La Flotte, Ile de Re, France (Day 4)

Tis the season of mist, cool, miserable and damp. By ten the sun had fired up and shifted it away. It doesn't begin to become light here in the morning until around eight-thirty, so on mornings like this the daylight hours seem even less. Goodness knows how we'll cope when we return to England. It doesn't get dark here at the moment until seven-thirty. Just before eleven we arrived at the campsite set inside the ramparts at St. Martin de Re. We were instructed to choose four pitches we fancied, but not in the yellow area, and then return to the office and they'd confirm which we could have. Weve never come across a system like this before. Normally you're allocated a pitch, and then most people ask to change, which is normally fine. We found one that suited us, all the others just too shady, or too muddy. We understand in the summer everyone wants to be able to shade themselves from the intense heat of the sun, but Marge needs to be exposed to the golden rays as much as possible when we're not driving far each day. No, we couldn't have that pitch, it was booked. Really! John was enraged, convinced the lady at reception was being biased against us being English. So we left. No washing of clothes or ourselves was going to be happening today. Oh well, we'd just have to double up on the pat downs.

So we returned to the Aire at La Flotte where the space we'd vacated had quickly been snaffled by the lady two slots away. We didn't mind, it wasn't in the sun enough to give Marge's lithium leisure battery a much needed top up. So we settled her opposite to soak up the full midday sun. A couple with their grandchildren on board parked up next to us. Angela heard the lady who was now in our space from last night tell them we were les anglais. Angela was straight in their. Yes we were indeed. Did we mind if les francais parked next to us they asked? No. Why would it be. One of the children wanted to say 'hello', we really were quite the celebrities. Makes a change. It's normally Marge. Everywhere we visit we have found the French very friendly, more and more of them now want to speak English, which is great, because then Angela can also practice her French on them. Poor souls. After lunch we saddled up, and for the third time cycled to St. Martin de Re.

This time to walk around the older part of town and sit by the harbour drinking coffee and hot chocolate accompanied by snacks of chocolate muffin and vegetable pizza. We were cycling, calories were needed. This evening the Aire is once again busy. There is just one space available for a very small van to the right of Marge. As most of the vans on the island are huge, we very much doubt an one will arrive, which suits us. Our parking space now backs onto the road, shielded by some small trees and shrubs. Whilst Angela changed quickly out of her cycling shorts a car pulled up. Why does this always happen? She'd been caught with her pants down. Which she hastily rectified. Today we learned from another van owner that one of the rules of staying on an Aire du Camping-Car was, you couldn't put your vehicle up on levelling ramps. That was new to us. We know you are not allowed to adopt 'camping' behaviour', like setting out a table and chairs, which we've seen the French do, or putting out your awning, which they also do, and of course we never would, well not all the time. Not sure though if 'mooning' is allowed either Angela! 

La Flotte, Ile de Re, France (Day 3)

The price to pay for a beautiful sunny day is a cold start to the morning. Although we'd been cosy tucked up in Marge all night, once we opened the door onto the outside world this morning a sharp blast of cool air greeted us. This is why we are not planning to leave the Ile de Re until the end of the week when time dictates. We know temperatures will start to tumble as we head further north. Particularly at night. Today would be a good day. Marge was going nowhere, and we were in no rush. which was a good job, as disaster struck for John at breakfast. His electric toaster stopped working. Anyone who knows John, will know he doesn't like to eat his morning eggs without toast, smeared with low fat laughing cow cheese spread and, 'love it, or hate it', marmite. So before we could really start our day investigations were made as to the failure of the device. Luckily, we know a man who'll give repairs a go, and the result was a working toaster (heating element burnt out, but the damaged part carefully re-joined) before we'd cleared up from breakfast. Panic over, we cycled back down the hill to the market at La Flotte, where on our first visit here back in September, we acquired a small potato box made from lightweight popular ply. It has been utilised as our fruit and veg box, and now we wanted to get our hands on another to store our plates, cups and cutlery in. Sadly we were told the fruit and veg stall we'd obtained our first box from was not returning to the market until the next season, by a man who was using said boxes to support his pans of delicious looking local dishes which you could purchase at a price per kilo. When it came to ready meals, these were the ultimate. A little reluctantly he gave us one of the boxes he had spare, and would probably curse us in a few weeks time when he realised he should have kept it. His loss, our gain. We are now the proud owners of a pair of La Rebelle pomme de terre boxes.

After yesterday's fiasco with the inner tube, we once again cycled over to St. Martin de Re. This time upon our arrival, the comical donkeys with the long shaggy coats were there to welcome us. Angela loves these donkeys. They just make her smile. 

As at La Flotte, St. Martin de Re was busy. All the restaurants around the harbour and marina enjoying a very healthy lunch service. It's now low season here, and we just can't imagine what the area must be like in August. So manic, we'd probably hate it.

