next to the Alzette River. It was a lovely location and one of the better campsites we’d stayed at.
Luxembourg is great for cycling and the next morning we biked along a picturesque path that followed the river for 10kms into the old part of the city. Runners and cyclists were out in force, making the most of the great weather.
Our first impressions of Luxembourg were of a very clean, green and prosperous place. It’s a small country in area and the population is also small – just under 600,000 people live in the world’s last remaining grand duchy, 110,000 of whom live in the capital. In case you’re wondering, a grand duchy is a where the official head of state or ruler is a monarch bearing the title of grand duke or grand duchess.
We found a place to leave our bikes and took the elevator up to La Haute Ville, “the upper town”, sitting at the top of the cliff. Luxembourg is a pretty city with picturesque squares, quaint back alleys, buildings that look like they are straight from a storybook, majestic boulevards and beautifully manicured parks. Having been in existence for over a thousand years it is steeped in history with many beautiful historic buildings from across the centuries, but it is very much a thriving modern city; the cars are flashy, the shops are luxurious and the populous are well dressed and ooze affluence. This isn’t surprising given it is home of many EU government institutions including the Court of Justice and the European Investment Bank.
The geography of the city is quite remarkable. It sits on the top of steep gorges cut out by the Alzette and Pétrusse rivers with bridges connecting the town across the ravines. It is this natural protection that proved ideal for building further fortifications – the first built in 963. Over the following centuries these mighty fortifications were fought over and became the stronghold of whichever army occupied the area and was vying for military control over Western Europe. Once stretching over 180 hectares the fortifications were finally demolished in the late 19th century to prevent any further conflict and today only the Bock Casements remain. It is now considered one of the most important fortified sites in Europe and is classified as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. You can take a tour through the vast complex of underground tunnels below the fortifications, but we opted to stay above ground and walk across the fortress to admire the view back to La Haute Ville.
Not far from the fortifications is Le Chemin de La Ccorniche, a viewing platform often called Europe’s most beautiful balcony. From here you can appreciate the magnificence of the fortifications built in the cliffside and look over the valley to the charming riverside Grund district below, with its picturesque church and quaint medieval houses.
It’s not a big city and is easy to explore on foot. After a full day out, we wandered down the hill, found our bikes and pedalled along the leafy trail back to the campsite.
Back to Germany
The sky was sparkling blue and the countryside a vivid green as we drove from Luxembourg through to Germany and along the Moselle River. This is a beautiful part of Germany. We’d been there seven months earlier when my Aunt took us for day trip to Trier and we drove back along the valley through the wineries, but with the weather the way it was we couldn’t resist stopping and spending some more time there. We ended up staying two nights in the Moselle Valley, camping right beside the river. It is stunningly picturesque, with charming half-timbered German villages dotted along the river and vineyards running up the steep sides of the valley, interspersed with a patchwork of woodland. There are bike paths all along the valley and we cycled from one village to the next, stopping for a few wine tastings at the roadside stalls. It was the first time in a while that we’d had lovely summery weather and no pressure to rush around seeing the tourist sites. We were relaxed and content.
Friday was another glorious day and, feeling sun-kissed and refreshed, we headed through to Wahlrod where my Aunt Margaret and Uncle George live. We’d spent a week here in September when we three months into our tour and we loved it – not only for the generous hospitality and great company of our hosts but also the beautiful countryside and surrounds, which we were very much looking forward to seeing in spring. After a harsh winter nature was in overdrive and Margaret’s garden was no exception. It was stunning; in full bloom with and abundance of white flowers and green foliage. The huge cherry tree in the centre of the lawn was heavy with white blossom, and with the white tulips below, the daphne and white rhododendron, combined for a soft, peaceful, spring feel. Being so warm we were able to spend plenty of time sitting outside under the cherry tree enjoying the garden and the birdsong.
However, relaxing was not our priority when we arrived. Our first task was to list the van on UK Autotrader. This was easier said than done. We found out that you need a UK IP address and a UK credit card to submit an ad. I have no idea why this is, maybe to stop “foreigners” selling vehicles in the UK. We panicked. We had a week before we were back in England and needed the van listed so ideally it would sell quickly after our arrival. A delay of a week would upset our plans. Then Andrew had the bright idea of asking his cousin Mark to help. I set the ad up ready to go and Mark obligingly logged into our account from the UK and pressed submit. Within a few hours we had our first enquiry.
The next week was spent getting the van serviced, cleaning it inside and out, and sorting all the “stuff” we’d accumulated in preparation for downsizing for the next leg of our journey. It wasn’t all work, there was time for other activities to, like getting me a much-needed haircut and colour, going for long walks through the beautiful countryside, playing the odd game of scrabble and rummy, and practising tent pitching on the lawn. We are planning on doing some camping in the UK and had bought a tent in France so tried it out in the garden. It took three of us quite a bit of time to work out the instructions and put it together, but we finally managed to create something that looked quite liveable. We’re not sure how much use it’ll get, that will depend on the fickle English summer.
