Oradour-sur-Glane

Route de Saint-Junien, 

87520 Oradour-sur-Glane, 

France

A visit that had to be done from memories of childhood reading. Thoughts, feelings, no words to add.

French hill billy territory!

 Soubrebost, France

What a day! What an unusual day! The photo could give clue. Will attempt to write it up in more detail. 

Most days are good but every now and again you get a day so packed with happenings and cameos you just do not know where to start.

So it was that Sadie stopped on this narrow little road through this tiny little hamlet right by a rural French  backwoodsman leaning on his gate and whose weather worn and moustached face, due to the raised level of his narrow front yard, was level with mine. He was shaking his head vigourosly from side to side while saying repeatedly. 

"non,non,non monsieur, vous et camper van premiere dans le village. Bravo. Bravo monsieur!" I think that meant I was the first motorhome he had ever seen come through the village/hamlet/about 4 houses.

I was not surprised. The road was very narrow, hilly, zig zaggy and any self respecting owner of a house on wheels would, with common sense governing the logistics, avoid it.

However; this was Steve; read common sense only makes sense if it has adventure attached to it. For Sadie read; point me and I'll go there. Add in a recklessly re programmed sat nav which has to now avoid any road that has the word 'main', 'primary', or 'where you should be going' attached to it, and you start to get where its at.

Oh but what fun! This area of hilly upland extremely rural Limousin is just brimming with traffic-less tiny wee roads. I'm in no hurry and regard myself as privileged to be enjoying the delights of such backwaters.

 And Sadie? Well, lets put it this way. We've not been stuck yet!

A sign indicating farmhouse cheese for sale tempts me at the last minute to brake and execute a very sharp left hander and up a steep farm track. It leads me deep into the bowels of what I would have described during my years travelling around farms in the UK as a 'muddly farm'. Untidy and with a veritable scrapyard of old and vintage farm machinery, cars and trucks scattered wherever you looked. Amid all this there was very smart and clean looking door, unlocked, which led into the small shop comprising of fridge full of cheeses, a big certificate which I presume said it's all OK, and a price list. Only thing missing was any sign of another human being. Tanya and I walked around amid the muddles, the chickens, the pig, the pack of dogs in their run and finally just above the farm this memorial ringed by rusting bits of an old wartime aircraft.

I had read about this and about how active the French resistance were in this area during the 2nd world war. I had already come across two memorials on the side of roads commemorating fighters who had died at those spots. This particular memorial was to a parachute mission in 1944 aimed at freeing a local town from German occupation. The plane had been damaged by anti aircraft fire and crashed into this particular hill.

The spot was a lovely clearing in among a glade of conifers. The sun was shining, the ground was dry and I'd had enough driving for one day. Sadie was duly and gingerly negotiated round the farmyard and into position in the memorial glade. One of my mottos is; if a tractor's been there I can get there....as long as its dry!

During all this time I had made my presence clear by calling out and of course by arriving in and manouvering a bloody big shiny white house on wheels through the farmyard. Not a soul in sight! And that is the way it stayed for about another hour which gave me time to settle in plus relax in the sunshine with glass of Rose.

"Aha! Noises Tanya. Sounds like missing humans have returned. Let's go get some cheese and request permission to spend the night here." So with Tanya on the lead to prevent hen and duck mayhem we walk down to the farm.

"Gosh Tanya is that not the pig we saw earlier?" Well it was but the actual pig was now in that delightful piggy heaven full of to die for mud pits and truffle beds and young frisky sows. This was a pig body lying in the middle of the track on a large sheet of tin and in the process of being expertly and cleanly butchered by swarthy Frenchy wielding very sharp knives. He was being ably assisted by Mr muddly french farmer weilding a hose and keeping everything spotlessly clean along with his farmworker. It was very apparent I was watching a group of people here to whom this was a familiar and well practised routine.

I was noticed and not an eyelid was batted. They were also quite happy for me to continue to view the proceedings. The butcher was an expert. It was like watching a real artist or craftsman at work.  'Ma famile' was summoned and thickset but cheerful muddly farmers wife in big boots appeared with young daghter in tow munching on a beefburger. They escorted me to the smart door of the shop and one small cheese was purchased which I clung onto as I returned and watched the remainder of piggy to pork transformation. It ended with the more familiar looking sides of pork all hanging neatly from pieces of baler twine hooked onto the prongs of a tractor loader which slowly headed down to another shed where I presume there was a freezer or some sort of prepared hanging area.

A fascinating and totally unexpected end to the day with congratulations all round on a good job done where my combination of leeetle french plus charades enactions plus copious smiles seemed to render me as agreeable and acceptable and 

"Est nooo problem, vous remainez a l'memoir sa soir monsieur".

I guess it is right what I used to continually be told by UK farmers. There is one EU for the French and Germans but a different one for the UK. The pig's registration ear tag, a European common market legal requirement, had been casually thrown aside. Plus, the whole concept of local on site butchery has long been a total no no in the UK due to EU legislation.

Ce la vie eh!

Bourges, allotments & leaping deer.

A gentle cough to my right prompted a removal of eyes from binoculars which were enabling the amazing detail of beautiful stained glass windows to be clearly seen. They were way above me in the imposing Bourges, Gothic Cathederal. The Rough guide was right about the 'take your binoculars' little tip.

As expected the polite cough was to gain my attention and to be gently advised. 'J'regret non chien monsieur'. Normally I am walking about with Tanya in my arms in these wonderful old places where access is free and open. She often does not get noticed. This time to be allowed a full 15 minutes seated in one place as I viewed the beautiful stained glass windows with Tanya sat close and on a tight lead was a privilege.

"Aaah!, Oui monsieur et merci beaucoup".

We slowly made our way out and continued with our day out in 'a city'. We had a lovely lunch seated in the sunshine after a walk around what I thought on the tourist office city guide was a large park or garden. The area was in fact the river meadows now squared off with numerous irrigation dykes in between of which were allotments.

