We have finished up in Utrecht and are on our way back south.

Queenie is ready for another year on the road, or in our case, six more months. In the Nederland's it is almost impossible for non-residents to purchase a car so to get around it, a resident must have the car in their name. That way registration and insurance can be accounted for the vehicle. Donna has been gracious enough to do that for us.

Our return trip involved more than just the road-worthy test (it is called the APK in the Nederland's, MOT in the U.K.). We also needed to renew our registration, insurance, road tax (a killer!!), ANWB membership (equivalent to Triple A club) and new license plates. What Queenie had done to her was get a new muffler, a new butt (oh, did we forget to mention how Bruce bruised Queenie's butt (bumper) in Les Eyzies? Simple oversight, I'm sure - he backed into one of those immovable trees, it is amazing how they don't give!!). The bruise caused a cracked taillight, which the APK techs said needed to be replaced (it still worked, sheesh, how picky!!). Besides these, there were a couple of minor things on this APK list we had to have fixed and they were done with little difficulty.

Possibly the least complicated way for a traveler to do this trip is to limit it to one year's length so you don't have to go through this rigmarole to stay on the road. But we are having too much fun and are notoriously stubborn about such things so we paid up and took off.

Before leaving though, we continued an enjoyable couple of days cruising around Utrecht, getting more comfortable with mass cycling. We finally worked out how to ride among the thousand of Utrecht cyclists - don't take up the whole bike lane. It's amazing how, if you stay to the right, life is much easier. Somehow I kept getting ahead of Bruce and I'd be talking back to him only to discover it was a complete stranger I was carrying a conversation on with. Meanwhile Bruce is behind (considerably) and laughing away at my discomfort with mistaken conversations! At least that is better than cutting off or being cut off by more knowledgeable riders. Now we think we can really become members of the Dutch Bicycle Riding Club, and in fact, we're are ready to take on Amsterdam or who knows, maybe China next!!!!

Our travel growth amazes me. Utrecht was the beginning of our journey and the perfect gauge to measure our experience. As we rode around the city we were constantly reminded of how inexperienced we were when we arrived almost eleven months ago. We originally arrived on Queen's Day, a holiday weekend, and on that first Sunday as we searched for a hotel, we were distressed by how deserted and closed up the city was. This Sunday around noon, we found the city waking up and we realized our first Sunday was unusual because it was a holiday. We spent our first week in Utrecht in sensory overload; everything was unbelievable to us. Almost year later as veterans we can look upon new sights with a measure of understanding in the great scheme of things rather than as awestruck newbies.

In the meantime we are retracing our steps having returned to De Bron campground in Valkenburg, just north of Maastricht, NL. Our next planned stop is a return to Camping du Viaduc in Houffalize, Belgium and then we will visit Dijon (again weather permitting).

Speaking of weather (and when haven't we?) it is obvious that spring is in the air, the trees and bushes are budding and spring showers abound! Where is the sun????

Upon leaving De Bron in the morning and still retracing our steps from the previous week we reached Houffalize, Belgium just around noon, leaving us with the same problem that got us to that town the previous week: it was too early to stop driving. Checking our camping book and calculating kilometers to miles, we figured we could reach an open campground in France late in the afternoon if we got cracking.

Like most travel days, this one was devoted to the rather dull task of driving. We revisited the roads, towns and countryside we had passed on our journey north. The weather was clearer so our visibility was better and rather than the ghostly images of before, we saw the materialized farms, animals and trees.

Holland and Belgium seemed to be suffering from a plague of gophers or moles. As we passed field after field of farmland we saw each field sporting dozens of tiny mounds of fresh-looking earth. The mounds were so continuous and so numerous we semi-seriously wonder if they were used to aerate the farmland? At home we consider them pests and use our water hoses to flush them out or find even more mischievous ways to get rid of them.

As we drive we are constantly passing by old, often decaying chateaus. On hilltops or in little valleys, we'll catch peeks of turreted slate rooflines and know we have passed another. What amazes me is how often they seem in the middle of nowhere and that those lands have been used long enough to pass from wealth and power to neglect and abandonment. Another example of the length of time this continent has been occupied.

