Autumn, 2011: Postscript

Well, here we are getting used to life again back at home. We’re over our ferry lag and the car has had a new windscreen fitted courtesy of the insurance and a £75.00 excess. Ferry lag? Yes, ferry lag. There’s only a one hour time difference between ourselves and France (France being ahead, for anyone who is unsure) but, whenever we return, we always wake up disgustingly early for a few days.

This was a great trip – one of the classics. This was one of those trips I dream of. We had pretty close to five weeks of unbroken sunshine (apart from the setting at night, of course) and were lucky enough to make many good choices as to where to stop. And it is, believe me, largely a matter of luck. The dragonfly spotting in La Brenne and Provence was good but the crowning glory had to be six gloriously sunny days in the Pyrenees at the end. Given the correct weather, such mountains are magnificent and this time they were utterly fantastic.

The return trip was a bit naff but, hey, I was just driving.

Here’s one final thing that I feel the need to “share”. Motor vans are very popular these days. I really have no idea of the reason; in my view they are more expensive and generally less flexible than a car and caravan. about 50% of their space is taken up with the de rigeur fixed bed these days. About another 25% is the driving cab leaving very little actual living space in your considerable investment. I actually find them slightly irritating as they drive around towing a car behind them on a yoke and, after sensible folks who’ve been installed since 4:00 PM are thinking they’ve found a nice quiet campsite for the evening, half a dozen of these damn things swarm in at 7:00 PM and ruin it. Still, popular they are and that’s just me and my little problem.

Here, however, is an example of what I find completely offensive. I don’t think this is actually American but it’s certainly based upon the Winnebago concept. It’s huge. It dwarfs everything sensible on the campsite. Just look at it beside this Bailey caravan (not unlike ours) and Jag tow car. There can’t be many sites with pitches big enough to accommodate a thing like this. I looked on a website to see what I could find out. I’ve blanked out the registrations but this is an ‘06 plate so the models have changed. The price ticket on this ugly mo’fo’ is something between £90K and £150K. Talk about conspicuous camping.

Obscenities like this don’t fit European campsites. Indeed, they don’t fit Europe. It’s all very well for those living in it but we’ve got to look at it.

OK, end of Hitlerian rant. We had a wonderful time and now have to face the winter. Let’s hope it’s not too long or severe.

Technorati Tags: travel,France

Harnessing the Wind

Today was the Sunday to travel home. Normally, I’d have been upset about going home but the weather was so awful, clouds on the deck and steady rain, that it softened the blow. What it didn’t soften was the packing up – I hate packing up in the rain.

For the last couple of days travelling up through France from the Pyrenees we’d occasionally experienced another kind of blow – the wind. It’s a powerful force. As we were heading up towards Chartres we ran into a stiff headwind that was slamming into the front of poor ol’ Guillaume and felt like it might halt our progress. Aided by the bow wave from a passing lorry/truck in the opposite carriageway, it did rearrange my towing mirror. I had to pull in and realign it.

The French are pretty good at harnessing the power of the wind. Although the majority of their electricity is generated by nuclear power, they do seem keen on alternative technologies and you don’t travel far before running across a parc éolien [wind farm]. Perhaps unfashionably, I rather like them, though I can’t see them as a realistic alternative. Here’s an example that we ran across on this trip in Provence where there is a very famous source of pretty reliable wind power, the mistral.

Following lunch yesterday in Dieppe, we meandered along the so-called Côte d’Alabatre [Alabaster Coast]. The term alabaster is a bit optimistic since the cliffs looked decided dirty yellow so it must be a French P.R. job attempting to rival the White Cliffs of Dover. There was a stiff breeze blowing off la manche [the English Channel] which many locals were out demonstrating various ways to make leisure use of.

First up, a double-header shot. Out on the water itself were several kite-surfers. Now, this makes sense to me, though it looks much too difficult for one as uncoordinated as I who dislikes getting cold and wet. I’ve watched regular surfing in Cornwall and that seems to consist of a lot of paddling ones surfboard out from the beach – very tiring – followed by sitting on ones surfboard for ages – very boring – waiting for a decent wave (usually the seventh?)  for a very short ride back to the beach. Repeat. The kite-surfers are on the go all the time.

In the foreground of the same picture is something I hadn’t noticed before – what I can best describe as a sail-powered skateboard. This, at least, seems to avoid the “getting wet” bit though perhaps not the “getting cold”.

