Sat Dec 14th: Herculaneum

A fairly long but routine journey of 600 plus miles, with an overnight stop, saw us arrive at Pompeii on Thursday evening. On Friday we caught up with jobs like shopping and washing, and on Saturday we visited Herculaneum. 

Herculaneum is 10 miles from Pompeii. Both were destroyed by the same eruption of volcano Vesuvius in 79 AD. Herculaneum is much closer to Vesuvius, so suffered an even more cataclysmic impact. It was buried in volcanic ash 60 feet thick; however, this ensured a better state of preservation, even down to loaves of bread. 

This is the cone of Vesuvius looming over the ancient ruins and also the modern town on the higher level. It’s still active, and overdue another eruption according to the experts. “Don’t panic!”, as Mr Jones of Dad’s Army would have said.

 

The town lay undiscovered until the 18^th century when a well digger uncovered fragments of the theatre, and today still only 25% of it has been excavated.  

It was a prosperous residential town of 4,000 inhabitants, and this street could be almost anywhere from any era. It has stone or brick houses, proper paved roads, pavements and a gutter.

 

Like in these days, there were many eating establishments where you could sit in or take away. The photo below shows a countertop with jars inset that contained the hot food. This was Roman fast food, their equivalent of  a ‘big Mac’, or ‘Maximus Mac’ as they might have called it

 

Public facilities were also top class in the town. The ladies bathhouse is particularly well preserved as can be seen from this changing room with its geometric mosaic floor and individual partitions on the shelves for clothes. A sophisticated touch: the roof is fluted so that condensation runs down the walls instead of dripping onto the bathers’ heads. We can’t have drips pestering the lady bathers.  

This public hall in the next photo was very grand and gives an idea of the ornate decoration applied to some of the plastered walls in other buildings. This edifice was used as a shrine to perform rites in honour of the emperor Augustus and may also have been a place for meetings of town dignitaries.

Nearly all of the internal artefacts and decorative panels in the town were carted off by the early excavators for use in their own premises. Some have found their way back to the National Archaeological Museum in Naples, and a few still remain in situ to give us an idea of the artistic excellence achieved in those early times. This wall panel, for example, is the Roman equivalent of the three ducks on the wall (who remembers them?):

It was thought until the 1980’s that most residents would have had enough warning to escape. However, in that decade further excavations along the old shoreline revealed over 300 bodies in boat houses presumably waiting to be rescued by sea. Analysis has revealed that a cloud of super-heated gas from the eruption killed them instantly. Somewhat gruesomely, these skeletons have been left in place, as the photo shows.

Herculaneum was a fascination window into life 2,000 years ago, with many similarities to our modern society particularly if you take our electronic gadgetry out of the comparison. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday 8th Dec: Malpasset Dam

The campsite is on the edge of Frejus town, not far from the site of an old dam where there are walking trails through the rolling hills. The afternoon light is starting to fade, but the picture below gives an idea of the lovely countryside.

What’s left of Malpasset dam is still impressive. Jane is standing near the base of what was once a 200 foot high concrete dam wall retaining the reservoir lake.

The dam was newly constructed, and had reached full capacity by late 1959 following torrential autumn rains. On the evening of December 2^nd 1959 the dam broke, sending a wall of water initially 150 feet high, down the valley towards Frejus and the sea, 10 miles away. The wave was still 10 feet high when it reached the sea. Pieces of dam weighing hundreds of tons can be seen strewn all down the valley as far as a mile away from the breach.

A simple plaque commemorates France’s biggest civilian disaster of the 20^th Century. 423 people lost their lives plus an indeterminate number of encamped unregistered workers employed on the new A8 motorway construction.  

