Homeward bound

My poorly dad’s taken a turn for the worse, unfortunately, so we’ve cut our trip short. On Sunday 8th September we began the 1200-mile 3-day journey home from the Stelvio Alps to North Wales.

Day 1: Tunnels, traffic jams and torrential rain

After the drama of single-track Gavia pass on our outward journey, we decided to avoid mountain passes on the way home because we needed the trip to be as straightforward as possible. We debated going via Innsbruck but driving through Austria would have involved buying a Go Box because Molly weighs over 3.5 tonnes. With these, the box or tag has to be returned on leaving Austria. This felt like hassle we could do without.

Instead, we decided to go down past Milan. It seemed odd going south when we needed to travel north, but the roads were good. Even Passo Tonale was ok. The roads were quiet when we set off at about 8.30, but got steadily busier. Firstly, motorbikes heading to the hills for a Sunday blast, then Italians heading home for the end of the school holidays.

Around Milan we had to stop at several tolls. At a couple the queues were horrendous but, at others, I just tapped the credit card on the ticket machine and we quickly passed through the barriers. Once the rain began at about 10.00 it didn’t stop all day. Google Maps had provided a weather warning for Northern Italy and wasn’t wrong. In places the rain was torrential and the roads were waterlogged. Very difficult driving conditions for John.

We passed many of the lakes we’d planned to visit if our trip had continued… Iseo and Como in Italy then, after we activated our Swiss travel vignette and crossed the border into Switzerland, Lugano and Lucerne. The plan was to get to France before we stopped for the night, but there were several delays en route… unsurprising with the crazy speeds some people were driving in the rain, and all the lane swapping going on. We sat in a traffic jam for an hour to get into the Gotthard Tunnel. At 10.5 miles long, this is the 5th longest road tunnel in the world, and runs under the St Gotthard pass.

I spent the afternoon editing photos and writing the blog of Saturday’s walk to pass the time. Finally, after over 11 hours travelling about 400 miles, we arrived at the aire in Colmar in France. It was a lovely safe place to stay the night but, sadly, we didn’t have time to visit the old town. At least we found a good restaurant nearby where we had a delicious meal… perfect as we were both too tired to cook.

Day 2: A good drive but bad news

On Monday morning, we had a short detour for diesel, bread and milk, then we set off to travel another 400 plus miles to Calais. After yesterday’s hilly drive through mountain ranges, today’s drive was easier for John, on rolling French motorways. The roads in France are much quieter than in the UK, despite a lot of lorries, and we have a Bip and Go tag so tolls are easy. Also, the weather was generally better.

When I wasn’t needed to navigate, I spent time looking for somewhere to stay, and a restaurant to eat. We’ve decided on an aire we’ve used before in Gravelines, just 30 minutes from the Calais Ferry port. Many restaurants in the town appear to be closed on a Monday, but I’ve managed to find somewhere and checked they’re open. We tried to change our return ferry booking on the website last night and this morning but it wouldn’t work. In the end, John called them and we now have a place on a ferry at 9.40 tomorrow, Tuesday.

Around lunchtime, I received very sad news… sad for me and even sadder for mum… dad had passed away peacefully in his bed at home. I’m not sad for dad though. He’d had a really tough time since he had a stroke on January 17th, John’s birthday. In April, he had emergency surgery, which resulted in him being in hospital for over 4 months, and he’d told me several times that he’d had enough.

Dad came home just before we left for our trip. I’m sorry I didn’t know the end of his life was so close before we left, especially as it means I left mum to cope alone for his last couple of weeks. Maybe he felt able to let himself slip away once he’d seen his home and his 3 cats again. Who knows. I told him I loved him before we came away and he squeezed my hand and said he loved me… I’m taking that as our goodbye.

So… we continued trying to get home as soon as possible, while remaining safe. I thought about flying home to be with mum sooner, but I didn’t think I could cope with getting to Paris, or home from Manchester. Plus it’d probably only have saved about half a day as we were now about 24 hours from home.

The journey went well apart from spending about half an hour at a petrol station where the first two diesel pumps didn’t work. There were no out of order signs so we originally thought we might be doing something wrong. When John asked, he was advised they weren’t working and told to try a third pump. The lady in front of us at the queue for this one, couldn’t open her car’s fuel cap and had to get help. Then this pump didn’t recognise John’s card for a few minutes as we both got more frustrated and John let out some expletives! Finally, he managed to fill Molly up. As there was Adblue on tap too, he tried to top that up, but that pump was empty! And I don’t think the full tank will even get us home!

After about 9 hours, we arrived in Gravelines and parked up by the canal. Time to relax before the last leg of the journey. Once again, rather than cooking, we found a restaurant near the aire and had a tasty meal before bed.

Day 3: Home sweet home

I woke at 4.30 and John woke at about 5. We had a cup of tea in bed and then got up because, last night, we’d decided to catch the ferry at 8.05, instead of the 9.40 one we’d booked. This was possible because we had a flexible ticket. We left Gravelines at 6, breezed through check in and French and UK passport controls, then wound our way through the huge Calais Port to the ferry. We were then surprised to be stopped and asked if we wanted to go on the 6.45 ferry. Yes, please! We drove straight onto the boat, grabbed our books, water and breakfast and headed up to the lounge. Two minutes later we were sailing! Amazing!

Back in the UK, the roads were so busy compared with France. The M25 is always atrocious but, today, the other motorways weren’t much better. We stopped for something to eat, then fuel (but refused to pay the extortionate price for Adblue, hoping we had sufficient to get home where a 10 litre container is waiting).

I was pleased to see the sign saying ‘Welcome to Wales‘, and then to pull up on our drive. Now to see mum. The next few weeks won’t be easy, but we’ll come through them ☺️