Chartres to Saint Leu d’Esserent Sunday 14th October and on to Calais Monday 15th October

We leave Chartres and decide to head towards Beauvais, but then we read bad things about Beauvais and have a change of heart. The weather is still appalling, but we’re still hopeful of a day trip to Paris so we decide to stick a bit closer, but get a bit further east with half an eye on Calais in case we need to bail. We find a campsite just south of Creil and have a nice pootle along country roads to get there. The villages around here are still dotted with randomly enormous castles and old wine houses.

We find the campsite at Saint Leu d’Esserent (L’Abatialle), awesome place with really lovely people who are utterly charming in their welcome. We head to town to try and find some supplies and instead come across a lovely little bar run by what could well be the nicest bar woman in the world, serving the finest cold Beer In the world. As great as the ale was we were somewhat bemused by the name, as popular belief would have us believe this is contradictory.

Maybe, we mused, this beer contains some closely guarded secret properties? We, however, preferred the story that is was in fact brewed by a distant relative of Thomas Hardy the famous Poet who had an unfortunate Christian name.

After staying too long and putting too many Euros into the Hardy brewing enterprise we made our way back to the campsite. We had come to a decision in the bar (after receiving a phone call of potentially good news) that the time was right to head back to the UK. The phone call, the length of time we had been on the road, coupled with our recent engagement and the need to go and see our families, made the decision fairly clear cut and easy. That and the rain! So, decision made we decide to have an early night and make a break for Calais early the next morning.

Next morning dawns and we greet it with EPIC shab on board! All thoughts of an early night were washed away (by far too much red wine) in the realisation that this was the last night of our trip as we knew it. However, we put a brave face on the hangover and set off for Blighty.

The fates have not finished with us yet though and even in the twilight of your adventure they still manage to surprise us. We have been attempting to wind our way gently north avoiding the autoroute in order to see the best of the countryside, but the roads are just too busy and it’s taking us forever. So we make the executive decision to take the next road that will get us onto the autoroute so that we can make some time. Unbelievably that road happens to take us through Mametz: the campsite we stayed in on our very first night of the trip in France all those months ago. It’s mind bogglingly coincidental, what are the chances???! There have been many odd coincidences on this trip but to end up, by pure chance, going through Mametz was almost like we had gone full circle. There has been more than one occasion when we have felt that the hand of fate was guiding us.

As we pull into the docks at Calais, we have one final laugh which above all else has epitomised this epic road trip.  We roll up to the check in window passport control thingy and the guy asks us where we stayed last night… you would think that this wouldn’t be a particularly difficult question, but it leaves us both totally stumped and mouthing wordlessly, like goldfish, at check in guy. We honestly can’t think where we’ve been and the guy is looking at us like we’re on drugs or something. We try our best to explain that we’ve been travelling round Europe for the last few months and that we’ve honestly got nothing to hide, we just can’t remember where we were last night! Thankfully he sees the funny side and lets us through with a chuckle. It does bring the point home though, all the places we’ve seen and the miles we’ve travelled. It has been an epic journey and an adventure, something that we’ll look back on with no small amount of pride at what we’ve achieved. Whilst this might be the end of our travels for now, we will be back in a few short weeks to carry on trying to find our new life and to brave the second chapter in what we hope will be a lifetime together of discovery and finding our place in the world.

Distance travelled to date 5,600 miles

With light minds and hopeful hearts we bid farewell to France, we’ll be seeing you again soon…. 

To be continued..

Chateaudun to Chartres Saturday 13th October

We awake to grey skies under the watchful and slightly sinister gaze of the Chateau, which towers above us. This is a lovely spot for an aire (take note Italian Tourist People), even with the questionable weather.

We head into town to do some admin tasks and take advantage of free wi-fi. We trudge up the endless steep steps that run alongside the Chateau, well-worn steps seem like they almost reach for the sky. It makes you wonder about the history those steps have witnessed over the years. Once you get to the top the view is incredible. Well worth the near heart attack.

