Author: Kate Wilson

The Chunnel

~ Kate Wilson ~ 4 Comments

It all went incredibly quickly.

We arrived at the terminal and took Duna through to the animal checkin.  A slightly offhand French woman looked at her passport and handed me the machine to check the microchip. After a bit of faffing about and panicking I found it and the machine went ping.  And that was that.
‘Bon Voyage!’
We took the car past the ticket machine which weirdly knew who I was without having to punch in any codes, opted for the earlier departure, bought some last French pastries and drove onto the next train. It’s not like Eurostar – no lovely buffet nor fancy seats. You sit in your car in a narrow coach and after 30 minutes or so, you arrive in England!

We tried to drive to London without joining the M20.   After an hour or so of pretty Kentish lanes, we had a drink and a picnic outside the Good Intent pub where Duna had her first run on UK grass

Then we gave in and drove to London on the motorway. As we have to pay the congestion charge tonight we took the opportunuity of driving through the centre, over Westminster Bridge, past Big Ben and Buckingham Palace – all a bit strange and dreamlike after waking this morning in the French countryside with cocks crowing all around.
Now Duna is fast asleep on the lovely rug my friend Ana thoughtfully put out for her. and we will sleep in a real bed again.




The Journey

~ Kate Wilson ~ 1 Comment

We are still on the road – after so many kilometres and so many countries I can’t get my head straight to do a diary that is linear. So here are some memories of the journey – in no order whatsoever, I’m afraid, and sent out in little portions as tonight I have internet but tomorrow perhaps will be again far from a wifi zone!
After Tuscany we traveled up to the north of Italy and arrived at Lake Maggiore to find it was an Italian holiday and the campsites were full of parties and music. We got a space near the water – close enough to hear the ‘lake water lapping with low sounds’ but there was a row of touring caravans hogging the best spots right by the edge.
There were two parties – one a Beatles revival and the other an old time dance night with a saxophone and a singer.  It made an interesting mixture of music.
We were surprised awake around midnight by the sound of one of the ‘respectable’ elderly dancers pissing over the wall rather close to our tent! 
Otherwise it was a good stop and a place to return to ….one day.

The next morning we couldn’t resist visiting the Sanctuary of Saint Catherine of Sasso. The hermitage was founded in the 12th century by a merchant who almost died in a shipwreck but was rescued after calling on Saint Catherine of Aexandria. Obviously this interests me because of our shared name but it was also a coincidence as I was talking in Tuscany to my sisters about which saint Catherine to adopt as my namesake. It is very common in Catalunya to be named after a saint and to celebrate on your saints day. Catherine of Siena seemed too rigid and pompous and I was pulling towards Catherine of Alexandria who is the patron saint of Philosophers and Preachers and who apparently asked God in her dying breath to help all who call on her name. This beautiful place seemed to suggest she is the right one for me!  My saints day will be November 25th so I am hoping for lots of messages – Per Molts Anys!!!!

Pet Passport

~ Kate Wilson ~ 2 Comments

The visit to the vet in Ardres.  Dogs get worried about that sort of thing! Especially when someone left their new lead on a bush in the last campsite so they are walking in towns attached to a long green cord.


But it was simple in the end – a dose of worming treatment and a squoosh of flea ointment. Tomorrow we will find out if the passport is all correct when we check in for the Channel Tunnel.
Ardres is a pretty town but I was shocked to see how many shops have closed and it wasn’t easy to find a cafe open for breakfast. I know you can’t get a croissant after 10am in France but we were nice and early this time.

We asked someone to direct us to some shops to buy food and he told us we needed to go to the big supermarket outside of town!
Sorry about the long absence – on the road, no wifi and no time to find it. But now we are nearing the end of the second stage of the trip!  Or is it the third stage?  Who knows – I don’t even know which day it is any more but I do know that tomorrow we take the train under the English channel.


the longest day

~ Kate Wilson ~ 3 Comments

We were so relaxed after the beautiful swimming pool that we couldn’t get the necessary push to do our 300 km the next day. So we travelled 100 instead to Nice and met up with my sister and family who were also on their way to Tuscany and the birthday party. The campsite at Cagnes Sur Mer is nothing special but our luck held out and they found us a place although they were full!
The next day we paid the price of our ‘pausa’ and had the longest journey of the trip so far. My sisters family took a sardine tin  train trip to Ventimiglia on the Italian side of the border.
We drove there and also got caught up in the weekly market crowds

Driving through Genova was another mistake –  a futuristic nightmare of tangled roads on stilts which never ended.  I was the passenger and spent most of the time with my eyes closed.
We were aiming for the Cinque Terres – five small seaside towns  which are part of a marine nature reserve.

If I say the words bends, mountains and tunnels perhaps this will give an idea of this part of the journey.  There was a series of tunnels only the width of a car which was exciting at first but became claustrophobic when the darkness never ended.
The road was beautiful and different from anything else on the trip so far

but time was racing on and as darkness fell we still didn’t have anywhere to camp.

Some sites were full. Others said ‘no dogs’.  I felt my heart sinking with each rejection and was impressed by Pep’s never ending optimism. At time like these it is good to have different personalities.
Just as we began to accept the idea of sleeping in the car we found the campsite Saint Michele – thanks I am sure to the same benign saintly presence who takes care of Penzance and Sant Michaels Mount.
Lovely people, dogs welcome, a relaxed and hippy atmosphere and although all our tents were tightly packed into a very small space,   it felt like the best campsite yet.

There is something about camping that feels medieval to me – the footsteps passing in the night, sounds of voices and snores and wheezes and sneezes, walking to the communal areas for water and washing, sleeping on the firm ground with your dog at your side.

Finding this place was like a miracle – finding somewhere to lie down at the end of a long day of spinning round corners, creeping through dark tunnels and careering down hills chased by Vespa scooters can not be felt as anything other than miraculous!
And to top it all, this place was the only campsite we found with hooks on the toilet doors – something so simple can make all the difference.  No need to pee while balancing my bag on my knees.

We woke to the sound of church bells echoing around the Tuscan valley – beautiful.