The (much anticipated) Cluck Truck Hits the Road: Evergreen, CO to Orcas Island, WA

More pictures here!

I always wondered why I never bothered to separate the Salt & Pepper Adventure blog from our Backyard Chicken Extravaganza blog, and now I know why:  The day has come to combine traveling in Salt with our love of chickens.  Voila, the Cluck Truck Adventures.

To be clear, though, we are not back on the road full-time.  We are starting a new business, privatecamping.net, and in doing so need to be out on the road some of the time to locate new properties.  For this trip, we packed up the dogs and chickens and headed to our prime RV rental location on Orcas Island, WA. 

After doing some research on traveling with chickens, we determined that they would be happiest and safest in their own individual traveling crates.  Thus we purchased five wire crates with plastic bottoms and decked them out with individual water, food, grit, and oyster-shell eating areas all with individual perches.  The chickens hate them.  Of course, we lined the bottom with a few inches of pine shavings and plenty of straw which, every single day, Thelma pushes right out of her cage.  (I long suspected Thelma of being the nest-wrecker in the coop back home and now I know for sure.)

Chickens, being social creatures despite their almost incessant desire to peck each other, were not thrilled with the separate cage arrangement; the exception being Goldie Hen who, as soon as she heard of the plans, began her own rendition of MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” in anticipation of days without being hen-pecked by her coop mates.

Preparation done, it was time to set out.  We had a little more than 1,400 miles to go from Evergreen, Colorado to Orcas Island, Washington but wanted to make sure The Ladies had time in the morning and evening to run in their free-range travel cage (a 10x10 netted bug tent with an open bottom—sets up in seconds and was perfect!) so planned only a little over 300 miles per day.  We also found out of the way places to stop, assuming most KOA’s would not relish the idea of a free-range chicken tent in their yards.  Here we go:

Day 1: 

Goal:  Jim Bridger Recreation Area, WY

Actual Stop:  BLM Land off of WY-84.

Egg Count:  4 (All the Single Ladies except Louise.)

Kit’s Chicken Stress Level:  5 (out of 5.)

Loaded up the chickens from (what must now look to them like a country club) their ¼ acre free-range, worm filled yard and plopped them into their travel cages.  Everyone went in willingly enough (once they saw the scratch being tossed inside) except for Louise whom I had to chase around for a good ten minutes, finally trapping her between the cage and the fence and physically putting her inside. 

During the drive, I worried every time we hit a bump or took a sharp turn.  “Those poor chickens!” was almost a constant lament.  I checked on them at every stop and they had all hunkered down and gone into a bit of a dazed state.  But they were still laying eggs which is always a good sign.

A side note:  If you are ever west of Cheyenne, WY on I-80, there is a gorgeous National Forest, Medicine Bow Routt National Forest, with plenty of campgrounds.  I would have loved to stop but we needed more miles, baby.

We kept on cluck-trucking toward our first choice for the night, the Jim Bridger Recreation Area (near the Jim Bridger Power Plant in Wyoming.) Unfortunately, it turned out to be a day use area which is really too bad as there were a couple of small lakes and lots of picnic tables with no one around.  Deciding to obey the No Overnight Camping signs, we opted to head over to some BLM land off of Black Buttes Road (WY-84), along Bitter Creek (which is close to bitterly dry.)  We backed Salt up a side road, jumped out, set up the chicken tent, unloaded the crates from the truck to the inside of the tent and set The Ladies free.  They were thrilled and did not seem to mind the sandy, desert soil at all but jumped right to hunting and pecking around.  We unlatched the bikes and took a short ride along the dirt roads.

Nearing dusk The Ladies were getting anxious to bed down for the night but chose not put themselves to bed in the crates (damn!  A human can hope, can’t she?)  It took a bit more scratch, and, of course, chasing Louise, but I managed to get them all loaded in and the crates back into the truck for safety overnight.

When morning came I ran out there and reversed the processes, giving them at least an hour of free range time before we packed them back in for another 300 mile day.

Day 2: 

Goal:  Lake Wolcott, Idaho.

Egg Count:  2 (Thelma & Louise)

Kit’s Chicken Stress Level:  4 (The Ladies’ egg production of Day 1 providing some hope that they weren’t fairing too badly back there.)

On the drive we had everything from rain to sleet to snow but arrived at the lovely and serene Lake Wolcott by 3:30 PM.  There are only 18 RV sites, most with a nice amount of space between them with lovely grassy areas (chicken heaven) and level, asphalt pitches (Kit heaven.)  The lake, however, we have declared fish-less.  (To our defense, it is rather early in the year.)

Of note:  The water at the pitches was turned off (not sure if this was a seasonal thing or they are permanently turned off) but if you have a long hose, you can pull over to the day use parking area and fill up via the red faucet near the bathrooms.  I pass this along as we only noticed it by watching our neighbors drive over, the whole time thinking, “What in the world are they doing?”   Electricity was on at the sites.

While in their free range tent, JJ and Dom set about feuding over two of the crates, each chicken going in and setting up a nest before the other one came in and chased them out.  This went on for at least an hour.  JJ finally won (no surprise there) and laid an egg overnight in one of coveted cages. 

