Beaune, France – Oct. 21-26, 2012

More (not terribly interesting) pictures here!

On good advice from a great friend, we spent our final days with Salt & Pepper cruising around the picturesque Bourgogne region, carefully balancing our need to taste wine with our need to make it to the next stop.  Upon arrival in Beaune, the weather was cold and rainy so we decided to start out with a few hours underground in the Marche aux Vins.

We opted for the self-guided tour through multiple wine tasting stations but didn’t find much that interested us until we sat down with Laurent in a private room and he pulled out the really good stuff.  We typically enjoy a heavier wine than is found in the Burgandy region but Laurent managed to find enough interesting Pinots and even a few whites for us to send a case back home.

The following day we had a tasting appointment at La Cave L’Ange Guardien where we were charmed by Pierre, a delightful host who introduced us to many wines from the region (and one from the Cote du Rhone) as their own had been sold out for the season.   We ended up shipping home two cases, one entirely of a Rare Brut Cremant; well, 11 of the Cremant and one bottle of Cassis in order to duplicate the delicious Kir Royale which ended our tasting.  Rushing from the tasting we barely had time to change before making our reservation at Le Cheval Noir where our fantastic meal (with wine parings) was marred by the poor service.

We took a night away from Salt and drove up through the hills leaving the Cote de Beaune area for the Cote de Nuits and spending a night at the Hotel de Vougeot in the village of, you guessed it, Vougeot.  The weather was an uncooperative low-cloud misty Seattle kind of day which almost erased the awe factor in the sightseeing department.  We were hoping a visit to the Chateau Vougeot would shed some light on the many Grand Crus we had sent home from this region, but, alas, the Chateau is now just a museum.

With our sights set on our Paris flat, and Pepper loaded with wines for the month, we headed up to Paris staying four nights at the perfectly located Camping Bois de Boulogne.  Knowing we had a month ahead of us to “do” Paris from the comfort of a warm flat, we used all our days at the campground to prep Salt & Pepper for their boat trip home—more on that in the next Musings. 

I am quite behind in my blog postings but having arrived in our flat all I can find time to do is walk and walk and walk.  Ok, and shop.  And shop.  And maybe just one more shop.

-K

Florence, Italy – Sept. 27-28, 2012

A couple of more pictures here.

The trouble with staying in a five-star hotel is that you never want to leave.  Your room.  Ever.  Even for a minute.  Add a balcony overlooking one of the most visited sites in Florence, Ponte Vecchio, and you can see why we rarely got out of the Lungarno Hotel's thick terry robes and slippers.

But we did get out:  We bumped our way along the crowded, narrow and often smelly streets (so many dogs and very rarely any grass or trees!) to visit Il Davide (not The David), the jewelry shops on Ponte Vecchio, the Boboli Gardens (“No Dogs!”) from the outside and discovered an out of the way vegetarian restaurant that was divine, 5 e Cinque.  (Black cabbage sautéed in olive oil and garlic is now often on our Salt menu.)

Thursday afternoon, while enjoying hors d’oeuvres in a small, family run café next to the hotel, the owner approached the table displaying cuts of cheese on his palm.  He wanted to share the cheeses with The Noses.  We politely declined, trying to communicate that they are not allowed to be fed from the table (this is why everyone thinks they are so wonderful in restaurants; all The Noses know about being there is that they have a temporary dog house under the table for an hour or so); he returned to the kitchen heart-broken and maybe even a little disgusted. 

On our way out, I mentioned that they could have some cheese now, near the street.  He fed and fed them until, fearing a night filled with intestinal reprisals, I called it to an end.  To show our appreciation, I “shot” Rosco and he immediately fell over and played dead.  Love that trick!  The owner was delighted.

Upon leaving the hotel, the owner of the café saw us piling into Pepper (don’t get me started on driving Pepper through Florence!); running over he aimed his hand through the back window and tried to shoot Rosco.  With no cheese at hand, Rosco declined a repeat performance.

And so we put Florence in the package with Venice:  Return without Noses and when we might have more patience for standing shoulder to shoulder, back to front, trying to ignore a stranger’s breath on our necks, in order to gaze at wonderful art.

This posting finds us sitting in Campeggio Acqua Dolce in Levanto, Italy, just outside of Cinque Terre.  A torrential rain is upon us and we aren’t sure if we will be able to maneuver our way out of our pitch unless everyone else in the row leaves.  (I would not be surprised if there is a YouTube video floating around of us getting into the pitch—our repeat performances continued for quite some time after which we needed something much stronger than cheese.) 

Thankfully, Salt’s roof is leak-free, the rain is due to stop in a day or so and we are surrounded by breath-taking seaside and mountain hiking opportunities.  We can hardly wait to get out there, although many of the main paths between the towns are closed due to a landslide.  Yes, Mobom, we'll be careful.

-K

Salzburg, Austria – Sept. 2-3, 2012

More pictures here!

One of our readers asked if we missed enjoying activities as a couple due to having The Noses with us, referring to visiting museums and the like.  On the few occasions when this has come up, it hasn’t been a hardship to separate for a few hours and enjoy some time alone.  Most commonly though, having The Noses with us broadens our experience of an area, often leading to spots with fewer tourists and more nature; our visit to Salzburg was no exception.

Although it was time for our stay in a hotel anyway, Salt's leaking roof made heading to Salzburg’s Wolf Dietrich hotel that much more appealing.  Yes, during the last rain storm in Austria, Salt sprung not one or two, but three leaks.  We were forced to go out into the deluge and string a bright blue tarp over her top (well, SP was forced . . . I was going to do it with or without him.)  As SP said, “We went from the upscale Americans with the fancy car and trailer to White Trash in 15 minutes.”  So with caulking supplies on order, we locked up Salt, gathered The Noses and treated Pepper to some fast driving up the A10 to Salzburg.

