apathtosomewhere

We actually woke up early – around 7am and was a bit alarmed that it was still quite dark. The rain was still splattering on the roof of the Van so we dozed until it got slightly lighter at 8am. What a miserable day.

We packed up, did a couple of Van ablutions and headed west. The tide was in – the first time we had seen the water cover the lovely sandy beaches and followed the directions to the Pont Levre running across the River Rance. There was a long queue of vehicles across the bridge and on the far side, the blue flashing lights of an emergency vehicle – oh no, there hadn’t been an accident? So we all came to a halt on the bank of the Rance and watched a whirlpool of turbulent water rushing past as if it had been dammed and wondered why. Suddenly, the blue flashing light disappeared and the traffic began to move and we were off. We were intrigued by this bridge as it appeared, with the gushing water, something to do with hydro power, yet it needed to be raised to let boats through – it was still quite wide here. A cluster of concrete buildings stamped with the letters EDF, the French power company, confirmed our suspicions and a quick Google clarified it! It was a tidal hydro power station!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rance_Tidal_Power_Station

The rain had stopped and the cloud was breaking up, allowing little spots of blue to seep through. We headed to the town of St Briac sur Mer and to a particular little bakery which has been recommended by a local resident we know. The area we drove through was very pretty and quaint – we found a parking space that the Van sort of fitted into and wandered back down to the square where La Briacine patisserie was to be found. We took turns to dribble over the confectionery and ate our breakfast outside under the awning. A perfect spot. Afterwards, we went back in and spent many Euros buying lunch, a couple of baguettes and a big jar of icecream (and hoped it would fit in the Van’s freezer together with all the other food stuffed in there already).

https://www.labriacine.fr/?srsltid=AU7gw4VMfPYBhdHmy8kvXtVQeQ8gghn_ZP4G_y3prxg92IyHsdH0SZ5F

What a lovely start to the day with this little gem – we jumped into the Van and tried to get back onto the main road, except the Satnav decided that we needed a quick tour of all the narrow back streets nearby. Just a tad tense. Just one downfall with Satnavs – they can’t differentiate if you’re in a little Mini or a huge 6m campervan, so if it saves a minute or half a metre, you’re going down there. Somehow, we popped out onto the main street unscathed (the little streets were very pretty, by the way) and we carried on along the Emeraude Coast as this coastline is called. It is quite stunning.

Late last week, we had heard “reports” that France was running out of diesel which wasn’t good news for us, but it was soon reported that the TotalEnergie petrol stations were selling diesel at 2.25 euros, a lot cheaper than their rivals. (The price of fuel was jumping up almost daily). So everyone was heading to their fuel stations and filling up, taking advantage of the good prices, causing queues to spill out onto main roads. Over the weekend, we noticed that these places were now closed, having run out of diesel because of the demand. So it was a bit of a storm in a teacup, but just shows how we all panic so easily.

We were now looking for a place to park – overlooking a beach preferably and to have a spot of relaxation. We headed to St Jacut de la Mer, at the end of a long headland jutting out to sea. It was quite a big town, full of big detached houses overlooking each other. We spotted an Aire, but decided to go further to the tip of the headland as it promised a beach. When we got there, the two car parks had height restriction barriers which was disappointing so we turned around (like two other campervans doing the same as us) and went looking for the Aire. We couldn’t find it, so retraced our steps until we realised that we hadn’t gone down the road far enough! Doh. It looked like we were casing the joint, cruising up and down. The Aire also had a barrier and didn’t have a view, but we downloaded the QR app for future reference and headed off to Saint Cast le Guildo, another headland of the Emeraude coastline.

We found the perfect spot at Plage de Pen Guen – a car park with several campers in, overlooking a beautiful sandy bay. At the entrance was half a height barrier on one side which was odd, but didn’t think much of it. We parked and headed to the beach with the Pup – the signs informed us that dogs were allowed on the beach, but on a lead. How can you take your hound on a beach and keep it on a lead? Could understand if it was heaving with people, but this was practically deserted and the couple of dogs already there, were charging around off lead anyway. So we had a lovely walk with our Pup, burning off some excessive energy, along the gorgeous sand and the waves crashing in the surf. We returned to the Van to make a brew and eat our salad bowls from St Briac, when a French guy in a little white van pulled up and spoke to Hubby in high speed French. Seeing Hubby’s bemused look, he left us to it and spoke to another couple parking their van, before disappearing. The lovely campervan lady came over and spoke in broken English, telling us that the chap had told her that campervans were not allowed in this car park, that the height barrier had “exploded” and that there was another car park nearer town. She then jumped in her van and drove off – we were in the middle of boiling water and thought about staying as there were other campers still there, but had left their vans to go for a walk. We decided to head off – not wanting to incur a big fine or being clamped – to find another place and enjoy our lunch without being hassled.