Our other reason for cycling back was to book onto the only remaining campsite open on the island, where we were told to pre-book for tomorrow there would be an extra fifteen euro booking fee, on top of the pitch fee. We were advised to just turn up tomorrow morning around eleven. Which we will. We need to shower, and yet again wash clothes. Once we leave the island we think the chances of doing anymore washing other than undies is slim, as we just don't think we'll be able to dry it.

This evening the Aire is chocker with twelve vans. The couple next to us, French, in a small pop-top, and like reading. Well there's a result! Coq au Vin on the menu for us, bought from an Aldi a few days ago, at goodness knows where, was delicious.

 Life's good here in France at the moment, and we know we are going to miss it terribly when we return to England.

La Flotte, Ile de Re, France (Day 2)

Nine-thirty this morning the 'green brigade' arrived. Eight men all glowing in hi-viz and armed with petrol fuelled equipment ready to strim verges and cut hedgerows. As they set off the noise they emitted from their various machines was like a swarm of angry hornets. If there's one thing Angela always remembers about France, it's the ongoing maintenance of flower beds, shrubs and public gardens. Summer and winter everywhere here looks neat. Today we cycled over to St. Martin de Re to see the donkeys.

Cycling should be more reliable than travelling in Marge. Or would it be? Just as we arrived at St. Martin de Re John noticed his front tyre had deflated. Air was leaking out from around the valve. 

For goodness sake. What would happen next! Our Brompton bicycles have sixteen inch wheels. Despite there being bicycle hire shops everywhere on the island, the chances of finding an inner tube this small was probably zilch! Angela wasn't worried. There are a fleet of small electric buses buzzing around the island, all we'd have to do was fold the Brompton's and hop on. So she thought. Reading the very small print under the bus timetable it stated surfboards and velo's, (bicycles), must be bagged before boarding. Make life just a little more difficult, why don't you! Oh well it was only a three mile walk back to La Flotte. Ready for lunch, and with just one more bike shop to ask at when they reopened at two o' clock, we sat by the sea lock and ate our salads.

Then a miracle happened. Mathilde at Les Velos du Mathilde had the correct size inner tube. Result! Our luck was changing. Ten euros later. Job done. Our return cycle took us back past the Decathlon sports shop where we decided it might be wise to stop and purchase two more sixteen inch inner tubes. Cost, just over three euros each. But hey, who cared about the cost. Mathilde had saved the day. Back at La Flotte we stopped to make use of the free internet connection at the tourist office by the harbour. As we sat by the children's carousel an elderly couple joined us. The Best of the Bee Gees pumped out as the carousel turned. We were not sure the music was suitable for young children, but we got right into it, very loudly singing along to 'how deep is your love'. Remember that song in the film, Saturday Night Fever, John Travolta fans?  Reluctant to leave this impromptu karaoke session we left the French couple thinking, 'crazy English', and cycled  back to Marge, where shortly after our arrival chaos began. A monster of a van slotted in next to us. Television satellite receiver was duly erected and began rotating at speed. Disaster. The trees above were blocking the signal. The couple asked the large vans opposite if they could all budge up to make room for them. No chance. So desperate was the wife, she suggested the husband squeeze their van into a space too narrow, so they were almost touching the vans either side. Aerial back up. Signal detected, a thumbs up from the wife and they were happy. Not so their neighbours who could barely open the side doors on their vans. A few minutes later the T.V. couple went out. You couldn't make it up. Never a dull moment here in France Marge.

La Flotte, Ile de Re, France

It was a little sad to leave the Rochefort campsite this morning. We have stayed here many times, and in our view it is one of the best, if not the best value campsite we've ever stayed on. As we fired Marge up we hoped she would not let us down, having successfully got us this far. As one of our followers said, she's been a little 'naughty'. Angela would use a slightly stronger word to describe her behaviour. As we bowled along tarmacked roads like strips of liquorice, passing villages churches that stood steadfast, the sun slowing emerged filtering through the diminishing canopy of the oak and chestnut trees overhead. The forecast for the next week is good. We'd already decided we wouldn't revisit the Ile de Re on this trip if the weather wasn't going to be on side, so all in all a good result. The Aire at La Flotte is much quieter now, although it is half term in France and we're sure some more vans will soon join us.

The town is also quieter, many of the restaurants now closed for the season. The rows of whitewashed fisherman's cottages all shuttered for the winter, some undergoing maintenance work in order to be readied for next spring.

Tomorrow we hope to cycle out along some of the islands many cycle paths. The daylight hours are shorter now, and to avoid having to cook outside by torchlight, we ate earlier this evening, a North African dish with Couscous.

But the temperature is still up there. 20c today, and not too cool at night. Might be the chance to put on the shorts again yet!

Signs in the market square.

A Puffball, not much of an edible.