Backpacking

Our greatest delight on this trip so far has been the opportunity to be immaginative regarding our trip itinarary and work together to figure out how to get to the next destination. Only in the last few days in Menton had we even broached the topic of where to go next, the only decision made was that it was time for Italy.

At 5.30am we awoke to an alarm clock drowned out by the pitter pattering of rain on the embassy roof. If you have ever seen those tricks where the magician is in the box full of water and has to get untangled from the chains, it must look similar to a bystander to see us in wet weather mode ejecting ourselves from the tent.

In a ploom of feathers we managed to pack and make our way down the slippery 317 steps to the station in time. On our arrival to the platform we were greeted by our good friend sunshine. If nothing else, at least our morning wet weather preparation was good practice should it have been pouring.

Our train trip was a mixed bag of decisions, advice and some reluctance to fully commit to any real destination. At our time of departure we had on our person a total of one train ticket valid for the grand journey of 10 minutes across the Italian border. We were advised that purchasing tickets for regional trains on the other side is significantly more economical and thankfully that was the case.

10 minutes later, a few select words in English, French and the only Italian we know (Bounjourno) it was decided that we would go to Monterosso. On further examination of the train time table, a big smile at the surly ticket agent and we were to be seated for almost 5 hours without any food. Our train was boarding in 5 minutes so we took the risk and got on without adequate supplies. At least we had a destination.

Monterosso - 6 May

If we thought we liked pizza before we left for Italy, it was now a matter of life or death. You know you are in Italy when you can walk straight off the train into a pizzaria on the platform. Seated on the corner of the balcony overlooking a glorious sunny day on the Mediterranean we devoured two whole, thick based pizza with gusto. Camilla exclaimed in no uncertain terms that she will 'Take Italy one Margherita at a time'.

The first rude shock came from the expressionless hotelier at Monterosso (fancy pants hotel something-or-other) that the only camping to be found was at the previous station. Out came the big smiles and we asked for the best price possible on their smallest room. Realising that our entire daily budget would not come close we strode off galantly in search of Levanto leaving behind the mid afternoon sun and Monterosso for exploration the next day.

Levanto - Same day but full of Pizza

Outside of the train station was an easy to understand map that indicated Levanto was blessed with 5 campsites within walking distance. Only trouble was we could not figure out which way was up (truthfully it was time for a siesta after 5 hours on the train) so we remained staring at the map until help arrived.

Help was in the form of 4 decisive and well organised fellow backpackers in search of camping also. The conversation was struck between Camilla, Steve and Rob (NZ) travelling with Sarah (NZ), Kelly (NZ) and Gaelle (Fr) who work in the UK and enjoy short stints to exotic locations in continental Europe.

Before setting up the embassies we enjoyed our first (strong) Italien espresso then floated up to a well selected shared site.

Our new found companions headed off for the evening to walk between Levanto and Monterosso while we got lost for a while in the cheese and pasta section of the supermarket. After dinner we also went for a short hike (5 minutes) to watch the sun set behind a curtain of cloud. What more do you need to get excited about walking this famous coastline.

THE HIKE - Monterosso to Riomaggiore (The Cinque Terre) - 7 May

To commence the famous 12 km hike along the Cinque Terre coast through UNESCO heritage park we caught a train back to Monterosso. A quick loving glance at our first Italian pizzaria as we walked down to the beach to skim a few stones. While Rob, Sarah, Kelly and Gaelle went off to find some breakfast we warmed ourselves on the beach.

Rounding the first cape we could see south along the jutting penisulars where three of the five villages were visible. In a straight line to Riomaggiore it didn't look like much of a hike, together with the change in altitude from Monterosso (6m above sea level) to Lanvazza (4m above sea level) it should be a piece of cake. As we started setting the pace through lemon groves and around valleys Camilla read out the change in altitude for the first leg (6m to 140m+). Unfortunately the fresh ripe lemons were just out of reach as we struggled up the slippery path, thankfully a local farmer was selling Lemoncello which Rob gratefully paid top dollar for.

Puffing, the six of us came to Lanvanzza followed shortly by Rob and Sarah plunging into the ocean. By the looks on their faces it seemed a little fresh.

