Le Mans 24 Heures 2014...

Well ... what a weekend...!

Everyone knows what the Le Mans 24 hour is...so I'm not going to reel off facts, figures and other easily obtainable snipbits of information here. Google it... This is an account of what I got up to.

My friends departed for the ferry early doors on Thursday, hoping to get there sometime in the afternoon.  I was let off work at 8pm, quickly jumping on my bike and hooning the 300 miles to Le Mans, and the campsite, like an expectant father to be who's just got the message 'it' is coming...

When I got to Le Mans around midnight the roads were grid locked. It took me 45 minutes just to navigate to our campsite, only trouble being I didn't know which colour sign our campsite had been designated. The majority of the 24 hour track is made up of normally public roads... roads that my new satnav app wanted me to take.

There was a particular road that looked a 50 meter jaunt to another road, but it was barricaded off with some 5 foot heras fencing except for a little gap that the workmen had just made, so I shot through and up to the end of the road. That's when I realised I was now sat smack bang in the middle of a huge race track straight. Parked up every 20 meters or so were flat bed trucks and mobile work lights illuminating a huge army of orange clad French dudes setting up armco barriers. One passing flat bed had an oompaloompa on the back just pointing at the barriered entry I'd just blatantly ridden through!

I eventually got to the roundabout with a drunken Ross standing on it waving his torch beam in every motorcyclists eyes. The campsite was just as much a dilemma, with Alex threatening to violently show me how many beers he'd drank earlier that day. So after a few cold ones myself we all retired by about 1:30am.

Alex, myself and Ross partying hard

After a late breakfast that morphed in to Lunch we headed to a small village on the outside of the track called Arnage, 2km down the road. It lends its name to a section of the track, and has some nice bars, restaurants and a notorious section of the high street known to host all manner of tomfoolery with fans and their cars. It was also convenient that there was a bar showing the Netherlands vs Spain game in the World Cup Competition. For some reason though the morning beers had been flowing too well and we ended up walking back to the campsite for a reason I can't remember. Getting hacked off with walking the same unpathed road some of us ended up hitchhiking with relative success.

The Dutch game was a belter by all accounts. Netherlands wooping their arch rivals Spain 5 - 1. I say by all accounts because I soon got a bit bored and instead took my beer outside to egg on the cars and bikes on the road outside the bar. It's such a mad environment to be in. There's motorheads everywhere and all they want to do is spin up their wheels or get their engines to hit the rev limiter, yet the police seem to tolerate it. Its brilliant!

After another, hop skip and a jump back to the campsite a few of us went out hunting for more tyre smoke, getting to the front entrance of the campsite and being met by a huge crowd of people all encouraging the passing cars to get those rear tyres spinning like a yoyo. We got fully involved and ended up pushing the older cars back and spraying water on to the roundabout road so they would lose traction. There was a diverse number of vehicles too, with sports cars, motorbikes, old bangers, mums out in their zafira's and one notable 7.5 tonne truck that I'm glad I didn't fall under when trying to hold it back.

It's not all about the cars... they just happen to be there!

This is all at around 11 or 12 o'clock at a vague guess. It was dark anyway. And then suddenly out came a red flare that lit up the crowd as everyone cheered and engines roared. I'd probably had waaaay too much to drink at this point and before I knew it I was stood in the middle of the road holding aforementioned flare aloft screaming "WHO ARE YA!" at the top of my voice, turning around and thrusting the flare up in the air. For some reason the entire crown seemed to instantly quiet, just leaving the mouthy Englishman screaming something at the top of his voice while waving a flare about. Phil later said they probably didn't know what to expect from me next. Until I casually put the flare back on the floor and walked back to where my mates were standing.

As with any crowd there was a few who wanted to spoil the fun. It was when glass bottles were broken on the makeshift burnout pad that we all collaboratively decided to leave. The cars that were entering the area had no idea there was glass underfoot and would then try and spin up their wheels to impress the crowd, presumably causing some damage and potentially 4 flat tyres. We couldn't take on everyone and get through to them they were spoiling the fun, so chose to abstain and leave.

Not that leaving was a particularly bad idea. We stumbled across a very noisey and lively party hosted by some German or Dutch blokes. There was a good gathering of about 40 - 50 people all mooching about and dancing to the music.

Saturday saw us all taking the tiny land train up to the start straight for a spot of hat shopping as everyone was getting burnt scalps. I woke up to a badly burnt hand from the previous nights shenanigans. Meeting the Michelin man was a pivotal point in my life. As with the French version of Asterix, I tried my best to explain that I couldn't speak French... in French. He didn't care anyway, he just wanted a cuddle.

We continued North a bit and decided to plot near a chicane for the start and followed the race quite religiously for about an hour and a half, listening intently on the radios to the commentary. There was even a little mention about the Dutch rave in the campsite! But as the afternoon wore on so did the consumption of beer and interest soon faded in the race and became more about going to the toilet every 5 minutes, chatting with people from various Scandinavian countries and relishing in the brief rain shower that cut through the otherwise sweltering weekend for 20 minutes.

I think all of us had a quick alcohol induced sleep around 3pm on one corner. Quite how I'll never know as over 50 unsilenced sports cars hooned round the track meters away from us. That evening we watched some live music on the stage and enjoyed England being thrashed 2 - 1 by some Italian people in the World Cup. Kick off wasn't until 12 at night and the temperature dropped dramatically leaving only me, Phil and Alex left standing at the end, wrapping the three of us in the foil lined rug I'd brought along.

