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?

Day 40 St George d Dideonne   To:  Isle de Olorone                                            Open:16389  Close: 16455

                            
Date:  Saturday 8th July 2017  Weather: Grey rain in am. Sunny pm.   Mile: 66


Early start as both the Isle de Olorone and the Isle de Rae are very popular destinations and very busy at weekends. It has been suggested that we get over the bridge before 1000hrs as any later might result in tail backs and queues.

The latter early hours of this morning saw a thunder and lightning storm, the like of which I have not experienced in many a long year. The thunderclaps literally shook the van. The rain was torrential. Our destination today was Isle de Oleron, various spellings it seems. Jackie had plotted the route last night. We decided to go with our French neighbour’s suggestion of Huttes on the NW tip of the island of Oleron. Angie had suggested somewhere near the lighthouse at Chassiron, on the most Northerly point. Things started to go slightly adrift with the seafront route we had decided upon was flooded to a depth of 33cm. As we arrived the old bill was just setting up road blocks and the pompieres had arrived with hoses etc. A quick detour, suggested by my trusty navigator and we were soon back on course.

It was a Saturday, it was still raining and the skies were threatening still with ever darker grey clouds. To top it all we were now at the causeway bridge onto the island and traffic was slowing.

Fort Louvois in the Gironde. 17 Century.

Don’t panic Mr Mainwaring, it was caused by damn tourists slowing to snap photos of the wide expanse of water over which we were passing. The queues would come later! The fuel was down to quarter tank and I thought it best refuel fairly soon. Goodness knows what this island has in store! With that a LeClerck fuel station was spotted. E1-12 a litre for gasoile. We filled her up with E70. It had now stopped raining and the sun was out. Starting to warm things up. There is only one main road, the D734. That is after you leave the D26. In the five weeks we have currently been in France we have never seen so much traffic it was pouring off the island. Well at least it was headed South, down this, the only road. It ran for miles. Mike was starting to get a little concerned. We had not signed up for crowds!

The sign for Les Huttes came up, we turned and started looking for the campsite. Nothing. We found the one advertised in our www.CamperContact.com site. Boasting 120 emplacements. It looked like a gypsie encampment. We both said we would not park there. We were nowhere near a beach or seemingly much else of interest. We drove up and down through two or three little hamlets, passing the plod in his Gendarmerie car on each of three occasions. He’s bound to pull us in a mo I thought.

We pulled into one camp site alongside the dunes, it didn’t look to tidy and she wanted E29 per night for us. We reversed out pretty quick. The next camp site looked even worse. The main sign stated camping cars but there was nothing mentioned on the tariff board. It too looked seedy. We reversed out of that one as well. We decided to kick this North part of the island into touch and headed for Le Chateau. On the SE side. This was a second choice of our neighbour’s.

Passing a LeClerk superstore we pulled in. We needed salad, milk, panache and gin. The place was heaving and I mean rammed. Barely any spaces in the huge carpark. Against my better judgement we collected a trolley and joined the ‘shepple’.

Twice I suggested to Jackie we abandon the trolley and walk out but this was ignored. We, she, Jackie, was desperate for Gin. They had Tanqueray Export for E16-32 (£11) At least we will be able to taste the gin tonight. We had, in desperation, bought some Super U gin but you needed to put so much into a glass to taste it. Why bother buying ‘cheap’?

If one is drinking gin it must be a quality product, with ice and a slice. Either lemon, lime or the newest way to drink it is with cucumber, especially the more artisan gins. Oh, and a good quality tonic. Fevertree Mediterranean flavour for preference by the Stopportons or good old-fashioned Schweppes. Full fat!

With hardly anything in the world’s largest shopping trolley we headed for the checkouts. I noticed whilst waiting, why do I always pick the shortest queue but with the most problems requiring a supervisor to intervene? I notice that virtually all the staff on the tills are young early, late teens and female. Most of them pretty as well. Not an old growler to be seen or an old fart, retired and back on the payroll looking for beer money with a permanent scowl and zero interest in my jokes. All these seemed to be smiling as well. Of course, it might just have been me they were smiling at I suppose!

Glamping is available at Le Chateau aire and campsite.

The Ice Cream Lorry parked under the trees.

