2. Jul, 2016


THURSDAY 30-06-16

Back on the road again this morning. One last visit to the shower block, complete with the dawn chorus, then a sickly chocolaty muesli breakfast. Even the yappy ball of fluff across the way had learned his place in life's pecking order. 'Henry Horn' had done his job.

Having readied the vehicle for our trip I punched in the co-ordinates of a wine grower just outside of Trier, Germany, where we would join the tour heading north along the Mosel Valley. It told me I had about four hours of driving ahead of me.

It was all motorway for the route, only about fifty miles of which was toll road, although there was a lot of navigating to do as we were continually leaving and joining short stretches of motorway. Never mind, having had lunch in a Rest Area full of fly tipping we arrived here at our Camperstop (GPS:49.738423 E6.659397) about 14:00.

We went for a walk after settling in, we like to find the nearest bus stop and check out the timetable wherever we go. The walk in to the local community was pretty pointless. No shops, just a couple of hairdressers and lots of restaurants and places selling wine. One telling moment was when we passed a house where the eagle-eyed Chef spotted five small plaques, about 8cm square, the same size as the paving blocks around them. Each commemorated a German Jew, who in 1943, when the Nazi's knocked on their door were foolish enough to answer it. In those dark, evil days it was never going to be the Avon lady calling. They all perished in Auschwitz.

The Germans I've observed so far look to me like people who are on their way to their doctors to have some kind of procedure. They know it's going to be uncomfortable, but are trying to put it to the back of their minds. They look a bit stressed, forcing a smile. Early days yet, we'll see. Tomorrow we catch a bus in to Trier itself for a look around. Hopefully we'll then get a better feel for Der Farderland.

Thankfully no noisy kids, no yelping balls of undisciplined fluff, just the wonderful sound of birds singing and communicating between themselves, surely one of the loveliest sounds God gave us.

As I sat having our evening offering from The Chef I could have wound the window down and touched a grapevine within this vineyard, now you can't get closer than that can you?