Barbatre (Ile de Normoutier)

 We set our alarm to wake us early this morning. It didn't go off. So at nine o' clock we set to breakfasting and tidying for a quick getaway. Other vans had joined us waiting for the low tide. Ile de Noirmoutier is a popular holiday destination so we knew we needed to arrive early to secure a spot on the only free aire.

John walked down to the causeway to take a photograph and upon his return reported the tide was low enough to cross. He was happy we could after all drive Marge to the island over it. Angela not so sure. Do something every day that unnerves you. Fear is often more worrying than the action. O.K. Let's do it Marge!

Ten minutes later we were back on dry land. Hundreds of local people were already parked on the sands cockling. There was literally thousands of the little molluscs dotted all over the sand. 

By ten-thirty Marge was parked at the aire. Our early departure had been a good idea.

Showers taken, and washing done a walk over the sand dunes where sand yachts could be seen skimming back and forth down on the beach. The fir trees bent from the constant nagging of a south westerly prevailing wind arched over the sandy path where at least four species of butterfly fluttered. Settling for a while until the shadow and vibration of an approaching human warned them to move on. 

Back at the aire our French neighbours were friendly. At last Marge. you've charmed them. There was a silence as lunch taken seriously here took place.

Ours eaten there was no time to linger. Bicycles at the ready we set off in search of salt. The harvesting of salt is one of the main industries here. In 2018 we bought a bag from here, and used it for cooking until it ran out just before we moved house in June last year. 

Our bike ride was pleasant and flat. The warm air cheered us.

As we cycled by the salt pans egrets padded through the grass around them. At L'Herbaudiere we stopped to buy a bag of salt from an épicerie.

Then two apple lattice as a reward for cycling, along with a baguette to accompany our evening meal from the patisserie. At the town hall a wedding was about to take place for a monsieur and monsieur. All the male guests were dressed in vibrant colours. Quite a sight. 

We'd forgotten just how much we enjoyed cycling in France with its designated cycle paths. We discussed cycling to Paris from our home as we did a few years ago.  Poole to Paris. It had a certain ring to it. Perhaps later this year. We'll see. Another trip to add to our bucket list.

Barbecue tonight. Sausages cooked on our gas grill which we purchased last year especially for our trips to Europe. We are looking forward to using it many times on this trip.

A week ago we were at Portsmouth. Nervous about the 'food police'. A week on we can see from our map we have not travelled far, but that suits us. Five more weeks to go Marge. Where will you take us?

Beauvoir-Sur-Mer

Last night passed by quietly with only a call of an owl breaking the silence. This morning a beautiful start. A fresh off shore breeze chased around Marge. Despite vans arriving until late yesterday evening none slotted in next to Marge. In the eyes of the French, it seems we are all Brexiters. 'You and your Boris Johnson'. 

A walk along the nearby coast path took us to coves of flat sand and volcanic rock exposed by the receding tide. Oysters and mussels in abundance clung to the glistening wet rock, vulnerable to the foragers that picked through them. We love walking on a beach, picking through the treasures on offer.

 One treasure we didn't expect to come across was a man who appeared from swimming in the chill waters of the Atlantic. Are those skin tone trunks he's wearing? After a cheery bonjour he laid himself on the sand to dry off. Our friends Trudy and Andrew who live in Cornwall like to swim in the sea. We wondered if they adopted this drying method as well.

The local fire brigade were practicing rescues on a cliff face below us.

Early afternoon it was time to move a little further down the coast. Today being Friday meant there was a good chance the French would head to the area En-masse. The road took us over the suspension bridge at Saint-Nazaire. It is over sixty metres high and around three thousand four hundred metres long.

We actually cycled over this bridge a few years ago after returning by train to Nantes when we cycled along the river Loire to Nevers. A ride of nearly three hundred and fifty miles. That evening in September was warm and the air still. Today however a speed restriction was in place of around 45 miles per hour because of the wind. Hold on to your hat Marge. In fact, hold on to everything, we're going over. She didn't enjoy it. We didn't enjoy it, and were glad as we began the descent. 

We were heading to La Pointe Saint Gildas, a pretty spot overlooking the Loire estuary. But the parking area for the vans had become commercialised. Sixteen euros was payable to join a card scheme and to stay overnight. No thanks. One, too expensive. Two, why throw ourselves to the Lions. We would have been the only English van there. Moving on, the next stop was five euros and very exposed. That's a no then. Eventually we found some free van parking, a little more sheltered, down by the Passage du Gois.

The causeway links the mainland with the Ile de Noirmoutier. Twice a day during low tide it is exposed for vehicles to cross. The next crossing time is just before eleven thirty tonight. Just before nine o' clock someone went for it! It's not for us though. Marge is already suffering from the salt air that surrounds her at home in Poole, so we do not want to expose her to any more of this than is necessary. Tomorrow, we plan to drive to Ile de Noirmoutier over the new road bridge just along the coast. 

This evening darkness fell at seven forty as the last of a sky of marble faded. We are loving these longer days. The next ten days weather is set to be fine, just as it is back home. We've waited a long time for it, so enjoy everybody. 

Escape to the Chateau fans. Filming about to start on new series of Escape to the Chateau. How does Angela know. Email from Dick and Angel. Just saying. Promise to stop chateau talk now. Don't want to get a name.

Pornichet

 

This morning Marge was once again covered in the red dust of the Sahara.

 Honestly Marge, four pounds was spent on you at the car wash before we left so you looked presentable. A quick wash over at the service point on the aire saved her embarrassment. Then it was off to the nearby hypermarket to top up on supplies for the next week as supermarkets on the Atlantic coast are few and far between, and smaller stores expensive and unlikely to be open out of season. Supermarket shopping in France always takes us forever. There's just so much to see, fresh live crabs to freshly cooked crepes. Shopping packed away, and a packet of dried contraband prunes (bought in England) discovered in our under-floor cupboard (in your face Europe), we began our drive over to the coast.

The weather was an improving picture, the cloud cleared and the sun shone out of an azure blue sky.

By four o' clock we were sat on the beach at Pornichet.

The wild Atlantic waves crashed over the rocks and white vapour trails from aeroplanes too high to see split the sky. John keen to paddle in the sea sported an Englishman abroad look.

He had come in search of sun, sea, sex and alcohol-free sangria. Well two out of four isn't bad! It is a thousand days today since John gave up alcohol. what an achievement. 

The sun was still warm at 6 pm, coaxing the lizards out on to the boardwalk. We were careful not to step on them as we made our way back to the aire, where Marge was the only van still bathed in the golden light of the sun as it slipped towards the horizon and an oil painting of a sunset. Our first this trip.

N.B. In the blog dated March 13th 2022 (Le Ferriere-aux-Etang ) we put the age of our grandson down as three and a half months. He is actually three and a half years old. That's auto correct for you!

Very old Common Puffballs

(lycoperdon perlatum)

Small Brown Job