Aha! You say. I know allotments. I do too but what a difference to walk this area. A space, a very large space, populated by what I can only describe as individual plots of land being loved, tended and virtually lived on by a community totally in touch with and connected deeply to, it's rural roots.

The warmth, strong sunlight, croaking toads in the irrigation ditches and Tanya elicitating as always, comments, and in one case a lovely home made biscuit, from the 2 or 3 groups of friendly Frenchies enjoying a glass of wine and their 2 hour lunch break. Well it all made for a rather special walk.

The day had a special ending too. To save time we headed out of Bourges and back to where we had stayed the night before. However; as we had left in the morning I noticed an even more inviting little track not a half mile away.

Ok! So it was a bit of a narrow track and I did have to 're-position' some of the branches to allow Sadie through. The reward was a beautiful and completely hidden forest glade that caught all of the warm,  evening sunshine. Well worth it.

There was an added bonus too. On our early morning walk the next day Tanya and I were granted the privilege of having two deer trotting and leaping into the forest having not noticed us. They did but only at the point where their next leap would have meant a collision. I don't know how the leading one did it but somehow, in mid air a forward leap changed into a backward leap and, like lightning, off they went, with by now Tanya in pursuit. She returned about half a minute later requiring acknowledgement and strokes for the wonderful job she had done in saving me from these huge and wild beasts. 

"yes, yes. Alright Tanya. Good dog!"

31 days away now. Some facts. We've done 1100 miles which averages out at 35.5 miles a day at 26.00 mpg. We've used 50 litres of lpg gas at a cost of £37.00 and have only spent £65.00 on campsite fees. All well within my budget so I am a happy bunny.

Le Batteix

Le Batteix, 23270

Châtelus-Malvaleix

Beautiful wee village well off the tourist track & in Limousin country. 

Finally succumbed to a very acceptable glass of Rose wine tonight as Tan & I sat out in the sun and watched the one car every hour go by. X

By logpiles again

Civray,
France

I am literally in the middle of the woods with accompanying logpiles. Beeeeautiful spot but bit of a bugger getting Sadie in here. Might just have to trim a few branches off trees to get her out in the morning. Worth it though. X

Traps. Etangs (ponds or man made lakes) and fish.

"Mmmmm. Think we had better not park right here, blocks the view of that trap. We'll swing Sadie round, aha, just about here will do us nicely eh Tanya!"

We were in the 'Sologne' area below the Loire river and on the way to join the Cher river, our route toward the Massif Central area of France with its Gorges and mountains as opposed to flat river plains, our home for the last couple of weeks.

The French Rough Guide says of the Sologne region: 'It's worth passing through by bike on a fine day, but there is little to see otherwise'. To be fair it does say more but that seems to be the authors general opinion. I'm finding the rough guide only marginally useful anyway as its main focus is on towns, cities, architecture, history and museums. The simple joys, beauty and pleasures of aloneness, solitude, peace and 'at oneness' with France's emptiness is not even on the menu of such guides.

So once again a conveniant, and with wide verges, lane invited us along to seek out a spot for the night. Sat nav had been earlier routed to take us to an Aire for the night but the requirement to take on water and empty 'the Telford' (toilet) had already been dealt with. Earlier in the day I had spotted an unlisted Aire with a brand new 'Junior relaise' on a recently laid out concrete base. These are specific little machines which for a small fee or 'jeton' (token) give you water and facility to empty waste water and, 'the Telford'. We parked up Sadie and walked up to 'La Poste' to buy a token.

Into 'La Poste' we walk and stand meekly just inside the door and watch the heated and rapid verbal exchange of French disagreement between the young, attractive lady behind the counter and an older man. Young attractive lady had a bodily stance clearly saying; 'that's pish, away with you and let me get on with ma job!' Older man was edging backwards in defeated but defiant retreat through a second door.  After a few minutes of this battle of wills and extreme rapid fire of all French verbal language guns the older man finally retreated completely. Young attractive lady behind the counter quickly turned and welcomed me with a beaming smile, a "Bonjour monsieur" and a change of bodily stance indicating what went before was common, normal and now firmly in the deleted forever bin. Most amusing.

She was very helpful and capable. With not a word of English spoken I was correctly informed the 'Aire' was not yet in service but water and toilet facilities were available at, 'le petit maison a cote d'etang dans le garer voiture'. Sadie was duly reversed up to the said toilet block in the car park by the lake and we availed ourselves of the open, clean and working facilities

That is why we were now parked securely in this lovely quiet and isolated little spot just up the road from Chatre-sur-Cher, the original sat nav destination.

Tanya and I set off for a walk and quickly discovered why there was a trap set within view of the track. The area was a mixture of ponds, scrub and woodland plus agriculture. It was alive with all sorts of game and wildlife. Ducks and all manner of game birds. Deer, water voles and one pond brimming so full of big fat trout I swear I could have scooped one out with my bare hands. Oh! And the biggest Heron I have ever seen. The trap I had noticed as we drove in was of a size to catch something like Mink or ..... Otter. Certainly a posibility with such an easy fish food supply available.

The reason I moved Sadie when I caught sight of the trap has nothing to do with my years spent on the fringes of agriculture but all to do with my career as a counsellor. One of my clients, during the time we worked together educated me into many of the intricate details of a gamekeepers life and work.

That is what I remembered as I spotted the trap. Always set your traps where as many as possible can be viewed from a distance or at least without regularly having to leave a human scent. Hence at eight o clock the following morning, just as I was getting up, a car swings round behind Sadie, driver checks the trap with his binoculars, sees it has not been triggered so drives off again without giving Sadie a second glance.

Little did he know I had placed a small twig under the balance plate of the trap the night before so Mr slippery wet and probably furry wildlife could have his bit of apple bait and not get nobbled. "naughty, naughty, but such fun!!"

Reflections. More Chateaux & logs.

'Well I started out with nothin n ahhh've still got most of it left.' Sings Seasick Steve, the 70 yr old former American Hobo and now bemused and wealthy blues icon.

