Two brits four wheels

November 2009

We spent just under a month in Italy and had plenty of opportunity to see and hear the Italians at close quarters. Mama mia!

• Driving: yes we have experienced the aggressive driving Spanish, the slightly sloppy Portuguese and the speed and lack of diligence of the French but the Italians knock the former list into the category of ‘good’. To be fair, the cars in Italy do not show the scars of battle unlike those in France however…Driving in Italy, we found, was crazy. I do not know if their cultural legacy – being a country that hosted chariot racing – at all influences their current attitudes to the road but Italian drivers so not hold back. Expect side roads and give way lines to have no relevance; if you are on the main road just be prepared to break and break hard. Do not be stationery at a junction for a moment. You will get endless horn trumpeting and likely overtaken – on either side of your vehicle. Driving along the motorway hard shoulder so not to queue, well of course, why wouldn’t you. Bascially driving ‘rules’ in Italy seem to be ignored of forgotten. But, when you see the traffic queues on some roads you sort of understand where these people are coming from (metaphorically).
• Shopping and getting things done: outlets may open at 8.30 or 9.00 am then are likely to close around 12.00 or 12.30 and re-open at between 2.00pm and 3.30pm and close a little later – perhaps. This is pretty much the Mediterranean pattern. For fresh produce, cheese, bread and so on you want to be shopping in France, certainly not in Italy. There is far less variety of breads and cheese in Italy and they really have not cracked the arts of pastry making.
• Smoking: yes, the Italians like a puff or two but less than their French neighbours and far, far less than the Spanish.
• Families and groups: we had little exposure to Italian families so cannot comment on that, however we did see Italians interacting a lot and this was quite something! The Italians we met appear extremely stressed and impatient. This was seen in the driving of course. But it was quite a common feature to see people ‘chewing each other out’, especially in the boss-woker scenario. Although the language was out of my grasp, the body language, mannerisms and reactions were pretty clear: ‘You are a fool, you cannot do this, now do it like I AM SHOWING YOU’. This play was repeated in different contexts. Accompanying this was the quintessential Italian arm waving and hand gesturing and a big rise in verbal volume levels.
• Food: Food is typically served in courses that are bizarre by British standards. For example, in the UK, if you order steak, pasta and vegetables meal then you would pretty much expect to see these arranged on your large dinner plate and off you go: munch, munch, munch. Not in Italy my friend. Here you might start with some cold vegetables or bread or whatever as l’antipasto, then, in this example, your pasta would be Il primo and your meat would be Il secondo. You would also have to order vegetables as Il contorno, your side dish. Here we are then, the £12 main course in Britain successfully turned into a ‘four-course meal’ for about €22. Also, you wait about ten minutes between each ‘course’. Now, the latter point is actually a healthier way to eat and a better way to stay trim but the overall approach of four ‘courses’ certainly achieves this by through the consequent impoverishment. Pasta is seen in abundance and there are pizzerias just everywhere. Pizzerias are the Italian chip shop. Par for par, by establishment, Italian restaurants will offer a more interesting variety than their French counterparts and the food is generally tastier.
• Respect for the environment: we did not have a lot of evidence one way or the other except that the air quality was quite hard to bear at times due to a lot of diesel engine output.
• Languages: most Italians we met spoke English and did so well. Like most of Europe there are songs in English being used often and some English snippets in things like radio advertisements. Many public notices and signs appear in Italian, English, German and French. At the least, Italian and English.
• Attitude to motorhomes: France probably has the biggest representation of motorhome owners and users. Italy comes second. However, unlike France, Italy is not so attractive for motorhomers. Firstly, the aree di sosta (Italian equivalent of Aire de Service in France) often comes with a hefty charge for overnight parking in the order of €10. It is hard to find pieces of public land to just pull over onto and park up overnight to wild/free camp. Many car parks in Italy have height barriers and there are no-motorhome signs frequently. In contrast, most autostrada service areas have motorhome rest areas and motorhome servicing facilities (for a cost).