Day 3:

Goal:  La Grande, Oregon (343 miles)

Actual Destination:  Farewell Bend, Oregon State Park (250 miles)

Egg Count:  3  (JJ, Dom, Louise)

Kit’s Chicken Stress Level:  3 (They seem to be getting enough free run time as they are often just milling around cleaning their feathers after a couple of hours outside the crates.)

We got a late start due to hot showers!!  Yahoo!   (Drove over to the aforementioned day use area at Lake Wolcott, hooked up to the faucet and showered like there was no tomorrow.)   We also opted to stop twice on the road to attempt to catch some fish.  Still nothing.  Still too early in the season.  Still our story.

When the clocked passed 4:00 PM and we were still on the road with about 100 miles to go to La Grande, we carpe campem’d when Alan noticed a sign for Farewell Bend, an Oregon State Park just after crossing the border from Idaho on I-84.  Ahh, those Oregon State Parks!  Never disappointing.  Lovely (and large but empty this time of year) campground along the shores of the Snake River's Brownlee Reservoir.  Lots of pitch types to choose from and we opted for one in the back with lots of area for the chicken tent.

Up went the tent in record time (it was a long, hot day back there for The Ladies) and out they popped and almost immediately began a dirt bath extravaganza.  The first one of the trip and they were really digging in.  With The Ladies so happy, we poured a cocktail and nestled near the campfire for some quiet time.  Before I had finished my gin, I noticed people trying to take pictures of the chickens from afar; I invited them over for a closer look.

They were four Canadians heading home from Arizona and amazed that we were traveling with chickens.  (They might be the first on the trip to even notice we had chickens along.)  Lovely people (as most Canadians are) and they departed with eight fresh eggs for breakfast.  I am betting that is a camping story that will get told!

Day 4:

Goal:  Cle Elum, WA

Egg Count:  2  (Thelma & Dom)

Kit’s Chicken Stress Level:  2  (When Louise, of all chickens, jumps up on your back for a ride, you know things can’t be that bad.)

In preparation for the trip, I had done a ton of research to find out-of-the-way places in which to camp; one such place was the Red Mountain Campground (USFS) outside of Cle Elum, WA.  Although it is technically closed for the winter, it is one of the few campgrounds that allow you to dry camp for free.  Winding along the Cle Elum River, it is a beautiful spot.  Being very off season, we expected the campground to be empty and were disappointed to find that at least three other vehicles had found the place before we did. 

None-the-less, it was a nice spot and Alan scouted out a site that I reserved by standing in while he drove ahead to turn Salt around.  During his drive, he found an even better site in one of the dispersed camping areas.  So he came back to get me and we set up camp just down the road.   Chickens ranging in their tent, we set about fishing the river to no avail.  But the sun was mostly out (“mostly” being a good percentage for the Pacific Northwest) and the evening was delightfully complete with Manhattans and a campfire.

Day 5:

Goal:  Orcas Island and our own Private Camping spot!

Egg Count:  4 (All the Single Ladies but Dom)

Kit’s Chicken Stress Level:  0

Packed up in the light snowfall and were on the road extra early.  Delightful to be driving in an area we know almost by heart!  We stopped at a couple of new favorites in Mount Vernon:  The Calico Cupboard for bread and a Mexican grocery (can’t find them on Google maps but they are on the corner of Freeway Road and I-5) for marinated meats and one old favorite, Compass Wines in Anacortes, before getting into the ferry line.  We had hours to spare so I used the time to collect eggs and clean out Salt.

We arrived at the site while it was still light out (a must if you are going to rent this site!) and with the sun shining, it was gorgeous.  Our intention while here is to get it ready for rental on Private Camping and we have our work cut out for us:  We forgot how mossy things (drives!) become when in the Pacific Northwest so we will be adding “Gravel Drive & Pitch” to our list of to-do’s (which include “Erect Chicken Coop” and “Build Shed”.)   In between work, we plan on hiking, biking, tennis and finding all the other fun things to do on the island which I will write about on our Privatecamping.net blog.

-K

The Beginning of the End – Dec. 9, 2012

We’ve been back in the US for nine nights but we are finally home; a night in Salt at the very hospitable Duck Creek Campground just east of Paducah, Kentucky.  The rain is coming down in waves and we are enjoying a gin and driving day chips in our full hook-up spot a mere thirty yards from the fully fenced, large, grassy dog area.  (Those of you who have been reading through Europe know the importance of every word in that last sentence!)

We picked up Salt & Pepper from the docks in Jacksonville, Florida on Thursday morning and took them immediately to Camping World for Salt’s new LP tanks (we had to leave the others behind before shipping from Belgium.) Friday we drove to Savannah for a delightful night with some dear, but don’t call them old, friends.  That night was the first time we had spent the night in a house in over fifteen months.  Yes, there was the Paris apartment, but nothing compares to the solidity of a house; it was heavenly.   (Not to mention the Seabass roasted in banana leaves and chocolate bread pudding with German chocolate drizzle.  C'mon Man!)

