Day 48 Sunday 16^th July 2017     From:Le Gard sur mer  To: Mousterlin

Mile:16578-16791   Daily:  213        Meteo: Sunny and hot.

Depart 0915hrs. Most of the site seemed asleep. A few were up and about, sat at breakfast tables. Most waved. Most of the camper fraternity seem to wave when you depart. In fact, in common with most French people they will all say good morning or good evening.

1000hrs. We are driving through the centre of La Roche sur yon. This is a big city with wide well signposted roads. Not signposted well enough it seems for the Stopportons, well Mike, who happened to be driving at the time. He decided to follow the autre directions sign and not listen to his navigator! The only thing that saved me from a ‘roasting’ was the sudden appearance of a Carrefour store. It seemed open.

Sundays in France are not quite as Draconian as they used to be. Although I’m not a great advocate of Sunday shopping. We were however short on rations and we needed to take advantage of the stores opening hours till lunchtime. Not all superstores/markets will be open remember. Walking in we were some of the first customers. Exiting an hour later, I know, how do you spend an hour in a supermarket? The car park was full. This was by far the most expensive amount of shopping we had bought mainly due to the 6 bottles of Charente Pinot and various Lego Constructrix kits we were taking home.  We were back on the road again by 1115hrs.

1505hrs. We arrive at Mousterlin. This was the first aire we stayed at when we arrived  in France. Nearly seven weeks ago! Jackie was keen to return here. There is little in the way of cafes, restaurants or anything else in the immediate area. The beach is long and wide with a breakwater at one end. Thirty minutes’ walk away is a small café. First task. Get a brew going. The roads have been busy today with much traffic. Probably because it is bank holiday Sunday afternoon. Fortunately, there were four spaces remaining. It was slightly overcast but very warm. This cleared away as soon as we put out the chairs for tea and a slice of flan, courtesy Carrefour.

We lazed most of the remainder of the day and read

our books. Come 1800hrs it had cooled somewhat and we decided to go for a stroll along the water’s edge and paddle our feet.

Arriving at the concrete breakwater we decided to walk on a little more. It was busy with more visitors and children in evidence on the beach and rock pools. I suspect the little dears might by now have broken up for holidays. When we were here a few weeks back the place was virtually deserted apart from us old folks in camper vans. We walked as far as the bistro café on the edge of a commercial camp site.

Jackie checked out the menu. Nothing too exciting, standard fare but not the exorbitant prices the hotel near the pier wanted to charge. Unfortunately, neither of us had brought any cash for a beer as neither of us thought we were walking far!

Returning to the van we had a lovely diner of fish in breadcrumbs with haricots verre, toms and a small side salad. Washed down with a couple of G+T’s. The evening was by now very hot as we were sat in the suns direct rays.

Day 47 Saturday 15^th July 2017     From:Le Gard sur mer  To: Le Gard sur mer

Mile:16578    Daily:  000        Meteo: Sunny and hot.

Beautiful sunny day. Whilst we waited for the kettle to boil Mike ran across the road and checked out the beach. The tide was on its way out from the high point. There was barely more than a dozen people on the beach of the whole bay. This was at 0900hrs. Returning to the van Mike was side-tracked by the rubbish removal boy.

Already at this early hour there were fresh plastic sacks on their holders on the beach ready for today’s visitors. But the fascination was with the row of hopper bins that lined the pavement outside the aire. You could see how one put the rubbish in but as these were sunk into the ground how do the collection guys get them out?

The answer was obvious really. A pneumatic crane. The jib arm had some sort of grab arm that connected to the top stump of the bin and lifted a 3 meter long container out of the ground, swung it over the rear of the lorry threw a switch and the bottom opened and deposited the contents into the lorry. Not knowing the word for fascinating I said it in English to the chap stood next to me also watching intently.  He was German and once more another most enlightening conversation ensued. We chatted about my youth spent in Germany on the Rhine and Moselle, Jackie's various visits to Munich with Wrigley's, the Deutches Museum and of course rubbish and recycling in Germany, France and the UK. Once again it seems we in GB are well behind. I had to take my leave as 'Feiststuck' was ready.

