From Mallorca to the Netherlands by ferry to Barcelona and train across France
The ferry ride from Palma de Mallorca to Barcelona is much shorter than the one from Toulon to Alcudia. It leaves at the hospitable time of ten in the morning from the ferry port in the south of town. There are two bus lines, number 1 and number 4, which could bring you there from the city center at the Plaça d'Espanya. It is sunday morning and the buses supposedly run half hourly. The heat of the previous September days has subsided and it is pleasant to enjoy the fresh morning air. There is hardly anybody in the street when I walk to the bus stop.
In the estacion maritima in Palma de Mallorca
The panel announcing the bus times does not work properly. All I can figure out is that the next scheduled bus number 1, which stops right at the entrance to the ferry port, is not running. It annoys me that I already get nervous even though I have plenty of time. And there also is bus number 4, which stops in a parallel street above the stop of number 1, just a hundred meters of additional walk.
I walk into the reception area. It is not well sign-posted but eventually I find the ticket counter behind the door “do not enter”. I show my reservation and they print my boarding pass. Then I have almost two hours to kill until the ferry is scheduled to leave. There is a busy cafeteria. I have breakfast in the dazzling morning sunlight entering through the high window panels.
Pedestrian access to the ferry
Most of these ferries do not really cater for foot passengers. Getting on and off is usually waiting for security or gauntlet racing between the boarding trucks. This morning there are only few of us and few vehicles. There still is a line at the only elevator since people are unable to carry their roller cases up five flights of stairs. It’s better with a backpack but I arrive on the lowest passenger deck out of breath and sweaty.
Empty car deck of the ferry For the short daytime ride I have not booked a cabin. However, although there are so few passengers, the public areas are busy since they have closed off most of the amenities, probably to save cleaning and staff.
Dragonera and St. Elm from the ferry
It is a beautiful day. The sea is calm and the starboard decks offer a bright view of the southern Mallorcan coast line between Palma, St. Elm and the island of Dragonera. Then it is 5 hours of boredom. Different shades of blue between the sea and the sky. The groups at the tables around me try to somehow pass the time. I have only brought one book for this trip: Albert Vigoleis Thelen, Die Insel des abnehmenden Lichts (The Island of Second Sight). It is regarded as one of the big literary works of the 20th century. I guess the reason lies in its almost 1000 pages filled with writing in microscopic font. The style is outdated and cannot stand a comparison with his loathed contemporaries like Ranke Graves or Thomas Mann, to just name two of those many great authors of the interbellum.
Entering the port of Barcelona
The vast majority of visitors to Mallorca nowadays arrive by plane. Thelen’s book starts with a description of his arrival on the island on the steamer Ciudad de Barcelona in 1931. The passage took 10 hours at the time. It shows how traveling by sea has improved. He describes a crowded, vermin invested boat where families strike down to a makeshift picknick of self-made food. Reading that you begin to enjoy the progress of the modern world.
Arrival in Barcelona: transfer by bus to the entrance of the port
The ferry slowly eases through the industrial harbor of Barcelona to arrive at a berth which is far from the entrance to the port. Fortunately they provide a bus for those not having their own vehicle. There are no taxis in view on the main street outside the gated area so I start to walk. I have booked a hotel close to the Estacion de Francia, from where I want to take a train to France tomorrow. It is a long walk. The Boulevard along the yacht harbor is busy. A music festival is going on and they are busy checking the power of their amplifiers. The hotel pool does not give any relief from the noise: tourists sip their highly alcoholic drinks to the blast of, what I guess they call lounge music. I am glad to find a busy, but pleasant bar called Cai-Ca in Barceloneta where waiters full of attention refill my beer glass as soon as it approaches emptiness. They even warn me to not order too much. Then I retreat to the secluded peace of my room.
