Arras: Carriere Wellington

 The tour group, about a dozen of us, is first briefed on safety and then issued with a First World War soldier’s helmet for protection. 

The guide explains, in English and French, that the tunnels started as separate limestone quarries from the Middle Ages onwards. By the outbreak of war in 1914 they covered a vast area in 25 separate locations.  

Early on the war had reached stalemate, with allied trenches facing the Germans’ a few hundred yards apart. Each side looked for a breakthrough, and one method both used was to tunnel to lay charges under the opposition lines hoping to weaken the line enough to storm it with an assault over no-man’s land. This rarely worked, and thousands lost their lives to machine gun fire. 

By September 1916 the British had discovered the existence of the quarries under Arras, some of which extended under the German lines. The idea was to join them up and mount a surprise attach behind enemy lines, our troops emerging from the old quarry workings to seize and hold enemy-occupied territory. 

But could they be joined up? The New Zealand Tunnelling Company was tasked with the work, to be completed by April 1917 to support a general attack that was being planned. The New Zealanders completed the work on time, digging an amazing 6 miles of tunnel. The complex was named Carriere Wellington (Wellington Quarry), after Wellington, the capital city of New Zealand, as recognition of their herculean achievement. 

We’ll follow the tour now and see how the joined up tunnel system was used as we proceed. This photo shows the group just into the tunnels, duly helmeted. The guide has stopped, back to the wall, to point out relevant features. Here, the roof is higher due to old quarrying.

She indicates ventilation shafts, and some rusty worktools that were found.

The Tommies sat behind the tools are projected on the wall to remind us what the tunnels were created for – the surprise attack. 

There are recreated bunk beds, cooking and toilet facilities, examples of which are shown below. Thankfully, they have not attempted to recreate the smell of the 24,000 troops living down here if only for a short time before the attack.

At dawn on 9^th April 1917, the 24,000 troops sallied forth and the battle began. Unfortunately, the planned supporting attacks on other parts of the line were delayed and the action fizzled out, with punitive loss of life on both sides. Arras carried on as a front line bastion until the end of the war when Grandpa Sanders returned to Wales and used his saddlery skills to set up a shoe repair shop. 

It’s impossible to appreciate the trauma soldiers experience in war, and the First World War would have been one of the worst for creating nightmare scenarios that only other Tommies who fought could appreciate. But visiting the tunnels and other scenes of combat allow us to reflect on what they went through and the sacrifices they made to enable us to enjoy the comfortable lifestyle we have today.

Arras: 30th May

This is our last stop before crossing to Folkestone: from here it’s an easy 80 mile motorway run to Calais. However, the weather has deteriorated and we have rain showers and a 16C max temperature, but we are determined to visit Arras to see where Grandpa Sanders was stationed in World War 1. He was a saddler, working just behind the front lines. 

Arras was on that front line for most of the 1914-18 war, occupied by the allies but under constant German shell fire. The first photo below, taken before 1914, shows town hall and belfry ( Belfroi de l’Hotel de Ville) in the Place des Heros, one of the two main squares in the city. 

Intense shelling by the Germans quickly reduced 90% of Arras to rubble. This is the same square later in the war.

At the end of the war in 1918, with such complete destruction, it would have been easiest to build a brand new town. However, it was decided to faithfully recreate all of the previous buildings using original plans. So, the town hall sprung to life again, magnificent even on this dull day.

The whole central area has been faithfully reconstructed in the Flemish style, some 230 building like these below, so the info board tells us.

The town hall building is open to visitors, so we enter to be faced by three giant figures. The tradition of these giants is widespread in northern France and Belgium, and dates back to the 16^th century. They are meant to represent valiant protectors from the town’s history, clearly not very effective in that role as they were destroyed in WW1 along with the rest of the town. Undaunted, the townsfolk revived the figures in the 1920s, but these fared no better in protecting the town as they were also obliterated by the Germans in WW2. We move on to the 1980s for the latest version of the giants, seen here in the photo. Perhaps they’ll do better against the Russians or Chinese.

Moving just out of the centre, in a rather ordinary square, we spot an out-of-place object.

The clue is in the square’s name: Place d’Ipswich. Arras is twinned with Ipswich. The whole square contains nothing noteworthy except the church, which is pleasant with a fine stained glass window - modern, but then we’d not expect glass to survive either world war.

 

We move on and pass an ornate concert hall that to me looks like a fire station – in my mind’s eye,  the white doors will suddenly burst open and two keystone-cops type fire engines will thunder forth, brass bells clanging and firemen holding on for dear life.

