Sully-Sur-Loire, Lorient

Cycling alongside a section of the Loire river was always on today's agenda. But the light rain that fell yesterday evening returned this morning at eight and wasn't due to clear until around one o'clock. So we packed up and left just after nine to drive further along the river to a town where the weather was showing as being sunny and warm.

The drive took us through many pretty and interesting villages, always a slow drive because of the twenty and thirty miles per hour speed limits and lots of traffic calming. 

Our early start paid off though, and we arrived at Sully Sir Loire at lunchtime, securing a great spot overlooking the river.

Lunch eaten, yet another healthy salad, we unpacked our Bromptons bicycles, slid on some lycra shorts and set off straight into a headwind, as always. The temperature was now 24c, making the hard cycle more tolerable. After a distance we felt respectable considering this was our first cycle out in five months, we returned to Margery. Used the facilities, (yes our trusty Boxio compost loo is with us), and cycled down past the chateau to the opposite coffee shop.

The last time we visited here was in 2022 when we cycled to Basel on the Swiss border with France. Tired, but also elated, we returned to the van. Our buttocks, knees and someone's 'quinny', were a little uncomfortable, but more cycling would cure that.

Our neighbors for the night were German. We struck up conversation with them, and soon Trump, or 'the orange one', as he's commonly known became the topic. 

This evening, the first of hopefully many warm evenings to come, we walked back into town in search of rosemary for John's omelette, to accompany the chives he'd foraged earlier whilst out cycling.

By now, we were tired from our early start, cycling and walking. But also felt elated. Being by the river Loire is one of our happy places.

Cuckoo Pint or Lords and Ladies, an interesting plant to find, but never try eating. 

Dampierre-Sur-Loire, Maine-et-Loire

Our first night in Margery now under our belt, we can see our packing needs a few tweaks. But so far so good. The making up of the bed in the pop top, and the packing of the bedding away this morning was plain sailing. Angela bought two large lightweight waterproof bags from Amazon and between the two they accommodate our duvet, mattress topper and cover and four pillows. Job done! Organisation in Muddy Marge was key, and the same applies in Margery. Today we'd decided to drive down to the Loire valley. Because of bad weather forecast for northern Spain and Portugal over the next two weeks we thought it best to change our trip and drive it in reverse. So we are heading towards South East France where we will cross the border into Spain.

Settled in for a long drive, we took in the beautiful French countryside as we meandered along slow roads before finding ourselves on a fast road bowling along with views of the Mont St. Michel.

It seemed like only yesterday we headed in the opposite direction in Muddy Marge, not last October.

 

Our lunch stop at the Eleclerc supermarket made for a welcome break. Yet more 'healthy' food was purchased, but first we needed to find the toilet. The English had arrived...needing the loo! Once again the wind blew, and our planned stop by the river Loire was abandoned.

A short drive further along past Samur and it's striking chateau took us to the familiar former municipal campsite at Dampierre-Sur-Loire. We've stayed here a few times. It used to be free. Now £5.88 all in, for us and the van. With the bonus of two toilets and a shower. Bargain! Despite another beautiful warm day, this evening is wet. But the forecast is looking good for tomorrow late morning, so we are thinking of staying a second night and cycling out along the Loire. Always a joy. 

Marigny, Normandy

How on earth we managed to pack Margery, yes Margery, not Marge, (she's a little bit posh) in readiness to leave, we don't know, but she was packed to the rafters by six in the evening when we readied ourselves to walk into Poole old town for a Thai meal, which incidentally was delicious.

On the walk back, we spotted some writing across the window of a campervan, it read, 'Life can't wait'. We had to agree with that!

We were up just before six the following morning, yet a few more items were squeezed into the van before we decided enough was enough.

A short drive to the port and by seven thirty Margery was pulled over by security. We don't know why, but we are often stopped, whether in a vehicle or on our bicycles. We were removed from the van, our bodies scanned and an official jumped in Margery to poke about. She wanted to look in her rear, but decided against it when she saw all our luggage. Touch Margery's rear, and there'll be trouble! We'd been one of the first to arrive at the ferry terminal, but after a long wait we were loaded at the end along with the other Volkswagens and a Japanese campervan that snuck alongside Margery. Not too close please.

As always the ferry crossing was long and boring, and with the sea state being moderate, a little uncomfortable.

So our stop tonight we decided would be at the pretty fishing village of Barfleur around eighteen miles drive sway. Or perhaps not. It had been a gorgeous blue sky day, but the wind was a little too keen. So we drove further down the Contentin peninsula where we found a sheltered aire to stop at in a nice town called Marigny.