Empty streets of Barcelona in the morning
Next morning I walk the short way to the estacion de Francia, one of the real cathedrals of those big times of railways. It was built in 1929 by the architect Pedro Muguruza. A U-shaped structure of 195 m long surrounds the platforms which are covered with 2 halls 29 m tall. The neoclassical buildings display subtle art déco decorations of marble, bronze and crystal.
Entrance hall to Estacion de Francia in Bardelona
Unfortunately there are no trains to Francia leaving from the namesake station any more. Since the introduction of high speed services practically all long distance traffic leaves from the underground station Barcelona Sants. There cannot be a greater difference between this modern, functional concrete cavern and the beauty of the old station.
Station of Barcelona estacion de Francia
To avoid Sants I take the next departing train and alight at the intermediate stop, Barcelona Paseo de Gracia. To get onto the train towards the French border I have to cross over to the other platform. In most Spanish stations the platforms are guarded with automatic barriers. The readers at these barriers do not recognize the QR code created by the interrail ticket. In most Spanish stations that is usually not a problem since there is somebody who can open the gate for you. Not here. I have no other choice than to take the next train to Sants where the cavernous underground platforms for local and regional trains are connected via the first floor station square and you only have to get through the barriers when you want to exit or take a high speed train.
Kiosk in the station of Barcelona Sants
Fortunately they have thought of placing a kiosk inside the gated area so that travelers waiting for connecting trains can have a coffee, snack or drink. It is well frequented. Apparently I am not the only one who always is far too early. While I sip my coffee and have a sandwich the orderlies catch a wild looking man, face hidden behind a black beard and an unkempt black mane. Probably he has no ticket or he was hiding in the station. All over Barcelona there are makeshift shelters of homeless who spend their nights in quiet corners. The police walk the man to the entrance of the sprawl, where a police van is waiting for him. Suddenly he collapses and lies on the floor, lifeless. There is some discussion about what is going on but I can’t wait to watch for it being resolved since I have to look for my train.
Police taking care of a homeless in Barcelona Sants
In many other big Spanish stations the departing platforms are only announced shortly before the train actually arrives. In Sants they announce the platform first, and the track only the minute the train arrives. For locals this is probably not a problem because the tracks are frequently the same each day. For the occasional traveler it is very confusing. Trains are only announced on the screen above the entrance to that platform where it actually leaves. Or by a barely understandable voice announcement.
Cavernous underground platforms in Barcelona Sants
Notwithstanding these obstacles I manage to get to the right platform and board the train to Port Bou, which is the Spanish border station. I am surrounded by a group of German girls, probably also traveling on interrail tickets, who fall asleep as soon as they have settled in. To be prepared for leaving the train on time they set their alarm.
Underground passage to the platforms in Cerbere
Most of the Spanish trains continue beyond Port Bou to Cerbere on the French side of the border, while the French trains cross the border into Spain and end in Port Bou. The border stations are separated by the Baitres tunnel. The line both has standard gauge and Iberian broad gauge tracks. It turns out that my train also brings me to Cerbere. As pleasure for the owners of roller cases arriving on the Spanish train you have to go down a flight of stairs and to the other platform where the standard gauge trains soon arrives from Spain. But before they want to see your passports. I wonder whether they also check the passports of all those passing the border in their cars.
Spanish train (right) and French train (left) in Cerbere
The enormous station building building served the customs and border procedures. But the real extent of the structure is only visible when you look from below: the platform of the seaside part of the station hovers on top of two floors of brickwork vaults above the town and the port.
I continue with the local train to Narbonne. It passes through attractive seaside resorts such as Banyuls sur mer, Coullioure or Argeles sur Mer before it leaves the mountains behind and enters the flat coastal marshes around Perpignan. Close to the station of Salses is the enormous castle of the same name. It protects the entrance to the etangs. Part of the railway line is on a narrow dam with water on both sides. Flamingos search for crabs in the shallow waters.
