Day 13.          Sunday 11th June 2017.    Mileage:  0000   Total: 402

From:             La Tranche sur Mer             To:   La Tranche sur Mer  

Weather:       Hot sunny.

We decided today to cycle into La Tranche sur Mer and take advantage of the free WiFi offered by the Tourist Office. I believe most T.O. in France offer this facility.

We took off in a flash and pushed hard up the few small hills we encountered.  Mike thinking, well life isn’t too bad at all.  We arrived in the square, an ultra modern setting with beautiful stonework with a wide, almost Italian Piazza looking styling.  Around the edges of which were a few open air lounge areas, serving drinks and food.  We padlocked the bikes and went walk about.  Passing some of the Restaurants we ate in last September.  We found a Thai Restaurant which we determined we would eat at tomorrow.  We walked out towards the Marina and the Wind surfing school and strolled out onto the pier. 

The Road to La Tranche Pier

At the end of which was a fisherman, literally casting his net.  We stood for some time watching whilst he raised and lowered a net some four meters square, held open as a square by two cross rods.  At their junction, he had attached cordage, with which he would lower the net, allow it to sink below the water, wait a few minutes and then raise it again.  If it had any fish in it, he would raise it the 20 feet up to the pier and hoick out his catch.  More often than not, it was empty.  In the thirty minutes we watched, we saw him land five tiddlers.  To my mind, these were sardines.  I'm uncertain what a sardine looks like, but when questioning Monsieur about the fish, not once did I catch the word Sardine.

Jackie suggested they might be Whitebait.  They were tiny things around 6 cm long by 1 cm wide.  Hardly worth the effort, I thought.  Perhaps he has an overbearing wife and its either this, or go home and chat with the Mrs.

There is a very nice Restaurant situated on the outer edge of La Tranche, it seemed a likely candidate for lunch, crisp white, ironed tablecloths. good quality silverware and sparkling glasses adorned the various tables. Unfortunately, we had not saved up sufficient funds to enable us to dine in.  However, next door there was a sort of Buffet style café.  On the upper floor, it was roofed over. This gave protection from the sun but otherwise open affording great views out over the bay and marina.  We joined the queue and for the princely sum of E25 we ate well.  Mike was tempted by the Lamb Casserole with Cous Cous and Jackie had a Chicken salad with a creamy dessert and a small Carafe of Rose.

Life was certainly good.  All was about to change and pretty drastically.

We returned to the square to collect our bikes for the 3K ride back to our van, when Mike was suddenly and violently gripped by a searing pain in his right groin.  As he double up, he was supported by Jackie.  He could barely walk.  We shuffled to some railings and waited for the agony to pass.  He could not sit or lean. The only modicum of relief was to be found by standing and not moving. An hour passed.  Then two.  Jackie was concerned lest I passed out and was drawing up contingency plans.  Meanwhile, all I could do was stand and take it on the chin.  Jackie fed me a couple of paracetamol.  More for her benefit, I think, than mine.

We needed an action plan, as things had not improved.  The square was bounded by the Tourist office on the North face, the East façade housed the Mairie, which was open for voting, whilst in the South West Corner, stood a couple of those brilliant, self cleaning Tardis WC’s.  The main building which now offered, as I thought, the greatest prospect of assistance was located in the top North East corner.  A miniscule building with a tiny door over which it displayed the sign ‘Police Municipal’.  Leaning heavily on Jackie for support, we made a slow torturous journey towards it. To our surprise, the "nick" was open.

In we walked and the comedy of errors that ensued would do a Brian Rix Farce credit.  My “Je Suis Malade Aidez Moi” illicited an “Un Moment” from the copper.  He was on traffic duty, monitoring a bank of CCTV cameras and responding to the members of the publics parking concerns.  Eventually, he turns some of his attention to me. Over a period of thirty minutes, he suggested we try the Pharmacy?  I said “Ferme”   La Bureau Du Tourism? “Ferme”.  “Il y a une Doctor pres d'ice?” I asked."Non." “Do you have any suggestions?" I asked in English?  “Non”  he replied in between taking many calls.  We thanked him – for what some might say was nothing and tried the phone numbers on display in the Pharmacy window, none of which connected.  I stopped a few passers by and got them to listen to the various recorded messages.  No-one seemed to understand.  We returned to the Police Station.  His face dropped when I walked in. I suspect, he thought or hoped, I had crawled off into a corner to die and in that the problem would have resolved itself.  However, here was Mike as large as life if not looking that alive.  I asked where was the nearest Hospital.

Forty Km away.  “Can you order me a taxi please”?  He replied “I don’t have any contact numbers”  “Do you not have a phone book”? I asked with more than a degree of sarcasm in my voice.  This I followed with “Do you have a squad car free”?  He either did not comprehend, or chose to ignore it.  He suggested trying the hotel for a taxi.  I said that it was closed, he suggested another one,  on our route back to the Campsite which we were familiar with.  Getting nowhere, I thanked him and we exited.

Putting on my best Humphrey Bogart voice, I turned to Jackie and said “Its you and me on our own kid”.  We shuffled across the square once again, unlocked the bikes and began the long shuffle back to the Campervan.  Why didn’t I dial for the Pompiers – Emergency service as Jackie suggested.  You tell me ……..  I kept telling myself that things would improve, they didn’t.  I pushed one bike, Jackie the other.  Determined to get to the hotel for a Taxi, I arrived, sweating a bit, its true, but thought, if I made it this far, I can surely push on a bit further.

The next hill up was a bit of an issue,  but I told myself, it was no worse than a tab up the Beacon on a Saturday morning after a Friday night on the Beer.  By the time we arrived back at the Camper, I didn’t feel quite so bad.  Jackie suggested a cuppa and I could perch on the edge of the seat without too much discomfort.  Another thirty minutes and the pain had subsided to a dull ache.  Jackie made a very light sandwich and we turned in early evening. 

It had been a somewhat exhausting day.