St. Trojan les Bains (Day 2)

 We didn't wake up until nine thirty this morning. Our bodies obviously adjusting to the missing hour. Whilst we ate breakfast, Angela had the pleasure of watching the man from the van opposite cut his toenails whilst sitting on his step. Nice. Despite a late start we were keen to get on with the day. After buying a baguette and some jambon sec (dry cured ham) we stopped off at the tourist office to buy a cycling map of the island. 

All quiet when we cycled out of town at twelve thirty our lunch baguettes in our bag we pedalled along the cycleway that lead to Le Chateau d'Oleron.

We passed by many oystermen's huts on stilts, one a smart restaurant busy with lunch service. The tide was out exposing the sandbanks.

As we crossed over a bridge at the end of one of the channels the tumbledown huts made us think of the homes we'd seen whilst cycling in Vietnam, suspended above a tributary of the Mekong river. 

Le Chateau d'Oleron, was an interesting town. Dubbed the capital of the oyster world, most of the oystermen's huts are now workshops or galleries for local artists and craft people.

The citadel, some parts dating back to 1630 was impressive.

We walked around it, stopping at a seating area on the ramparts to eat our lunch. Fort Boyard and the Ile de Re could be seen in the distance. Old photographs were on display all around the site.

A picture of a couple taken in 1910 caught our eye. That's some hat madam. 

In no hurry we cycled out of the town and along the coast, not really knowing where we were heading. But we didn't care. It was another hot afternoon and we were in no rush. We were in oyster country. Everywhere we looked it was all about these molluscs. Large lorries with throaty engines passed us by and large mounds of oyster shells like snow peaks stood in yards. Realising we needed to head inland we consulted our map. Oh good, there's a town coming up. Cake time. Alas no. It was Monday. The shops were closed. As we cycled out of town and through the pine trees, we could see the green of new ferns pushing their way up through the crisp bronze remnants of last year's growth. The colour green is described as the colour of life, and the new ferns confirmed this. As we arrived on the outskirts of St. Trojan les Bains in the heat of the afternoon we'd thought we'd seen a mirage. A small supermarket appeared. By now our taste for cake had been exchanged for ice cream. Oh dear they only sell packs of four. Not a problem. Angela could only manage one and a half but John easily polished off the rest. Well we had been out for five hours, of which we were cycling for over three. We needed the calories! A quick stop for Angela at the privy on the quayside in order to save Marge's facilities and we were back.

No time to rest it was straight in to preparing our evening meal. We have noticed that we very rarely smell food being cooked from the other vans. John thinks the people in them might just eat salad. They don't look like salad eaters. Look at the a**e on that one. Rude Marge. We however cooked up mince, onions, courgette, green, yellow and red pepper. Split the mix in two. Added oregano to one. Spag bol. The rest in the fridge to make a curry. Job done. 

Tomorrow we will move on. So, this evening we walked along the promenade and down on to the beach.

The tide long gone exposing a vast stretch of sand. We walked along it our shoes crunching on already broken shells.

On a bank by a nearby lake we saw a pair of coypus, though only one stayed to have its photo taken, large semiaquatic rodents. They are quite common along this coast. As we walked back to Marge our eyes caught sight of a large nest high up in a tree. We deduced it was probably an old hornet's nest.

After a sunny day with the temperature once again hitting 21c we know tomorrow will not be as nice and are wondering if we need to move a little further south before a cold front arrives on Thursday. Whatever weather comes our way, we'll just go with it won't we Marge?

St. Trojan les Bains

 

Packing up Marge this morning we realised she's like a mobile sports shop. Besides carrying food, clothing and other essentials she has to lug around two inflatable canoes, paddles, canoe clothing and wetsuits, two Brompton bicycles, walking poles and boots, a collapsible fishing rod and equipment. And yes, we hope to make use of all of it. We needed to be away in good time this morning as it was Sunday and the supermarkets close at 12.30 pm. Look Marge an English registered van. That's six now. The owner of the van said we were the first vehicle from the U.K. he had seen in the two weeks he'd been in France. 

Food shopping done we headed for the bridge.

Marge sailed up. You're keen to leave Ile de Re aren't you, Marge? Places to see, people to meet. The traffic travelling in the other direction was heavy. This was March, it must be horrendous accessing the island in the height of summer.

At Rochefort we stopped to service Marge and then lunch at a table at the aire. The English van from the supermarket was also there. But Marge was keen to move on, so we continued towards the Ile d'Oleron, the road running beside a cycle route we had cycled on years ago. To the right we could see the transporter bridge, which we'd been on with our bikes twice. 