OK! My name's Steve too but I guess I started out with an OK sufficiency with some fear as to whether I would manage. I am pleased to report; ahhh've still got most of it left! In other words my budget is going well and the money drain is not as large as I feared. The biggest factor is the ability to wild camp here in France without anyone complaining.... so far ..... fingers crossed etc.

I've been wildcamped in rural woods/forests the last two nights. Rural France, I have observed, runs on wood, big time. There are large and numerous neatly stacked log piles everywhere. In the woods, by the rivers, by the roads, in caves and outside everyones houses. Now France, or at least the parts of France I have been travelling through, has large areas of forest interspersed with agricultural land. These forests have innumerable inviting tracks to it's interior which often go for miles. Well of course they make beautiful wild camping spots, being careful always to pick a spot where I am not blocking anyones access. They have the added bonus of Tanya being able to wander free plus wonderful walks and cycle rides way off of any beaten track where only bird life and startled deer abide. Not a human in sight and because of the vastness involved there is often not a human sound to be heard. No traffic noise, no aircraft just the occasional sound of a distant chainsaw indicating the growing of another log pile. Not everyones choice I accept. For me, at present? Heavenly.

The track I am on just now even has it's own resident cockeral who regularly voices his opinion of us. He has already demonstrated his ability to almost outrun Tanya before frustrating her completly by flying up into a handy tree. Not out of sight mind you. Oh no! This cockeral has been here before. Just high enough so Tanya can still see and hear him clucking and sqwarking his delight at once again winding up this rather dumb looking black furry thing that can't even sqwark or flap a pair of wings. Five minutes later and he is once again strutting and 'cock a doodling' his stuff right outside of Sadie.

We were slow off the mark this morning. Seems to be getting a habit and, I have to admit, one that suits. There was a brief walk before breakfast and then an enjoyable and slow time spent 'doing' things until about 1130hrs when I deemed it had warmed up enough for the days activities to commence in shorts and sandals. Beautiful Summer blue sky weather here at the moment but still very cool early mornings.

Off we go to Chateaux Chambord leaving Sadie shuttered up against the heat and securely locked. Chambord is a huge Chateaux in a massive estate and also very commercialised. This was a warm and sunny Sunday so the crowds were out.

Unlike the charming and lower key Chateaux d'Usse Tanya was not allowed inside so it was a bikewalk all round the beautiful grounds, a pleasant lunch at one of the cafe's and then an even longer ride/ walk till we got totally lost somewhere in the estate.

I did feel a little conspicuous at lunch as I was in three quarter length trousers, untucked short sleeved shirt, sandals and a dog reluctantly attached to me by a red extending lead firmly held by a clasp hook on my belt. My fellow diners were all out in their late winter Sunday best jackets and pink monogrammed long sleeved shirts, jeans or smart trousers and, without exception, smart black shoes. Ladies were in smart jacket and trews or skirt outfits complete with overcoats and in several cases scarves. The couple who sat next to me did'nt seem to mind too much. They spoke a leeeetle English which along with my leeeetle French and Tanya as an ice breaker made for quite a pleasant lunch.

It is fun as I ride around with Tanya sitting happily in her green bucket carriage to hear the comments as I pass others and they suddenly see her. "Ahhhhh! Juan, juan, regardez le chien dans le byciclet ....... Ahhhhh!!" Or words to that effect etc. Always brings a smile to my face.

Back in Sadie now. Yes. We did eventually find our way out of the estate but not before I had frustratingly found several miles of their very long and high estate wall interspersed along it's length by equally high and firmly locked gates. Once you're in you're in!!

Tomorrow? As usual hav'nt a clue. That's for tomorrow. Meanwhile I've one starving dog to feed. She is actually snoring quite loudly on the drivers seat at present but once I make a move I will get that raised head and two big black eyes saying to me. "have you forgotten about me, do you not know I'm a poor underfed and starving dog who has had her arse sat in a green bucket all day and her poor doggy brain rattled out of her head". "Aye right!!" Answers me.

New friends and a fancy car

Ian and I were poring over maps when suddenly our concentration was broken by Browny's exclamation. "Quick. Look out there and see what's just arrived". I averted my gaze from the map out of the big front window of Ian and Browny's 16 year old and very nice too, Hymer motorhome.

Being reversed right up to the edge of this, the mighty Loire river on this blue sky sunny day was a shiny little stainless steel  2 seater open cab car. It reminded me of my brother in law's kit car but this, as explained to me by Ian, a fluent French speaker, had been built from scratch by it's skilled motor engineer owner who was busily photographing from all angles this pristine looking little car. And wow! What a background.

We had earlier that day moved on from a very peaceful Aire next to a lake at Chalonne-sur-Loire after a busy previous day putting 'The big plan' into action. A re jigging of road priorities on the sat nav had given us a good main road journey to the Aire via a stop off at a 'Camping car' dealer in Nantes.

Initially I had to park up outside this dealership and go for a walk with Tanya as it was smack in the middle of the French 2 hour lunchbreak. Not, I have to add, adhered to by the depressingly familiar used and new Peugot car lot next door. Tanya and I were about half way across and idly viewing the cars when the obligatory young and suited salesperson appeared as if out of nowhere. A "nae thanks pal". Firmly stated with Scottish accent brought a furrowed brow and retreat with just one glance back over the shoulder before he was engulfed by the huge, shiny and quite distant main building.

Back in the now open Camping car dealership the showing of a mobile phone photo plus the skill and understanding of the very capable but totally French speaking lady serving me, soon had me away with exactly what I needed. A new water pump.

Now where was I? Ah yes! Today. So we've arrived at the Loire with sat nav re programmed once again for secondary roads. Off we go for our first day of leisurely following this mighty waterway. As usual it was fairly late by the time we left and so a suitable place to park up for lunch was soon on the agenda. We were not dissapointed. A beautiful day and espied across the river, right by the bridge Mrs sat nav was directing us across was a parked up motorhome. "That will do us nicely eh Tanya!" I exclaimed as we drove down to this parking area literally on the riverbank.

