Lanton, France (Day 2)

On the Aire with us is a Dutch van. Yes, the occupants, two men and a woman are noisy. They like a drink, a smoke and to sit outside until midnight and the woman cackles like a witch. The van is not so large and Angela wonders about the sleeping arrangements. Who takes a 'spare' male on holiday with them? Despite wet weather during the night and early this morning all was quiet on the Aire until around nine. Later obviously for the Dutch. Over in the corner a man decided to run his engine to charge his leisure battery. The French muttered about it loudly, but no one confronted him. As we all slowly inhaled copious amounts of carbon monoxide Johnny English commented a little louder than the French that it 'was out 'of order'. You tell him. A lady passed by wheeling a cassette toilet for emptying. Well there's an unusual sight. It's normally the man's job. her husband probably told her, you use it, you lose it. The weather improved we decided to drive about thirty miles south, we know, daring, to  Europe's largest sand dune at Pilat. It stands a whopping one hundred metres tall. We've seen it before, but as we were cycling at the time Angela went up whilst John stayed with the bicycles. This time we wanted to summit it together. Walking on soft fine sand is difficult, fortunately now, steps are in place to help with the climb.

The temperature now a respectable 24 c and the sky returned to a shade of blue that enhances a view, we sat on the top of the dune and took in the views. One towards the bay of Arcachon and the other over the pine forests and the cycle paths that snaked through them. We remember those cycle paths only too well. Up hill and down dale through the dunes. Not pleasant. A breeze skimmed the top of the sand, sand blasting our legs. Ouch! Angela knew the descent off the dune was not too her liking, so rather than take the steps we chose to walk down through the soft sand which sucked at our shoes and topped over our socks. But we didn't mind. Late afternoon we returned to the little Aire at Lanton. We were surprised to see how much space was available, including ours from earlier today. In we go Marge.

On our return journey we stopped to photograph the water tower. In France most of them are works of art, and the one today had been painted to portray the area. It was stunning. John also spotted yet another unusual vending machine. This one selling fresh flowers. What would be next? This evening we hoped to see the comet, but alas no. The cloud cover was just too thick. We'll look out for it again tomorrow evening when we will be just a little further up the coast.

Lanton, France

It felt really good to Angela to be back at Bordeaux yesterday. The last few days she has felt more comfortable with Marge's situation, and being closer to the north coast now meant in the unlikely event of something going wrong we were now closer to home. Over the last few months Angela has suffered with increasing bouts of anxiety. When we arrived in France at the beginning of September she felt happy and almost carefree. When Marge's gas strut broke she wasn't overly bothered, but when it became apparent that Marge had quite a serious problem with her cooling system and we were heading south and towards the Pyrenees it all felt just a little too much. As with all aspects of mental health, some days it's O.K. not to be O.K. Feeling relaxed and happier early this morning with our side vents on the roof tent open Angela watched the sun come up, lighting the balls of cotton wool clouds, turning them the colour of a ripe peach. Today was going to be a good day. Because of our unexpected guests arriving yesterday afternoon on the campsite, and with no sign of them leaving this morning we decided to back track ever so slightly to Arcachon bay. We had hoped to drive this way when heading south a few weeks ago, but the forecast of strong winds gusting to 40 mph on the coast drove us inland. As we drove along the flat terrain through the pine forests of the Landes area we were glad to be able to visit this area after all.

The little Aire at Lanton is a few metres from the tiny harbour and sandy beach which overlooks the vast bay of Arcachon where the best oysters in France are reportedly farmed. The Aire was free until two years ago, and now a charge of ten euros plus seventy nine cents tourist tax per person has been implemented from April 1st until September 30th. It doesn't surprise us. This close to the beach, why should it be free. We arrived at lunchtime just in time to witness a motorhome far too large for a space finding itself stuck between two other vehicles. We couldn't understand why, when there were three other more suitable spaces available. Of course the van was surrounded by French men all with an opinion. Eventually like a cork from a bottle of Bordeaux the van released itself, only then in rage to be driven into a wooden post by its not so capable driver. Not happy with the damaged caused to his van the driver then negotiated badly parking near to us, one space away thankfully. We all held our breath as he nearly took out his wife and the van behind him. Excitement over, a French lady was soon quick to tell Angela we should not be parking our vehicle in the area for camping-cars. Angela was quick to tell her, yes we could and yes we would. She skulked off tapping her head. Angela commented that no, she was not either mad or touched in the head. Yes we're English. Deal with it! We talked a while with some Germans, the lady thinking these large vans that monopolised the Aire should all be on campsites. No comment. Everyone on the Aire now calm, we spent some time just reading before heading out for a walk at four o' clock when it felt a little cooler.

Cooler being 30 c. We really love this area. It is close to both Bordeaux and la Rochelle, but less touristy. We like the vibe here. As the light began to dim, early evening drinks drunk, a lady stopped to speak to the man behind about his German shepherd dog. As always Angela can understand some of the conversation, but not all. It appeared to her that, the dog, ate, it was hot and it was there. All good then. By this evening our French neighbours have warmed to us. Marge has piqued their curiosity and they are keen to take a look inside her and know how much she costs us. One lady even stroked, yes stroked her nearside wing as she passed by. That's taking adoration to a whole new level Marge. Let's check out the sunset now.