The station of Narbonne
This TER train ends in Narbonne. I get ready to leave the train. When I approach the door I hear something falling. I wear a little bag on my belt with a pocket camera to use for quick snapshots. It turns out that the zipper is broken and the camera has fallen out. It slides over the floor near the door of the train but luckily stops right before it disappears in the gap between train and platform.
Intercitë Marseille - Bordeaux in Narbonne
The heat is oppressive when I leave the train. There are no good connections between regional trains in France and I have to wait for 40 min to change for the 10 min ride to Beziers, where I want to stay for the night. It is far too hot for a walk into town, in particular with a backpack. Everybody shelters in the shade of the gable roof canopy of the traditional southern french station hall. A similar hall was painted by Claude Monet in his painting of the gare de Saint Lazare in Paris.
Intercitë Bordeaux - Marseille in Narbonne
I have read that the train line from Bezier to Clermont Ferrand, which crosses the Massif Centrale, offers one of the most scenic rides in France. But when I arrive at the gare of Beziers it turns out that the train is replaced by a bus for at least part of the ride. For the bus, a free reservation is required. In addition the information screens announce a strike for the local trains for the next day. Fortunately almost every French station still has counters where agents actually sell tickets.
TGV in Beziers
Sometimes it is an advantage when you are old. It turns out that since I am retired I get a 50% reduction on the ticket price. That makes the trip to Roanne via Clermont Ferrand, which I have planned for the next day, so cheap that I can save a day of my 10 days in 2 month interrail ticket. It takes some time until the agent has issued three very strange tickets. One is a schedule which shows that I have to use the bus from Beziers to Neussarges, the train from Neussarges to Clermont – Ferrand and another train from there to Roanne. Then I get a ticket, price 0 €, from Beziers to Marvejols, and another ticket from there to Clermont Ferrand for 31 €. What I do not get is a seat reservation. But the agent assures me that everything will be all right when I show the tickets to the bus driver.
The staff of the TGV to Avignon in Beziers
Between station and town you have to pass through a tunnel under the main street. My arrival does not stop a guy from urinating in the tunnel. In the next street I have reserved a room in a place called Tanit, the hotel closest to the station. The guy even has called me to make sure he is there when I arrive. It is a very strange place. The ground floor looks like an abandoned restaurant. A crocked staircase leads to the first floor, where a separate door which definitely would need a lick of paint gives access to the front part of the building. There I find my room. The bed is hastily made up. There is a table and a chair. On the table they have lit two tea light candles. The floor is covered with a thick old floor cover. If they have got bedbugs in this country then they ought to be in this floor cover.
There is a private bathroom and a couple of towels flung over a rail in the shower. The windows give access to a balcony on the first floor above a busy street full of North African enterprises.
Beziers is an important stopping point on the canal du Midi, the canal which links the French Mediterranean to the gulf of Biscay and the Atlantic coast. The canal has some spectacular architecture in the area around Beziers:
Bridge of the canal du Midi across the river Orbe in Beziers
The old town of Beziers hovers above the canal and the river Orbe. A lift gives access to the higher parts. However, the lift is out of order. Why do they built things like that if they are not able to maintain them? I join an old and week muslim man to climb up the steep narrow street towards the cathedral.
The cloister of the cathedral of Beziers
In 1209 Beziers was the starting point of the crusade against the Bonhommes, the Cathars. The cathedral is one of the symbols of this bloody struggle:
But that was not the only carnage that happened here. A monument by Jean Antoine Injalbert at the place de la révolucion reminds of the carnage that happened in 1851. After the coup of Napoleon III the republican supporters of Beziers including the mayor resisted. The army was sent in to suppress the uprising and fired into the crowd, killing 50 people. More where condemned to death or exiled to Guyana. The former mayor died while trying to escape.