First of all, the drive from Dobriach to Salzburg is gorgeous, rivaling that of Canada’s Highway 1 through Banff.  It was a quick hour and half drive to our lovely hotel, The Wolf Deitrich, which I highly recommend:  It sits across the river from the touristy “Old Town” section of Salzburg amongst appealing local shops and restaurants. The staff was welcoming and the service is excellent; offering a well-stocked breakfast and a coffee/tea service each afternoon in their charming bar.  (Note that our room was not a typical room, they have more ordinarily decorated rooms as well.)

The “Old Town” is filled with new fashion stores and most of the tourists.  The small pedestrian-only streets are charming if you can get around the people and enjoy walking at a tourist pace; neither of which we tolerate very well.  To get above the crowd, we quickly jumped on a horse-drawn carriage (Noses included, of course!) and were heartedly entertained by our driver during our 20 minute tour. 

For our full day we headed up to the fortress eschewing the funicular and opting for exercise—and exercise it was!  The hike up the hill had us dripping in sweat by the time we were reading the “No Dogs Allowed” sign at the entrance gate. 

Having seen a lady coming around the outside walls with a Labrador we thought perhaps there was a trail around the fortress that we could enjoy.  It turns out that there are a myriad of trails running through the woods surrounding the fortress.  It was the highlight of our trip; the Noses running free and racing around the top of the hill as we paused every so often to enjoy some coffee, warm apple strudel, and the fantastic views back down over the city.

And so we got something out of Salzburg that we never would have had we arrived at those gates without The Noses.  Truth be told, we are not great museum or tourist attraction fans so it is not difficult to pass up most of the sites, particularly when they are so crowded.  I expect this to change when we reach Florence and Paris where we will need to alternate viewing days in order to enjoy David and the infamous Don't-You-Dare-Call-Me-Mona, Ms. Lisa. 

But as I mentioned above, after a year of living in 19’, a day alone isn’t so bad.

-K

Switzerland, Part One (Geneva and Kanderstag) – July 23-31, 2012

More pictures here, but they do not do the area justice .. .

“What time is it?”, asked SP.

“About 12:15--no wait, that was in French Swiss, it is 12:13 and 40 seconds in German Swiss”, I replied.

SP retorted, holding his hand out, palm up, “That will be ten francs!”

That exchange pretty much sums up our first week in Switzerland.  We have discovered that there is a French part and a German part and never the twain shall meet, except, of course, when charging you an exorbitant amount of money for, well, everything.  A tall Americano at Starbucks was $5.40; I kid you not.  And since the Swiss Franc is almost on par with the US Dollar, there is no savings to be had upon conversion.

So we decided to put the cost of Switzerland behind us in order to enjoy the beauty around us. 

With Pepper locked away at the Geneva Porsche repair shop for longer than anticipated (new brake pads [Salt is heavy!], three new tires to match the one purchased in Spain after our blow-out, oil change and about 300 other little things that were bothering us, including fixing our steering issue at high speeds—it wasn’t just us, there was a problem) we decided to leave the city for the Alps and head to Kanderstag via bus and train for two nights at the Alfa Soleil Hotel.

But first a note on Geneva:  We have been there before so it was nice to feel a little at home.  Our campground fee came with free bus passes (including two for The Noses!) and getting to downtown from the campground was a breeze.  SP took a day alone and visited CERN and I took the next one and headed downtown for some shopping.  (Finally!  A new town outfit!)  We spent one day bussing to a gondola and then up the mountainside for a delightful lunch overlooking the city.  We were surprised at the value of the Plat du Jour until we realized that we had crossed back into France.

I cannot rave about Geneva, it is not very picturesque (hence no photos in the link above) and we happened to be there when it was over 30/90 every day.  One or two days is plenty, which is why, when Day 4 arrived and we knew that we couldn’t free the Pepper, we decided to head to the mountains.

Upon arriving at the train station, we realized that SP had only priced our train tickets with one-way options--and we had thought that was expensive!  So our train budget immediately had to double.  Actually, we would have saved a lot of money had we forfeited the non-refundable hotel room and just returned to Salt, but that was unappealing after anticipating the fresh mountain air and healthy hikes.  So we pulled out the Amex and jumped on board.

I cannot say enough about the Hotel Alfa Soleil (you can see our review here on Trip Advisor), the service was exceptional and the food in Nico’s  Restaurant (run by the son) was a delight; often fresh from the garden and Lake Thun.  They pride themselves on using local ingredients so don’t be surprised to learn that the chicken you are enjoying grew up next door.

As for hiking, well, the weather was as poor as expected but we did take the gondola up to Oeschinensee Lake for a quick four mile hike the day we arrived, returning to the hotel drenched from a thunder storm.  The next day we set off for Gemmipass which started with a bus ride ($30 round trip) to a gondola ($60 round trip) and then a nice long hike, strenuous in a few areas, reaching the pass after six miles. 

Over coffee in the restaurant at the pass, SP asked, “What time does the gondola stop running?”  With my stomach dropping, I looked it up on the map and the last run was at 6:00 p.m.  It was 4:30 and we were six miles from the gondola.  This was not good.  So we brainstormed some options:

1)      Take a different gondola down the other side of the pass, drop into the town, search for a bus and then a train back to Kanderstag (not to mention searching for a credit card with some limit still on it), hoping that the trains will run that late on a Sunday night; or

2)      Walk back the way we came, obviously forgoing the gondola as we would never make it back by 6:00, adding another two miles straight down the mountain to our already sore feet; making our total hike over 14 miles, or 23 KM.  Not to mention it was likely to end in the dark.

So . . . after seeing the look on the nice French people at the table next to us when I asked about a bus and train combination back to Kanderstag from the opposite side of the mountain (deep breath in, slow blowing out of air through billowing cheeks, a slight rolling of the eyes which terminated in looks of pity; universal meaning:  “You are up #*%! creek”) we opted for going back the way we came.

It was a long, long hike. The fog rolled in and for most of the way back we could only see about five feet in front of us.  With aching knees and two very tired Noses, we dragged ourselves to the bus stop only to find that we had missed the last bus.  It was 9:00 p.m.  Desperate, we opted to ask for a taxi at the closed, but still occupied, restaurant next door. 