Our arrival on the island of Oleron took us by surprise. Unlike Ile de Re it was more, 'rustic'. A shanty town of oyster farmer's huts greeted us. Marge happily bowled along to our chosen overnight stop at St. Trojan les Bains.

The temperature 21c we changed in to shorts and walked out to explore.

Around the port a lot of the oyster huts were now occupied by artists. The tourist information office was nearby, thankfully, as we'd not thought to ask for a map of the island when we visited the office in La Flotte. Tomorrow we want to cycle out and explore more of the island.

Keen to save Marge's facilities, Angela stopped off at the oyster farmers privy. That too was a little rustic, but clean. At 5 pm, or was it 6pm? We suddenly realised we'd been running an hour behind all day. The nearby church bells rang out six times to confirm this. 

Marge has six companions this evening. We are all parked across the road from the seafront where the bridge connecting the island to the mainland can be clearly seen.

Early evening sirens were a plenty. Six emergency vehicles arrived alongside the aire on the main road. Then after around thirty minutes a helicopter arrived with medical staff. Pompiers and police were everywhere. Of course, all this commotion drew a crowd, including us. After some time the patient in the ambulance was transferred to the helicopter. O.K. everyone, excitement over. 

It didn't become dark until just before nine this evening. Wonderful. Checking the weather forecast for the next few days we can see a change coming. A little rain and some hail, with night time temperatures down to -1 for a couple of nights. We will probably not spend too long on the island of Oleron, heading further south chasing better weather seems like a good idea. 

La Flotte (Day 5)

 

If there's one thing that annoys John, it's someone running their engine on their motorhome or campervan. So, this morning when we had to listen to the hum of next doors engine, he was not best pleased. Angela on the other hand would rather listen to an engine running than annoying youths buzzing back and forth on their scooters which is what we had to put up with last Saturday morning. Right couple of moaners, aren't we? 

All that aside, it was another beautiful morning. Today we were going to cycle along the north coast to Loix. But first we headed in to the centre of La Flotte to the market. The town was busy, a cacophony of noise that goes with a busy market greeted us.

All the shops were open and from somewhere hundreds of people had descended on the town.

At the market we bought a baguette and cheese. The fromager, a real character was serving a group of Germans, offering them and us a sample of Comte cheese. It was very nice. But we had our eye on some brie, and Angela in her best cheese buying French secured a piece. The fromager seeing an opportunity managed to upsell to John. We ended up buying a piece of sheep's cheese as well. On the counter top was a large piece of English cheddar, the fromager cut small pieces from it and offered it to his French customers telling them the cheese and us were both from Grande Bretange. The French turned their nose up at the cheddar, and passed it to us. It was very good, they didn't know what they were missing. 

Cheese purchased for lunch we set off in the direction of Loix.

The ride was pleasant, the cycle path busy, but Loix itself was a bit of a disappointment.

We lunched by the harbour described as 'beautiful' in the guide book. It was neither beautiful or much of a harbour. Just a few kayaks lay on the harbourside.

So we saddled up and stopped at a pretty place we'd passed on the way just pass the salt pans, where we stopped to look at a stall selling salt and samphire. In no need to purchase as we'd bought salt on Ile de Noirmoutier we continued. Most of the other cyclists rode electric bikes. What's wrong with pedal power? One lady with a posterior resembling two pannier bags perhaps should have given up the electric for a little more leg action. Just saying. Don't want to sound too rude and judgemental like Marge.

We stopped for around an hour sitting under the pine trees, above us a processional caterpillar nest. Oh dear. The sun warmed the tree and we could smell the pine. 

Back at La Flotte, after nearly twenty miles of cycling a party was in full swing outside the cocktail bar on the quayside. Judging by the amount of confetti blowing around our feet we deduced it must be a wedding reception.

All the guests were dressed in an American style from back in the day. A band played rock and roll music, the lyrics sung in English. Funny that. We joined other onlookers for a closer look. Nearby a man dressed in a zebra print suit, gold shoes and a dark blue French Policeman's kepi recognised us. Hello, Hello, he shouted enthusiastically. It was the fromager from the market. We wanted to say to him, your brie was lovely, but your sheep's cheese...well not to our liking. 

Tonight will be our last on Ile de Re this holiday. We will be sad to leave having spent so much time here. But there are many more places to visit, one being the Ile d'Oleron a larger island about sixty five miles down the coast. What do you think Marge shall we drive straight there, or stop a while some where else on the way. Whatever. Just don't bring any of that sheeps cheese with you please!