"Pleased to meet you and how are you?" Was the English spoken greeting I received as I followed Tanya out of Sadie. This was my introduction to Ian who had recognised a UK number plate and come over to introduce himself. He was quickly joined by his wife, Browny, who, straight to the point asked if I would like to join them for a lunch of cold pork salad followed by apple pie and Lidl's best creamy vanilla dessert.

I can assure you the answer was affirmative and a beautiful, very unexpected lunch was enjoyed with this fascinating and charming couple.

They, like my previous French friend at the campsite, for most of their life had been involved both business wise and personally with boats. They had built their own and sailed the world before finally settling in New Zealand. "Regretfully", says Browny, only to have to return to the UK a few years later for family commitments.

Their sailing days finally came to an end as Browny's vertigo started to affect the enjoyment of being at sea. They are now retired, live in southern Brittany and spend as much of their time as they can touring around in their trusty Hymer. I could have spent a lot longer listening to them but we parted company as Tanya and I continued our walk along the riverbank and they returned and moved on. A loose arrangement was made to meet at Saumur that evening. "Park up by the Chateux, wonderful views and you can't miss it". They were right. I did arrive at Saumur later and parked right by the Chateaux which is where I still am today after an extremely lazy enjoyable day. Sadly Ian and Browny have not appeared.

Dead chickens and 'a big plan'.

Dogs don't do language between themselves. Whether French, Scottish or English, canine posteriors have a universally accepted language with accompanying circling movement. When it is a big dog and a small dog, this circling round while each tries to sniff out the others posterior is quite amusing and always a conversation starter.

"He killed one, yes one of the chickens. It got too near his bowl and kerrrput it was dead!"

"Did you have roast chicken for tea?" I asked, delighted to be having this conversation with a Frenchman who had a reasonable grasp of the good old mother tongue. The dogs were by now satisfied that both posteriors had indicated no trouble, no sex, just some play which they were happily engaged in.

This all happened at La Haras campsite just before we left. Frenchman, who, by the way was well off as his grasp of English made sure I understood. He had a big house at Angers with a swimming pool and, would you believe it, 6000square metres of patio. Plus they had only just started caravanning as they were a bit older and had decided to sell their 40 foot Benneteau yaght! I graciously put on the poor underling face and showed suitable impressed amazement.

It turned out they did'nt eat the chicken but quietly disposed of it and hoped the campsite owners would not miss one medium sized and really quiet indiscriminate looking chicken. With beaming smile and conspiritory finger to the mouth in a "shhhhhhh" gesture I promised not to to let on either. This seemed to go down well and I returned to Sadie hoping Tanya had, after all, just been trotting around after the chickens and there was not a trail of dead chickens throughout the campsite!

While on the subject of wealth there was one other amusing episode at the same campsite. Just after I arrived.

I watched a huge American RV arrive complete with trailer and Smart car. The couple unhitched said trailer complete with car and then re reversed and hitched it back up again as they realised they could not move said trailer manually with Smart car loaded aboard nor could they unload Smart car unless trailer was hitched on back of huge American R V. Empty trailer was finally manhandled into position on their chosen site and then had to be manhandled into another position as it became apparent that 'hugeness' of RV meant it had to be placed on the chosen slot diagonally. A good job I was inside Sadie and watching all this as my sides, by now, were splitting with laughter.

The last I saw of them that night was as short mid 50's male owner of RV was standing scratching his head at the end of a long length of water hose which was still at least 3metres short of the water supply point. I had chosen one of the smaller plots further away which were each furnished with a water point.

The story was rounded off as Mrs RV owner and I showered together the next morning. Sorry. No sex in this blog. Same shower block, different cubicles.

Turns out they were from Jersey/London and had only recently bought this RV. They had flown to America and had it custom built before shipping it to Southampton where the petrol engine was converted to LPG and various other modifications done. 

"Oh no! I could'nt do that, we only do campsites, It just is'nt safe to be parking up without other motorhomes in sight". Says Mrs RV as we chatted before entering separate cubicles and then exclaiming together as a blast of cold water hit us both at the same time followed by a stuttering burst of super heated steam. A pleasant hot shower did ensue after the initial sputterings let me add.

She was a nice lady who left me with a sad feeling. She made it quite clear there was no shortage of money but also, no shortage of fear and anxiety. what I got from her was motorhoming was good as long as it gave her everything she had in her plush Jersey home. The using of the shower block was only tolerated as there was a problem with the type of onboard gas they used for heating and cooking and it was running short. That in turn meant they had to jump in Smart car and go out to eat the previous night. "It was hopeless, we went all over Vannes but there was nowhere suitable for us to dine"
Horses for courses I suppose.

The first conversation with Frenchman of dead chicken fame extolled the beauty of the Loire valley. This got me thinking. The French 'Camping car' magazine bought at Carrfour for locating dealers for water pump spare parts has a lovely route along the Dordogne. Richard still has fond memories of the holidays Doreen and he spent in the Dordogne. More thinking.

Sooooo! A big plan. Sat nav set for a 675kilometre route from here at Arzon right in front of the huge Marina, inland following the Loire and then South to pick up the Dordogne.

At the rate Tanya, Sadie and I travel per day this could take some time!

Washing, planes and repairs.

"JET" I thundered out in my excellent live, on stage and 'lets put put Paul McCartney to shame voice'. I was thoroughly enjoying listening to my old tapes as I completed the washing up.

Tanya, exhausted by the days excursion where we did'nt in the end make Vannes. We got diverted down miles of very cycleable and 'Tanya keep up' forest tracks. So peaceful and quiet and not a soul about. Wonderful.

Anyway. There she was on her bed on the drivers seat dozing after her meal and being forced to open half an eye and sigh at this excellent rendition of a pop song. I think the big sigh she gave was saying. "Gis peace will ya!"