We soon found ourselves on the seafront in the centre of town, after passing the other Van car park (a horrible dusty patch of ground down a side road). The satnav took us down yet another brief but exciting detour of back roads. We were hoping to get to the marina, but now we were dealing with width restrictions so we abandoned that idea and squeezed onto a small car park – not sure we were allowed, but there were no signs saying “don’t”. We re-boiled our water and ate our salad bowls looking out to sea and the marina, before I nipped into town for some milk, cheese and other bits. The town centre was deserted, the shops firmly shut except the odd restaurant – obviously the town took Sunday and Monday off as the weekend. With the mission completed we headed off to find our campsite, though somehow we went wrong twice and did our own little tour around the town and surrounding area without the satnavs help! Finally, we found it and checked in – our pitch was perched high on the edge of the headland with a great view of the Pointe de la Corbiere, a castle built on the edge of the bay. Perfect. We were also on the GR34 long distance coastal walk, which I was totally ignorant about – oh the shame.

https://www.brittanytourism.com/matching-what-i-want/hikes-in-brittany/gr-34-the-customs-officers-path

I went for a shower. I just couldn’t bear the thought of showering at the Alet site for several reasons – for some peculiar reason, whole block was sunk below ground level so you looked down on it. It was very dated and antiquated and I never got hot water when I went to wash the dishes and pots – a slight hint of warmth was probably the best description I could muster, so I wasn’t holding out for a steamy hot shower. The shower block here was much nicer – big wide cubicles and hot water, but only two hooks and no little ledge to put glasses and other bits on – yes, I know, I’m so fussy, but yet to find the perfect combo.

After chilling for a while and feeding the Pup, we decided to go for a walk along the headland, so we walked down to the beach and found the dusty path to the right. It was a lovely walk, high above the craggy inlets and rocky coves, right on the edge of the cliff. Soon the path curved round and we came up to a road above the marina. We followed the road past the heavily fortified Le Semophore station and annoyingly, a campervan car park with fantastic views across the town and beyond!!!

Another 20 minutes and we were back at base where we cracked open a bottle of wine and nibbled cheese and French bread. Then we made a call back home as the night drew in. Afterwards Hubby decided to go and wash the dishes at the ablutions block but came galloping back as there was lightning flashing in the distance! So we sat in the dark watching lightning for a little while, but couldn’t hear any thunder. So we turned the lights back on. The storm must of petered out. So we got ready for bed, spotting a lighthouse light up the night sky on a distant headland.

Tomorrow we’re heading to them thar mountains just north of Quimper.

We fell into our now normal routine of getting up, feeding the hound and making ourselves a cuppa. We got organised fairly quickly as we had our ferry to Dinard to catch, so we headed off, saying goodbye to our neighbours who were packing up to leave.

We had to walk all the way back to the Old Town to get the ferry – there was no rush as the ferries were quite frequent. There were a lot of joggers out running on the front, weaving in and out of everyone. We arrived at the little kiosk and purchased our tickets – we had timed it perfectly as the boat was due to go in five minutes.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dinard

It was a small boat with open seating at the bow and stern or inside if you so wished. We sat at the back and watched St Malo shrink – it was only a ten minute journey across the river – before long, the boat had docked at the quayside and we all disembarked. We walked down the Promenade Du Clair De Lune (this was full of joggers too) admiring the beautiful buildings set on the rocks above us, with splendid views over to St Malo. There were lots of boats anchored in the bay, bobbing in the gentle tide – it was very beautiful. We came across a little cafe and had a coffee, before climbing up into the town itself and heading over to the Saint Enogat area, some 30 minutes of walking as there was apparently a street market. So we wandered the streets of Dinard, passing houses and shops, down narrow streets – the architecture was quite beautiful where even new buildings fitted into their surroundings seamlessly. It all felt timeless. We came across a busy intersection of restaurants and shops, but headed up a back street, lined with fabulous villas hiding behind tall walls and metal gates, for another kilometre, before finally we arrived at the market. It stretched along a road which had been closed off to traffic and where people had set up tables and stalls selling clothes, bric and brac, toys, babywear, basically allsorts. It was probably the same as our car boot sales, but on an elegant urban street rather than in a tatty field and out of a white van. There was lot of stuff for sale, heaving with people milling around looking at the tables – it was obviously very popular and well supported. We picked up two stubby little wine glasses for the Van and as we walked back down the street for another look, we felt the first drops of rain. We had seen the weather apps and had come prepared with waterproofs and umbrellas, but as it was lunchtime, we ducked under the awning of a nearby fish restaurant and decided to have lunch just as the heavens opened.

It was a real shame as the crowds scurried off and the vendors hurriedly covered their wares with tarpaulin – the fabulous vibe disappeared and it all went very quiet. We ordered our food – lobster and salmon – which was delicious as the rain finally petered out and eventually stopped, though the clouds hung heavy. The stall holders unwrapped their goods and the people began to return. We wandered down a side road towards the beach, coming across a few more stalls before setting foot on the sand and releasing the hound as she was allowed on this beach. Released was the word as she charged across the sand with wild abandon – she just ran and ran in big, wide circles, which was fun to watch – she hadn’t had a good run for a few days. In the far corner, there was a man-made concrete path built into the rocks, so we followed that as it weaved its way around the edge of the coastline, high above the water – again above us, large elegant villas had been built with commanding views across the English Channel. It was very beautiful.

Home

We finally came across the Plage de l’Ecluse, another wide, curving sandy beach and as we came to the actual beachfront, there were all these little white doors in a row – they looked like entrances of the little beach huts back home. On closer inspection some had names printed on them – mainly French ones and we could see no connection. Then the names of Roger Moore, Kirsten Scott Thomas, Emily Watson and we realised that it was part of the Dinard Film Festival, which was fast approaching – it also made sense with the Union Jack flags everywhere. Apparently it’s celebrating 37 years of British and Irish film making…….

We had to make a decision – we could carry on around another headland or cut a corner off by walking through town. We chose the latter. We dropped down onto the Promenade again, pleased to see that the joggers had finally gone home. By now we had really done most of Dinard (we had walked over 7 miles again) – and with it being Sunday, the shops were all shut, so we couldn’t do any browsing. So we decided to catch the little ferry back to St Malo – again we timed it perfectly and we caught it with a minute to go. The tide determines where the ferry can dock, so we had to scuttle down a different and longer slipway to reach the boat.