Breakfast over we were off to the beach. It was now 1200hrs. Yes it was a late breakfast. We didn’t leave the beach till 1830hrs. The only thing of interest was the walk to the ‘cabane’ for two chocolate Magnums, madame smiled at me. She must have remembered me from yesterday and my poor pronunciation of Almond which she corrected. Today it seems I did better as she said “Bon”. We sat at the tables outside the 'cabane' and responded to an E mail from Jill Nixon. An invite to supper on the Friday with them as hosts. Tim, Suzie and Ava as the other guests. We’re not home yet and the diary is filling. Ruby Murray at 78 for the family Wednesday night. Day off Thursday? Jackie Tracey, Sheila and Callum go to Mother Ivey’s Saturday for a holiday. Well Jackie will need another one soon! She comes home the following Saturday for a few days then flies to Glasgow for a long weekend to visit relations. Me? I’m Billy-no-mates.

The other thing which occupied us for a while was a three year old, lost boy. An elderly woman approached me, greatly distressed and asked if I had seen her grandson. I apologised and said my French was poor. She repeated slowly and I grasped her 3 year old grandson had gone walkabout. I asked what colour maillot and chapeau he was wearing. Establishing they were both blue and where her position on the beach was we spent the next thirty minutes walking up and down searching for the wee fella. She was frantic as you can imagine. It ended well as by now there were others searching and he was soon found. She thanked us most profusely for our help, which we found a bit embarrassing. Jackie said, “That doesn’t make good copy”. “What are you talking about?” I asked. "Well the papers would rather hear about English lager louts throwing fridges off hotel room balconies than this goody two shoes stuff”.

Here was me all these years thinking I was the cynic!

Back at the ice cream lorry mike set about prepping the evening meal. Pasta.

Day 46  Friday 14^th July 2017     From: Les Combrands  To: Le Gard sur mer

Mile: 16530 - 16578    Daily:   48        Meteo: Sunny, bit breezy.

It was 0900hrs and we were late waking. It was sunny. Jackie had a minor headache. Caused I am certain by the consumption of a glass or two too much vin rouge last night. There was much celebrating dans la maison the previous evening. Whether this was due to the arrival of Pascal as we were part the way through a BBQ or the arrival of Bernard, another neighbour and his wife Domenic and their two young granddaughters or the fact the Stopportons had confirmed they would move on today I am uncertain.

We departed at 1200hrs. Lal ensuring we took Pascal's parting gifts of two marrows! Mike wondered if we could smuggle these back into the UK or would border control be forewarned?

Sometimes it was seat of the pants with the nav.

Jackie had selected a route that took us across the marshes due NW as opposed to going S and the long way around. The selected route might well be on quite narrow roads! It was not the case. It was a beautiful sunny day and the drive N through the ‘marais’ was very pleasant.

Check out the size of me marrows!

You didn't know marrows grew on trees did you.

Lal escorts us out ensuring we actually leave!

Soon we were upon higher ground and were passing through fields of vines, sunflowers and grain. Numerous grain stores and co-operatives were in evidence.

Within ninety minutes we arrived at the Municipal Aire at Le Goulet. A municipal campsite right beside the beach for E9-20. Tarmac hardstanding's but with plenty of hedges between plots for privacy.

Again this was a gated entry via credit card. We were concerned that we would not find a parking place as it was Bastille Day and a public holiday. We anticipated more weekend traffic than normal. This reasoning seemed reinforced by the amount of traffic on the route here but again as we drove up to the barrier we could spot places. This aire has 60 emplacements. Having paid our E9-20 entered the code into the barrier, it lifted and in we drove. We parked. Looked up and there directly opposite us was the English couple whom we met on Le Isle Olorone. Some 5 days ago. We walked across to them and chatted, the usual mundane conversation then set about prepping lunch.

Entrance to the campsite.