Becoming friends with people from all over America is one of the greatest benefits of our previous careers; after that wonderful night on Skidaway Island we were treated to another divinely home-cooked meal and night’s rest suffused by southern hospitality with friends in Atlanta.  Don’t get me started on the Butterfinger pie—lord I need some time to get some exercise!  The Noses especially loved this stop as they were provided with a fully-fenced back yard.  Complete with Teasing Squirrels. 

Now we are headed to Colorado almost as fast as Pepper can pull us all.  We will have two nights in St. Louis allowing one day for me to fly to Boston and back for a job interview.  After that it is Colorado, Baby!

-K

PS:  The picture above is of Rosco on Main Beach in the city of Fernandino Beach on Amelia Island, Florida.

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

Bourg St. Maurice, French Alps, France – Oct. 14-18, 2012

More pictures here!

It was our first return stop on the Aventura and it felt like home.  What a difference it makes to an experience to be surrounded by the familiar; everything seemed so easy.  Automatically we knew where to find our favorite bread, groceries, phone recharging stores and hiking maps. 

And we knew just where to stay; our favorite campground, L’Eden de la Vanoise.  Unfortunately they had closed for the shoulder season (between summer and winter) preparing to reopen in mid-December.  So we parked Salt at the near empty Camping Le Versoyan and enjoyed the ability let the Noses run free right from the door and into the miles of hiking paths just outside the gate.  This campground also has the benefit of being right in Bourg; walking to town took only 15 minutes.

And what a treat to see our beloved French Alps changed into fall colors!  The bright green up the alpine pastures had moved into a lovely gold with the trees at lower elevations showcasing various colors from bright yellow to deep red.  It was beautiful particularly after the first snowfall which arrived on our first night and stayed for three days in the higher elevations.

Having spent so many glorious hours in the mountains last July we were anxious to get back up there.  Opting for a new valley, we headed toward Val D’Isere stopping at Bon Conceil to begin our hike to Le Monal, a protected hamlet delightfully set in the most stunning valley we have yet come across; a Must See if you are in this area.  (You might be relieved to know that our back country trips are now over so you will no longer have to read the phrase, “the most stunning valley we have yet come across”--at least until we arrive in Colorado.) 

We spent our second hiking day driving all the way to Val D’Isere, a ski town much like all the others throughout these valleys, but striking once you leave the town and head toward the Vanoise National Park.  Sadly, dogs are not allowed in the park so we failed to get much hiking done, but we did stop at the Lac du Chevril on the way home and pulled out four (yes four!) trout-looking fish (their aqua blue backs when in the water almost instantly changed to midnight blue when on land making me think they might be Artic Char.)  I simply labeled them Delicious.

With our Paris flat beaconing and the burgundy wine region still ahead we could only stay four nights.  Next stop Beaune, and the various wineries surrounding the area.

-K

Lezise, Courmayeur, & the Italian Alps – Oct. 9-13, 2012

More pictures here!

Having only 17 days left with Salt & Pepper in the European portion of the Aventura (we have a glorious month in a Paris flat to look forward to while S&P are shipping home) we have decided to focus on what we love:  Wine and mountains.

So we left Levanto and headed north-east to Lezise, Italy, near the heart of the Valpolicella wine region.  We only lasted two nights at Camping du Parc on Lake Garda (why is everything still so crowded in October?  With children no less—what happened to school?) but two nights was long enough to take a delightful car tour of the wine region and a short hike to the self-proclaimed longest natural bridge, you be the judge (that is River on the path):

Unlike wine regions in France and the USA with their prolific “free tasting” signage, Italy has not learned how to attract a non-Italian speaking tourist.  The map we picked up at the very helpful tourist information site should have led us to the doors of at least three vineyards but we only found our way to one:   The perfect Fratelli Vogadori.  Run by three brothers and their father who still works in the field; all the grapes are grown completely naturally, no pesticides or chemical fertilization and their wines are produced solely from their own grapes.  SP was in heaven with their two types of Amarone and I loved their Ricioto, a dessert wine much like Port but made 100% from grapes.

Wine in hand, we headed north to Courmayeur, at the base of Mt. Blanc.  What a gorgeous spot!  And Camping Arc en Ciel was a slice of heaven; two of the three nights we were completely alone in our long row of thick green grass.  You know how I love green grass!  I hardly ever go into detail on campgrounds in the posting (remember, you can see more campground details on the Campground page) but this was a lovely spot and the hosts were as helpful and charming as they come. 

We hiked twice; a short one to Lake Arpy which was beautiful even on a cloudy and cold day and a longer one up Val Ferret.  Let me tell you, if we spoke the language we would have bought our farmhouse right there in that valley—it was stunning:  Flanked by the Alps, centered with a river and to each side slightly rolling hills highlighted with trees blazing in their fall colors.  Delightful! 

Italians have been the most profusive when it comes to appreciating Salt & Pepper often sounding a joyful honk followed by a hearty wave and thumbs up as they pass us.  So one evening, as I was leaving the grocery store, I was not surprised to see a Crusty standing outside gazing toward the Pepper, slowly shaking his head and repeating, “Bella, bella, bella.”  I prepared my knowing (and hopefully gracious) smile as I approached the car only to look just beyond Pepper to Mt. Blanc, angelic and massive, posing in the sunset.  I turned to the Crusty who again shook his head and repeated, “Bella, bella, bella.” 

