Rochefort (day 2)

As promised the sun shone brightly today. We had come to Europe in search of it, and hoped we would have many more days of fine weather ahead of us.

The French love Marge. she's a real conversation starter. The man pitched across from us waves at us everyday, and looks adoringly at Marge. Perhaps it's because Angela told him she was worth fifty euros and not fifty thousand euros. Numbers in French are not her strong point once she gets above forty. She persists with her French conversation though, and  seems to make most people here understand her. Or perhaps they're just being kind to the crazy English lady who wears Christmas socks in September. Each evening the cyclists arrive. This evening one of them speaks perfect English. The man he is travelling with thinks nothing of baring all, dropping his trousers and underwear whilst standing outside his tent. We have spent a quiet relaxing date here at Rochefort.

Visiting the Arsenal in the town and just generally mooching around. The day was topped off by an excellent meal cooked outside on the grill.

Rochefort

This morning didn't start well. Light drizzly rain meant we had to breakfast inside, which is always a little challenging. Then, when John pulled the roof down one of the longer gas struts bent.

Come on. This isn't fair! It's going to be one of those days is it? Our next stop was Rochefort, about an hour away. We know the campsite there is always busy, but Marge being a car with a tent on top and not a campervan or motorhome, meant we should access the site easily. No. The site was full to camper vans. So when the reception opened at two o' clock Angela was first in the queue. Sorry, no space. But we are a car with a tent and do not require a electrical hook up, Angela explained. She showed a picture of Marge, and the young lady seemed to warm to us a little. John took her outside to show her our vehicle. We really need to stay her a couple of nights, Angela exclaimed. Our vehicle needs attention. We were in.  Thankfully, the day had improved. We have stayed at the campsite at Rochefort many, many times whilst cycling.

Early evening as the cyclists began to arrive we felt a little pang of jealousy. Two male cyclists pitched across from us are cycling from St. Malo to Bilbao. One is from Blandford, near to where we live in Poole. John helped him resolve a problem with his tent. By now time was getting on and we decided to heat up a tin of chilli for dinner. Whilst eating, a couple from Australia stopped to talk. They were much travelled, and we enjoyed hearing about their trips. Tomorrow we will sort out a temporary fix for our pop up roof, and spend the rest of the day  catching up on washing and relaxing. The weather forecast is looking good for the next ten days and we are looking forward to the wall to wall sunshine it promises.

Le Bois-Plage-en-Re

Last night the cicadas did what they do best. Make a noise! Although we like to hear them, hidden in nearby greenery, they are not so pleasing on the ear in the middle of the night. Today we'd decided to move further up the island and as space on aires is limited we set off early, stopping along the way at Decathlon to buy bicycle saddles. John, is very fussy about where he places his posterior when cycling, and for him only a Brooks saddle will suffice. the thought of spending twenty five euros on a inferior saddle pained him. So with Angela's saddle chosen, he enquired as to whether there were any old saddles out back. Yes, sir, we have one. Result. It didn't matter how comfortable it was, it was free! By lunchtime we were parked with two French couples. language no barrier we conversed about our front runner folding chairs that folded down so small they were easy to store inside Marge. Then we set off on our much awaited cycle to St. Martin en Re. Angela had loved it here when we visited before and was keen to return.

The town was very busy, but we secured a table at a waterside bakery and bought hot drinks and cakes as a reward for our pedalling. Late afternoon, back at Marge, our legs nor buttocks were complaining. We haven't cycled since mid October last year. An early evening walk along the vast sandy beach, picking up jus a few shells and shards of sea glass along the way ended  the day. Tired and tucked up in Marge we fell asleep to the sound of rain and an onshore wind buffeting the side of the tent.

La Flotte Aire, Ile de Re

At lunchtime we left the campsite and drove back up to the aire a minute away. Making sure before leaving this morning we each had another shower. 'Get your monies worth', Angela could hear her father say. At the Aire the Brompton bicycles were brought down from Marge's roof box and unpacked. This would be our first time cycling since we returned from France last autumn. Oh dear, it looked like cycling today would be cancelled. We'd not checked inside the bags the bikes were stored in, and had forgotten we'd taken the saddles off to put onto two of our other bikes at home.

So we spent quite a while down in the town trying to buy saddles from one of the many bike shops. Only one sold saddles. The problem here is everyone wants a 'big bum' saddle for comfort. Comfortable that is, until the chaffing begins on the inner thighs. Us professional cyclists, we prefer something a little more 'sporty'. Whilst in town we visited the post office to purchase stamps for postcards. 'Stamps for Great Britain for two postcards'. Angela launched straight into her best holiday French and was congratulated by the lady behind the counter for her effort. In fact she said it was 'perfect'.

Cycling off the agenda we decided to walk out along the coast path to Fort La Pree, which dates back 400 years.

Along the way, we stopped to look across at the ruins of the Abbaye des Chateliers.

 Angela had told John there might be a coffee shop along the way. There was not. So we trekked back to La Flotte, a brisk onshore breeze pushing us back as we walked, and treated ourselves to coffee and hot chocolate sat outside one of the many restaurants that overlooked the harbour.

People watching is fun, and we wondered what comments were made about us when we walked by yesterday. As always, the Aire is full tonight, as is the campsite next door. Angela has found she still has the controller in her pocket for the campsite barrier. Well, well. What use could it possibly be?

Breakfast omelette this morning included sliced up Chicken of the Woods mushroom (Laetiporus sulphureus), much tastier than it looks!

Camping Bel Air, La Flotte, Ile de Re

John is unwell. During the night Angela administered him paracetamol, vapour rub, and one of her 'Jakemans' cough sweets. The medication did the trick and he settled. So a late start to this morning, and cycling today abandoned. Instead we took the short walk into town to buy a few grocery items, and use the free wi-fi at the tourist office. The fine warm weather had brought out locals and tourists alike and the narrow streets were busy.

As was the flea market. Before setting off, we noticed the pitch we'd been allocated on the campsite just down from the aire had been vacated, so asking at reception, we were able to site marge earlier than the 2 pm arrival time which was great.

The site is four star, with of course toilets and showers, wi-fi and the luxury of a washing machine. All for seventeen pounds a night. The weather warm, the breeze brisk, we loaded up the washer. To hell with the six euro cost, it was worth it not to have to hand wash. Marge is located right by the reception, near to the entrance. So everyone passing in and out of the site has the pleasure of seeing her. And much admired she is. We can see you all pretending not to look as you shuffle pass.

 Sausages and roast vegetables cooked outside finished the day of nicely. The weather this evening has turned, and once again rain falls steadily. The forecast for the next two days is good, so hopefully tomorrow we'll cycle out along one of the many cycle routes on the island.