10 Weeks in a Box - Day 12

The Magic Electricity Box and Virtual Motorhoming - 20/07/2007


The very next morning we were on immediate cassette toilet alert, and set off to find a suitable repository. Now, nearly all Motorhome facilities, particularly those allied to Campsites, are notoriously expensive in this “Tourist-heavy” region. But we were having none of that, oh no! With Miki’s expert navigation, we found a communal facility in the middle of nowhere, well, Ouchamps, to be precise. It started well. A really helpful kid told us where to get bread, and pointed out where the motorhome stop was, with no prompting on our part. Such a pleasure to see the milk of human kindness still flows in some parts of the world.

Breaded-up, as it where, we wound our way out into the fields and came across the site opposite a small lake, a lovely view. We fed our 2 euro coin dutifully into the machine and pressed for water. Nothing. We fed it another. Held our breath. Even more nothing. On the verge of being seriously fed up, I at least managed to empty the cassette, so life could, at least in a very basic sense, go on. It was then that I noticed the service door to the water/electric unit slightly ajar, and er, broken. I peeked in…

Suffice to say, I discovered the water supply you pay for ultimately comes from the same point as the free one for the WC. So I hooked up to the other tap and began filling, feeling at least we hadn’t been ripped off for 4 euros.
I had another peek….
There were our coins, large as life (The only coins, mind you) sat in a tray. I liberated them. It was time to experiment, and oh, what a wondrous time it was! We had struggled to get our fridge running on gas in the morning, and I thought I’d try the mains supply. Nothing. I put a coin back in (secure in the knowledge that it was perpetually retrievable) Voila! Electricity! Free!
As I write, at my amply powered laptop, we have decided to enjoy the afternoon, “charging-up”. Our well-worn 2 euro coin is going through the machine faster than a dose of salts, and I for one hereby name the facility near Ouchamps as Numero Uno!


While we left the mains running, we set out on a small bike ride, confident I could negotiate a rough circuit along the country lanes that would bring us back to the Boomobile. Some time later, and not a little out of breath, we were deep in the woods on an unmade road, and I suffered an ever so slight dip in confidence….but the tree line cleared and thankfully I got my bearings so I could pretend to Miki that I had known where we were going all along!
That afternoon, we were somewhat concerned at the arrival of a chap with a video camera, who proceeded to film the wayward water/electric point.
Was he a spy for the council? Were we in trouble? Did we give a toss?
All these questions were answered as I sent Miki out to talk to him. (She has to be poked with a stick) It turns out he has a motorhome, but prior to his trip it developed a fault and he had to cancel. But he’s out travelling round, checking out all the sites, watering points, etc and carefully documenting them so that his eventual trip will be problem free. A form of ‘virtual’ motorhoming, if you will. But, I concluded after some thought, he will have already seen everywhere. What’s the point in that? Isn’t it the teeniest bit anally retentive? What price that frisson of excitement when you know you have only three fluid ounces of fresh water, and your toilet cassette is overflowing and threatening a toxic spill to rival the Bopahl disaster? Now that’s Motorhoming!
Anyway, operating on the premise that you can have too much of a good thing, and much to the consternation of an old French couple who had just pulled their motorhome up beside us, we left Ouchamps for Chartres.
After reading and enjoying Labyrinth (No, not the Jim Henson thing, wonderful though that is, the book) by Kate Mosse, (no, not that one, the one with a brain) I was keen to explore some of the locations featured in it. One being the Cathedral in Chartres, so I was full of anticipation as we headed in the direction of this ancient town with a view to getting as near as we could in order to see it the following day. Miki and I being what we are, we ended up parking in the centre, 5 minutes walk from the Cathedral, had our dinner and bedded down for the night!
Apart from the obligatory brain dead French yobbos speaking like Terry Jones as a woman in Monty Python, and hurling rubbish bins into the street (heey, that’s RADICAL boys, I can see how you started a revolution) we passed as near a quiet night as one could expect in a City Centre.