With the clouds still overcast and broody, we chugged across the mouth of the river back to St Malo and walked back to our campsite, feeling little droplets of rain. Once back, we sat outside drinking our tea, when we noticed a big black cloud. We hurriedly packed all our outdoor stuff back in the Van as the first drops fell – we’re leaving tomorrow and don’t fancy lugging wet mats and chairs with us and trying to get them dry. We retreated inside, just beating a heavy shower. It soon stopped and I wandered down to the postbox to post some postcards which I had forgotten to post – they had a lovely tour of Dinard and would of joined us for many days if I hadn’t taken the opportunity to waddle down. Back at the Van we raided the fridge and had a picky tea and chilled. It rained on and off for the rest of the evening with haunting sound of foghorns piercing the evening air – we wondered if St Malo had a curfew like airports as the horns were quite resounding. Occasionally you heard the deep throbbing engines of the cross channel ferries as they approached the harbour too – it was kind of eerie listening to it all.

It was the first time we had been confined inside the van by rain since we left England – our first bit of bad weather. Tomorrow looked wet too, but we were travelling again, heading west and further up the coast, so it wouldn’t be a problem. We fell asleep listening to the splattering of raindrops on the roof of the Van.

I’ve eaten too much and drunk too much wine and now my stomach is churning! Urgh!

So we got up slowly and sat in the early morning sun – it was quite warm already. Our friend dropped by with croissants and a baguette for our breakfast and we promised to meet them later. So we sat quietly until noon, when we packed away and drove The Van to our friend’s little cabin – we then wandered to the golf club and had a coffee on the terrace. Just across the grass was the owner’s chateau and his helicopter parked in his front/back garden. Whoa!

After our coffee, we realised that we needed to drop off the key fob that reception had given us yesterday. We didn’t want to incur any more charges, so the boys went back to The Van to retrieve it and headed to reception while us ladies sat down and had a bit of a natter, and the dogs sunned themselves on the patio.

The boys returned and we had a nice picky lunch together. It was soon mid afternoon and we really needed to be heading off to our next campsite in St Malo, so we said our goodbyes, gave their dog a final belly scratch and headed off. We only had about 38 kms to go – about half an hour and soon we were in St Malo, the satnav taking us down some really narrow streets (the times it takes off us the main road, down through many back streets and bobs us out the other end, when sticking to the main road would be such a better idea. Maybe it shaves ten metres off the route or saves 30 seconds, we’re not really sure, but its logic is certainly questionable). We ended up at the Cite d’Alet Municipal campsite, on a peninsular overlooking the River Rance and the English Channel and very close to the Old Town. It was a perfect spot. We managed to secure a fabulous little pitch, in a little corner where we could see the sea, so we wouldn’t have any traffic passing. It was a bit tight to get in and we needed the blocks under the tyres to level us out, but apart from that, it was just right.

https://www.camping-saintmalo.fr/en

We chilled, fed the very hungry hound, had a cuppa and checked out the facilities. We were going to stay here for three nights and had a bit of a plan. Do the laundry (top priority as we had only bought a weeks’ worth of clothes with us), a wander into town with lunch, maybe get some provisions and see where we end up and on the following day, catch the ferry across to Dinan and spend the day there (the ferry allows dogs of any size – whoop whoop, a win!)

We had unwound the Van’s awning and sat outside and then as darkness fell, we video called family back home to catch up on any gossip. The wind had got up and we could the awning whipping outside. Eeek! We wound it back in and moved the table – just had visions of stuff being blown over and hitting the Van. We retreated indoors and made ourselves a cuppa, looking forward to tomorrow and having a wander around town.

We’re back on the road today heading towards Brittany.

We skipped breakfast and packed up the Van. L’Hydro is a nice campsite – it’s only fault that there’s no loo paper in the cubicles, not even a loo roll holder, so need to take your own. All a bit weird. Perhaps people have been pinching it.

So we headed off, it’s very misty with a hazy sunshine and heavy dew – very autumnal. It makes the countryside very magical. The satnav has decided to take us down some tiny little roads, just to test our width I presume. There’s a little bit of stopping to let cars pass, but not too much drama. We passed through the little town of Le Molay Littry and much to our delight, they had a street market. A quick google search for car parks and we soon squeezed ourselves into a space in the car park. We strolled over to the first stall selling live chickens and turkeys, all stuffed in crates, clucking furiously – I felt very sorry for them. (you want to buy them all and open a bird sanctuary – it doesn’t help that our daughter’s solitary chicken rules the roost at our house and is almost a pet. A very cheeky character!)

We continued our sauntering around the market, mainly vegetable stalls and clothing. We wanted to get some veggies, but only had a €100 note! We knew the stall holders wouldn’t take it, so we went to a bank to try and change it into smaller dominations. The bank had no cashiers, just a couple of staff in offices to talk about all your financial matters except offer an actual banking service. Well, at least it’s happening in Europe too and not just the UK – we should have been thankful the town had a branch!

So we wandered back to the Van wishing we had a vibrant little market like this and headed towards Brittany. A lot of dual carriageway driving got us to the coast and Mont St Michel hoved into view. It looked magnificent and we decided to check it out. We ended up in a vast car park with designated areas for various vehicles and found P8 for motorhomes and campers (or as the French say “camping cars”. Fabulous).