Recovery beer at Indianapolis

Sunday was a bit of a nightmare logistically. The 6 of us were all struggling with life, as comes after a few days full of beer. Getting on the bus to one of the other corners of the 8 mile track seemed like our best bet. Getting on the bus was fraught with French favoritism that I've witnessed in the Alps before, so, when no one was looking, I popped the rear doors open and Ross and I lept in just before they closed abruptly behind us, shutting everyone else out.

When we got to the Indianapolis corner, Ross and I went in to the ticketed arena next to the track and waited for a while, cold beers in hand, to see if the others had made it on to the next bus. An hour went by and it became apparent that they weren't coming and we spent atleast 30 minutes waiting in bus queues, walking a bit, thumbing with no luck and ending up back in the bus queue for a 45 minute ride around the track's Western perimeter until we got off at the start straight.

Up at the start straight we had a walk around, checking out the jam packed stadium and eating some much needed food. The other chaps decided to stay down near the campsite so after watching the end of the race on a big monitor in the Nissan garage Ross and I made a leisurely stroll back.

After what appeared to have been an absolutely quality weekend we all decided that we'd splash out on a big meal together as a kind of closing ceremony... You know, a quite one.. ready for the drive home in the morning. Well.... I know we went back to Arnage, and I think I had some sort of sea food, but after that I have total and utter blankness except for a raging fire billowing out of our BBQ back at the tents as we burnt all of the remaining fuel.

I woke up the next morning in a dire condition. Packing away my tent so the others could take it back home before I rode the 300 miles South and back to Moto Camping Dordogne. I made it 2 miles out of the campsite before I had to sleep with my head on the kurb of a McDonalds car park for 2 hours, eat two big mac meals and ride for 5 hours cursing that 'quiet night' we'd just had.

Le Mans isn't just for car enthusiasts.... It's not for the faint hearted.... It's for anyone who enjoys having fun... And I'm going to have fun at this place for years to come!

Run to the Sun...

I've been chatting to Renske, the owner of Camping Moto Dordogne, about working on the campsite ever since I mentioned it the last time we were there... back in September of last year.

In the Euro Tunnel

The plan was initially for both myself and Kerry to work out there for the whole season, however, plans were made and when Renske contacted us again in March Kerry was unable to come and I could only manage a couple of months out of the season, but that was not a problem.

I booked my Euro Tunnel ticket through Tesco Clubcard and was all set to leave on Monday. I expected to ride half of the way there, grab some food and a nights kip in my hammock, to then continue the journey and arrive in the Dordogne on Tuesdays. That was until I'd heard some girly friends of mine were at Disneyland and invited me to crash in their hotel.

Notre Dame

The ride in to Paris was very wet. I had to try and get my all in one rain suit on at the side of the road, which isn't exactly easy when it's dry, now I was doing it in a torrential downpour which kindly stopped once I'd ridden another 2 miles. But I made it to Paris fine and had a nice ride about until I reached the road where my friends were staying in their hotel finding a comfy bar to settle in until they got back from Mickey Mousing around.

After a few texts it soon turned out that they wouldn't be back until the evening. I asked the owner of the bar if I could leave my panniers and helmet with him whilst I went for a stroll around Paris... to which he said "It iz not a Bomba non?" in a thick French accent. He put my stuff safely in his bomb proof cupboard and I was free to do as I pleased, walking down along the river to the Notre Dame which I didn't realise had one of these big bridges with millions and bigillions of padlocks all interwoven on it.

Disney Princess's

In front of the massive, yet gradually more boring (as I am finding these religious sites) church of Notre Dame was a more interesting bread exhibition, if you can get your head around the that fact. There were demonstrations on kneading and the different plaits to make different shapes.

Then I thought I'd wile away the time in a few different bars. One particular bar was in the middle of a square and neighboured a Nike running shop that just so happened to be hosting a 10k, women only jog around the French capital. The waiter in the bar came out and sat with me as we were entertained by hundreds of women clad in running gear, stretching and chatting before a guy with a boombox on his back started pumping music. He gave a little speech (in French) and then they were off.

I rescued my bags and the girls finally met me at a small bar near their hotel. We had a few drinks before getting a relatively early night. I got a pretty good kip lying on their floor, enough to snore! (Apparently) In the morning I said my goodbyes and started the long trek down to sunnier climes. This time not getting caught out when the rain came as I wore my suit the whole way. Surprisingly I recognised the way once I'd got to a small town called Gourdon and didn't need to use and satnav.

So what am I doing at Camping Moto Dordogne?? Well, primarily I'm the Handyman but get involved in being Barman/Chief Pool Tester and Underwater Ceramic Detailer (Washer Upper). I've been given a nice little caravan to live in and have my bike to nip out and about on these wonderful roads. The campsite is owned by a Dutch lady, Renske, and mainly attracts Dutch and British motorcyclists looking for a party atmosphere in the middle of spectacular surroundings.

These two are Ollie and Vincent. Ollie is a special type of Water Dog from the Dutch province of Freisland, where Renske comes from. They are trained to be gun dogs and used to retrieve game from wetlands. His coat is very thick and curly with a sort of wax texture so we doesn't get wet in the water. He's a 'Lone wolf' and just pootles about doing his own thing. Vincent on the other hand has been nicknamed 'The Shadow' and he has specifically taken a liking to me, following me around for the entire day until either I or he goes to bed. He loves sticks and I can be busy mowing the lawn or fixing something when I turn around to find he has yet another stick. His mother had a nipple infection and bit his ear off when he was 3 days old because his suckling hurt her. That's why he's called Vincent after the famous van Gogh who severed his own ear off.

