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<title>1991: Cambridge Underground report</title>
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<center><font size=-1>Cambridge Underground 1992 pp 21-25</font>
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<h2>How (not) to drive round Europe</h2>
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<h3>Wookey</h3></center>
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<p>The plan was to for Wook, Henri, Tony, Fran, Andy & Olly to go for a
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week's caving in the Vercours, France, after the expo, and then for
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Wook & Ol to go on to the ExCS Berger trip and then on to the East
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Dorset Italian expo, taking in the Swiss National Caving Conference in the
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middle. Unfortunately things didn't go quite as expected:
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<p>Mo29Jul91: We set off from Hilde's at 11.30pm, two days late after
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an entire day's packing. This 'expo caver' packing meant
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that the van was extremely full, indeed probably overloaded, allowing for
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the weight of me & Henri.
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<p>Tu30Jul91: Awoke to notice that Henri's karrimats had all fallen off the
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roof already - oops. Lots of driving. Got stuck on the Arlberg pass again
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(last year Wookmobile I had simply been unable to get up without conking
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out); overheating this time, but half an hour's rest and another litre of
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water did the trick. Decided to take the motorways for the rest of the trip.
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<p>Oh dear, Henri rolled the van: started drifting towards outside lane,
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beeped at severely by passing fast car, swerved back into lane and then lost
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it with about 3 more swerves before rolling over 1.25 revs to end up on the
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bank/hard shoulder pointing back upstream with a phenomenal amount of shit
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scattered about. 'I think you should turn the engine off now dear'.
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<p>Climbed out through where windscreen used to be. Onlookers amazed to
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find that we were fine. Bits of CD, disks, toffee & hangers all over
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the place, as the back door had burst open when the hole it was supposed to
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fill became a radically different shape. We had both lost our specs. The
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roof was where the passenger's head should have been, trapping the seat
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and thus my rucksack, which had been stuffed behind it. Quite why I
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hadn't been crushed, or at least banged my head wasn't clear.
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<p>Sat around in my shreddies (it had been a hot day) surveying the mess for
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a bit & then started trying to sort out all the shit. Everything was
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covered in gook from the beer bottles, milk, and eggs which had been stuffed
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in the back.
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<p>Two plods and two rescue men arrived and shifted gear. They got fed up
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after an hour or so and started shovelling it all into bin bags - my poor
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floppies!. We travelled with the plods, and watched them reset the caution
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signs by remote control and also open gates to secret backways. Festered and
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starved for another hour in the police station before being told that we
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hadn't bent their motorway and the registration document didn't have a
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taxable weight on it so we wouldn't get done for probably being overloaded,
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but we would have to pay for the recovery.
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<p>The garage men took us away to get stuff from the van. They were somewhat
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surprised when we asked to camp rather than go to a hotel. Had a vesta and
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kipped under the shelter the van had been left in, sleeping on a trailer to
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avoid the water from the impressive thunderstorm. Got bitten to death by
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mozzies (esp henri) but otherwise very nice.
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<p>We31Jul91: Taken from the compound to the garage (at the other end of
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town) by Herr Schwagli (the owner) and started the long and tedious process
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of sorting things out. Rang GESA rescue people but we couldn't find
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green card and UK insurance company was still in bed. Had two hours to wait
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so went off to find green card in van but couldn't find it (the van
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that is). Were found wandering around the town by an English-speaking woman
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who had translated for the garage.
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<p>After another phone call or two (including Tony's mum) we were taken
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back and had dindins, then returned and sat in the garage all afternoon
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while GESA tried to sort out a hire car - v.boring. Rang up to pester and
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point out that there was a bank holiday the next day so they had better get
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it sorted.
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<p>Nasty garage woman mentioned uberladen (overladen) to GESA - silly cow.
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Tried to point out to her that if the insurers got wind of this then she
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wouldn't get any money either. Were informed that Swiss hire cars were
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no good as they aren't allowed out of the country, so we had to get a
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taxi to Basel to pick up a French hire car. Just as taxi arrived everything
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went potty as all the customs faxes (for leaving the car behind) came
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through, the garage revealed its collection fee of &#id163;225 !!, and Ol/Tony
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rang up just to confuse things. We had to ring up National Breakdown to get
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them to promise to pay for the portion or the recovery that GESA
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wouldn't cover (their limit being £150). There was no time for a
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confirmation fax so Henri paid then except that they had to ring up the bank
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to deal with a visa card.
