Roquefort

This morning Angela felt weary. She hadn't slept well hearing the nearby church bells sound at three, four and five o'clock after which the patter of light falling rain lulled her back to sleep. What on earth was wrong with Marge? Please stay strong Marge and keep going. 

As lovely as the Pyrenees were with pretty houses and prosperous looking small towns the mountains were proofing to be a challenge. So we decided to head a little inland stopping first outside Benejacq for shopping.

The supermarket was busy with people who had no patience pushing and shoving Angela as she tried to shop. If they were like this at Easter, heaven knows what their behaviour was like at Christmas. 

O.K. Marge, fingers crossed, let's go. All went well. As we drove John, telephoned the garage in Poole that maintains our vehicles. If Marge was driving alright and her engine not dropping into safe mode, they thought all would be fine. Reassured, we stopped for lunch at the riverside town of Aire sur l'Adour. In the car park there was a chippy van. Chip butty for lunch then. We already had a baguette; it was a no brainer.

Some foods make life seem that little bit brighter. Before leaving the town we secured Marge and took a walk stopping at the stunning cathedral, St. John Baptiste. It was beautiful inside.

The cathedral is on the route to Santiago de Compostela, and it is one of the places that the pilgrims can stop to have their Camino passport stamped as they walk the way of St. James.

Outside the cathedral was the familiar Camino symbol of a staff and scallop shell. 

Firing up Marge ready to leave, John noticed Marge's engine management light was no longer illuminated. That little prayer Angela had uttered in the cathedral had worked. Miracal's do happen. Right Marge. You've caught our attention. We'll try and treat you with a little more consideration from now on. Quick, let's get to our overnight stop.

The small town of Roquefort, famous for its cheese has an aire by a very tired looking campsite.

Just after we arrived, more vans appeared. All French. All friendly. These last couple of days we have been waved to by French van drivers, spoken too by French people, and even parked next to by French vans. What's going on Marge? What's changed? Hoping to rest a while before we went out for a walk another French van arrived. The man so friendly he shook both our hands (quick sanitise), kept slapping John on the shoulder and was keen to show off his van. He spoke to us at length in French and English. Wrote figures on Angela's pad to show how much his van and television aerial had cost, and explained to us why the vans had to have a television. It was their home on wheels. That's answered that question then. Keen to walk out we explained we needed to promenade.

We walked through the nearby trees, John looking for fungi with no luck. However he did find the skull of a fox.

And yes, it's coming home with us!

We also stumbled along a disused railway line buried beneath the fallen leaves and bracken. 

Today has ended well. What a difference a day makes Marge. We are all much happier this evening. We have everything crossed hoping that Marge's little wobble will not repeat itself. Tomorrow we will once again be on the Atlantic coast and are looking forward to it. The weather forecast for Easter is looking good so we expect the area to be busy.