Heading South – Day Twenty Four

We decided to walk into Bergerac and its old city to visit the morning market. We followed the river bank to the bridge and crossed the River Dordogne. The old city is right next to the river and we were soon walking up its gentle slopes into a maze of ancient lanes and alleys. It was stunning, centuries old buildings with timber frames, some at wonky angles. It was so lovely. We wandered around until we came across the Eglise Notre Dame de Bergerac, a towering edifice with the market surrounding its perimeter. The market was busy with people perusing and buying – it was more a food market with fruit, vegetables and other consumables – with local farmers and producers selling their wares. We strolled around for a while taking in the atmosphere – there was a real buzz with lots of people shopping – then headed to a recommended cafe for brunch ordering muffins (well, brioche buns) filled with egg, avocado and bacon followed by coffee. We went back into the market to buy some veggies and then wandered around the streets again – we came across a wine shop and bought a couple of bottles of wine. We then headed to the Quai Cyrano wine shop, above the tourist information office and overlooking the river, where in quite elegant surroundings, you could have a wine taste. We sampled a couple and then bought a glass, together with crackers and pate (butternut and coconut for me and the Hubby, canard (duck). The walls were lined with bottles of wine, set in wood panelling, with low tables and comfy chairs to relax in. It was all very nice. We got chatting to an English couple from Oxfordshire who had a dog like Pup and then we swapped holiday tips. They were on a walking holiday with an organised group and were spending the day wine tasting. Sounded perfect to us.

https://www.visit-dordogne-valley.co.uk/natural-and-cultural-heritage/top-10-places-to-visit/villages-to-visit/cities/bergerac-the-town

https://en.quai-cyrano.com

We spotted a statue of Cyrano de Bergerac outside a church – the fictional character with his large nose. The real Cyrano de Bergerac was a writer and a soldier and was born in Paris rather than Bergerac. Apparently the only connection is through family estates.

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

Here’s Cyrano de Bergerac
Eglise Notre Dame de Bergerac
Quai Cyrano

We spent a good hour if not more at Quai Cyrano and after buying some more wine, we wandered back to the van – it had started to rain too, that drizzly rain that manages to gently soak you. We retraced our steps along the riverbank, watching where we put our feet and looking out for dog poo. The streets are usually free of it, but you take your chances going off road – the French are happy to leave it to nature. We still picked Pup’s up, but then find ourselves carrying it around, trying to find an elusive bin to dispose of it. Saying that, we haven’t really seen any rubbish on the streets at all – whether they take their rubbish home with them or the council have an army of street cleaners (we were chased around Brantome’s pretty square by one of those road sweeping machines), we’re not sure, but it’s nice to see such cleaniness.

Pup had a good morning sniffing Bergerac’s streets and meeting its dogs – it seems that the French have two sorts of dog, big hairy ones usually of German Shepherd descent or little Yorkshire Terriers/Shih Tzus and nothing much in the middle.

We had bought some postcards yesterday and wrote them up while it drizzled outside, listening to rowers and their coxswains shouting on the river – we were opposite the rowing club. When the rain eased off, Pup and I went for a walk back towards the bridge to post them. We came across a little roundabout with a fountain in the middle of it, with cars coming at all directions and an imposing “town hall” overlooking the scene. The post box that Apple Maps had identified was nowhere to found. We circled the fountain and spotted a La Poste box under a tree, by parked cars sitting on a cobbled island – well it looked like a postbox and had the La Poste logo on it, so I shoved the cards in the slot and hoped for the best. It was just in such a weird place. On the way back we met a dog off lead (we had seen him and his owner on the way to the postbox) who now came bounding over to us and wanted to play – Pup was itching to chase him too, but not on a residential street in Bergerac. I kept her on her lead. The lady, who explained it was her daughter’s dog, was elegant dressed in heels and struggled to catch the dog, so after a minute or so of the dogs bouncing around each other, I got Pup to sit so the lady could finally grab his collar. It was a brief encounter – the Pup is desperate for a big run instead of being walked everywhere on a lead, but we’re not sure of the regulations about dogs being off lead in parks or footpaths. Rather play it safe.

We got back to base and chilled for a while, then Hubby made tea. Afterwards I went to wash up and came back, putting the cutlery and crockery away while Hubby and the Pup played ball (dogs are suppose to be on a lead in campsites, but we’ve seen so many just wandering around – it is off season and quiet – that we’ve let Pup off too as she sticks close to the Van). Suddenly I heard Hubby shout at the Pup- the next moment, two dogs shot past the door at full pelt and it was the start of an hour or so of the dogs chasing each other (Pup’s wish had come true) while we chatted to the owner, a young guy who lived by the campsite. He was a lovely chap and we shared our wine with him, as we talked about various subjects and basically sorted the world out. He spoke English well and dropped in a few expletives which was funny to hear from a Frenchman. The dogs hung out together, intermittently chasing each other around the campervans and motorhomes -it was fun to watch and lovely to see Pup enjoying herself so much.

The night was drawing in as we finally said goodbye to each other and patted each other’s dogs. They had both visited the river and were a tad wet. Pup jumped into the Van and immediately crashed on her mat, exhausted. We had a cuppa and relaxed a while. Tomorrow we’re heading to Rocamadour that the Australians recommended yesterday to check that out! Looking forward to it.