This is our third and final night at the virtually empty 'La Haras' campsite. £55.00 for 3 nights including 2 washes/drier, electric hook up, wi fi and all the usual facilities such as hot showers etc. Can't be bad and fits my budget nicely. They've also got Lamas in the field just in front of us plus free range chickens for Tanya to chase. Well she did. Now she just sort of follows them. If they stop she stops. If they move she, head down, meekly trots after them puzzled at these birds that do not fit the category of run fly and squawk when I appear cos I'm a dog and I like to chase you. On a serious note she does have to spend time on the long lead here ..... Just in case.....!

So. Washing done, all dried, put away and bed freshly made. Brilliant. That is something else ticked off the list. I am now a fully experienced user of a big commercial washer drier where all instructions are in French with, I have to admit, some helpful and very simple diagrams.

Got my first problem with Sadie too. Having a road breaking jack hammer thumping away under the main seating area every time a tap was turned on was, to my mind, a sign. A very strong sign indeed of something not being right. I was not dissapointed. A strip down job this morning showed a leaky water pump with loose screws holding it together. A bit of a pool of water underneath it too. A good dose of elbow grease to the Phillips screwdriver seems to have done the trick for now. A much healthier sound, a sort of low grumbling, now accompanies the requests for tap water. The leak is not completely cured but is manageable for the time being.

The other bonus of this campsite is it is next door to 'Meaucon' or 'Vannes' airfield. Fascinating place with a whole area set aside as 'Mont Air Park' where if you have the readies you can build yourself a house complete with hanger where the roadway is wide enough to jump in your plane, drive it across the normal roadway, 'Avions' have priority, straight onto the airfield and away into the blue. Just how cool is that eh!

There are numerous other hangers dotted about this old wartime airfield with all sorts of clubs and societies to do with aircraft. And any that are open seem quite happy to let this weird 'Ecosse touriste avec chien dans le byciclet regardez les avions.'

There is even a museum of old planes and various aviation junk including an old Martin Baker ejection seat the type and make of which I used to work on during my time in the Fleet Air Arm back in the 60's.

Quite poingant really as hanging in Sadie is a round and red circular tag with 'Remove before flight' written on it. It has been with me all down the years as a reminder of the fragility of life.

I had duly removed this safety pin from the observers 'Martin Baker' ejection seat in a  Sea Vixen jet fighter/bomber just before it took off from the screaming hell that was the flight deck of HMS Eagle during flying operations. This particular safety pin never had to be replaced. Unfortunately the aircraft complete with it's crew of pilot and observer never returned.

Quiberon and 'No parking!'

"They don't seem to like 'Autocaravanes here do they Tanya". This as we entered Quiberon and noticed a preponderance of height barriers and signs banning the parking of Sadie or any of her kind. This fact was later confirmed on a long and enjoyable bike excursion and lunch out. I wondered at one point if someone at the local municipal head office had made a mistake. Or perhaps they just took advantage of some obscure EU grant which supported makers of no parking signs if you bought a large enough quantity of them. There was no mistaking the message. If there was nice spot to park there was a 'No Autocaravane' sign there.

 
I decided this was all about the very busy July and August French holiday season so would take no notice of the signs. I did however; employ reasonable common sense caution. I searched using google maps on my phone and headed for a likely looking spot out of the way of busy thoroughfares. A good choice. A cul de sac and large parking area right by the beach in among a group of completely shuttered up for the winter rather posh holiday homes. The photo with Sadie next to the sign says it all. Two very pleasant nights were spent there with not a word or a comment from any of the many walkers, bikers and, Sunday afternoon out for a tootle round in the car, drivers.

On the third morning a 'Police Municipal' car drove up. "Uh ho!" Thinks me. "This is me for the French ticking off and moving on". But no, it was a female driver on her own and as she turned she spotted me staring out of Sadies panoramic front window. A cheerful wave with a flashing smile and off she drove. I did take this as an 'I've been clocked moment' and we moved on later that day.

Did'nt get far! Found a gorgeous spot on the spit of land, or sand dune if you like, separating Quiberon from the mainland. Enjoyed a beautiful and forever bike ride with Tanya running along beside me for quite long periods. We cycled along the concrete hard sands on the Atlantic side of this spit of land in among the speeding kite powered land yaghts. I have just got to have go at that!
The evening was spent comfortably in Sadie on the 'Golfe de Morbihan' side  viewing the kite surfers in the strengthening evening breeze.
Tonight there are 11 motorhomes in total in this lovely spot. 5 of which are Rapido's of various size, shape and vintage. No shortage of them here in France.

More Stones!

"Hmmmph! They don't make it easy to find these things do they Tanya?" If she could talk she would have answered. "Oh stop complaining. This is fine for me. You just climb up on that earth wall. I'll stick to the muck and the puddles cos I love them and it is, after all, the track."

We had left Carnac and our pleasant slot at 'Ponte de Po' and were on our way round to 'Quiberon' on the 'Quiberon peninsular'. There had though, been a 'feeling' a sense if you like, since the previous evening when I had perused the local map from the Carnac visitor centre. This map showed where all the local 'Neolithic stone sites' were. The 'Quadrilatere de Curono' out of all the sites grabbed my attention. So we had detoured to visit this site.

We had followed the map but what it did'nt show was a bloody great waterworks / sewage treatment works close by. I had to park Sadie round the side at the start of what turned out to be a very boggy and flooded track to the site with accompanying sewage nasal delights.
We did make it though and the actual site was far enough away to not be affected. It was also dry. With a bonus of the weather being sunny and warm.

This particular and ancient set of stones did have, for me, power. Let me explain. I find if I follow these hunches, senses or feelings I am always given something back. So it was at the 'Quadrilatere de Curono'. Most of the stones were still there and if all the stones were counted including the missing ones there were probably 28. A Lunar cycle.