We crossed the road and were on the beach by 1500hrs. It was our intention on a recce only but strolled along the water’s edge till we came to a cabane selling ‘lick licks’ Here we were relieved of E6 for two ‘Amande’ Magnums. We sat on those horrible red plastic Coca Cola seats, ate our ice creams and people watched. We decided that as it was later in the day we would merely crash on the beach. Jackie was concerned we had no towels or rugs etc. Nothing upon which to rest our heads. Within minutes I piled up a few stones, found a large concave rock to act as a pillow and hey presto. She wasn’t that impressed until she tried it then lay there for the next two hours.

View of the campsite from the beach.

Another exploratory walk took us to the headland of the bay. The beach was now pretty busy. The strange thing, perhaps not, is that on all the access points onto the beach which appear perhaps every 6/700 metres it is hear they sit. It’s almost as if as soon as their feet hit the sand from the tarmac, they drop their beach towels and dig in. Walk another 1/200 meters and you have the beach to yourself. Sheeple.

Late evening or was it early morning?

Dinner tonight was some of Angie’s soup she had made and frozen for us into a plastic container.                                     

We turned in at 2225hrs.

Early tonight. No bad influences by the Steers up till gone midnight drinking!

Just as Mike was about to drop off three fireworks went off somewhere.

That was the sum total of the ‘Fete Nationale’ celebrations. Bastille Day was over for another year.

     

Day 45 Thursday 13^th July 2017       From: Les Combrands  To: Les Combrands

Mile: 16530   Daily:   0000      Meteo:    Overcast and fresh.

Today after a rather overcast and windy morning we took ourselves into 'town' for something to eat. As usual Andy drove. We Stopportons suggested they as locals knew where we could eat and left the decision to them. It seems that neither Andy nor Lal were on the same page on 'the menu'. They both had different restaurants in mind but had not conferred. Thus when Andy went speeding past the resto Lal thought she was headed for, sorry speeding and Andy should not and never has been  written in the same sentence, they then decided to confer. Anyway Andy had the wheel and so we drove around for another hour or so until we found the resto Lal was 'headed' for. We piled out of the car and into the restaurant. It was late by now and Mike thought we would be turned away. We were! Back into the car 'speed 'past the first resto Lal hoped to visit, also now closed and back into Coulon. We parked. "Isn't this where you spent hours in that antique shop yesterday Andy"? someone asked. Andy all innocent replied "Oh, is it"? Lal laid down the law. "We're getting lunch before anything else". Lunch? It was very nearly supper time. OK, I exaggerate a bit but we were all Hank Marvin.

The view from our table out onto the river.

We walked towards the river.

Today it was quite busy, families were about and there was a pleasantly relaxed atmosphere to the riverside walks.

We spotted a café/bar which on enquiring was happy to serve salads, pate, toast etc. Not what we had originally envisaged for lunch for but hey. The food we ordered and the location was all pretty good.

Enjoying lunch.

Exiting the Resto

The guy who served us here as were all the other staff most obliging and very friendly.

We were told about the fireworks in the square later tonight to celebrate 'Fete National' and were even invited to attend.

We knew that tonight though we had an invitation to Pascal's house for cake and wine.

We returned home.

As we had not had a huge lunch somebody suggested a BBQ. This is Andy's speciality. He lit the BBQ and whilst we waited for the food to cook we boys wandered off. Lal's shouts of 'the grubs on fire' brought us back toute suit.

It was early evening and we had not long sat down to eat. As usual Pascal arrived part way through our meal. Sometimes this can be a bit frustrating but he's an OK Joe. We merely sit him at the end of the table give him a drink and offer him to pick away at the BBQ ribs.

Bernard calls with wife Dominic and granddaughters. The girls are about 9 and 15. Difficult to tell. We are all introduced and the girls lean towards me to offer their cheeks, we have the usual French double kiss, Dominic approaches and I do not know whether to shake hands or kiss. She pushes my hand away and we kiss cheeks. Can't get over these French customs. So unlike our staid English ways.

We are happy Bernard arrived after Pascal because although we had an invitation to take cake with Pascal he did not specify a time and Bernard had told Lal he would call around sometime in the evening. She was on the horns of a dilemma but this had resolved itself. We could obviously not go to Pascal's until Bernard departed. Whilst we all sat and chatted Andy took the girls into the field and they had a great time flying his remote model aeroplane.