Now we’re at Arras’s cathedral, a late 18^th century build, or rather rebuild following WW1. Then and now photos tell the tale.

We haven’t really done justice to Arras due to poor weather and lack of time, but we did make one other trip to Arras that was weather-independent, a guided trip around tunnels known as the Carriere Wellington.

Pont du Gard

 Our last trip out before leaving St Remy was to the Pont du Gard. This is a Roman aqueduct built in AD 60 to carry water 30 miles from source near Uzes to the city of Nemausus, present-day Nimes. To do so it was necessary to cross the river Gardon with this spectacular aqueduct.

To get an idea of scale, the next photo is taken from the road bridge that runs alongside the lower tier. The road bridge was added in the 17^th century but is not now used for vehicles apart from those of the tourist office that operates the site.

The tourist centre runs cafés, souvenir shops and exhibition hall in a complex near the large car park (9  euros). When we visited 35 years ago there was nothing here and you parked where you could for free. It was so quiet that we sat by the river for a long time and watched two kingfishers fishing in the river. Now both the aqueduct and the river are popular destinations for tourists, school parties, bus trips and canoeists. The view from the road bridge shows the picturesque river, with canoes.

Walking to the aqueduct we passed some attractive provencal buildings that seem to blend in with the landscape, for example.

And a final look at this awe-inspiring structure, 160 feet high, 900 feet long, estimated weight 50.400 tons, and taking around 15 years to complete. It was constructed largely without using mortar, with some of the blocks weighing 6 tons.

 

The Camargue

 The Rhone delta is called the Camargue, a huge area of marshland and water channels. It is an hour by car from St Remy. As with the fenland in East Anglia, a large part has been adapted for agricultural use and also to reduce mosquitos, but I assure you that there are still plenty left! The photo is of a typical crop, one that wouldn’t be possible in the fens – rice. The water levels are controlled by the dyke on the right.

There are still plenty of original wetlands remaining, mostly the sections nearer the sea, where exotic species like flamingos are to be found.

The Camargue is also famous for its wild white horses, but it’s debatable as to how many are really wild. The numerous horse trekking centres here all use white horses that are have clearly been tamed, but let’s pretend that the herd in the next photo are the real thing.

This is where black fighting bulls are bred to be used in bullfights in this part of Provence. The spectacle takes place in such historic places as the Roman arena at Arles. Unlike Spanish bullfighting, the bull is not killed and the bullfight amounts to a contest between the agility of the matador and the bull. Here they are looking deceptively docile.

There is just one town in the Camargue, on the Mediterranean, Les-Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. It is  named after St Mary Jacobe and St. Mary Salome. One of the Marys (no agreement on which one) had a daughter Sara who is the patron saint of gypsies. At the end of May each year thousands of gypsies travel here from all parts of Europe to celebrate their Saint Sara in a week-long festival. 

By chance, we happened to visit the town on the Saturday of the festival week. We managed to park with great difficulty as the town was thronged by thousands of gypsies with their caravans, and multitudes of sightseers like ourselves. 

The festival is focused on the church where the effigy of Sara lies. The church was fortified to provide protection for the residents in case of attack by pirates. We’re not too sure that the pirates have gone away.

Sara’s effigy is taken from the church towards the sea in a slow procession several times during the week, but unfortunately not when we were there. Sara must be kept somewhere near the altar end in the photo but I thought it best not go for a close-up.

Most of the gypsy caravans were modern but there were a few traditional ones that must be stored locally: can’t imagine this one trundling all the way from, say, Romania!

We saw off-the-cuff gypsy guitar music and dancing, very much like flamenco. 

Some gypsies had dressed up for the occasion, as in the two following photos. The lady looks very elegant but the man seems to be stuck in the 1960’s – look at those winkle pickers, no wonder he’s sitting down!.

We managed to bat off the charmless charm sellers which was only a minor irritation in a pleasant and unique day out. The town itself, because of its isolation, has its own identity and even its own cross which is a crucifix with an anchor. This symbol appears everywhere, for example even on this (decaying) front gate.

Homeward Bound

 We left our base camp at Los Madriles in Murcia, Spain, on Sunday 19^th May and travelled for three consecutive days up the Mediterranean coast into the south of France. We headed for St-Remy-de-Provence, where we plan to stay for a week. We are again now seeing new and interesting places, so the blog can continue. 

As background, St Remy was our first caravan holiday destination back in 1989 when we borrowed Mum & Dad’s caravan. We’re not at the same site but in the same area on the edge of town, with a spacious and pleasant pitch.