We ate up the kilometres and arrived hungry at Corniglia, set back high up from the sea overlooking the coast. Only moments earlier Steve exclaimed that it would be funny if they didn't sell any pizza. To our surprise it was infact difficult to find a cheap good feed of the national dish so we landed ourselves in a small cafe / bar for panini. A frozen chocolate yoghurt chaser was the order of the day for us, covered in fresh mint.

The path opened out a little as we passed alongside the railway overlooking a long pebble beach. Again we could hear the sound of pebbles and air popping below. At the end of the bay our feet were hurting and it seemed Rob and Sarah were due for another cool off. Perched high on the cliff the remaining four put our feet up and downed a few cookies while they swam below in the crystal clear water.

Thankfully the final stretch was a short 20 minutes along a well worn path. Signs informed us that it was possible to wear stilletos on this section, however they are forbidden on the rest of the track. Via Amore is the infamous stretch of path covered in graffiti declaring undying love between two romantics. The tradition started around 50 years ago and has since encouraged various fresco modern art.

Riomaggiore, like all of the towns along the Cinque Terre is postcard picture perfect with all the traditional cliches. Little fishing boats lined up neatly, trattoria diners run by local families, cats perched on flower pot lined window cills and cool narrow alleyways sheltered from the sun.

In the late afternoon sun we seperated from the group who opted for the lavish (slightly above a 70 euro a day budget) boatride back to Levanto). The train ride gave teasing glimpses of the boat and bays as we ducked in and out of more than 20 tunnels along the coast.

Pre-dinner drinks was a great opportunity to chat to the guys without puffing and panting between sentences. A few bottles of wine, cheese and crispbread later and it was time to find our friendly local trattoria. Well fed by the end our rest that evening was well deserved.

The Cinque Terre is a fabulous introduction to Italian coastal living, enhanced exponentially by sharing the experience with 4 like minded and friendly travellers. We look forward to catching up with them in the UK if possible and will trade a few hundred photos then.

Driving the Cote d'Azur - 2 May

Driving from Cannes to Menton (on the Italian border) can be completed in two or three different ways. Autobarn - 30 minutes, Freeway - 1 hour, every single little cove, bay, marina, avenue and lookout - 4.5 hours +. Our choice should by now be obviouse to all of you.

Arriving in Menton we had brought with us a pair of numb bums, fresh stocks of tea, tomatos and pasta, around 200 extra photos and glorious recollections of the amazing coastline. Our days to come were solely dedicated to exploring the coast, in particular the seaside principality of Monaco, Nice and our local refuge, Menton.

To add to our excitement, Camilla had selected a campsite high on the hill overlooking Menton and the mediterranean.

Day 1 - Monaco - 3 May

There are a few good reasons to either visit or live in Monaco. The benefits of a tax haven, a casino which is known to lose, a castle and real live prince, and a grand prix circuit that closes down the entire country each year.

Our exploration of this enormous country (less than two square kilometres) began at the casino.

'WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE NOT OPEN AT 10am IN THE MORNING'. Aghast at how they could make any money at all we stormed off around the perfectly manicured gardens complete with scaffolding, holes and workmen setting up for grand prix to the tourist office. 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CANT DRIVE FAST AROUND THE RACETRACK!' Aghast we took their advice and our issues to the palace.

Glamourous living is one thing, then there is being the ruling family of Monaco. Like being the boss of a roast chicken shop there are only 20,000 citizens to keep happy, heaps of Casino income (who knows how) and tourist dollars everywhere. The castle holds a commanding view in all directions over the little empire below. It seemed fitting from this position that we gorge on delicious pastries for a while.

Changing of the guards was our first induction into the formalities of being in a principality. With the throngs of other tourists we clustered around the entrance to the palace to see a parade of fluffy headed muskiteers (alright guardspersons). A marching band and a couple of dozen salutes later and it was time for us to make a bee line to the visitors entrance.

Our visit to the palace grand apartments was guided by an english audiotour which proved both interesting and comical. At one point it was clear that the author of the dialogue was trying to impress the 'Family' with comments such as 'resplendant, divine, exquisite...' and most memorably a single request; 'don't be distracted by the splendour of the throne room and forget to press the green button'. Disappointed to not have seen the royal toilet around the corner we were only marginally distracted by the Palace Throne and thankfully remembered to press the green button just in time for more haughty taughty commentary.