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<p>Finally we left with now fuming taxi-man and his massive horse-box sized
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trailer to collect all our gear. We noticed that the receipt we had been
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given said that we were uberladen (again - morons) - pointed out to Herr
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Schwagli that he wasn't going to get any bloody money if he wrote this
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sort of thing. It finally clicked so he went back to the garage and
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re-wrote it - tee hee.
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<p>The Taxi man gave us loads of stress to go as fast as possible and so we
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just had to throw all the still largely unsorted bin-bags of stuff into this
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horse-box thing - he even managed to get the windsurfer in, but couldn't
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quite manage the hang-glider.
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<p>He then dropped us off in the Swiss half of Basel airport. I rang the
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number he gave us and was told there was an Avis car for us. Avis desk knew
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nothing and neither did any of the others. After much phoning it eventually
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transpired that our car was in the French half, unlike us. The Avis people
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were very upset by the size of our gear pile (and the concept of us putting
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it in one of their cars, I think). They tried to get us a Traffic van or
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similar but failed - no idea why. I pursuaded customs man to let me onto
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French side, and eventually got a Passat estate and garbled instructions
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from by now almost rabid Avis woman.
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<p>Took the car round past snotty border guard (you have to drive 8km to get
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from French to Swiss side of airport, despite being able to see the point you
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are aiming for on the other side of the fence as you set off). Get back to
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dejected-looking Henri sitting atop the gear pile to find severely annoyed
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Avis people as I hadn't signed any papers before driving off in their car!
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Couldn't find my driving licence which pissed Henri off lots, but Avis gave
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up in exasperation about then (10pm) and buggered off.
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<p>We tried packing the car and (not surprisingly) it didn't even
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slightly fit...
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<p>Round about now things started to get a bit much - it was 11pm the day
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before the biggest bank holiday for years, we were stuck in an airport
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carpark with half an expo's worth of gear that wouldn't even pretend to fit
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in our car and we were generally fed up.
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<p>At this point an angel appeared - in the form of Dr Noelpp, a middle-aged
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woman on crutches. She first offered us 40Sfr (about £15) for a taxi,
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and then the use of her garage to put our stuff in. Then she went and
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negotiated with the taxi drivers for us. Eventually a plan was formulated
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to get another estate-sized taxi & take half the shit to the railway
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station & bung it on a train back to England. She wrote out her address
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and left us to get on with it.
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<p>Another taxi was duly filled (although its owner looked decidedly unhappy
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about how grubby our stuff was), and we trailed off to the Bahnhof. There
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Dr Noelpp re-appeared as she had forgotten to give us the bit of paper with
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her address on - dedication! She attempted to negotiate with the railway
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staff but they said nothing doing tonight, and the left luggage people were
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even more unhelpful. Things didn't look too good so we gave up &
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went back to her garage and unloaded the taxi-full of stuff into one corner
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of it. Here 40Sfr conveniently exactly covered the taxi fare (easy come,
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easy go).
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<p>Finally, rather than disturb her flat-mate, she took us to an extremely
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posh hotel round the corner and paid (gold VISA) about £100 for both of
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us to stay the night and have breakfast, incredible! People do not behave
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like this!
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<p>Th01Aug91: Get up in our nice hotel to nice(ish) brekky and go to Basel
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bahnhof to sort out gear transportation. SBB (Swiss railways) told us it
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would be 428Sfr (£150 odd) for 100kg, and suggested that the French
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might be cheaper. SNCF (French railways) told us 13Sfr per bag (much
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cheaper), but only if travelling with the baggage - for separate baggage
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travel go to Societé Express. Much hassle finding appropriate,
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'obviously closed', dingy office. In there we were told (in
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incredibly fast French) that it would be 441Sfr but Swiss loading bays were
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shut so it couldn't be done until tomorrow. If we went to Mulhouse
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(which was properly in France and thus wouldn't be bank-holidayed) we
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could do it. Apparently roadworks meant that Mulhouse-ouest was easiest.
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<p>Went back to Dr Noelpp for a drink and I was lectured on getting young
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ladies in to trouble in this way. I refrained from pointing out that it
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wasn't me that had crashed. :-)
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<p>Then we got back to the now familiar routine of sorting gear. We needed to
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pick things for shipping that we didn't need, that weren't worth too much,
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weren't too heavy, and would survive the experience. We were extremely
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unenthusiastic about packing the car to see how much we could get in, then
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taking it all out so that we could take what was left to Mulhouse, as we had
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had enough of packing, unpacking & re-packing in the last couple of days.
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Thus we just sort of guessed & hoped. The pile that was left looked
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worryingly big.