This would be our first night sleeping in Margery hopefully it would be both comfortable and peaceful. Presiding over the site was a large imposing church. What we didn't anticipate was that the bells up in the bell tower would ring out not just on the hour, but every fifteen minutes, all through the night. In the campervan and motorhome world, stops like this are noted as being 'hells bells', and these didn't disappoint.

Poole, Dorset

Just before 7am as promised our taxi arrived outside the hotel. It was still dark, and the roads were quiet as we drove back towards the airport. Buildings and housing surrounded by dry vegetation which shocked us upon our arrival, now were just the workplaces and homes of the people of Agadir. As we approached the airport the dusty suburbs gave way to an approach road bordered with manicured grass from which towering palm trees were positioned at precise intervals. We arrived in good time at the airport, only to discover our plane would be running thirty minutes late.

The first, of what would be four security checks happened as soon as we walked through the door to departures. Unlike Bournemouth airport they were strict on luggage size, so Angela rearranged her rucksack and squeezed everything down and kept her fingers crossed. One young girl had to pay £49 because her suitcase going in the hold was too large by two inches, understandably she was not happy, all was O.K. when she'd checked in at Bournemouth. After some drama whilst a mother emptied out her cabin baggage to find medication for her young son, we were an hour late leaving. Enjoying the warmth of the sun through the plane window we knew we were heading somewhere cold and damp. Temperature in Agadir today a cool 20c.

Temperature awaiting us at Bournemouth airport a cold 4c.

Some of the women on the plane toughed it out still wearing summer sleeveless dresses and flip flops.

The flight was only a third full, and as Angela had no one next to her in the window seat she was able to look out and take photographs as we flew out over the Atlas mountains. But after a while she didn't feel comfortable about looking down and moved back to her booked seat. Across the aisle a Polish man, with the unusual name of Magic talked a lot to anyone who would listen. Unfortunately for John sitting so close he was subject to nearly two hours of his tales. He said he was hungover, but managed to 'magic' away two small cans of Heineken lager and several Jack Daniels whiskies. As we approached Bournemouth the mood became sombre and the reality of a cold winter day awaiting us became all to real as the plane broke through the dense cloud and rain smeared the windows.

John thought perhaps we should have stayed another week in Agadir. Good idea, but no. You have to come home to set off again. Not all of you are probably aware that Muddy Marge now has a companion, a VW T6 California Ocean camper van called Margery. A little luxurious you might think, two campers, but she's part of our ten year plan, albeit she was not suppose to have been purchased just yet, but we were able to get her for a good price, so there we go.

Our car is sold, and she will be our daily drive as well. So watch this space. The adventures of Margery are being planned now. With reference to Joni Mitchell's 'Refuge of the Roads, journeys are life, and we still have plenty of living to do yet.

Agadir, Morocco (day 7)

For some reason our alarm didn't sound this morning. Tired from walking over 21,000 steps yesterday, we'd slept heavily. So we hastily washed and dressed and took ourselves down to what would be our last breakfast here. Our taxi for the airport is booked for 7am tomorrow, and breakfast doesn't start until eight, so we snaffled a couple of clementines and bananas from the buffet for substance in the morning.

Keen to enjoy are last full day here, we set off to the Souk. On our first day we visited this market as 'green as grass'. But today after spending a few days in Agadir we returned confident and a little more savvy.

John was keen to buy a traditional Djellab, and we also wanted to purchase a large shallow bowl to place in the centre of our dining table. After purchases were made, happy we'd paid a fair price after some bartering, we returned to the little cafe by one of the entrances, where we were greeted warmly by the staff who remembered us from last Saturday.

After much hand shaking and fist bumping, followed by much hand sanitizing we sat down to enjoy chicken tanjine, bread, beans and lentils. All for a total cost of £6.40. And we have to say of all the tanjine meals we've eaten this week, this was the best. By mid afternoon we were ready to walk back to the hotel and sit by the pool.

But it soon became apparent that we would be driven back to the confines of our own balcony, as a large group of French people played loud music and sang loudly. By the time we left, they'd managed to drive everyone else away except for one Irish lady, who was not happy and we think would probably have something to say. Rucksacks packed, heavier and straining a little than when we'd arrived, we hoped all would be well when we checked in at the airport tomorrow.

One last walk out this evening to watch the sunset from the beach before an early night. This last week had passed by so quickly. Our experience of being here in a new land has given us the opportunity to see everything in our lives differently. We leave with renewed enthusiasm for the future.