There was a barrier to enter and at this point, we decided to abandon going in and do a bit of research before we committed. Just down the road there was a huge biscuit shop – we parked in their ample parking area, bought some biscuits and put the kettle on. While we supped our cups of tea, we googled Mont St Michel. Parking there with a camper was €19.00 for three hours and a 45 minute walk to the Mont. There was a free shuttle bus, but guess what – no dogs unless you had a Yorkshire Terrier sized mutt. We concluded that Mont St Michel needed a bit of forward planning and a whole day for a visit. Maybe another time. We pulled out of the car park and within a mile crossed a bridge over a canal which had a little lay-by and a view of the Mont. Typical! Would have been so much nicer for our brew stop.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mont-Saint-Michel

We headed to Les Ormes Domain and Resort where our friends were staying and pulled in. It’s quite expensive to stay here, but, as the title suggests, it is a resort. Think Centre Parcs and you won’t be far off. After catching up with our friends, we had a little wander around. There are cabins, motorhomes, thatched cabins (think the shires out of The Hobbit stories), treehouses (yes you read that right- tree houses high up in the trees – try getting your luggage up there and one had a rope ladder!) and Safari tents. It was very interesting – apparently it’s family owned and very well organised. There was a shopping area with a supermarket (very well stocked), restaurants, swimming pools, play areas and a Go Ape. It also had a fishing lake and a golf course. Wow.

https://duckduckgo.com/?q=les+ormes+domaines+et+resort&ia=web&iaxm=maps&source=places

We had a little chill outside the Van and then met up with our friends again for an evening meal which was very nice. It had been very hot today and as we walked back at 10pm, it was still quite warm. Not complaining about this weather. We sorted ourselves out and snuggled down to sleep.

Another nice day forecast, so we get ourselves organised. We plan to drive west, up the coast for a few kilometres and look at the various D-Day installations.

Our first port of call was the Pointe du Hoc, off the main road and leading to a generous car park with an area set aside for motorhomes and campervans. We parked up and tossed a coin of who would go first as dogs are not allowed on the site. Our last two attempts to leave The Pup in the Van while we had a wander around, have resulted in the alarm going off (we were shown, in the giddiness of picking up the Van, how to activate this particular sensor, but with one hundred other bits of important information to absorb, it didn’t quite stick) so we took it in turns to visit the site until we worked it out. I wandered down first, along a gravelly track with many other people and came across about six information boards with the stories of American servicemen who lost their lives trying to attack the German battery here. Apparently the Rangers scaled up the cliff in awful weather and under German fire to attack and miraculously managed to overcome the enemy, losing quite a few of their men in the process. A 23 year old losing his life on his 3rd wedding anniversary and a 17 year old – so tragic.

The Pointe du Hoc was strategic for the Germans as it covered both the Utah and Omaha beaches – the Allies knew that they would have to destroy it before D-Day for the mission to be successful. What’s left of Pointe du Hoc are numerous bomb craters and the remnants of the battery buildings, two of which are still standing and you are able to enter. Inside these things, there is no natural light, with low ceilings and concrete walls – it was quite eerie even with people wandering around, so to imagine being stationed here. I overheard a tourist guide that they think that German bodies still lie under the destroyed ones. As there are still live armaments and unexploded bombs scattered in the vicinity, you follow a fenced path passing craters and destroyed battery placements right up to the cliff edge where there is an intact battery, overlooking the sea through a concrete slit.

I wandered back just as huge tourist coaches disgorged their passengers, greeted by tourist guides and taken around the site. There were also smaller private minibuses with a couple of passengers aboard who were also escorted around Pointe du Hoc. It was interesting to watch all the human activity and the variety of vehicles entering. The Pup sat in the passenger seat and received a lot of waves and smiles from passing tourists.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pointe_du_Hoc

Our next stop was the D-Day Museum as we worked our way back east. On the main road, just east of Saint Laurent sur Mer, it’s a family run affair with an enormous array of World War Two artefacts and memorabilia, from artillery guns rescued from frigates, jeeps, searchlights to uniforms, ammunition and so much more. There was so much that you couldn’t really take it all in. You could also watch a film, but we declined that, happy to just wander around and read the information boards, sauntering outside to find out about the unsung heroes like the Resistance before deciding to have a spot of lunch at their cafe. We ordered a veggie Croc Monsieur with frites and a couple of coffees – it wasn’t exactly haute cuisine, but it filled a hole. Having exhausted everything that the museum could offer, we headed back onto the road and our next stop.

We passed the bigger Overlord museum, a huge grey monolithic building sat by a roundabout and headed to the Normandy American Cemetery in Colleville sur Mer – again turning off left down to its entrance. This was a major tourist spot with the landscaped car park split into three areas for coaches, campervans and cars. Again, we took turns as no dogs were allowed into the cemetery, so I wandered down, past an elegant grey futuristic visitor centre and a beautiful infinity pool overlooking the sea. Following the path round, there was a overhang where people were gathering and looking down onto Omaha beach, where we walked along yesterday. Opposite was a pathway leading to a beautiful sandstone memorial, surrounding a stunning sculpture. On the walls of the memorial were military operation maps and turning to look down the cemetery, a beautiful reflection pool and beyond the gravestones of over 9,000 American servicemen.

https://www.abmc.gov/cemeteries-memorials/about-normandy-american-cemetery

I wandered down towards the circular chapel and went inside, a quiet reverence hung in the air. The flags of America, Canada, Great Britain and France hung in front of us underneath a beautiful fresco ceiling. Though it was an American cemetery and we had no family connection to it, it was still very moving – these were men who never made it back home, like thousands and thousands of other military personnel, cut down in the most appalling situation possible and in the prime of their lives.

