Rosemary and Andy travel in a Rapido 746F, which they have had since the untimely death of their previous motorhome, Tilly, in Bulgaria in 2005. The dramatic and laconic account of the drowning of Tilly after 11 years of faithful service, and the subsequent bureaucratic battles with the Bulgarian Customs and UK Insurance Companies, is well told at: http://www.pippins.me.uk/2005/2005_bulgaria.htm.

Since 2001 the Newtons have motorhomed in France, Turkey, Bosnia, Croatia, Greece and now Switzerland, as well as travels within the UK, covered in their own website(http://www.pippins.me.uk/index.htm ). 'Pippins', by the way, refers both to the apples they would like to grow and the name of their house in England.

Since 2007 they have aimed to travel for 2 months in May and June, and again in September and October. We are all fortunate to be able to look over their shoulders, in words and pictures, and thereby experience Europe afresh.

Pictures are regularly uploaded to – www.photoblog.com/bacchanalia  This promises to be a better site than previously used, as it shows pictures at a reasonable size without enlarging.

See their excellent Greek Travel Log on this website at: Pippins in the Peloponnese 2010 and Switzerland in 2011.

Here is Rosemary's Travel Log for Spain, moving on to Portugal.

Friday 2 September.  After a rather frantic preparation, with a family camp at the weekend followed by a busy week, we set off for Dover and caught the 2.40 ferry. We were rather disgruntled to be put at the very back behind all the lorries. However, they were unloaded quickly and we persuaded the German family in front just to follow after they said they were waiting for instructions.

It was very strange indeed turning right, as we are so used to going left then following the same route on German autobahns. We drove through lovely rolling countryside in late afternoon sunshine to an Aire at Le Crotoy on the Baie de Somme. A lovely setting but the town was largely modern seaside properties, not as charming as Valery sur Somme on the other side of the water. The tide was out and the bay full of wading birds. It was wonderful to be able to leave our door open and enjoy the balmy evening, which I don't think we did in the UK this year.

Saturday 3 September.  Drove on in very warm sunshine through the Normandy countryside around Rouen, then down a very small road thanks to Sally Satnav, where we found a lovely village, La Madeleine Bouvet, in a wonderful setting beside a lake. We stopped for a cup of tea while I painted the church and its reflection and Andy read in the sunshine. We would have stayed there but were worried by a notice we did not understand, which we now think referred to travellers (Us?). We drove on a short way but the sky began to look so threatening that we stopped in a pleasant square in Nogent le Rotrou. We then had a large thunderstorm and rain for the rest of the evening. Is this it for the summer? Most unfair, we thought, as it was still warm.

Sunday 4 September.  We drove out of the surprisingly large town and headed for Fontevraud. Another enormously heavy shower whilst we were having lunch stopped in time for us to go out.

I visited the Abbey on one of our first visits to France, probably more than 20 years ago, when it had just stopped being a high security prison and they had started to restore it. I remember little more than the huge white church but what an impression it had made - no decoration or furniture, just 4 faintly coloured tombs set in the floor of the marble nave, towards the altar, including Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry II and Richard the Lion Heart. Eleanor had always loved the Abbey and spent her final years here; it had become something of a retreat for wellborn ladies.

Andy did not see this on the first visit and I was so worried that it might have been spoilt. However, the magic was still there in the church, despite other people this time. The light streaming in through the clear windows made the white stone almost shine. Much of the rest of the Abbey was now on display, large and impressive architecture, and much detail had survived the use as a prison for 140 years. The elaborate kitchen was very similar to the one at Glastonbury.

At last on the N10, route to the sun? We drove on to an Aire at a village called Chateau Larcher, south of Poitiers. Three vans: Dutch in a German van, French in a Slovenian one and us in a French one!

Monday 5 September.  A long drive down a straight road, often due South, but often rather boring. Then into an absolutely horrid crawl through Bayonne and Biarritz and many surrounding towns. There is a toll motorway but it is so expensive for us, as we are classed with lorries, that there is no option but to crawl - and this on a Monday in September! We won't go this way again.

