Poole

This is blog 44 of our trip. And what a trip. Where had we been these last few weeks? There were times when we thought Marge wouldn't make it, but she proved us wrong. Thank you, ye of little faith. Sorry Marge.

Keen to make the most of our last day we sorted ourselves out in record time and arrived in the nearby coastal village of Barfleur just after eleven. Right coffee anyone? Pushing the boat out a bit, aren't you? Yes, Marge. It is our last day. Sitting by the harbour whilst the tide crept in unnoticed, in no rush to leave the small town which is famous for being the spot where William the conqueror set sail for England in 1066.

After a walk around the narrow streets and onto the stone covered beach to collect scallop shells, we bought our last baguette of this trip and moved Marge to a spot behind the sea wall where there were lots of other vans. The waves rolled in and the swallows swooped in the clear sky. The sun gained heat and we soaked up as much of it as we could. 

With just twenty miles to drive to Cherbourg we chose to travel the coastal route, a road we've cycled many times. The waters of the channel a green blue sparkling in the afternoon sun. You would have thought we were by the Mediterranean. Cherbourg would be the end of the road for us, Marge and our trusty tea towel which has accompanied us all over France, Spain, Portugal and Italy. Threadbare didn't really describe it. Thank god, that thing's an embarrassment. So are you sometimes Marge!

At a quarter to three we arrived in Cherbourg. Marge had landed under her own steam. Charming. You were ready to give up on me, weren't you? We were just worried about you Marge. Now let's fill up your fuel tank. How much! 

At six fifteen the Brittany Ferries vessel Barfleur slipped its mooring. As always when we leave France Angela had a tear in her eye. We'd travelled just over two thousand miles, eaten around thirty-five baguettes, spent £133.00 on overnight accommodation, which equated to just over £3.00 per night. Eaten more pate and camembert than we should have, developed a passion for apple lattice, met lots of interesting people and seen some amazing places. Oh, and as for you Marge, we've spoiled you with over £600 of only the best diesel. 

The car ferry berthed in Poole at nine forty-five and we were home by ten twenty-five.

The next morning at home our garden was a blaze of colour, the spring bulbs Angela planted in October bursting forth wild and crazy taking over the raised beds. They looked great. The last six weeks had flown by. That aside, there is so much more to see. It would be a great shame if we didn't experience our own country and others that laid beyond our shores before it is too late, which is why we have returned home planning to do just that, setting off again in a couple of weeks' time, if our poorly car is up to it. If not, we'll be calling on you Marge once you've been checked over. To our followers, we hope you've enjoyed accompanying us and Marge on our travels.

Cheers until next time!

St Vaast le Hoque

 

It rained heavily during the night, drumming on the roof of the van. But we didn't mind. It would wash the red sand of the Sahara and the yellow pollen from the fir trees from Marge's roof. We thought the farmers here would really appreciate it as well as everywhere is so dry. 

By the time we'd eaten breakfast and tidied up the cloud gave way to a watery sun. The forecast was for a nice day. Fingers crossed. Just one more sleep until we return home Marge. Are you sad? Yes. Are you? Yes. Look at that.

A duck crossed the road nearby with a string of ducklings obediently following behind. Ah, aren't they lovely. Big day in France today, Marge. Who do you fancy Macron or Le Pen? I don't think much of either of them. Us neither.

We only had a drive of around an hour to St Vaast le Hoque. A nice easy run Marge. Nice and easy you say. Why has that annoying sat nav women sent us along a road that's too narrow with a corner we can barely turn. And who put that large boulder on the corner! Breathe in Marge, this is going to be very, very tight indeed. After some slow and careful manoeuvring by Angela, Marge squeezed through. Angela argues quite often with the lady giving us directions. You stupid woman! She shouted at the voice behind the map. 

We arrived at St Vaast le Hoque at midday. The aire is adjacent to the campsite which we have stayed at many a time. We know this area well, and really like it, which is why it was the chosen stop for our last night in France.

Bicycles ready, lunch packed we cycled out to the pointe de Saire. A round trip of around ten miles.