I strolled back up, looking at the gravestones all lined up in regimental rows, overlooking the English Channel and wondered how many of these men died on the beach below. In amongst the thousands of white crosses, there was the occasional Star of David which I found very pleasing, a nod to the Jewish servicemen. It was a very beautiful, extraordinary place and as I wandered back to the Van, I shook my head that we hadn’t learnt any lessons from two world wars and that America, in particular, had become embroiled in many conflicts since 1945.

We left, deep in thought, and headed to the village of Port en Bessin Happain, dropping down into the town centre. We followed the campervan signs (getting the hang of this now) and pulled up at a barrier. It was actually a camping aire with spaces for 25 campers and was basically a gravelly car park with campervan facilities. We ended up paying 11 Euros (including a cheeky local tax) to get in, but incredibly cheap for an overnight stay. (you could stay for up to 72 hours). We parked up and waddled into town – it’s a working fishing village, so there was a harbour, a fish market and numerous fishing boats waiting for the tide to come in. We wandered around the shops, finding a nice little restaurant bar for a cheeky pint, sitting under an awning and people watching. There seemed to be just one waitress, efficiently delivering menus, taking orders and dropping off food and drink to the relevant tables – and doing a fantastic job. The Pup got made a fuss of by some Americans and the passing public too, admiring her beautiful colouring. A few French people have struck up conversation with me, obviously talking about our Pup which is lovely, but behind my smile, I’m thinking “I can’t understand a word you’re saying” – it’s always been my biggest Achilles heel with languages, my inability to pick up the spoken word. My first line of defence is to smile and declare that I am English and I’m rubbish at French, (though I will still have a go at speaking the language albeit badly). They are usually asking what breed she is (or as one man asked today “her race” which made me smile) so I have learnt to say what breed she is, her age and she’s very laidback in French. Feeling chuffed with myself, the French then usually revert into English. 🙈. (I suppose we all need to practice).

After a bit more shuffling around town, we decided we wanted to eat here, but we were far too early. So we headed back to The Van and chilled for an hour or so, made ourselves look presentable and sauntered back to a small intimate fish restaurant we had found. We had no table reservation, but they slotted us and The Pup at a table by the window (perfect) and presented us with menu and wine list. We enjoyed a seafood platter and a pile of mussels with a couple of glasses of wine while The Pup slept by our feet. We fell into conversation with an American couple at the next table who made a great fuss of Pup before The Pup heard a low whistle from a fellow diner and headed off to another table for more adulation. We managed to stop her doing a full tour of the restaurant.

We bade goodbye to our fellow diners and the maitre d’ before walking up the darkened street to the van park. We had a slight panic when we approached the barrier and it refused to rise up and let us out – we’re we stuck in here for the night? I jumped out to the ticket machine which had instructions on how to escape – a few taps on the screen, the barrier rose and we were free.

We drove back along dark roads to the campsite and parked up. We had new neighbours. We sat for a while before finally retiring to bed. Tomorrow we head down towards St Malo and Mont St Michel before staying with some friends.

We’re going to have a quiet day today. No driving, maybe a walk, just some downtime.

It’s a glorious morning, so we sat outside The Van after yet another breakfast of croissants and pain du chocolats (oops) washed down with a cuppa, soaking up the warm sunshine. Somehow we frittered the morning away without really doing anything which actually was very nice. We decided, about lunchtime, to go for a walk on the beach, some 20 minutes walk away as The Pup deserved a beach after being so cruelly denied yesterday. She’s a fantastic travelling companion, sleeping on her mat when we’re driving and no hassle. She was overdue a big reward.

So we set off down the road that runs down the side of our campsite and followed it until we came to a gravel car park. We passed the roofless St Simeon Church sat forlornly in a field and wondered if it was a casualty of the Landings (the information board didn’t say) We walked through the car park and forked left down a gravelly track through woodland and dappled sunshine. We popped out between two little houses which overlooked the English Channel and onto a little clifftop – we spent a couple of minutes looking for a suitable path that led us onto the beach and then we unleashed The Pup.

https://www.normandybunkers.com/omaha-beach/chapel-saint-simeon

One of the great things about owning a dog is being part of their sheer delight on running free on a big wide open beach with the sea crashing in. She had the biggest grin on her face as she gambolled around so happily. This was Omaha Beach, again one of the 1944 D-Day beaches along this coastline. It was absolutely stunning – soft golden sand as far as the eye could see – and with the sun shining, it looked fabulous.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omaha_Beach

We took our shoes and socks off and followed The Pup into the shallow surf and sauntered along. We walked past a large sports complex with sand yachts sitting on the sand and spotting a small village in the distance, decided to walk there hoping there would be a cafe for a late lunch. It seemed to take ages to get there, but finally we walked up the slipway and found ourselves on the busy seafront of Saint Laurent sur Mer, dominated by a large stone monument (Monument Signal d’Omaha Beach) and a steel sculpture (Les Braves) embedded in the sand, dedicated to the fallen D-Day soldiers. Set back were about four or five large coaches disgorging many tourists who made an immediate beeline to these two structures. We just wanted something to eat and headed to The D-Day House restaurant where we sat outside under a parasol and tortured the waiting staff with our French.

