Tordedillas,Valladolid, Spain and Eymet in South Western France,en route home.

Tordesillas has been a stopping place over a good few years. Stays ranging from a week to a day – this time two days. Every time, the campsite seems to improve,though it’s best features, like the garden by the bar, remain the same. Not a big site and situated near the banks of the River Duero – Douro when it flows into Portugal – it has a good swimming pool, shop,restaurant and bar – that’s all you need for a good campsite,plus the weather of course.

The town is compact and the central part is of most interest,with its colonnades and bars.

It has a long history and a tragic tale or two.

The Treaty of Tordesillas signed at Tordesillas in Spain on June 7, 1494, and authenticated at Setúbal, Portugal, divided the newly discovered lands outside Europe between the Portuguese Empire and the Spanish  …

It was also the place where Queen Jane – Juana la Loca – who spent 46 years in a windowless cell here in the Monasterio. She had ruled Castile jointly with her husband,Felipe I,From 1504-06 But was devastated by his early death and for three years toured the monasteries of Spain,keeping the coffin permanently by her side,stopping from time to time to inspect the corpse. In 1509, she reached The Convent Santa Clara In Tordesillas, where first her father,Fernando and later her son,Carlos V declared her insane,imprisoning her for half a century and assuming the throne of Castile for themselves.

I’m sure we have experienced the time when we have revisited a place with good memories only to find it has changed – for any number of reasons – and felt disappointment and/or disillusionment. Hopefully that may never be the case with Tordesillas.

From there it was 700 km drive on semi deserted roads and Autovias across Spain and through the Landes region of South Western France, ending up in the South of the Dordogne,in one of the Bastide towns – fortified villages from the Middle Ages.

This particular town was Eymet, a chocolate box of a place, with its typical square,distinctive buildings and narrow streets. The only thing that ruined it was the loud,self assured English voices rasping out from every bar and restaurant – a third of the population are Ex-pats – such a shock after almost being totally without for nearly three weeks. Too pristine and too Anglicanism for my taste – a vintage,English tea room said it all.And so the next day,Sunday it was onwards and upwards towards Touraine in the Loire Valley.