A toad I fished out of the pool who then
hopped off happy as larry

My normal daily duties include putting Robbie, a robotic pool cleaner, in for his morning work, fishing out all number of frogs, toads, salamanders, mice and rodents that manage to find their way in to the pool, most dead...some still alive. Then I tend to the grounds, mowing the lawns, strimming the verges and weeding the flower beds. The pool has to be kept at a certain pH level and have a specific chlorine content. Then there is the handyman things with people breaking stuff or new bits to install. Heck, even watering the plants takes me an hour, and can only be done at night once the sun has gone down.

During the afternoons I like to chill by the pool, go for a ride out to any number of local scenic spots or chat with the guests on the terrace. It's been getting really hot recently. Sometimes as hot as 35 degrees C!

The people who turn up are the real attraction. Chatting to one English bloke, Brian, the other day resulted in a lot of lust for the road. He'd been made redundant from his job and his wife had left him when he was 40. He then walked around Europe and Northern Africa for 2 years, working as he went and sustaining himself. He ended up in Israel where conscription was still enforced for every 18 year old, male or female. Anyone in the Israeli army must carry their weapon 24 hours a day, even when off duty. So it wasn't a strange sight to see a young lad shopping in the supermarket with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder. Brian had to ask one young lady to "Please move that Uzi so it isn't pointing at my crotch" when he was on a local bus. He said she smiled but didn't move it.

Then of course the bikes. And everything from old 1974 Moto Guzzi's to brand new BMW's and chopped and customised Harleys and cruisers pass through. Some even have trailers and huge tents! The number of people riding with their partner on the back is also quite surprising. Perhaps It's something Kerry and I could do?

But now I'm packing my bike up again with just the essentials as I head North for 300 miles to watch the Le Mans 24 hour race...

Home, Hammock camping and parties...

After a relaxing week in Amsterdam it was time to touch down with reality...

There always seems to be a few administrative things to get done when I'm back in the UK. Whether that's to do with the property I let out, Self assessment tax, vehicle licensing, MOTs, Insurances etc etc, so it always takes a few days and a couple of books of stamps to get it all done. But once it's done I'm happy in the knowledge that we can drive, ride and crash whilst being on the right side of the law.

I say ride because I've got a new motorbike! A lovely Kawasaki Versys 650 with a Givi top box and scott oiler fitted. She's really nice to ride as you sit upright and feel like your 'inside' the bike rather than on top. Kerry gets on great riding pillion, especially as she has the top box behind her.

She came from a friend of my Dad's who only bought her last October to ride through the winter months before taking receipt of a brand new BMW GS1200 last month in March. Over that period he only put 700 miles so I was fairly confident taking her in for an MOT and she passed no problems.

We have some really good friends and it's always a pleasure to meet up. Whether for a good tasting home cooked meal, Jaunt down the pub, or, my favourite, we all meet up for a big buffet style Indian dinner.

Ross wined and dined us one evening with a Jamie Oliver 15 minute meal... quite an impressive Chicken Laksa which is a type of mildly spicy noodle soup with lots of coriander and a nicely marinated piece of grilled chicken. I enjoyed it so much I attempted to cook it over at a different friends house, Claire, but I've got to say that Ross's was better! It's quite nice to not be cooking every day! Even though I have been keeping my culinary skills in check and cooking for my Mum and Dad.

Ross's Chicken Laksa

The van came out of storage ok once I'd charged the battery up. For some reason the solar panel had developed a fault with the controller and stopped charging them, however after a 5 minute reset all was good and it started to pump power in to them. I was a bit concerned for her over the winter. All we heard whilst we were in the Alps was of the torrential rain and howling winds that seemed to last 3 months constant. But the field where she was parked had good drainage and non of the nearby trees came down on her.

It took Kerry and I a whole day to sort all of our stuff out and remove it from the van. We threw a lot away, which is a great achievement seeing as everything we owned fit in to a motorhome! But we've slimmed down even more on stuff we didn't think we'd use again. The hoover came out and the inside cleaned from top to bottom, then I had to fun task of washing the outside of such a big vehicle, climbing on the roof and everywhere. All of this was so that she could go up on ebay and be sold. She's a good van and done us proud through 4000 miles of European roads, even if we did have to stop for a bit whilst she was repaired. Mind you stopping in the South of France isn't exactly a tough job!

Within a couple of days of the ebay listing being active I'd had 3 phone calls, one from a very interested guy who was due to get the train from Cardiff the following weekend. Well... If someone is prepared to get the train to come and view the van, I don't expect they would want to get the train home again! So I was confident that there was a sale in the near future. Nevertheless I had a viewing with pleasant couple from Brighton midweek. They were very interested and offered good money should she pass an MOT that they would pay for.

So we got her booked in for the Thursday and unfortunately she failed... Leaking fuel from the return hose on the injectors. The guy buying it said it shouldn't be much of a problem, but wanted to drive to his house to have a closer look. On the drive back we were chatting and he suddenly said "Aww heck, I don't need to have a look, Let's just go inside and we can transfer the money over now". And with that Mildred was sold. The metal's gone but the memories remain.

So now it was time to earn some money... And it was convenient that my Dad needed some work on his house. Throughout the very wet winter he had water pouring in through every wall. The mortar between the bricks was not up to scratch and the entire house had to be re-pointed. Basically my job was to spend hour after hour grinding the old pug out with a 4 inch grinding disk, then knock up a gauge of new gear ready to be squirted in. Sometimes it was mind numbing work, but after a few weeks we had finished and I was no longer pulling dust out of every orifice.