The Pup sunk two bowls of water before collapsing on the sun drenched grass to recharge while we did our own sinking of a pint and two rather large burgers and fries. Suitably replenished, we joined the hordes of coach tourists to admire the two sculptures and heard a lot of American accents – Omaha was the responsibility of the Americans as part of the D-Day Landings. We didn’t linger long as Saint Laurent is just a quiet village by the sea and we had a long walk back – we had walked over 3.5 miles to get here. So we wandered back down onto the beach trying to imagine being a soldier landing here on this open expanse of sand ,where now people wandered leisurely, enjoying the late afternoon sun. We had a lot to thank them for.

The Pup was running out of steam, walking rather running madly, ignoring the seabirds. We found our little gap to get us back up to our little track and walked steadily back. The Pup sunk another two bowls of water and scoffed her dinner, before retiring on our bed in the back of the Van. We enjoyed the early evening sun until it started getting chilly and we headed indoors for a light tea. We had walked over 7.5 miles, The Pup probably double that including being chased by a greyhound – no wonder she was sound asleep. We wouldn’t be far behind.

Tomorrow, we have a few places to check out around here, so back in the Van. It looks like another hot day too.

Woke up a bit later than usual and was a tad bit laid back this morning. We had a bit of a jump over towards Bayeux today.

I went to have a shower and was a bit alarmed to find the showers and toilets were both unisex. Camping washrooms aren’t my favourite places at the best of times, so I recoiled slightly. It wasn’t busy so I had the room to myself which was a relief – the shower did finally warm up, though its jet was so strong, it flooded the cubicle and my Crocs!

Our first job of the day was to head back to a nearby caravan showroom before we continued our trip – we are in need of a folding step to get into bed easier, (it’s a big high up and not easy to launch into) a stiff brush to remove The Pup’s ginger fur off the carpet and a hose to fill our water tank. All these new niggly issues thrown up with a new camper, though you will be pleased to hear that we’ve finally stopped re-arranging and moving things, happy where everything is though we still have occasional moments of “where is the ……….” or “what box is the ………” followed by a bit of rummaging.

Anyway, the caravan place was shut on Mondays, so with a Gaelic shrug of the shoulders, we retraced our steps back towards the campsite so that satnav would pick the original plumbed in route and we wouldn’t fall foul of Rouen’s ZFE emissions zone. We finally decided not to go into the city centre -whatever plan we thought of was either too much hassle or just impossible with a large van, the ZFE and a pooch in the equation. (I won’t bore you with the finer details). So we headed west towards Bayeux, avoiding the motorways and taking the more scenic route.

We hadn’t gone far when we came across the banks of the River Seine with houses backing onto chalky cliffs. It was all very pretty with an early morning mist lingering. It was a typical September morning – hazy sunshine and the trees just starting to turn. We passed through Duclair village with the ferry chugging across the Seine connecting the village to the south bank – it was well used with cars, HGV’s and a tractor tugging a trailer piled high with potatoes coming off the ferry as we sat at the traffic lights watching!

We crossed the fabulous Bridge of Botonne a little further along, a magnificent structure that reminded us of the Dartford Crossing Bridge, but surrounded by autumnal fields and woods rather heavy industry. The rest of journey was through pretty countryside, woodlands and deep valleys, pulling out onto high plateaus of industrial sized fields. There were quite a few half timbered houses, some even thatched. A few had fallen into disrepair which was a shame – they were very pretty.

We went through a couple of busy towns that we were tempted to stop at, but wimped out of them both – the traffic was heavy and trying to find a car park that would accommodate our Beastie (we still a little nervous of getting ourselves stuck somewhere or hitting something). The second town was quite attractive and had a long busy high street which was very tempting to have a stroll along, but with every motorist on a mission to snaffle the merest hint of a gap on the roadside, caused our slow cruise through the town to be quite exciting and slightly nerve racking. Cars seemed to be coming at all angles, pulling out, reversing in sharply, stopping abruptly, parked at crazy angles and that wasn’t taking into account, the pedestrians and busy shoppers nipping in, out and between all of this mayhem. Just negotiating this single strip of tarmac gave us the jitters (and a headache) so we abandoned and continued back out into the safety of the countryside.

We hit the outskirts of Caen and seemed to have an extended tour of its industrial heartlands before we were suddenly burped out into countryside. Just up the road we came across the Pegasus Bridge, which the Allied Forces captured in June 1944. As we approached the bridge, we spotted a sign for parking on the right and quickly dived down it, as we fancied a wander. We quickly realised that they seemed to be rebuilding the museum there, with fenced off areas and had shut everything down for the time being. We did a U turn and went to look for a parking spot, but it was quite busy and the car parks that we saw were quite small. We managed to pull over into a roadside parking space (30 mins only) to figure out what to do, suddenly realising that we had conveniently parked just outside a sandwich shop. We suddenly realised we needed sustenance more than anything else at this point and quickly dashed inside.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pegasus_Bridge

Our next mission was to find a place to eat the said goodies. We googled nearby Aires and picnic parks, but there didn’t seem to have parking so we headed out of town and onto a main road hoping to find a nice lay-by or picnic area. Instead we ended up in a grotty lay by on a dual carriageway as we were so hungry and gasping for a drink. It would do – we just needed to eat. We had a quick cuppa and ate our baguette sandwich and half a cake before carrying on. The weather was lovely – sunny and the Van claiming it was a pleasant 22 degrees outside. We dropped down into the little town of Arromanches where its beaches were part of the D-Day invasion. We drove around town looking for car parking, dismayed by height barriers until we spotted the roofs of many motorhomes and realised that the sign that we initially dismissed as we arrived – parking buses – meant us van owners. (Another lesson learnt). We found it easily, paid for a ticket and headed into town. The shops catered for the tourists wandering around, but we headed to the broad sandy beach, named Gold in 1944, and admired the beautiful coastline. Large concrete barriers sat in the sea, the legacy of the invasion and there was a museum on a wide courtyard with information boards placed on the promenade. It was all very lovely and well thought out. The Pup was itching to get on the beach, but there were signs saying no dogs – though several people had defied this signage, walking on the beach with their furry friend. We double checked with the museum people who confirmed “No Dogs”, so we wandered along the seafront instead with a very disappointed hound. With the absence of the usual seaside tat – amusement arcades, tacky gift shops and fast food vendors, Arromanches had an air of quiet respectability and serenity which was only right in such a place.

