Another stunning morning with the promise of another 26 degrees. We were on the move again, this time heading initially to the little village of Rochefort en Terre. So we packed up, sorted the Van out and headed off along tree lined countryside, passing many woodlands and forests. We also came across many roundabouts – they were seemingly endless, so we asked Chatgpt about the history of them. France probably has around 40,000 – 50,000 roundabouts, more than any other country, proliferating in the 1980’s to reduce traffic accidents and to keep traffic flowing. Their very first roundabout, at Place de l’Etoile, appeared in the 19th century, but it wasn’t until 1907, that they thought it was a good idea to get everyone to go round it in the same direction.
We also noted how many funeral parlours/directors there are, mainly located on main roads with huge plate glass windows and elaborate displays of headstones and floral tributes. I think us Brits are just a bit more discreet with such things.
We arrived in Rochefort en Terre through a craggy valley and found a generous campervan car park (7 euros for 24 hours) and went to check out the village. It’s a very pretty, traditional place with cobbled roads running through. We wandered around, went into the biscuit shop and bought some bits and went to the end of the village. As we were hungry, we sauntered back to a little place overlooking a little square, with a tiny outdoor dining area. A couple of people were already there, so we just took a table and sat down – they took a little time to come to us and we wondered if we had made a cultural faux pas for not asking for a table for two beforehand. Anyway, a waitress came up to us, hubby asked a question and she dashed off and got the main man. He was a little gruff, but he took our order and we enjoyed the sun. However, we were in the full sun and realised our seating choice wasn’t the best. Our food came as more people came in – the waitress hung a sign with “Complet” in big black letters at the entrance, but people still wandered in. A group of four young girls went inside and were soon ushered out again by the gruff owner, who crossly pointed to the sign and berated them. It was a bit brutal. We exchanged looks with the French couple opposite us and agreed between us that they had learnt a hard lesson. Oh dear.
We finished our lunch washed down with dry cider and continued our tour of the village – we strolled back towards the bottom of the road where the entrance to the chateau was, but got distracted by a side alley before we got there and wandered up there. It popped us in front of the chateau which was a bonus – it was a beautiful building, with its own chapel and shady garden. The information boards were in French, but I gathered that it was built on this high ground for protection from any passing and invading hordes. We had a nice look around and wandered down to the entrance, dropping down to another village road. It was a lovely little place.
We walked back to the Van and made a cuppa under the shady tree. We then headed off to La Gacilly to see what that was like, but it didn’t float our boat so we carried onto to our campsite – it was gone 4pm.
The campsites are not particularly busy now and we were able to chose our little pitch. We backed onto a children’s playpark which would of been hell in the summer, but now it was closed for the season. Someone was shouting into a megaphone, like calling the troops and we hoped that wouldn’t last long. A walk with Pup later on around the site, revealed it be surrounded by sports facilities and a school. At the moment, it was all very peaceful. With all the campsites we’ve stayed in, every one has been a mixture of motorhomes/campers and small, stubby little static caravans, each with a little balcony/patio area covered with an awning – its almost a standard requirement. This place had a few safari style tents sitting under the trees too.
We relaxed in the evening sun and had a tea of cheese and French bread and the last of last night’s white wine. We’ve noticed that the birds are always singing especially robins, which seem to be particularly prolific – yesterday, one was happily picking up crumbs off our outdoor mat.
We checked out the washrooms, very pleasant and actually got loo paper in the cubicles (felt a right chump going over there with my loo roll in my hand), but we’re back to unisex. Not so bothered as hardly anyone is here, but there must be a ablution block out there which ticks all my boxes.
The Hubby and Pup went for a walk as the sun was setting and didn’t return til after dark – they had gone down to the river in the gloom and ended up walking through woods in the dark. They returned safely and we sat inside with the side door open, but with the flyscreen across as we didn’t fancy any nippy bugs having a party with us and having another Cranefly-gate. We’ve had a few encounters with French wasps who are huge and the meanest looking flying creatures we’ve seen for a while.
It was still very warm – it could be a sticky night.
