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‘Queen of the Road’ Indie Luce might have covered four countries and 5,500 miles, but she’s still finding surprises everywhere she visits.
She recently met a patisserie chef who went on to become ‘Napoleon’, and don’t get her started on Brexit-weary restaurants.
After breaking the law in Portugal, the Newfoundland shared the latest update on her (not always) paw-fect road trip with Express..
"If there are 13,000 human steps in a days walk, is that 26,000 Newfi ones? Have a word with him, will you please?
In the credible human effort to keep me out of the heat, we did not totally escape it - it was certainly cooler than 39, but between 24 and 30. Dad kept looking at me and saying, “Well it’s nearly as hot in the UK!” Helpful!
Last time I mentioned about that Bridge thing that everybody makes a fuss of - The Cat Viaduct (meow) or something.
Pictured: "The Gorges du Tarn can only be described as steep."
We left there on a very hot day and proceeded up the Gorges du Tarn, which can only be described as steep and often referred to as the Grand Canyon of Europe. A very winding road goes narrower and narrower. I sit in the back of the black van and like the window open, but with the twist and turns it takes all of my sure footedness to not roll around. I’ve become adept at leaning into the bends a bit like a racing sidecar passenger.
We stopped at what we thought was a bit of an ace site, touching the river and close to a little village were we can eat later. I was not sure whether I should look out for the boys in blue as I jumped into the river this time round. It was full of kayakers and swimmers, and I was told not to head too close to the weir. The river was strong so my best strong strokes were in order!
Pictured: Mont Blanc or not, I'll shake my wet fur if I want to.
One of my favourite things to do after a swim is to shake all of the gallons of water trapped in my two layers of fur. The best part of doing the “Indie shake and botty twerk” is of course doing it near people. Newfoundlands have sassy asses (when they walk and it's called the Newfoundland roll). I transport a lot of water and disperse it everywhere in an optimised non-discriminatory fashion. I particularly like hearing the mums screaming, running away and the waiters glaring (I usually catch them out with a second or third shake).
We set up the van sceptical of the mozzie horde season, but running water seems not to be their favourite. We crossed the bridge and had a nice dinner before bed.
Pictured: Bungee jumping? Humans are daft.
The plan was the next day to find a really old medieval town with a nice hotel. We passed a few and carried on as we wanted to get some miles done (I hate those long drives). We passed through some amazing places in the Gorges du Tarn, stopping in the midday heat for many cooling down dips. Once I saw a man jump from a bridge with a big rubber band on his feet - bungee jumping it’s called, daft I call it. Humans are generally daft.
After lunch, we carried on. I have learned a new trick, sitting in between the two front seats I can see where we are heading. It must be funny for the oncoming drivers seeing a steering wheel on the wrong side with a Newfi in the front. Dad says this is dangerous, but we don’t drive fast and there are far fewer cars on the roads.
Pictured: Turns out the front seat is the best one in the van.
The journey was long - after five hours, we decided to pull off the main road (we avoid motorways) and find a campsite. We discovered this one well in the woods, stayed, then set off in the morning to the Alps, where the promise of not so hot days and cool nights was accepted. We drove through Puy, Lyon, Chambery to a great place called Annecy.
Well, stuff Annecy. Dad had been there loads of times. It was mobbed, no hotels, no campsite spaces and very unfriendly restaurant owners all saying, "No, closed 'til 18:00", even though the door was open and people eating. A girl could get a complex. I blame Brexit.
Pictured: You can always count on me for finding a quiet spot to dip my paws in.
This lake - or 'Lac' - was busy with tourists and locals. It was an extremely hot day, and the only bit of water for hundreds of miles and every bit of grass was taken, with nowhere to sit, although I could have made a bit of room with my morning constitutional... Head scratching was needed, but only after a swim with Sharon in the quieter end of the lake.
This lake was azure blue due to the minerals washed down from the mountains and warm, warm, warm. It took some serious bribery to entice me out. Plan B was invoked, head to Morzine where my dad used to have a chalet and camp by the lac at Montriond. We stopped, and got shopping at a Lidl!! Didn’t have those in Jersey, but stocked up with food goodies at tempting prices. We could not stay lakeside, as lots of places have installed low access bars over the entrances so vans with roof boxes cannot enter and to deter motor homes in these beautiful places.
Pictured: Lots of walks, lots of lakes, lots of green rolling fields, the Alps are a winner.