Ireland – Day Two

It was still raining when we woke up this morning. Not good.

Today, we had a ferry to catch and with Cairnryan just up the road, we had a leisurely breakfast and packed up the van. Armed with our travel documents, we drove the 15 minutes to the Stena Line port as the rain stopped and patches of blue sky appeared. Looks promising. We checked in. The staff at the first booth asked us to pop our bonnet so they could check the engine compartment, while another chap went round with a mirror checking the underside. A little bit unsettling, but we were waved through and felt better when a little Fiesta was given the same treatment too.

We were ushered to Lane 8 and with time to kill, we wandered over to the terminal for a coffee in the little cafe and watched the car park fill up, as well as another big black rain soaked cloud creeping up on us. With time marching on, we headed back to the Van, when a another staff member wanted to check The Pup and her documents and microchip. She wasn’t impressed to have to get out of the Van again, but with everything in order, she settled back on her blanket as we started to board the ship. It seemed every type of vehicle was onboard – motorbikes tethered down, huge articulated lorries, motorhomes, campervans, cars, lorries, trailers of various sizes – all expertly parked and packed in.

Prior to this trip, we had researched about travelling with your dog on Stena Line. On Caledonian McBrayne, the Scottish island hopping service, you can take your dog to the designated pet lounge on a lead and it’s simple. Stena offered three options: 1. travel in the pet lounge, but your pet had to be in a specifically sized pet carrier. The Pup is a Labrador and wouldn’t fit in the largest one that Stena would allow. 2. in kennels somewhere onboard the ship – various forums and comments put us off completely that option and finally 3. Pup to stay in the van for 2.5 hours, but we couldn’t return to the car deck and check on her. After much wringing of hands, we had plumped for the Van option – it was a place that was familiar, safe and comforting to her. Still, we had trepidations as we left her and the van and made our way upstairs to the passenger area. Halfway up, we met a Stena staff member and asked the question – did anyone patrol the car deck during the voyage and check on any pets left in vehicles. Well, to cut a very long story short and before you could say Stena Line, she had us bounding up the stairs behind her as she consulted colleagues about a spare pet carrier (she even shuddered at the thought of her own company’s onboard kennels – “bloody awful). Soon, hubby was retrieving The Pup from the van, while a staff member erected a metal dog crate and I paid £20 for the privilege, though we were told we wouldn’t be able to do this on the return journey. We sat in the peaceful and private Pet Lounge (you had a door code to get in) with our hound (albeit in a cage – she was not impressed) with free tea and coffee with about 8 other people. Blimey, I would pay for this without a dog. Our brief forays out into the rest of the ship were an assault on the senses. Loads of people milling around, the noise of everyone chattering (a particularly loud Hen Party could be heard even in the Pet Lounge) and just the general chaos of a ship full of excitable passengers. I even managed to skip the huge queues for food – I grabbed a couple of sandwich packets and went to join the back of the queue, when I got called back by staff at the counter who took my money (I also got a cheeky order of dirty chips in) and I was back in the Pet Lounge within minutes. Result. After our lunch, I took The Pup for a walk out on deck – we didn’t linger, very windy and sprayed with sea water – before we were soon approaching Belfast and headed back to the car deck, ready for disembarking.

We were burped out into sunshine as we followed the mass of vehicles piling off the ferry – the satnav took us and most of our fellow travellers through the congested streets of Belfast before connecting us to the motorway in a southerly direction. Our ultimate destination was Kinsale – for the start of the Wild Atlantic Coast – but it was too far down on the southern coast to do in one afternoon. So we had a plan to head about halfway to a place called Mullingar and hoped they had some campsites. We had a pleasant drive along motorways and A roads, through pretty countryside, the Mourne Mountains on our left and other notable hills dotted along our route. We crossed into the Republic of Ireland without noticing until the next road signs were written in Gaelic as well as English and we were suddenly dealing with kilometres rather than miles. Weird. From the UK into Europe without dropping below 70mph.

We went onto smaller country roads, through rolling countryside and broken sunshine. Finally, Mullingar appeared and we drove through its long and interesting High Street – well no, we crawled. There was so much traffic that it was almost at a standstill. We needed a campsite, so on spotting the local Tourist Information office, I hopped out and scuttled back to sort something out while hubby went to park the Van. The young lady was pleasant and helpful, and between us we contacted the Lough Ennell Caravan Park, some 7km down the road and ascertained we could stay the night. A brief visit to the local Aldi for more provisions and some teatowels (I had failed to put the original towels back after washing them -duh) we headed for the site. On the shore of Lough Ennell we were greeted by Eamon and after signing in, we were shown our spot in a little area with four other campers. Perfect.

We settled down for tea and some wine before having a little wander around the site and along the road outside. By the shoreline, there were a heap of paddleboards with fairy lights and the young girls unpacking them, said they were doing a paddleboarding sound bath on the water around 10pm. That sounded interesting. We’ve done sound baths before, but in a village hall – a paddleboard would be a different experience! The Pup wet her feet in the water as we wandered back and made friends with a lovely family from Dublin who had a static caravan on site, who made a big fuss of The Pup and we made a big fuss of their ancient Golden Labrador. We waddled back to the Van and settled in for the night. We’ve slept well even with a immovable 25kg Labrador hogging most of the duvet.