I also got back from the Alps to a lovely Christmas Present from my Mum. A DD Travel Hammock, a sort of camping hammock that can be used either as a bivi on the ground or strung up in the trees as a hammock.

I chatted with a guest in the French Alps about camping and it transpired that we both watched the same bushcrafting people on youtube... Mike got in contact when he knew I was home and we setup a little excursion to test out my new hammock. Mike is a tree surgeon during the day and so was in the best profession to teach me some useful knots and, having his own camping hammock, was a useful guide when it came to setting up the hammock and sleeping in it for the first time.

To say I had the best nights sleep I've ever had camping would be an understatement. When you get in the hammock it is like getting a big hug from all sides. Lying in the hammock diagonally means you sleep flat instead of the banana shape you expect. We stayed for two nights, cooking on an open fire, whittling sticks in to eating implements (partly because I forget anything to eat with!) and generally catching up, wilderness style. I learnt a lot and I have Mike to thank for that. Hopefully we can get some more nights under the stars this summer.


So my Dads house was now ready just in time to throw a big party. We spent a few days getting the garden and house ready, battling some 70 mph gusts of wind that resulted in one severely broken gazebo and 3 others tied down using every piece of rope available. He brought in 3 barrels of beer from the brewery he is a syndicate member of as well as a fish and chip wagon turning up later in the evening.

It was a brilliant night, meeting some of his old friends for the first time, catching up with his friends I knew, telling stories by the camp fire and finishing up in bed at about 3am! As parties go (and for an old boy) he sure does know how to throw em.

One day to recover from the hangover, then a little 650 mile jaunt down to the Dordogne region of France... To work on that campsite... Yeah... the one with sun, swimming pool and hangovers!

Proost! ... (Cheers!)...

And with the stroke of a pen our season was over...

If you can remember the End of our Season last year, it wasn't a fun affair. This coupled with quite a few other reasons really put Kerry and I off of working in any other resorts. However, the decision to hand our notice in this year was primarily mine. I found working the chalet a lot more difficult this time round.

Working seasons was now a job and not so much a pleasure. The snowboarding was still awesome, and something I want to do every single winter until I physically can't, but waiting on people hand and foot nearly 16 hours day was grating a bit on my patience. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I wasn't happy, but I wasn't enjoying myself as much as last year, and Kerry said that it showed in my persona... So we both decided it was best to jack it in and start new adventures.

We worked our notice and ended up leaving just 3 weeks short of the end of the season in Sainte Foy, avoiding the dreaded transfer to another resort. So what would I do with this years season wages? Get constipation in Tenerife? Tempting though it was I decided to meet up with the boys and have a week long excursion in my favourite city... Amsterdam.

Friends of mine, Dane and Alec, and I hatched a drunken plan over Facebook and the day after landing in the UK was meeting Dane in the bar at Gatwick Airport again headed for the most efficient airport, Schiphol. Unfortunately Alec couldn't make it just yet, with a few more days work in the Army before his redundancy started.

I'd bought some blinging new shoes in the day I had spare between getting back from the Alpes and heading off to Amsterdam. This also meant I didn't have time to check them out and 'wear them in' as my mum was always telling me when I was young. That first day in Amsterdam was pure hell on my feet. The shoes fit but were slightly too small. Not by much... In the shop they felt perfectly fine... but with a city break comes a lot of walking and I was now learning that that slightly too small pretty much meant did not fit.

And so after a few visits to the coffee shops we were walking in to a BHS style department store looking for the cheapest shoes they had. The result was a pair of weird plastic topped trainer/loafer that I did not like but fit lovely. I doubt I will wear them ever again once I get home, but for now they were a god send.

Dane took us both out one night to visit his favourite bar, the Gollem bar just South West of the main Dam Square. It was a nice place and we must have spent hours in there, chatting and catching up like good friends do. The variety of beers on offer was also impressive and we slowly made our way through at least half, trying to remember our favourites but forgetting the next night when we popped in for a couple. The cheese board was also good and went very quickly as we thought the bar's cat would eat it all as it prowled around between the taps.










One drunken evening we met up with some dude. I can't remember how we got talking or where we met him, but he came back to our hostel for a few 1 Euro beers before heading in to the bright lights later on. He was a nice English chap from somewhere in the Midlands I think. We shared a few drinks and smokes when suddenly, and through a bit of a slur, he declared it was time to go home (presumably his hostel?). I glanced at the clock and it was nearly 4:30 in the morning. I think we were all a bit worse for wear and Dane and I staggered back to our hostel, happy in the knowledge we'd put on a good drink!

Dane, Kathryn and I

Our next chance meeting was Kathryn who we randomly got talking to in the middle of Dam Square. Can't remember what we spoke about (We are in Amsterdam!) but I have her on my facebook!

It was time for Alec to be set free from the Army, and he made the drive from his Army base in Germany to the northern part of Amsterdam where we wild camped with Mia. Its the perfect place to leave a vehicle when venturing in to the Centre of Amsterdam. So after an elated meeting in a supermarket car park, we set off on the 10 minute walk to the ferry and it felt good. The 3 musketeers were together again!

However, the trio was to be short lived as Dane was to fly home that evening for another flight hours later to Las Vegas on a work exhibition. So we set to work! Beers were drunk, coffeeshops visited and we made the most of the afternoon ending in a nice little farewell dinner.

Alec booked in to the same hostel as Dane and I and after a little difficulty explaining that I was checking out, but checking in as well on another booking, were told that we had the same beds. Alec climbed in to Danes bed that night and remarked that it was a little weird!