Town tasks complete and fuelled by an overdose of nuclear French coffee we set sail for Chartres. Our first task after navigating the centre ville was to fill with fuel. This is normally an easy task in France as in built up areas gas stations are two a penny. Not so today. With the rain hammering down we search in vain for somewhere to fill up, whilst running on veritable fumes. After a few laps of the town we find an Intermarche, relief. Actually no. There is a height limit of 3.2 metres and Onzo is 3.2 and besides, the pump is out of order. Eventually we find a pump with no height limit where the Lorries can fill; this will do the job nicely. Sadly the gods of petrol distribution step in again. This particular pump is one those self-service ones which are common in France, so your card has to be authorised by the machine beforehand. We insert card after card, Visa, MasterCard, Debit, Credit. We even try the House of Fraser store card and the AA breakdown card. None of them were to be accepted. Computer says no – period. What card do you need FFS! For everything else in life there’s MasterCard my arse.

We eventually manage to eek €25 out of a Total garage at vastly over inflated cost per litre, but still, Total Hero, saviour of the moment. Finally we can set off towards Chartres. Bearing in mind that it’s only up the road, the fact that we’ve covered about 20 miles in an hour so far and are only about a mile further away from the Chateau is not ideal. Heading towards Chartres isn’t that fun either, the weather is windy and torrential, but eventually we hit the outskirts. A quick getting lost in the city centre results in a phone call to the campsite to get some directions, remarkably this works a treat and we find the place without incident, but we do decide to go and get some provisions on board before we stop as there doesn’t look like there’s a shop nearby. An hour of fruitless searching later having followed the signs towards an Intermarche that simply doesn’t exist (hating Intermarche today), we give up and retreat to the campsite. The barrier is closed and there’s no one there to let us in. This despite the fact that we called and asked them if we could arrive at any time and they said yes. We decide to park up and wait after some dude under an umbrella informs us reception will re-open at 3pm. This also turns out to be fiction as they in fact open at 2pm. It’s like being in a slightly different dimension to everyone else today. Nothing is quite working as it should. Eventually we check in.

Then French bloke behind the counter reminds us (physically) of Toady, from Wind In the Willows, but without the impish sense of humour. A squat, pompous, dismissive, sour git frankly. As a rule we have found the French to be helpful, polite and utterly charming. This guy was none of those and for whatever reason must have taken an instant dislike to us. When we had paid, which involved zero eye contact, instead dismissive grunts, we waited outside the barrier to let through. It’s still throwing it down at this point and Onzo is sat in a giant puddle in front of the still-oh-so-static barrier. With a sigh Noush jumps out of the van (into the puddle) and trots over to squat piggy eyed French man. As soon as she steps into the office the barrier opens, manned by French dude his piggy eyes glinting with sly malice. With a glare that could have levelled cities and should have left him flensed and shredded, Noush turns on her heel and stalks back to the Van. The air turns from a steady rainy grey to a rather alarming shade of blue. There then proceeds the fight to find somewhere we can park, being as this is a campsite you wouldn’t think it would be too difficult, however the ground is totally waterlogged. Getting onto a pitch would be an achievement in itself, getting off unlikely if not impossible. We opt for a stretch of gravel, accessible after a fight with some overhanging branches, which we win. Finally ensconced and utterly exhausted by the fight that France has given us today we go to bed. It’s 3pm. Two hours later and much restored we awake to find that the weather has lifted somewhat, we decide to make an attempt at Chartres.

Thankfully this turns out to be a good decision and the rewards of Chartres go a long way to soothing the hurts of the day. The city is riddled with churches and ancient buildings. There are beautiful spires peeking over roof tops every way you turn. The streets are thronged with people and the shops are of the “50% off and you still can’t afford it” breed. Recession?? Ahem. Oddly there are a disproportionate number of opticians, perhaps one every four shops. Is this because people get myopia from all the double takes at the wildly high prices? We spot the most traditional butcher either of us have ever seen, a butchers block the size off the whole shop and a white haired old man, in his white apron, cleaver in hand. It’s like a vignette of the butchers of old. Shamelessly we have to take a photo, it’s just awesome!

We both need some more appropriate footwear, flip flops just aren’t getting it done anymore, but a quick look in a shoe shop results in mild palpitations and a sharp exit. Jon claims that it was because it was too “leathery” (???!), but we both know it’s because shoes shouldn’t cost €400.

We duck into the cathedral and catch a mass in progress. The cathedral is up there with some of the most beautiful that we’ve seen. The sound of the sermon echoing off the stone and the ringing clarity of a female soloist is all very moving.

Chartes is clearly a prosperous city and very beautiful with it, however darkness is falling and after a quick beer in a rather unlikely jungle themed bar we fumble our way back in the dark, along the treacherous river path, to the campsite.  The day has definitely been redeemed, against all the odds, thank you Chartres. 

