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 7th 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!