Lunch in a principality is a difficult choice but at last we decided to turn down the personal invitation of the Prince and order a couple of mouthwatering woodfired pizzas. On our way back to the car we stopped off at the post office to get a post card sent home then out onto the promatory for a closer look at the Museo Oceanigraphique. Feeling that the palace was sufficient entertainment for today we did not go into the museum, instead we grasped the handrails tight in the gale forced winds to appreciate this great building.

Time to find out how Monaco looks from the track. The most exciting part about our one hot lap of the grand prix circuit was Steve making formula one car noise as he approached and departed every turn. We don't need to go into detail about the pitch he could reach at the end of the straight so let us just say it was hilarious.

Our betting budget set (AUD$20 - hey big spenders) we strode confidently through the sea of Bentleys, Ferraris, Jaguars and Rolls Royce to stand bewildered at the door. Our entire betting budget would be blown if we paid the 20 euro entry fee (probably in place to ensure they don't go broke again). The casino is a beautiful building so we admired the architecture, watched a few hundred tourists eagerly fork out their daily betting budgets from a distance.

Driving back through the stunning towns along the coast we huddled under the ramparts at Menton for a warm brew. As the rain teased with splatters of gusto we stood firm and felt all the better for it.

Day 2 - Nice - 4 May

The capital city of the Maritime Coast in the south of France is around 1 hours winding drive past road works and buses from Menton. We started late (which basically means we are even more enthusiastic about life if that is possible) only to find out that having a car is a real burden. Unfortunately, the 'beast' needs more than just apple cores and grass to keep it going. As we rounded the Port East into Nice the red petrol light had been on for a good 10 kms.

Finally we snaked our way into a parking station, ran for the toilets (30 centimes), put on our wet weather gear and strode off persistant in our quest to see Nice. 5 minutes later and the wet weather gear came off, our waiter came over to take our order and we sat watching the rain over the rims of our teacups. Adventurous we may be but silly we are not.

Rewarding our diligence the sun came out and lit up the wet pavement, market umbrellas and rocks on the beach. Nice is gorgeous but not our first choice for lying on the beach sunbaking as it is made up of some of Europe's finest skimming rocks. As the waves break they drag pebbles down the bank rattling, and air pops below the surface which sounds like clinking of chains. Very peaceful, add some dolphin sounds and a few waterfalls and you have a relaxation cd to market.

Our walking tour of Nice was more of an amble through the historic streets and stretched as far as the headland overlooking the busy East Port. It is great seeing the maritime activity such as Nice where the large passenger ferries to Corsica depart.

On our way back across the coast to Menton we stopped overlooking a bay for gourmet cafe Hall style sandwiches (Blue Cheese, Avocado and Salami). Tucked neatly inside the bay where two cruiseships actively ferrying passengers to the shore. The smaller of the two was a glamourous yesteryear model while the Galaxy 2 liner (almost as big as Queen Mary) sat proud.

A short 2km detour (totally on purpose) took us into Italy and back again.

Goodbyes are always difficult, first Loustic now the Beast. It was not clear how affectionate we had become towards Toyotas little baby until we were trudging (and puffing) up the 317 stairs to our campsite on the hill.

Day 3 - Menton - 5 May

It has become apparent that there are luxury items we take for granted in Australia. The following list has been composed for your review:

[/list]LUXURY ITEMS WE CRAVE
[*]STEAK (big red juicy slabs of medium well bbq meat)
[*]Peanut Butter - AUD$10 per 400grm jar seems a little steep
[*]Pillows, queen sized bed
[*]English written and spoken language
[*]Wardrobe consisting of more than 4 items
[*]Washing machine, dryer and iron
[*]Free internet
[*]Hair dryer / straightener (Steve is very upset)
[*]Butter, sweet delectable butter
[*]Shower and taps that don't need to be pushed every 2 seconds
[*]Eating at a table with chairs

Today was a thong day. Please note there are only 4 thongs between us and they only go on our feet. We are in need of rest and relaxation so the reference above has become law within the team to ensure the toes do not permanent mold to the shape of our boots.