La Fleche to Chateaudun Friday 12th October

Finally, we leave La Fleche. We had planned to leave on Thursday, but the monsoon hit and we decided to stay put. The rain was so bad parts of the campsite would have been easier to access via inflatable. We notice the elderly couple opposite emerge from their camper every time the rain stops and re clean their entire van. This must happen close to half a dozen times. OCD is alive and well in the camper community it seems. Now where’s that spirit level for the Chocks?

Rain forest La Fleche - watch out for crocodiles!

As has been mentioned before La Fleche is a wonderful place. Even more so because of our engagement, (it still hasn’t quite sunk in!). It will always hold a very special place in our hearts. On Thursday night we treated ourselves to a farewell meal. The Restaurant Relais was our choice and excellent it was. If you pass this way be sure to give this one a whirl. It’s located just on the banks of the river and is classy in an understated way, the food was superb and it was very reasonably priced. C’est magnifique.

Thankfully Friday morning is the polar opposite of the last few days. Bright Autumn sunshine with a slight breeze (finally some or our clothes may finally dry after being washed!). We plan to follow the Loir and head for Vendome or Chateaudun.

As soon as we started out you cannot help to be inspired with the views around here. Every town and village we pass through has the very picturesque Loir flowing through and there are Chateaus everywhere. Small places like Lude and Chateau sur Loir are utterly charming. As with so many small French towns though there is no one about. Shutters closed, empty streets. Why is this?

Chateau sur Loir, more pretty mills and weirs and things

No matter how beautiful your house is, or how rich you are, everyone always needs a man with a van at some point!

Our first choice is to stay in Vendome. The book of occasional fiction assures it that all manner of historic delights await. Apparently it is also one of the key places in France for the manufacture of gloves and electrical goods. You can see how the two go hand in hand – non?

We get there and let’s just say the outskirts reflect the industriousness of manufacturing. The glimpse of pretty spires and lovely things buried in the middle somewhere are not enough to tempt us and we decide to push on through. Probably a slightly rash decision if the book of occasional fiction is telling the truth, but the delights of Chateaudun are just up the road and it’s a sunny afternoon that can’t be wasted trawling through a large city trying to find a place to park for the night that doesn’t involve a view of tenement buildings.

We arrive at Chateaudun and it is as pretty and historical as we’d hoped it would be. Unfortunately we don’t see signs for the campsite that we’ve ear marked so we hightail it to the tourist office for some assistance. This does not go well. Rude sow bag tourist office woman looks at Noush like she’s from another planet when she asks for directions for said campsite and upon asking for a map she points out the campsite (which is in fact the wrong one) and then informs us that it is closed. Noush reiterates the name of the right campsite only to be met with stony French silence. Slightly taken aback and a bit defeated we ask her if there are any other campsites, she says no, so we ask about aires for camping cars, she points them out on the map and then basically turns her back on us. Charming. Talk about being in the wrong job. However, we have at least scored a map. We adjourn to the bar to discuss what to do. Closer scrutiny of the map reveals two other campsites that she has neglected to mention, one of them being the one that we enquired about originally. What is it with people and their fictional directions or their simple bare faced lying? It’s weird. We set out for the campsite, but it’s a little further out of town than we had hoped so we end up staying in the aire anyway. It’s perfect. Right at the foot of the chateau and by the river, impossibly pretty and quiet...and very atmospheric at night!

Quick bite of lunch and we go for a mooch. The town really is charming, medieval bits everywhere and enormous edifices of stone around every corner, including the ruins of a church that goes right back to the 6^th century. We have a very enjoyable stroll in the afternoon sunshine.

Tomorrow we plan to move on to Chartres and then re try the belated day trip to Paris on Sunday. Best laid plans un’all!!

La Fleche – Tuesday 9th October

Today a trip to the jewellers is on the cards.. we have in fact returned to La Fleche to pick up Noush’s engagement ring! Now, there are several very different schools of thoughts on purchasing an engagement ring: do you surprise your lady and pray that she likes it? Do you let her choose? Do you choose it together? We both had a pretty clear idea of what we wanted to get and although some people might consider it an unorthodox approach we ended up choosing it together. Sitting opposite the jewellers last week Noush was unable to resist going over for a bit window shopping and got all giddy because she’d seen something she liked and  when Jon went to have a look and picked it out independently it was clear that that was the one. Unfortunately Noush has ridiculously teeny fingers and the jewellers had to order a new one to fit, hence our return. Bouncing with excitement and anticipation we enter the jewellers, will it fit? Will it be as beautiful as we remembered? Thankfully it’s utterly perfect.  In fact the jeweller has a bit of a time trying to get it back off Noush! We take it away all wrapped up in a beautiful box, face splitting grins in place. We go for a celebratory drink and last all of about five minutes before we unwrap the box and have another look. The jewellers (Julien d’Orcel) have been brilliant and helpful and lovely throughout, bless them. It’s so pretty. With reluctance it goes back in the box to await it’s moment of glory.