Bella, indeed.  I have seen a lot of mountains, and even Mt. Blanc from France, but nothing compares to Mt. Blanc as seen from Italy.  No wonder these Italians are so happy.

-K

Levanto, Italian Riviera – Sept. 30 - Oct. 5, 2012

More pictures here!

They say you find what you are looking for when you stop looking; this proved to be true for us in Italy.  Giving up on finding charming, out of the way places we headed to Cinque Terre and discovered . . . the rest of the tourists.   Luckily, sometimes the restrictions of Salt bring about unexpected joys:  Unable to drive Salt down the roads leading into the five townships that comprise Cinque Terre (contrary to Wikipedia, Trip Advisor and Lonely Planet internet reviews, you can indeed drive into these towns, albeit with a car and not a caravan) we opted to camp just north along the coast in Levanto.

As it turns out we discovered our own little heaven.  There are some tourists here, but not nearly the hordes that converge along the five Cinque Terre towns.  Indeed, our one day at the northern-most town, Monterossa, was more than enough for me:  Having to dodge tour guides hoisting their herding flags as they led their slow-moving groups from photo op to photo op and over-paying for under-flavored “Italian” food was more than I could bear.  Thankfully, this memory was displaced by our hike home to Levanto which proved to be long, but wonderful, along the edge of the sea.

What promised to provide the largest portion of the Cinque Terre charm for us, the coastal hike connecting the five towns, was closed due to landslides and continued rainfall.  One section, the Via Dell’Amore, has been closed since 2011; the other four more recently, and hopefully, temporarily.  You can still drive to all the towns as well as train or ferry but having seen the one and, more importantly, having found our own coastal dream towns (yes, there are two!) we saw no need to drive, train or boat in order to enjoy what this coast has to offer.  (Note that you can also still walk between the towns, just not on the coastal route; these other trails often involve sharing roads with automobiles not making for a very enjoyable outing.)

So Levanto . . . larger than Monterossa, filled with great little shops (local wine, cheese, bread, fish and non-local Armani), and topped off with a good dose of Crusties, we are in heaven.  Include in the list hill walks through olive groves and a gorgeous coastal walk to the even more charming town of Bonnasola, and I believe we have discovered how the Italians enjoy Cinque Terre:  From anywhere else along the Riviera.

There is one downside to this lovely spot; the bell tower goes off 24-hours a day on the quarter hour; with chimes for the hour as well as the quarter hour it is quite the bell-fest.  So, even at say, 3:30 in the morning, you get three chimes in one note (Ding, Ding, Ding) indicating the hour and then two chimes in another note (Dong, Dong) indicating 2x15 minutes.  Nothing keeps me awake more than laying there listening to my life chime away 15 minutes at a time.  No pressure.  The worst is 12:45—it barely finishes before the singular chime of 1:00; it is difficult, however, not to enjoy the classic Ding, Dong chime of 1:15—although I much prefer hearing the PM rendition.  They make up for this annoyance by having the most inviting Cocktail Chime promptly at 5:00 p.m. (coming soon to a DITL Video.)  Now The Noses and I all begin to salivate at 5:01.

Other than that, this is the location we thought all Aventura locations would be like.  It is an easy walk from Camping Aqua Dolce into the town for groceries and each afternoon one of us will make the journey, finding something to make for dinner.  As previously mentioned, hiking is in abundance as is swimming in the sea and two lovely tennis courts.  SP has rented a bike on two occasions and I’m not sure who is more happy, he or River.  River’s new joy is to run along beside the bike—something we started her on in Slovenia; unfortunately not as convenient here due to the increase in bicycle and pedestrian traffic.  But when she can she does and when she can’t she cries as he peddles away.  (He, and I for that matter, can walk away all day long and she won’t bother to lift her head [as long as Rosco is with her], but get SP on the bicycle without her and you’d think she was about to die.)

SP would like to visit one more Cinque town because he just can’t believe the amount of hype surrounding what seem to be five not un-common towns along this coast and I would like to see them from the sea, so perhaps we’ll get on that ferry after all.  Until then,

Ciao!

-K

PS:  You may notice in the campground pictures the abundance of trees and the lack of space; we had quite a time parking Salt and may not have succeeded without the help of our neighbors.  We will need their help again to get out as we cannot leave unless the camper next to us vacates his spot.  Even at this “low season” time of year, the campground is filled to capacity each night—often with a great amount of daily turnover.   Timing will be essential.  

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

Lido di Nazionali & Comacchio, Italy – Sept. 19-20, 2012

More pictures here!

Our great expectations of the Adriatic Coast combined with the promise of a full service pitch had us driving in thinking that we may have to stay in Lido delle Nazioni until Camping Tahiti closed five days later.    We were out of there in two nights.

First for the campground:  We should have prophesied the end of our visit when Reception asked for our wrists in order to attach non-removable plastic bracelets. We are not the plastic bracelet kind of people.  We much prefer that business take it upon themselves to remember who is a paying guest and who is not.  On the plus side, our pitch came with its own private toilet, shower and outdoor dish sink which were nice; unfortunately the star attraction was the millions of mosquitoes.  We were eaten alive.