Almost a week had passed and with only a few days left in Europe we said goodbye and with a lot less in the boot headed off in our sparkling clean van.
The Last Post
After a full day of driving we arrived in Ypres (Leper as it’s known in Belgium). Ypres is at the heart of an area that saw some of the biggest battles in the First World War and as it is 100 years since the end of the war we wanted to visit and pay our respects to the many commonwealth soldiers that fought and died there.
The campsite was full. This was only the third time this had happened to us in almost a year on the road. Ypres is a popular place to visit. We were directed to a nearby “Aire” specifically for motorhomes. It had electricity, but not any facilities so our intention of staying two nights was quickly amended.
We biked the short distance into the centre of Ypres and wandered around this picturesque town. Ypres was mostly destroyed in the war and was eventually fully rebuilt, including the historic Cloth Hall and Cathedral. Standing in the town it is hard to believe that most buildings are at most 80 or so years old. The tourist shops were full of WWI memorabilia, craft beer and chocolates, and paper poppies on sticks. We bought two poppies for our visit to the war graves the next day.
It was time for one of those famous Belgian beers. We found a nice Belgian beer house that overlooked the square and tried a local brew.
One of the most important sites in Ypres is the Menin Gate, one of the Memorials to the Missing. It lists the names of 54,332 men who fell in the Ypres Salient and who have no known grave. The names represent the fallen of Britain, Ireland, and what were then the Dominions (apart from New Zealand) up until 16th August 1917. Those with no known grave after that date are recorded at Tyne Cot (including all New Zealanders). As well as a place to visit in its own right, every night at 8pm, the Last Post is played, and a small ceremony takes place at the gate. We had heard it was not to be missed and after a quick Thai dinner made our way there. We didn’t expect the crowds to be as large as they were – Andrew estimated there were well over 500 people gathered. The traffic through the Gate was halted, the crowd was welcomed, there was a moment of silence and then the Last Post was played. It was an incredibly moving experience in a sombre setting and there was not a dry eye around.
The next day we headed to Passchendaele 13 kms away. Our first stop was the museum. Here the story of the war in the Ypres Salient is told with special emphasis on the Battle of Passchendaele in 1917, one of the bloodiest battles of the First World War. Andrew’s grandfather fought in this battle, in the Canadian Army. He was one of the lucky ones, he was injured and sent home.
The museum is an interactive experience with the exhibits helping you to understand what it was like for those fighting on the Western Front. Inside steps took us down into a 6-metre deep reconstruction of a battlefield dugout, complete with headquarters, accommodation, workshop, communication room and first aid post. It was amazing how complex these areas were. Outside are a network of reconstructed trenches, made to look and feel exactly as they would have during the war. Walking through them it’s impossible not to think of the gunfire, the fear, and the smell. The museum was very well done, not glorifying or embellishing, but instead letting those that were there tell their story. It’s a sad story, but one that needs to be told.
Our next stop was the Tyne Cot Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery and Memorial to the Missing, not far from Passchendaele. This is the largest cemetery for Commonwealth forces in the world, for any war. Here there were lots of unnamed New Zealand graves. Lost sons and brothers lying forever in a foreign land. We left a poppy in remembrance.
We left Belgium and drove on to Dunkirk for our last night on the continent, and the last night sleeping in our campervan. The campsite in Dunkirk was right on the beach. We joined the many others and went for an evening walk along the promenade, past the restaurants and bars and brightly coloured retro changing sheds. All along this lively promenade are information boards telling the story of another war. It was from this beach in late May 1940 that around 338,000 British, French and Belgian soldiers were rescued from the hands of the German army and evacuated across the channel. Hundreds of civilians sailed across from England to help with the rescue. Private yachts, motor launches, lifeboats, paddle steamers and barges joined the effort, all the while under attack from German aircraft. Many lost their lives. But, if those troops weren’t rescued the Allies would not have had the manpower and strength to turn around and face the Germans again, and eventually defeat them, and we may not have been enjoying the warm evening on this calm and peaceful beach
The day had arrived. It was time to catch the ferry to Dover. We were both quiet driving to the port, both reflecting on the 11 months that had passed since we’d been on the ferry going the other way, from Dover to Calais. Back then we didn’t know what to expect – would we even be able to live in such a small area for a month, let alone 11? We could, we did, and we loved every minute! What an adventure it’s been. We’ve got many more adventures to come before we head home to New Zealand, but we were still feeling a bit sad and a bit sentimental that those adventures will be without our beloved campervan.
The security guard at the ferry terminal got us laughing again. He was a big, handsome, hunk of a Frenchman and after doing the mandatory search of our camper, turned with a beaming smile and declared: “No Taliban in here!”
