Taussant (Day 3)

This morning a tangerine sun welcomed us to the new day. We were in no rush to head out, showering and doing some hand washing first. Angela noticed after her shower her hair was looking a little greyer than when she left home. Look what you've done to me Marge. Quick someone post out some of that two-pound hair dye from Wilkinson's. Cheapskate, everyone knows that's made out of old teabags. O.K. Marge, don't tell everyone. 

Around noon, baguette and cheese stowed in our rucksack we set off to cycle to Claouey. The weather was beautiful once again and the cycle way busy with families enjoying a ride out on this Easter weekend. We were glad to be cycling away from the main road as the traffic heading towards Cap Ferret was busy. 

Claouey was very busy. We found a seat on the seafront and ate lunch.

A young woman sat nearby stretched out like a fifties model. Her legs covered in mud from wading in the shallows of a receding tide. We nicknamed her Miss Mudlark 2022. Nearby the seafood restaurants were in full service.

Plates of oysters and Fruit de Mer made us salivate. Food porn over we settled on the beach to read and observe for a couple of hours. Not all woman look like that John. If Marge was with us, she would have been concerned the young lady might sunburn her, well you know. On the bench next to us, three elderly ladies sat. Two of them very elderly, John thought one might be a hundred. They too observed the beach goers with interest. 

As we left Claouey the cars were still heading to the beaches of Cap Ferret. We have really enjoyed once again cycling along the Atlantic coast and discussed perhaps flying to Biarritz with our Brompton bicycles and cycling the Atlantic coast route back up to Cherbourg to catch the ferry back to Poole. It's become our number one trip to look into. 

Early evening we cooked pizzas on our outside grill with Mr & Mrs Blackbird accompanied by a confident robin waiting patiently for any crumbs that might come their way.

As the sun went down the sky was ablaze. Nearby the moon floated. We could hear Spanish music drifting down from the tapas restaurant. A perfect end to yet another enjoyable day.

Taussant (Day 2)

As the aire slowly came to life this morning John cast a critical eye over our neighbours. That man's just emptied his waste water into the same watering can he's now using for his fresh water! Look at that woman brushing that dog. I hope she's not going to brush her hair with that brush after. Listen to those women talking, they're like a flock of chickens. I've seen it all now.

A dog in a rucksack. They're taking it with them on the scooter. How's the wife going to fit on? Leave the neighbours alone. You tell him Marge. 

The sun out, we packed some food for lunch and set out. Today is Good Friday, hot cross bun anyone? We knew we had no chance of finding one here. First stop the tourist office to pick up a map.

Then we cycled along the cycle path to Biganos. By ten to one we still hadn't found anywhere to buy a baguette. Panic! Then the flashing neon sign of a boulangerie caught our eye. Just in the nick of time. The bakery was about to close for lunch. 

Our destination was the Port of Biganos. Not a port as such, but a small tidal inlet with pretty huts surrounded by nature. It proved to be a popular lunch spot. All the picnic tables were occupied so we sat at a bench in the dappled shade.  We stayed a couple of hours at the port, reading and people watching. The temperature was 24 c. Beautiful. More weather like this please. 

Cycling back to Taussant we managed to become a little lost. But it didn't matter, we knew we were heading in the right direction. By the time we were reunited with Marge we'd clocked up around thirty miles since leaving. Not bad for a couple of oldies! 

Most of the vans at the aire were with us last night. Two new arrivals came in early evening. The first a huge six-wheeler, described by one of the French women as an auto bus. The wife did the usual standing behind the van whilst her husband tried hard not to kill her. If he'd hit her all would probably have been well. The van would probably have bounced off her huge pneumatic breasts. The second arrival, a silly old git who didn't have a clue how to drive his large van reversed in next to us almost taking Marge out. Everyone watching was aghast. We were horrified. Angela is convinced he'll catch his back end on Marge when he swings out to leave tomorrow, so we might have to stick around a while. 

