Canoeing across Europe: a camping experience of epic proportions

A look at the best riverside campsites in Europe from potentially the most experienced riverside camper around.

Ever thought of camping and canoeing in Europe? James Warner Smith describes his own five-month journey across the continent

On 2^nd
July last year, I slid a shiny new canoe down a muddy riverbank, piled it high
with camping gear and set forth onto France’s longest river, The Loire. Not
only was it France’s longest river, but I was going the wrong way, and once I’d
battled hundreds of miles upstream towards the source, I wouldn’t have finished
my journey, in fact, I wouldn’t even have done 10%.

Along with a
friend, Nathan Wilkins, I was embarking on an adventure that had been two years
in the making: to cross the entire continent of Europe by canoe, something that
had never been done before. Our route was a twisting mix of European waterways,
each one directly connected to the next, spanning a total distance of 3000
miles. From Nantes, in France, we were bound for Istanbul, Turkey, and when we
set off on that bright July morning we had no idea what lay before us.

The expedition
spawned from a canoe trip I had done four years earlier in the wilderness of
the Yukon, Northern Canada. In two weeks I encountered more bears than humans
and was hooked on the primitive escapism of the journey. As my university years
passed I read countless adventure books and, learning that it had never been done,
I began mapping a route across Europe by rivers alone.

Of course,
Europe is in stark contrast to North America. While we had plenty of days in
unadulterated river valleys, the majority of time we found ourselves paddling
through settlements steeped in riverside history and diverse in culture. By the
time we reached Istanbul we had canoed through ten different countries each
offering something new and exciting. In fact, it was the regular encounters
with local people that made for such a fascinating journey across Europe: from
helping an Austrian man reel in the biggest fish I’ve ever seen, to watching
Kung Fu Panda with the Romanian border police, brief moments out of the canoe
offered a window into an ever-changing human landscape and a glimpse of places
I will, mostly, never have the chance to see again.

The opportunity
to visit some of the most fascinating places in Europe did not come easy, of
course. We were not flying around on night-trains with our fellow students. The
expedition had all the trials and tribulations you would expect of a voyage
that lasted five months: from the physical strain of upstream paddling across
France, we progressed onto the Rhine, Europe’s busiest commercial river, where
we dodged between 600ft tankers and crowded cruise liners touring the historic
cities. From here we headed back upstream on the river Main, a German waterway
that almost boxes the compass in a constant tangle of tight meanders. Through
dark Bavarian forests and sloping vineyards, we merged onto an artificial canal
that took us to the River Danube, our final waterway and the second longest
river in Europe.

We were living a
nomadic lifestyle, guided in our direction by the natural landscape. The
unknown became a simple formality, waking up each morning to head somewhere new
and never being surprised if didn’t turn out as expected. On day 17 we had most
of our gear stolen, on day 25 we capsized, on day 98 we were threatened by
gypsies, on day 136 we were arrested by the Bulgarian Navy… just a few
highlights from the endless list in my diary, perfect examples of what
adventure is all about.

Even taking in
cultural capitals such as Strasbourg, Frankfurt, Vienna and Budapest the
expedition was, at its heart, a wholly outdoors experience. Flitting through
these cities in filthy clothes and muddy sandals, the workaday lifestyle of
normal living seemed foreign and strange. Vibrant metropolises would hold our
interest for a while, but we yearned to be back on the move or camping on the
riverside amongst the trees, gradually changing shade as we headed into autumn.
During the 146 nights of expedition, fewer than 20 were spent indoors and the
efficiency of our camping set up was incredible. Over the course of nightly
repetition we had become a well-oiled machine and from landing our canoe we
could be eating a freshly cooked meal, beside the fully furnished tent, within
twenty minutes.

Almost a year
on, I can picture most camping spots clearly in my mind. Unzipping the tent and
stepping out onto our own private island in the middle of the river Danube,
sitting around a campfire in the dark or washing in the bone-chilling river
water. It was the most authentic camping experience imaginable and the freedom
of the riverbanks, especially in Eastern Europe, was glorious. We stayed in our
fair share of campsites too and even here the diversity was staggering. For
example our summers night in Amboise,
France, camping opposite the grand Château, with 300 electric pitches, wifi, a full time
security guard and three shower blocks with full laundry facilities, can be
compared with stumbling across a campsite in Golubac,
Serbia where, in October, we shared the run down women’s toilets with the two
other campers and shooed a stray dog from our tent at bedtime.

Notable favourites
from those sites we stayed at were Camping Du Lac,
in the tiny French village of Palinges, where I ate the best steak of my life,
hands down. Situated on the edge of a small lake, perfect for swimming, the
owners were friendly and helpful, giving us a lift to the nearest town where we
could do our weekly food shop. Similarly, Camping Au An Der Donau in Austria
was a pleasant riverside campsite that won us over with a friendly owner.
Impressed by what we were up to, he offered to drive us to local sights and let
us camp for free, smoothly done by surprising us with a fully printed invoice with a 100%
discount rate. In Passau,
Germany we camped a short walk from the city centre in a quaint, tent-only,
campsite. The picturesque spot, alongside the river Ilz, was occupied by like-minded
travellers following the Danube River Bike Trail and has a very simple charm, despite
continuous rain. Finally, worth a mention was the awesome location of our
campsite in Budapest, Hungary.
Despite the arduous and slightly audacious carry of our canoe, which involved crossing a busy train
line, the campsite is a kilometre from the river and right in the city. There’s
a metro station around the corner, but the city centre is actually just a 20-minute walk away.

Whether in the
heart of Budapest or on a muddy island, camping was an aspect of expedition
routine that, like everything else, was a constant journey. In Romania we slept
with sticks as the howl of dogs echoed across the Danube valley, a far cry from
our early days in France where, exhausted, we slept to the sound of children still
playing in the evening heat. Wherever we camped, the next day we’d quietly pack
our things and drift back onto the river, leaving nothing but a small imprint
on the ground, a relic of our brief existence in that place. By nightfall we’d
be pitching our tent further across Europe, equally exhausted but equally
contented and, as always, bound for Istanbul.

By James Warner Smith. May 2014.