Next stop Le Chateau Municipal camp site. We arrived at 1300hrs. It was closed for lunch. Sacre bleu. It reopens at 1400hrs. We recce the camp pick out a few spots and walk down to the beach. Beach? That’s a joke. Here as on this coast it’s very tidal. The water ‘drains’ back a long long way. There was a long 6 metre wide strip of golden sand then it went straight down into the mud. Found everywhere in and around the Gironde. Great area for growing Oysters mussels etc but not too good for paddling your toes. Immediately behind the beach the local council had dug an artificial lake with a ‘sandy beach’, picnic tables etc which was watched over by two lifeguards. They were facing inland! Seems crazy.

Returning to the car park outside the reception barrier, there were now ten or more campers waiting to pay and enter. We joined the queue. Every person that booked in was given a map of the site then Le Guardien would explain where the WCs, showers, pedestrian gates, play area, beach etc etc was on the map. It was taking ages. Gradually I drew closer to the desk. The guy in front of me paid and moved off. It was my turn. I launched into my spiel for booking in and requirements. He produced ‘la carte’ and started to explain…. I placed my hand on his arm and said “Monsieur, Je ecouter votre dit au prealable avec monsieur”. His face lit up in a huge smile followed by “Merci beaucoup, monsieur”. I think he was as relieved not to have to repeat himself yet again as I was to not here it.

As we finished setting up another English registered wagon parked opposite. We gave them some time to settle in and went over for a chat. They also had a dog in tow. She was keen to natter on but he was very quiet and withdrawn.

The rest of the day we spent lazing under the shade of the tree. What had been very cold and stormy to start with was now a gorgeous afternoon and evening.

Day 39 St George d Dideonne   To:  St George d Dideonne                               Open:16389  Close:  16389

                            
Date:  Friday 7th July 2017  Weather:  Sunny and Damn hot.   Mile: 000

We had a lazy start to the morning due to the heat. We took breakfast under the trees at the rear of the van. A little after 1100 hrs we loaded our swimmies into our bergans and made our way to the beach. We decided against our local beach as there was considerably more to hold our attention at the main ‘plage’ at St George should our interest in our books wane.

Jackie is currently in the South Atlantic with Shackleton and his crew and after every few pages looks up to say “You can’t believe what’s happening now!” In desperation, I reply “I can because I’ve read the book numerous times”. It is hot on the beach, it is wide with a considerable tabb down to the water’s edge when the tide is out. It also stretches away into the distance. We find a spot. Why, even on a deserted beach, does one wander about kicking the sand saying “Waddya think?” One bit of beach is much the same as the next surely? Having decided, ‘This is the place’ out comes the beach rug, beach towels, drinks, sun cream, books etc. I settle down to check out who else is on the beach. At this time of day, believe it or not it is still pretty empty. Well given the size of the beach anyway.

The guys selling rentals on the jet skis are doing good business and I am tempted to have a go but the noise they create I think is so anti-social. Perhaps another day. I am conscious there might be much buffeting! The Water powered boots on the modified jet ski seems popular with the young studs. Whilst Jackie swims I paddle around. There is some taunting but I resist the urge to dive in. It’s very warm in the water but I do not yet feel like swimming.

We walk off the beach to a fast food counter in search of some sarnies. That would be the slightly healthier option but Mike spots a Crocque Monsieur and settles on that. Of all the other fresh sandwiches on display and available Jackie also plumps for the same but with a can of Gini. Lemonade. Returning to the beach we set about lunch. It was disappointing. Mainly because of the white bread we suspect. Still it filled a gap.

The afternoon wore on and the place started to fill. Far too many of the ladies’ present, young and older seemed to have forgotten to pack their bikini tops. Thank goodness for mirror fronted sun glasses.

1745 hrs and we needed a beer. It was a short walk off the beach to the ‘place’ here we stopped at the first bar we came to. As usual the waiter was immediately upon us. We ordered un pression and un Monaco.

There was a pleasant breeze blowing through the square. The cold drinks slipped down a treat. We ordered ‘encore’. It was then we notice a ‘young lady’ sat in the corner. Jackie had her doubts. Me? I thought it was merely a woman with a rather severely styled haircut. The most curious factor was the three miniature dogs ‘she’ had with her. Two in some sort of handbag and one on the seat beside her. These guys would yap away at any other dog that passed. Regardless of size. This was then her cue to pick each one up in turn, kiss it and make some sort of cooing noise.

