A Motorhome tour down to Croatia and back

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Croatia or bust 2025

Tuesday 2^nd September day one Week one

Starting mileage 25035       Mileage on arrival  25210          Journey distance 175 miles

Departed 0935    Arrived Port Solent 1530

 

All packed up and rolling out of the storage site by 09:35 - a record for us. It felt a bit like catching a rare alignment of the planets: everything clicked, nothing was forgotten, and we were on the road before the day had a chance to argue about it.

First stop: Halden Hill for coffee and bacon rolls - one normal, one veggie - thanks to Costa’s breakfast deal. Then came that slip lane. You know the one: the short, nerve-jangling stretch that spits you back onto the downhill section.  Vehicles charge up the hill with barely a glance, and there’s precious little time to accelerate to warp speed before one of them ends up using the back of you as a braking cushion.

Our first Ice cream in Germany!

We made a quick detour to Bridport Morrisons, though parking a large motorhome there now feels a bit like playing the lottery. They’ve stopped allowing parking along the long side stretch of the car park, so finding space is hit-and-miss at best. Today, the stars were aligned again - we were lucky. I’d hoped to stop at the café/toilets at Eype beforehand, but that place has been mysteriously closed for weeks. No explanation, just a sign and my loud sigh.

Then came the nightmare: diversions due to the A35 closure at Bridport. “Diversion” barely covers it. We were shepherded onto winding B-roads, forced into a scenic but unwanted tour of the countryside before finally weaving through Dorchester to rejoin the A35. Add forty minutes to the journey  - just for fun, apparently.

When we finally arrived at Port Solent, our welcome committee was… dog poo. Maggie stepped straight into a pile carefully (or rather carelessly) deposited by the inconsiderate motorhome owners next door, the ones with the little yappy dogs. Ugh. Not the grand beginning to a road trip. I can only hope it wasn’t some ominous sign from the travel gods. Gulp.

Thankfully, the tide turned. A comforting Harvester meal, and - would you believe it - Tuesday is discount chicken day. Our luck claws its way back. We unwind with the newspaper and, in a rare triumph, manage to solve The Times crossword completely. Now it really feels like fortune is tilting in our favour again.

Checked in and through to the ferry terminal by 21:00. We found ourselves parked next to a stunningly restored early-run Citroën 2CV - a real survivor. Its owner, who has restored six of them, was towing this beauty to a customer in France. Every Frenchman over 60 in the queue seemed magnetically drawn to it, and soon the air was buzzing with animated Gallic discussion. On the other side of us: Rileys, Avros, Austins, old Porsches - turns out we’d stumbled into the middle of a classic-car rally. If you’re going to wait for boarding, you might as well do it surrounded by mechanical royalty. Outstanding.

Costs: Fuel £50.

Wednesday 3^rd September day two – week one

The ferry crossing was a lively one, 47-knot gusts, 20-knot winds, and the kind of seas my nautical friends politely call “lumpy.” I took a seasickness tablet, which promptly knocked me out, so I slept through most of the rough stuff… except for those midnight trips to the loo, where the whole cabin felt like it was riding a mechanical bull.

We rolled off the ferry and made our usual stop at Mondeville Carrefour on the outskirts of Caen. A quick stock-up though, the fridge wasn’t cooling properly on gas, so we chose food with survivalist precision—nothing too delicate for the next few days.

The journey down the A6/A13 was uneventful, the kind of smooth sailing you silently thank the universe for after a stormy crossing. I have to say, the new free-flow tolls are a revelation - no booths, no queues, just overhead gantries and the expectation that you will handle the payments online or have a tag.

The route into Huttopia Versailles went well… until it didn’t. We glided through the suburbs nicely, only to find our final turning closed for “market day.” Cue an unexpected detour through narrow residential roads lined with parked cars - a real “hold your breath and hope you fit” situation. At 7.8 metres long, we were just short enough to wiggle around the tight, right-angled corners. Any longer and we’d still be there, three-point-turning ourselves into a local spectacle.

Reception greeted us warmly and quickly directed us to our pitch: a “comfort pitch,” which means more space, EHU, and a picnic table - the only spot left big enough for us, so no real choice. It sloped badly, was gravelly, and dotted with tree roots from the oak trees above. And windy too, with acorns raining down on our heads and solar panels - nature’s own percussion section. I’m wincing even as I type this.

Fantastic location, great facilities, rough pitch!

