heading to France to go walking with the Chalais walking group

Left our home in Innellan and drove down to the Dunoon ferry in glorious sunshine, although the wind was up and the sea had become quite choppy, in certain peoples mind it had become quite rough. Nevertheless, the crossing was still smooth although they’re where a few humps & bumps on the way as we crossed the channels in the centre of the Clyde.

Fortunately a smooth uneventful drive south, meandering down to Dover. Off at Preston to stay overnight near Liverpool, with the main objective to see the Anthony Gormley statues, over 100 life size images of himself stuck randomly in the sand. 

 

But first we had to thread our way through a complicated snake like system of roads which acted like a switchback amongst parks, Victorian houses and rows and rows of shops in and around Preston and out onto the Liverpool road, amidst a thronging mass of humanity, both on foot and in all manner of transport, some definitely not legal.

This wall to wall housing mixed with commercial businesses continued for what seemed eternity, until we came out to some form of rural agriculture setting, only to be confronted with a continuous stream of garden centres. Prices must be good, with all this competition. Then within a blink of an eye we were back into a thronging mass of humanity. This time in the delightful yet overcrowded town of Southport, with its wrought iron facades, wide walkways and mock Victorian editions housing Pizza Express and Weatherspoons amongst many other interlopers vying for business.

The drive took us through affluent areas, middle class and some very poor and impoverished sections before emerging into Filey with its large houses, enclosed by tall perimeter walls, festooned with all manner of security devices. They were not what l would call impressive grand mansions in pristine lavish grounds. More pretensions mock Georgian houses, shoe horned into small plots, overshadowed by the razor wire topped walls that must eclipse their miniscule garden.

The traffic is horrendous, moving along at a snails pace. The only speeding traffic is that of cars with blue flashing lights and honking horns that push us off the road to attend to some affray or perhaps a slight bump where a driver in a trance has stoved his car into the car in front. This minor accident soon erupts into a full scale altercation as the innocent casualty reaps revenge from the hypnotised driver come offender.

Eventually we arrive in Crosby and follow the circuitous signs to the beach parking. Ultimately anticipating and definitely expecting to find parking costs that are astronomical. In need of a mortgage to stay more than five minutes. We were exceedingly pleasantly surprised, in fact gobsmaked. The enormous parking space was totally free, and well used by all manner of visitors and spectators along with the prerequisite ice cream seller and hot food and drink caravan. The latter being very down to earth, and definitely a necessity after a good walk through the mud with the wind blowing a force 10 into your face. Not quite, but the sandblasted effect made it feel that strong.

 Wellies on, and out through the mud and sand to the tidal line. Which at this time was out at least a mile. The statues, all being in the likeness of Gormley, varied in so much as their wear and the effect the sea and elements had bestowed on the cast metal forms. Some had lost all details, others were coated in barnacles others in seaweed. Some were up to their neck in sand or seawater whilst others just stood there like the day they were planted. Absolutely amazing.

 

From here to the Premier Inn for the night. Very comfortable, excellent price and conveniently located next door to a restaurant and the motorway to get us back on to the M6 in the morning. I will not bore you with the tale of the rib steak, other than, Judith’s was great. Mine was overcooked and cold. Returned and replaced by a hot steak that was still overcooked. Its not nice eating by yourself. Your partner has finished her meal before you even get yours. But they refunded the cost of the steak and said sorry!

not quite as overcooked as this, but nearly

Following morning we had a surprisingly good journey back to Dover.

Prior to going over to France we managed to stock Gwen up with food, throw out all the out of date food which had taken a turn for the worse, cut the lawn and tidied the garden. Then it was lunch out with Gwen and Aunty Joyce. Lovely lunch, and since Joyce has been using her climbing frame, she gets around really well.

 

Saturday morning and we are up at 5am and down to the docks to catch the ferry to France. One and half hours after boarding we disembark into rain and mist, yet this soon disappears by the time we get to Rouen.

 

The traffic was quite heavy. Then again its is one of the busiest weekends for traffic on the French motorways, with everyone in France returning home after their annual August holidays. 

 

 

We felt he result of this mass exodus from the summer break. Every time we pulled in for a comfort stop we were met by queues of people with anguished expressions on their faces, jumping up and down, which is difficult with their legs crossed. Queuing for the toilets. Even the mens!

Eventually l had to do what the French do. Go into a wood.

 

Saying that the traffic was bad heading south, but the northerly traffic was at a standstill, especially as you came to an autoroute toll station.

There were also plenty of idiot drivers, cutting people up, breaking at the last minute, climbing into your boot, overtaking on the inside and some just driving so fast they passed in a blur. Some of which were followed in slow pursuit by the obligatory gendarme in their blue Renault estate with flashing lights. No way would they have caught them, but l am sure they will eventually catch up with them by post.

 

 

The satnav was giving us updates all the time, but the forecast on our expected arrival time was not good. The gates close on the site we were staying at by 8pm, our bed for the week was looking precariously at risk.

It didn’t help that we didn’t have our French map. In our usual mad rush we had left behind all manner of necessities, some more important than others. In fact as we drove down, with time to think, the list became ever greater. The required two warning triangles (only had the one and you need two in spain), swimming costume and trunks, kite for the windy beach at the Cote de Sauvage, fishing rod and tackle, surf board, Alan’s extra strong tea bags, washing up liquid and tea towels. I could keep going on, but l wont bore you.