Every time I turned around to clock ‘her’ she seemed to be staring at me. I was intrigued. I said to Jackie I would go over, have a chat and see ‘what was what’. You can’t even order a pizza without getting yourself into trouble. What happens if ‘she’ is a tranny. “Well,” said I “If ‘she’s’ stood at the mirror in the morning having a shave before me that’ll confirm it”. With that Jackie grabbed me by the ear and we made our way back to the van.

Sundowners was a gin and tonic followed by salad for dinner tonight. Our next-door neighbour called over for a chat. He to practice his English, me my French. It always amazes me how much communication can be exchanged with a willingness to try. How much of it is, as we think it to be of course is open to much interpretation!

Day 38 Meschers   To:  St George d Didionne Open:16381  Close:  16389

                            
Date:  Thursday 6th July 2017  Weather: Overcast am. Sunny pm.   Mile: 8

We had decided last night on an early departure this am. We had made a point of telling our Dutch neighbours we were off in the morning, they too were leaving but at 1000hrs. Mike had thought he had paid for last night after having the previous evening free due to the bank card/ cash mc being OOO. What I didn’t realise was that I should pay at the Port office and in my defence, there was no notice telling one to pay at the office. It wasn’t until I saw a man with a clipboard, always a sign of authority, assumed or otherwise, approaching, that I followed him and paid E10. As stated, I thought for last night. I was wrong and so I thought if the bird had flown the coup before he did his rounds, I might be E10 up on the deal. The Stopporton’s were up and ready, a quick brew, reel in the electricity cable, fire up and away. Departed Meschers at 0715hrs.

Do not laugh but thirty minutes later we arrived at our next stop. Eight miles down the road at St Georges de Didonne. This was another area suggested by Tom and Angie. The aire was very near the old port and looked back across the bay towards ‘town’.

We had been spoilt by our last two nights camping spot. This was a gravel car park surrounded by trees with a path down onto the port. It had the advantage of being close to the memorial for Operation Frankton. God Bless The Royal Marines.

It was still somewhat overcast and so we took ourselves off in the direction of where we knew the lighthouse to be. Here Mike decided to set the camera up and switch on Jackie's mobil phone and it's app to control it. This took considerably longer than we had anticipated, we were in no rush but it was a learning curve. With your phone discretely hidden you can control the on/off function of the camera and take photos. This camera will also link to WiFi and send the photo you have just taken via your phones e mail system to an e address.

Clever stuff these Panasonic cameras.

The camera was balanced somewhat precariously on the harbour wall. Mike squinting through the sun to see the screen on the phone, my sunglasses are that good I cant see a pc/camera screen with them on, takes the shot but on looking up to his horror cannot see the camera on the wall. "Where is it?" he asks in desperation. "Oh, it fell off the wall when you remotely switched it on and the lens extended". Jackie replied deadpan. Of course she was joking. The glare had prevented me from seeing it.

We walked up a few steps to the lighthouse. A sign proclaimed that we could, for the sum of E1 climb the narrow and step steps to the top for the view. Fortunately we could not find the 'guardian' and so had to pass. Mike was relieved! The memorial to Operation Frankton was another few hundred metres along the coast path. High above the sea. We were now at the mouth of the Gironde and opposite we could just about make out the lighthouse at Le Pointe de Grave.

Operation Frankton was a commando raid on shipping in the German occupied French port of Bordeaux in southwest France during the Second World War on 7-12 December 1942. The raid was carried out by a small unit of Royal Marines known as the Royal Marines Boom Patrol Detachment (RMBPD), part of Combined Operations.

The plan was for six canoes to be taken to the area of the Gironde estuary by submarine. They would then paddle by night to Bordeaux. On arrival they would attack the docked cargo ships with limpet mines and then escape overland to Spain. Twelve men from no.1 section were selected for the raid; including the commanding officer, Herbert 'Blondie' Hasler, and with the reserve Marine Colley the total of the team numbered thirteen. One canoe was damaged while being deployed from the submarine and it and its crew therefore could not take part in the mission. Only two of the 10 men who launched from the submarine survived the raid: Hasler, and his no.2 in the canoe, Bill Sparks. Of the other eight, six were executed by the Germans while two died from hypothermia.

