What is a good itinerary for a van trip in France?

This week’s article is all about the first leg of our extended van trip; where we went, what we saw, where we stayed and my overall reflections. Um, sometimes my reflections are muddy and I’m often left with more questions than answers, but, well, whatever. It keeps things interesting.

What is a good itinerary for a van trip in France?

Much depends on what you enjoy doing. We like spending most of our time in natural surroundings and sometimes visiting cute, medieval towns and historical spots as we travel. We are not the biggest fans of visiting large cities primarily because of the traffic and parking hassles. Still, I do enjoy window shopping, (which is called “window licking” in France…ew.)

This trip consists of the following and future posts will cover different legs along the way. Click on each leg to jump to that specific article. As the weeks progress, I will add more links, but I’m a bit behind because, well, I’m travelling and enjoying being in the moment.

Leg 1 Cherbourg-Caen-Falaise-Chartres

Leg 2 Chenonceau-Chateau Chambord

Leg 3 Sancerre-Volvic- Puy de Dome

Ardeche( Allègre – Le Puy-en-Velay-Gap) / Nyons-Gite du Lievre / Beaumes de Venise-Gigondas-Vacqueras-Les Dentelles de Montmiraille / The French Riviera / Camargues / Sète and the south. Spain. Morocco.

Leg 1 (Cherbourg -Caen – Chartres)

We left Cherbourg, on the tip of the Cotentin Peninsula, and travelled to a town just outside of Caen to visit friends for a few nights. It was a soft start and it was freezing. By the time we retired for the evening, the temperature was already dropping and we had to heat up the van before bed. We piled on additional blankets and I even put on a knitted hat. It was the coldest temperatures we’ve experienced in the two months we’ve been on the road and that was right at the beginning of our trip on September 20th, 2022.

After a brief visit with friends, our real trip started. We were off to pay hommage to Guillaume.

What to do in Falaise?

When we left our friends, our next destination was Falaise, in La Swiss Normande. Apparently, it’s called La Suisse Normande because it has what constitutes mountains in Normandie. We’d already done a quick trip of ten days in La Suisse Normande and it’s worth a trip if you like river rafting, climbing, hiking and hang gliding.

Falaise is a fortified medieval town home of the Château of Guillaume-le-Conquerant, or the castle of William the Conquerer, in English. From the ten and eleventh centuries onwards, the first dukes of Normandy built their château here. And as all good conquerors must, there was a moat and fortifications to defend “their” territory. Gotta defend our land, you know.

We ended up parking below, having lunch and then wandering around the ramparts without actually going for a tour of the inside of the castle. We already had our sights on visiting at least one of the grand castles in the Loire valley in a couple of days so were saving ourselves for that.

Fortunately, the parking was free and we left in the afternoon to find a place to squat for the night. In fact, it was a parking lot with no signs saying we couldn’t park there so that’s what we did. Nothing glamorous.

Chartres Cathedral

The next day we went to Chartres Cathedral. Finding parking in the centre of historical towns is hard at the best of times and often forbidden for motorhomes. We found a spot in a residential zone just outside the centre, had a quick lunch in the van and then set off on foot for the town. 

One of my favourite authors is a British gentleman by the name of Graham Hancock. He calls himself a journalist and does not pretend that he is anything other than curious and tenacious. Ok, my words, but he is a controversial figure in the world of archeology given how he explores the planet’s mysterious places. 

In his book called the Sign and Seal, he attempts to trace the path of the Ark of the Covenant, and he visits Chartres Cathedral, following a thread of clues that may or may not lead to the next clue and then the next. I was sorry not to have brought his book with me as I don’t remember all of the intricacies of his research. Suffice it to say that I know he’d spent considerable time pouring over documents and visiting the site, making observations of some of the more iconic and mysterious carvings that grace both the interior and exterior of the building.

If you’re at all interested in world mysteries, ley lines, pyramids, consciousness and ancient civilizations, I’d really suggest you look up his work. I’ve read all of his books and he even has a brand new 8-part series on Netflix. It’s well shot and very thoughtfully done. Bravo, Mr. Hancock! And no, for the moment, I’m not signed up to any affiliate links so if you click on any links here, I don’t receive any compensation if you buy anything. I just think he rocks.

Walking up a cobbled street lined with cafes and souvenir shops, the houses hovered, observant above me as if daring me to put a foot out of line. I’d just eaten, thankfully, because the aromas of butter and garlic were wafting straight into my DNA, begging me to sit down for yet another meal. Alas, we were on a mission; to see one of the most iconic cathedrals in France.

We rounded the corner and were blasted by a wave of tourists, loitering and scurrying outside the entrance of the cathedral. Snippets of “ Oh my Gawd, it’s huge!” and Japanese and Chinese tourists obediently following their flag lady as she corralled them in front of the entry.