Plan C: Dad rung a friend to borrow his chalet nearby. We’re still here and why not? We thank Dad's friend and are most grateful.
"The Alps are beautiful in the summer - some say more so than in winter. Lots of walks, lots of lakes, lots of green rolling fields. A thought has just occurred: am I the most travelled Newf ever? Four countries, 10 weeks and 5,500 miles (not including these barking mad walks). I must be... Is that the Guinness Book of Records I hear calling woofing?
Pictured: Three bears at Col d'Ecrenaz.
Anyway, a couple of hours walk a day, swim is on the menu now. I have visited a place called Circ a Feu a Cheval (the horseshoe - it’s one way in and out so the wildlife is effectively trapped and protected there), which is a nature reserve. So whilst I could not go everywhere as I would have scared the Chamois, I did have great fun in the meadows and river.
I became a bit confused when Dad offered a drink from a deep granite trough. It was so cold and the fresh mountain water enticing so I jumped in. Why was everybody laughing? On the way back we had a coffee and water at a Cascade (waterfall to you and me), and got a wash without getting close - the noise of crashing water was very scary. On the way to Circ we went over a very famous cycling road, The Col de Joux Plane. From Morzine to Samoens there was another lake at the top, with the clearest view of Mont Blanc. Incredible day.
Pictured: Does it look like I have just taken a gondola up a mountain?
Almost every day we have had a mountain walk, some included a Newfi first, none of my Big Dog club mates would have experienced this... drum roll... a gondola ride to the top of a mountain. Wow, I nearly pooped myself, humans do this for recreation. In truth, Dad knows the area well - walks, cafés and bars - so we trusted him. We have had some epic mountain walks, bit like the bleeding steps in historic Portugal!
One day after a gondola to the top (different mountain), we set off pleasingly downhill. Should be a doddle... until you make a wrong turn! 13,000 human steps later - times two for me - and a 1,000 metre decent, I was not happy with him and he was in the doghouse for that night. I think I’ve lost weight though, John Hamilton!
Pictured: 26,000 steps? Are you kidding me Dad?
"We did another walk in Grande Terche up a logging track to the top of the mountain where there is a cross. He says at every corner, "It’s just around here now..." But then, an hour later...
If it seems like I'm ungrateful, I'm not. I'm just feeling knackered, as I’m nine years old now (63). We now plan walks, swims and sightseeing with a bit of distance and upward incline restraint. Dad was a bit sad as the last time he had walked this was with a dearly recently departed mate, which kinda underlined why were doing this trip in the first place.
The other not so big surprise was as Dad had lived here (in Morzine) for nearly 15 years, he knew people. We had a visit from a old school pal of his, Paul, who now lives just outside Geneva. They loved me and the lunchtime fun by the lake. It was hot, so I hid in a bush... much to the amusement of the diners. Paul Le Querre is a good ol’ Jersey boy (well, French now), and they were at school together at St. Helier Boys over 50 years ago, so lots of catching up.
Pictured: Dad and Paul, then and now.
He was a great patisserie chef in Jersey and left to do his national service and never returned. Paul loves dressing up as a Napoleon Corporal and does reenactments all over Europe, he obviously loves it and looks very smart. It was great to see them have a great day and catch up after all those years. It’s kinda ironic that his nickname at school was... you guessed it... Napoleon.
I have been to Evian, Yvoire and loads of high mountain lakes, and remote alpages. I've watched all sorts of activities: parapente, white-water rafting, canyoning, international mountain biking and more cyclists than I’ve ever seen.
Pictured: Another day, another gondola ride.
To all my big dog pals that swim in Jersey with all their swimming medals, I have not sent postcards of the places I’ve swam, but, Brittany, Biscay, Atlantic, Mediterranean, Andorra, Aude, Languedoc, Lakes Annecy, Montriond, Les Plagnes, Mine d’or, Dranse and a drinking trough in Circ. No medals, mind.
I am really so pleased they brought me on this trip. The promise of cooler climates has not totally materialised as it is in the 30s here, but I do get to get into the lakes without police harassment. I really enjoy the discoveries of finding new places. I call myself the Christopher Columbus of the furry kind now.
Pictured: Nice view in Yvoire.
The plans are being formed for a winter stay in either Javea, Spain or Lagos, Portugal, and the need to find a fixed home for the winter is getting closer. Well, as long as there is a pool, sea, food and walks, I can suffer the moderate winter south.
The next mountain treks will be in Switzerland... tick tock."
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