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What We Did On Our Vacation

What We Did On Our Vacation

By Bailey Davis

Long time Middleburg resident Bailey Davis was kind enough to share a very long and fascinating letter she sent her parents more than 50 years ago describing what she and her husband, Brad, had encountered while making their way across Europe, then on to their final destination in Beirut, in the fall of 1971. This is Part One, with more adventures to come.

Bailey and Brad Davis

September 15, 1971, 6:30 a.m.: Grizzly and cold, the car packed to the brim with all sorts of junk from sleeping bags, cooking utensils, extra gas cans (which were great as they leaked all over the car, and we almost passed out from the fumes), too many suitcases, flashlights, extra tires, tools, water, jugs, toilet paper. We headed off for Beirut….We left in our car, a 1965 VW station wagon, which has spent more time in the shop than out since we bought it. We weren’t sure we’d ever see Beirut.

Off to Dover to get the hovercraft for Boulogne, France. This is an invention the British can be very proud of, an airship that takes about 35 cars and several hundred passengers and glides over the English Channel taking only 35 minutes. It looks like part boat and part helicopter and really does its thing.

Boulogne to Paris was nothing special and we arrived in Paris several hours later. Brad and I walked about taking in all the familiar sites. Lunch in an open café; those little babies are really expensive, but it was delicious. That evening we attended a grand party off the Place de Concorde, as this was the opening of the Paris branch of Chemical Bank. Big excitement, and half of New York was there. We stayed in an old hotel, modernized but remaining were the old high ceilings, big French doors, windows, and the bathroom. Monstrously big with a refrigerator filled with booze and ice, just the material needed for a stupendous bath.

Next day after croissants and butter, we headed for Geneva, a long, lazy drive through French farming country which can put one to sleep. Approaching Switzerland, the mountains are a welcome relief. Brad had been reading information about a camping site outside the city he was determined to find. After two hours of searching and with no luck, we headed for the nearest restaurant to get energy for more searching. After two more hours, we finally found it off a back road, scrubby and small, so we decided to forge on toward Italy. It was across the border again and into the French mountains, little realizing that we had neglected to get our Swiss francs changed into French francs, so we virtually had no money and our gas tank registered almost empty.

The mountain fog was really getting thick. It was about 12:30 a.m. and we were beat. Saw a gas station outside Chamonix, so in we ventured. The gas man was very nice, but spoke no English and wouldn’t accept our Swiss money. An hour later and with my poor French, we knew the entire history of this man and he knew ours. Finally, he consented to give us gas, but where to sleep? Where else but behind his gas station under the shadow of Mont Blanc. After accepting the kindly offered use of his facilities, we slept like logs in about 20° and frost, and then it was off to the Italian border.

To be continued.

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