October 2009

Having been on the road since May without issue, this morning we discovered a crack in the windscreen and damage to a side window following some suspicious noise the night before.
Erica awoke at a loud noise, roused me and I glanced down inside the van looking for what I thought must have fallen from the ceiling or elsewhere.
Apparently (I was asleep by then) there were voices outside too.
Some morons had thrown something, perhaps rocks, at the windscreen putting a reasonable crack in it.
To get a crime number I had to file a report at the local Gendarmerie, in my best French; so the report we were given might actually mention the conspiracy to steal a cow from my cousin Pierre but I went through the motions and made my statement.
Curiously more time was spent checking my identity documents, the vehicle documents and the insurance than eliciting the essence of the great crime in an Inspector Clouseau way.
That all said, the local Gendarmerie were very courteous and very friendly – a treatment and attitude I am not accustomed to in the UK.

October 2009

Taking a ferry from Livorno, Italy to Bastia in Corsica was a pleasant four hours courtesy of Moby Lines, €100 and a calm sea.

Arriving in Bastia soon wrecked that calm however. Driving in busy towns or cities in a motorhome does generally wreck one’s calm in moments. Bastia, with its very small town centre – a theme shared with Calvi and Ajaccio (the capita) – provided many such driving stresses.

Busy French towns and cities really are busy by UK standards. As there always appears to be too many vehicles for the available space the adept French motorist will do just about anything and do just about anywhere in order to go and get their baguette or sit down for a coffee with friends. Examples of such parking being to park in front of no parking signs, park on the corner of busy junctions, park in bus stops, on pedestrian crossings, on pavements or double park in the lane of a busy road. In fact I witnessed the latter outside a ‘Game’ (software game shop) in Ajaccio. A police car came up in that lane, stopped behind said offending vehicle and whooped its sirens and put on its flashing blue lights. The driver ambled out of Game with his software-filled shopping bag in hand, went over to the police car, grinning and agree to move his car. The police car sat there the whole time. He fiddles around in his car for a bit, put on his seat belt, started the engine and just as he was about to leave he spotted a friend in a car in the adjacent lane that he was gracious enough not to block. His response? Have a quick chat with his friend; now they were both blocking the road. The police car just sat there patiently with blue lights flashing. After twenty seconds of pleasant exchanges between the drivers the young gamer finally proceeded to clear the lane. Any UK driver would know not to double park, would have looked very sheepish to the police and would have been lucky not to get a ticket, let alone show little urgency to move on and chat with mates across two lanes of a road they were blocking. This is the unique French driving experience.
The Corsican people seem to be generally very pleasant, much like mainland French: they exchange pleasantries, are happy to hear you speak (mangle) their language and can chip in with some English if they feel it necessary.

Corsica is a big island but feels small, as most of it is very mountainous and not inhabited, so people are packed into communities. The driving is quite tiring as the roads are extremely bendy both horizontally and vertically.

Arriving in October means that most campsites are closed for winter. As we discovered on arrival, Corsica has a no free-camping policy so it is illegal to do so. However with virtually no campsites open you have to park somewhere. A couple of days into the journey we discussed this with a person at l’Office de Tourisme and they explained a ‘tolerance’ for free-camping in the winter months. In other words, the authorities turn a blind-eye.

By contrast in summer, given the difficult road network, the compact town centres and the increase in visitors, Corsica must be busting to the seams. I think I would prefer even less to move a motorhome around the island in the warmer months.

Bastia was too difficult to park in so we aborted and headed north to Cap Corse. The Cap is like a pan handle that is mountainous and forested.
Calvi is a relatively pretty town with an up-market marina, a ferry terminal and a range of restaurants and bars although they mostly seem to specialise in ice creams.
Ajaccio, the capital is much more a large town. There are retail areas outside of town, busy bus routes and lots of people. It is a cruise ship stop. There is an old town centre to see and Napoleon’s birthplace is there. However, on visiting the Cathedral there, were Napoleon was baptised, I did manage to break one of the old pew chairs as I got up. I had to explain this, in French to the caretaker; he was very good about this and pointed out all the other chairs broken over time. Phew! I did not want to be known as ‘the Englishman who vandalised the cathedral of our great hero Napoleon’.