Below our motorhome were gravel gullies - clear evidence of water funnelling through during rain. Not ideal. I managed to position the wheels either side of them and get Bryony up on blocks, but she still wasn’t level. We’ve stayed on worse sites, but at 50 euros per night, it’s far from good value in terms of pitch comfort. Still, you’re paying for location: a five-minute walk to the bus, fifteen to the train station, thirty minutes by bus to the Palace of Versailles, and a direct line into Paris. The small Carrefour minimart is an easy ten-minute stroll away. Convenience at a premium.

As long as it doesn't rain - we will be foine - I think!

Facilities were clean and the showers good - though definitely not enough toilets. But now we must discuss… the horror. The motorhome service point. Brace yourself.

There are only two freshwater hoses for the entire site, and both are positioned right beside the most basic of open elsan disposal points. I’m sure you can already see the problem. And yes, people use the same hoses to fill their fresh tanks and to rinse out their toilet cassettes. I rest my case. For context, I’ve travelled extensively across Africa and parts of Asia, stayed at more than a few questionable campsites in my youth during expeditions, and my risk aversion level is generally very low. But this? A freshwater hose sharing space with an elsan dump? Even I draw the line there. Absolutely gross. Enough said.

On the more charming side of the campsite, there are active beehives tucked behind facilities block one - fascinating to watch from a respectful distance.

A lovely little touch - along with a great composting/recycling area as well 

After 20 minutes of manoeuvring and experimenting with wheel positions, we finally set up. Then we wandered to the small local shopping street to locate tomorrow’s bus stop before retreating back to Bryony. After being jolted awake at 5:30am British time and a poor night’s sleep on the ferry, we were running on fumes.

So, we collapsed into an afternoon snooze, drifting in and out beneath a whispering canopy of oak trees, dappled sunlight playing across the pitch. Half-asleep, I suddenly dashed out to lift the electric cable off the ground by looping it over the picnic bench - good timing, as the rain arrived moments later. Now we’ll see exactly where that water flows. You can take the geographer out of the classroom, but you can’t take the geography out of the retired geography teacher, if you catch my drift.

Costs today: 2 × 50 euros campsite fees.

 

Thursday 4^th September: Day three – week one

A visit to Versailles

We catch the 08:45 bus just down the road - a gentle five-minute stroll from the campsite - to begin our Versailles adventure. Route 6202 hums us through the suburbs, and thirty minutes later we step off the bus right across from the tourist office. A quick wander around the back reveals an elegant, old-fashioned bistro, the sort of place where time seems to linger over the tables. They serve a smooth, rich café crème… and really, it would be almost impolite not to stop. So, we do.

Can't beat a good french bistro can you? 

A ten-minute walk carries us towards the lower outer courtyard of the Château de Versailles, and suddenly - there it is.

Oh my.
Versailles doesn’t merely appear; it unfurls. A golden crown resting on the horizon. All that gilding along the rooftops catching the morning light, the sheer monumental scale of it - an architectural exhale of power and splendour. We just stand there, a little stunned.

With no queue in sight, an attendant kindly waves us through thirty minutes early. The security setup is slightly chaotic - one lone airport-style scanner trying heroically to deal with everyone—but we’re through soon enough, audio guides in hand.

The splendour of the Palais Versailles

Inside, Versailles is impressive in a way that defies neat description. It’s almost like stepping into a grand, living illusion - a place where history, art, ego, and extravagance collide in slow motion. We decide to rank it just beneath the Great Palace in Beijing, which has long been our benchmark for imperial magnificence.

We lose an entire morning drifting through ornate chambers and echoing corridors, each room a chapter in the novel of French royalty. Then we lose a few more hours wandering the sprawling gardens - manicured, sculpted, serene. The kings of France truly understood theatrics in architecture and horticulture. Strolling here feels like stepping into a dream that refuses to fade even when you blink.

Thinkling about redecorating the lounge ceiling! 

The Hall of Mirrors lives up to its legend: crystal chandeliers scattering light like handfuls of diamonds tossed carelessly into the air; parquet floors gleaming like still water. The gardens reveal quiet corners where history seems to whisper - assignations, intrigues, whispers of ambition carried on the breeze. If you let yourself forget the crowds, stand still and close your eyes, Versailles becomes a theatre of centuries, where beauty and power still take centre stage.