The day is glorious and we decide to go fishing and sit on the river bank in the sun and just enjoy the momentousness of getting the ring. Neither of us can stop smiling. We find a pretty spot and Jon rigs up the fishing rod and passes it to me for a “ladies prerogative” first cast. There on the hook, diamonds sparkling and glinting in the sunlight is the ring. An impossibly romantic proposal of marriage is accepted with joy and alacrity and five minutes later we are engaged to be married. We can both safely say that it’s the most important day of both our lives to date and neither of us has ever been so happy. It’s a glorious delirious moment especially in light of the trials and tribulations that we’ve been through to get there.

The scene of impossible romance and the handy bench for post proposal wobbly legs 

Excited and overwhelmed, we decide to go out and celebrate this wonderful day and truly monumental occasion. The enormity of the moment is impossible to grasp. We head to the Bar Henry lV to tell the world. We toast our future with a bottle of Champagne. 

By coincidence the jewellers we bought the ring from is directly opposite the Bar. The lady who served us gave us a knowing nod and wink as we began the celebrations.

Vannes zoom to La Fleche - Monday 8th October

Woke up to a hideously rainy day, Vannes is officially crap and, as is always the case in France, dubious characters are once again lurking in the car park, glued to their mobile phones. What does it mean? We decide to abandon thoughts of wandering round Vannes, it’s sheeting down with rain and we’re too tight to fork out 15€ for an umbrella. Operation bail. We had planned to go to Rennes and Laval, but Onzo and route barres had other ideas and we end up doing a colossal zoom all the way back to La Fleche where tomorrow morning we will hopefully be picking up something of great importance… 

La Fleche to Redon via Chateaubriant and Redon to Vannes – Saturday 6th – Sunday 7th October

A quick mooch round La Fleche in the morning, an obscenely strong coffee and we set sail for Chateaubriant where are due to visit an opportunity that interests us. La Fleche and the camping have been great and ideal for a visiting friend.

The journey starts quite badly as we stumble almost immediately on a Route Barre. Odd how the French, in the main, seem to close roads and don’t always have a diversion. This one had an almighty barrier across a fairly main road. Not ideal. There was also no warning whatsoever. Had it been dark and you were in cruise mode it would have been hard to avoid a collision! Best guess came to the fore and we trundled down various lanes and through countless pretty villages, getting evermore remote. Why is it that such small villages have such large churches? Where the villages once larger? If they were where did the rest of the village go? Or was it just an optimistic tenet of the Church that said “If we build it, they will come”? Who knows, but crossing numerous bridges over babbling rivers, under the shadows of these great churches is all very beautiful, despite being ever so slightly lost for the entire journey due to Route Barre.

Apologies for the windscreen wiper, weather not so good!

The village near Chateaubriant is a pretty little hamlet in the middle of nowhere and yet it adheres to that weird French rule of having a MASSIVE disco just down the road? In their wisdom the French decided to close it down, but perhaps not so wisely it is now a cabaret club. Gives us the urge to meet the local mayor, is he a party animal??! Our business meeting goes well and we retire to Redon for the night for a post-meeting conflab. Redon exceeds our expectations and after a rather unpromising industrial area on the outskirts reveals a pretty marina and a very cool little irish bar around the corner which we hole up in to take shelter from the incessant rain and discuss the days events. The aire is based right on the marina edge and is super convenient, quiet and free. We’re in bed by nine, happily full of French/Irish hospitality.

Redon Quay

Redon to Vannes Sunday 7^th October

After a bizarre night of odd noises, fireworks and strange animal cries (according to Noush, this may have been related to the brew in the Irish Bar on reflection) we notice hoards of people entering a large warehouse just across the harbour. It looks like a market of sorts so we decide to head over for a look see before leaving.