The workers were having a drink at the end of their day when I knocked on the window.  They spoke no French and no English and I spoke no German but we managed “taxi”, “Hotel Alfa Soleil” and “ten minutes.”  Apparently a nice lady would give us a ride on her way home.  But while we waited outside, I noticed her peak out the window and take notice of The Noses.  The curtain sharply closed and I feared our ride was over.  At this point, tired and aching, I had no choice but to pimp out SP.

That’s right, I asked him to stand up and limp around making sure they could see his brace in the glare from the street lamp.  He rolled up his shorts a bit to completely expose the brace; we had no shame. 

Out came a gentleman, who, after laying a blanket in the back of his car, invited the dogs inside.  We climbed in the back seat and he then proceeded to follow the nice lady’s car back to Kanderstag to our hotel.  We were eternally grateful and, just like the French families’ looks of “!*(# creek”, I am sure he could read ours of, “You saved us.”

Upon entering the hotel we were warmly greeted and invited to enjoy dinner even allowing time for a quick shower.  Incredible service, like I said.  We kept the kitchen crew up later than normal but were just as enthralled with dinner and the service as the night before.  I opted for the home-made pesto pasta—yes, fresh basil was actually ground into the pasta dough—delicious! And we thoroughly enjoyed a local wine recommendation from the host.

You can imagine how difficult the next day was; not only did we have to get up (ouch), pack (sweaty, stinky hiking clothes), and leave our gorgeous room but we then had to put our packs back on, walk to the train station, take two trains and a bus to get back to Geneva—all in time to pick up Pepper.  But hey, if you have to arrive somewhere exhausted, why not a Porsche showroom?  Leather couches, fresh coffee, juice and a small rug for a little Crazy Dog.  Oh yes he did.

By 5:30 Pepper was ready and wow, is he running like a dream!  We have landed in Chateau D’Oex, a lovely village nestled at the base of the Alps.  We have two hikes planned but unless they completely knock our socks off, we are likely to head to the Italian Dolomites where we might just be able to afford a latte.  Maybe even a Grande this time.

-K

Antibes & Tour de France – July 10-13, 2012

More pictures here!

Usually when we stop for more than a week in one spot I quickly run out of news to post.  That is not the case with Week #2 in Landry, France.  Three (yes three!) good friends and a Tour de France sighting quickly added up to a very busy week.

The day after Judy left we packed The Noses into the Pepper and headed to the Cote d’Azur to meet up with Taylor & Cindy in Antibes.  As Google maps said it was only 5 ½ hours we thought we’d take a more scenic route down; leaving Salt behind, we started with a climb up through the Col de Petit St. Bernard and over into Italy.  Why wasn’t I making a scenic drive video?  Mostly because when I could tear my eyes away from the narrow, winding road, I just gaped at the incredible scenery.  It really is unfair of one country to have so much beauty.

On the other side of the Col we landed in La Thuile, Italy, a charming town in its own right, before jumping onto the motorway and heading straight down to the coast stopping only for some coffee--no one makes coffee like the Italians.

The drive eventually took us south along the Mediterranean coast, passing under (yes, unfortunately under) Monaco (this area is filled with tunnels, so the sightseeing was not what I was hoping for) arriving at the Vogue Hotel in Cap d’Antibes by 4:00 p.m. – 7.5 hours on the road.  A quick shower and we drove over to what will forever be called, “River’s Heaven.”

Taylor & Cindy were staying with some friends in a villa in Antibes; could it get better for The Noses than a palm tree filled yard (it was back to 30/90 down at the coast) with real grass and a fully fenced yard?  Oh yes it could:   All the people in the villa were dog lovers.  And I mean lovers.  Every time I looked for River she was either playing with people at the edge of the pool or laying under a palm tree being petted.  (Rosco, who most of you know doesn’t give a lick about affection, found his own heaven by routing through the garden in search of moles and then sleeping out in the pool house.)

We had a delightful candlelit dinner outside on the patio, complete with fresh flowers and intelligent conversation (all of which we could understand!) before having to drag River away.  I am quite sure everyone, including River, thought she should become the Villa Chien.  The following morning, when we stopped by to pick up Taylor and Cindy for our trip to Cannes, I let River loose at the gate and she bounded up the steps to receive her morning love; free from the apparently torturous experience of staying with us overnight.

The beaches in Antibes and Cannes were crowded beyond belief (like Main Beach in Laguna during the summer) and the restaurants and shops are more on the tacky side until you reach Cannes.  Cannes is Beverly Hills and the port at St. Barth’s rolled into one.  We filled up on our gorgeous car and yacht sightings before settling down to a delicious lunch in a small café tucked down a quiet side street.  As fun as the previous night was, it was a delight to have Taylor and Cindy to ourselves despite suffering, as most of us were, through our hangovers.

We headed back home via a faster route (back through Grenoble) but didn’t reach Salt until after 10.  The alarm went off at six and, still bleary-eyed we left for our Tour de France day.  We were parked by nine awaiting The Caravan.  Apparently, one of the biggest events in the Tour de France is this caravan of floats and cars that drive through at least an hour ahead of the race tossing free stuff out along the way.  We managed to score some Frisbees, cookies and candies as well as two newspapers which we cannot read.

The excitement grew as we heard the helicopters circling overhead (this leg being fully televised) and we knew the racers were just around the corner.  Being on a flat stretch, they whip by very quickly with a full contingent of police on motorbikes surrounding them.  One minute you are standing there and the next you are blasted by wind so strong it almost knocks you down and then they are past.  Thankfully the riders had already broken into two groups so I was slightly better prepared a few seconds later when it all happened again.

And just like that, they were past; we packed up and headed back to Salt.  It was a lot of waiting for very little action but I was glad we did it.  Nothing beats being at a live event with the energy and excitement of the crowd.  Much later, back at Salt, we watched the thrilling ending:  That guy crashed and then got back up and won the leg!  Amazing athletes.  With or without HGH.

Now we are looking forward to getting back into the hiking/fishing groove.   I am afraid I must make myself get on the scale today . . . but not until after my Pain au Raisin.

