We wanted to be up bright and early this morning to go to Concarneau’s market before we travelled further south. We even toyed with the idea of setting an alarm, but thought that was a bit over the top. We always beat our alarms……
Hubby shook me awake at 7:30 with the first chink of morning light. So much for an early rise, but we soon packed away and as we couldn’t leave the van at the campsite, decided to head into town. Last night, the girl on reception showed us which car park took campervans, which we duly located on Google maps and I even pinned it. I’ve come to the conclusion that our satnav hates us as it took us on a convoluted tour of Concarneau’s residential back streets and dropping us off at a tiny car park, that evidently was not in the right place – it hadn’t even taken us to the pin!!! So I made sure that it recognised the pin, but manually got us back on the main road and let the satnav guide us from there to the car park. However, Google hasn’t done an update recently as the entrance to the campervan park was blocked off with huge concrete barriers (they were building some apartments on some scrap land) and we were now heading to a height barrier for the car carpark. We blocked the road as we did a fifty point turn, smiling at the French drivers and mouthing “merci, merci” as they waited patiently. Finally, we intricated ourselves out of our sticky dilemma and with the next left turn, finally found the campervan car park!!!!
https://www.deconcarneauapontaven.com/en/residing/markets
It was full with motorhomes and campers and we snuffled the last spot. I went to pay at the machine, but a kindly camper stuck his head out of his unit and informed me that it was free (and so it was after September). So we waddled ten minutes down the road (gave us time to recover from all this trauma) and found the most marvellous French market on the big square where we walked yesterday evening – we wandered up and down the lanes, in awe of the amount of produce being sold. I had brought my big French basket on this trip and we filled it up with vegetables, bread, yoghurts, eggs and even a belt. It was a lovely experience and the Pup enjoyed meeting her French counterparts and getting the odd pat.
We bought coffees off the coffee stall holder and went across the road to some benches where we watched the world go by and wished there were fantastic markets like this near where we lived. The road was full of shoppers on their bikes, big buses and coaches swinging 360 degrees around a tiny roundabout, the general swarm of people – it was fabulous, it had such a great vibe and atmosphere. With our basket full, we wandered along the port, admiring the boats moored there and then walked up the slight hill back to the Van.
We noticed, as with other towns in France, that they each seem have an abundance of opticians – not just one or two shops, but quite a few vying for custom. Just seemed a bit excessive as the population of France seems no more wanting of eyewear than us Brits. However, we were very envious of the styles on offer with some fantastic bright and outrageous frames (think Pru Leith and you’re on the right track) which are very much lacking in our optician’s ranges.
We jumped onto the N165 heading to L’Orient further down the coast. Our daughter, who’s deeply into history, mentioned about visiting the U boat pens there. Intrigued, she told us that in World War Two, the Germans had built a massive concrete structure to house their submarines and it still survived. We did a quick Google – they did guided tours but they didn’t start until later in the week, but we decided to have a look anyway. From N165, it was an easy ride to the port area where La Base, as it’s known is located. It’s surrounded by warehouses, marine offices and other businesses connected to the port, with cars parked everywhere – it looked very chaotic. We had no intention of actually visiting, but expected it to be behind fencing and more alluring to tourists – we just wanted a quick look. We couldn’t find any dedicated parking so ended up on a piece of scrappy land where a German VW camper had its side door open, its occupants having lunch in the back, watching the port opposite. I nipped out, not convinced that this was La Base, just to get photographic evidence that I’d been there, but only got a seriously graffiti covered side wall. We decided to carry on our journey, wishing we had known about it earlier but at least we had a quick peek. We wheedled our way out of the maze of roads and found ourselves back on the main road out.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorient_Submarine_Base
https://www.la-flore.fr/en/home
Not content that we had driven up our blood pressure several times today negotiating urban French roads, we decided to head to a nearby campervan accessory shop while we were in the vicinity – we still needed some awning straps and some toilet tablets, so we decided to go and find this particular place. It seemed we went through all of L’Orient’s industrial/business parks and most of their roundabouts (L’Orient also has bus lanes running down the middle of their roads, just to make it a bit more exciting). We finally found the accessory shop on a modern estate of light industry, which looked more like a factory than a shop. A kindly member of staff informed us that they only took orders via their website and then you could come and collect here in a few days. Seeing our disappointment, they offered us a coffee and pointed us in the direction of another accessory shop five minutes away. Bless them.
So we hit the road and again found ourselves on yet another business park. We found a sign for the shop, but the road looked like it ended in a dead end, a heap of unmade road and piles of earth – clearly this was a new business park still under construction. It never occurred to us to venture further down this road, so spent many minutes doing U-turns, stopping outside buildings and searching for clues on the whereabouts of this camping shop. Eventually I got out and accosted a lady, eating her lunch in the autumn sun and she pointed down towards the dead end – the road did continue round to the right.
So we followed her guidance and et voila, there was the biggest building around, brand spanking new and gleaming, its forecourt full of campers and motorhomes. You couldn’t miss it! The downside was that it was shut for lunch until 2pm, so with half an hour to kill, we made ourselves a cuppa in their car park, had a quick lunch and watched AWAC styled aeroplanes make repeated flyovers. Finally we were able to go inside and spent some time, admiring all the products, before buying what we needed. Feeling accomplished, we hit the N165 again and headed to Carnac, our home for the next three days.
It was lovely and sunny, a pleasant 22 degrees as we approached Carnac, but we needed a supermarket for a few bits so again, we traumatised ourselves again looking out for a suitable outlet. We came across a Lidl – that would do as we only needed mayo, salad dressing and beer and I nipped in. Seemingly staffed by only one girl who alternatively stacked and manned the tills, this particular branch didn’t have hand baskets, only large and unwieldy trolleys requiring an Euro to be released. I decided to balance my items in my arms as I tried to find the elusive salad dressing and white sauce (another member of staff appeared out of nowhere – as I tried to get Google Translate to co-operate, he sweetly informed me that he spoke English). He swiftly took me to the relevant aisles, where I thanked him profusely and staggered to the tills, picking up a couple of unscheduled items on the way. The till was empty – another couple waiting to be served – so I dumped my shopping on the conveyor belt and texted Hubby to say I would be back in a min – it felt that I had spent half the afternoon in there.
Finally, the girl appeared and I made my escape. The campsite was just down the road and we were weary of our little escapades today – the trauma of navigating, locating and driving had caught up with us. We checked in and found our pitch under shady trees, separated from our neighbours by five foot hedges. The back of the Van looked like it had suffered a major explosion – the French bag usually held my coats and spare shoes which all had been unceremoniously dumped on the back seat this morning and had slithered off, our shopping bags blocked the floor, the campsite had needed passports so things had got flung in the search of those. We took a deep breath, got the wine out and began to organise (we cleared the Van by chucking stuff out of the side door – what fellow campers thought, goodness knows). Soon, we were settled, the Van tidied, some laundry was being washed and the kettle was on.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnac
We chilled for the rest of the day – we were here for three nights and could relax, no need to pack and get back on the road. It was quite a nice feeling. So tomorrow, a leisurely breakfast and maybe some checking out of the local area.
Thought of the Day: why do some (well, quite a lot) French ablution blocks never have loo roll in the toilet cubicles? There’s not even a loo roll holder! So you’ve got to take your own loo roll with you. I’ve stopped shoving it up my jumper and brazenly walk with the roll in my hand, but am I being so British again? I’m going to have to get used to all this and be more European.