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<p>Went to Mulhouse, found ouest. 'Nous voudrons emmener près de cent
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Kilos de baggage á Angleterre, S'il vous plaît' 'Sorry, haven't
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been able to do that here for years'. Told to go to Mulhouse central. At
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central told that we could only take 3 bags of 30kg each and only if we
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travelled with them - arghhhhh! - must go to Mulhouse nord. Found a friendly
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postie who showed us where to go.
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<p>Eventually found huge, kilometer-long Victorian goods station. Told there
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that we needed a container(lorry) which would cost 8000ff! - Must find an
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expediteur who packs containers. 'Well, where's one of them then?' At the
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other end of the platform. Sernam. By now we were becoming a little
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disheartened again - time was ticking by and it didn't look like our car-full
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of gear was going anywhere fast. However Sernam were stars! 1180ff for 150kg
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excluding UK customs charges. After a bit of yakking, and abuse about my
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French being crap they just told us to just put everything in a big box. It
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weighed in at 200kg, but the man wrote down 180. After writing customs
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letters we just had to hand over 2000ff (£200) and 'twas done - hooray.
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<p>Went back to Basel to pack rest of gear into car and got fed gaspacho
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soup, melon, salad, and generally had a nice swiss tea party with jokes
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about cannibals in two languages - surreal. Eventually set off at 9 and
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drove to within 11 kloms of Annecy by 1am and kipped by the side of the
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road.
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<p>Fr02Aug91: We had agreed (via Tony's parents) to meet Tony and co. at
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either the Carrefour or the Hang-gliding site in Annecy. This was because
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we were also going to meet Julian here, and we needed him to go and get the
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hang-glider (which was now festering next to the van) back to the UK, as it
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appeared miraculously not to be bent.
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<p>We met Fran and Andy on way out of the Carrefour - hooray! Spent the day
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festering at the HG landing field. I was worried that the insurers were
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going to call the van a write-off. If they did I would get nothing and have
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my perfectly good diesel engine stuck in Switzerland even though it still
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ran (I checked) and thus was worth money, so I hatched a daft plan to drive
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the van back with Olly, and leave Henri to take the Passat back. Henri was
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extremely unenthusiastic, and there were obvious difficulties like having
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some of the lights smashed, probable poor handling (depending on how bent
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chassis was), and getting nicked for driving a vehicle which has obviously
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just been rolled - also UK customs could be difficult about it all. Agreed
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that if GESA/Provincial hadn't already decided it was written off I
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would give them the benefit of the doubt & leave it. It would be always
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be possible to come back for it for not too much expense. They hadn't
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decided yet so loony plan A was shelved.
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<p>Then went to Chambery to wait (from 4pm) for Julian who eventually turned
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up at 10.43pm, having been waiting in some other Carrefour carpark since
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6.00pm.
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<p>Sa03Aug91: Finally pack cars for the last time, distributing gear between
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Julian & Tony, as we will have to carry our stuff onto the ferry, leaving
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the car in France. Also have to make room for Olly as Tony can't stand him
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any longer. Julian heads off to collect hang glider (he ends up having to
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steal it because the compound was shut as it was Sunday). They also drive van
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around to check it still works and steal the battery, as even if I don't get
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the van back the battery will be useful to the expo.
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<p>Meanwhile Tony & I have a great drive across France with two (too)
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fast cars, consistently giving Tony a hard time trying to follow due to
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yobby overtaking.
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<p>Have a hard time at ferry port with most of the gear in Tony's car
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but still two shopping-trolly-fulls which must be unloaded on the boat, and
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all the gear carried up & off the top. Also have to do more
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phone-calling to sort out hire car in UK. Apparently no cars available so
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we will have to have a taxi instead - how sad! We are the only foot
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passengers and get lots of personal Customs officials!
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<p>Took gear back off Tony - put it into Taxi and were driven straight to
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Spalders - luxury.
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<p>The box that we had put on the train was supposed to take 3-4days to get
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to Britain, but actually took 3 weeks in the end having gone via Holland for
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some inexplicable reason. Henri got bored of camping in Spalders back
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garden waiting for it and went back to Bristol. When it did arrive her
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clothes were mouldy.