It was getting darker and later. Eventually Bernard and the girls left for the local firework display. It was now darkish and pretty late. "Right" says Pascal "lets go to my place". "What" thought I "at this time of night"?

Anyway off we traipse, somewhat inebriated with the amount of wine that had been flowing. Pascal took us to the look at the veg patch on the other side of the canal he tends then further down into the forest along tracks to other woods he owns and cuts for timber. It is at this juncture that we realise Lal is wandering around in her bathing suit still. The shameless hussy. There is a photo somewhere but fortunately for Lal I cannot find it of her 'stood standing' like a contestant in a Miss France competition. Meanwhile Pascal is telling us of wood thieves and rabbits and hares which all conspire to steal from his woodpile or eat his crops. A goodly proportion of what he grows he feeds to his Pig. "Pig"? Jackie enquires. Next stop the pig shed.

Lal is against the idea of the pig held in it's pen being reared for bacon. Her standing Joke with Pascal is that she will creep over in the dead of night soon and 'liberate' the pig. Pascal's tales of hanging the pig on the tractor forks, killing, bleeding and cutting it up for the freezers turns the girls off. He also proudly shows us the three freezers, empty, waiting the date in November when the deed will be done. The pig is kept in a largish clean stall with plenty of food, to fatten him, it is not free range though.

Pascal with Lal about to cut the cake.

Now we are off into his maison for drinks. Here we meet Axel his son. A lovely chap like his Dad. Speaks pretty good English and soon we have consumed several bottles of wine. He keeps a large collection of model tractors, many of which he buys on E bay from England! There is much telling of jokes and merriment. The pig features heavily and Pascal is quick to remind Lal, as she is 'biting' that soon he will be in the 'micron' being cooked.

He is also very proud of his antique shotgun, handed down from his grandpere. It has lovely scrolling on the area of the breech and lovely walnut furniture. It is now well past midnight and we are conscious that although tomorrow is a National Holiday for Pascal it is work as normal. He has agreed to help out an 'amis'. We take our leave. The Stopporton's will not see him again this trip for we depart in the morning. He gives us both a great hug and offers his e mail address. All promising to keep in touch.

We stumble back through the bushes through the rear of our respective gardens and the Stopportons crash out in the camper. "No need to get up too early in the morning". was the last thing I remember Lal shouting over.

The Old Farmhouse at 31 Les Combrands

La Ferme á Combrands.

We had ben invited by Lal and Andy to call in and stay for a few days if we were passing! What a lovely phrase, "If you are passing" here we are in a country four times the size of the UK and we found ourselves 'passing'. What the Stopportons won't do for a free meal!

This area is ideal if you like peace and solitude, canal path walks and cycle rides and the occasional 'punt'. There are very few restaurants and what there are you need to travel a bit to get to 'em. The beach is only about an hour away if that's your thing and Rochefort with all it's associate attractions about an hour as well.

We loved it here. Chilling. Walking out the rear blue gate, on Andy's to do list as it's pretty rotten and fallen off it's hinges, you are taken over a small canal and onto the dyke. Here you can walk or cycle in either direction. Either way will eventually take you to a large canal, river or water system. Here it is possible to hire electric motor boats, canoes or punts.

The house is believed to have been built some time in the late 1800's. During WW2 it has been said that it was quarters for two German officers. It has a large 'field' attached to the house and outbuildings. Many now in a state of disrepair. It needs someone with some DIY skills and some time on their hands to put a few things right!

It can be rented I believe if one was interested.

The roof to this attached barn has gone in two years.

Attached cowshed. Roof again gone, walls falling out.

.

Side entrance. Not used

The 'hangar' and Pascal's tractor.

From the blue gate looking forward into the field.

Looking back towards our blue gate from the canals.

Crossing our bridge over the first of the smaller canals.

Looking over the second small canal towards Pascal's veg plot.

The Dyke between the two small canals.

Lal, a domestic goddess hard at work in La Cuisine.

Lounge. Seldom used as you can imagine.