The only real touristy things other than Coffeeshops we did was a little torture museum just off the Damrak. If I'm honest it wasn't too great, there was just one room with a few strange apparatus' but mainly pictures of gross ways to kill someone. I'd always recommend the Amsterdam Dungeons for this sort of thing, but the torture museum was a lot cheaper.

 It was really nice to see my friends again after a long time apart for one reason or another.

Soooo much Snoooow....

We've had a few friends come and visit us...

Coming out to a mountain is different, it's why I do it, (that and a small thing called snowboarding!) But every once in a while it's nice to have some familiarity, and what better way than with friends?!

Ben and Lindsay were just guests last year... People who arrive on a Sunday and we look after... until the following Sunday... Holiday makers, you've probably been one? But Ben, Lindsay and a few of the other guests on that week turned in to friends. When you finish the night pilled up like a Jenga set on the dining room table, you know you've made a bond!

Ben, Chris, Me and Laura

And when I say friends I mean Facebook friends! Oh yes, that epitomy of stalker tools that let's you follow every single geographical movement, which, along with this blog, Ben followed us rambling around Europe through the summer season. He also picked up straight away when we posted that we would be returning to the chalet we ran last year and sent us a message giddy with excitement.

Kerry and I had hoped that Ben and Lindsay would return... A good set of guest means a good week in a chalet, not only for the guests themselves but for us, their hosts. So we too got excited about their return.

We were all doing the snow dance and man did it pay off! The beginning of the season was a little patchy on snow. Still ride able, just not what we were used to from last season. We had buckets of snow the week before Ben arrived and the week was made up on riding some very fresh powder on one of the emptiest weeks of the season.

Our manager and maintenance guy came over from Tignes one day and we blasted round the mountain finding all the best bits until early afternoon when Ben and I gave them an initiation to Crystal Dark, an off piste, yet piste poled run, on the far right hand side of resort. It was so lush, it seemed that hardly anyone had been down it and I don't think we saw a single soul in the 4 or 5 runs we did consecutively...

Crystal Dark was re-named Crystal Meth... Once you've done it once it's sooo addictive, especially in these ideal conditions. I posted what was meant to be comical comment about loving Crystal Meth which backfired as I received worried and concerned comments and even an email from my Dad who doesn't have Facebook! Don't tell porkies about doing drugs kids! There's too many people that love you!

A few days later and a bit of chaos came to town. Ben and I were out, first run of the day, head to the top and cruise down the piste to a little off pistey bit ... Normal routine really. I shoot down the piste and sit on the top of a little hip ready to make the decent in to the powdery stuff. Turn around and Ben's had a little spill. Normal routine really! (We are boarders!) Little falls etc are common place with boarding, if your not falling your not trying... So I turn back to the mountain to plan our route down, after 10 seconds or so turn back to see if Ben is ready to set off.

He's still on the floor. Not normal routine. Normally you bounce back up, ride down and make up some excuse like you were trying a 'Backside Double McTwist off of that little lip man'. Ben finally gets up and gingerly makes his way down to me, clutching at his arm. Apologies are flying by this time and I assure Ben there's no need to be sorry, are you hurt?

      "I think I've done something to my shoulder, just have a quick feel see if it feels wrong compared to my other one"

So I'm stood there in the middle of the piste giving what either looks like a very hands on prep talk to my friend, or an impromptu massage. One things for sure, Ben's shoulder is not right!

Even through his ski jacket I can feel that his right shoulder has an egg shaped and sized 'lump' coming out of it. That's not right. Ben is confident he can make it down the mountain so we both make a slow but steady decent, mainly on our heel edges, until the top of the first lift where we unstrap and ride the chair lift down. In the mean time Lindsay and her sister are still having their snowboard lesson so Ben and I settle down on the sofa to research exactly what could be this protrusion sticking out of his shoulder.

An AC seperation is the most likely cause, basically where a big bit that is meant to be held down, is sticking up. I'm a doctor in the making! I know it's serious when Ben asks me to sit on the other sofa so he can lie down as he feels sick. Lindsay came back around lunch time and she packed a bag to go down to the hospital in Bourg with Ben.

A day later and only hours after having an operation to get some wire work done in his shoulder and Ben is signing himself out of hospital to come back to the chalet... Our cooking must be good! I was gutted for Ben. He'd looked forward to coming back out to the alps for so long and we'd chatted about it online for weeks before. Now he was unable to board for the last 2 days. But I guess that's the risk with 'Xtreme' sports.

I just don't know how, over 2 seasons, I haven't hurt anything yet?!

Kids kids and more kids...

We've just had 3 weeks of constant kids.

And kids are great. They think your the bomb because you've got a snowboard and they are on ski's, you can kind of get away with play fighting with them, and if their naughty you can also kind of get away with giving them a bit of a telling off.

Getting attacked by the twins

Our first bunch were Isabelle, Martha and James. All lovely kids with very different personalities. Martha couldn't resist but try and be in every single video shot, James begged me to follow him on the jumps and Isabelle, slightly older, took all this is her stride with an elegant swoosh past me.

We could have done with a few relaxing weeks larking about with those guys but we were straight in to another week, This time with 4 kids from two families.

The Brebners video comes first and shows just how crazy the whole family are! Mum and Dad were just as keen to show off their skiing skills (even if this did mean wiping out the kids (or themselves) at the same time!)

And then there's Marnie and Oscar, 7 and 9, for who it was the first time skiing on snow! From Brighton, (Just down the road from my home town) the whole family had a happy go lucky look at life, throwing themselves whole heartedly down the mountain. I especially like Marnie's dog who rode attached to her helmet to give her a bit more bump protection when she fell over.