The Hall of Mirrors

From its humble beginnings as Louis XIII’s hunting lodge in 1624, Versailles blossomed into a symbol of royal might thanks to Louis XIV, who began its monumental transformation in 1661. With André Le Nôtre’s elegant gardens unfurling like green silk ribbons, Versailles became not just a palace but the beating political heart of France. It later bore witness to seismic moments in history, including the signing of the Treaty of Versailles in 1919 - don’t miss the room where these historic events are projected onto the walls; it’s mesmerising. And although it ceased being a royal residence after the Revolution, it remains a UNESCO World Heritage site and one of the world’s most enduring symbols of opulence.

Some of the women who have slept in that bedroom!

We loved every minute of it - a truly magical start to our trip.

Back at the campsite, our step counters tell us we’ve walked nearly eight miles, most of it on palace grounds. Tomorrow, we leave on the first of three long driving days as we begin the journey towards Lake Bled. I’ve topped up the water tank, emptied the cassette, and packed away the miscellaneous campsite paraphernalia, ready for a 07:15 departure.

The real challenge will be navigating our way out of Huttopia Versailles in the morning  - those narrow residential roads again - before tackling the A86 in rush hour. From there it’s the A4 across to Metz, then the A35 toward the German border and Karlsruhe. Somewhere along that stretch will be tomorrow’s overnight stop. Wish us luck, truly!

Was Versailles worth the detour? Absolutely.
And I have to admit, Huttopia Versailles has grown on me. The location alone makes it a perfect base for exploring the city.

PS: I’ve just checked the emails - our “Bip and Go” tag fees for yesterday’s run along the A13 came to 26 euros. Worth every centime for the convenience.

Costs today: Versailles: 40 euros each; tolls: 26 euros.

 

The grounds are stunning

A Royal Boudoir

Some stunning ceiling artwork

Friday 5^th September: Day four – week one

Mileage at start of day: 25365

We didn’t slide sideways in the night, and Bryony survived the rain without turning into a small boat - success! Up bright and early at 07:15, we were on our way. The route out of Huttopia Versailles to join the A86 was straightforward and stress-free, which is yet another reason I’m giving the campsite a big gold star for location.

Then came the A86 through the southern suburbs of Paris at rush hour. Enlightening, indeed - mostly in the “this is terrifying” sense. The sunrise was directly in our eyes, a golden spotlight challenge. Bryony has a quirk: when you lower her sun visors, the view ahead is nearly obliterated due to her high cab seats. So, there we were, trying to decipher tiny red route numbers on overhead motorway gantries, squinting through the glare, while weaving traffic performed its usual Parisian ballet. Let’s just say, the first hour was… character-building.

Navigating Parisian rush hour is both an art and a test of patience, nerves, and occasional inner peace. Vehicles weave like dancers in a frantic tango, accelerating and braking for no apparent reason. Assertive calm is required - panic simply won’t cut it. Having a brilliant navigator alongside is essential; Maggie is the best map-reader I know, able to pierce the route-finding chaos like a chilled-out Zen master reading tea leaves. Actually, that might make a great bumper sticker for Bryony – need to think it through a little more!

Once we escaped the suburbs and joined the A4 proper, a sense of relief washed over us. Driving the outer ring roads of Paris is truly a rite of passage - part terror, part focus, part urban survival instinct, and part meditation.

After that little initiation, it was plain sailing - or rather, plain driving. We stuck to the A4 all the way to near Strasbourg, then veered onto the A35 northwards towards Karlsruhe.

Now, I’m sitting across Bryony’s side bench, gazing out over a serene lake and a scattering of motorhomes. We’ve parked on a Camping-car site at Seltz, almost full. Lucky us, we snagged one of the last slots. The afternoon’s torrential rain caused minor flooding, putting two pitches out of commission - apparently a first this season. Services are basic: electric hook-up, no facilities, but for 11 euros a night, you really can’t complain. Bonus: a bistro/café is right outside the gate, perfect for a late evening treat.

We arrived at 15:30, so the total journey with stops took about eight hours. For long drives like this, we follow a simple routine: drive two hours, pause for coffee and a leg stretch; drive another two hours, then a slightly longer stop; repeat. Nothing revolutionary, but it keeps both driver and navigator relatively sane - and I can report we arrived calm, unscathed, and semi-rested.

Tomorrow, we cross the mighty Rhine, join the A5 to Karlsruhe, then pick up the A8 heading toward Salzburg. Somewhere along the route, we need to collect a Go toll box for our Austrian leg to Lake Bled. The forecast there looks heavenly: sunny, clear skies, and perfectly warm - just the sort of setting that makes all these long hours worthwhile.