However, after a fruitless trip down a farm track, we found a lovely Aire in a park of mixed woodland, south of San Sebastian. Looking out through the oaks it is hard to believe we are in Spain. Aires de camping cars are new to Spain and we are looking forward to using them.

Tuesday 6 September.  The journey westward proved easier than expected, as the motorway proved to be a free one. Once again toll motorways are very expensive for us.

We arrived at the Cueva de Castillo after lunch and made our way to the entrance to wait for them to open. The caves are noted for their cave paintings.

Whilst waiting a group of Americans arrived. Their tour guide proceeded to warn them that they might not be very happy with their tour, as the guides in Europe would always identify parts of the animal and ask the group for their ideas, whereas he always started with identifying the animal then showed the parts. How I wished I had explained that we like to work things out for ourselves, which is how we learn, rather than being spoon fed with information that is easy to forget. We saw one of the ladies later, complaining about the food (the hamburger she had had was not up to her usual standard) and she didn't like the local cider either. I could feel Bill Bryson laughing behind my shoulder!  

We thought the cave most impressive, with wonderful stalactite formations as well as paintings of animals and many negative handprints.

We drove on to Santillana del Mar, a very well preserved medieval town. We parked easily in the town square outside the walls and had a most enjoyable wander, trying tapas and the local cider, which was surprisingly pleasant and much better than other local ciders. The town was very touristy but very pleasant. We returned in the twilight and enjoyed the town as the light faded. I attempted a picture whilst Andy caught up with the mail.

Wednesday 7 September.  We are very surprised to wake each morning, usually around 7 o'clock, to find it is still totally dark. We returned to the main town square before 9 o'clock and before anyone was about. I tried a painting, much to the annoyance of a couple of delivery men, as wherever I sat I seemed to be in the wrong place. The town gradually woke up, much later than we expected, and a surprising number of people stopped to look. In Italy you are totally ignored, as everyone seems to be painting - it cannot be as common here! It was great to be able to afford coffees when we wanted them, unlike in Switzerland!

We then drove on, along a largely deserted free motorway through the most beautiful countryside, past the Picos. Eventually reaching Cudillero, we parked on the harbour. The town is Cornish fishing village/Hastings Old Town, with lots of painted houses up a steep valley and a large harbour with many gaily coloured fishing boats. The weather was rather warm. We climbed to the lookout above the town and later walked around the modern extensive harbour arm. There was a heavy bank of cloud out to sea and later it rolled inland, thankfully without the expected rain. We also spent some time trying to unravel Spanish menus. We were joined by 10 other vans, mostly Spanish. This is new, as previously we have seen very few Spanish vans, even in Spain.

Thursday 8 September.  We woke again to brilliant warm sunshine and, after Andy had explored a tunnel containing a stream and a footpath, we set off, firstly to a noted beach called Playa Silencio. Sadly the sun had not reached it and, as the tide was coming in, we did not wait for it, continuing to Cabo Busto for lunch. The coast thereafter for a while was rather boring. We had a brief foray inland up the Navia river valley but decided it was a long way to Lugo, so carried on along the coast, aiming for the promised Aire at Porto des Bares. However, we were disappointed as it had closed and camper vans were banned from ports in Galicia, so this meant we could not visit the lovely little fishing port of Barqueiro either. It was getting late when we found a very pleasant spot beside a beach next to Ortigeira.

Friday 9 September.  We had a wander on a board walk beside the mud flats of the very extensive estuary, Rio de St Martha de Ortigeira, then wandered on round the far side of the estuary with views all the way. We did some shopping in Carino. Supermarkets are often quite hard to find, as they are not always well marked. When we presented a card to pay, the assistant asked for a passport but seemed very happy to accept Andy's bus pass, which she probably took for an identity card. You never know when a bus pass might come in handy!

