Le Bois-Plage-en-Re, Ile de Re, Charente-Maritime

This morning Angela was up early keen, to hand wash a few items whilst we still had access to a constant supply of hot water. Every other morning on the campsite it has been sunny, and more often than not breezy. This morning, no sun, and no breeze. We had until midday to vacate our pitch and didn't want a van full of wet clothing. But good fortune was with us, and the sun which was constantly being swallowed by the cloud, broke loose. On cue, a whisper of a breeze slowly moved the washing on the line. At five minutes to twelve, everything was dry apart from one pair of slightly damp socks. Thank god. Washing done it was time to leave. Leave La Flotte, not the Ile de Re. On some of the motorhome Facebook groups Angela follows, there are reports of increasing numbers of visitors around the Brittany coast. Northern Brittany in particular as on July 5th the Tour de France cycle race begins. All the campsites around Caen, Bayeaux and St. Malo our full around that time as the tour begins in this area. We don't like crowds or chaos, and we love the Ile de Re. After our walk out yesterday evening how could we leave the island so soon. 

The beautiful colours lit by the setting sun, of the boats sat lopsided on the sand as the tide ebbed made for a perfect evening. We couldn't leave, we didn't need to leave. So after a quick shop we headed up the island to an official overnight parking spot at Le Bois-Plage-en-Re. We've stayed here before, both in Marge and Muddy Marge. There is space for four vans. Fortunately there were were none. Pick your spot Margery.

 Today was supposed to be a lot cooler than late. It wasn't. Yes, more breeze, but the sun high in the summer sky was intense. After our early awakening, we read a while and waited for the temperature to drop before walking out.

The beaches on the island are stunning, and the one here just a few metres away is no exception. 

The view along the white sand beach is magical. The smell of the ocean, salt and seaweed is all here. Early evening we were joined by a young English man. He'd taken the overnight ferry from Dieppe, stopped a few times to rest, and lured by the thought of warm dry weather kept driving. He told us it was raining in Dieppe when he arrived. His attire, jeans and a jumper. His planned onward trip over the next month, France, over the Pyrenees into Spain, Andorra and perhaps Italy. After two years of renovating his van, this is his first European trip. Oh to be young and energetic. We could feel his excitement, envied his youth, but knew we shared the same ethos as us.  Travelling is not running away, but living life before it runs from you, which is how we intend to carry on with ours.

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.