-K

Marseilles, Provence and the Verdon Gorge - June 26 - July 2, 2012

More pictures here!

Leaving Ax Les Thermes was made much easier when we learned that, in order to complete escrow on our Seattle home, we had to have documents signed and notarized by the US Consulate General in Marseilles.  What?  Sell a house?  Are we dreaming?  It all came up so suddenly (the house not even on the market) that we were struck mute and just stared at each other in disbelief.  But the shock quickly turned to excitement when the documents arrived so we quickly packed up and headed to Marseilles.

As you know by now, big cities are not really our thing especially with The Noses and temperatures in the 30/90’s.  So I was disappointed to find Marseilles not the quiet fishing village I had envisioned, but the teeming, hot and dusty second-largest city in France.  The city will be the Center of European Culture in 2013 and, likely as a result, has most of its streets under construction.  It was pure hell attempting to drive Pepper around so when we found the Sofitel Hotel and they suggested turning over the keys, we had our first glimpse of the luxury that awaited us inside.

I have raved about hotels before, undoubtedly they all seem much better when coming from living in 19’, but the Sofitel in Marseilles is simply an oasis.  The staff was incredible:   Finding us a dog sitter (for the paperwork appointment at the Consulate); the Concierge, Christian utilizing all his patience on the telephone with FedEx coordinating the paperwork shipment back to the US; and another Christian serving us (and The Noses) with humor and interest for two nights in the delightful lobby bar. 

I received a long-awaited and fabulous short French haircut in the salon and we both took advantage of some spa treatments.  There was a pool but we never seemed to find the time to get down there.  All too soon our visit had come to an end.  It was with heavy hearts that we checked out, walked into the wall of heat and began the torturous drive back through the city, returning to our safe but dusty Salt.

We had left Salt at the Ste. Victoire Campground in Beaurecuiel, just outside Aix en Provence, another disappointing city for me.  Like Marseilles, Ax en Provence is much larger than I anticipated and not the quaint little village you so often see portrayed in the movies—I think the adjacent rolling hills harbor the quaint villages, a vision not attainable when towing a caravan as will soon become quite evident.

Just by chance, when we left the Aix en Provence area with Salt, Snoopy led us down the wrong road (OK, the Snooper is useless outside of the UK, it doesn’t know what roads are ok for caravans!  After this disastrous drive we have finally [finally, finally] learned the lesson of using a regular old map) and we ended up amongst rolling fields of cultivated lavender.  People were parked all over the place, walking into the fields and taking pictures.  (We did not stop for pictures; we barely had room on the road to drive let alone pull over.)

After altering our route twice due to road signs specifying no caravans (again, unbeknownst to Snoopy), we ended up at a four-way junction.  One option said no caravans and the other two didn’t need a warning; they were barely larger than an alley.  Time to turn around.  Not easy . . . I got out, we walkie’d up (walkie-talkies are indispensable!), and, holding up traffic in two of the three options, we pulled into one alley, then backed Salt into the other alley and eventually were able to turn around.  Joy.  I must say, though, that the French are much more tolerant of unusual traffic occurrences (sadly, we did find the one driving issue they clearly hate, but that comes later), everyone just waved and smiled as I thanked them profusely.  Of course, many of them had their cell phones out and were taking pictures of Salt . . . she must be all over the Internet by now.

Despite my almost hourly request that we stop the foolishness of traveling the back roads of France and stay at the municipal site right off of the A15, we eventually wound our way to our campground, L’Aigle, outside Lake St. Croix in the small village of Aiguines.  My nerves were frayed, I tell you!  If it wasn’t for SP, we would never have reached the Gorge (at least with Salt in tow.)

Lake St. Croix is gorgeous (an incredible shade of aqua) and the Verdon Gorge is quite stunning; it is referred to as the Grand Canyon of Europe, although I would label it more the King’s Canyon of Europe.  Unfortunately for us, the hiking in the area is very difficult—the walls of the gorge are too steep to get down except for the most experienced hiker (we reached a point one day where, in order to continue, you would have to hold onto a rope while backing down the slippery stone wall; we may have tried this on a dry day and without The Noses, but thankfully it was raining.) 

We did accomplish one great hike along the ridge to Le Grand Marges where we could see the entire canyon from end to end but, alas, not down to the gorgeous river bottom.  The hike up to and along the crest was a treat for the senses as the hills are filled with wild lavender making the air (as well as The Noses after their patented crazy dog in the meadow) a delight to smell.

Still anxious to see the canyon floor, on our last day we rented a small electric boat from the shores of Lake St. Croix and cruised up into the canyon.  What a refreshing treat!  Particularly the quick dip I took before heading back in. 

After three nights we were ready to tackle the chore of getting back onto the small roads and head up to the French Alps.  This time I spent the morning pouring over maps (electronic and paper) and painstakingly writing out our course.  We only had 350 KM to the next spot, but Snoopy thought it would take seven hours, that gives you an idea of the types of roads on which we were to travel.

We did have some nice relaxing time on the toll highways (happy to pay tolls for those smooth, wide lanes!) except for the first one where, with no cash and the machine not accepting any of our credit cards, I had to push the help button and explain our situation over a loud speaker.  A very loud speaker.  Cars were lined up behind us when, about three minutes later, they gave up and lifted the gates.  We immediately pulled over and SP walked back to the office in an attempt to pay.  The office was closed.  I stood outside Salt trying to calm my nerves while the long line of cars proceeded past, with three motorists shouting (what I imagine were) expletives.  That is how we discovered what makes a French driver yell.  We owe France €5.60.  (By the way, all the other toll machines had no problem taking our various credit cards.)

I don’t usually talk about roads much, (may your guiding light help you if you ever try to follow our route!) but if you are ever in the area, the trip up the E712 toward Grenoble, although slow, is stunning.

Now we have landed in Landry, a small town at the foothills of the French Alps, at the Flower Campground L’Eden de la Vanoise.  Our pitch has a view of snow-capped peaks out the front door, a river running along behind us, fresh pastry at the office every morning and a full hook up! (Don’t ask me which one I appreciate more just yet.) 