We drove out to a spectacular lighthouse on the Punta de los Aquillos, then back through most spectacular coastal scenery on the far side of the headland, past signs of industrial archaeology – perhaps coal mining - in an unlikely setting. We had lunch amongst marine pines then continued along the coast. We did not get out to the next headland at the Punta Candiera as the sea mist had rolled in, bringing visibility down to a few yards.

We then drove on past Ferrol to Coruna. Andy felt worried by the first aire, beside Coruna at the port of San Pedro de Vismo and a considerable distance from the city, but we replenished our supplies of water and drove to the other spot we read about, which turned out to be a very busy car park beside the Torres de Hercules, a massive landmark of a light house.

There were plenty of other Spanish vans squeezed into this car park, so eventually we found a space and walked into town.

Coruna was as interesting as we remembered, surrounded by a generous promenade. We found the old town and went inside the Romanesque/Gothic Iglesia de Santa Maria, largely lit by a single rose window above the altar, which was richly decorated with white flowers. When we came out people were gathering for a wedding; later we saw the bride arrive with her father. She had a plain satin dress with a beautiful full-length richly decorated lace veil. This year it has been very interesting to note outfits at weddings! The most elegant guest was easily a lady in a drapey dove-grey Grecian dress.

We returned to the very busy car park and, after supper and a spectacular sunset, we walked up to the lighthouse and admired the views over the city and harbour.

The Spanish Armada called at Coruna on its way north. The main square is named after Maria Pita, who led the defence of the town against the attack of Sir Francis Drake in 1589. There is a triumphal statue of her, with her foot on an attacker. We revisited the grave of Sir John Moore, who evacuated the British when Napoleon overran the town in 1809, and was buried here in what is now a lovely garden on the battlements. 

Saturday 10 September.  Eventually the rain stopped and about 10.30 am we walked into the centre of Coruna,  round the promenade on the west side of the city, and watched a very large liner gradually slide beside the innermost quay. We wandered round the shops, all small individual shops, had a coffee and by lunch time (2 o'clock) we were very hungry indeed and discovered we had left dictionary and notes behind. Hunger does not lead to rational guesswork but eventually we found a restaurant where the charming waitress could translate!

After lunch we continued to wander, as the sun broke through, among pleasant squares and interesting buildings above the shop fronts. A feature of the area are the galerias - the buildings fronted with elaborate 19th century glass panels, most impressive.

Eventually we headed for the western side of the isthmus, where there is a handsome beach, and round the headland back to the van. In the evening I made my way once more around the very impressive lighthouse, claimed to be the oldest working one in the world, though this might allude to the Roman foundations.

There were 23 vans in the car park for the night, mostly Spanish. We really have seen an increase in people touring. When we were here in August 10 years ago, there were very few people indeed.

Sunday 11 September.  Another wet morning! Over breakfast a small van arrived and a young man proceeded to feed the herring gulls and pigeons with large industrial sized loaves and cake, a whole boot full. (What would they say in Hastings, where they are regarded as a major pest!) We felt as if we were on a set for The Birds. By the time we left, even the birds were fed up and had left, but he was standing ankle deep and still hard at work, tearing up the bread despite the heavy rain.

We made our way West, to the Coste de Morte and Cabo de San Adrian, then on to Laxe where we sat on the quay looking at the boats in the rain. Every time I ventured outside it started to rain once more! At least we had an interesting view. Eventually I managed a walk along the quay and round the little town, whose streets convinced me we would not be able to get out to the lighthouse, so we set out for the Praia de Traba, a 2.5 km unspoilt beach with enormous rollers, near where we remembered camping 10 years ago. It has been much improved but we managed to find a lovely spot.

We are now 9.5 degrees west and it is very dark indeed in the mornings! Also we are able to get BBC Radio 4 here, which seems bizarre.

Monday 12 September.  A much better day, so we decided to retrace our steps on a walk that we did 10 years ago: the Spindrift Walk (see Lonely Planet). The walk wends its way around the coast, sometimes following gravel tracks, other times grassy or stony paths, where the rocks have been worn into grooves by wagons long since past. The path is surrounded by stone lined fields, mostly now disused, along an ancient track, always with wonderful views of the extremely rugged coastline. The weather was perfect for walking - brightly overcast with occasional bursts of sunshine, warm but with a light fresh breeze.