As another day comes to an end, we watched the sun with a strange bank of sea fog in front of it sink. Our trip is like an hour glass. The sand trickling at first and then slipping away as our journey nears its end. Ten days to go Marge and lots still to do and see.  

Taussant

This morning Marge was shrouded in a thin film of fog which was soon burnt away by the warmth of the early morning sun.

Our very friendly French neighbour left just after nine bidding us au revoir and good morning. We responded with bonne route.

Today Marge, we're only travelling a short way. We should arrive at the Bassin d' Arcachon around one o' clock. The Atlantic coast beckoning, Marge performed well. She'd returned to her old self. We drove through the Landes. An area covered by immense pine forest. Pine trees can be lovely, green and fragrant, but after miles and miles of them they become a little tedious. At least it's a nice flat road Marge. At last! The aire we were heading for is right on the Atlantic coast and very popular. Upon our arrival there were two free spaces. We positioned Marge next to the other English van there. He the moved. Charming. It's alright Marge, he wants to park more in the sun, anyway we would rather have his space it has a nice green area next to it. The forecast for the Easter weekend is excellent. This afternoon's temperature was 22c, and this was the cooler day of the weekend.

So without delay it was shorts on and down to the beach, then a walk out to check out the local area. We have stayed at this aire four times now. It is situated right on the Velodyssey cycle route which we cycled when John was sixty. So tomorrow we will take to our bikes and once again cycle a section of it. You Marge can recuperate. 

This evening a beautiful sunset, as they always are here. The evening warm, we can sit with our side door open enjoying the view of the beach, little harbour and greenway. We are glad we made time to return to the village of Taussant.

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.

Benejacq

There she blows Marge. The wind had been gusting all night and this morning showed no sign of relenting. The van next to us, a long-wheeled base Iveco van housed three children, their parents, a dog and cat. John thought they probably all lived in it. Houseless, not homeless. One of the boys was obsessed by us. He watched our every move, waving every time we caught his eye. The children didn't leave the van except to relieve themselves in the bushes. We didn't know quite what to make of the set up. 

Looking back as we left the hill top town of Fanjeaux.

Today we were going to head up into the Midi-Pyrenees. After two hours of driving, we stopped at a pretty picnic area near Aurignac by some prehistoric caves.

Two had been exposed and a third was being excavated. As we ate our lunch, we could hear the familiar call of a cuckoo. A young deer appeared through the hedgerow pausing for a moment on hearing our voices before disappearing out of sight. What a beautiful lunch spot. We have not driven through this area before, and rather than retracing our steps back to the Atlantic coast we thought we'd drive back through the lowlands of the mountains. Give it some grunt Marge. If these are the lower levels, please don't consider anything higher.

Our drive took us past sweet smelling cows and half-timbered house and the impressive chateau Mauvezin. We were planning to spend the night at a recommended spot-on top of a col. The drive to it was challenging. You drag me up these hills only for me to sail down the other side. Sorry Marge, we're not too pleased about it either, we can see your fuel gauge dropping.

Up on the col the views were spectacular, but the weather turned and it began to rain. Firing up Marge Angela noticed her engine management light would not go out. Oh Marge. What's going on. Had we pushed her too far? After some googling and discussion, we decided to move down off the mountain and into the town. Then deciding all would probably be O.K. we drove for over an hour to the aire at Benejacq. Our neighbours here are English and from Norfolk. They spotted our Brompton bicycles. They also had Brompton's with them. We talked with them for a while which gave us a chance to wind down. It was seven o' clock, nine hours since we left this morning.

After a hastily prepared meal we walked around the town, stopping by the church and then looking at the Rock of Barunan (Rock of the hand of God) originating from Africa somewhere between five and seven million years ago finding itself in Benejacq.

During every trip we experience a couple of days that don't go well. Today was one of them. Everyday can't be wunderbar Marge. Why are you speaking German? Not sure Marge, must be the stress. Tomorrow, we need to plan our onward trip carefully moving away from the mountains and onto the flatter terrain of the Atlantic coast. Fingers crossed all will be well with Marge.