We spent a long time just standing at various points trying to imagine the scenario way back in 1944, landing on those beaches under heavy fire and see comrades fall. It was quite incredible that the Allies achieved the success that they did.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arromanches-les-Bains

We jumped back into the Van and headed off to Longues sur Mer next, just up the road and to the Batterie de Longues. We wheedled our way down a narrow residential road and came across a large car park overlooking the English Channel. A short walk took us a row of German artillery batteries complete with their guns pointing out to sea. Set well back from the edge of the cliffs and partially submerged, it was an eerie reminder of World War II warfare. These things could fire shells 17 kms out to sea. You could actually go inside the battery and walk around the gun and the rear of the concrete structure – again trying to imagine what life was like in such places.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Longues-sur-Mer_battery

It was now getting late and we decided to call it a day. We waddled back and popped into the little sunken Brutalist building acting as the tourist information. We picked up some leaflets and a book about D-Day to learn the more intricate details of the mission. We jumped into the Van and headed to our next campsite, L’Hypo camping at Aure sur Mer, some 10km up the coast. We checked in and was able to chose our pitch – so we did a little tour and chose No.39. We then did a little bit of fluffing around trying to park in it, much to the amusement of the Danish couple next door. We set up shop and settled down to a pasta tea and a glass of good French wine. This will be our base for the next three nights – a chance to investigate the area more and to savour a little bit of downtime. We’ve stuffed a lot in in these last few days – we just can’t help ourselves sometimes…………

We’re having some good night’s sleep despite sharing the bed with a 25kg Labrador who thinks the bed is her own and is like a sack of potatoes. Will not budge even when you physically relocate her! Out for the count!

We got up slowly and did a few Campervan ablutions – the novelty of emptying grey water and sorting out the loo, all new to us after our recent upgrade! We are quite a team when packing away, having our own little duties to carry out. Skipping breakfast we headed out onto the road again, this time towards the city of Rouen.

We were soon out on open countryside and it seemed to be the Potato Central – lots of little smallholdings selling off their spuds on the roadside. With no need to stock up with tubers, we carried on, travelling through more wooded countryside and smaller fields – it was still crops with the odd pasture with cows chewing the cud. We’ve seen quite a few birds of prey too which is always amazing. The further we travelled west, we saw more Tudor/half timbered style cottages in the villages we went through which was interesting. The satnav had taken us on a seemingly magical mystery tour, determined to visit every industrial looking town with low business parks and car showrooms on the outskirts! The countryside was more rolling now and we dropped in and out of wooded valleys – it was certainly varied.

Hubby had done some research last night and discovered a little village and restaurant to head towards for Sunday Lunch, so we aimed for Gerberoy. We came off the main road and followed a little country lane – initially we stopped at a gorgeous little hamlet of half timbered houses, before we realised we had to drive a little further. Every single house in Gerberoy was also half timbered and was a totally chocolate box village. It was stunning. We found a large and generous car park on the edge of the village and began to investigate the little community, wandering down its little lanes. We were quite hungry by now and found our restaurant that we had emailed last night. We had sent quite a quirky little message to them and they replied, saying how much they were looking forward to meeting The Pup. They greeted us like old friends and had prepared a table in the little garden opposite the restaurant, surrounded by flowers. We were the only ones in the garden, but it was lovely. They were excellent hosts and looked after us well. The sky was thinking about raining and there was dampness in the air. Luckily it held off while we ate and then a little drizzle appeared as we paid our bill. We wandered up to the church and back down into the village before finding a tree lined avenue on the edge of the village and waddled back to the Van. What a beautiful little place.

A visit to Gerberoy, one of the most beautiful villages in France

Very happy, we joined the main road again and headed towards Rouen and our campsite for the night, some 15km north west of the city. We discovered last night that Rouen has a Low Emission Scheme which you need a sticker to enter or face a fine if you take a vehicle within the zone, which we didn’t have. Though there was a bus not far from the campsite, French buses don’t allow dogs of more than 10kg onboard. If we had a chihuahua we would be okay as long as we stuffed it in a handbag or other suitable receptacle. We spent the evening with ChatGPT, trying to figure a way in – driving to the nearest rail station brought its own set of questions: was there ample parking for a campervan, was there height restrictions? Park and Ride? We tried everything. The Pup would need to be muzzled on the train and all this for about 4 hours in Rouen. We heard it was a beautiful city with stunning architecture, but was it worth all the hassle?

Camping Les Nenuphars, Roumare, nr Rouen.

To avoid the Low Emissions (or ZFE) we took a convoluted route to our campsite – we had to override the Satnav as she would have happily skimmed northern Rouen and got us a fine. We found our campsite not far from the lovely looking town of Montville, and checked in. Again we had a little pitch enclosed on three sides by hedges and tucked under trees. There were three other Brit campers here which was nice to see – we got chatting to our next door neighbours. We had a nibbly tea washed down with some wine and watched the sun go down. We’re still making minor adjustments to our living quarters and making little improvements, making our campervan lives easier. Tomorrow we will make a decision on Rouen, but ultimately we heading to the town of Bayeux. Yes and we know the Tapestry is currently in London 🙈.