As for the coast, the area is run down and not very inviting.  The seaside is almost completely segmented into private beaches (Campground Tahiti has one of them), their entrances protected with chain link fences, making a walk along the coast seem like you are venturing around a prison yard.  With a storm brewing, the Adriatic wasn’t beaconing either and thus we spent our one full day in the area playing tennis (terrible courts), visiting the Thermal Spa (not nearly hot enough for this time of year) and dining in the nearby village of Comacchio (easily the jewel of our stop.)

In Comacchio we found Crusties and lots of them.  Crusties is a name I gave to all the old men in Barcelona:  They looked like they had spent their lives on the sea and could not get used to walking on the stable earth.  As in Barcelona, the Crusties of Comacchio gaze out of their unflappable eyes, gesticulated wildly, discussing lord only knows what.  Commachio is full of them.  I managed to get two of them in a photo of the town, but you have to look carefully—I didn’t want to be obvious.

Along with the Crusties came a good dose of authentic Italian life.  At cocktail time (Prosecco and local olives) the Crusties gathered for their drinks and smokes while there was never a woman to be seen.  We figured the women were home making dinner.  I have rarely wanted to speak another language so much in my life:  Oh to eavesdrop on their conversations!  What do they talk about with such excitement hour after hour after hour?

With nothing garnering our attention more than swapping at the mosquitoes, we knew we had to get back on the road and thus headed deeper into Italy and into another country; San Marino.  Nothing beats mosquitos like the oldest republic in the world.

-K

PS:  For those of you wondering how in the world we could drive by Venice twice without stopping, I give you this:  We try to visit the out of the way places on this trip.  Venice can be easily toured without your own transportation and most likely much more enjoyable without your own dogs.   If you have not been there but are planning a trip, prepare yourself for some of the ugliest scenery in the world on your drive from the airport to the water taxis.  The area is a marsh-land (hence the mosquitoes) and covered with low-rise industrial buildings. 

Bled, Slovenia – Sept. 12-17, 2012

More pictures here!

With so much to love about this area of Slovenia, it seems odd to rank our pitch at the top of the list; such is the life in a 19’ Airstream.  

As I alluded to in my prior post, we were in heaven the minute we drove into Camping Sobec:  Gentle paved roads through the half empty, pine-forest campground led us to our pitch, #123.  We happily set up camp at the end of a road while gazing at the open fields around us.  This spot did not have the elements of a comfort pitch (specifically water and drainage) but it had its own luxury item:  Privacy; couple that with the ability to just open the door in the morning and let The Noses run, it was perfection.

Then we drove into Bled.

Wow.  We have seen some picturesque sites on our journey but Bled easily tops the list of picturesque towns.  To think that prior to talking to a Europcar rental agent in England, we had never even thought of visiting Slovenia just makes me realize how large and varied the earth is and how limited our ability to appreciate it.  

Due to the rainy weather, the tourist office recommended a hike into Vintgar Gorge for our first full day in the area.  It was as gorgeous as promised but I imagine it would be breathtaking with some direct sun to light up the aqua river.  We continued up to the Plateau area hoping it would contain wide open vistas over to the Alps but the area was also tree-filled (and, having gained in elevation, very cold – 6/42!)  We dropped down the other side of the plateau to Lake Bohinj which is more rustic and natural than Bled but not nearly as picturesque. 

Our most memorable day was when SP rented a bike and I walked The Noses from the campground, meeting up in Bled for lunch.  A delightful day!  Sadly followed by a night in which SP became violently ill (we think from some bad water) and all of a sudden we were back to wishing for the luxuries of water and drainage over privacy.

Actually, we were wishing for all three.

-K

Dobriach, Austria Part 2 – Sept. 5-11, 2011

More pictures here!

It is not often that we find ourselves in one spot for three weeks.  In order for this to happen the stop has to either have in-pitch drainage (known over here as a comfort pitch) or be so stunning that moving Salt out and back for dumping is not considered a chore.  It turns out that Camping Brunner am See in Dobriach, Austria offered the perfect combination:  Stunning comfort.

We had no preconceived notions about this area; as previously reported, we headed up to Austria to escape the heat of Slovenia and took the first campground claiming a comfort pitch.  Maybe it was due to the lack of preconception but the area’s beauty stunned us into a languor that suited our vacation-mode attitudes.  Really, you can get quite spoiled (and fat) when you hardly have to move in order to see an awe-inspiring view.  Thankfully the area offers easy access to tennis, hiking, biking and swimming otherwise my waistline would be in much worse shape.  (Have I mentioned my addiction to the local pretzel bread?)

Also as previously reported, the crowds initially diminished after the third week of August.  We had almost a week during which we thought the campground would remain half-full and thus we didn’t worry about turning Salt around (remember, we are still parked in such a way that, if people moved in across the drive from us we would not be able to get out.)