I hate being labelled as a tourist consumer; someone who makes a list of places they have to visit and then quickly  checks off each place while spending 90% of the time behind their telephones, filming and taking pictures. I admit, though, I do take a lot of photos, but always try to be discreet, no flash and turn the phone on silent mode. Still, sometimes I just put the bloody phone into my pocket and observe. What are the colours I see? What are the shapes? What do I smell? How do I feel inside? 

Looking up, I almost fell over backwards because the spires are so high. Flanking the ornately carved entry are two completely different spires. Built over differing periods of time, Chartres Cathedral is a bit of an enigma. I like seeing things from different perspectives. In the way that Picasso drew bottles and glasses, from one angle to the next, looking from the top, down, to the bottom looking sideways, I am naturally drawn to seeing from different angles.

Maybe it’s from my years of practicing drawing and reading Betty Edward’s fantastic book, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. I learn to not only see with my eyes, but also smell with my ears, taste with my fingers, hear with my eyes and generally experience the world around me with an unconventional use of my senses.

I looked down from the dizzying spires and as I walked up the steps, I felt the millions of souls who’d passed over the same stone steps on their way to worship. How many more would pass after I’d gone?

As our eyes adjusted to the lower light levels, I was immediately drawn to the incredible stained glassed windows and soaring height of the cathedral.

As a non-religious person, I am torn between awe, reverence and deep grief. The sacrifices people had to make in order to built this monument to religion is astounding to me. Did any of them have a choice? How many people’s homes, farms, lives and families were simply taken and used to build a monument to God? 

Did those who built this place have any say on the matter or were they essentially conscripted as slave labourers to build until they died? I find it ironic how many of us visit these places of worship as some of the last remaining vestiges of a society or time period, conveniently forgetting that they were built on the backs of people like you and me; simple citizens just trying to eat, clothe and house ourselves.

When I finally tore my eyes away from the heavens above, I noticed several dozen people wandering around, taking videos and photos. Thankfully, the people were relatively quiet. I’ve had experiences, like at Rennes-le-Château, when a young couple decided to start chanting in the church and a bunch of German tourists burst into the church, shouting, arguing, talking loudly and their parents yelling at the kids even louder, ironically, to be quiet. 

I’d felt embarrassed to be a tourist given there were several old ladies trying to actually pray while all this ruckus was going on around them. When all’s said and done, I respect those who worship whomever they chose or whose cultures dictate who they’re supposed to worship.

As this uncomfortable and embarrassing memory infused my gut, I came back to the magnificance of Chartres and gazed in wonder at the carved pillars.

I noticed a group of people in the middle of the church, walking around in circles, with four or five people kind of clumped in the middle, just standing there. What? Were they stuck or something?

One woman was squatting down, hands placed flat on the ground, head bowed as she rocked back and forth. Another woman was standing straight up, head tilted upwards, eyes closed, arms down at her sides with her palms facing up. I then looked at the other people walking in circles and realized that many of them weren’t wearing shoes.What the heck?

The Chartres Labyrinth

The Chartres Cathedral is home to an amazing stone labyrinth constructed out of  stone slabs. Normally it’s covered up by chairs for services, but on Fridays, the chairs are moved out of the way and people can walk the labyrinth for free. 

By the time I looked back to where my husband had been, he was already ten or twenty meters ahead of me so I hurried to catch up with him. We arrived at a huge, wooden door and there were people waiting to place their hands on the stone walls next to it.

What it was or why they were doing it is a mystery. It kind of reminds me of a thing I saw on YouTube where someone did an experiment where several people in a waiting room stand up, then sit down again. They repeat this exercise a few times until a “real” person comes in and starts waiting. She observes the others going through this routine and then eventually follows along and does it too.

This is the kind of thing that runs through my head when I see five people lined up to put their hands on a wall in a church. I almost laughed and thought, maybe I should chose some random pillar and place my forehead on it, or kneel down and bow and then watch as other people do it too.

Maybe I don’t know anything at all, but I do admit that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about and place my own hands on the place. My husband raised his eyebrows in question at the people, shrugged and kept walking. I followed him, so I will never know if I missed my chance at enlightenment or something equally profound.

How to walk the Chartres labyrinth

As I wandered around the cathedral, my eyes kept looking back towards the labyrinth, seeing that the same three women hadn’t moved an inch. After wandering around the church for about 20 minutes, we eventually came back to the labyrinth and it was now packed with walkers. On a whim, I decided to walk it. I kept my shoes on, gave my purse to my husband who sat himself down on a chair and off I went.