We have multiple hikes lined up and the possibility of seeing three good friends so it should be a fabulous couple of weeks!

-K

PS:  Since I know some of you worry about The Noses, here is The Dog Sitter’s Report:  Rosco sat and stared at the door the entire time we were gone (2.5 hours), River took a nice long nap then played with the sitter.  The sitter said she tried to get Rosco to play, but he wasn’t interested.  No surprises there.

Granada, Spain – May 2-3, 2012

More pictures here!

In this life, you never know what the next day will bring.  So sometimes you do a lot of preparation only to find your plans get turned upside down by, say, a flat tire.

The night we were preparing to leave Las Lomas Campground in Guejar Sierra, a neighbor stopped by to tell us that Pepper had a flat and, if we needed it, he knew just who to call as he had a tire go flat upon pulling into the campground.  (Clearly there was something on the road.)  

Indeed, Pepper's right front tire was practically sitting on its rim.  As we attempted to fill it, we could hear—and then feel the air pressing out of a puncture along the sidewall.  Now, as my older brother can attest, Pepper does not carry a spare.  When you open the back hatch and lift up the carpet, you see a very promising, large, round, black-plastic, cover--clearly marked, “Bose”.  Music first, that’s our motto.

So . . . SP removed the tire, rolled it to the office and the wonderful staff at Las Lomas coordinated the replacement with the tire shop. 

A side note here:  When attempting to communicate in a foreign language, we are never sure if someone completely understands us.  However, we are always sure that we do not completely understand them.  Thus, when dealing with the purchase of an item, we have learned to lessen our expectations. 

The tire repair person said the tire could not be repaired but they could have a “summer” tire put on in one day or, if we waited two business days, we could have a “winter” tire.   For those of you who might have read the blog in the early days of Mrs. Dash, you may recall that we waited four weeks to get our Pirelli Scorpion Snow & Ice tires from Porsche in Orange County, California.  So when the repair shop said they could get us the “winter” tire in two business days, we lessened our expectations from Pirelli Scorpion to whatever might fit on Pepper.

This delay in our departure gave us just the excuse we needed to spend a few nights in a hotel enjoying a little Big City Life.  So we checked our budget:  €200/week for one night in a hotel but we hadn’t used the allotment in over four weeks, so we opted for €400/night for two nights, and checked into The [delightful] Hotel Carmen, in downtown Granada.  A very wise choice; you may not be able to tell by the pictures but the bathroom alone was easily twice as spacious as Salt.  I have to say it again:  Twice.  As.  Spacious.  The bathroom.  Plus the “junior suite” included a small terrace overlooking El Cortes Ingles, aka, Spain’s Nordstrom—with a splash of Neiman Marcus, aka Kit Heaven.

With a wardrobe in desperate need of refreshing, I practically ran across the street at the first opportunity. In less than an hour I had gathered an Escada Sport dress, sandals, a Southern Cotton sweater, and a long-sleeved T (cannot believe I left home without one.)  Tired out and with my new best friends safely tucked in tissue and nestled in a handle bag, I met SP on the street for a snack.  (I did have to remind him that his last words to me were, “Better not to ask if there is budget for this.”)

Granada is a wonderful city:  Large boulevards easily carry people directly through town but step off the main boulevards and you find yourself in a maze of pedestrian-only streets lined with musicians, cafes and shops.  It is delightful even on a very hot day (30/90); not only do the narrow alleys and tall buildings provide a lot of shade but many streets have sun shades stretched across the top.  If you need more of a break, there is always a fountain just around the corner at which you can pause for refreshment or reflection.

We thoroughly enjoyed our two nights in town but that was plenty.  We tire of always having to dine out (the exception being the complimentary room service breakfast) and The Noses, often quite well behaved, are awkward to walk along busy streets.

So refreshed and re-dressed, we returned to find our new tire, mounted and balanced and leaning against the Pepper.  As yet unpaid for (you would never see that in California) and sporting the unbelievable embellishment of “Pirelli Scorpion Snow & Ice.”   

-K

Musings – On When *#$! Happens on the Road - Apr. 22, 2012

Repair pictures here!

As you know by now we encountered some issues on our drive south from Jumieges, France landing a crippled Pepper and a one-windowless Salt in Tours.  Once the breakdown began, I realized how quickly two smart people can go from making good decisions under reasonable stress to making poor ones under extreme stress.  It got me thinking that maybe that’s why some of life’s bad experiences just get worse and worse; compounding bad experiences with bad decisions, ultimately creating more bad experiences. 

When we initially felt the Pepper shaking (much differently from the other day’s wheel balance issue; this shake only came with acceleration), we pulled off the A10 to check it out.  That’s when we discovered the missing window.  Thinking (ok, hoping) that the missing window might have been causing the shake, we taped it up and set back toward the A10.  Is that smart?  Was that even logical?  Not really.  That, my friends, is what Wishful Thinking looks like in France.

Pepper restarted shaking almost immediately upon acceleration so we turned around and headed to the first motel that we had passed--the dropping of Salt becoming our #1 priority as we feared that Pepper might stop moving altogether.  I jumped out to check us in and just didn’t like the feel of the place:  The door was locked but included a sign directing you to register yourself at a machine.  I made an executive decision that we would take a deep breath (or six) and sit in the parking lot until we found a more decent place to stay.  Was that smart?  Was that logical?  Quite.   Could that have been the turning point; the point at which I stopped the cycle of reacting badly to a bad experience?

A few minutes later we located the Mercure Hotel, Tours Nord and slowly made our way over.   My stress level immediately dropped about 10 points upon entering the bright, crisp lobby and being greeted by a very helpful (and, thankfully, bilingual) clerk.   (If you can believe it, my French becomes even worse under stress.) I explained our issues (broken-down car, towing a trailer, two dogs) and she assured me that we could stay for a few days, parking Salt in their bus parking area.  In less than three minutes I had a key and was back out the door.