To our dismay, starting around the first of September, the leisurely unemployed (or just the smart European vacationers) starting filling up the campground; with an average age closer to 70 than 7, they are, thankfully, a much more peaceful group than the young families.  However, watching the pitches fill, we quickly realized that our inability to move Salt had returned.

So one day during the Great Migration (the incoming and outgoing of the motorhomes during this time was tremendous:  Every day at least a dozen came and went) we spotted an opportunity to turn Salt around.  We hitched her up (much to the delight of many watchful eyes), drove her further down the row, turned left, pulled through two spots, backed up into another spot and completed our three point turn; pulling back into our pitch with Salt’s nose facing toward the exit.  We could now leave at will.  Well, just as soon as SP had the caulking done.

The supplies arrived, the weather cooperated (day after day of lovely 23/76 degree sunshine!), SP had us patched in a day and we had the hideous blue tarp back on the ground where it belonged.  With our return to the USA looming ahead, we felt pressure to resume the Aventura and decided to head back south to Slovenia. 

On the designated driving day, I woke up and took The Noses for a long hike up into the woods and then down along the lake, two hours in total.  Arriving back later than usual with the warm sun shining I wondered why we were leaving this heavenly spot, voted for one more vacation day and so talked SP into staying another 24 hours. 

Topping my morning hike with a quick swim, some sunbathing while SP waxed Salt, and another epic tennis battle in the afternoon, it was a perfect last vacation day.  Happy and tired, we settled into our camp chairs with chips and gin to watch the final parade of people by Salt.  (She must be, by now, in more home movies and pictures than most children.  Some people try to take pictures in a nonchalant manner, “Hey, I’m just out here taking pictures of all the caravans” and others are more direct often just standing right in front of us staring, photographing and filming without saying a word [in any language.]  The latter are not my favorite people; the former I often invite in for a closer look.)

Staying so long in one spot always makes us a little soft:  The stressors of towing on small, windy roads to another unknown location (will we even be able to fit in the campground?) weighed heavily on our minds as did leaving Austria; what a lovely place.  We are trying to come up with one descriptor for each country and Austria’s effortlessly became “Elegant.”

Having no joy for the back roads of Slovenia, we opted to use the Motorway down the eastern side to Bled.  It was a short drive, so short in fact that I voted to keep heading south unless the area and campground really rang our bell.  But the bell tower was rocking when we pulled into Camping Sobec and became deafening upon our first view of Bled.  

-K

Dobriach, Austria Part 1 – Aug. 21-26, 2012

Busy season pictures here

Written upon arrival, August 21:  Despite being promised that the vacationers would be tailoring off, we are again surrounded by multitudes of people.  But this time we booked ahead and reserved the largest pitch they had; thankfully at the entrance to one of the campground's otherwise dead-end rows.  Rookie mistake:  We were so happy to be in a well-marked comfort pitch (water and drainage on-pitch although you share the drain) that we pulled in and parked Salt without any thought of having to hook her up and get out.  

Later, sitting outside enjoying our cocktails, we watched as the row across from us (and by “across from us” I mean, literally, six feet away) filled up (and up and up) and we slowly realized that not only might we never want to leave (mountains, lake, swimming, fishing, hiking, cool breeze, happy Austrians) but that we may never be able to leave.  As it stands right now, we cannot re-attach Salt and get her out of the pitch without asking someone else to move.  Hello Neighbor, nice to meet you, would you kindly hitch up your caravan and move it out of our way?  And we wonder where Europeans get the idea that Americans are pushy.

Update on August 26:  I have never been so happy to be woken up by the sound of a car!  This is the last Sunday of August and the people are flying out of the campground.  As I said to SP, we might get back to liking this way of living soon; perfect timing as we are about to celebrate one year full time in Salt. 

We continue to treat this stop like a vacation with lots of tennis, swimming and long, easy walks with the Noses around the lake.  The local Pretzel Bread has now replaced Pain au Raisin as my raison d'etre.

Austria was not on our original plan, but now we are glad it was thrown our way.  The people seem more outgoing and active than other Germanic countries we have encountered and our little spot in (the wonderful) Camping Brunner am See at the head of Millstatter See (Lake) is perfect:  The camp has its own beach, you can walk to groceries and a bakery, tennis is close at hand, two touristy towns within a short drive and a working town (my phrase for towns that work for the people with hardware stores, auto supplies, veterinarians, doctors, etc.) within a 30 minute, gorgeous drive around the lake.

With the people thinning out we may find ourselves here for quite some time.

-K

PS:  The thinning out has included many pitches in our immediate vicinity so moving, should we ever want to, should no longer be an issue.

Bovec, Slovenia – Aug. 14-20, 2012

More pictures here!

It was simply too hot to enjoy, but we will be back.  Slovenia, as I tweeted before, is the Colorado of Europe:  A rugged and mountainous space with happy, healthy people outside all the time.  Prior to our arrival in England, we had never heard of the country but on three separate occasions, when we asked a European where their favorite place was, they mentioned Slovenia and thus the tiny country made it to our list.  (The Aventura, if I haven’t mentioned it before, is all about visiting towns [and now countries] that we ordinarily wouldn’t have picked out as vacation spots from the comfort of a non-rolling home.)

