Across the Great Divide

We left slightly later it being Sunday and no caffs likely to be open before 9. It was rainy and a bit lacking in interest as we headed north. But we made good time and stopped right by St Brieuc after only an hour! Seems like we’ve finally found a quick route between the coasts. 

Anyway Châtelaudren it was, a place previously found to serve Good Coffee. Excellent boulangerie once more full of these amazing rustic breads. Who needs a Panasonic! I weakened and bought a slab of ‘Maxi’ - a dense cartwheel of a thing full of raisins and hazelnuts. (have subsequently had it sliced and toasted, and also raw, with butter…mmm ). Coffee this time was not battalion strength, but tasty and only €4.20 for three!

Another hour and a bit and we were in Roscoff searching for onions to take back to Robert at The Grove. I had a €10 note he’d given us so felt obliged to get them. None of the farm gate sales was showing a light but we know a little grocers in the centre that always has some and luckily it was one of the few places open. Got a 5kilo net for €6 and a small tresse For €3.40 so I’ll keep 60 cents for me trouble!

Surcouf was also open so I whipped in and booked for Midday. Then we just stood under an awning for 15 minutes to keep out of the downpour. Lunch was good - French onion soup, monkfish in a creamy sauce of lardons and vegetables topped oddly with slices of nice hard conference pear! Adrian had the marmite of fish and vegetables under a pastry crust. Litre of cider, no room for puds.

And then…the port, the ferry, and off. Stood on deck for a while watching the Galicia cross our bow on its way from Portsmouth to Spain then down to the bar for tea and cake and finally to our cabin where we snuggled down for the duration. It was a bit rough up top  I think but we were comfy. The heavens opened over Plymouth making it a bit of a nail biter driving out of the city then at Tavistock it just stopped. Home by 11ish. Everything in the garden is still flowering, there’s even a courgette. 

Vannes

We are here in another Kyriad. Not quite as fine as last night in La Rochelle but not bad. However, we will draw a veil over yesterday’s journey! It rained as we left Sarlat but we were in good spirits having had a nice meal in the old town the previous night and anticipating a good breakfast in Lalinde. Then the first of what proved to be a day full of Routes Barrées hit us. We were detoured 30 km over the other side of the River Dordogne through undeniably pretty countryside but so far off our route that really we should have rebooted! We didn’t but continued up and down through woods and valleys at one point passing the surreal site of the front section of an aircraft fuselage emblazoned Aero Lloyd, just plonked in a field. We later discovered via Google that it had been bought by some chap to display in his grounds after the plane was scrapped. 

Anyway onwards…Lalinde finally hoved into view and we parked up opposite the bar we’d previously visited on a warmer sunnier day when the market was on and all was bustling. Today it was wet, gloomy, everything not yet open, Boulangerie closed and only a dépot de pain at Casino. I bought four solid feeling croissants and we sat inside with our (very good) coffees. The place began to fill with men of a certain age all clustering round a large table and bunching up to make room as another appeared until finally there were about a dozen or so. All laughing, convivial, and served with seemingly no ordering by the stout proprietor bearing a cup of coffee for each new arrival. It is a rugby bar and we have conjectured that the owner was once a prop forward!

We had more coffees - loathe to go out into the downpour. But tempus fugitted and off we went into wine country between Bergerac and Pomerol. More routes barrées sent us into a maze of unclassified lanes with no signposts. I was getting a headache and feeling sick from peering at the tiny print of the map in a moving car. Tempers were frayed. 

At last we got to Lussac and bought vast delicious sandwiches from an amazing boulangerie full of breads of all description. This time we did reboot and I sent us straight to the top end of the Gironde estuary past the Escargot Roundabout and into Mortagne. Then rapidly bypassing Royan hoping for a speedy entry into La Rochelle. Ha ha! Another roadworks loomed up and we were lost in Saujon with signs telling us to go via Saintes!! Not bloody likely says I, and we wove our way onto the country roads through the marshes. Rochefort was signed, the transporter bridge was in view and we were soon in the Kyriad La Rochelle exhausted but triumphant. Lovely huge room, stylish. Two windows, wet room. And only two mins to del Arte for pizza and wine.

Today was much better. A fine morning as we crossed the marshes to Luçon. Cathedral bell tolling melodiously as we sipped yet more excellent coffee, this time with good croissants. And I found Adrian a new Héron and Héron lighthouse book in the bookshop!

Continuing up the coast we spent an hour or so in Les Sables d’Olonne strolling along the Prom in the sun though acutely aware of the oncoming bank of thick grey. 

People were on the beach and surfers surfing. All very jolly and bracing! Then we drove round to the other side of the harbour for looks at lighthouses before the final stretch.