In 1907 Beziers saw another uprising, this time of the wine growers. While at the time the cultivation of wine had decreased in other parts of France, it had increased in the Languedoc where it was their main means of income. Illegal imports and smuggling threatened this business. 150000 protesters came together in Beziers. Army sent in to crush the protest either mutinied or where halted by interception of the railway. The uprising achieved such a scale that the government eventually gave in. The revolting army parts returned peacefully to their barracks after being promised that no sanctions would be imposed.
Bus stop with the bus to Neussargues
Under the constant chatter of some pet parrots I have dinner at the Place de Trois Six. The streets are dark when I walk down the street towards the hotel close to the station. There are some shady characters around. Or I am paranoid. Anyway, I am left alone. I open the door of my logis with the code given by the owner. Despite the shabby room and the strange neighborhood I have a good nights sleep.
Breakfast in the station square of Beziers
The replacement bus for the train to Clermont-Ferrand appears in the station yard in Beziers well before the scheduled departure at 9.41. The driver confirms that it will leave on time and then disappears into the station. There are trains leaving but the schedule seems to be messed up because of the strike. I buy coffee and sandwiches and have breakfast in the pleasant morning sun of the station square until the bus is ready for boarding.
Front seat departure from Beziers
When the bus finally leaves on time it is half empty. I sit in the front row behind the driver and have an unimpeded view of the romantic grey double asphalt band of the luxurious, empty, and free motorway. While the train line, as far as it can be seen from the bus, has not had any reconstruction in many years, the motorway is perfectly maintained. En route is the magnificent viaduct de Millau. Inaugurated in 2004, it took over three years and 394 million Euro to be built. The toll station 6 km from the viaduct cost another 20 million. The bridge was financed by the Eiffage company, who built it in exchange for collecting the toll fee for 75 years. They guarantee a life span of 120 years.
Access to Millau and the motorway viaduct in the background
The bus does not pay at the peage since it turns off the motorway before the viaduct to stop at the station of Millau. Like St. Flor or Marjevols it is one of the pretty historic little towns on the way. Very few passengers actually get on or off. Since the main stretch of of the motorway is toll free and there are so few passengers it is no wonder that the train is replaced by the bus.
The city gate of Marjevols
Close to Millau the railway line passes over some exceptional viaducts. While the Viaducs de Aguessac and de Vezouillac are built from stone with multiple arches the red viaduc de Garabit spans the valley of the Truyére in one gracious arch. It can be seen from the bus. This bridge was also constructed by Gustave Eiffel's company between 1882 and 1884, is 565 m (in length and a principal arch of 165 m span. It has long passed the life time guaranteed for the Millau viaduct.
In the distance across the motorway the viaduc de Garabit
After 5 hours on the bus we finally arrive in Neussargues. The bus stops in the yard in front of a strikingly white and clean, but mostly empty station. The bus driver opens the hatches to give us access to our bags. It is definitely not the fault of this friendly and relaxed chap that I do not like the bus.
The train from Aurillac to Clermont Ferrand in Neussargues
Eventually one of those cigar like rail cars arrives from Aurillac for our continuation to Clermont-Ferrand. After the train stops and the conductor gets off it happens what almost happened to me the day before. The conductor loses his phone, but it does not stop before falling into the gap between the train and the platform. Fortunately the platform has never been reconstructed and there is a wide gap to the train. Being the conductor, he takes the liberty to crawl into the gap between train and platform to retrieve his phone.
Conductor looking for his lost phone
This train is quite busy. It is also far too quick for my taste. While I try to enjoy the view from the window the guy behind me tries to tell me the story of his life. Together with his mate he is on the return from an interrail trip. He is from Ireland but lives in Alice Springs in Australia. They are afraid that the strike will torpedo their tight travel plans. After a short night in Clermont Ferrand they want to continue to Paris tomorrow, where they have the better part of an hour to change to the Gare du Nord to catch the Eurostar to London. They disappear quickly into the crowds at Clermont Ferrand station to find their hotel.