On Thong Day we spent a large proportion of time on lunch, sitting drinking tea, internet and general louping around. Thankfully the luxury items list was addressed. We ate in a seat twice, wow, consumed a whole stick of butter between us and cooked up bangers (that is as close to steak as we can justify) and mash.

Since we had time up our sleeves we wrote up the following tally for our own reference throughout the trip but thought you might enjoy a giggle. At the end you may realise that independant travel (the only way to go) is not all roses.

TALLY OF BITS AND PIECES (as of 12 May)

[*]CUPS OF TEA - 110 cups (55 boil and mash) in 30 days
[*]ACCOMMODATION - 27 Nights Camping, 19 Hotel, 7 Friends
[*]TRANSPORT (Main Legs) - 3 Planes, 13 Trains, 8 Buses, 5 Metro Systems, 1 donkey, 7 days car (France 450km, Italy 2km), 1 small tourist train, Hiked 84 kms and counting (does not include approximately 10km/p day sightseeing), Kayak 6km
[*]MEALS (Self Catered) - 33 cooked and numerous cold
[*]BAGUETTES - greater than 100
[*]ESCARGOT - 2 meals
[*]NAUGHTY PASTRY TREATS - we will never tell
[*]ICE CREAM - 8 times (just hit Italy so keep an eye on this one)
[*]MACDONALDS - 1 snack (big mac), 2x icecream, 3 toilet breaks
[*]DOG POO - 1 known step in (Steve)
[*]INJURIES - Steve: finger cut from 'knife of death', foot cut from climbing rocks barefoot in Verdon Gorge, Hayfever every second day - Camilla: sore foot/almost blister from hiking 28km in one day, rolled ankle down stairs in Florence
[*]LOADS OF WASHING - 1 (not a typo)
[*]WARDROBE MALFUNCTIONS - Steve, whole cut in jumper and since discarded, set fire to sleeve of softshell; Camilla, cut out of wet weather jacket due to zipper catching
[*]LONELY PLANET - Steve used it as a mallet to put in tent pegs, hence large hole in the back cover (Camilla suitably not impressed)
[*]LEFT BEHIND - shampoo in Cannes, floss in Marseille, compass in Moustiers
[*]MONEY FOUND - 1.50 euros (score)

As you can see we had plenty of time to navel gaze. Menton is a fabulous base for exploring the Cote d'Azur, heaps less crowded than the bigger neighbours and interesting in its own right. Although we opted for the car on both our excursions it would be easy (if not easier) to use the regular bus or train service to any of the famous destinations. To top off a great few days worth of holiday we had the most commanding view from the embassy, a great luxury that could not be topped.

Our day begins with a drive of around 30kms through the winding valley of Verdon before snaking our way down to the Cote d'Azur planned for midday. On route it was necessary to have breakfast as we had not yet eaten and let the poor little stove stretch its legs for a cup of tea.

Hiding from the wind in an open valley would ordinarily be difficult had it not been for a small forgotten church standing out in the field. Leaning against the cold rock wall with the wind whistling past our shoulder we devoured around 3000 kjoules of nutella, bananas and bread (purchased by the kilo). Admiring our little 'beast' we remarked what a great experience it has been to make our own way through this exciting landscape.

Cannes - 1 May

What a great way to start the month Camilla will roll over the half way to fifty mark. Approach Cannes in a car from the north is like driving into the 1960s Surfers Paradise, Queensland. Similarly, the inhabitants of Cannes also look like they were in their prime in this era.

Doing the classic beach cruise up the esplanade in the 'beast' we felt a million cents. A quick glance up from the beachfront scene proved helpful as we simultaneously found the tourist information bureau and the last parking spot on the Cote d'Azur.

Our campsite was easily found only minutes from the action. We erected the Chateau (now known as the Embassy due to religious flying of the Aussie flag) between 4 (probably dozen) gigantic motor homes. If we could be seen from space in our tent already, it would be even easier now that we are bordered by big white satellites.

As if we have not yet learnt our lesson about French and their holidays (always applicable to the public transport system) we learnt quickly that the bus to Cannes was not running. Sucking up the strength to drive off aimlessly in a crowded resort town we found yet another convenient parking spot only a moments walk to the first of a series of marinas and the strip.