I walked the complete rectangle touching and feeling with my hand each stone. Sure enough there was one stone out of them all with 'energy'. I sat, comfortably with back supported by my 'energy stone'. There was nothing extraordinary happened just a really quiet, calm and peaceful meditative half hour. The photo is of Tanya having her meditation, all 30 seconds of it, in front of the same 'energy stone'.

Often when I meditate there is a period where Tanya fidgets and paws me, wanting to go or maybe not approving of this master who has a habit of doing nothing whatsoever for odd periods of time. After a while she too settles, often on my lap, and remains so throughout.

Perhaps the 'energy' was received later. We stopped for lunch at a pleasant and very large pull off  off of the main road. The crowd I noticed as we pulled up turned out to be a meeting of owners of souped up BMW's. Some of them classics. We were royally entertained to numerous speeding and high revving throaty BMW's with accompanying good natured waves from the owners / drivers as they sped back and forth past Sadie. An entertaining and very different lunch stop. Tanya, let me tell you, was not allowed to wander free during said lunchtime!

Carnac

Salty yes. But very nice. "Merci madame, est tres bon." This was me at the limit of my French communication which I was quite pleased with as my mixture of a smiling face, the word 'Anglaise' (if I add 'Ecosse' I invariably get a more engaging response) plus the word 'ignorant' had got me a tasting plus a full explanation as to the bucket of shellfish she was carrying.
Oh! And the interesting fact of "Moi amis est Anglaise, ooh la la!"

We had travelled round from Arradon yesterday to a very pleasant and out of the way spot on 'Pointe du Po' near Carnac. On the way we called into visitor centre at the 'Menec' standing stones and walked around them. Impressive; more so for the quantity and large area covered by the many parallel lines of standing stones.

I was not in the best of moods yesterday. Had one of my slow and sluggish brain days. I got angry at myself over my continuing incapability to leave a site without shutting cupboards or closing drawers. This happened twice. Once as I left Arradon with a crashing of various foodstuffs from the locker above the sink. Unbelievably I left the same locker open, which obediently repeated it's disgorging routine, as I left the supermarket where I had replenished stocks. Consequently I was not in a 'correct' frame of mind to appreciate fully the impact of these significant and numerous megalithic sites in this area.

Today is a different story. The stones at Carnac and all around this area now make sense.

I had a good nights sleep after a good dinner of home cooked fresh fish. This morning, Saturday by the way, Tanya and I set out on a long dogbikewalk. The tide was right out and what a bonus, we were able to cycle along miles of beach. The vast expanse of beach was breathtaking and populated not only by the commercial shellfish operators with their tractors and forklift trucks way out in the distance at the 'Moule/Oyster' farms where last night only the sea had been, but also half the population of the 'Golfe du Morbihan'. They were there with their welly's on and some were digging out big fat pink wiggly worm things from under the sand while the majority were filling buckets with various shellfish, moules, oysters and other delicasies that reside within innocuous looking shells attached to rocks.

There is a definite pleasure in witnessing such happenings from a 'know nothing about all this' perspective. What I was seeing has been part of this areas natural history since humans first arrived many many thousands of years ago. The bountiful larder of this sea shore sustained those early populations. Today it seems like there is still plenty for all and if it's that easy to keep the larder stocked then why not. Especially if you happen to be of Neolithic personage,  and lets say you have a damm good sideline of digging out bloody big granite stones and planting them in neat rows. I mean, what else do you do? And the more powerful your family the taller the stone and the nearer to the important end of the line you get.

Sounds an OK theory to me!

Postscript - Two more motorhomes arrived this morning (there are five here tonight). The couples know each other and one of the wives speaks a leeeetle Eeeenglish which with my leeetle French informed me all about the oysters and the Moules and all the other speceeeeal and deeeeliciux types of shell fish in their full buckets and basins. She also said they are from Finistere and are here because it is the 'Grande Marie' which I figured out to be the high, and of course low spring tide. So expect more crowds tomorrow flocking to the beaches for gastronomical oyster (there are of course other shellfish!!) delight.

Arradon

"We don't get all that far in a day do we Tanya?" Finally though here we are at 'Arradon', a nice but non descript place which on the map appeared reachable in a one day dash. It is also top, well off set a bit maybe, of the circle which is the 'Golfe-du Morbihan'. Neolithic standing stone sites abound around this area which I want to visit. The sun is shining and it's pleasantly warm when out and about during the day.

I'm settling in for my second night at the Municipal camper van area as I'm cream crackered having done a 'dogbikewalk' of several miles longer than originally intended. I just could not resist following the alluring little pathways and beaches in and about the edge of this lovely area. Yes. Bike is big success with no Tanya falling out this time. I also appreciated the Scanny truck load of gears as on this ride there were these totally unnessecary obstructions called hills.

This second night is also welcomed by both of us after two or three days of quite heavy but oh so enjoyable driving through rural France

Arrived at this campsite and chose the one nice level grassy spot without shade. This time of year I want the sun to warm Sadie. I was the only vehicle on the site which has room for approximately 25 vans

Now; the night before I happened to have read a thread on 'motorhomefacts.com' about the French love of parking as close to another motorhome as they can even if the Aire or site is empty.

Settled we were. With Tanya and I contemplating our next gastronomic delight. Round the corner comes this ancient motorhome with what can only be described as a highly agitated bag of rusty scrap metal under the bonnet. Monsieur wizened, white haired and ancient Frenchman was driver accompanied by his equally ancient and even more white haired (more hair altogether in fact) la femme.
They, after having driven round the site twice decided they would park quite close to me, also on the grass, the sloping and damp grass.

I watched amused as they manoeuvred themselves skillfully into a position of stuckness with the front wheels skidding away and the bag of noisy rusty scrap alarming me. I was easily in range should the bonnet become unable to contain the impending distribution of scrap metal bits at high velocity.

An entrance was called for at this point. With the help of wizened and actually quite sprightly la femme, plus lots of gesticulation and shouting of words none of us understood, said van, plus agitated and in great pain bag of rusty scrap, were pushed and directed into a level hardstanding plot just behind me.