Eventually the path reached Laxe, where we had visited yesterday, but this time we could see it in sunshine. All the fishing boats were out but a very grand yacht with a Swiss flag still said 'sequestrade' on the side. After lunch on the sea front we made our way back along the path, past the Praia Soesto, where we wild-camped before. Later we sat by the sea drawing and reading and later chatting to an English couple, who were from Weymouth and were surprised to see another English van.

As we ate our lunch at Camille, a man staggered past with a huge cabbage, at least a metre/yard across - all we could see were his legs from the knees down!

We ended the day with another walk along the boardwalk through the lagoon behind the sand dunes. Interesting that the explanatory boards are in Spanish (Castilian) and Galician. I had thought that Galician was related to Celtic and that it had similarities with Breton, Cornish and Welsh, but was far as we could see the differences were word endings and the rest the same as Spanish.

Behind us stopped a small van, the lady in full sari and nose ring and the gentleman in hippie/Indian garb. I was most surprised when I walked past and we had a chat to find out they were from Belgium, on their first tentative campervan trip!

Tuesday 13 September.  Another very wet morning. I felt sorry for the 3 boys behind us, who were surfers and sleeping in their car.

We drove round the coast to Camille, which even allowing for the rain and sea mist was a very depressed place. The supermarket had hardly any stock. The town's main claim to fame had been the German, known as Man, who had lived beside the sea and created a wonderful beachscape of piles of stones and other things he had found on the shore. We had visited his 'garden' 10 years ago and we were upset to find he had died shortly afterwards, supposedly of grief when the spill from the 'Prestige' covered his creations with black oil. The garden still remains, though now rather sad and missing the less robust found items, but paradoxically there seem to be more visitors than ever. We were surprised to read he had lived there for more than 40 years, in a shed and as we saw him, always dressed only in a loincloth; he was unrecognisable from the picture of a shy young man on an information board.

We had lunch at Camille, then drove on to Camarinas, a much smarter affair. Firstly we drove to Cabo Vilan, past wind and fish farm, to the lighthouse. If our last holiday's theme was glaciers, this one appears to be lighthouses. We then settled on the beginning of the pier at Camarinas and explored the town. The harbour area was very large and there were sizeable fishing boats moored there. The wind must blow most of the time, as the trees were 4 point tethered! I went to the Internet café in cardigan and waterproof. However, the weather looked much more promising for the rest of the week, according to the BBC.

Wednesday 14 September.  Today has been hot. I don't know why I have been complaining about the wind - at times today I would have given anything for a breeze! Our efforts to shop in Ponte do Ponte came to nothing, as the 2 shops we visited had so little stock: a very poor little town. We drove to Muxia, which was recovering from a large festival the day before - they celebrate the stone boat they have, which was supposed to have brought St James to Galicia . I have never seen so much broken glass but an army of people were trying to clear up. As we drove through Cee there was a row of 3 large supermarkets, one after another, with a Carrefour promised round the corner!

We drove on to Cabo Finisterre, almost the most westerly point in Spain and very much visited. I climbed up the hill behind for a 360' view, then we went to the lighthouse and 'land's end'. The point is also the end of the extension to the pilgrim route on from Santiago de Compostela. So many people do the Camina these days that, to make a statement, you almost have to do the extension and lots of people were there. We were mystified by a notice on a mast that instructed you not to hang clothes on it - in 4 languages. It was explained by a guide, who said that it had become a tradition to burn clothes or other items at the end of the promontory but, after a fire in the undergrowth, this was banned so people started to hang clothes all over the masts, climbing them to do so. Now the burning has been re-instated and we saw a young woman staring so intently at a fire. A great mix of paganism and Christianity!

We had intended to spend the night there but it was my turn to have bad vibes about it, so we made our way to a beach car park beside Fisterra and had a lovely walk along the sand. It did not start to get any cooler till past 8 o'clock!