That's all folks. Time to move on.

Day 44 Wednesday 12^th July 2017

From: Les Combrands  To: Les Combrands

Mile: 16530   Daily:   0000        Meteo:    Overcast and fresh.

Today after a fairly relaxed stay around the farmhouse we took a drive into Coulon.               

Things in the village were pretty quiet. Andy took us to a ‘Brocante’ or antiques shop. Here he was in his element with all sorts of boxes and shelves to rummage through and numerous goodies for purchase. We others, promising to collect him later went across the road to the boulangerie and bought bread and cakes, into another shop to check out the local ‘Donkey Head’ wines and beers, into the dress shop next to that and then returning to the Brocante, Andy seemingly hadn’t moved. Lal deciding she needed to drag him out of the shop, disappeared inside also. Mike and Jackie walked to a nearby seat and sat. Eventually the Steers arrived. Andy had a large brown paper bag clutched tightly to his chest. Who remembers Spencer Tracey’s film about Rogers Rangers? Anyway, no amount of cajoling would entreat Andy to show and tell the contents of his bag.”Wait till we get home”, was all he would say.

If you look carefully at the painting below, this is Andy walking into the Brocante in 1925. Not twenty-five minutes past seven but the year. Compare this to the photo I took of the street today and Andy is just visible exiting the shop in 2017.

Tell me I'm not imagining that. Or did it just seem like we were waiting an eternity. 

As we stood to leave a couple of older guys approached and one started chatting away in French. Lal, in her best French, apologised and said we don’t speak French. Mike persisted and asked Monsieur to repeat but slowly. He was a character who spoke no English. His companion spoke some and would interpret when needed. We think he was slightly embarrassed when the subject of Macron and Trump was raised. At the mention of Macrons name the first old guy, who could speak no English, would squat and screw his face. We could only assume he did not vote for Macron. Mention Le Pen's name and you had a totally different reaction. Again, this would cause his companion to wince at the embarrassment of his gesticulations. I wouldn't have thought he could move his hips that fast or well! This brought howls of laughter from us less sophisticated Brits much to the old boys delight.

Back to the farm for some late lunch and a siesta. For some! Not Mike I hasten to add. This was merely shot for effect.

Bet you can't guess what's for dinner this evening

Have you guessed what it is yet?

Just 'kiding'

Day 43 Tuesday 11^th July 2017      From: Rochefort.  To: Les Combrands

Mile: 16482-16530       Daily: 48         Meteo: Hot and sunny.             

Today we are to visit with Lal and Andy at their converted French Ferme. This is in the Charente Maritime region and should only be about an hour’s drive away. We had to return the two security door tags to reception and Mike made a point of saying how much we had enjoyed our stay, also commenting on the good works they were doing in providing various eco solutions for us visitors. This surprisingly brought a smile to the three female staff members on duty. It might also have been my grasping for the correct words in French.

We were headed for the small hamlet of Les Combrands. This lies to the W of Niort. We would drive N to meet with the N11 just outside La Rochelle then swing E as far as Courcon then continue N to La Ronde then W to Taugon then to 31 Combrands. Lal and Andy had promised to tie various coloured balloons at the last couple of road junctions to guide us in. We were, after all, in bandit country. With Jackie navigating, it was no problem. The only issue was accessing their gate onto the property. There was a telephone cable dangling far too low to give me clearance and I would need a couple of shunts to get off the narrow farm road and into the field.

Andy and Lal appeared, they had been sunning themselves on their chairs relaxing. Andy had the low wire problem solved in a flash. Ball of string, small stone tied on the end, loop around the offended line and hoist it up out of the way and tie it off. Simples.

No sooner had we alighted than Lal had a gin and tonic for Jackie and a beer for me. We sat for a while and exchanged a few stories about recent adventures. Then Andy took me on a trip of the farm. The old farm building was owned by a friend in Plymouth and ‘The Steers’ had been coming here for the last six years. There were a few outbuildings, medium sized stone sheds in various states of repair, a cattle feeding shippon and another attached barn. Most of these were in an advanced state of deterioration.