Text by Kev Moore
Drawing & Photos by Miki
Both on Planet Goodaboom

10 Weeks in a Box - Day 11

French Spaghetti Junction & A Waste of Bamboo - 19/07/2007


After a good night’s sleep we hit the road again, refreshed, only to be reduced to acute mental fatigue and despair when we arrived in the traffic system madness that is known as Tours. When I am confronted with design horrors such as this, I find myself imagining the board meeting where they first float the idea of a new traffic system. (I did a similar thing when I saw the aesthetic abortion that is the Renault Multiplas)
Picture the scene;

“So, Pierre, I ‘ave designed ze main street to spiral round a round a few times, culminating in a six lane catastrophe with no signs, so ze ‘apless motoriste has to take ze spleet second decision on their direction, and almost inevitably gets it wrong!”
The Director replies; “Bravo, Michel! I shall be recommending you for ze Nobel Transport prize! Your road systems are genial! Why, even I myself could not find my own home for three hours yesterday!”

It took us three times of asking just to get the damn Motorhome going parallel with the Loire….only the finding of further cheap diesel avoided our mental meltdown. Upon refuelling, we pulled in at the first opportunity to have a coffee.
We resolved to follow the Loire as long as possible and perhaps take in a Chateau. (God know there are so many along here, the French architects must have been having a “Buy one, get one free” promotion in the Sixteenth Century!)

Having escaped the murderous clutches of Les Rues de Tours, we came and went through Amboise, where we spied a glorious looking chateau, but the town seemed to be overrun with tourists (even one of those damnable trains) and we declined to stop, finally arriving in our final “Cha” for the time being, Chaumont, complete with its own Chateau. The Loire here spreads its banks into a wide flood plain which expands for about 500 meters from its shores, rising up to a gentle mound providing a fantastic natural parking place for Motorhomes. We pitched up here, along with a host of fellow travellers, amazed to find there were no prohibition signs, nor indeed, requests for payment. As I’m sure you’re coming to realise, we like that sort of thing.

Heading up to the Chateau that overlooks the river here, we were subjected to some Spinning wheel like devices constructed from bamboo, a quick twirl of which induces the contraption to emit an initially interesting, but ultimately insanity-inducing, “tune” of sorts. Pandas are dying of hunger for the sake of this so called art….. A personal view, and possibly not true, but, I think valid, nonetheless….

Cresting the hill, we got our first view of the Chateau, a beautifully constructed edifice, complete with drawbridge. Initially more like a Castle, its riverside walls were demolished to give a more impressive view of the Loire. Now that’s what I call seriously implementing open-plan idealism! Originally the site of a fortress to protect the town of Blois, it was razed to the ground by Louis XI in 1465. In that same year Pierre D’Ambrose began rebuilding the Chateau that stands today, the work being continued by his son and grandson and finally being completed in 1510.

Surviving the Revolution, it had a long and colourful history before finally being handed over to the State in 1938 by the ruined sugar heiress Marie-Charlotte Say. I have pondered this. How can you become a ruined sugar heiress? I mean, if you invented the pogo stick for example, one can understand your empire collapsing as the fad wore off, but sugar? It’s practically a staple, isn’t it? Did France have an epidemic of diabetes? After careful consideration, I have reached the conclusion that Madame Say was just bad with money.

All this is well and good, and I am ever aware of the weight of history that drips from the eaves of these grand old houses, but we had to pay 5.30 euros to have a quick shufti, and three-quarters of the place was closed!
Chateau, Schmateau!

Well, having done the Cha-cha, we spent a quiet night on the banks of the Loire (our bloody fridge doing its best to interrupt our slumber, deciding to shut down on a whim.) The Fridge, now nicknamed The Lunatic Fridge, would now begin to engage us in a battle of wills that was to last the entire journey…….




Text by Kev Moore
Drawing & Photos by Miki
Both on Planet Goodaboom