On the way round we get to see in daylight the large old tug boat moored up, we had noticed the night before. A vast vessel compared to the sailing and fishing boats around it. It looked like it had a story to tell and pricked our interest. What on earth was it doing here? On close inspection it turned out it was recused from being destroyed after serving in the American Navy from 1944. It had a plaque attached to it telling some of its history.

It had seen service in the Atlantic, Mediterranean the Channel and was last used escorting vessels off the coast of Algeria. It was sitting in the Redon port, rusted and full of holes, but oddly it almost seemed happy and expectant, like someone was about to love it back to life and bring its glorious past into the present. It was peculiarly romantic in a way, the history it had seen, the lives it must have helped save, the laughter and the sorrow it must have witnessed. Hopefully someone will indeed lavish some care and attention on L’Attis, it certainly captured our imagination.

L'Attis moored up in Redon

We walked further down the Quay and went in to the market that we had spied from the other side. Most odd indeed. As we walked through the open door there were two guys lighting a BBQ, whilst not 1 foot away the monsoon raged. Inside proper there were tables and tables of odd bric a brac. Not unusual for a market perhaps, but what was strange was the amount of second hand baby clothes. They were everywhere you looked. Racks of tiny shoes (mostly old and knackered), musty tops and trousers, all this next to a rusted 40 year old wood saw and old Elvis LP’s.

The odd Market at Redon!

We are slightly spooked by all this, especially as there wasn’t one baby in sight. Weird. So we decide to make a break for it and head to the coast. We make good time and arrive in Vannes in time for a late lunch. It all looks lovely, despite the rain, but stashing Onzo proves a little tricky. We have sort of found a place to park, but it’s really on a wonk and isn’t particularly ideal so we decide to find somewhere else for the night. This is easier said than done. There are no Aires in Vannes. None. Are we in Italy? It’s very much a case of ‘none shall pass’. We are amazed and disappointed. Rather disconsolately we investigate a couple of campsites only to find that either they are closed or they want 12€ to park on a bit of their car park. Is not so good. We give in and go back to the Marina (another Marina, it’s like hilltop towns, once you start you can’t escape them) and just park up next to the Estuary. We’re not sure it’s allowed, but in all seriousness there isn’t really anywhere else to go. Also there are other campers there so we will club together and make a stand if needs be. Vive la Revolution! Hopefully tomorrow the weather will clear somewhat and we can have a look at Vannes properly.

View from the Van in Vannes!

La Fleche – Monday 1st October-Friday 5th October

(apologies for delayed post, nerd had death)

We stay in situ for the next few days as we are visited by a friend from the UK. The campsite in La Fleche is ideal for our purposes. We have lecy hookup and all the facilities one could need. Said friend is travelling over from Wales (enough said?) His itinerary is quite simple. A flight from Manchester to Paris, Train from Pairs to Le Mans and then onto La Fleche. Simple.

Actually no. Dafyyyyd, (not his real name, but one has to protect) leaves Manchester albeit slightly delayed. Not his fault. However one could assume that being a smart man of the world and armed with the latest technology in the form of spangly apple thing a small delay wouldn't prove to be much of a problem. Au contraire! We've booked a table for dinner for half eight assuming that landing at half one would give ample time to get to us. Several missed trains later and taking the most almighty and unnecessary diversion he arrives at le mans only to find that there are no trains running to La Fleche (more about this later) and has no option but to get fleeced by local cab driver to take him to La Suze (strict instructions from us to wait for us at Bar de France, name drop and get treated like a king).  We mount an enormous rescue mission, zooming to la suze to go and collect, realising as we leave the campsite that we won't actually be able to get back in due to extreme security measures in the form of none-shall-pass-after-10pm electric barrier. We find Dafyyyd looking woebegone on a street corner, bar de france and hotel st louis both closed. It's tragic. We end up camping up in La Suze for the night, Dafyyyd is somewhat shocked at his Onzo inaugural stay. Nothing that cafe correctos in the bar de france don't sort out in the morning.

Tuesday morning and cafe corrrectos (eek) done all is well with the world. Dafyyyd has no control over travelling or destinations so we are safe to leave to go back to La Fleche without fear of mishap.  After a brief and (as usual) unsuccessful fishing trip we decide to nip into town and visit the local hostelries. We stumble (literally) into the welcome of the Henry IV. This is a fine bar. Groovy, nice vibe and open! After a few libations in the afternoon sun we venture inside the Bar to seek shelter from the evening chill and bump into none other than Berny Ecclestone. (see picture below). Rather fitting bearing in mind our proximity to Le Mans. Berny turns out to be a star turn on the piano (didn't think he was tall enough) and then entertains us with talk of his car collection. Two of this classic collection are revealed to be an original xr3i (in red) and a Morgan. Smooth.