Stopping what could have been a very bad decision (the Quick Palace Motel--see what I mean?) turned out to be pivotal in our ability to cope with our issues.   I can’t say enough for the staff at the Mercure; everyone at the desk was incredibly helpful (one lady even called Porsche to check up on Pepper, although I don’t think she used his proper name) and the fast internet was our lifeline to finding hardware stores for Salt's repair. 

Our room was perfect but Salt’s was even better:  The bus parking area provided a great spot for the construction of Salt’s temporary Plexiglass window.  A new window will catch up with us in Portugal, thanks to Airstream UK, but in the meantime Salt looks great and is back to being waterproof, what more could you ask for?

-K

Isle of Arran to Killin, Scotland, U.K. – March 14-17, 2012

More pictures here!

As it is with all travel, some experiences don’t live up to your expectations while other, seemingly innocuous experiences turn into fantastic memories.

The Isle or Arran falls into the former category; I would rank it up there with Iceland on the marketing scale and the experiences were much the same.  They are both islands, they have incredible scenery and wonderful hiking, but neither lived up to their marketing material when it came to picturesque towns or gourmet restaurants.

Both nights on the island we stayed at the functional Lochranza Campground (and golf course) and managed one hike.  Most people hike up Goat Fell (the highest peak on the island) but we decided to hike the Gleann Easan Biorach trail mostly because it started about ¼ mile from the campground and wound its way along a river and back into a valley.  I love a good valley hike!

It started out as a great hike but quickly turned to a slog- and bog- fest.  The recent rains (and snow) had left portions of the trail in deep quicksand-like mud.  We often sunk to depths over our boots and the dogs were black up to their stomachs.  Not being in this for torture, we turned at two miles, returned to Curry, got cleaned up (washed the dogs in the outside shower) and hit the Arran Malt Distillery tour.   Following the tour (and tasting) we loaded up on two bottles; one that was finished in a Port cask for me (it is a delightful apricot color and a bit sweeter than the others) and a more traditional single cask number for Alan.  We made it back to Curry just in time as the rain and wind set in for the night.

It was a long and mostly sleepless night with Curry swaying around in the wind (these European motorhomes are so light it doesn't take much to make them move.)  So we were up early and ready to hit the ferry.  A quick stop at the local bakery in Broddick garnered us a delicious loaf of multigrain bread and two sweet pastries. 

Now, a side note here:  There are lots of great reasons to travel in the off-season (like touring a castle by yourself) but it is much more difficult in a motorhome as most of the camping areas are closed.  So we knew we wanted to head to the Highlands but couldn’t find an open campground along the way until Killin.  In Killin, after a long day that started on a ferry and involved many highways and by-ways including the busy traffic through Glasgow, we decided the caravan park that was open just did not look comfortable enough so we backtracked to the very comfortable looking Bridge of Lochay Hotel.  And this became a prime example of a destination that exceeded our expectations.

The Hotel itself was charming with a large sitting room where guests mingled, cocktails in hand, around the fire before enjoying their gourmet meal in the restaurant.  For our dinner, we had to sit in the “back bar” so The Noses could participate but we were cozy next to the wood stove and perfectly happy with our homemade pumpkin tortellini and Scottish beef fillet.  The presentation too was gorgeous and the service perfect.

After a great night's sleep, two long, hot showers and an equally delicious breakfast of free range eggs and porridge (Alan is still practicing how to pronounce that after being given a lesson by our waiter who was sure he kept saying, “poached egg”) , we set off to hike Sron A’ Chlachain, a one mile trail straight up the hill overlooking Killin and Loch Tay (apparently the hearty Scottish do not need switch-backs.)   The hike provided us with stunning views and a great way to work off that delicious meal.

Leaving Killin we headed north toward Loch Ness and had no stopping spot in mind other than to find a caravan park that was open.  If the road doesn’t give you a heart attack, the views will along the A827 between Killin and Aberfeldy surely will.  And if you are in the area during the right time of year (which seems to start April 1) there are two excellent caravan park options one in Killin (Margowan) and one in Aberfeldy.  Both are pretty parks with nice big gravel pitches and sit along a river within easy walking distance to town.  If either of these had been open we would have stayed in the area much longer.

As it was, we continued north and when the clocked chimed 4:00 it was time to carpe pitchem:  We have an agreement that if we are on the road at 4:00, we must take the first open caravan park we find--no debating.  So we stopped in Faskally at a completely serviceable caravan park.  The following morning I discovered another unexpected joy:  It had a great trail along the river that I enjoyed in the frosty early morning sun with The Noses.

-K

Practicalities:

-        As I mentioned, most caravans use a cartridge system for their black and grey water, but we are finding quite a few places that are starting to put in “Motor Home Dumping Points” which, at a minimum, allow you to drive over and dump your grey tank water down a sewer connection.  Still hoping to find one that accepts the same process for the black tank.  Salt time is near!

  

 - For hiking, most people rely on "OS" Maps (Ordinace Survey), they are easily found at all tourist information sites (for a small fee.)

London, UK - Feb. 28 - Mar. 4, 2012

More Photos Here!

It is really difficult to believe that we are really in London. Part of it is, I am sure, the jet-lag affect, but there is more; we have The Noses which just seems so unlikely.  

But first, some housekeeping items:  The Presidential Apartments in Kensington were a bit of a disappointment for me.  The entry and hallway carpet was a dark shag, the hallways narrow and scuffed and the sofa in our room had a giant rip in the cushion.  Anyway, our one-bedroom apartment turned out to be a god-send as between the dogs and the food prices, constantly dining out would have been a nightmare. 

As previously reported, on our day of arrival we walked the dogs down to Kensington Garden Park.  You know I love a large city park and this one catapulted over New York's Central Park to my number one spot with its off leash policy.  

Just so The Noses didn't get too comfortable, on Day 2 we took a deep breath and hopped on a city bus with both dogs in tow.  (Dogs are welcome on public transportation in England, including the subway, but I much prefer a scenic bus ride than jetting through tunnels.)  Climbing to the upper deck we enjoyed a great view of the city as The Noses slept.  