Oscar has even made his own website over at http://oscaractually.co.uk/ so he can practice his HTML.... at 9 years old! Check it out for instructions to make a Coke bottle explode

The whole family on the chair

Normally I like hooning about in the deep stuff off piste. However, over the last few weeks I've thoroughly enjoyed these kids company and the crazy riding I've had to do to keep up with them.

If you've got kids... go skiing........ If your going skiing..... get baby makin'!

Children add a lot of fun to a skiing holiday!

We finally land back in our Chalet...!

It was like coming home. All those bloody steps!...

But when we finally got a lift round to Sainte Foy with our manager both Kerry and I had smiles on our faces. The resort was lacking a bit of snow but was instantly recognisable. We opened the door to the chalet to a cloud of feathers. People had been in to remove the sofa cushion covers to die them black. But apart from it looking like a chicken coop, she was just as we left her.

We had a week in total to get the chalet ready, clean her up a bit and get the shopping in. Our first week of guests was, yet again Christmas week.

Christmas, New Year, Easter and half terms are... in my opinion... always the hardest weeks. People pay top dollar to come, like thousands per person.. and so (possibly rightly so) expect a lot. These guests were no exception.

They owned multiple 8 bedroom houses, had au pairs and gardeners and pool boys. They shipped their kids off to boarding school, then got pissed off at them when they were around on 'holiday'. It was funny to watch really. But being our first week back in the game it made it hard. Really hard. Like I don't want to be here hard. I got quite depressed.

The snow wasn't as good as last year. Apparently last year was the best snow year in 60 years for volume and consistency with snowfall being spread out over the whole season. This year I was boarding down runs I had boarded last year and suddenly come across a river, having to unstrap and climb over it. That wasn't there last year!

So I got a bit down... but the next week was a lot better. A lovely family from South West Wales stayed with us. They were very Welsh, speaking their native tongue most of the time. It was interesting to listen to... all of a sudden an English word would pop up! I've always loved the Welsh people. I found it very easy hitchhiking in Wales when I did my Hitchventure in 2012.

The fireworks on New Year were spectacular. For such a small resort Sainte Foy definitely knows how to spend some money on explosions. The party games started straight after dinner with the two welsh brothers, 21 and 23 getting very competitive about who could climb around the table the quickest.

A group of 50 odd year old blokes stayed the week after and it was chaos to board with them. But fun at the same time. One bloke in particular just careered around, completely out of control, yet loving every minute.
It was also our first experience catering for vegetarians. There was a couple booked in with the blokes and they didn't eat meat. It didn't go too badly really! I thought it would be mountains more work, making another dish as well as catering for the carnivores. But that wasn't the case. Heaven forbid if we ever get someone who's lactose intolerant, allergic to gluten or a fruitarian! Veggies we can do!

After a few weeks under our belt I now feel more at home, more at ease. It also helped that we had very few bookings and were treated to a week off! There was absolutely no one booked in! I was tasked with picking a new member of staff up from Geneva airport on the Wednesday, but other than that we had the chalet to ourselves!

Home at last!

Meribel and Tignes Le Breviere...

So here we are, lugging the same board bag and holdalls up to London...

We were invited back to run the same winter chalet that we did last year via a facebook message. And, running a little low on cash, decided another winter of boarding on a beautiful mountain wouldn't be much punishment for a few quid.

The coach journey from London to the Alps was not so bad this time. I managed to sleep fairly well and when we got to La Tania were divided up in to a few groups and shipped off to Meribel to settle in to a nice Chalet... not being waited on hand and foot in the companies hotel like last year.

This training week was different to last year. We were placed with 6 other wannabe chalet hosts and given a chalet, a manager and a chef. The next few days were spent learning to cook, clean and generally chatting about the practicalities of running a chalet. Our group were all couples, either people dating or friends who had decided to do a season so it was a really nice atmosphere.

We went out to the bar a few times in the evening, introducing the younger, unseasoned seasonnaires to Mutzig and Affligem, 7 - 8% lagers that seem to catch up on you!

Obviously Kerry and I knew which resort and chalet we were going to be put in. We chose to come back afterall. But the others in our Chalet had no idea where they were going.. and most no idea where they wanted to go. So everyone was excited, including Kerry and I, as Terry, our interim manager announced the selections. Everyone seemed pleased with their placements, some going to Les Gets and some staying here in Meribel.

After a rather boring morning doing the obligatory food hygiene course, we were pilling on to a bus and being taken to resort. The good bit! The bit everyone's been waiting for! Except Kerry and I, as we knew we wouldn't quite get to our resort just yet. We were destined for Tignes Le Breviere, a part of Tignes about the same height as our resort, just 20 minutes round the corner.

We always find this bit a touch annoying as you don't want to get properly settled in, only to move in a week or so, and it's always in the back of your head that your own chalet needs tarting up and organising before you get guests. One advantage was the apres though. We don't get much of a night life in our resort, so going to Tignes I took the opportunity to drink some beer... and drink beer is what I did.

I was out with all the lads from the chalets in Tignes. We had a few drinks in the chalet, then a few more in Vincents bar and finally ended up in the Underground bar The Vault. God knows what happens next, except for me waking up at 7:30, sat bolt upright in a big Chesterfield arm chair with a half played game of chess next to me. My head was pounding and my mouth felt like I'd been eating silica gel sachets. I gingerly got up and looked around the lounge I was in, finally making it to the front door and out on to the street. I was outside of a totally random chalet a 15 minute walk from the one I was meant to be sleeping in!~

Kerry wasn't pleased. She had been out looking for me at 3am, traipsing round the little town trying to find me. Every year a seasonnaire or two are caught out being too drunk and falling asleep outside where it gets to -25 C at night. But I was home safe... thanks to that random chalet.