Lunch was a bag of crisps and a clementine under le pont de St Nazaire in Brévin. Then an hour more to Vannes Kyriad. Not  as luxurious as La Rochelle but twill serve nicely. Just had crêpes down on the port and bonded with a French family over the arcane payment system at the Q parks underground carpark!

https://photos.app.goo.gl/Lo7qXjXsjE5QccZK9

The rains came

At 7 am as we were packing. Absolute downpour outside the hotel as we gazed in alarm from our balcony. No coats and the car at least a street away! So we tiptoed down despite the fact that we were in the Hotel Marie Celeste, left the key at the empty desk and ran for it. Destination Marseillan for petit déj.

There we discovered that the town was in the throes of roadworks and there was no parking to be had, Having made several passes round we found one space reasonably close to a bar, put on waterproofs and splashed our way in. Asked where nearest boulangerie was…of course miles away. So off I trots like Little Blue Riding Hood to gather goodies for my wolves. 

Once I am returned with viennoiseries and sandwiches the three coffees are delivered and we settle down. Nice bar, clean, modernish. Until it all turns a touch Clochemerle. One by one locals appear, obviously driven inside by the weather. They greet each other with remarks about the rain being good for frogs, snails and the end of the mushroom season. One has a dog. It circles about and proceeds to poo on the floor. No one bats an eyelid, owner calmly clears it up and takes dog outside! I am in mid bite of a pain aux raisins and nearly choke. Owner and dog duly return and carry on as if nothing had happened.

We finished off our visit to the sea with the usual walk to the end of the quay. All now inexorably gentrified and smart but we like it. The rain eased off and we sadly made our departure north. Up the A75, over the Millau Viaduct and on and on swapping vines for pasture, cows and sheep. 

For some reason we detoured via that Queen of Tourist Traps, Rocamadour, perched on its river cliff. Not exactly heaving but there were  goodness knows how many carparks which is an indication of the potential nightmare it must be!

Sarlat by three - into Ibis where we have a huge room with separate alcove for Adam. A bit of blue sky appears so we traipsed into town and hoped for the best.  Harrumph…it rained, but only a short burst.

In the end it was a bit of a marathon complete with stops for tea and coffee until we could get into a restaurant. But that was very good and the walk back to the hotel strangely easy (downhill!).

A day at the seaside

Was what we planned. But somewhat of a cockup round Montpellier made it more like an afternoon. Anyway we left on time and found breakfast in a nice little town in the Camargue where bulls are the main crop. Arena in the middle of town next to the church, metal gates on the ends of streets for when they run the bulls, roundabouts featuring statues of men on horses rounding up bulls. Then we went wrong…missed a turning to Palavas and found ourselves being funnelled into the city! Nothing for it but to about face and take the motorway down to the Sète exit.

Once in Sète the true horror was revealed. Not only is it hot weather but also School half term and Wednesday market day The place was gridlocked. Streets closed off for markets, children, people, bikes, cars …aagh. I have never seen it so busy. Eventually we made it up to the relative calm of the Cimetière Marin and lighthouse where there are wonderful views. 

Then up to the top for the real panorama - once more full of people with huge numbers of children.

And off to the other side of the hill to look over the lagoon and long beach we have so often enjoyed - vines of  Picpoul de Pinet between the étang and the sea.

We moved on to Bouzigues - busy but not too bad and no one much at the Tabarka end where the latines are moored. Despite the fact Bouzigues has but one bar not even on the waterfront road we found fruit juices served in a clothes shop! very welcome they were too.

Finally to our hotel in Mèze where we seem to be the only guests! No staff here overnight so we must leave keys at the desk in the morning…we feel like raiding the other rooms for loo roll! But we have a big room with large balcony overlooking the town and it’s comfortable. 

A nice but quite expensive dinner by the harbour in a stylish restaurant with rather strange light effects.

The End is Nigh

Our last few days have been sun filled and warm - until last night when Adrian finally got his storm! We’d been to Bédoin in the morning, not for the market but to visit the village. Once you walk up into the streets above the market the din suddenly ceases and it is really quiet up by the church. Now thoroughly restored, if somewhat severely. And it was hot. Too many people in the streets below so we escaped to Caromb for coffee and another village inspection.

The former grandees of Caromb did not encourage the washing of dirty linen in public- this ornate fountain n’est pas un lavoir! Look carefully and you will see a rim of metal hooks around the edge. Specifically designed to shred the fibres of any sheets or garment! To be fair, it was really to stop soap being introduced into the water which was intended for animals to drink, and other proper lavoirs were installed elsewhere.

So today started grey after the storm, but soon brightened.  We are busy packing up and having lunch in Roaix, outside again hooray. 

Then distributing my cyclamen to the neighbours.

Off tomorrow to Mèze via Sète