The taste of asphalt is not all that appealing yet it was difficult to drag our tongues off the pavement looking at the series of megayachts, classic sailing vessels and power mansions. In chorus we sang 'yep I'd probably be happy with that one but would get sick and tired of landing the leare jet on the jacuzzi, what a stupid design - no I would prefer the helipad to be painted pink to match my shoes... nausiating really. Really, it is a little disturbing seeing so much wealth (Example: two Ferraris under covers by the marina with personal security guard...) all sitting in Cannes unused.

A Tour and lesson 101 - French Kiss, The Movie

Starring Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline the movie French Kiss is one of those classics that due to our marriage is now an integral part of our trip. Camilla spontaneously recites various quotes and has often gasped at random places around France which are recognisable should you watch the movie more than a 1000 times.

Cannes is the location of the movie finale where 'Kate' and 'Luke' figure it out and fall in love. If you think that gives away the ending and you are upset, it is definitely time you hired every single romantic comedy with Meg Ryan in it and realise it was inevitable.

First Stop - Carlton Hotel

Classy, rediculously beautiful and with a price tag to match. Kate finds her cheating rat of a fiancé dining with his younger girlfriend and winds up crawling through the corridors of the foyer covered in cake. We didn't have any cake but the rest of the scene was reenacted as closely as possible.

Second Stop - Cartier Shopfront

Kate exchanges the necklace Luke gave her for her life savings to the cops because they knew Luke stole it. Are you keeping up with this??? Camilla is currently sitting in front of the computer unable to explain the intricacies of the storyline sufficiently to transpose onto the blog, therefore please see the movie. Cartier was unfortunately closed today as they are probably off funding the bbq for the bus drivers, so we just stood outside instead.

Third Stop - Park and Marina

Luke finds out that Kate gave him her life savings instead of him being arrested by the cops...? We ate ice cream as they did and kissed a little bit too (because we wanted to, not just because they did in the movie) while overlooking the marina. A lovely day in Cannes and a great place to explore in the sun.

Back at the embassy we ate like movie stars with an assorted tomato pasta (including tomato and pasta) followed by cold showers (not our choice) and a sniffiling night due to the pollen.

Day 2 - A productive day in the rain

Waking up refreshed to a glorious sunny day was planned. Instead we enjoyed the heaviest downpour and clapping great thunderstorm all night, dulled down by the noise of the freeway behind the site which was not heard previously as you well know there were not any busses.

What to do in the rain? With no clean clothes left and depleating supplies of tomato, pasta and cooking gas we headed straight to the laundramat. Please note that all washing to date has been completed by hand, therefore under the 'luxury items or entertainment' budget there is now journalled two loads of washing and drying. Almost $25 and 2 hours later having sat in our swimmers in the cold we left hugging a warm dry bag of sweeeeeet clothing. Ahh the high life.

So how do you dry thick brown locks of hair in a downpour without a hairdryer. Drag husband to camping store, indicate there is no time limit to browse, promise lunch of roast chicken once hair is dry. Easy.

Our day in the rain passed with plenty of laughs. Although we had planned two nights in Cannes, as the sun started peaking through we decided it was time to leave the cold showers and noisy freeway for greener pastures immediately. Twenty minutes later and we were in the car heading for the famous drive along the Cote d'Azur.

Basecamp shift down the Valley

Leaving La Palud with the favourite sandwich ingrediants procured we headed out of town to Point Sublime to watch climbers on the cliff face. Incredible that people actually challenge themselves to this extreme.

Our view down the Gorge overwhelmingly reminds us that gravity is against us and that hand rails are there for a reason. Sitting at a specially chosen venue on the side of the road (read - Camilla saw a gravel patch big enough for the car, 2metres square) we had a late breakfast of baguette, nutella, lavendar honey and without question a cup of tea. On this stretch of road it is impossible to not be blown away with the sight of huge mountains and green valleys. Amazing what a drop of rain and decent snow melts can do to the earth.

Setting up tent at a new destination has become very routine. Within 10 minutes a dry safe haven can be erected anywhere and sleeping gear laid out. By the time we had camp sorted we both had a funny feeling that the car was not being well utilised. Typically in Australia the average holiday drive would involve hours of dry straight road to mull through. Here we have moved down the valley bombarded with glorious views an entire 40 kilometres with photo stops.