Bernie (who drove the fastest milk cart, read XR3i, in the west!)

Dafyyyd point blank refuses to sleep in the tent and has sort of broken some things in Onzo, so we retire to the tent, turfed out of our home, tired and resigned. He redeems himself rather brilliantly and all is totally forgiven when he cooks up epic feast in the morning, having been to market and secured yummy stuff, whilst we were still festering under woefully soggy canvas. Thank you sir.

After a couple of days enjoying the culture and restaurants of La Fleche (shout out to La Gargantua) and sampling the market, it is time, unfortunately, to say goodbye to Dafyyyd (we get our bed back, yay!!) who has been holding our hand through some rather momentous times (more about that later). However, La Fleche, has other ideas. Whilst being a lovely place to stay for a few days it reveals its one true flaw when we try to take Dafyyyd to the station to get back home. Turns out there is no station in La Fleche. This is only ascertained after asking five different people, yes five, including someone from the tourist office, who all give us fictional directions to a train station that simply does not exist, why do they do this?? It’s like a foreign person asking someone in the UK how to navigate London and being told that there’s no London Underground: it’s a myth. Misinformation enorme. Sigh.

Public information warning: General public, take note, La Fleche does not, repeat does not,  have a train station (it has a bus station, but busses don’t count, let’s face it)  

Once we’ve established that there is no station we have to get massive zoom on halfway across the country in order for Dafyyd to make his Eurostar. Anyway, not his fault and three hours later he’s safely on his way. Miracles do happen. And on the upside Noush gets to see the holy grail that is Le Mans circuit, albeit in the distance...

Spot the Dunlop Bridge anyone?

We eventually make it back to La Fleche, exhausted. It’s a bed-by-nine kind of day. Thank you Dafyyyd for coming to play and happy birthday for tomorrow, we love you, but for the love of God next time hire a chauffeur. Or buy a helicopter. Something. Anything.

Erection Fail 1

Due to sleeping in the tent and incorrect erection (stay with me here) we incur collateral damage to the lap top. In summary rain seeps in, swamps the lappy and it dies. This is bad news. After dropping off Dafyyyd at Le Mans we drop into Leclerc to look at purchasing a new device. All goes well. We choose the new machine (cheap we think for an HP), pay for it and go to leave. All is well with the world apart from Wayne Rooney Thug dude (WRTD) who guards the exit door (none shall pass). It turns out that in this particular store you have to have your purchases checked on exit. So, we hand over the receipt to WRTD and it transpires we are not allowed to leave with the new purchase. What does it mean? Bearing in mind that we have purchased said lappy not five metres away from where WRTD is stationed, this all seems a bit excessive. He looks at the receipt, back to the box, back to the receipt and makes French shrugging motions and mutters things like “Boff”. Things are not going smoothly. Jon starts to make noises about how this is so bloody, typically French, whereupon charming French woman (who is stuck in the queue behind us) decides to step in and sort it out. She (all of 5”2) fronts up to WRTD and in no uncertain terms tells him exactly how to do his job, points out where he’s going wrong and basically tells him to pull his finger out. He, thankfully, promptly does so. Without her we might have been there for days. We thank her (and hope she didn’t take that comment about the “bloody useless jobsworth French” to heart) and leave sharpish. She gives us a wry shrug and proceeds to take WRTD to task. Thank god for strong, interfering, lovely French women. Merci!  

La Fleche has been awesome, highly recommended to everyone (unless you want to catch a train or a fish!), it feels much like home. Tomorrow sees us heading towards Brittany and the coast, exciting business opportunity on the horizon and then a weekend in the sun. C’est bon. 

Kisses to Dafyyyd (whose coat is that jacket hanging up on the floor?!!) and happy birthday, thanks for coming to play xx

La Suze Sur Sarthe, Le Mans and on to La Fleche Saturday 29th September to Sunday 30th September.

It’s fair to say that Friday lives with us into Saturday morning. A brief attempt to visit the Bar de France in La Suze ends up being a slightly longer affair. The Bar de France is an awesome little bar with two great owners, who along with the locals made us feel a little too welcome perhaps.