We found a place to sit beside a disused blockhaus left from the last war. It sheltered us from the breeze and turned out to be a real suntrap. We spent three and a half hours at the beach, eating lunch, both silent in our own thoughts, probably the same ones, wishing we could stay in France a little longer. Then reading and observing. What a wonderful way to spend our last day. Perfect.

It was half past six before we returned to the town, having stopped up by the marina to watch the amphibious vehicle that took visitors to and from the Ile Tatihou.

Then a walk around the boatyard to the little fisherman's chapel.

Upon our return to Marge, we exchanged pleasantries with our new German neighbours. They were just setting up their table outside ready to eat. Out came a Hovis loaf. Have you been to England. They had, sailing from Poole early this morning. They'd been visiting Wales for two weeks. The Mumbles apparently so busy this last week because of the school holidays they could find nowhere to stay. 

This evening was warm, and we were able to sit with the side door of the van open until after nine o' clock. A contrast to the damp miserable weather of yesterday evening. The sun shone on Marge until it went down and it stayed light until after nine thirty. Oh, how we are going to miss all this. It has been a really nice day and to top it off Marge's engine management light has been off all day. You don't get away with it that easy Marge. It's a visit to the garage for you when we return home. For now, enjoy this last night. An early start tomorrow to make the most of the day before we catch our evening sailing.

Isigny Sur Mer

At six o' clock this morning the birds found their voices, tuning up for the morning chorus. As their performance concluded the sound of the cuckoo could be heard, stepping in for the finale. After yesterday's beautiful sunny day, temperature 24c we couldn't believe the change in the weather this morning. Grey skies and a cool breeze. We certainly have been lucky with the weather this trip. Apart from a cold spell when we were near Bordeaux and a little rain, we've enjoyed some lovely sunshine. Before we left this morning John took the opportunity with plenty of water to hand to wash Marge. What are you doing? You're a dirty girl Marge. Can't have you arriving home looking grubby. 

Today's first job was shopping. We needed to buy more wine, cheese, pate. French sausages and some other goodies to take home to share with friends and family. In total we now have forty bottles of assorted wine, which we could barely fit into Marge. The cheapest bottle of red wine available in the supermarket worked out at £1.36 a bottle! But Angela's tastes have improved over the years since we used to buy large plastic bottles of cooking wine to carry on our bikes. She likes a little drop of Bordeaux now. When we stayed at the aire on the Loire the annoying drunk Englishman and his wife said they would take back more wine than the allowance. Angela explained they'd probably be stopped at customs, as the vans tend to be. I'll tell them I took a lot of wine out with me from England. Who takes wine from England to France? He didn't seem to like it when Angela told him that wouldn't convince them. What an idiot! The shopping and packing away took a very long time and it was lunchtime before we set off properly. Our drive along country roads passing intense purple wild orchids growing alongside on the verge.

Shortly after leaving we stopped at a picnic area and ate a very quick lunch as we had a way to travel. Our destination was Omaha beach on the Normandy coast. The road junction on the approach was a little bit confusing and we pulled Marge over to the left-hand side of the road. I like men in uniform. Behave Marge. Luckily the three gendarmes were already occupied with another driver. Right Marge, enough of that, drive on the right please, don't draw attention to us. The stop at Omaha beach turned out to be no good.

The wind was blowing strongly on shore. A coach from Switzerland turfed its passengers out into a mix of salty sea spray and sand. They probably didn't envisage such weather for their tour of the Normandy beaches.

Backtracking we returned to Isigny Sur Mer a place we know from cycling, memorable for it's large cheese factory. The little aire is situated beside the tidal creek. Right on cue just after we arrived the sun broke through the dark clouds and the rain stopped.

We were able to walk around the town, buying a Opinel mushroom foraging knife for John from the fishing tackle shop. The town suffered badly during the second world war and there are many references to this on information boards around the town.

We also discovered Walt Disney's family and ancestors actually came from this town and that the original family name was Deisigny though they left town in 1066, arriving in England along with William the Conqueror, so the link is very distant.

We are very close to Cherbourg now and are looking forward to making our way slowly up the coast over the next two days. Hopefully the weather will settle tomorrow, as we'd like to cycle out once more before we go home.

What on earth this ever was we will just have to guess at, possibly the remains of a strange factory clock?