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<h3>Part II - Wookmobile III</h3>
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Now, for most people, this would be the end of the tale, but I'm a sucker for
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punishment and decided that, having missed the ExCS Berger trip, I would at
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least go and do the third part of my summer holiday - the East Dorset Expo to
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Piagga Bella in Italy. This required a car so I nobbled Bullet, our
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neighbourhood wide boy, who put me in touch with a mate of his with a Volvo
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264 V6 2.7 litre air-conditioned monster for sale for a mere £300 (as it
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didn't have an MOT). The deal was struck (for £275 in fact) and
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Wookmobile III was born. At this stage I was still arguing with NB and GESA
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about getting the van back - they insisted that it was a write-off. I
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insisted that it was worth at least £800 just for the engine so they
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should bring it back. It looked like I was going to have to do it myself so
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the gear for going to Italy included a tow hitch, emergency windscreen, car
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battery, ropes and a scaffold pole so we could tow the van back. Fortunately,
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an hour before we left NB finally agreed to do it for us so we were able to
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leave all this impedimentia behind.
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<p>Sat07Sep91: Drove out to Italy (me, IainM and Olly). Fairly boring and
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car far too full. Only interest was running out of rear brake pads halfway
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across France and having to find some and fit them in a Carrefour car-park.
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<p>Tue17Sep91: Ran of other brake pads in Switzerland. More running about to
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find a shop and payment method.
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<p>Th19Sep91: Set off in the afternoon, giving us 40 hours to get to the
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BCRA conference at UMIST. This thus gave a good 12 odd hours for disasters
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before we actually became late. As we drove across Italy it became obvious
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that the car was underperforming badly, with acceleration only just possible
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- too much throttle just made it splutter. We got as far as the road up to
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the pass between Italy & France, but after doing 5mph up it for ages
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stopped to try and fettle it. This was a grave error. Looked at huge V6
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injection thingy and realised that we had no idea how to fix it - or even
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work out what was wrong.
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<p>Gave up after deciding that it was probably the fuel, and set off to ring
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Nat Bdown. Walked 4 or 5 clicks back down the road to find a phone but as I
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only had about 1800 lire I got about 4 seconds - not terribly useful. It was
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now about 2am. Mr plod spoke fuck all English and was pretty useless. He
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suggested ringing 116 appearing to claim that either the call or the service
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was free, but it didn't work with no dosh. Gave up and walked back up hill to
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re-try attempt on summit and get into France if at all possible, as it is
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closer to England and we speak the language. Car now wouldn't even start so
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gave up and just rolled back down the hill and went to sleep.
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<p>Fr20Sep91: Woke at 07.30 and set off to find a phone/change. If we could
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get the car fixed by midday we could still get to the conference (and
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probably sleep through most of it). Used a hotel phone and after a bit of
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difficulty because their ring-back number was wrong I got through. The repair
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man arrived by 9.00 and after scraping a big hole in the tarmac with the
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exhaust pipe dragging the extremely full Volvo onto the transporter. We were
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on our way. The first garage wouldn't even let us off the transporter, so we
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went on to a Volvo garage, halfway back to Torino (grrr). They did all the
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usual things and after a false alarm about water in the fuel they decided
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that they couldn't fix it.
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<p>By now it was past the midday deadline and we were definitely going to be
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late. Soon, we were off to the central Volvo garage in Torino. But we had to
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sit in the car for two hours in mid transport as it was siesta time! Then we
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wasted about an hour arguing about payment; I was trying to explain that Nat
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Bdown should pay & this Italian just kept shouting at me a lot. Crazy
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scene of me & Italian ranting at each other in alternate languages -
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neither understanding a word the other said! Eventually I realised that
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despite transporting us for over an hour he only wanted 35,000 lire
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(£17) (bit cheaper than £225 for 10mins in Switzerland). Complete
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inability of Italians to deal with concept of Access or Eurocheques, and my
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lack of cash meant he took a £20 note in the end.
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<p>Finally Volvo looked at the car (and kept comparing it with another one in
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the corner). Eventually decided that the fuel controller was knackered and
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that they could probably get one by Monday, and I couldn't leave the car in
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the garage - I would have to park it outside. All translation was done via
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one poor secretary who spoke halting English.
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<p>We finally gave up hope of getting to the conference and Iain & Ol
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decided to go home while I would wait for car to be fixed. So after a
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couple more hours of wandering about making spurious phone calls to NB for
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confirmation (discovering that you need at least 200 lire to prime a callbox
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for freephone calls), Ol and Iain set off by train. I was immediately
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befriended by the man whose house I was now camping outside, and given a
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shower, wine and fruit, whilst attempting to communicate in schoolboy
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german. He took me to see his friend Giovanni who had been a Cornish tin
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miner 30 years ago! They decided that the garage Giovanni worked at would
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have a look at the car tomorrow, as Volvo were shut for the weekend.
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<p>Sa21Sep91: Team mechanic came to push the car round the block to the
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garage to see if they could fix it. It only took them a bit more than an
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hour to decide that it was a job for Volvo (surprise, surprise).