Rush hour in Clermont Ferrand
Although many train lines from here have been interrupted or closed down the town still is a busy railway hub. At this time trains leave for Thiers, Issoire, Volvic, Moulins sur Allier, Montlucon, Vertaizon, Vic le Comte and Paris Bercy. My plan was to take the 17.02 train to Lyon Perrache until Roanne where I have already booked a cheap hotel. Leaving from Roanne I would have the whole day of tomorrow to cross most of eastern France on local trains to go to Epinal. Because there are so many trains leaving at this time of the day the train to Lyon is not yet announced on the departure board.
The platform of Clermont Ferrand
When it finally appears it is followed by the remark: supprimé - cancelled. It turns out that the local section of the French railway unions has expressed their strike on the trains to Lyon leaving after 15.00 ….. But again, being France, there is plenty of staff around to help. They give me a replacement connection. That involves taking the 16.42 train to Moulins sur Allier, from there take the 18.35 bus to Paray Le Monial, and from there the 20.19 bus to Roanne, arrival 21.20. That way the 1 hour 20’ rail trip from Clermont Ferrand to Roanne would turn into a 4 hour 30’ordeal by bus. But then, I already have reserved and paid 71 € for the hotel in Roanne. I take the packed train to Moulins. Maybe they all want to go to Roanne…. ?
The station of Moulins sur Allier
and across the square the hôtel le Parc
I arrive in Moulins after almost an hour. When I leave the station and look for the departure point of the bus I spot Hôtel le Parc right across the street. It is one of those Logis hotels which also usually feature a good restaurant. And what could I do when I arrive in Roanne as late as 21.20? I would not see anything of the town and would have to leave early next morning. I walk into the hotel and ask for a room at the reception. As expected, I get the last one. And a reservation for dinner. There is plenty of time to have a little walk into town.
Main square of Moulins sur Allier
Moulins sur Allier is one of those positive surprises you only discover when you travel spontaneously. It is a lovely town. An old town full of half timbered houses, a spectacular town square, an enormous cathedral and the remainders of a palace. As many French towns it has a lot of its proper little stories, well documented in the panels illustrating the town’s history by means of a city walk. When the king was about to visit in the 15th century, the duke pulled down a part of the city to enlarge and beautify his palace. Most of the palace, in turn, was demolished when the cathedral was extended because it became the seat of a bishop. The art-nouveau has left its monument in the form of Les nouvelles galleries.
The cathedral of Moulins
Art Deco in Moulins
Only the signs of our age are hideous. They have separated their lovely old town from the river by a motorway.
There is no way to get to Epinal tomorrow. Instead I book a seat on a direct train to Paris Bercy. The contingent of interrail seats is sold out. So I have to buy a non-contingented ticket which sets me back 22 € and is probably more expensive than buying a ticket for a retired person with 50% reduction. The advantage is that the train leaves late enough to allow for a relaxed breakfast.
Intercité train in the station of Moulins sur Allier
In the morning I wake up from the motorcyclists who have to warm up their engines in the yard of the hotel. What a miserable technology which has to be warmed up before it eventually can be used. After the breakfast which is a bit disappointing I walk across the street to the station. The train, an old fashioned comfortable IC with coaches and a locomotive, is on time. When I show my interrail ticket nobody asks for the reservation. Another guy sleeps in the passage between the coaches – I guess he does not have any reservation.
Passenger sleeping in the passage of the intercité
Nevers is the next stop. It is another lovely Burgundy town and I have spent a pleasant night here before. That was only some month ago but meanwhile they have closed down the line between Nevers and Dijon so it was no option to stay here again.
Blind man searching for the exit of the station of Nevers
A blind man with his white stick gets off the train in Nevers. Man and stick cast long shadows on the sunny platform. With his stick he searches for the exit. He takes the wrong direction, away from the staircase giving access to the tunnel under the tracks. Nobody helps him.