The lush vegetation is partly kept under control by these chaps. Hopefully, they won’t need to stand on the caravan roof to reach the highest branches.

The town of St Remy was founded as Glanum on the Roman via Domitia, built in the 2^nd Century BC as the first road to link Rome and Spain, crossing Provence to do so. At the edge of town is a triumphal arch from 20 AD celebrating Caesar’s conquests in Gaul and a mausoleum from the same era. These formed a gateway into the town of Glanum whose excavated remains can be visited (we didn’t). Now- is the arch extra small or Jane extra large?

Right across the road from the Arch is the mental sanctuary, the monastery of Saint-Paul de Mausole, where Van Gogh spent a year trying to recover his sanity after cutting off his own ear. I suppose that's better than cutting of someone else’s ear. This is the entrance now, followed by Van Gogh’s 1889 painting of it. 

Surrounding the monastery are walkways with Van Gogh’s paintings at the very spot where he painted, e.g. the one above. This is another example, where the shape of the hill is clearly recognisable.

We remember the town of St Remy as elegant and up-market, and set off to see if it’s changed. We arrive at the edge of town to see diversions and streets closed: we have stumbled on the festival of St Eloi who turns out to be the patron saint of farmers, horses and farriers. Here are all the cart horses lined up waiting to start the parade.

Off they go, and last in line is the float dedicated to St. Eloi. It appears that several plane trees are growing out of the float but be assured that they are firmly anchored to the pavement behind.

The parade is accompanied by folks in traditional dress, like the lady in the next photo. 

Into the shopping area now,  and the town is just as swish as we recalled. This is one of the pretty streets: just as well you can’t read the price tickets!

But it’s a most pleasant atmosphere, for example this corner with a small fountain.

Plenty of restaurants, too, in picturesque squares - and not a McDonald’s in sight!. This one could almost be a Renoir painting

There’s more to explore around this area so please hang on in for the blogs to follow.

Carmona

 Carmona, less than 30 minutes drive from Seville, is a beautiful, historic, small town. It is the Spanish home of Michael Portillo, the TV rail traveller and ex-MP. His connection with Spain is a father who lectured at Salamanca university and fled to England at the time of the Spanish civil war. Disappointingly, Michael did not put in an appearance to show us round. 

We parked outside the old town in an  underground pay car park. Although there are several free parks, these are patrolled by self appointed parking attendants wearing official-looking high-viz jackets who demand money for parking, so you either pay up or risk damage to your vehicle. We’ve come across this at other places in Spain. 

Emerging from the car park, we see a lovely view of San Pedro church with its tower modelled on the Giralda tower in Seville.

Just beyond the church is the Puerta de Sevilla, the entrance to the old town. The gate is mainly original Roman structure through which the main road, the via Augusta, passed on its way to Cordoba.

It’s a double gate, and the next photo shows how massive and well fortified it was. Nothing, of course, is completely original as is see from the Moorish arches added later.

Just inside the gate, the old town is pleasantly laid out mainly in this style of building.

It’s a short walk to the central square, the Plaza de San Fernando. Folks from my generation will understand when I say that the last train is still expected here. The square contains some splendid Moorish style buildings  like the Casa de Cabildo, the old town hall.

Just beyond the square is the 14^th century church of Santa Maria la Mayor built over a mosque. The tower is thought to be adapted from the mosque’s minaret.

Inside, the church is beautifully proportioned, with marble tiled floors and sweeping arches.

he guide book tells us that the ornate panel over the alter is called a retablo, and can be illuminated by inserting a coin. We see that it’s already lit up so someone’s already activated the lights.

Leaving the church, we walked to the Cordoba Gate at the other end of the old town, from where the road sped on to Cordoba. It’s a fine old edifice, originally Roman but modified many times since. The latest modification appears to be stopping it from crumbling.

Onwards and upwards to Pedro’s Alcazar, a massive fortress that dominates the eastern side of the town. The fortress walls were badly damaged by an earthquake in 1504, but apparently never fully repaired.

Part of the decaying structure was saved by being converting into a parador. These are state-run hotels usually in ancient buildings that would otherwise have been lost to the ravages of time. So, we go  through this gate…

…and into the parador grounds.

Paradors operate at the higher end of the hotel market, but perhaps not luxury category. This one costs around £200 per night for a double room - well over a week’s campsite fees! 

One reputed gem we didn’t have time to visit was the Roman necropolis, half a mile out of town. We’ll look forward to seeing it another time, and  the town merits another visit.