Kerry and I were treated to a little night time soiree when Evolution 2 invited our manager and a few staff to a wilderness experience. We didn't really know what to expect. But turned up at the prescribed time to find 4 huge yurts setup in the snow. Massive flaming torches were everywhere and we were told to sit on the beanbags surrounding the big fire pit. It really was amazing. After a little while we were given cups of some sort of wine/spirit and paper bowls with hot soup in. It was nice to get to know our manager and the Tignes rep a little more... before we were called in to one of the yurts to sit down for dinner.

The food was good ole French Tartiflette and salad. One of my favourite French foods, and we had wine at the table. All around the yurt were tens if not hundreds of candles. There was no electricity up here on the side of the mountain and everything was powered by fire. Now we were sitting in, what I presumed to be, a very flammable wooden and cloth yurt, with one exit and hundreds of little flames for lighting. I expressed my concerns jovially with Kerry and the others.





Then my fear was realised. One of the girls serving the food had to move backwards to let a hot platter through and when she turned around her fur hood had caught fire! She'd inadvertently leant back in to a candle and now had a foot high flame roaring up behind her head. I heard a few people gasp... the girl was non the wiser... but no one moved! So I lept up and start twacking this girl like she was on fire. She WAS on fire.

The flame went out easily and she nonchalantly turned around and said "Was I on fire?" as everyone applauded. I felt like a superhero! And I sat back down to enjoy my dinner whilst keeping watch in case I needed to whip out my cape and come to another damsels rescue.

Pisa cake and a big long tunnel...

Driving through the tunnel at San Giuliano Terme and opening out with the city of Pisa infront of us was spectacular.

After a day recovering from the night before in Rome, Kerry and I drove through the misty, rainy region of Tuscany to get to a motorhome aire located just outside Pisa, famous for it's leaning tower. But as soon as we popped out of a fairly short tunnel under a hilly section, our spirits were brightened and the hangovers seemed to fade away. The setting sun shone in to the van and a picturesque countryside opened out to the seas in the distance.

Navigating around the Eastern part of Pisa was a little tricky as there was a huge viaduct traversing its way across the town. Unfortunately the arches had a height limit that we could not get under so we had to follow it until we found a broken down section with a road to get through. Getting to the Aire was a piece of cake and we were welcomed by happy faces, a map of the town and a large, fully functional aire with tens of vans in. Not like other parts of Italy!

It seemed this place had it nailed. I can only surmise that the authorities recognised and valued the custom that motorhomers can bring and invested a bit of money to welcome them whole heartedly.

We got chatting to the guy on the front gate and it transpired that his daughter lived just 20 miles away from our home town in Burgess Hill. He gave us a card for an Italian restaurant that she ran and also gave us his card and said to show it if we ate there to get a discount. His title was Colonel!

After a lovely dinner and a few bottles of wine from the nearby Carrefour we got our heads down ready for a day meandering through the streets of Pisa. The walk in to town was a pleasant, mile long, amble. Going through the walls of the old walled city changed the scenery from modern roads to almost medieval looking cobbled streets.

The sun was shining and the whole city felt warm. The streets were lined with soft hues of stone block work and then suddenly open out in to numerous squares. People cycled around and coffee shops were packed.. We are in Italy still!

I managed to get us a bit lost... of which I was quite disappointed. I pride myself in my magical navigatory skills, but Pisa broke me. We ended up walking straight passed the 'Leaning Tower' and out of the other side of the city! But after a quick re-orientation using the river as an aid we were back on track, walking down the same streets just in reverse!

Then it opened out in to the square with the leaning tower leaning at a very scary angle. I didn't realise just how much it lent over! Basically when they started building it they got Bodgit 'n' Scarper in to do the footings. Consequently it started to lean just a year in to construction. It took over 200 years to build because Pisa was constantly fighting Florence, Lucca and Genoa.

See the slight curve?

Half way through they decided to build the top portion at a corrected angle, making the tower actually curved. I thought this was a funny idea. It also means that the tower has either 194 or 196 steps, depending on which set you take.

What I didn't realise was that the tower was accompanied by two other very spectacular buildings, a cathedral and a baptistery. All religious in nature, and all lavished in elaborate masonry and even some gold leaf. The marble used to build them was very white and had come from the same mountains we had popped out of on our way to the city.

All around the plaza was a well kept lawn. There were signs everywhere saying 'Keep off the grass' in all different languages. The only trouble was that to get the best picture you HAD to go on the grass. So we watched for a good half an hour as 4 'grass police' chased and ushered people off of one section of the grassy area, only to turn around and find that 20 other people had just hopped the small, knee high fence 50 metres away. Quite why they couldn't pavement the best sections I don't know. I suppose it kept them in a crazy job of cat and mouse.


Another funny thing to watch was all of the poeple 'holding up' the tower. Except we chose to watch them from a totally different angle. This made it seem like they were at some sort of gym or aerobics class. Either that or training at a Hitler youth camp.

We, of course, couldn't resist, and followed suit with our own homage to holding up the tower. Ironically the tower doesn't need holding up. Engineers stabilised it in 2008, claiming that it would be stable for the next 200 years.

 

Kerry flexing her muscles

The sun was beating down and we had a nice cold beer and typical Italian pizza in Pisa! It was very nice. Again I made the mistake of asking for my Calzonni to be 'hot'. Forgetting that they came pretty darn hot to start with. I struggled through, quenching the burn with pint after pint of beer. Phew!