Since it is a driving day, I'd like to take the time here to talk about cars. American cars to be specific, and how rarely we see them over here. As you may recall, we have spoken of our contentedness with Queenie and how we wouldn't want to drive a larger camper because of limited access to smaller roads.

Evidently the Europeans feel the same way. All European manufactured cars are compact (as we might categorize them at home). There is a very good reason for this - all those teeny tiny roads that thread their way through the continent. Our mid-size cars are about the maximum to comfortably drive in Europe and the larger cars - forget it! (And please, let's not bring up the subject of gas consumption!) You wouldn't recognize many of the models of cars over here. Some look vaguely American (or perhaps the Americans are copying the Europeans), you think you are seeing a Chevy Cavalier wagon, but really it is Vauxhall which looks alarmingly like a Volvo. American-make cars are rare, the one we have seen most often is the Jeep and the next is the Plymouth or Chrysler Caravan (Lee Iacocca, be proud!). Ford vans are here and Ford makes a serious statement with many car models but they are built for the European market only, we don't see them at home. SUV's are popular, but they are European or Japanese made. (England's Rover series is quite popular.) Pickup trucks are the true rarity though. We have seen perhaps six full-size trucks and 15 compact trucks in eleven months and ten countries of travel - all American imports. The European do not use pickups, instead they have little enclosed panel cars/vans. They have no equivalent in the states. They are about the size of the small Japanese trucks but with an enclosed back panel. Like pickups at home, they are the workhorse of the 21st century here. Paneled vans take the place of full sized pickups, but while numerous, they are not as common as the small ones.

Our destination was Beaune, 30km south of Dijon, where a campground opened this day the 15th, for the 2001 season. We arrived about 5pm, our information was correct the campground was open and we joined three other campers for opening day festivities. This was the nearest open campground to Dijon the city we had promised ourselves to visit. It was a long day and once settled in, we had a light dinner of Cassoulet de Canard and then to bed.

We have been talking a lot of our French fare such as the cassoulets and choucroute (a sauerkraut/sausage/duck dish). We get them at the supermarkets; they are delicious and dirt-cheap. The choucroute dish can be had for $1.75 and the cassoulets are $2.50 each. At Lidl we find the cheese or salmon stuffed pastries and are as happy as clams. Not the top of the line brands but very tasty. Add an occasional 50( baguette and a salad or in-season veggie and we are eating yummy French cuisine for pennies. We intend to stock up on some dishes for later consumption. (We are still dealing with the closed-on-Sunday-we're-gonna-starve syndrome).

Beaune (we pronounce it Bean) is that little city that once was the capital of the Dukes of Burgundy before they moved to Dijon. We passed by it on our journey north and thought it captivating. Our plan was to visit both it and Dijon before we moved on. Queenie worked hard this day and needed a rest anyhow. If the chancy weather co-operated tomorrow we would hit Dijon, if not we would visit Beaune.

Woke up to a gorgeous, clear day. Weather issue settled; we made ready to visit Dijon. We would have to take the train to reach Dijon, a 30-minute ride. We walked to the train station, probably a 2 km walk and began negotiating for our tickets. In the smaller towns English is spoken rarely so we had to rely on a mix of English and poorly spoken French. The ticket lady was cooperative and patient, between her limited English and our limited French we purchased two round trip tickets, declined a discount if we chose to return after 8pm (too long a day we thought) and confidently marched off to Quay 2 where we presumed the train would stop. We had about 20 minutes to wait and watched students (?) arrive and wait on the platform opposite us. More arrivals over there, we were the only ones at our platform (wonder where they are going?). Finally a businessman arrived on our side. An announcement was made over the loudspeaker in French and a couple of minutes later (suspiciously close to our departure time) a train arrived over there. Could that be our train? Did not the announcement board say Dijon, Quay 2? Were we not on Quay 2? Why was that train over there?? We asked the businessman if that was the train to Dijon, he affirmed it and we jumped up, won time trials as we race back underground to the opposite side; asked a conductor, pointing to the train "Ici, Dijon?" he replied "Oui" and we leaped into a passenger car just as the train whistle blew to depart. Phew! Don't know what, but we did something wrong!