The British Prime Minister Winston Churchill believed the mission shortened the war by six months.The words of Lord Mountbatten, the commander of Combined Operations, are carved into a Purbeck stone at Royal Marines Poole (current headquarters of the SBS): "Of the many brave and dashing raids carried out by the men of Combined Operations Command none was more courageous or imaginative than Operation Frankton".

Paddy Ashdown, himself a Royal Marines Captain with the SBS, now retired, wrote a vey well researched and balanced book dealing with all aspects of this raid including the cock ups. Check out Amazon. Or ask if you can borrow my copy.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Brilliant-Little-Operation-Cockleshell-Courageous/dp/1781311250 

 

From the memorial which had quite a few visitors we walked along the promenade past the lighthouse and old fishing port onto the main esplanade of the town. This again is wide, cycle routes for bikes and pedestrians. Plenty of modern sculptured seats, flower beds and total cleanliness made for a pleasant walk.

We were now a tadge peckish. We walked off the esplanade and into the high street not far away. Here one could see the villages/town's origin. Small narrow streets old fishing cottages etc.  We entered a small boulangerie. On sale were some mini pizzas and Mike had spotted some flan. That'll do. I ordered. All was going well until Mamselle asked me something. Obviously to do with the various types of pizza. Not understanding I grinned, pointed and said "Deux" This target indication was insufficient for Mamselle who then asks me in English,  "Do you speak English?" I replied in English, "Yes do you speak French?" To which she replied "Bien sur". "Bon". said I then continued in my pantomime French to narrow down the choices of the six available flavours of pizza.

We returned to the esplanade and ate our scran sat on the seat overlooking the huge expanse of beach. This is a very large bay. After 'lunch' we walked along the seashore paddling our feet then spread the towels and chilled for the rest of the afternoon.

"Like a young Brigit Bardot"

Everyone takes 'Selfies' these days.

Day 37 Meschers   To:  Meschers  Open:16381  Close:  16381

                            
Date:  Wednesday 5th July 2017       Weather: Sunny and hot.   Mile:  000

Awoke to light rain pattering on the roof. Unbelievable as we had to open all the windows last night to get more air in and for the sake of modesty, whose? I know not, we threw a sheet over ourselves. By the time Jackie had made the first brew of the day, it had passed and it was bright sun again.

Mike took a quick walk to the marina to see if our friend in the Kayak who was camping nearby had put in. The tide was well out but he could follow the channel out into the Gironde to continue his journey. I could not see him.

Returning to the truck Jackie had breakfast on the go. Today we are on Momma’s Instant porridge with raisins and cranberries. Now I know there are those of you who will throw their hands up in horror at the thought but these individual packets can be tipped into a mug with some added boiling water and hey presto it’s not a bad bit of grub. Handy in a bergan if weight is a consideration!

We decided we would walk the short distance into the town centre to get some ‘fresh’. As I stood outside waiting for Jackie, an old Netherlander registered Hymer reverses in. They are an older couple. I look across and in my best Dutch accent say ‘Good dag’ He replies with “You are English” I reply “Yes, no need for me to speak to you in any other language all Netherlanders speak good English”. He laughs, “Well I do but my wife does not”. Forty minutes later I must break away from him as I tell him the shops will be closed for lunch and we need to buy salad items. I promise we will speak later. He is a great character with a good sense of humour.

This date commemorates The Battle of Mang Yang pass.

It was the last battle of the first Indo-China war. Costly to the French!

The lock gates are still closed as we approach. On the far side a woman looks somewhat hesitantly at the lock gate bridge. As we step off the bridge on her side we exchange pleasantries and she asks can she get back if the gates open. “Bien sur” I reply ‘promenade sur la sentier de la port”. I tell you the locals think I’m as French as they are. Well that was until we arrived in the market square and attempted to buy fresh olives, stuffed chillies and fresh dates.

‘We always buy fresh dates when passing through Dubai Airport’ Ask me about this story next time you see me! Make sure you have an hour spare though. Otherwise it might be as well not to mention it!