After another night in the excellent Aire we decided to make a trek home. The van was still making clunky noises and we were pretty tired. The first leg was up in to Northern Italy and passed Torino. Night time set it and we fueled had to fuel up again at an astonishingly high rate of 1.80 euro a litre. Then we noticed that there were lights high up in the distance ahead and decided to hunker down in a small town so we could see the alps during the day.

Upon waking up we were met with spectacular views of the peaks. We made our way up in to the mountains and towards the Mont Blanc tunnel.

The tunnel itself is an amazing 11.6 km (7.2 Miles) long. An astonishing feet of engineering. We paid our 50 Euro fee to use the tunnel and was met with a mutli-lane, gated entry where we sat waiting our turn. Once our neighbours had entered the tunnel the system waited until they were the obligatory length in to the tunnel and then our gate would open, allowing us to proceed. Inside the tunnel was a strict speed limit and we had to maintain 2 blue LED lights between us and the vehicle in front.

All of these precautions were because of a lorry fire in 1999 that showed just how dangerous the tunnel could be in an emergency. 39 people died. The ventilation system forced the smoke down the tunnel faster than the fleeing people and cars could go and the lack of oxygen stalled the engines in the cars. Drivers wound their windows up waiting for rescue but the fire crews engines has also stalled and the stricken vehicles meant they could not get to then truck.

Unfortunately the truck was carrying margarine and flour, two fairly flammable substances. It burnt for 53 hours, reaching 1000 degrees C. Some people say that the authorities compounded the situation by force venting the tunnel with fresh air from the French side, fueling the fire with oxygen.

Mont Blanc tunnel

After safely exiting the tunnel we gunned it for home. We were all Frenched out. Whilst France is a lovely, changeable and interesting landscape... We'd seen it all before and northern France can be a little monotinous with its constant rolling hills and plains. We made the journey from Torino, Italy to Dieppe, France in 12 hours including the tunnel, stopping only for fuel stops. We were lucky and grabbed the last available place on the ferry the next day. Our second stint in Europe was over and we happily, if also tiredly, drove in to Horsham late that evening

The Grand Civilisation of Rome...

Getting in to Rome after dark was a nightmare...

The quality Italian driving only intensified as we neared the city. Instead up here in Northern Italy it wasn't old people in their Panda 4 x 4's but swish looking young ladies wearing high heels carrying a labelled (yet known to me) handbag on their little scooters.

We were headed for a campsite called Camping Village Roma, situated on the street Via Aurelia, some 4kn from the centre of Rome. Well.... The very helpful Navfree app we so enthusiastically adore and swear by decided that the easiest route was through the middle of town. Driving through town in Rome isn't like driving through town at home. Driving through town in Rome is like battling a hoard of orcs with a toothpick whilst clad in a sumo outfit!

Via Aurelia is also a bit of a farce. There are at least 3 streets we found called Via Aurelia (god knows how many others we didn't manage to find!) all of which are a good distance apart. But, finally, after considering hunkering down next to a grand palace, we managed to find the campsite. It was about 11 at night and the price for the nights stay would have been 30 Euros, a fair sum for a pair of vagabonds so Kerry and I decided to park in the train station car park next to it and migrate over in the morning, avoiding an expensive outlay.

Train station car parks, particularly peripheral city ones aren't places to stay in a foreign motorhome. The next day we were disturbed twice by unscrupulous characters 'testing the waters' on our van. One even booted the front wing, leaving a mark, but was very apologetic as he sped off on his scooter. I'm sure, if we had not have been in the van, we would have come back to it and found a similar situation as Barcelona. City visits aren't conducive to van life!

Never the less we persevered and booked in for a couple of nights stay in the campsite, catching the bus in to Rome itself the next day. Rome is a mix mash of old and new. It's obvious that the city is proud of it's heritage. Every piece of architecture was cordoned off and had placards explaining what you were looking at, from huge decrepid religious places, with only the columns still standing, to the famous grand Colosseum. Yet all around was a modern, thriving city. Taxi's jostled for position, tourists looked around in amazement/bewilderment and the locals bustled past as if we were all just annoying moving obstacles.

We walked around looking for food in what was reportedly the food quarter, but only came across little quaint, expensive Italian restaurants or small takeaway pizza type places. So after a little more walking and some increasingly sore feet decided to grab a taxi and head over to our destination for the night.
We'd heard of a funky house night at a night club called AKAB. The tag line of "I fink U Freaky" did it for me! But before the mayhem that is a night out on the town we thought it best to grab a bite to eat. The restaurant we chose was a very swanky looking one. We went full bore on the food as well, having what ever we wanted, starters, desserts, lots of bottles of wine and came out full, and over 100 Euros lighter! So much for Vagabonding! We will put this down as another 'treat' then.

The club was next to a bar and we proceeded to get blind drunk after all the wine at dinner and now beers. The queue for the club was round the corner. Desperate to get in, as I'd just got in the dancing mood, we ambled towards the front to check out the door. It wasn't open yet, but as we walked nearer the doors opened and we just casually walked in front of everyone queuing and were first in the club! No entrance fees, no waiting... just two drunkards bimbling through the night! What happens next is anyones guess. But we landed back at the campsite at 6am still partying in the taxi!

The next day was a write off... I blame my better half! It's always good to have a blow out night... but my word do I feel it the next day. After two days in Rome it was time to move on. Cities aren't places for vans. However we'd researched a fantastic sounding aire located in Pisa and decided to set the compass...North