Porto, as seen in the photo below, is a very pretty little town that straddles two adjacent coves. It lies between Calvi and Ajaccio on the coastal road and seems to have little function other than a place for tourists to stop and do/see things whilst on-the-coastal-road- between-Calvi-and-Ajaccio. In other words it only exists to serve tourists and tourists only go there because it exists (to serve tourists), else it would simply be a nice cove to see for ten minutes, take sandwiches, have a leak and move on elsewhere. On this tour I appreciate how much tourism contributes to communities and economies.

I am currently in Propriano, another marina town with a ferry terminal. Nice restaurants, bijoux shops and even bio (organic) produce shopping. A very large private yacht is moored here with a British dependency ensign flapping vigorously in the wind. Next stops will be Bonifacio, Porto-Vecchio and then presumably Bastia to make our exist back to L’Italie.

I had hoped to paraglide here but all the sites I have passed have been reasonably inaccessible to me without the aid of a local paragliding business for transport. Given that it is winter this is not going to happen. There is one coastal site on the east coast that I am hoping will not be blown out by the impending strong winds (Corsica has a festival of wind coming up, which is a clue to the weather!). All being well I might get one day of flying in before leaving. I would not come to Corsica to fly for sure.
So, as stunning as the Corsica scenery is and as nice as its people are I think our stay here will be quite short.

After the hairy flight on the new wing I swapped back to my wing and was setting off to the cable car. Next to it was an outdoor cafe with musicians playing German oompah-woompah music. All very quaint and mountain living it would appear.

Then I had a loud bang, people started running in the direction I had come from and they were screaming. I turned and saw a body lying in the car park.

I thought ‘Shit someone has misjudged the landing and overflew into the car park or fallen or…’ I dropped my rucksack and with some other pilots ran over to assist the casualty in what way I could. The physical signs on the pilot were of severe electrical burns from where the pilot had flown into electricity cables overhead prior to falling onto the tarmac of the car park about seven metres below.

Within about fifteen minutes those assisting were joined by a couple of local medical staff, a policeman, then air ambulance, a road ambulance and another local medical person. The causality had seven medical staff treating him.

A paragliding pilot who witnessed the incident from the air (and also admitted that his perspective of height was imperfect due to his height relative to the speed-flying pilot) saw the pilot spiraling down towards the ground at high speed in tight spirals. Whether the pilot had intended to fly so low or he has lost control might be recorded on his helmet-cam, which went off with the police as evidence.

From conversations with local pilots Mürren is a hot spot for accident; it is a very popular site for speed-flying, paragliding acro and base jumpers alike.
After this incident I decided to fly again so that I could retain some sense of normality afterwards and not be deterred from flying by what had transpired. Although the flight turned out to be very pleasant in itself, as I was joining the landing circuit I saw something falling very fast in my side vision and then ‘Bang’ a shute opened: it was a base jumper opening his parachute at what appeared to be about 150 metres above the ground. This added to my already shredded nerves and decided that this was going to be my last flight of the day.

A translation from the local media makes the final point:
‘On landing, he fell into a power line and suffered severe burns. A rescue helicopter took the boy to the hospital where he died shortly afterwards. As a result of the accident occurred in the region on Sunday afternoon hours of a power outage. The Lauterbrunnen Valley is famous for its steep cliffs, popular for jumps with different flight aids.’

Well Switzerland might be the land of fondue, clocks and international bankers but it also has a stack of really great mountains to fly. One of the most-known places being Interlaken.
One of my main reasons to visit Interlaken was not simply to fly but to try a new wing as a potential progression for my current wing.
I have met Martin Steuri of Advance Paragliders whilst at the Coupe Icare festival in St Hilaire. He offered the opportunity to trial one of their wings if I was going that way. Low and behold we did!
He also gave me the details of a retired British Concorde pilot who is normally out paragliding – which he was – so I went off to meet Mike (said retiree) near Stechelberg in a valley about 20 kms south of Interlaken town.