Meanwhile back at the olive stall. The transaction, all but finished, the stallholder is asking me a question. I thought he said are you from ‘Londres’ ‘Mais no, a Plymouth” I reply “No no no” he replies with obvious frustration and repeats the question. It made no difference I still did not understand. Jackie suggests he is asking if we are Dutch and from the Nederland’s. “Don’t be daft”. I reply “Qui, qui, Nederlands” he replies with a look of total accomplishment on his face. He must have thought at last I’ve gotten through to these ‘Cloggies’ This, his moment of joy was dashed when I proudly proclaimed “Juis suis Anglais, j’habitex Angleterre”. A gallic shrug was now thrown into the conversation this I took to mean ‘forget it’ and we all wished each other “Bonne journee”. First time my French has ever been taken as that bad I was speaking with a Dutch accent!

We wandered around the various open air market stalls buying salad items, fruit and  some artisan ficelle. There was however no fromage stall so we took off into the high street and found a Co-op selling Super U products. Perhaps they are one and the same here. We bought another Donkey post card to post to Callum. A joke twixt him and Grumpy then made our way back for lunch. On the way we passed madame, whom we had chatted to ‘at the bridge’ earlier, she was on the other side of the road. That didn’t stop me from shouting across “Bonjour Madame”. God bless her.

She smiled back and said “Bonne journee”.

Back at the truck we prepped lunch which was a simply amazing salad with a glass of chilled white each. When you consider everything we bought today came to E54 enough for several meals and snacks over the next few days and yesterday’s lunch was E63 it is obvious where money will go if eating out each day. Also remember that a set, or limited choice lunch menu is ‘always’ cheaper than dinner. I’m not complaining you understand!

The day is now hot. We laze under the trees behind the camper reading and watching mother duck swim past. Alarm! There are only nine ducklings today. One of our ducklings is missing!  

1800hrs and we take ourselves off for a walk. The circus has a show starting now so we wander over to see the staff, dressed in their costumes. Even a very young 4 year old was dressed in a Ringmasters red uniform. The music was blaring out through loudspeakers and the animals seemed to sense it was ‘showtime’. The whole thing reminded me of Clint Eastwood’s film ‘Bronco Billy McCoy’. Billy Smarts it ain’t.

The Dutch couple beside us, he 77 she 74 were as amusing as ever. He spoke very good English she none. We spent many a half hour throughout the day chatting laughing and giggling. He insisted we make note of his all natural medicines and pills made from mussels. These he assured us had cured his rheumatism on his knee joints. A few months ago he could barely walk, now he was pretty mobile. Probably moving better than Mike at this stage.

We were delighted to receive from Les photos of him and Mel in their Canadian canoe in brilliant sunlight on the Tamar. Not. That only reminds us all too sharply that we have much catching up to do before we move to Sweden in August for our seven days canoe and wild camp! In anticipation of this

    

 

I have walked around the marina a couple of times today. I did weaken in the early evening and succumb to temptation and have an ice cream with Jackie. Crème Brule flavour. It was delicious.

  

I love these old soft top cars. Very rare in France now. Ideal for running around town in the gorgeous weather they have.

  

Day 36 Mortagne-sur-Gironde  To:  Meschers  Open:16368  Close:  16381

                            
Date:  Tuesday 4th July 2017       Weather:  Brighter, sunny periods   Mile:  13

We drove off our camping spot at Montagne-sur-mer at 1115hrs and headed for the other side of the estuary towards the boatyard and the Camping Car ‘Aire Service’. Here we could open the grey waste water tank valves to discharge, remove the WC cassette and dump down the drain and most importantly, for the sum of E1 we could take on two minutes of fresh water to fill our FW tank. We have this off to a pretty fine art now. Today there is no rush. There is no queue at this late hour. Earlier or at the busier Aire Services you need to be quick on your toes. It’s akin to a ‘hot refuel’. Well Ok I do switch off the engine but in all other respects it’s pretty-slick. Having already retrieved the 15 metre cassette of lay flat hose from the boot, the procedure goes something like this.

Ignition off. Handbrake on. Jackie leaps out with cassette hose and fully unreels ensuring no kinks. Unlocks the water fill point in the van inserts one end of the hose then connects the other end to the tap. Slips a Euro into the coin slot and holds onto the hose in the filling point till full. On completion she reverses the procedure and returns to seat in van.

