Campervan Therapy

Walking along Glenmalure Valley granite monoliths are engraved with past battles and leaders from 1580 and 1798.

It’s hard to imagine battles raging in this valley though the ruins of the old barracks and the military road are reminders of turbulent times.

We walk along the valley floor to the end of Glenmalure to the ruins of old lead mines, ferns nod over the narrow road. Larch, pine and spruce scent the air, some planted as pit-props for the mines. What appears on first sight to be a completely natural scene, lightly touched by humans, is anything but.

Today though all we can hear is the Avonbeg River, the waterfall, and the high whistle of the sparrowhawks up in the mountains.

At the end of the valley the circular tour takes us past the ruins of the crushing house, and the mine manager’s house.

Then the WB Yeats Ship takes us comfortably from Dublin across the Irish Sea and English Channel to Cherbourg and before we know it we’re camped up on the municipal campsite opposite Amboise’s château, watching terns diving into the River Loire fishing for their supper.

Sitting under the castle ramparts, the town is alive with excitement over the Olympic opening ceremony, but unlike the downpour in Paris, the night is balmy enough for the outdoor screening. The scene is essentially French – cobbled streets, iron work lamps, tufa stone castle walls.

Cycling along beside the Loire it’s possible to go for miles, the whole campsite full of cycling families, the children behind the parents like a string of ducklings.

Himself is delighted with the next stop he finds on ‘Search for Sites’, a country inn and free camper stop with hosts Richard and Andrew if you eat there. As with all these random things, the Les Roches Auberge proves to be a magic find. We camp up outside the bucolic inn, its dining area perched above the River Sioule, in the Puy de Dome region’s Gorges du Sioule.

Hiking up the forested gorge, red stained, monumental cliffs soar up from the tree canopy, with mica sparkling in the sun. The forest within the gorge dense with chestnut, pine, spruce.

Underneath the trees, moss covered boulders line the path and caterpillars hang from branches on silver fine string so they look like hundreds of miniature trapeze artists. Bats fly through the tunnel cut through the mountain side many years ago when the road was built and how anyone achieved this is mind-blowing. Of course there’s a fortified castle in Chouvigny, families picnicking on the river, yellow flowering mullein, purple loosestrife, lady’s bedstraw and a host of butterflies.

Richard, back at Les Roches, is so welcoming. We feast on a superlative goat’s cheese salad, topped with local honey and salted walnuts, followed by herb coated salmon and the most subtle of Cajun spiced mayonnaise. Andrew, the chef, comes out to check on each table. We reassure him that the food was delicious. A night with only the sound of the river ends a perfect day and Seán is super-smug with the success of his free camper-stop find.