Thursday 15 September.  The path that separated us from the shore was the one the pilgrims used. Several had already passed by before we had our breakfast and it was hardly light by then! We passed many others – maybe 70 or so - before turning off to drive along the rocky coast to a site near Muros. The site was rather scruffy but had good facilities, including a washing machine, and a very pleasant sandy shore, set amongst rocks, where we read and painted until the sea mist came in late afternoon and it became grey and chilly once more!

The site restaurant had kindly translated the menu into English but we were rather mystified by 'Gluttonies to the chopped garlic' and 'Razors it irons', nor tempted by 'fried haunches of frog', but Andy did fancy 'Tart of apple with sweet of milk'.

Tomorrow we are off southwards round the famous Rias. I have a feeling that it will be a fleeting visit, as we are used to the wilder north and a more settled climate in Portugal calls!

Friday 16 September.  We noticed that the vans on the site were almost all of 2 types: those very large grand jobs, who have difficulty parking because of their size and are seriously expensive, or the rest that are small Volkswagens, many rising roofs or self-converted, with the occupants camping within them.

After we left the site we noticed a well dressed lady walking beside the road, carrying a large basket of grapes on her head.

We enjoyed the Ria de Muros y Nois, where there were many lovely views and bays with secluded beaches. We stopped at Porto do Son for a pleasant stroll. However when we got to Ria de Arousa, it was unpleasant, untidy development all the way, with hardly a glimpse of the sea. We gave the coast one last chance with lunch on the Isla de Arousa, which was more pleasant, then made a dash for the south, past Pontevedra, ending up in Tui on the River Mino – the border with Portugal. The SatNav propelled us into the tiny streets and announced we had reached our destination in the very middle.

We found the correct spot and after a meal we wandered into town. The main street and promenade was packed with people of all ages, drinking beer and coffee and generally taking the air - a really great atmosphere. The children were playing semi-organised games, and there were many things that looked like skateboards, but with each foot operated separately, and wiggled to propel them at speed through the crowds.
 
Saturday 17 September.  We had a morning wander round Tui but virtually no-one was about at 10.00 am and we could not have the coffee we had promised ourselves. The church was amazing with an enormous Baroque organ each side of the choir, the trumpets almost meeting overhead. There were large buttresses across the nave, put into place after the Lisbon earthquake.

We then crossed the Minho into Portugal and visited the vast 17th century fort above the town of Valence do Minho. The real surprise was that it contained a very elegant old town, full of shops, mostly selling linens and baby clothes! Far removed from the usual poor quality at a border, these were pleasant shops and already busy. The fort around it was very well preserved with many V-shaped defences, making the whole complex vast.

We had intended to then go to Ponte de Lima, but read that this was the weekend of a big festival. It would have been most interesting but the chance of finding anywhere to park a large van (or anything) was too daunting! (Think Glastonbury just before the carnival!)

We drove up the Minho with few views of the river and then headed into the mountains and the Peneda National Park, where we camped at Lamas de Mouro. At first we thought the site closed because the gate was firmly shut but eventually it was opened and the lady explained she was keeping out the animals. When we later saw the size of the horns of some of the cows grazing nearby, we understood. We went for a walk in the surrounding countryside - small plantations of pines and many abandoned stone-lined fields, with a backdrop of harsh rock-strewn hillsides.

Back at the site, a very large coach arrived and out poured about 60 people with many very large plastic bags. They proceeded in a very orderly way to construct a tent city. There were all ages, from tiny babies and boys with baseball caps, right up to lots of elderly ladies in black, including several very frail ones on sticks. They all pitched in an orderly way, despite looking most unlikely campers, and within the hour were sitting round large tables eating the contents of the heavy cool boxes.

We are yet to find out why they are all here. The only time we have seen anything like it was our first visit to Croatia, when coaches arrived at a site and disgorged the people from the factories, who staggered down to their ready tents laden with bags and cool boxes for their week by the sea.

As it got dark each group were playing cards and board games.

Continued at: Pippins in Portugal 2011