Everyone starts at the same entry point and follows the path, walking slowly, turning and turning, looping backwards and all the way around only to turn once again. I was following a woman who was wearing a long white tunic, a head scarf, sparkly earrings, flowy pants and white socks. As I looked around, I noticed at least three other women dressed almost identically. They didn’t seem to know one another and I thought perhaps it was a glitch in the matrix. Or did I miss the memo about a uniform or something?

Keep walking, turning, and then eventually you reach nirvana, or in this case, the middle. That’s it.

What are the rules of walking the labyrinth?

The rule is, you have to be patient with the person in front of you, who may be in the grips of a spiritual epiphany as they walk and pray. I entered the labyrinth with no expectations of spiritual enlightenment, I walked, and waited, inhaling heavy whiffs of patchouli perfume as people brushed past me. 

I didn’t feel anything at all close to something spiritual. Then again, I am not religious and I glanced over at my husband, patiently waiting for me and thinking, man, I wish that woman ahead of me would hurry up her conversation with God and be done with it. I wasn’t about to cheat the jump over the “line” and scoot in ahead of her, though.

As I was contemplating how I might achieve that anyway and where I might go pee as soon as I was done, I rounded yet another loop. And there, right there, about half way through the labyrinth, I was slammed. I was hit with a profound sense of, I don’t know, something.

Ha! As I write this, sitting in a small fishing town in Spain, the church bells just started clanging. I kid you not.

Tears sprang into my eyes for absolutely no reason I could fathom. I was thinking about peeing and all of a sudden, I was allowed a connection of some kind. I rarely am seduced by the grandeur of a church but this time? I felt… I don’t know, a presence of some kind. As my eyes blurred with tears, I walked through it and onwards, almost bumping into the woman ahead of me.

What did it mean? Maybe it was simply, “I’m here and you were distracted enough from your ego thoughts that it allowed me a space to come in and say hi.”

“ Hi, God. It’s me. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you for my life. I love you.”

All I know is that something occured that I didn’t expect. A moment of connection. With whom? With what? I don’t know, but it marked me, somehow. I know exactly where it happened in the labyrinth and I know it came like a lightning bolt. I wiped my eyes clear, smearing my mascara and once again silently offered a sincere “ Thank you.”

The rest of the path passed without me even realizing it until I came up against a line of people waiting to access the middle of the labyrinth. Right in the centre is a flower shape, within which six people can stand as they wait for access to the very centre. The same three women were still monopolising the space.

I waited. And waited. And waited. Ten minutes went by and there was still no movement in the centre. There were, by now, five other people behind me.

Finally, I just said, “Oh fuck it.” I stepped out of the line, walked directly across the sacred labyrinth and sat down next to my husband, saying, “ I’m done. Let’s go. I need to pee.”

As we stood up to leave, there at the entrance of the labyrinth was a huge sign giving advice on how to walk the labyrinth. Clearly, I never do things to correct way so if you like structure, you might want to read the sign before embarking on the walk. I still had a good time winging it.

And that, my friends, is how Chartres Cathedral went for me. Here is some unsolicited advice if you are ever lucky enough to visit any kind of sacred-to-you site.

How should you visit a sacred site?

1. If you are waiting for access to a special spot, be it a kissing stone, or a thing you lay your hands on, don’t be a boob. Touch it, kiss it, say a blessing, and then please, step out of the way and let others experience it. Churches, are, after all, places of worship and people do actually come to pray; quietly.
2. Don’t eat, smoke, snap your gum, apply makeup, crackle cellophane packaging, talk loudly, run, talk on your phone, climb on stuff, make a commentary on a video you are shooting or describe the site loudly to someone who’s on FaceTime with you. I’ve seen and heard all of these things, many many times.

What can you learn about visiting sacred sites?

Interestingly, what I learned most about this experience is my lack of overall patience, especially when someone else is waiting for me on the sidelines. Had I been alone on this trip, I could likely have waited to access the centre ring, even if I did have to pee mightily.

When you travel with someone else, compromise is necessary. Sometimes I want to linger and wander into a shop to look at a cool basket. If we happen upon a small marina, my husband always wants to go look at boats because that’s his thing. I can take it or leave it.

Travelling together means finding ways of communicating one’s needs without making the other person feel bad, lonely, abandoned or rejected. It’s not always easy to do. Sometimes you forget where you are and you bump up against someone who is just minding their own business walking the labyrinth of their life.

Sometimes you just have to practice, as Eckhart Tolle says, “radical presence,” meaning, choosing to stay right in the moment without wishing or striving to be anywhere else.

I’m trying my best to be patient, to ask for what I need, to wait, to give in, to forgive and to just slow the heck down and not try to be “right” all the time. I clearly fail in this effort many times over. The main thing is, I am trying and that’s all one can ask of me, or of anyone else.

Next time, my friends, we will go to a castle; a big one. 

Bisous.