Arrival in Paris Bercy
The train arrives on time in Paris Bercy. Of all the termini in Paris this is the least attractive, being built as a kind of extension to the Gare du Lyon. It is a walk of several hundred meters to the metro stop. And what a surprise: they have new and comprehensible ticket machines which replaced the old fashioned ones where you had to navigate with a kind of roll. But there are long lines. It turns out that there are more machines around the corner where nobody is waiting. And they work. For 2.10 € I get one of the old fashioned tickets with a magnetic strip.
Metro station Le chatelet
I have to take metro 14 for 2 stops to Chatelet and then change to metro 4 for 7 stops to the gare del Est. Before I go through the barrier a guy asks politely whether he can come with me on the same ticket. It takes me less than 40 minutes between leaving the train in Bercy and entering the hall of the station of the Gare du Nord. After I have found it. OK, I accept that they are busy rebuilding here. But it is almost an art to hide the access to such a big station so perfectly. From here there is a train to Maubeuge at the Belgian border. 20 min before departure it is announced to leave on track 15. Again it is a comfortable train of coaches and an old locomotive.
Intercité to Maubeuge ready to leave from Gare du Nord
Before the train leaves a parade of homeless tries their luck. One distributes little leaflets where he asks for help for his 4 children since he is out of work. Gratefully he comes back and collects the leaflets with or without money. Another one tries it with a speech in each coach. It is more work but with as little success.
Hall of the station in Maubeuge
With high speed the next to empty train races down the straight line towards the north-east. The few stops are in Compiegne, St. Quentin and Aulnoye. After exactly 2 hours the train arrives in one of the ugliest stations of France. But the station hall built in a time when architecture as a form of arts did not exist has a couple of businesses selling coffee, drinks and sandwiches. Well provisioned I board another rather empty train crossing the border to Belgium to Charleroi.
Belgian train from Maubeuge to Charleroi
Under Louis XIV Maubeuge became French. Subsequently it was fortified by Vauban. The fortress was reinforced several times to withstand the battles of the years 1793/4 and 1814/5. After the war in 1870/1 the citadelle of Maubeuge was further reinforced by 6 surrounding fortresses. Nevertheless it could not hold back the German invasions in 1914 and 1940. Especially the attack of 1940 caused the destruction of 90% of the town center. Nevertheless are the ramparts still prominent in the layout of the town. There is a museum in Fort de Leveau in Feignies giving information about the history of the fortifications.
View into the gardens of the Hainault
Maubeuge is situated on both sides of the Sarne, a navigable river linking it with Charleroi. It takes the train almost an hour for the 28 km. Today the valley of the Sarne is an attractive wooded natural area between the dilapidated industrial centers around Maubeuge in France and Charleroi in Belgium. The train window offers a view into the quiet streets of little country-side towns which seem to have lost their former importance. A garden close to a station offers a little basin for a school of geese. The abbey of Saint-Ursmer towers above Lobbes. A bit further on, after the town of Thuin, the ruin of the enormous Abbaye Aulne cannot hide behind the trees.
This is the province of Hainaut and its towns and villages were well connected by an extensive network of tram lines. It is almost completely gone. Only in Thuin the museé de Tram Vicinal offers a glimpse into how easy and comfortable public transport used to be in this area. The museum still operates a couple of tram lines in the area of Lobbes and Thuin. More of the local trams can be seen in the excellent museum in Liege.
In the seat across a man covered in tattoos. He displays his last three visible teeth while strange sounds spring from his mouth. He is in a friendly mood and gives me a smile.
Pipes at the access to Charleroi
Charleroi is announced by deserted industry and the enormous pipes which run along the railway tracks - district heating using the surplus heat from the industry of Charleroi. Soon blast furnaces and big machine halls come into view. However, the smoke above is gone. Industry is closed down.
Blast furnace in Charleroi
The station of Charleroi is – symbolically – dwarfed by the motorway, which runs on a huge bridge above the platforms. Three more trains separate me from home: Charleroi to Antwerp, Antwerp to Breda, and from there to Delft.