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<p>I now had two days in Torino to kill - yum, yum. Went for a wander into
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town to get some dosh and do some shopping, and had a look round Torino
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centro. Italy is improving rapidly - it is the first country which has
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cashpoint machines that actually recognise my eurocard and will give me dosh
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(and English instructions). Checked out the very cheap and revoltingly
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uncensored porn in the high street, and spent the rest of the day festering
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in the car (doing the expo accounts), except for a couple of hours in the
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evening watching all 29 channels of Italian tv, in the nightwatchman's
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hut in the garage (it was manned 24hrs as it doubled as a lock-up car park
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for rich Italians).
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<p>Su22Sep91: I was woken up by Maurizio (Modolo), the garage manager, and
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told that I could have dinner at his place. He had obviously been
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practising his English as yesterday he had been frustrated by a complete
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inability to communicate with me (I was not particularly frustrated as this
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had become the standard state of affairs - and just smiled at him a lot
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until he gave up the attempt). After being stuffed silly on ham, melon,
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pasta, roast beef, chips and salad, by his mother, I was taken on a tour of
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Torino: Including the Basilica Superga, a huge cathedral on a mountain
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thingy, then ice cream and some bloody great tower in Torino Centro which,
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of course, one wasn't allowed to climb to the top of or to ab down the
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side of. Then it was back for tea (his mother is trying to kill me with too
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much food). He even let me use his phone to ring Henri in England!
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Astounding hospitality, these Italians.
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<p>Mo23Sep91: Rolled back to Volvo by Giovanni, and Maurizio. Punto Auto
|
|
Volvo finally get their act together, identify a shagged fuel pump and
|
|
replace it by 11.30am. Had to pay by cash as they are such tossers, so to
|
|
avoid being lunchtimed again I had to sprint into town to find two banks
|
|
that would cash Eurocheques to cover the 473,000 lire they wanted (about
|
|
£180, gulp). I just made it, and was impressed by the mechanic's
|
|
English efforts!
|
|
|
|
<p>Then the relatively trivial matter of 11.5hrs drive to somewhere
|
|
nondescript in France.
|
|
|
|
<p>Tu24Sep91: Car took 15mins to start: badly in need of a fettle - good job
|
|
it has a battery that will turn the engine forever. Crashed slightly en
|
|
route - oops. Accelerating uphill on tightly left curving dual carriageway.
|
|
Just made it past an artic when the back started to drift. Caught it, but
|
|
it thrashed back the other way, I ran out of steering travel, and thus
|
|
bounced off the barrier (front left corner), directly in front of the artic.
|
|
Fortunately the hgv stopped (I thanked him when I overtook him again a few
|
|
klicks later). The only damage was a deformed bumper, and the radiator
|
|
grill fell off (good gear, Volvo's). This was the first time I had
|
|
driven the car in the rain in the three weeks I had had it, and had
|
|
discovered that it was a bit frisky. Arrived at Bologne at 3pm and told pay
|
|
£38 extra or wait. I waited - another few hours after spending 5 days
|
|
trying to get back to the UK was no big deal.
|
|
|
|
<p>So there you have it. National Breakdown are stars. However they do
|
|
have limitations, and in order not to have epics it is worth remembering not
|
|
to:-
|
|
|
|
<p>a) crash your vehicle if it contains more shit than can be got into a
|
|
large estate car.
|
|
|
|
<p>b) break down in Italy if you have an ancient Volvo & you don't
|
|
speak Italian.
|
|
|
|
<p>Just remember these simple rules and you should have years of
|
|
trouble-free European motoring.
|
|
|
|
<hr />
|
|
<!-- LINKS -->
|
|
<ul>
|
|
<li>Cambridge Underground 1992,
|
|
<a href="../../../jnl/1992/index.htm">Table of Contents</a></li>
|
|
<li><a href="../../piclinks/wkmob.htm">Photo</a> of both Wookmobiles involved</li>
|
|
<li>1991 Expedition info:
|
|
<ul>
|
|
<li><a href="index.htm">Index</a> (more detail than in this list)</li>
|
|
<li><a href="report.htm">Austria '91</a> Report</li>
|
|
<li><a href="log.htm">Logbook</a></li>
|
|
</ul></li>
|
|
<li><a href="../../pubs.htm#pubs1991">Index</a> to all publications</li>
|
|
<li><a href="../../index.htm">Back to Expeditions intro page</a></li>
|
|
<li><a href="../../../index.htm">CUCC Home Page</a></li>
|
|
</ul>
|
|
</body>
|
|
</html>
|