Another good night’s sleep, though I awoke with The Pup laying across my legs, looking out of the back window. It was so cute, but my legs had gone numb.

We had pre-ordered pain au raisins and some fresh bread yesterday for breakfast (going to have to nip this habit in the bud or we’ll become a pair of blimps) so we went and picked them up. I went for a shower and endured (in my opinion) a tepid pouring of water with one of those wretched automatic buttons you need to press constantly. We weren’t the earliest people today to be honest, so presume all the other lady campers had beaten me to it and pinched all the hot water. Anyway, it did the job and I sauntered back to The Van.

Today, we were heading south to the little town of Neuilly St Front where my grandfather’s brother is buried. He fought in the early days of World War One and died of his wounds in September 1914 aged just 26. He left a pregnant wife back home in England. He is buried in the town’s communal cemetery together with two other British servicemen – we think that he died before he could be evacuated and possibly buried on a temporary basis, but ultimately never moved.

We left our campsite and headed out – we ended up on a toll road which saw me leaning out of the passenger window to retrieve a ticket at one toll booth and lean out again when we exited the motorway, hoping I wouldn’t drop said ticket or my debit card. We are also learning how close we can get with the new van, so these situations are a touch tense. Anyway, it worked and with a sigh of relief we stayed on A roads for the rest of the journey.

The countryside was a bit like yesterday. We were now in the Aisne Departmente, another arena of World War One. Big harvested wheat fields across a flat and featureless landscape apart from distance woodlands. There were no hedgerows or stone walls. Wind turbines were abundant here and for good reason – there was nothing to stop the wind! Then suddenly we would drop into a valley where pretty villages and towns nestled, surrounded by woods before heaving back up onto the sprawling plateaus of fields. Here, you could clearly imagine the trench warfare of World War One and how both sides spent months shelling each other to gain a few feet of territory or to secure a piece of woodland. Total madness.

After nearly two hours, we dropped into Neuilly St Front passing another military cemetery on the outskirts. We found the cemetery easily and parked up nearby. It was the town’s cemetery, still being used and full of headstones of various sizes and grandeur. I had a vague idea of where Franklin was, down the far end on the left, but as I got nearer to the bottom, I was beginning to lose faith. There was a young man tending a grave and asked if he spoke English. “Non” was the resounding reply and my heart sank. How do I ask about Franklin. Somehow in very broken French, I mentioned “trois Anglais” “premiere guerre” and an “ici?” – bless him, he launched into conversation, all in French, leading me to the three headstones, less than 20 foot away. I could of kissed him.

I spent many minutes, like yesterday, staring at Franklin’s headstone and wondering about his last few days and what was his wartime experiences were like. I wondered who else visited his graveside – I was pleased that all three were tidy and looked after. I felt a lump in my throat again as I thought about him and Ernest losing their young lives like they did. And for what?

I patted his headstone and left the little cemetery, full of local French people and three Englishmen and headed back to the Van. Hubby went to have a look at the gravestone and then we had a cup of tea. Neuilly St Front was very quiet, hardly anybody around and it didn’t seem to have shops, or at least opened ones. So we decided to head to Soissons where we had booked a campsite, some 20km north.

We came into the outskirts of Soissons, needing a supermarket to stock up on some food. We pulled into one large car park thinking it was a supermarket, but it turned out to be a large bed showroom, but next door was a Lidl. We managed to slip across into their car park, but it was a bit shabby and there seemed to be homeless people hanging around. We found it a bit unsettling, so abandoned that plan and continued onto our campsite – we passed by the town centre which looked lovely, full of outdoor seating and lots of people. As we approached our campsite, we realised there was another Lidl just up the road, so we took a quick diversion and did a quick shop. We retraced our steps back to the campsite, asking ourselves why we always shopped in Lidl while abroad, but never at home (we tend to shop locally). Maybe it was knowing what we were dealing with a well known and familiar brand name and it was quick and convenient. We promised ourselves to try and shop more locally for the rest of the trip.

We found our campsite easily, the Camping Municipale Soissons and set up home. It was quite warm, so we had some lunch outside and chilled for the afternoon.

After feeding The Pup, we walked into town along the River Aisne under the shade of trees. It was very pleasant with parkland across the street with people playing tennis. We came up to a bridge and looking right, there was the street we saw, full of street tables, eateries and a woman singing under a gazebo. We decided to have a wander around town, up to the magnificent cathedral and through the shopping area. All the shops were shut, so we dived down a side street and came to the front of the cathedral where an Indian wedding was just coming out. Guests in all their refinery and ladies in their colourful saris, taking photos of each other. They soon jumped into their cars and headed to carry on with their celebrations. We wandered up to the huge double doors of the cathedral and peered inside, the warden telling us broken English that they do tours tomorrow, but now it was shut.

There was another tall spire of a church in the distance, surrounded by scaffolding and we headed towards that, but after a while of wandering quiet residential streets, we dropped that idea and headed back towards the centre.

We found the busy eating area and found a place offering wine and tapas. We sat outside in the warm evening and enjoyed our meal, people watching and listening to the singer.

Supping the last of our wine and with darkness fallen, we wandered back towards the Van and got ready for bed. Tomorrow we were heading to Rouen and the west coast of France.