According to the warden - it was the first time the site had ever flooded in her memory

Meanwhile, I’m sitting here enjoying the late arrivals. Honestly, I think someone should make a Sir David Attenborough-style documentary on the “behaviours and habits of motorhomers by nationality.” Fascinating stuff. Right now, I’m holding my breath as the last unflooded space next to us is being claimed by a gigantic 8m+ German motorhome, the driver performing what can only be described as a masterclass in slow-motion reverse parking. I’m silently grateful for our petite Bryony - tiny, nimble, and blissfully unchallenged by these parking dramas.

Costs today: Fuel €90 (Plymouth to here on one tank of diesel—not bad at all)
Campsite fees €11

 

Saturday 6^th September: Day five – week one

OMG. What a nightmare day this has been. It was supposed to be simple – out of the campsite, back onto the A35 south for a few miles, cross over the Rhine, up the A5 and then along the A8 all the way.

The first part up to Karlsruhr was fine. After that a nightmare along the A8. Road works, traffic jams, crawling along at less than 30 miles an hour. Every single service station rammed with lorries all parked up. So, no spaces available at many for a motorhome. We didn’t know that on Saturday lorry drivers across Germany park up. We didn’t know that they are not allowed to drive on a Sunday!  And then everyone trying to be on the road at the same time.  A 7-hour journey tops turned into nine and a half.  At least we managed to get a ‘Go’ box tag for Austria from one of the service stations on the way.  And then, the nightmare worsened. In reaching down for the handbrake, I managed to wrench my back badly. I couldn’t straighten up. It was soooo painful. I could just about drive but getting into and out of the seat – so painful. 

Our overnight destination was close to Salzburg. I called it at Rosenheim. I couldn’t go on any further. Our first park up was off the A8 a few miles near a lake just on the outskirts of Kaltmuhl. A review on S4S recommended it. And it was lovely; a car park behind an old restaurant next to a lake where many people were enjoying recreational activities. We had an ice cream, watched families enjoying themselves and tried to relax after a fraught day.

Germans really are outdoor people 

But as the car parks emptied, we began to feel a little lonely and isolated. You know how you get that gut feeling that something isn’t right? We always promised ourselves if one of us had a bad feeling about a place we would move on. We both felt uneasy and so at 2000 hours we moved twenty minutes along the A8 to a car park at the back of a fire station by a sports club at the heart of a lovely village five minutes off the A8, called Neubeuern. Three other vans joined us. The car park was big, well lit, spacious, quiet and we had a pleasant sleep. We wouldn’t have slept well at the other place.

Let’s talk tolls for a minute. Bryony is a big lass in weight if not breath and length.  We up-plated her so she is >3.5T.  The positives – we don’t exceed the rear axle weight limit any more; we have significantly more payload should we desire it (although we normally weigh in all loaded and fuelled up at around 3.8T. The downsides – slightly reduced fuel economy and an increase in tolls paid on motorways.

We use Bip and Go for Italy, France, Spain and Portugal and recommend it without reservation. Simple app and good accounting on their part. For Germany, there were no tolls. For Austria and Slovenia we had to collect from a service station a toll box to affix to the windscreen. We registered on line at DarsGo and ASFiNAG, uploaded our V5 documents to prove our Euro engine and Co2 emissions categories and then received an email with a barcode document to take to a service station. The tags work in the same way – you preload them with Euros and set the number of axles of your vehicle.  The Go tag was free but the Austrian one required a 10 euro deposit. Both have to be returned at the end of the trip although at the moment I’m a littler hazy on the specifics of that.  I’ll update this post when I know more

Costs: 89 euros for fuel

 

Sunday7^th September: Day six – week one

Mileage at start: 25970     Mileage at end: 26156    Distance covered: 186  miles

Distance since Plymouth : 1121 miles

The church bells woke me at 5am. We were away by 0715. And after yesterday, it was such an easy run down through Austria. Stunning scenery, easy to get into service stops. Lots of long tunnels, some over 5 miles in length. Great fun. A8, the A10, A11 down to Slovenia.

Just over the border, at the first service station, we collected the DarsGo tag and it promptly worked. We were in Camp Bled by 1245. Nice site, tight turns into pitches. We strike lucky with one at the end of a row – plenty of space to it; had to reverse up the access road to it though. Only way to get Bryony into the space.  

bit of a squeeze down the connecting road but the pitch was lovely, level and spacious

Level pitch on coarse gravel. Surrounded by trees on one side, open skies on the other. We are packed in but it’s a short walk to the lake. The camp has a ‘centre-parcs’ vibe to it.  Big British contingent as a motorhomes tour is stopping here for a few nights. Clearly a popular holiday destination and understandably so.