Although over 50 years ago, you couldn’t help but imagine the horrors of that evening back in 1959. A bit more to think about than usual during an afternoon stroll.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sicily Winter 2013-2014

Blog on the starting blocks: destination Sicily

Dec 4^th: to Frejus

For the first leg of the journey, we set out to drive as far as Frejus on the French Riviera and then take a few days’ break. Travelling in December you can expect a selection of rain, fog, strong wind, freezing temperatures and snow. We weren’t disappointed, and got it all apart from the snow, also a huge traffic jam on the A14/ M11 around Cambridge that meant we missed our tunnel slot. None of this was a big deal: after 3 days and 900 miles, we are here safely in Frejus.  

This is Frejus, the old town, founded in Roman times as a trading port.

The sea has retreated since then so the town is a mile inland.  

 

The old town is engulfed by Frejus the holiday resort. The large boats in the large yacht marina indicate that it’s a destination for the in crowd. However, the smart set has obviously fallen on hard times; I was expecting to see a Ferrari parked on the quayside rather than a bike.

In an agency window fronting the marina we noticed that a boat similar to the nearest one in the photo was offered for charter at a mere 13,000 euros a day or 78,000 euros a week. That’s £11,000 and £66,000 respectively. This is a different world to the one in which we common folks dwell!

 

Next, onto the beach adjoining the marina.

 

 

It’s a good sandy beach and typically narrow Mediterranean because of the small tides. All beaches look best in sunny weather and the kids here were actually splashing in the sea. The weather has been great since we arrived and we’ve sat out in the sun in our deserted campsite every day between about 11.30 and 3.00pm. Here’s Jane sparing a moment to look up from her beading. That’s our caravan in the background.

This part of the campsite is sheltered by bushes and cork oaks. These are still harvested commercially by stripping off sections of bark, by hand, every 9 to 12 years for turning into cork products like wine corks and table mats. The tree behind Jane is one such tree where the area stripped can be clearly seen. If you were a female doing this work you’d need to be careful how you described your job.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 



 

May 6th: Moss Park

We are planning four days of complete relaxation before allowing a final two days at another campsite for cleaning the motorhome and packing for the return flight.  

Moss Park is owned and operated by Orange County as a wildlife reserve and campsite. The pitches are huge and around 30 yards apart. You sit at your picnic bench and the wildlife comes to you. This is where we are. The legs belong to Jane.

The picnic table itself provided the first visitor, a white furry caterpillar that went round and round the table. Just like Dougal from the Magic Roundabout.

A raccoon ambles past and makes for the two communal rubbish bins. Straight away it lifts each lid and hauls out a bag from one, quickly ripping it open and extracting an item of food. Hey, that’s our rubbish bag and he’s got our banana skin. Feeling now responsible for the raccoon’s mess, I run over. Raccoon bolts up the tree with banana skin. I repair bag and put back in bin. I jam both lids on tight. Here’s the culprit, the banana skin held under right paw.

I return to our picnic bench. Raccoon swiftly descends tree and equally swiftly removes lids “securely” wedged on by me a few minutes ago. Raccoon-1, Campers-Nil.

Now enter the cavalry, the Park Rangers rubbish collection truck, zooming round the corner in a cloud of dust. Raccoon bolts; rubbish bins are emptied; tranquillity returns to the jungle. 

A wild turkey appears from nowhere. It approaches warily. Any food? No? (Note: it’s forbidden to feed wildlife.) I’ll be off then. We didn’t need to shout “Christmas Dinner” at him.

There’s no particular order to my description of these encounters. The deer came late evening, in the low sunlight and long shadows, making an attractive forest canvas.

I’m giving the impression that we sat at our picnic bench all day. We didn’t. The reserve contained some lovely walks, with lakes and open woodland. One section was called Split Oak. One often wonders where these names originate, often without finding out. This time, after walking a couple of miles, we came upon a board that told the tale. About 50 years ago, a 200 year oak tree split down the middle due to the weight of its branches, but it continued to grow. This is what it looks like now.

This is a fox squirrel that we saw on another walk. These are bigger and sturdier than the common grey squirrel, and generally rare.