Click for a Google view of the landing zone

With the Advance Epsilon 6 demo wing on my back we set up the hill by cable car and a ten minute walk at the top. We had to wait some time for the clouds to break sufficiently to fly but otherwise it was good.

Mike is a local pilot and knows the flying conditions very well. Only a couple of minutes into the flight and I am in rain! Rain is not good for paragliding wings: it can weigh them down or ingress through the cell openings at the front. Enough rain dramatically reduces the wings performance and means it will not fly very well at all – to say the least! So my immediate action was to land and call it a day. On the ground at the landing zone, as it was on take-off there was no rain. Annoying and tricky.
Two days later after another rain belt had passed the area I went back for another day of flying. My first flight on the new wing was uneventful and I put it through some small tests such as pitch control and dynamic turns.

My next flight was not so good. Compares to my Sky Fides 2 Evo, the Advance Epsilon 6 has much thicker suspension lines and having seen them snag each other, my boots, the grass, the wing I noted that they posed a risk and carried on…The glider was laid out for a forward launch, lines OK and then the odd gust of wind plus a glider in front took-off and that ruffled my wing on the floor a little. But, still OK I thought.
I made my launch run, glanced up (for too short a time), thought I was good and took-off. I wondered why the other pilots were staring at me, then the wing started to turn. I had a fat cravat ball in the left side of the wing. With the ground dropping away and a cable car cable ahead of me and to my left, trees and properties to my right I could not contemplate landing but had to clear that cravat. I try a couple of pulls on the stabilo line but nothing happened. My first sensemaking of this was ‘I cannot negotiate these obstacles safely, my glide is much reduced, I am not going to make it; this is my last flight…’. However, with some ‘Get a grip’ commentary and using lots of weightshift an opposite break I steered a course through the obstacles in the belief that being well clear of the ground was my safest strategy and to clear the cravat whilst hundreds of metres over the valley. Steering such a course I pumped several times with my breaks and tried the stabilo line again and it eventually cleared. I continued the rest of my flight, naturally shaken up, for some soaring and a very relaxed landing, even though the landing is very technical with a cable car and its cables to avoid, a car park, fences, and a plethora of other obstacles to negotiate:

I had intended to fly my own wing back-to-back for comparison purposes and this incident certainly motivated me to get my own wing over my head again. However this next flight did not happen for another couple of hours: see next blog entry.

October 2009

Having spent two months in France I was looking forward to some more French speaking and life in Switzerland. However Switzerland is three peoples: French, German and Italian influenced. Switzerland is organised around a system of cantons and it retains cultural differences within its borders. Think of the UK, it has the English, Welsh, Scots and Irish. The UK is a state of unified differences too. We were only in the country for a week so the analysis is limited. Unfortunately we did not spend any time in the Italian area to make a thorough comparison:

• Driving: we were told by locals and Brits alike that ‘you do not break the law in Switzerland!’. Thus people tend to stick to the rules there. I was also told that the Swiss levy driving offences as a percentage of annual income. Ouch! They do not have an endorsement points system though. Throughout the country drivers did not tend to drift across the middle line of the road as the did in the Alps of France and were a little more patient to hang behind the vehicle on the bendy roads. There were little signs of drivers wanting to speed or drive carelessly.
• Shopping and getting things done: In the French speaking area of Lausanne it was easy: go to the Office du Tourisme and get on with things. It was all good. However when I went to Gstaad in the German area I went to the Coop to make a purchase. Oh what an experience this was. Now, let me give some context: in France, Portugal and some extent in Spain people generally are polite and do say ‘Hello’. However, not everyone does. So, that morning, I was focusing on helping the cashier and when it was my turn rather than say ‘Good morning’ I mentioned something about the shopping. The cashier got really miffed because I had not said ‘Hello’ and let me know by saying ‘GOOD MORNING!’ in a rebuking way. Then she threw my purchases down the conveyor belt. Finally, when I handed her my debit card (as some shops want the shopper to insert them and some want the cashier to do so) she got up and stuffed it in the card reader so hard she almost broke it. Well, I reached my limit and exclaimed ‘What’s your problem’, to which the lady responded in a Germanic twang ‘I have no problem. I have no problem’. Jeez!! SO much stress before 8.30 in the morning! I then discovered that most of my encounters in the German area would be high tension. The German culture was very, very different to the French..
• Smoking: No observations in this respect.
• Families and groups: No observations in this respect.
• Food: French food was like the French whereas the German seemed more staid and less interesting.
• Attitude: See the shopping section above!
• Respect for the environment:No observations in this respect.
• Languages: both the French and the German areas have good English language on the whole.