Ancient, bow legged and bent double old French man finally emerged from the drivers seat beaming and smiling and making it fairly obvious, language difference not withstanding, that he was really pleased with the outcome. I got the distinct impression this was a normal nights arrival at campsite for them.

They turned out to be quite a nice couple who also had an equally ancient dog. Several conversations were had with none of us, including the dogs, knowing who was saying what. I think he was deaf too as I am sure shouting loudly the same few words repeatedly into your loved ones left ear is not just a term of endearment.

The bag of rusty scrap was coaxed into life again the next morning, well half of it was. I presume the other half kicked into life a few miles down the road. Lots of waves from the couple as they passed and I only hope they saw I waved back through the haze of exhaust smoke that accompanied them.

Not Prince Will but Will the Conquerer

Travelling on south today and left Bill & Bens home in cold rain. Weather started to improve and hey! what do you know, it's lunch time and there's a parking spot right under the ramparts of William the Conquerers pad at Falaise. Sure is some pad too although it's sort of falling down in places. I see he has the builders on site doing a bit of restoration though.

I wonder. If the circus had come to town in 1066 and parked next door and grazed their camels on his nice green spaces would it have changed things? Dammed if I would have invaded England. I'd have wanted those pesky camels off my patch a bit pronto. That's where my troops would have gone! (Ed;- original blog entry had photo of large circus parked adjacent the castle walls.) 

While walking round the outside of the castle we found a lovely carved plaque commemorating his conquests including England. There was a beautiful clear spring pool at its base and room to park Sadie. Sooo .... My water tank is now brimming full of Wills water. Y'know. Apart from a bit of rape, plunder and the odd conquest he seems to be an OK guy to me. Lovely water!!

Bill & Ben!

I guess they must have made quite a packet out of their childrens TV series back in the 50's but hey! Here they are alive n kickin and happily retired in Cambrener smack in the middle of Calvados country. No sign of 'Weed' though. Maybe that's why they're so laid back. Or is it the Calvados?

Stormy time.

Sadie was rocking wildly and obviously stressed at being sideways on to the full force of a howling gale coming straight  off the sea. We'd left Le Hourdel Sunday morning with a Sat Nav route set toward Le Havre.

A little diversion, or possibly indulgence is called for at this point to satisfy the male. (Oops! Must'nt be sexist here! ) To satisfy any nerd or geek who may be reading this. Sad I know, but it has to be done. This is because a sad and alone but brilliantly creative and spontaneous nerd/geek resides within this author a few too many times to be honestly admitted to.

For example. I have never lost my love of driving. In particular driving on quiet rural roads of which France has an endless supply. To have a sat nav on my Smart phone which with a little programming will furnish me a 'meander on bye roads and back roads' routes is simply wonderful. Couple that with a very comfy and easy to drive vehicle with a high and panoramic viewpoint; Well let me tell you I am in heaven. This definitely is a trip about enjoying the journey. History, architecture, food and culture are, I'm afraid consigned firmly to second place. A meandering journey through the back roads of France punctuated by country or seaside walks with Tanya is, so far, just the ticket for me.

There is one drawback though. We don't actually get very far in a day!

Back to the stormy story. We had diverted off our meandering route and found a lovely end of the road cul de sac above the beach at St-Martin-en-Campagne. We settled in for the rest of the day, and night as there are no crowds or difficulty with wild camping in such a place at this time of year.

The rain was now going off, lunch had been consumed and Tanya now escorted me on a good walk across the deserted sandy beach under the crumbling chalk cliffs. We continued back up through the village and out onto the hillside above those crumbling cliffs. The wind was now getting up and quite frankly gusting savagely and with increasing ferocity. All in all both Tanya and I were glad to get back to Sadie and Sadie, I think, was also glad to see us back. She was rocking alarmingly and once we were inside it was obvious we could not stay there for the night. The gusts hitting her large wind unfriendly side threatened to lift her off her wheels.

A quick pack up was organized and off we went. By now it was late. The light was starting to go and my anxiety was rising. A compromise was reached as can be seen by the photograph. We stayed a little lower down right by the sea and had a very wild and noisy night with howling winds and crashing of huge waves just in front of the sea wall. Sadie did us proud though. I had managed to tuck us tightly against a block of apartments. Sadie was now head into the gale and sheltered somewhat by the apartment block.

The gale howled on all night. I managed to secure the front skylight which was rattling enough to raise fear it may be blown off. That improved things a bit but overall it was not a comfortable night and I did not get much sleep. Cold too as the screaming gale outside meant the gas fired boiler would not light up. All to do with back draught pressure in the flue vent I am reliably informed.

Tanya could not settle either. I finally relented and moved both doggy bed and her to my bed. She happily curled up and slept soundly through it all from then on. I did not. I dozed but was awoken every few moments by the next screaming gust and accompanying rock n roll from Sadie as she shook it off.

This morning it was up, still with the now slightly abated wind, and get the hell out of it to Dieppe. Thankfully it was calmer and sunnier inland which lifted the spirit a touch. We gathered our senses together, topped up with fuel and gas, re programmed sat nav south to 'Vannes' (looks a convenient place and quite a way south) and headed off.

Afraid we hav'nt got all that far. The meandering routed us through some gorgeous villages of classic Normandy half timbered and thatched houses and we had lunch at the side of the river Seine.

Tired and OK we are now snug and warm and safely tucked up for the night in a roadside Aire at 'Cambremer' right smack in the heart of Calvados country.

OH! And no wind and no Sadie rocking wildly.

Somme Estuary

"Of course, now I understand, the damm clock is radio controlled and so resets to UK time when in range." Such were my musings this morning on our now regular, before breakfast walk.

This walk is fair as Tanya is good as gold all night and then in the morning patiently waits as I drag myself from my snug and 'oh so comfy' bed to complete my morning ablutions. A brief walk to allow her to 'ablute' and catch the latest morning sniffs is enjoyed by both of us.  Followed of course by breakfast and a pondering as to the whats and wheres of the day ahead. The task of forward planning has never been a strong point with me and only rarely makes my, even rarer, 'to do' list.

