48 cold hours in northern France
29th November – 1st December 2019
After disembarking from the ferry in Calais, we needed a quick readjust to figure out how to drive the motorhome on the other side of the road! And also, a brief stop to decide where we were headed next; we had planned to do that on the ferry but there was no WiFi … no WiFi?! We realised at this point that virtually all campsites were shut for the winter, but we managed to find one which could potentially be open, so off we went to the tiny village of Esquelbecq, close to the border with Belgium.
We arrived at Camping Le Groeneveld (green world) campsite ten minutes before it was due to close for the evening, only to discover the whole place deserted. Luckily our banging on the door alerted somebody upstairs who took pity on us and let us park up! We stayed here for two nights. It was really, really cold. We paid €20 per night, including EHU, but with no access to the bathrooms and showers because they had been closed for the winter and the owner was worried that running the water would cause the pipes to burst!
campinglegroeneveld.com 51.24207981860075, 2.3082891006234014
This village and nearby villages appeared mostly shut down for the winter. We found one pizza place which was an extension added onto the side of a family home – whew. The kind man there made us three large pizzas and, for those and a bottle of wine, we paid €27… we ate like kings!
Esquelbecq is infamous for the slaughter of 80 allied soldiers in a shed, who had surrendered to the SS near Dunkirk in May 1940. Here’s a link to an 8-minute item about this on YouTube about the Wormhout Massacre:
That night, we snuggled up together and watched some documentaries in the van about the two World Wars and we saw how profoundly this small area was affected by both wars. Over the coming days, after resting up to recover from our journey, we would see evidence of how the wars impacted on this region.
1st December 2019: Dunkirk
After resting in our van to recover from our journey to France – Caitríona slept through most of Saturday! – we took a trip on Sunday 1st December to Dunkirk, and from there to Ypres/Ieper, Belgium.
Saul: On the beach of Dunkirk in 1940, my great-grandfather was waiting on the mole with his brother (for those familiar with the recent movie) to escape by boat. They were at the front of the queue when the boat was declared full. Disappointed, they watched it depart, only for a German bomber to blow up the boat, killing all onboard. Later my great-grandfather was shot, but made it home. My Scottish grand-uncle was also on that beach and found alive by nuns checking those left for dead after a German shell almost did for him. He lived for another 42 years until, during a holiday trip to see my family in Aberystwyth, one of the many pieces of shrapnel finally found its mark and pierced his heart.
Some pictures from that desolate beach:
Despite the sunshine, it was bitterly cold and the winds were fierce. That’s the North Sea behind Morgan and Olwen:
There wasn’t much else to do in Dunkirk on a wintery Sunday afternoon, so we hopped back into the van. It took us a good while to warm up again! Then we headed to cross over the Belgian border.