After a swift coffee in the Bar St Louis we head to the train station to check out Le Mans town centre. As the owners of the bar tell us, ‘Le Mans is not just about the 24 hour race’.

The journey to Le Mans takes 10 minutes on the train, and a very comfortable, punctual, clean, plush and efficient experience it is. It is also cheap. None of these sentiments can be applied to travelling on the trains in the UK. Just how do we get it so wrong? This wasn’t even a spangly TGV, just the local flyer. It was nicer and faster than the best the UK can offer. We are travelling to Paris on the Train on Thursday so perhaps that will be the acid test.

We wander around Le Mans and the first thing we notice is that that somebody appears to have stolen the Cathedral. Where is the bloody thing? Clearly this is user error so we decide to get some food on board in the hope that brain power will be restored. We have a yummy lunch, sat outside in the sunshine, watching the world go by and oh my, what a funny world it is! Le Mans fashion sense is truly a thing of great peculiarity. It’s like a competition to see who can wear the most outlandish outfit with the greatest insouciance. We see a girl in a wedding dress, but neither of us is entirely convinced that she’s a bride, it’s entirely possible that she’s just wearing what she felt like wearing when she got up this morning. We leave the restaurant and go in search of the Cathedral, which we find almost immediately; it’s very austere and imposing and is so gothic that it’s almost menacing. The interior is pleasantly softened, with vast floral arrangements dotted around, while still being very dramatic.

We emerge back into the sunshine and find ourselves in the old quarter, which is a jaw dropping surprise after the ‘normaility’ of Le Mans town centre. We have also stumbled into an exhibition of sorts. Le Mans is celebrating all things gardening with a tour of secret old beautiful court yards and gardens, stalls everywhere with demonstrations of arts and crafts skills like basket weaving and such like. It’s all very restrained and a little bit hippy happy, lovely. At the foot of the Cathedral stairs a rather unlikely collection of people suddenly reveal themselves to be musicians and we are treated to a half hour of extremely cool and funky music comprising everything from rhythm and blues to soul funk to a bit of celtic melancholy. The group consists of perhaps 30 students playing everything from trumpets, trombones, flutes and piccolos. The beat is kept fast and funky by one guy on a drum and another on a snare. They are absolutely amazing and rather than stopping at the end of the half hour they just keep on playing as they move on down through the maze of medieval streets. It was a brilliant thing to witness, they all looked so happy and played so well together, seemingly effortlessly and for the love of it. Excellent!

After a prolonged tour of the rest of the old quarter of Le Mans (love it here!) we decide to head back to La Suze.

Once back we poke our heads into the Bar de France and receive a rapturous welcome after last night. Drinks are bought for us- eek, what did we do? Noush in particular has gone down a storm!

Johnny Cash anyone?

The evening weather is glorious as we head back to the Aire at La Suze for a hearty supper. The relative quiet has been marred slightly by a group of French folks on a boat moored next to the pontoon only yards away from all the Campers. Needless to say they keep everyone awake and aware of their presence right through until around 3am. Aire Mayor would not have approved. We miss Aire Mayor.

Sunday – La Suze to La Fleche

Sunday is again glorious. This is not bad for the tail end of September. The view is almost magical with the clear blue sky and the mist rising from the river. We head into Town (which is absolutely thronged with people) for a quick wi-fi session and a ‘café correcto’ at the Bar de France. New friends and acquaintances have definitely been forged and we are sad to leave.

La Fleche is 20kms or so south west of La Suze and will provide us with a stopover for a few days, as Noush has got a mate coming out to visit. Plus, it will still be close enough for us to do a day trip to Paris (we’re not risking taking Onzo, figuring the train will be easier).

La Fleche is far more beautiful than we imagined. We are staying at the municipal campsite (guest staying means amenities required!) and it’s perfect. For Onzo, us two, a tent, Noush’s mate and hook up, plus free wi-fi it works out at about £12 a night. This is not so very bad and the view is awesome, plus town centre is a five minute walk. Yay!

We go exploring in the afternoon and come across a charity closing ceremony in the main Henri IV square. The sun is shining, it feels very alpine, perfect autumn afternoon, and we’re all happy with all the good will and benevolence in the air. We retire to the banks of the Loir for some afternoon fishing and thank our good fortune on finding yet another impossibly beautiful place in which to live for a few days.