Castellane - 30 April

Castellane is a small town with again (cut and paste) 'winding narrow streets, gorgeous squares, little fountains, and a chapel on a big rock'. If it is there you should climb it, that is the motto for all hardened and exhausted backpackers feeling lazy from the use of a car. Driving around the corner before the climb we set up a picnic in the river bed on dry rocks and commenced with smoked salmon (firtst time since Australia), cheese and avocado - Camilla's favourite. Our standoff with the sprinkles of rain lasted only a few minutes before we retreated to the campsite.

Had we listened to our feet and legs prior to climbing Le Roc, or taken a quick glance at the looming black (BLACK) clouds overhead we may have opted for a second cup of tea before departure. Following the map in our Verdon Gorge walking book it was exclaimed that an essential element of this adventure was to diligently follow the itinerary. Within minutes Steve had us following other tourists up the short cut. The lesson learnt here was that communicating any variations to Camilla is far more important than the shortcut.

On arrival at the top, and realisation that we missed walking through the historic centre of town, we found ourselves tired and needing to rest. At that precise moment the black clouds let out a bellowing clap of thunder that rolled through the valley and around the peaks promptly followed by our good friend, rain. The slippery descent did not encourage us to detour off the shortcut back even though the 9th century ruins in the fields were only metres away. Safely at the bottom we walked past a very welcoming French pizzaria which lured us back for dinner.

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The Verdon Gorge - 29 April

Reluctantly we left Moustiers in the 'Beast' aptly named given that our car is a two door, 1.3 litre Toyota Echo with the power and carrying capacity only marginally greater than a 5 year old donkey.

The Verdon Gorge spills its crystal clear aquamarine river out into the vast Lake Saint Croix. At the portal of the gorge two huge cliffs each well over 500 metres beacon you to explore within like doors on a patisserie. Tired of walking, and reading maps, we opted for a yellow submarine shaped like a two person kayak.

Paddlying below the bridge and past numerous tourist spectators we entered (with the hoards of other frontier explorers). Collossal is not a big enough word to describe the overhanging cliffs up to 700 metres high as we paddle below in the equivalent of a couple of hundred plastic bags melted together.

Other tourist 'explorers' chose various flotation devices including the traditional canoe, foot powered paddle catermarans (with or without waterslide and sun bed) and even electric speedboats (1 or possibly 2 knots at a stretch). It was not long until we reached the cascades not far past the most obvious example we have seen of continental upheaval. The limestone and marble rock was layered at almost 45 degrees giving a true feeling of earths power.

As it became shallower we saw the river stones glide below. Coming in and out of the sunlight we rounded a corner to be faced with a series of massive tumbling and turbulent rapids gushing through the bolders. The previous description is scare the mums talk for easily managable ripples in the water. Our final obstacle seperated team Hall in opinion as Steve gushed with enthusiam regarding our ability to conquer the final upstream rapid. Camilla waited patiently and boatless, giggling quietly into the video camera as Steve failed to even make a stab at the trickle through the rocks.

A lovely afternoon was spent exploring the banks at this narrow neck of the gorge. Lunch was polished off rapidly (punn intended) before our down stream float back to the lake. Some areas of the river are like sitting on a big fish tank with huge trout swimming below. We were thankful that our day commenced and concluded when it did as we saw other paddlers struggling with the wind and current working with us through the gorge.

Our resting point for tonight was a leisurely 30 minute drive to cover around 10 kilometres of the most hairraisingly winding and beautiful roads glued to the side of the gorge. Looking down at the water from the heights gave us a further appreciation of where we were only moments before and how fantastic it is to find places only a few thousand tourists known about.

La Palud sur Verdon is one of those gorgeous yet forgettable country towns in the south of France overrun by walkers, climbers, hikers, campers, cavers, cayoners, cyclists and two little Aussies. Our campsight was originally bypassed without compromise by a now exhausted Steve (guess who did a few strokes of paddling more) only to be returned to once the voice of reason (a.k.a The Wife) made the observation that there is probably a reason why it is busy. Low and behold our tent looked out over the valley for 30 kilometres towards 1,700 metre high mountain framing the town as night fell. A hot shower didn't go astray either.