October 2009

Following a tip to in Annecy to visit St-Gervais-les-Bains near Chamonix-Mont-Blanc we turned up to the opening evening of the second ‘4807 vol light’. For you non-flyers this translates as ‘Light[weight] flying [from] 4807 metres’. This event, organized by the St Gervais local FFVL flying club, comprises a hike each day, of around three hours, to different flying sites and a nice flight down.

The ‘light’ part refers to the equipment used for the hike. My normal paragliding rucksack and contents weighs around 17 kilos including water and snacks, which is too much to endure for three hours whilst negotiating rocky paths and outcrops. So ‘light’ means lightweight wing, lightweight harness, no reserve parachute, no back protection and nothing else unnecessary for a simple flight down. This allows the hiker/pilot to get as low in weight as around 4 kilos if they desire (wing under 2.5 kilos, ‘le string’ harness less than 0.5 kilo and ‘le sac’ to carry it less than 0.25 kilo).

So flying light around here means a g-string harness, the smallest back pack you can find, followed by a 3 hour hike and voila you can fly off any mountain……well that’s the theory any how! If it’s the only way for me to take off from Mount Blanc then I’m game!!

Plus one can try new lightweight kit. Just turn up the night before with a whopping cheque for €2000, your passport and check-out the kit you want to try, get the briefing and off you go the next day to fly it. Trying a new wing on an unfamiliar site with an unfamiliar harness and no back protection or rescue parachute they must be mad! Oh well who isn’t who flies suspended by lots of strings underneath an oversized shopping bag?

October 2009

We have spent two months living in France and interacting with many French people so here are our impressions of the French and French ways.

I have been visiting La France since a child courtesy of my family and school. Then many visits as an adult to Paris, Britanny, Normandy and later Nice, Carcassonne and so on. Now, on this visit I have some observations to share:

