When we drove back down the long hill to leave Brighton, we headed for Chichester, stopping on the way at Arundel Castle. This site had great motorhome parking in a large field.
And the castle was impressive, too. It was and is still the home of the Dukes of Norfolk, one of them a friend of Thomas More, another a victim of Elizabeth I. We drove on to Chichester to a sparkling little campground west of the city. In the morning we took a bus toward the town, first stopping at the Roman Palace excavations. We weren’t expecting much but were surprised by the impressive layouts of mosaic floors that hadn’t been uncovered until the l960s. Afterwards we walked into the city, visited the cathedral, and bused back to the campground.
Buses are very expensive. If we weren’t so doubtful about finding parking for Rover in the city centers, it would be cheaper to drive, even with gas at $8 a gallon. We regularly pay $5-6 apiece for a day return ticket. “Pensioners” in England (aged approximately 60+) can ride buses for free, so we see many of them. And since most people at campgrounds are retired, many of them also use the buses regularly.
From Chichester we went to Portsmouth and again gook a bus to the city center, this time to visit the Royal Navy yards. We declined to pay $32 each for a ticket valid for a year to visit everything (our only choice available), so instead we walked around viewing the ships from the docks, including Lord Nelson’s “Victory,” a massive and impressive sight.
Then we found Charles Dickens’ birthplace in a remarkably unchanged home. The campground in Portsmouth was a bit scruffy, but only a dike away from the ocean.
Winchester gets the “Motorhome Friendly” award. The town’s visitor flyer we had picked up pointed out a designated “Park and Ride” with motorhome access just off the highway: a simple exit and two right turns (keeping left), and we were parked and on our way on a free bus. When we left a couple of hours later, it was just about as simple to retrace our steps to get on our way to Salisbury. Winchester cathedral has a great story about being saved by a diver. One corner of the cathedral was sinking into the bog, and when they dug down to try to shore it up, the hole kept filing with water. It took a diver 5 years to do the repair work and the corner still leans a bit. The cathedral is also where Jane Austin is buried, and they had a little extra exhibition about her in one of the transepts.
The campground at Salisbury was a big field, and since we asked for good wifi connection, we were kept close to the reception office on a fairly level pitch. Many others had major leveling challenges on the slopes. On Saturday, Salisbury’s markets were in full swing and the town was very busy. We bussed the short way to the town center, toured the cathedral, where one of the original copies of the Magna Carta is on display, and also stopped in at another of the National Trust properties, this one a Georgian private home.
We have joined the National Trust, which allows free admission to all its properties for a year. We have already recouped the cost. And we have also joined the English Heritage group that has similar properties. That one got us into the Old Sarum’s Norman castle ruins just above the campground.
Salisbury campground and cathedral, from Old Sarum
hilltop ruins. (Rover is fourth from the left.)
On Sunday we left, first heading north to Stonehenge. When we were here 40 years ago we walked around and sat on the stones; now everyone is kept at a distance on a path. Susan was disappointed that she couldn’t get a picture of Rover with Stonehenge in the background. Then we set out on our longest drive so far: 100+ miles to Exeter, where we had to find street parking without a map in order to visit their extraordinary cathedral, accompanied by the ringing of its bells the entire time we were in the city center. There was a funny display of plaster painted sheep on the cathedral lawn that was drawing a crowd.
(All of these city centers surprise us with how vibrant they are--so many people and so many stores open, even on a Sunday afternoon.)
And then the worst 9 miles yet. It’s one thing to have a bad 1/4 mile into a campground, but this was 9 miles of hedge-to-edge on what the authorities were pleased to call an “A” road, despite the presence of signs that said “Oncoming traffic in middle of road” . . . right next to the other signs informing you that said on-comers were free to do so at 50 mph. (We declined to match their speed--30 or 35 was good enough, much to the chagrin of the cars behind us.) We have planned a different way out, but feel sure it will entail more of the same . . . and because we are headed to Cornwall and Land’s End, we suspect that we will encounter even more in the future.