Motoring A Holiday Cruise Abroad IT is time to go.
For three weary years and more we have shown such patience as only the natives of these islands possess ; and, partly because we were told that it was unpatriotic, partly because of our shrunken incomes, have kept ourselves and our cars as strictly within the little limits of Great Britain as if there had been a general war raging between Calais and Bucarest, as if the geographical, but in other respects unimportant, fact that we live on an island made of us a people apart. Now we arc crossing the sea in our thousands, just as we used to do when the world was what some of us still call sane, and following the great roads on which most of the history of the world was written. There is no consistency in it. We said we could not take the car to the Riviera or to Florence or to the Loire because it cost too much and because " things were so unsettled." That was when you got 124 francs for a sovereign and an equivalent number of lire, marks and Swiss francs ; before Govern- ments fell, monarchies came to an end. and Dictators rose in noisy splendour. Today the sovereign is worth about twelve shillings outside England, the papers print pic- turesque accounts of bomb-throwing in opera-houses, of the blowing-up of railways, of the awesome meetings of Leaders, of the hopes of exiled kings—and we smile and .ask the Royal Automobile Club to book us passages by the next boat to the Hook or Havre.
It is inconsistent and perfectly in character. In our heart of hearts we pay very little attention to these purple stories. They may be true in substance, but that remarkable kink in the English character effectively prevents us from taking anything seriously. Even with an undisputed photograph of a shattered viaduct or opera-foyer before us, with the tremendous words of this or that Father-in-Law of his country ringing in our ears from the radio-set, with the chorus of the League of Nations behaving in the most approved Greek and de- pressing manner, with Our Special Correspondent at his most accurately vivid, we know, as we know the sun will rise tomorrow, that these things do not affect Us when we take our car into the middle of them. All we know, suddenly and for no reason at all, is that this seclusion in our own island has become ridiculous and must now cease. We dismiss the special telegrams from our memories as bed-time stories and apply for the car's passport.
And, as usual, we are perfectly right. The Continent has probably more British cars on its roads this month than it has ever had before, and from my own very recent experience I am convinced that never before have they been so welcome or so welcomed. The " G-B " plaques, with a good many " D's ". and " I's " and C-H's " and m en " Vs," _those stay-at-homes drive placidly to and fro, across frontiers and back again, and everywhere everybody is pleased to see them.
There are several reasons why you should take your car abroad just In the first place, the roads almost everywhere you can drive are incredibly good. On a tour of over three thousand miles in five countries I can only remember at most half a day's rough going. Some of the modern ones, apart, of course, from the autostrada of Italy, are sheer perfection, :You-can average 45 miles an hour as easily in the Salzkammergut as between Paris and &intim; a 'stage of some-260 kilometres which, I was assured by the shrewd child who loaded my luggage, could be covered in three hours and ten minutes—ten or perhaps fifteen. It takes longer than that, ' but you see the general idea. Distance is in process of annihilation on the Continent and all our old there time-tables are out of date. _" ; Then the the Superb peace. Laker in the year the visiting cars, the " G-B's " the F's !' ..the " D's " and the rest will be many more and will be joined by at least as many local numbers. • It is, of course, better to go wandering over Europe in August than not at all, but it is far better to go now, before' general holiday time. Last month it was ideal. From east to west, through favourite resorts as well as through forgotten corners the roads lay empty, the little towns where it would obviously be pleasant to stay awhile still dozed in peace before the strenuous business of making serious money should begin. You are not only welcome as the English motorist has never been welcome before, but specially acceptable just now as a heaven-sent customer. In that position you can as a rule make yourself remark. ably comfortable. For you is naturally reserved the best room—with bath—overlooking lake, river, sea or valley, out of earshot of lifts and garages ; for you the kitchen makes special unsolicited efforts. It is all very agreeable.
It is time to go. The maps must be bought, the car made ready. Then you cross the sea and, with a large small-scale map on your knee and, it goes without saying, a detestable French cigarette in your mouth, you plan raids upon kingdoms and republics. Shall it be Switzer- land to start with ? Switzerland will be singularly pleased to see you just now and you can take the road to the nearest Alps in good heart, certain that all manner of pleasant things await you at their foot. To get there by the shortest way you must first cross France, and here it is useful to give a warning. France is not cheap or, if you like it the other way, the pound is. Petrol, at 12 francs a gallon is dear even to the French. Food and lodging cost a good many francs more, oddly enough, outside Paris than elsewhere—more, at any rate, if you take quality into consideration. You cannot bargain about the price of luncheons and dinners but you will be well advised to get a quotation for bedrooms before un- loading luggage. At Abbeville, a small town of no importance, I was offered a dark and funereal bedroom, hung with frowsy drapery, overlooking a courtyard and supplemented with an afterthought bathroom—as unlike the average French room as can well be imagined. The price was fifty francs. I declined it, allowing myself to remark that I had already left the Champs Elysees some ' 100 or more miles behind. As I crosSed the yard to the car the proprietor, from his office-window, said I could have it for forty. His wife, from an adjoining window, swiftly added—" On condition that you do not have a bath."
And so you come to Neuchatel and Bern and must make up your mind which mountains you will climb first. For, it is only fair to tell you, if you have not been there before, that real motoring in Switzerland is mountaineering and nothing else. Where the road is flat there are far too many houses, either single, in groups, or in masses. The answer is obvious. You will go irst to Lucerne and then to Schwyz and then turn south to Altdorf, along the road that brings you, under the evening shadow of the Susterhorn, to Andermatt, the Furka Pass and the Grimsel Pass. In the angle of these two you will find the Rhone glacier ; on your right will be the Finsteraarhorn and beyond it the Jungfrau. Your journey will not have been in vain if you see these against a blue sky. If you go on up the valley you come to Interlaken and either Bern or Lausanne. If you turn about and go down to the valley of the Rhone you come to the foot of the greatest pass of them all, the Simplon. Climb it, while you have the chance. The Italian frontier is far down the other side and all the best of that gorgeous place is in Switzer. land.
But that is only Switzerland, a very small piece of Europe. Look again at that map and take thought for tomorrow. Eastward lie 'the Italian Lakes and all the rich plain of Lombardy, Milan, Padua, Venice. It is very pleasant in Venice just now. So it is in Florence and Naples. And all the way you have great roads for your comfort and amusement, roads that do not in the least resemble their axle-breaking ancestors of pre-War days. Petrol is as dear as it is in France, but everything else is cheap. Do not be in a hurry to leave Italy unless it is to go up the Brenner Pass to Innsbruck and Salzburg, and after these to Munich, Augsburg, and the Black Forest, • not forgetting to turn off to Ratisbon. Not forgetting to turn off anywhere. That is the whole secret of your holiday cruise among the nations. Turn off. The great places of Europe do not lie on a set route. You must look for them north, south, east and west, and in that search you will find singular content. It is time to go.
JOHN PRIOLEAU.
Previous page