Mike meanwhile has exited the vehicle, as usual catching his shorts over the handbrake handle and hanging there helpless for a while. Legs and arms flailing. On release, he moves to the WC cassette locker and removes the cassette, moves to the drain and unscrewing the discharge cap from the cassette empties the contents down the drain. Watch out for splash back! Then rinsing the cassette several times using the rinse tap, not the l’eau potable tap, wipe it dry with disposable tissue, place a litre of clean water inside, add 60ml of chemical, return the cassette to the WC locker wipe down hands and area with bacticidal wipes and return to the cab. Power up and drive off. Simples. Should Jackie be driving and I navigating we retain the same role. It’s just that she never seems to get hung up on the handbrake. Probably ‘cos her shorts are better fitting than mine.

We take the D145 coast road towards our next stop Meschers-sur-Gironde. We hope to be able to find a spot on the ‘port’ again next to a small marina. Angie and Tom had her birthday lunch here a few weeks ago and they thought it delightful so we decided to give it a try.

I was a little concerned as it was lunchtimeish and most of the spaces on the smaller ‘Aires’ fill by mid morning. We arrived at 1230hrs hours and to our amazement there were a few spaces. I reversed into one. We were backed onto a grassed area with a small stream further back. The circus was in town and parked opposite us. As we looked out the window a couple of camels looked back in. Off to one side we could see Llamas and various other animals grazing. It is E10 a night to stay here including a good electric hook up. Unfortunately the machine was ‘casse’, broken. A notice stated ‘No bank cards’ and the coin slot for E’s was jammed solid with paper. Well that’s it then a free stay ce soir.

Off to find Angie and Tom’s Restaurant ‘Le Moussaillon’ With the tide on the way in the lock gates to the marina are still closed so we walk across the lock gates, a shortcut and walk past the ten or so eating establishments. There is at this point only one road and it leads to a small car park at the end of the road which parallels the outlet from the marina to the Gironde, next to a tiny beach. There on the next to end but one is the Resto we are seeking.

It’s pretty empty but we are early. We sit and attempt to decipher the menu. Fifty percent we can understand the other fifty? No chance. My ‘petite question’ to what various things were elicited a reply which made no sense to me so we just went for it. The Panache and Kir arrived ‘tout suite’. Followed not long after by a carafe of house white which Angie insisted we try as she thought it the best ever. Well that’s subjective! We had opted for a three course set meal at E24 each. I had ten large scrimps with a cream sauce and Jackie, well we’re not sure what. I thought it was a warm goat salad but think I managed to misinterpret the menu. Checking later we discovered it was 'gizzards' the throat and neck. Jackie thought it was delicious. I suspect if she new what it was she wouldn't have even ordered it. My main was steak and frites. The steak I had bien cur and the chips were skin on curlies. Bootifull. Jackie had a delicious salmon with marrow and veggies followed by lemon meringue and I a Choco sponge with crème anglais. The grand total E63 £40 quid. More than enough for lunch. It was pleasant sat here looking onto the river and out to sea. Across from our table we could see the fishermen in those quaint sheds on stilts with the square nets on pulleys. How much luck they were having remains to be seen.

The marina. Can you spot Mummy duck and the ducklings?

Standing on the lock gates looking seaward.

The return to the van was slightly longer as now the tide was fully in and the lock gates open. This allow free access from and to the marina behind the gates. Thus no short cut for us but it gave us the opportunity to walk past more circus animals grazing on common land. Didn’t see any lions, tigers or elephants!

Mum plus ten. Tomorrow? It'll be only nine I'm afraid.

The remainder of the day till 1900hrs we spent sat in the sun or under the shade by the van reading and chilling, watching mummy duck swim up and down our stream with the ducklings. Then with the cool of the evening we went for a short walk onto the point and gazed across the Gironde. Here we are near to the mouth of the river, and it is a damn wide river. When the tide is out you have hundreds of metres of mud flats. Not easy dragging a Klepper over that and not leaving tracks for the Germans to spot if you’re on a commando raid into Bordeaux! It was at this point that we spotted a lone Kayaker pulling his canoe on a trolley. I approached and started chatting. He confirmed it was him we saw come ashore yesterday at Montagne. He was a student from Bordeaux and was conducting a small survey of some description of the estuary for a summer thesis. I think that’s what he said. About 250 kilometres of kayaking in six or so days. He was putting ashore here to camp for the night.

We sat outside for supper. Cheese and biscuits with some fresh fruit. Still stuffed after lunch!