We are set up by 1400 and have been for a stroll as well. We spend the rest of the afternoon chilling and then grab a bite to eat at the camp restaurant. As I type up this post, Maggie is catching up on the guide books. We need to plan how we spend the next month down here in Slovenia and Croatia – surprisingly we haven’t done that yet!!

Costs: fuel 79 euros. DarsGo box 10 euro deposit and then 30 euro top up

 

Monday 8th September: Day seven – week one

A Morning Stroll Around Lake Bled is a journey into Fairy Tale Serenity

This morning, we took a leisurely walk into Bled, the kind of walk that feels like stepping into the pages of a fairytale. We wandered along the left-hand side of the lake, following a charming, well-worn path that guides both cyclists and walkers alike through some of the most picturesque scenery you could imagine. As we walked, the ethereal image of the island church on Bled Island appeared before us, its steeple rising like a delicate tower in a dream or a children’s folk tale. All rather Disney film like.

Looking down the lake towards Bled

The island and its church 

The path we followed was paved and easy to navigate, yet every step felt like we were walking through an old painting. Lake Bled is one of those rare places where nature and legend intertwine in perfect harmony. The crystal-clear waters of the lake, mirror the towering Julian Alps in its depths. Bled Island, crowned by its iconic church, seems suspended between the present and the past, a beacon of history and beauty.

Couples strolled hand in hand along the 6-kilometer stretch, their path framed by a lush, green tapestry of wildflowers and dense woodland. Every corner of the lake offers a new, breathtaking vista, as if nature itself is unfolding a story just for us. The tranquil sound of water gently lapping at the shore mixes with the faint, melodious toll of distant church bells, creating an atmosphere that feels almost enchanted - one where time slows down and the world outside fades away.

Swans glide serenely through the water, their movements graceful. Along the shore, cozy cafés beckon, tempting us to pause and indulge in a slice of the world-famous Bled cream cake. We didn’t by the way but I’m pretty sure that if we had, we’d have found that it's not just any old cake; it's probably a moment of indulgence, a sweet reflection of the gentle luxury that defines this place. Every step, every breath, was infused with serenity and beauty. It’s not just a walk around a lake; it’s almost a journey into the heart of a living fairy tale.

We made a brief stop at the tourist information centre to pick up a map of the many cycling routes in the area. The options are endless, perfect for exploring this stunning corner of Slovenia. We treated ourselves to a coffee by the lake, soaking in the view one last time before heading back. As we strolled, we admired the rowing teams cutting through the still waters, their synchronized strokes reminding us that this is a place where dedication and beauty go hand in hand. The Olympic rowing base is a testament to Slovenia’s proud legacy in the sport—after all, this country has earned its fair share of medals.

Its a steep walk up to the castle 

The walk had done wonders for my back, too, though I must admit, I ‘passed’ on the walk up to the castle that overlooks the lake. The steep paths leading up to it are a test for the adventurous, and the fit - offering both exercise and incredible views of the lake below. By the way, it's about a 40-minute walk from the campsite around to Bled town. 

As evening falls, we find ourselves recuperating from our afternoon short cycle to the entrance of Vintgar Gorge. Tomorrow, we plan to return to hike through the gorge itself, but for today, the ride has been enough. We cycled through tranquil back roads, winding through high pastures and picturesque farming villages. The alpine houses, with their charming, rustic facades, are the stuff of postcards - complete with stacks of firewood piled high in preparation for the long winter months ahead. The ride took us 35 minutes uphill, and thank goodness for our E-bikes! The turbo mode was a lifesaver on the steeper inclines—there’s nothing quite like a little boost of power when you’re pushing your limits. The return trip, naturally, was much faster—whipping down the hills in a joyful breeze.

As the day winds down, we find ourselves reflecting on what’s next. After our time at Lake Bled, we’ll make our way to Piran, a stunning coastal town where the Adriatic’s blue waters kiss the shore. From there, it’s on to Pula, with its ancient Roman ruins and seaside charm. But before all that, there’s tomorrow - Vintgar Gorge awaits, and Thursday will bring us to the mesmerizing Postojna Caves and the imposing Predjama Castle.

In the meantime, we’re enjoying the little pleasures of life here: today’s coffee by the lake, a meal at the campsite’s restaurant, and the quiet moments of peace that only a place like Lake Bled can offer.