Barfleur, Manche

This morning as we drove through the rolling French countryside on a sleepy Sunday morning, uphill and down dale, passing lush green pasture and newly plowed fields of corduroy we reflected on our trip. Had we really visited Barcelona? Did we really see the Alhambra? Was it really so hot in Seville? And so much more. This time last week we were in Bordeaux. Between now and then, we'd returned to Rochefort and spent three nights on the stunningly beautiful Ile de Re. We both agree that Spain was pretty much 'done'. We didn't really want to tour around it anymore. France is our happy place. We feel comfortable here. Angela can drive with ease. Understand the road signs. Converse a little. And the wines nice and cheap. Before we leave France early tomorrow evening Angela wanted to return to St. Vaast le Houque, so we could walk around the bay to the Reville Redoubt, a small coastal fortification.

We have happy memories of cycling around to the area in the past, sitting for a while reflecting on this beautiful place. Tonight at Barfleur a small village in Normandy where Wiĺliam the Conquer set off for England will be our last night in Margery this trip.

We know we must return home to set off again. Which is exactly what we will be doing. After a medical appointment, and some TLC for Muddy Marge, we hope to be heading to Scotland at the end of May. Life has a habit of running away from you. We intend to try and keep pace with it.

Barfleur, Normandy, France

Where have the last eight and a half weeks gone? Perhaps Marge can answer that! As we left the excellent campsite at Bayeax we embarked on the last long drive for Marge. Not that long really, just an hour and a half. But first the Intermarche supermarket to buy wine. Sparkling Cremant and reds from Bordeaux. Not cheap plonk, but half decent stuff for Christmas. Just twenty bottles in total, and two wine boxes. That should do it. Obviously, it wasn't all for Christmas time.

Our stop for tonight was Barfleur. A pretty little fishing village about twenty miles from Cherbourg.

The drive there along many miles of dual carriageway gave John the chance to open Marge up. Risky you might think. But no, she performed well.  A blizzard of falling leaves showered Marge, like confetti. Our ferry home tomorrow doesn't leave until six o' clock in the evening, so from now on we can just chill. All three of us. We wont leave Barfleur until mid afternoon as we do not want to park up in Cherbourg and leave Marge unattended. It's too risky with the migrants about. If we are stopped at border control when we reach Poole, which we nearly always are, whether in a van or on bicycles, they will ask where have you travelled, and have you left the vehicle unattended today on your way to the port? There is enough clearance under Marge for one of these people to hide, and we have a large roof box, albeit with four security locks. So there's a very good chance Marge will be pulled over. The van drivers are advised to remove the cover off of their bike rack, as this is the latest hiding place for these opportunists. This afternoon a walk along the shore, right in front of the Aire, for John to collect sea glass. 

Then a stop in the town for coffee with musical accompaniment Les Emplumes (click to visit their website and music). By six, darkness had almost fallen, the sky dramatic, orange and red like burning embers. This time tomorrow we will be on the ferry to Poole. Time to plan another trip away we think.

Poole

This is blog 44 of our trip. And what a trip. Where had we been these last few weeks? There were times when we thought Marge wouldn't make it, but she proved us wrong. Thank you, ye of little faith. Sorry Marge.

Keen to make the most of our last day we sorted ourselves out in record time and arrived in the nearby coastal village of Barfleur just after eleven. Right coffee anyone? Pushing the boat out a bit, aren't you? Yes, Marge. It is our last day. Sitting by the harbour whilst the tide crept in unnoticed, in no rush to leave the small town which is famous for being the spot where William the conqueror set sail for England in 1066.

After a walk around the narrow streets and onto the stone covered beach to collect scallop shells, we bought our last baguette of this trip and moved Marge to a spot behind the sea wall where there were lots of other vans. The waves rolled in and the swallows swooped in the clear sky. The sun gained heat and we soaked up as much of it as we could. 

With just twenty miles to drive to Cherbourg we chose to travel the coastal route, a road we've cycled many times. The waters of the channel a green blue sparkling in the afternoon sun. You would have thought we were by the Mediterranean. Cherbourg would be the end of the road for us, Marge and our trusty tea towel which has accompanied us all over France, Spain, Portugal and Italy. Threadbare didn't really describe it. Thank god, that thing's an embarrassment. So are you sometimes Marge!

At a quarter to three we arrived in Cherbourg. Marge had landed under her own steam. Charming. You were ready to give up on me, weren't you? We were just worried about you Marge. Now let's fill up your fuel tank. How much! 

At six fifteen the Brittany Ferries vessel Barfleur slipped its mooring. As always when we leave France Angela had a tear in her eye. We'd travelled just over two thousand miles, eaten around thirty-five baguettes, spent £133.00 on overnight accommodation, which equated to just over £3.00 per night. Eaten more pate and camembert than we should have, developed a passion for apple lattice, met lots of interesting people and seen some amazing places. Oh, and as for you Marge, we've spoiled you with over £600 of only the best diesel. 

The car ferry berthed in Poole at nine forty-five and we were home by ten twenty-five.

The next morning at home our garden was a blaze of colour, the spring bulbs Angela planted in October bursting forth wild and crazy taking over the raised beds. They looked great. The last six weeks had flown by. That aside, there is so much more to see. It would be a great shame if we didn't experience our own country and others that laid beyond our shores before it is too late, which is why we have returned home planning to do just that, setting off again in a couple of weeks' time, if our poorly car is up to it. If not, we'll be calling on you Marge once you've been checked over. To our followers, we hope you've enjoyed accompanying us and Marge on our travels.

Cheers until next time!