Luckily, we did manage to bring the important things, waterproofs, boots and walking gear along with our pillows and sleeping bag. Everything else could be bought when down there if necessary.

We trundled on through Rouen along the bank of the Seine, down to Dreux and Chatres before getting to Tours. Listening to the Omnibus edition of the Archers and favourite tracks that l had placed on a memory stick and inserted into the car. Great way of listening to specific tracks that can be easily down loaded. 

 

By the time we reached Poiters we had made up some time, and by Saintes the new updated schedule was 7pm. in reality we managed to get to our destination, Camping L’Oree du Bois between Les Mathes and La Palmyre at 6.30pm.

 

Settled into our four bedroom tent, had our dinner and then went for a stroll, initially around the camp site with its bars, restaurant, swimming pool, shops and disco. 

 

 

The latter fortunately closing on Saturday night for the season, thank goodness. Then it was outside the site and along the road towards Le Palmyre, which was wall to wall camp sites in dispersed with the usual tourist attractions, bike hire, tree climbing, horse riding, buggy and quad hire and then a massive fair called Luna park.

I have not seen a fair like it since visitng the old Goose fair in Nottingham. It was massive, bright lights, stalls, restaurants selling steak, duck and bbq roasted pork. It was heaving. Everything was €2.50, rides, not the food. They had all manner of entertainment catering for all ages, ghost rides, helter-skelter, big and small dippers depending on age and nerve, shooting galleries. In fact it had it all, culminating in some really serious pieces of kit designed to freak most people out and tempt the young and mindless. These machines threw people about in all directions at various angles and speeds. But the biggest and most ludicrous was an arm that arced into the sky 200feet with rotating pods at each end containing the lucky individuals who were brave enough, or stupid enough to go on it. Two minutes of fast and furious movement, producing massive G forces. You could hear the screams from the individuals as they rotated 360 degrees, you could see the mixed reactions on their faces, and you could also see them hose the seats down when each group departed. Pure madness. Yet lots of people like the frill of the biggest and most scary rides. Definitely not me.

 

 

 

Off to bed and up at a reasonable time to get ready for our lunch appointment. Our friends from the dinner club were coming over for apperos, after which we were going to La Tremblade for lunch.

Jo & Tony and Mike & Annette were in good form, and it was great catching up on gossip, plus the fish lunch was amazing. Managed to drag our selves out of the restaurant in time for a drive down to the beach at the Cote Sauvage.

 

The wind was up, kites in the air, wind surfers were zipping across the waves and families were just having a great time.

Walked towards the surfers with the high waves smashing against the few brave enough to go into the torrents.

Then back towards the northerly point with the bridge over to Isle d’Oleron in the background.

Groups of men were fishing, windsurfers were combating the high winds and zipping along the waves demolishing any unsuspecting paddlers and swimmers in their wake.

The beach was vast with cliffs cut out of the sand rising up at the edges of the dunes. This seemed to attract the naturists, all shapes and sizes who laid splayed out in the sun like a carcase of pork waiting to be gutted. Ladies with eggs frying on their chests, which cant be good for you. Then as we continued to walk further north, we came across another fisherman, although this one was totally naked, bent down fixing worm to his line. One just hope he knows the difference when he attaches his worms to the hooks. Could be exceedingly painful.

 

 

After a good refreshing walk after our lunch we returned back to our tented home for the night. Only to find a party of ten Germans encamped around us. 

 

 

Tables had been buttered together to accommodate the group immediately in front of our eye line. Very considerate. Then the beer fest started at 6pm, turned in to the Nuremberg Rally and continued to escalate into an occupation by midnight and fished off with a rendition of a poorly sung version of the German National Anthem. So we eventually got to sleep by 12.30, only to woken by the antics of three French boys and one girl three feet immediately behind our tent. Drinking, talking and whatever else continued till 2am. 

 

Awoke by 7am and opened the zip forty times, jumped up and down on the gravel, sang the British national Anthem, set the car alarm off after opening and closing the boot fifty times. 

 

We then made a complaint and were moved to a beautiful spot away from the crowds that proved to be gorgeously quiet.

From all accounts the French and German parties were repeatedly warned about noise, ultimately being told that if they were found being noisy after 11pm again they would be removed.

 

Next day after a fantastic nights sleep we went into Diree for supplies, then we drove out to the light house and walked along the cycle path and down by the mud flats filled with all manner of birds to La Palmyre with its estuary and yacht basin. The tide was out and the estuary was peppered with locals and tourists fishing into the outgoing tide of the fast flowing waters.

Continued to the far end before heading inland to the small town with its tourist shops, cafes and car parks full of campervans.

Managed to buy ourselves swimwear, Judith a lovely costume, me the prerequisite swimming trunks to enable us to use the pool. From their we nipped into the tourist information centre and checked our email before heading back with a ice cream quickly melting in hand, but it did cool us down.

Back at base we took advantage of the relatively quiet pool, it was magnificent, with all manner of slides and chutes, plus a large pool that most people kept clear of. They were too busy enjoying themselves in the lazy river; Jacuzzi and clambering up and down the slides. An Olympic sized pool just to ourselves, brilliant.

Bit of drying off in the sun before heading to the restaurant for happy hour and dinner. Before long we were back home completely refreshed, watered and fed and ready for bed.