This ‘marais land’ is basically reclaimed marsh. As such the ground gets wet in the winter months and dries out considerably in the summer. Some of the cracks and holes in the ‘field’ attached to the house you could lose a Land Rover and trailer in. If that was not bad enough there was ample evidence of ground and structural movement on the property. Andy had noted much deteriation in the last six years.

I had seen photos taken two years ago of Andy working on the roof of the attached barn. Now all that remained was a few wooden beams. Walls which he had rebuilt that same period or attempted to repair had since fallen over. Other walls were bowed out, their capping stones loose. Door frames no longer sat square and shutters could be seen hanging from rusted hinges.

The main house was in itself a fine structure. Plenty of space within the various rooms. The kitchen / dining room was huge. This would be where we would take meals if not outside and where Lal would entertain neighbours.

Evidence of Andy’s latest self-imposed works were obvious. He had been pruning with a chain saw the fifty meters or so row of trees that marked the drive down to the house. Many of these trees were ‘shaky plums’. That, to you townies is an edible plum tree, that when you gently shake a branch, the ripe plums fall. They were delicious. Not a sour plum anywhere. In addition, there were pear and quince trees all heavily laden with fruit. Surprisingly no apple trees.  Away in the far corner behind the house Andy had piled the old boughs and branches ready for a winter burn. It was as large as a sponsored bonfire for November the fifth. Quite who would carry out this task was uncertain. The owner who visited twice, maybe three times a year, was not that ‘handy’ and as many of the visiting friends and colleagues were here on holiday they adopted the line of thought that any ‘work’ around the house was someone else’s job.He had been pruning, with a chain saw

Bet you can't guess what's for lunch!

Soon we boys were called in from our architectural detective work as dinner was ready. Another feast following hard on the heels of a beautiful green salad lunch. After which we were taken through the rear blue gate, over ‘our’ small bridge over the tiny canal and onto the dyke. This dyke separated one small canal from the other. We walked for half a mile to what seemed at first glance a rather ramshackle dwelling. This building, it transpired was owned by Bernard.

Look closely, evidence of one of Andy's BBQ's.

An English speaking Frenchman Lal hoped we would meet later  in the week. It belonged to his father many years ago. Bernard now in retirement visits weekends and enjoys the peace and solitude it offers. He was gradually renovating the property. Perhaps a two up two down. There was no running water, no drains, no electricity and no sewer connection. Not even a fosse septique. Neither would there ever be. Lal had brought us here to see the catfish ‘Poisson chat’ which lived here in hundreds. They were a nuisance as they were predatory on all other fish in these tiny canals. Alas today none were evident. In part due to the corn having been cut in the field opposite and a layer of cereal dust lay thick over the water. That, and the green algae.

We returned to the farm house. Where we sat in the warmth of the last of the sun’s rays and had a quiet drink. It was then that Pascal arrived. He lives in a ‘cottage’ the next but one house up. Next door was virtually derelict as Madame had been taken into care and the son who usually called around to cut the grass and tend to the veg patch had himself died. Heart attack. In this climate mother nature soon re-establishes her dominance.

Strangely Pascal’s plot and rear garden was linked via a gate with Lal and Andy’s property beyond ‘the hanger’ on the farmhouse land, where Pascal kept his Massey Ferguson. It was a habit that he would call around most evenings for a chat. Now Pascal’s English was on a par with Andy’s French. Non-existent. Lal by her own admission was struggling with her French. However, as men, and indeed women do they managed to communicate. Especially when last year Pascal needed some muscle to rebuild his bridge over the second canal to cross to his veg plot. Whom did he call upon? Andy.

We were introduced as ‘amis’, Pascal was offered some rose and we sat for another hour chatting. How? Nobody knew but it was all very pleasant. Soon Pascal told us he must go as he had work in the morning and needed to be up at 0500hrs. We believe he assisted a local mason, did various odd jobs, including cutting the grass on ‘the field’ beside Lal’s house. He would also coppice trees on his land to the rear of his small holding which he would sell for fire wood. He promised to call again tomorrow evening after work.  It was soon bedtime.