The evening light was quite magical, and this photo is a fitting final tribute to our four lovely days in Moss Park.

May 1st to May 6th: St Augustine

We’re back in Florida again, the Sunshine State. So far, three days of solid, torrential rain and gusty winds. But the forecast for our last day tomorrow is better, so we’re going to see St Augustine three miles down the road, the oldest continuously inhabited town in North America. 

St Augustine was founded in 1565 when Admiral Pedro Menendez de Aviles established a settlement to protect Spanish interests. He landed on St Augustine’s day in 1565, hence the town’s name, on the spot marked by this 208 foot steel cross. It’s the tallest in the world but doesn’t look it at this distance.

Since Columbus’ discovery of America in 1492 the New World was up for grabs. Spain was well ahead of other European countries and needed anchor towns from which to further expand and also to protect its domains from enemy raids.

St Augustine was to be one such town and was in fact attacked and destroyed by Sir Francis Drake in 1586. The English plundered it again in 1668 so Spain decided to protect the town with a much stronger fort. Work started in 1672 on the Castillo de San Marcos, a large, stone-built structure with a moat, garrison and cannon. Here’s the entrance.

Inside, the spacious central area was used for drill or to accommodate the townsfolk when attack threatened. The English laid siege to the town again in 1702 but this time the fort withheld the siege and protected all the townsfolk gathered within. The English did, however, destroy the town so there are no buildings pre-dating 1702.

The fort is a National Monument so is administered by the National Parks Service. The ranger did an excellent job of explaining its history, and we also saw also a live cannon firing. Here it is with the “Dad’s Army” squad in period costume loosing off a live round, less cannon ball. The whole platform shook. It was surely just a coincidence that the passing yacht sank.

There were some splendid old guns on the gun deck. This mortar cannon with its bronze patina looks more like an ornamental flower planter. The photo makes it appear that the gunner has just blasted a section out of the parapet wall. “Sorry, Sarge, I was distracted by the señoritas.”

These are the garrison quarters- not, I hasten to add, a ward in our local NHS Hinchingbrooke Hospital.

The fort was used as a prison for some of the American Indians who rebelled against the seizing of their tribal lands and compulsory relocation to reservations many hundreds of miles from their territory. The plaque here explains the object of their imprisonment here.

The Kiowa Indians in particular showed a talent for art and produced some work remarkably like our own L S Lowry’s matchstick style paintings. Maybe Lowry took his inspiration from him! This is an example.

After the fort, we looked at the town. I’m really doing two blogs in one here, so please bear with me as I’m trying to keep up to date as the end of the holiday is looming.

 

The town looks very Spanish as you might expect, and later buildings were added in the same style even after Florida became American. The church and square could be anywhere in Spain.

An example of one of these later Spanish-style buildings was this luxury hotel. It was built in1901 by Henry Flagler the oil magnate, whose investment and influence caused the east coast of Florida to be developed for winter tourism for the wealthy.

There were lots of pretty squares, like this one where we stopped for coffee. Jane looks like she’s being swallowed up by the foliage.

Many buildings in the town proclaim to be the oldest in the USA. The plaque says this is the oldest wooden schoolhouse in the USA. Presumably some other towns claim the oldest stone schoolhouse, the oldest brick schoolhouse, the oldest concrete schoolhouse and so on. This could be a great car game for the kids- see how many different types of schoolhouse you can create.

Now for a more magnificent building: the Memorial Presbyterian Church, also built by Flagler in 1889 to commemorate his daughter’s death. He’s also buried there.

St Augustine had a relaxed feel and was genuinely old and atmospheric, more Mediterranean than American. It was touristy, as expected, but not swamped by it. We enjoyed the town very much.

 

Tomorrow, Monday May 6^th, we travel the 120 mile south to Orland, firstly to Moss Park, a county wildlife reserve with camping facilities, but no internet.