We hopped off at Picadilly Circus for a quick snack of bruschetta and red wine before hopping on another bus to see Trafalgar Square, the Tower of London and Tower Bridge.  Unfortunately, we hadn't yet purchased our bus route book so heading home we got a bit lost.  Truth be told, I was trying to work up the courage to ask the two French ladies next to me if I could use their bus route book (en Francais, mais bien sur!) but didn't work up enough nerve before they hopped off.  A side note here:  They, unlike most Londoners, were thrilled to see The Noses.

So we had another nice long walk in between stops before SP navigated us to the appropriate bus route home.  We arrived home exhausted and in the dark, but successful in our desire to see some sites and remain awake all day.

Day 3! Oh the excitement!  The Noses had a much anticipated (by us) grooming appointment at the Pet Pavilion, about a mile from the apartment.  With the dogs in the groomers, we were free for three full hours!  (Is this how new mothers feel when they finally get some time alone?) Having decided the best way to spend our dog-free time was in museums or galleries, we headed toward London's trifecta of museums;  the Natural History, the Victoria & Albert, and the Science Museum, all conveniently situation together.  SP hit the Science Museum while I visited the V&A.  And wasn't I hugely disappointed to discover that the fashion through the ages exhibit was closed?!  Bummer!  I did get to see one awesome period dress and about a million other lovely items, including a tribute to the Queen on her Diamond Jubilee.  SP and I joined up for the Natural History Museum and thoroughly enjoyed the exhibit on Scott, the British explorer who tried to be the first to reach the South Pole (the Norwegians beat him.)  Amazing photos and video, with actual equipment on display--including an old tin of Digestive Biscuits!  I am not alone in my desire for these devils!  (Sadly for my diet, they now come dipped in chocolate.)

Unfortunately, Day 4 found SP sick with whatever ailed me back in Texas.  So I headed out with The Noses to the Abingdon Veterninary office to exchange our gazillion pieces of paperwork for a European Pet Passport.  Delightful office staff and Veterinary, they took care of us in less than a day.  And yes, the passports look like human passports complete with (optional) photos.  You can bet we'll get ours populated with pictures as soon as possible.

I returned the Noses home, made SP lunch and then took off on my own for some errands.  Post Office, exchanging the rest of our USD for Sterling (ouch!), buying a SIM card for my phone (unbelievably cheap at 20 Pounds for 30 days of service, 300 minutes, 300 texts and 500 Megabytes of data.  Why oh why are plans so expensive in the U.S.?)

With SP still sick on Day 5, I delivered the dog crates, via taxi, to the Vet where they will be donating them to the local animal shelter. Then I walked back home, prepared a quick lunch and headed out with The Noses back to Kensington Gardens Park.  We walked and walked and walked and I even got up the nerve to let them off leash for about 2 1/2 minutes.  They took full advantage and raced around like crazy; Rosco doing his crazy eights in super tight turns with River leaping over him again and again.  I only had one "Come" treat (and only that one thanks to a fellow terrier lover, she out walking her Airedale) so I had to hook them back up after the first command. I think we walked five miles that day, it was delightfully cool with partially sunny skies, I could have walked until dark.  

On our final full day in London, I was drawn to visit Big Ben; I have no idea why.  I am not a fan of tourist-y locations, but for some reason I wanted to see the big guy in person.  With Alan still sick, I took off alone navigating my way there on two buses.  The day was cold, windy and rainy, not at all a good day for walking around but it was our last day so it was now or never.

My bus route took me through Sloane Square where the freedom of being without The Noses and the CFO added additional temptation to visit the gorgeous shops but, fortunately for our budget, not tempting enough to overcome the weather.  By the time I reached Parliament Square, the rain had reached downpour status so I hopped off, walked in a giant circle, took four or five pictures and jumped right back on the return bus.

Stopping to pick up some French pastries, Italian wine and chicken soup, I arrived back home to take care of my Loml.

Next up, the rental of Curry (our temporary motorhome) for three to four weeks of touring the rest of the U.K. until we meet up with Salt & Pepper.

-K

Austin, TX, USA – Feb. 19-21, 2012

A couple more pictures

Texans will be the first to tell you that Austin is different than the rest of Texas.  So let me be the second; Austin is different than the rest of Texas.  It is a healthy lifestyle mecca for people who love themselves as much as they love the freedom promised (and fulfilled) in Texas. 

If you can imagine the active people of Colorado decked out in the freestyle clothes and hair preferred in Seattle but spending money like they do in Orange County (I have not seen so many Cayennes in one place since leaving Laguna) then you will have a good idea of the Austin folks.  Of course, all this comes with the friendly hospitality only found in Texas.    

So how did we come to spend three nights in Austin?  On the journey to get The Noses paperwork completed for the crossing, we needed the final documents to be stamped and signed by the USDA’s APHIS department certifying the dogs as being ok to export.  Don’t get me started on this incredibly ridiculous requirement particularly when it all needs to happen ten days before your flight and most states only have one local office.  (Oh no, I got started!) This means you have to visit your vet ten days before the flight, get the documents typed up, send them express to the APHIS office, they work on them for 24-48 hours before express mailing it back to you hopefully in time for your flight. As you can see, ten days goes very, very quickly.  (For more information on traveling with your pets overseas, please see my previous posting US2UK – Transporting The Noses.)  In any event, being only three hours from Austin and hunting for something to take our mind off the masses of luggage we are trying to pack, we opted to take the papers to the APHIS office ourselves.

With Salt & Pepper queued up for loading onto the freighter in Galveston, we really had no choice but to spend our three nights at the Four Seasons, Austin.  Although the building is old and the rooms are much closer to Manhattan size than Texas size, the property is gorgeous with lush grass leading down to Lady Bird Lake and the miles of walking/running/biking trails at hand.  To top it off, a friend of ours mentioned the off-leash area; just a quarter of a mile down the path and across one bridge starts what Rosco and River named Dog Heaven—miles of off-leash trails along the water. 