• Driving: the French are known for having an appalling driving style and I agree with this largely but not wholly. On the national roads going down from the north of France to Bordeaux and beyond I was impressed with how drivers would maintain a safe distance behind, overtake in safe places, drive past, leave a big gap and signal to pull back in. ‘Great’ I thought ‘these people drive well’. Then, then, on our second entry into France in the south this seems to have changed. Perhaps the abundance of single carriageway roads promotes a more risky driving: habitual crossing over the white lines to suit a more relaxed driving style, overtaking in very risky places just to get by, speeding, tailgating, impatience it is all there in abundance..
• Shopping and getting things done: outlets may open at 8.30 or 9.00 am then are likely to close around 12.00 or 12.30 and re-open at between 2.00pm and 3.30pm and close a little later – perhaps. Mondays are fairly dormant in France. There are great choices for many things except vegetarian food. Like the Iberian peninsular, vegetarian diets are not so well catered for.
• Smoking: France has a smoking ban in force and we only saw this violated once at St Hilaire in an auberge in the mountains, where I joked with the owner, in French, ‘Well, there are no police around here then of course’. A fair proportion of folk smoke but not so many that it is a big issue for us as it was in Spain.
• Families and groups: the French are much, much more sociable than us Brits. One of the best gains for me on this trip is my renewed intimacy with people and I have reacquainted myself with the joy of being with many and varied people – I love it. So, if you are a sociable person then France is a good place to be.
• Food: one of the aspects of visiting France that I have always like is the ingredients used for cooking. Everything just seems to be that much more tasty and fresh than in the UK. But…now this is where I am going to go against the conditioned thinking on both ides of Le Manche: French food, on the whole is not superior to what you would eat in England! Here is my argument: many, many restaurants you visit in France produce well-cooked but relatively simple dishes that are not beyond any home cook who takes a little more interest in what they prepare. Furthermore the dishes available are fairly repeatable throughout the regions. We have eaten in brasseries, bars, restaurants and very expensive restaurants and not been amazed by any fayre to-date. In my opinion the average UK gastro pub will turn out far, far more interesting food and food choices that most typical food outlets in France. In addition the British, through their approach to colonisation and leaving colonies to retain their differences (example citizens of ex-French colonies will speak French as their first language not so for ex-British colonies are not mandated to speak British). I this way the British have perhaps been more open to embracing the foreign influences. The range of food available in the UK is much broader: Indian, Chinese, Thai, Tex-Mex, American, French, Italian and of course some traditional English. Yet (in the same way as the British were hypnotised into the merits of eating potatoes, apples and drinking milk) the French masses have clearly been sold the idea that their food is the best and that English food is very poor – without evening having any direct experience on which to make this comparison. Shame.
• Attitude: I have found two types of French people: the ones that are chatty, warm and embracing (literally) and those who have no interest whatsoever in being pleasant. Whether the latter reserve this for Les Anglais I do not know. When I was first visiting France as a child it felt like the latter were in the majority, now, thankfully, 95% plus of people fall into the first category. I sense none of the old Franco-Anglo animosity, seldom get the Gaelic shrug and feigned ignorance as you bash out your best school-French or other such nonsense. The French like to say ‘Bonjour’ even if you are a stranger, shake your hand in the morning and even, for some of our new friends, will give you the quintessential double cheek kiss. In contrast the majority of British I have met on this trip (and there are very few) are cold, un-engaging and disinterested in creating a temporary relationship of kindred spirits in their motorhomes or otherwise. Vive la France!
• Respect for the environment: there is an awful lot of countryside and forested areas in France. On the whole it is well cared for and I have not notice littering and general abuse in the areas I have visited.
• Languages: on the whole the French love to practice their English language, help us l’estrangers learn French.

October 2009

My natural hair colour is red or depending on your view, auburn or ginger. As I am on a bit of a holiday I decided to try something anew: not summer highlights but a full head of hair colouring and I chose blond.

So, why not vote on this.

Do I look better suited to red hair or blond hair?

Normal hair is red/ginger

Me with blond hair

I left the UK in May 2009 with only 4 hours of flying and 39 flights under my belt 18 month after gaining my Club Pilot rating. Now, in Europe, I fly when I can (weather, flying site and other stuff allowing). This has allowed me to accumulate 22 hours flying time and I have clocked over 100 flights now.

Plus I have undertaken a thermaling course and a piloting/SIV course. My flying is now coming on in leaps and bounds. I have been considering changing my wing for something with a bit more performance (better glider ratio and sharper turning for staying in lift) but it is not time yet. Most pilots tell me to only change once I am the master of my wing and have totally outgrown it plus experienced pilots and instructors are impressed with the stability of my wing – a Sky Fides 2 Eco. For that I have to thank my UK instructor Pete Bernon of Airsports Paragliding in Brighton who recommended the wing to me.

Following my courses I undertook my first pleasure flight for weeks at Lake Annecy and clocked up 1 hour and 10 minutes. Woohooo!! How? I rode the dynamic and thermic air, worked the sources of lift, made the 360 degree turns, made sure I turned whilst still in lift, sped through the sink, endured the bumpy air and the sound and of wing collapsing and re-opening, weightshifted instead of using so much brake, went away from the initial slope to find other lift and explore the countryside, then returning each time I thought I was near to bombing out to work back up the cliff again and back above take-off. What a fantastic flight!!

I am really loving it!

(Note: Big Mac people saying ‘I’m loving it’ when talking about burgers is quite lame in any case in my opinion.)