Day 41 Sunday 9^th July 2017      From:  Isle de Olorone.  To: Rochefort.

Mile:16455- 16482  Daily:  27      Meteo: Hot and sunny.

             The church bells woke us this morning. They sounded lovely peeling away. The day shone bright. Whilst Mike laid the table and set up the chairs outside Jackie was busy in the galley cooking, bacon, eggs, fried onions, mushrooms, beans, and black pudding. Then Mike woke up when Jackie passed out his bowl of porridge. Being a Sunday we have a special treat. A small squirt of honey and its made half and half, ie milk and water. I prefer mine made with water and a wee dram as our friends North o’ the border do! Well that’s the way Mel Gibson had his in ‘Braveheart’.

Mary doll, ya dinna pu ma salt in ma porridge.

           Despite the size of this campsite at L’Ramparts, it is surprisingly quiet. We can hear a few children playing on the swings in the play area but fortunately the two camper vans from Espania, or at least the incumbents of which, are still fast asleep. They must be, otherwise they would be gabbling on. Jackie tells me they were chittering on most of the night. “Where they?” I thought that was the correct reply but it seems not. “You were snoring as soon as your head hit the pillow”. I said nothing. This tree covered park was an oasis of calm, peace and tranquillity. We had to vacate the site by 1400hrs so decided on a walk into the citadel. The walled city, port and fort that was ‘through the hedge’.

          We stepped through the gate and it was like stepping out of the Tardis into another world. It was heaving. People on the sidewalks moving to and fro in both directions. Cyclists and cars. It was a short walk through the citadel gates, no longer there but bear with me on this one and into a Sunday marche that would easily have swallowed Petticoat Lane. You could barely move.  It was quite spectacular in that respect.

1.  We had come from quiet isolation into a world of bawling children being dragged through throngs of adults by adults looking at stalls selling in my    opinion mainly tat. The only stalls worthy of contemplation I always think are the stalls selling ‘Crab Nems’. Haven’t seen any since we’ve been in France Tim!

         

     

           We always look at the stalls with local produce from the farms and vineyards. I had to be quite firm with Jackie this morning when she stopped at her fifth cognac stall pretending she was interested in purchasing. At every cognac stall we stopped, Jackie would feign interest. The stall owner thinking he had a customer would proffer a shot glass into which he would pour some of the amber nectar. Jackie would mummer a demure “Merci” then, she would first gently swirl the glass, hold it to the light, sniff it, then, totally spoiling the illusion, neck it. She would count a pause of, tup three, say “Non” and move on. What a performance and she doesn’t even drink Cognac. I was so embarrassed.

         

On the ramparts looking over the 'protected' harbour.

            We walked down to the port and the old Napoleonic Fort. There are numerous forts on both sides of the Gironde here as well as six or more on various islands. I bet the French builders loved us ‘Rost Beef’ raiding this coast. Job creation. Louis XIV commissioned ‘em. Of course, these ancient buildings were occupied by the Germans in WW2 and there were numerous aerial photos on display of British bombers reducing it to rubble. Fortunately, Bomber Command didn’t do half as much damage as the photos would suggest.

            These old Napoleonic fortifications seem to follow the same or very similar patterns whether they be English to stop the French or French to stop the English. At Crownhill fort in Plymouth you can visit one such Napoleonic fort that was in use from pretty much it’s completion till the 1980’s just after the Falklands War when it was used as a mobilization centre. Indeed, I can remember when the army was in residence and the moat was used as an assault course.

Inside the Fort with the main entrance in the background.

A  Damsel in distress in the foreground?

           It was pretty hot now and time for a beer. We selected a café on the cross paths and sat down in the cool breeze that was now blowing and ordered a Monaco and panache. That’s right Panache for me, I’m driving later, early this afternoon. Being lunch time the crowds had thinned as they had undoubtedly made their way back to whence they had come for lunch. Although the place seemed to be doing a roaring trade. Finishing our drinks we popped into a butchers. Very clean, ultra-modern décor and a wide range of meats, pies, savoury tarts and a small but exclusive selection of pastries. I chose the goats cheese with courgettes, eggs and herbs. Now you guys know I hate goats cheese but this was irresistible. Well it looked great. It tasted even better with fortunately only the merest hint of goat! Jackie chose the tuna tart and for dessert we opted to share a flan. Nobody but nobody makes custard flan like the French patisseries. It stands erect when lifted like a paid porn star. In other words you can lift it up and the whole lot doesn’t collapse in a heap like the anaemic excuse for a custard tart ‘á  Angleterre’. Alas pleasant as this was we needed to hit the road. Our next stop Rochefort and the ancient naval dockyards.

     We arrive at a municipal camp site in Rochefort about 1415 hrs. For once it is easily found. It is E18 a night, we have booked for two. Everything is included. Electricity, hot showers, a laundry and dryers for another E2, shaded area under tees, our own potable water tap and even a piped TV socket. We have seen no TV in six weeks and are not missing it.

Municipal Campsite at Rochefort near the river and Hermione.

          

At last the canopy is rolled out. Jackie's happy now.

                Jackie was determined to roll out the canopy. Believe it or not we had not once so far this trip had it extended. Either because some of the aires we stayed on forbade it or because it was simply not needed due to the shade of trees etc or the suns position at the latter part of the day.

"I'm happy now  the canopy's out".

Quiche, flan and panache. That's living!

           We ate some of the flan we bought this am for lunch, saved some for later to have with a salad for dinner. Resting through the heat of the afternoon we walked out of camp about 1715hrs to the local dockyard and L’Hermione. This is a reconstruction of the French warship that took General Layfayette to aid those damn American revolutionaries in 1870 overthrow the rightful rule of law as prescribed by good King George. We sat for some time and watched, mainly youngsters climb the wire climbing course organized among the three masts representing a warship of the line. Mike was keen to have a go but wondered if he would bottle it that high up. There were wee fellas and girls some seemed as young as six or seven up in the rigging literally running around.

       There were one or two Dad’s even a mum, who was fairly racing along the wires, showing their offspring what to do. One of the dad’s you could tell was not really enjoying it. Because we all hate to think we cannot do now what we did in our twenties I convinced myself that it would be foolish to climb rigging and swing along zip wires ending in a sixty-foot free fall abseil. Cluck, cluck, cluck.  

           It was now 1900hrs and L’Hermione was closing. We wandered through a maze in the botanical gardens, got lost and had to ask a seven year old to guide us to the exit. How embarrassing! Our return route home was via the sentier de Charente. This followed the path downstream by the Charente. A lovely evening. Fortunately, the tide was in. That helps a great deal around here!

           One of the precautions I had taken when provisioning the Ice Cream lorry at the start of this journey was of bringing with me 6 cans of Thatcher’s Gold. Purely for medicinal purposes you understand. This evening I opened the last can. That’s one can a week for six weeks. We have another week at least in country. No Thatchers. I might have to come home early.

           P.S.  A ginglee van has just driven onto site and passed by us. You should have seen Jackie’s face when I told her we were not buying ice creams at 2115hrs. Instead I went inside and made a nice cup of tea. You don’t think I’m spoiling her do you?