Nerve-Jangling Drive to Calais via Bellicourt

Man down! Jay is in pain and struggling to walk. While he said he’s perfectly OK to drive, there was no way I could let him sit still for hours to drive us back to Calais. It was time for me to pull on my big girl pants and take to the wheel.

I’ve always been a named driver on our insurance policy, and I used to drive Harvey (our first camper) quite a bit. Dave (our previous Hymer) was quite a bit bigger than Harvey, and because navigating – and disagreeing with satnav – is my particular set of skills, Jay always drove.

When we were in Finland, on straight, empty roads – apart from the odd reindeer – I learned to drive Zagan. We’d take it in turns each day as we worked our way around into Norway. In fact I got so confident that I even drove him into Oslo. Then I stopped driving him. We fell back into our old ways and I haven’t driven him since July 2017 when Jay had a boozy night before an early morning ferry, so drove us to the port.

This time around, Jay winced himself in behind the wheel and drove us onto the motorway, then we pulled into the first aire and swapped over. It took me a while to get my eye in because he is such a wide vehicle, a little over 2m. I lost count of how many times I drifted over the rumble strips at the side of the motorway, and dreaded the wallowing action when we overtook, or were overtaken by a lorry. Toll booths are scary as they is a lot of concrete and metal funneling you in, but I even managed a few of those before it was time to leave the motorway.

My confidence grew and I drove us off the motorway, along a few main roads and into a lovely free parking space near Bellicourt for the night. We picked it because it was en-route and easy to get to. It was a bit in the middle of nowhere, but we were going nowhere fast so that wasn’t a problem.

It turned out that there was quite a lot to see here in the middle of this nowhere. The free motorhome parking was next to a tourist office which was there because of the Riqueval Tunnel. In 1801 Napoleon ordered tunnels to be built to enable the Saint Quentin canal to reach Cambrai in the north.

The Riqueval tunnel at 5670 meters (over 3 miles) long was once the longest in the world, but is still the longest in France. Napoleon himself even made a journey through it. At first 7 or 8 men used to haul the barges through the tunnel, a feat which would take 12 to 14 hours. In time these were replaced by a carousel towing engine powered by 6 to 8 horses, then a steam towing engine – which caused problems due to fumes.

In 1906 a specially designed ‘toueur’ barge, powered by electric overhead cables, a bit like a tram, took over. Moving by means of a 8045m long, 96 tonne chain laid at the bottom of the canal and anchored on each end. The barge can tow up to 30 boats at a speed of 2.5km per hour and time to go through the tunnel was reduced to just over two hours.

Positioned on top of the tunnel and outside the tourist office, one of the ‘toueur’ barges has been converted into a museum. Two others are still operating on the canal and have been for over a century. We missed one going the day we arrived and there were no boats due the following day, so you need to pick your time.

Another piece of significant history took part here. In 1916, after two years of war on the Somme, the Germans set up the Hindenburg line, their last line of defence on the Western Front, linking Lens in Pas-de-Calais to Fere south of Saint Quentin. The Riqueval tunnel was occupied by 34 barges and sealed at both ends making it one of the safest German shelters. This fortress which they presumed was impregnable was taken by the Allies on 29th September 1918. The Australian, British and American forces broke through the Hindenburg line in an action which helped end the war. The armistice was signed five weeks later.

We had passed signs for an Australian war cemetery on our way to the parking, but it was too far to walk back to. Under heavy skies we walked to the British war cemetery in Bellicourt village and paid our respects.

The following morning it was time to hit the road again. Jay drove us over to the nearby American miliary cemetery which was built among the fields where 1844 American soldiers lost their lives conducting repeated assaults on the Hindenburg line. We were struck by the sheer size and weight of the metal doors around the cemetery, after the relatively understated nature of the British cemetery yesterday.

I struggled to get the gate to open, wondering how more elderly visitors would get in. The door to the tall chapel was even heavier. Inside American flags and eagles were the main theme, along with the names of 333 soldiers whose remains where never found. There was a massive flagpole towering above the graves and the grass was neater than a golf putting green.

I did feel a bit like we shouldn’t be there as there was a security guardian stood in the grounds, who had probably come from the nearby booth next to one of the entrances. The rows upon rows of shining marble graves would make you think they were only killed a few years ago, not over century. Three of the crosses had golden writing, indicating they were occupied by those awarded the Medal of Honor for amazing acts of bravery.

Back in Zagan I took over the wheel for the drive up to Calais. Starting on narrow lanes wasn’t great for my confidence. Turning onto a main single carriageway road a huge lorry thundered towards me on the opposite side of the road. I tried to get as far across as I could then – BANG! Luckily it was only a wheelie bin, which caused no damage and even remained standing, but it sent my stress levels sky high. Shaking, I forced myself to get back behind the wheel and finish the job, which I did.

We arrived at the new Camping Car Park in Calais knowing we’d be able to use the free buses to get around the place, so Jay needn’t walk too far. Having stayed in Calais for a few days on our last trip, we know the area so don’t need to bother about sightseeing.

Now we are here Jay can rest up for a couple of days. On Saturday it’s a very short drive to the ferry terminal, and then another short hop over to Canterbury Park and Ride for Saturday night. We plan to drive back to Nottingham on Sunday when hopefully the roads will be a bit quieter.

We didn’t have any plans when we set off on this trip (we rarely do). Heading south to the Alps and Provence was a great choice as we both thoroughly enjoyed being back there. Even though the weather was a touch too warm for us down south, it was worth it.

Our trouser legs and sleeves have got longer as we’ve headed north and the air has cooled. In Ballicourt we heard the first rain since in ages, and last night I slept under the duvet for the first time in weeks. I expect we’ll need the fire on when we get home.

Ju x