After an uneventful 30-minute ride passing the same scenery we have passed two times before, we arrived at the Dijon train station. Quite a large affair it was and we had no bearings yet. We checked information boards and found a train information center, which we headed to. There we got a tourist map of the city and finally had an idea of where we were. We made our way to the Tourist Bureau and bought a walking tour map of the city.

I hate to keep slamming Lyon (which really wasn't all that bad) but Dijon has more charm in just one of its many beautiful streets than does the whole city of Lyon. Dijon has beautiful buildings; just about every one in the old city has an interesting look, and lots of narrow medieval streets with the buildings hovering over them. We realized the buildings were there long before paved streets and when they paved the streets and put in narrow (one person wide) sidewalks the end result was that the buildings seemed to close in on the streets. There is the huge Ducal Palace, now government buildings, refurbished by Mansart (the architect whose distinctive rooflines we first saw in Paris and who, like the landscaper Capability Brown in England, seems to have been everywhere in France) in the early 1700's. Churches, several dating back to 1007 AD (I don't know what happened that year, but something momentous must have) are interspersed throughout the old town. Two churches had an abundance of colorful stained glass windows. For once the sun was shining and we had the chance to see how the windows were made to look with sunshine reflecting through - beautiful! We saw the oldest building in Dijon, built in the 15th century and still standing proud after over 500 years. A whole street of beautiful half-timbered buildings that are only 400 years old (!) still exists.

Dijon is where the mustard really does originate and it is sold in an abundance of flavors; with basil, wine, garlic...we bought the anciennes style (looks like Plockman's at home) with the seeds still intact.

We found the Musee des Beaux Arts (Fine Arts Museum) and bought entry tickets specifically to see the Salle de Gard (Hall of the Guards), a 3-star (top rated) attraction according to our Michelin guidebook. Of course I was quickly caught up in all the fine art but we had to press on and find the Salle. Once upon a time it was a banqueting hall but that was centuries ago. Now it holds the tombs of two dukes from the 13th century, Phillip the Bold and John the Fearless. They are works of art with carved effigies of the deceased on the top and carved angels guarding over them. Beneath are small (about 15 inches tall) carved marble figures of mourning monks who appear to be in a procession through a cloister that makes it's way around the base of the tombs. Each monk has a different face and posture and he is very finely carved!

The hall also has two large altarpieces carved in wood and gilded by masters of their time and these too have individual features on the figures showing all sorts of emotions.

I love museums!!

Finally it was time for us to leave the museum and we saw rain clouds skittering across the sky. By now it was almost 4pm and we were getting tired. We had walked the suggested route and got to see a gorgeous medieval city that had successfully made the transition to the 21st century without losing it's soul. We had put kilometers on our soles and they needed to rest so we hurried back to the train station, found the platform where our train would leave for Beaune at 4:34 and sat down to wait. Around 4:20 an empty train pulled up to our platform and an announcement (in French!) said something about Chalons, the only word we caught. Chalon was the last stop on our train's destination, but this train was early! We sat for 10 minutes and watched people board the train, getting more and more nervous. It was getting closer and closer to our train's departure time and it hadn't even shown up yet. Could this be our train? We asked a mademoiselle what she thought (she didn't speak English at all, so that was interesting) but she was able to say this train was going to Chalon. Yea, but was it going to Beaune? Finally I found a conductor (it was 4:30 now) and he confirmed this was the train. Yikes! This was the second almost-miss in one day. We once again leaped aboard, and sat across from a young college girl going home for the weekend (we suppose). A friend soon joined her and they chatted merrily as the train clattered down the tracks.

The train stopped at Nuits (Nuts to us) St. George and we asked the girls if the next stop would be Bean. They looked at us oddly, then realized what we were asking and replied "Boone-wee" which we took to be a correction of our pronunciation. Ah, that's how you say it, Boonewee. Then we realized they were saying: Yes, the next stop is Beaune - Beaune, oui! We all got the giggles over that one! That broke the ice between the two countries and we joked in broken French for our last 10 minutes together. Beaune (Boone) arrived and Bruce and I got off the train, waving goodbye madly at the girls. We think it would be a lot of fun to travel by train and especially to get a sleeper for a night. Don't know if it's in the cards for a future short excursion but it would be an experience we would like to try.

