Onwards and Northwards

After our wonderful breakfast, all that remained was to find our way back to the autobahn and our way through Austria to Germany.

It had always been a wish of mine to visit Innsbruck - for some reason I had an image of the place out of "The Sound of Music", etc. The last time we had driven through Austria was when we made the trip overland from Saudi Arabia and as we had headed towards Innsbruck then, we had suddenly decided,when given an option at a major road division, to go to Saltzburg, the "Home" of Mozart. A "no-brainer" for our little brains. But this time Innsbruck was in a direct line, so we decided to stop and have a look. Well, Sunday afternoon is not a good time to visit Innsbruck - dead as a do-do, as they say. Everyplace was closed, no restaurants, cafes etc to get a cup of tea or coffee. Given that the weather was a bit gloomy, the place didn't exactly have the appeal we had hoped for, so back in the car and head for a good motor-way services. That is something you can reasonably rely upon in Europe, reasonable stop-overs for meals and snacks - except in Belgium - more on that later! We zoomed through Germany, official speed limit 130 kilometers per hour, around 85 mph, but of course, that is just the recommended speed limit as most people are trying to become F1 drivers. The biggest in the range of Mercedes, Audis, Porsches and every other model of super-car flash past you as you think you're doing OK at 140 kph. A flash of their headlights and they're past, disappearing into the future.

We decided that South Belgium and the Ardennes, scene of the "Battle of the Bulge" in WW2, would be a good place to lay our weary heads and the little town of Dinant was chosen as a suitable resting place. About what should have been one hour short of Dinant, the road authorities had decided that 2 motor-ways should merge and become one driving lane, from a previous 6. Congestion is not the word to describe what they had managed to create, total and absolute chaos more like it. The Chinese government couldn't have done a better job when they were trying their worst. So much for German and European efficiency. Out came the map book and a search for an alternative route, through the forests of the Ardennes. A minor road soon popped up as an possible exit from the chaos and we took it, heading for what looked like a reasonable cross-country route to Dinant and a bed for the night. Not to be, the raod wound around and through places not mentioned in our too large scale atlas - raod diversions and unsigned intersections soon found us a bit lost and after 2 hours of messing around, we found ourselves reluctantly rejoining the road chaos we were trying to avoid. Not to be put off with our failure, we took the same minor road exit and this time forewarned that we shouldn't take that wee road that went past that wee strange-looking church, down that glade of gloomy trees, past the war cemetery etc etc - we eventually found ourselves entering Dinant fro the south which was as it should have been all along. Barbara had insisted that, considering Dinant was a very popular tourist town, there should be an abundance of hotels, B&B's etc. Dinant is a strange place built in a sort of deep chasm in the Mosel river and has an equally strange one-way traffic system. So it was round and round the town looking for this abundance of accommodation we had expected to find. Ah!, that looks like a hotel, park up quickly and investigate. "The Churchill", sounds good, a remnant of the last war, perhaps? The entrance to this hotel is proving elusive as we circle the building. Lots of people visible on an upper floor, so it does look promising. We find some temporary looking building works and assume the hotel is having some renovation work done. Struggle over building debris to find a back entrance and only then do I realise that the place is an old peoples home! The line of airport- terminal looking seating should have given me a clue, but after driving for around 10 hours, my brain wasn't up to it and Barbara was wearing her reading glasses so couldn't see farther than her nose or so!

Help! It was getting bark and we were getting a bit desperate. Back in the car and deciding to head north again for the larger town of Namur. The only ting was that we now had to around the town once again as we were pointing south and Namur is distinctly north of Dinant. So we head south looking for the place where we should back-track and as we drive I see, out of the corner of my eye as we just about pass it, an IBIS Hotel. Quick screech of brakes, pull into the smallest and only parking place available and rush into reception to get their last available room, luckily with a view of the river and free internet access! There is a very nice but formal-looking restaurant next to our salvation, but we chose to explore the town for something a bit more bohemian/artsy and cheaper, but only find a very nice up-market 'Cuisine Francaise" gourmandoise-type place and decide to just go along with our fate and pay the price. Anyone who has eaten in Belgium will know the Belgian propensity for "French Fries", or chips as we call them in Britain. So, regardless of how wonderful your main course appears on the menu, in my case, "petit rôtir du poulet avec fine herbs" - a small chicken (male) oven cooked and sprinkled with lovely herbs, it will always be accompanied by a huge portion of the ubiquitous "CHIPS". So much the the gourmand experience, but it was delicious and did the job especially when followed by some extravagant chocolate-mousse cake! Yummy.

A good night's sleep and we are now heading for the coast and England's white cliffs......