Fortunately the snow was off the peaks as we drove through the valleys leading from Udine, Italy  through Kobarid and up to Bovec, otherwise we may have driven off the road the beauty was so intense.  If you can peel your eyes from the road, you will glimpse the aqua waters of the Soca River far below, the color of which cannot be believed; even my pictures look unreal to me now. 

However, we quickly learned that it is not a country built for caravanning:  Small, windy roads whose unprotected edges drop precipitously down the mountainside and ne’er a full-service (comfort) pitch to be found.  Indeed, most campgrounds we checked out, including the one that found room for us, Kamping Polovnek, had the smallest pitches imaginable (or, worse, no defined pitches at all) with matching small roads leading into them.  Salt and Pepper could barely fit down the access paths let alone park in most of the spaces. 

The campgrounds are filled with small RV’s (motorhomes) and tent-campers.  Multi-colored tents popped up side by side across the fields in Kamping Polovnek transforming the fields into psychedelic mushroom farms, no pun intended.  Being one of the largest outfits around, we crammed Salt between two trees and tried our best to enjoy the four feet directly in front of our door; the only “private” space we could garner.

In an effort to escape the stifling heat at camp we sought out higher elevation (yet another gondola ride although at half the price of Switzerland) and hiked to a point where, clinging to the sides of rock, you area able to gaze through a giant hole into Italy.  It was definitely cooler up there but still hot and the gondola ride back down was almost more than we could bear; with the sunshine streaming into the glass-enclosed bucket and only a small window to be opened it quickly became an oven. 

Despite three competitive tennis matches (SP is consistently winning now, but not without a fight) by far our best experience was the day we did the Bryant Soca River Tour and stopped at two of the pull-out spots on the (ahem) highway, walking down to the river.  It was deathly cold in the water, but it felt so good we all jumped in multiple times.

Between the heat and the lack of an in-pitch dumping site, we simply had to leave.  We couldn’t leave our tanks with anything in them for more than three days without Salt starting to smell (it was over 90 every day) and pulling in and out of the pitch to access the dump area was a nightmare.  As a friend of ours wrote we “need[ed] a vacation from our vacation.”  (Incidentally, we could have used the clean and functional facilities at the campground—and I did most of the time—but with the campground full to over-loading, that was not a pleasant experience either.)

SP had the great idea to go directly to the closest full-service pitch available but try as we might, we could not locate one in Slovenia.  The closest we found was in Austria, a short 100 KM drive, and thus Austria made it onto the Aventura list (although, unlike Slovenia, prior to this we may have been able to place Austria on a map.)  We landed at Camping Brunner in Dobriach, a small town on a gorgeous lake with temperatures in the low 80’s and a nice fresh breeze.  It was time to find some tonic, open the Mt. Gay Rum and start pouring those T&C’s! 

Nothing says vacation like a full-service pitch.

Cheers!

-K

Switzerland (Fiesch & Poschiavo) & into Slovenia – Aug. 13-16, 2012

More photos here!

We knew Europe would be crowded in August which is why we planned on being in the Alps, assuming most people would prefer the beaches of the Mediterranean for their vacation.  None the less, it started to get crowded at our lovely spot in Poschiavo (Camping Boomerang) to the point where I thought they were about to ask us to share our pitch (crowded has since taken on a new meaning.)   So we decided it was time to go even further afield and try out the Julian Alps in Slovenia via a quick drive through northern Italy. 

But first to describe our remaining time in Switzerland:  We accomplished two more hikes, a long one starting at the Alp Grum train station and winding through a valley to the base of a glacier and a much shorter one that started at the top of the Bernina Diavolo gondola, where after only a very short hike, we were above 10,000’ and doing our best to breath. 

If we needed any further impetus to leave Switzerland we received it with the cost of those two hikes:  Over $300 (eight round-trip train tickets and four gondola tickets) this, for something that we are used to enjoying for free. 

Eager to get to a less-expensive country, we drove out of Switzerland and into Italy where we almost fainted pulling Salt over Abrica Pass.  Every mountain road we have been on in Italy has been under construction and this was no different.  Add August traffic to the construction and you have quite a mess and definitely more than we would try to deal with again.  We vowed to stick to the multi-lane highways and save the mountain roads for Pepper alone.  Big words for two people who have no experience driving in most of these countries.

After the slow, harrowing drive through the pass, we knew we wouldn’t make it to Slovenia in one day so we opted to leave the highway and head to Caorole, a small town on the Adriatic sea, which had at least three tent signs on our map indicating camping.  Unfortunately, we did not notice the map also included an umbrella sign; the universal symbol for “beach”. 

The temperature had reached above 30/90 as we pulled into town and proceeded to get turned away from every campground.  They were full, and I mean full; even if they had found a spot for us, I wouldn’t have stayed.  You simply would not believe how crammed together everyone was (unless, of course, you have camped on the Italian coast during August).  You could barely walk between the rigs. 

So we had a quick dinner (pizza!) along the sea before hitting the road.  As it was late, we decided to forgo a campground and just stop at a motel off the highway.  Ha!  This is not the US, you don’t see many glowing Holiday Inn signs as you cruise down the road.  So Simon (GPS) directed us to a hotel outside of Udine where we grabbed a small room for €70 and slept like two logs (the separate beds helped!)