All said and done, if you ever get a chance to come to France, make sure you visit Dijon and Paris (you can pass on Lyon) both are cities that will delight you and are well worth the stop.

We came home and for dinner made spaghetti and a goat cheese tossed salad with Freeway brand chocolate chip cookies for dessert. A couple cribbage games later in which Bruce cleaned my clock (but is still behind by six games, 125-119) we called it a day and went to bed.

Those skittering rain clouds of yesterday decided to stop over Beaune and squeeze themselves dry during the night and morning. By late morning it seemed we would be making a soggy trip into Beaune. We almost decided not to go to but finally around 2pm the skies quit crying and we grabbed our umbrella (that trusty talisman against rain) and walked into town.

Beaune (or Boone-wee as we prefer to call it) is in the center of one of the greatest wine regions of France. Consequently it has been a wealthy town for centuries. It is has been a walled city since 1368 and has a medieval feel quite like Dijon only smaller. Picture great rock walls encircling cobble stoned curving streets squeezed between two-storied rock/stucco or half-timbered buildings dating back hundreds of years and you might begin to envision Beaune. If there were no cars about it would be easy to imagine yourself transported back to medieval days. These residents live with cobblestone streets as naturally as we do asphalt. Imagine that - they must go to cities with paved roads and think how different a life that represents. I know we were struck by their lifestyle.

In 1443 Nicolas Rolin, a chancellor to one of the Burgundian Dukes made Beaune his headquarters. He built a hospital for the poor, a Hotel Dieu, perhaps to make up for past scruples lost, or out of devotion to the poor, or perhaps because he was getting old, different sources give different reasons. He bequeathed some vineyards to help the hospital pay for itself and for over 520 years, until 1971 it cared for the sick. When he had it built it was an example of magnificence in all ways, from the medical care it gave the poor, to its beautiful design. The sick were cared for by a holy order and they lived in the Grand Hall in sumptuous style. Individual beds built with wooden canopies lay head to foot with mattresses, pillows, blankets and bed coverings. They ate off pewter plates, rather than the more common wooden ones. The sick enjoyed a healthier lifestyle than did the masses at that period. And they lived in gorgeous surroundings. Their spiritual life was cared for here too, in the form of a lovely chapel attached to the Grand Hall. Originally there was an altarpiece commissioned by Rolin depicting the Last Judgment, a spectacular work of art now displayed in a separate room. The building, built around a central courtyard, has roofs of multi-colored tile creating extraordinary geometric designs. We were quite taken with it.

Beaune is another of those little jewels we accidentally discover, like Metz, while traveling the smaller roads of France. We had never heard of it before and it seems it might be off the normal American tourist route. It won't be on your "See Europe in Fourteen Days" itinerary, but if you make the effort to go to Dijon, make sure you go to Boonewee!

Before we leave this campground, I would like to describe it a bit. All campgrounds are different and for the last 2 weeks we have been making due with muddy pitches and less than desirable camping weather conditions. When we got to Beaune we encountered a well laid out mature campground. Very large hardstand (which means either gravel or paved, in this case gravel) pitches with borders marked by hedges.

A wonderful change from what we had been dealing with. No mud anywhere even though it had been raining here as well as the rest of our trail. We did have two problems with it though. When we showered we had only tepid water, which we couldn't understand since the dishwashing water was very hot and, the shower and WC stalls were so cramped that you had trouble closing the door when in them. If I had a towel and my ditty bag with me in the shower, I had to maneuver myself, towel and ditty to get in and out. I told Bruce if anyone fatter than I attempted to use the facilities they would get stuck. The night before we left Bruce went to the WC, came out a moment later calling out "I have to go to reception, a man is stuck in the shower" to which I almost collapsed in giggles. Can you imagine a portly (very) man stuck in the shower unable to open the door and get his bulk though? I could! As it turned out the victim was a small elderly man who had somehow managed to jam the door lock and couldn't get himself out. I had a wonderful laugh over it though.