As we walked the shingle bank above a wide flat and huge estuary beach I chuckled as the time revelation came to me. I rise at approx 7.30ish but had wondered yesterday how it had suddenly got to 11.30am before we were ready to set off. This morning, as I sleepy eyed and naked as one's maker intended, glanced at the main clock I noticed it was 8.30.

Now a sleepy brain. Ah wait! let me clarify that. 'MY' sleepy 2 brain cell, and well out of date human being software operating system, did not pick up the fact of my bedside clock being a radio controlled one which mischieviously resets itself to UK time at the first chance it gets.

The joy is it does not matter. I can muse on it if I want. I can chuckle and laugh about it. I have no deadlines or schedule. Apart that is from those I create within my own head and boy oh boy, 2 brain cells or not, I can do that for a pastime. What I am slowly, very slowly, doing is updating my antiquated brain software system and deleting all files to do with anxiety, hurry, got to, have to or need to.

All in all a very pleasant day spent at Le Hourdel with a good 'dogcycwalk' expedition to Cayeux-sur-mer. These two places are on the river Somme estuary where history and conflict are 'in your face' as soon as you hit the beach.

The two photos illustrate this. The one showing how even mans attempts at impregnability are easily toppled by mother earths abundantly cheap and plentiful tool. Time.

The other. Ok! So the building plot was cheap! It had a world war two bunker in the garden. Well; lets make good use of it eh!

One important lesson was learned on the return trip. Tanya had been running along beside and behind me as I meandered slowly along the level paved roadway by the sand dunes. Uh ho! Bit of a rainstorm coming on and not too far to go to the cosyness of Sadie. Quick stop to bung Tanya in the doggy carrier and because there was only a short distance to go I did not bother securing her with her harness.

I tell you. She is no daft dog. She worked that one out in a flash and next thing I heard was a thump. I glanced behind to see one rather surprised and dazed Tanya staggering back to her feet after what could have been a very nasty fall. Thankfully after a good cuddle and a check round for any damage she was up and running again with no harm done. A lucky escape and a lesson learned. Full harness on and secured every time now

Sorry Tanya!

To France and more.

On the ferry and it's a soul less place. Apart that is from the guy behind the bar who does an ok coffee and comes from Pollock in Glasgow!
Tanya is down below in Sadie and I admit I am worrying how she is doing being on her own. She is normally ok for an hour or two. But this is slightly different with the movement of the ship and all the different and strange sounds.

Ah well! More later.

,,,,,,,,,,,

Well; now it is later. A curry is bubbling away and 'Nostalgia' is playing a good mix of French music and classic hits in English. Tanya is fed and sleeping next to me on the drivers seat. Sadie is slightly leaning to one side. Not enough to worry about apart from needing to prop the pan handle so the curry is cooking evenly.

That is what you get after a 120km drive, a good visit to the Vimy Ridge memorial and then use of Google satellite maps to locate this local track in 'Lievin' with a handy and wide enough dry grass verge to perch Sadie. 

Tanya enjoyed her walk up into the local woods where we passed another smaller memorial to those Canadians who died while taking the 'Pimple' as it was known then, 95 years ago. The conquest was achieved 2 days after the main ridge was taken.

I did notice in the blurb the offensive was April 9th and 'they advanced into the driving snow and sleet'. Here was I on March 1st in warm sunshine happy and at peace. 

In such a place and on such a day I can only make sense of it by acknowledging their sacrifice and of how it has enabled me to be where I am now. Guess I had best enjoy this peace and warmth to the full if I am to pay any respect at all to the pyramid of ancestral life and death that stretches back and supports me at it's very peak.

An amusing aside was a coach load of youngsters from Cardiff who were there on a school trip. I thoroughly enjoyed staying close by them and listening to their highly knowledgeable, and easy to listen to teacher. 

Did you know that water does'nt go through chalk which meant the trenches and tunnels were always flooding? 

"That's why their feet were wet and they got trench foot sir" shouted the lad just by me who I observed was determined to show he knew as much as his teacher.

Well that has been today and it follows 2 pleasant days at 'Le Touquet Paris-plage'. A sort of French Bournemouth. Very pleasant though with Sadie and smart phone 'Co-Pilot' sat nav guiding us all to a 'camping car' designated area (Aire) virtually next to the sea and the huge beach.

The big bonus was of course it was all flat..Bike was quickly unloaded, Tanya carrier lashed into place and off we went. She loved it. We did 2 really long excursions combining walking and carrying of Tanya. She was just sooo good. 

She never even batted an eyelid when at one point as I was dismounting in order to wheel bike and her across a busy road, I lost my balance. We all, much to the amusement of passers by, gently toppled to pavement level. I unhooked Tanya and she delicately extricated herself from the undignified tangle. She then quietly sat and watched as I untangled my legs from the now horizontally positioned bike.

The other big bonus, and one I am only just starting to really appreciate, is the HTC Sensation smart phone coupled with Vodafone data roamer and GPS positioning. Twice now this clever technology has rescued me from getting totally lost by showing me in detail via the already mentioned 'Google satellite maps' a helicopter view of where I am. This has enabled even me, one who is scarily familiar with being lost on 'expoditions, to navigate successfully around a seaside town centre and the middle of a totally new and rather large French forest.

Mind you the sat nav part does have its moments. It got me to 'Carrfour' in the Coquelle region of Calais where the idea was to top up with diesel. What it did'nt tell me, and sat navs should be taught these things at sat nav primary school, was that every entrance had a barrier set at 2.1metres high. Surely Mr sat nav you should know I am 3.0metres high!  

Had to abandon that one as 6 times round and still not finding a way in was enough for me and for the one car that seemed to delight in glueing itself to my rear end all the way round.
Carrfour in St Omer were more accessible and Sadie's thirst duly quenched.