Upon arriving in town, two new to me (but not Alan) friends treated us to dinner at Eddie V’s where, despite the tempting steaks listed on the menu, we all enjoyed a variety of delicious seafood.  From baked salmon and sole to raw- and baked oysters and a delicious crab salad our table was a seafood sampler.  It was a lovely evening and such a pleasure to meet Jay and Oksana, who I have to thank for introducing my body to P90X.  All I can say is, “Superman Banana.”

Monday being a federal holiday we could not turn in our dog papers so we set about exercising our memories of how to spend money.  We were quite successful at Lululemon and St.Bernard Sports stopping just long enough to enjoy a delicious lunch at Lambert’s BBQ.   Although the menu boasted such lovely items as cold smoked trout, I opted for the house made charcuterie (featuring duck prosciutto) and cheese plate while Alan tucked into some BBQ brisket.  He just can’t get enough of this Texas BBQ.

We didn’t think we would be hungry again, but 7:00 found us out at The Clay Pit, for some tasty Indian food.   If you dine here, I’d recommend using their take-out option.  The restaurant is poorly lit (too bright) and noisy. 

Finally Tuesday arrived and we drove up to the APHIS office.  Summoning all my charm, I went to turn in the papers and beg for a 24-hour turn-around.  Did I mention this was a federal office?  I came out of the office in a charm deficit with no assurance that the papers would be ready any sooner than the 48-hours they promise.  Nothing more we could do with that so we stopped for a coffee and then set about finding some new athletic shoes for Alan.  After a nondescript lunch at Taco Cabana we let The Noses run free in the park for a bit before returning to the room for a quick nap and some long yoga. 

The time had come for our romantic dinner out; in over five months we had never once worn our “fancy clothes”.  We had each packed one really nice outfit but they had never made it out of the Thule compartment on the Pepper.  So we decked out as well as we could (both of us have lost more weight so the clothes were quite baggy—particularly mine so this outfit will need to be replaced in Paris, but really, what won’t?) and headed to the lobby bar for a martini before setting out for Congress.

Incidentally, for those of you following more of The Noses than The Bryants, in order to enjoy a cocktail in the lobby bar (where dogs are not allowed) we had the valet pull up Snowball, our white rental Escalade, and we stored the dogs in there, parked just outside the front door, while we imbibed.

Dinner at Congress is an experience.  The exterior promises an edgy contemporary environment that is not fulfilled by the off-white chairs and booths of the interior.  However, the seating is warm and comfortable with only a dozen or so tables.  The wine list is extensive but the restaurant lacks a sommelier.  Left to our own devices, we opted for a wonderful Margaux.  The food, however, was unbelievable.  French in size and sauce, American and Asian in ingredients with a presentation worthy of Michelangelo, it was a real treat.  Sadly, I was too full to try the egg cream dessert—the one item that drew me to the restaurant in the beginning.

But back to work!  Having not heard from the APHIS office by 9:00 on Wednesday morning, we thought we might have to spend another night in Austin.  As Wednesday dawned warm and getting warmer, the thought of lazing by the pool all day sounded quite nice.  So I only half-heartedly walked up to the APHIS office to check on the progress of our papers.  Turns out, the papers would be ready by noon so I returned to the room in time for our P90X workout and a quick shower before being pulled away from the peaceful Four Seasons.

We are now only days away from The Crossing.  All the papers are in, flights are booked, even Salt & Pepper are loaded on the freighter. 

Really?  Isn’t anyone going to stop us?

-K 

Mammoth Lakes, CA, USA - Oct. 10 -15, 2011

What a great six nights!  The first night was at the Mammoth RV Park for a full Salt clean out but then we quickly headed to the Westin Monache for two nights.  The service was spectacular, starting with the valets who let us park Salt right out front--keeping us from missing her too much.  (How much do you love that picture?!  More pictures available by right-mouse-clicking on the title.)  Three out of our four travelers loved their sleeping arrangements:  The dogs could not get enough of their Heavenly Dog Beds, but Alan’s face fell 10,000 feet when he walked into the room and saw a single (King) bed.    His first words were almost a whine, “Only one bed?”.

But we survived in the one bed (easily twice as large as Salt’s bed, I'm just saying), my SAP demo went well and Alan did a great job of delivering me food and beverages all day as I worked.  The dogs had a grooming day at the local groomer, sadly Rosco came out looking like a sheep.   I guess they don’t get a lot of Wire Fox Terriers out here.  I miss Tailwaggers in Laguna! 

After two nights of luxury, Alan pried me out of my Heavenly Robe and we drove to Twin Lakes Campground (NFS) selected because it was the only one left open in the area.  The campground ranks merely an “ok” in my book:  It promises a dump station and showers both of which were closed for the season and it sits a little low in the valley, so you feel like you are almost in a marsh.  However, the camp host was a delight and clearly loved her job.  We drove up to Lake Mary and loved the campground there—but it was, as promised, closed.

We took two great hikes from Lake Mary, one just under two miles (RT) to Emerald Lake, the other just over two miles to Heart Lake.  Both lovely little lakes, full of “brookies” – local word for the small brook trout – none of whom are interested in leaving the water no matter what you dangle in front of them.  I did catch one brooky in the creek that feeds Lake Mary, he became our appetizer one night.

The highlight of this area was definitely dinner with Dave & Lisa who treated us to a fantastic meal (and equally fantastic wine selection, starting with Champagne!) at the Tamarack Lodge:  A delightfully homey and comfortable place with fantastic food, service, and a wonderful view of Twin Lakes.  The company was even better--such a treat to see friends from home!

We are off to the Rock Creek area for a few nights (after Dave & Lisa's description of the Pie in the Sky cafe, we couldn't leave the area without seeking it out even though it means Going Backward) and then up to the June Lake Loop.  Our only goal right now is to make it over Monitor Pass before it closes for the winter.  I think we have only two or three weeks to do that.

-K

PS:  I can’t believe how well Alan’s knee is doing.  He claims it even feels better the days following the hikes.