Ok, we left Beaune to head south once more. We were heading for the Gorge de L'Ardeche and the Madeleine Cave, then on to Orange, Avignon and Arles. We continued retracing our steps south through wine country, only this time as we followed the Saone River to Lyon we found it had overflowed its banks and there was flooding for miles and miles. There was some very serious rain going on since we last past through! Lots of detoured routes due to flooding, buildings sitting in water, it reminded us of our own Feather River when it acts up. And we thought we had it rough camping in mud! It must not have been too common because along a detour we had to follow we saw a man with his movie camera filming the waters.

At Vienne we crossed to the east bank of the Rhone River and followed it the rest of the way. The Rhone was not yet flooded but it was quite full and moving pretty swiftly.

The east bank almost seems a different world from the west bank we drove up two weeks ago to Utrecht. The west bank had miles and miles of vineyards and those little medieval hill towns I am so mad about. The west bank had no vineyards, no hill towns (well, maybe one), its only distinctive feature was blossoming almond orchards. I was amazed that a river could divide two such different regions! The Rhone was supposed to be a frontier region for centuries, centuries ago, and maybe one of the reasons it was, was because the two sides are so different.

We saw the Goodyear Blimp. Yep, the Goodyear Blimp, flying over the Rhone Valley looking like it was looking for a stadium to flash game scores from it's lit up side. Small world!

And finally, after a full day of driving we arrived at our campground just north of Orange. Ugh, what a letdown from the previous nights in Beaune. Set in the woods, it is primitive, not even marked pitches, just a flat space shared by us and two other campers. The facilities are just as rough with unisex showers/WC and thank god it isn't raining because we are back in dirt (and this place cost us more!)

Months ago our fellow Turner Campers, Robin and Alimay, told us about a beautiful cave in the southern region of France. We had been telling them about a few caves we had visited and they said we must see the Madeleine Cave. And so, for months it has been on our list to visit.

Please remember we had lost our one and only tourist book on France when we had our Queenie-needs-a-new-heart debacle so most of our French travels have been like shooting from the hip. (In fact I am very impressed with how much of France we have managed to see in this unplanned fashion.) We did purchase a Michelin Green Guide on France but it is categorized alphabetically rather than regionally, so you have to know what you want to see to use it.

Let me take the time here to recommend three series of travel books that we have found invaluable. Lonely Planet puts out a series of very practical books on various European countries. They include the history (note I have that as #1 on the list) of wherever you are, sights to see, places to stay and eat at varying price ranges, internet access points and loads of other necessary information. Rick Steve's series of books do the same thing. Last but just as important is the DK EyeWitness series of travel books that break down the country in color-coded regions and have loads of photos and maps (including walking tours of various cities), but less explanatory information than the other two. We use Lonely Planet and DK together whenever possible and feel we have extraordinary coverage of the countries we visit.

And while we are on this recommendation kick, let's talk maps. We have found the very best way to get through a country is to purchase a "Thomas Map" type of map book for each country. We have one of Europe as a whole, which is useful, but doesn't give us the secondary and third-ary roads that make touring a country so enjoyable. By purchasing a map book per country we have found scenic roads, campgrounds, historic sites, small towns and all sorts of interesting things that are not marked on the larger scale maps.

And so, back to the cave. Having lost our DK book of France, we couldn't remember where this cave was located. We new it was near Orange and checking our (detailed) map of France we found it to be located in the Gorges de L'Ardeche (whatever that was).

After leaving the campground Monday morning we crossed the river Rhone at Pont St. Esprit to the west bank. The Ardeche is a river that has carved out a most spectacular gorge as it heads toward its meeting with the Rhone. We stopped at St. Martin-de L'Ardeche for croissants, a precious little town and the actual gateway to the gorge. Quickly we climbed the plateau following the river course. Over the millennium the river has cut through the plateau in a meandering course leaving steep, sheer limestone cliffs that are 700+ feet high. We had no idea what we going to see and we were delighted! What spectacular views! About 29 miles from St. Martin, the Madeleine cave lies about 200 feet above the river. We drove down a rather steep road to reach it, only to find that it was closed until April. Drat! This touring out of season can be a bit of a nuisance! We were allowed to walk to the entrance of the cave but no further, so we took camera shots and left. Returning the way we came, we stopped at Grotte de St Marcel, a cave we passed on our way up the gorge. It was open and we thought, better this than no cave at all!