Still not having any reservations (do not attempt to camp in Europe in August without reservations!) we headed early to Slovenia, starting our pitch search in Kobarid and garnering our first rejection before noon.  Luckily, by that time, a campground further north had written that they had room for us so we headed to Bovic.

And just like that we were back on mountain roads.

Not having any options for a highway (or, worse, maybe Route 203 from Kobarid to Bovec is considered a highway in Slovenia) we had another white-knuckle and close to Salt-scraping experience getting to Kamp Polovnik.  However, true to their word, they did have a place for us. 

This is where you can find us now:  Crammed into a pitch (one of the few that are even slightly defined by trees—most of the camp is just open fields and therefore a free for all for space) and hoping for enough Aventura spirit to get through the heat and crowds of August. 

-K

Ax-les-Thermes, France (Part One) – June 9-14, 2012

More pictures here!

During the The Great Reconnaissance Mission of 2010 we spun down the mountains from Andorra and discovered Ax-les-Thermes peacefully nestled along a river and boasting a number of hotels that fit our budget (for that trip under €100/night)--not to mention a number of patisseries.  Being so close to the plentitude of dog-friendly hiking in the area it immediately made our list as a Must Return with Salt.  (Note that dogs are not allowed in the French National Pyrenees Park further west.)

So we did our due diligence and visited a number of local caravan parks, discovering one just west along N20, Le Malazeou, with a lovely, one-mile pedestrian path along the river linking it back to Ax.  (I am hoping a two-mile walk to my daily pain au raisin may just keep me from gaining too much weight.) 

This is where we find ourselves today; pitch 612 (not that there are 600 pitches), with the river along the front door and just steps from the satellite shower block which, it turns out, plays an important role in our stay.

First, the practicalities:  We have discovered only one campground with full hook-ups in the area, a municipal camp, 1 kilometer or so from the town of Merens-les-Vals, on the N20.   As you know by now, we would have chosen a full hook-up pitch over everything had we known it existed (we didn’t find it on our prior Recon Mission), except that you cannot walk into Ax.  You can walk into Merens, but it is decidedly not a cute town. 

We have electric at our pitch and they offer a motor vehicle waste disposal area (no hoses which we find quite odd) the use of which would require us to hitch up Salt, drive to the top of the campground, dump then try to turn around and bring her back down.  Not an impossible chore but not an enjoyable day out either.  Luckily, just a few kilometers up the N20 is a Carrefour with an Aires de Service area, including hoses (usually €6 per use.)  So when the time does come we will pull Salt up there and clean her out—at least turning around will be easy.

However, to minimize our trips to the dump area, we decided to try utilizing the shower block for more than just showers.  It turns out I quite enjoy doing the dishes over there (for vegetable prep I still prefer Salt—it’s just faster.)  But the dish washing area is quite the social spot.  I often learn a new French word or two but more often get to hear the praises of Salt.  She is quite a hit here, appearing, I am sure, in many people’s pictures of their family vacation in Ax.  The [very helpful and bi-lingual] office staff mentioned that “everyone” wants to talk about Salt when they visit the office.  I think this has helped us secure our pitch for almost a month, even when it is approaching the "Must Have a Reservation" time in France.

But back to the fun!  We have had two incredible hikes, the scenery is even better than we imagined it would be, although the weather (and then often the scenery) changes on a dime.  During our first hike toward Etang de Compte we had glimpses of wildflower filled meadows leading up to icy peaks before being rushed out of the valley by the rain.  On our second hike, our breath was taken away twice:  Once when hiking above 2001 meters near the Col de Pailheres (must get in better shape!) then again when struck by the view down to the Etang de Noir, just moments before the clouds rolled in. 

Both areas are on the list for upcoming backpacking trips.  (That’s “wild camping” to my European readers.)  I recorded a short video of the overlook with the clouds rolling in but will need to locate a stronger internet connection before I can upload it.

  

Speaking of backpacking, we decided we had better set up our tent as we purchased it just prior to leaving Laguna (September 2011) and haven’t used it once.  So back at camp, we managed to get it up in record time even while constantly pushing Rosco back—he loves a good tent nap after a long hike.  

Our North Face Minibus 2 is just as cute as ever, so cute that I looked at SP and said, “I think I’ll sleep out here tonight!”  And so it happened:  Our first night under different roofs in nine months.   The Noses, of course, were with me in the tent; Rosco because he would have been devastated to have missed out and River because I didn’t trust that SP would kick her off our bed in Salt.  A dangerous precedent as we both slept so well we might be hauling out the tent more often than not!

And so we settle into what might be our favorite spot so far.  There will be many more pictures coming (hopefully starring some fish!) and at least one DITL hiking video.

-K

PS:  We dropped into a sports store to ask about fishing and ended up purchasing our licenses.  The already helpful man became indispensable when he brought out his laptop and we commenced to converse via Google Translate.  (By the way, a fishing license for me was only €30, but SP’s was €85—I guess they don’t think women will fish as often.  Or, perhaps, as successfully.)