The first tour was at 10:30 am so we bought tickets and waited the half hour. I wanted to cancel the visit when we were told the commentary would be in French (I am getting tired of not understanding what is being said) but Bruce vetoed that and it turned out to be the right choice. We were the only visitors for the tour and we had a wonderful young French girl as guide who spoke enough English to give us a personalized and enjoyable tour. The grotto is the eighth largest cave in the world at 40 km long, with huge rooms and the most beautiful formations left by water flows such as calcite basins descending like fountains and gorgeous stalactites/stalgmites. She explained some of the geology of the area that allowed for the formation of the cave. We spent the whole hour going "Wow!" at each new wonder.

Prehistoric man lived in these caves - there is evidence that Neanderthal lived here 80,000 years ago. We saw a drawing of a bull painted on a wall and our guide said scientists have uncovered other evidence of human occupation. A really surprising thing about this cave was that it was only rediscovered in 1880 and has been open to the public for just over 11 years! Before that it was felt to contain such valuable information that scientists only were allowed to enter it. We missed the Madeleine cave so don't know what wonders it contains, but the St. Marcel was a worthy substitute that we are glad to have visited.

Here is a fact worthy of note: The Rhone Valley formed part of a great migratory route. (I read that and at first thought, what, of birds? Then realized it meant of early mankind.) That explains how prehistoric man got to these caves. There is speculation that the Gorges de L'Ardeche is where the bow was first used and where the domestication of the dog took place. Pretty interesting, huh?

Completing the gorge and the cave excursion, we headed for Orange, site of some more Roman ruins. You may have noticed a lot of Roman ruins in my narrative, that is because I like 'em (so there!) If you are not into old squared rocks piled up you may want to skip the next three months since we are heading into the home base of Roman and Greek antiquities!!

Orange has a 1,981-year-old triumphal arch. It was built by Agrippa (a pretty successful Roman general) between the years AD 21-26. It has reliefs of victorious Roman-Gaul battles, shows Gaul prisoners in chains, sea battles and captured enemy weapons. It stood in the middle of a roundabout at the northern entrance of the city, so the first thing we saw upon entering Orange was this. Although it had that dark grime on it, it was in pretty good shape considering its age and all the cars driving around it each day.

Orange also has a well-preserved Roman theater. It is built in the shape of a semi-circle with this amazing stage wall that is 340' long by 120' tall. It is made of granite and African breccia (?) and has the original 1st century statue of Cesar Augustus in a domed niche in the center of the wall. The statue, about 12 feet tall, was found in pieces and painstakingly reconstructed. The rows of seats were built against a hillside to make construction easier, sounder and cheaper (they were concerned about cost overruns even back then!) The stage itself had ingenious mechanisms of cables, hoists and counterweights to enable special effects like concealing actors and props from the audience. It was a pretty sophisticated setup. I have to keep reminding myself that just because most of these Romans sites are now in ruins, it does not mean they were a technologically primitive society. Far from it!

By this time it was around 2 pm, our day had started at 8 am and we were ready to find a campground and stop. We still needed to do some grocery shopping so we had to track that down as well. We drove through Orange noting again that this was another old city. At the southern outskirts of the city we found the zone commercial where all the large stores are always located. We got our shopping done and drove to Avignon where I did a fairly good job of getting us lost in the middle of rush hour traffic. Bruce was wonderfully patient with me, which was great since I was ready to cut off my own head for incompetence. Finally we found a campground 10 km south of Avignon in the town of Chateaurenard where a ruined chateau lies within sight of our pitch. We made Soup de Poisson for dinner, it was wonderful and our first since Les Eyzies when we shared with Harry. (You remember Harry! The friendly Dutch guy who married into the French Hamlet and had the goat that ate everything? Yeah, that Harry!) That done, we went to bed and read ourselves to sleep.