Too much effort standing up? Want a seat? Try this variation. I’ve no idea what this contraption might be called or how one concentrates on steering the cart device as well as controlling the kite, but it seems to take kite-surfing out of the water and puts in on the beach with the added comfort of a seat.

Finally, if you really want something comfortable, maybe land-yachting would be your thing? Here’s an example fitted with what appears to be a Recaro rally seat for a real treat. Actually, if this driver got much lower down, a single bed might be more appropriate.

How very inventive!

We made it back to Calais through the rain and cross-wind, early enough to get on a earlier ferry (11:35). I’m sure our windscreen was intact as we drove onto the boat but it had a 12cms/5in crack in it as I drove off. Weird. Maybe it got hit by a passing kite-surfer?

Technorati Tags: travel,France,Normandy

Lunch in Dieppe

Having arrived in Neufchâtel-en-Bray a day earlier than we thought, we decided to treat ourselves to a seafood lunch in Dieppe which lies a mere 20 miles to the north. Dieppe is one of the channel ferry ports, though not one we’ve ever used, and one of the more attractive ones, at that. Other than ferry traffic, the port unloads a whole lot of bananas and shellfish (it says here). OK, we’ve driven nearby it frequently enough, now let’s give it a try.

I am no historian but I am quite interested in the Second World War. Dieppe is best remembered, by me anyway, because of the completely disastrous raid by allied forces in 1942. With support from the Royal Navy and Royal Air Force, 6000+ infantry, predominantly Canadian, made it ashore. After some five hours, having achieve none of the objectives, those which were not killed, wounded or captured, less than 50% of the poor saps, were forced to withdraw. PR would have it that this action served as practice for D-Day. It certainly sounds as though we needed it! The harbour must have looked utterly depressing in 1942. Happily, today it looks much more appealing, especially in Fuji 617 format.

On Saturday, Dieppe has its reportedly wonderful street market so we checked that out before lunch. We’d have to agree, the market was excellent. Several years ago, we discovered a wonderful market in Dives-sur-mer, also in Normandy. I’m beginning to spot a pattern. I’ve spared you the market pictures so far on this trip but I can resist no longer. Below are a few stalls – mostly those that interest us more, rotisseried chickens, cheese and fresh fish – to give you a colourful flavour of the French love for food. (The occasional movement blur is caused by our not knowing how to drive our toy compact camera properly.)

French markets are usually colourful affairs but we stumbled into a shop on one of the market streets that was out to give this one some competition. In my experience, this bejewelled shop is unique. All the shop’s internal walls were lined from floor to ceiling with brightly coloured cans. The cans contained nothing but fish, various species preserved in various flavourings and sauces. There were some very attractively presented gift boxes and hampers of canned fish, too. Totally unexpected and quite amazing; I’ve never seen the like before.

All that gives one an appetite and we finally went in search of a restaurant with a good seafood menu. I always have a hankering for a plateau de fruit de mer [seafood platter] and Francine was hungry for scallops. We found a table at one of the more popular eateries and had clearly lucked out; 15 minutes later they were turning people away. Apart from our main choices, one of its attractions was that it had a €22.90 menu offering a starter that intrigued us both, foie de lotte [monkfish liver], noted as the house speciality. It was excellent and the highlight of the meal for us both. A bottle of Muscadet sur lie was, of course, needed to wash the feast down.

We don’t often eat in restaurants but when we do, we like it to be because we’re eating something we either can’t obtain or can’t prepare at home. Monkfish liver and spanking fresh seafood fulfilled both requirements. For once, paying the bill was a pleasure.

Technorati Tags: travel,France,Dieppe,food,photography

The Journey North

At Bagnère-de-Bigorre in the Pyrenees, we were just about as far south in France as it’s possible to be without being in Spain. Having enjoyed an amazing spell of clear blue skies in the mountains, we had to face the eternal question of when to start our return journey – two long days or three shorter days? Since we were leaving unfamiliar territory and knew we’d be driving into poor weather, we opted for three shorter days and struck out for Limoges (or thereabouts) at 08:30, or à bonne heure as the French would have it, on Thursday.

Our journey to Limoges was smooth and we arrived mid afternoon. As expected the weather was uninspiring so, with neither the time nor inclination to do anything constructive after setting up, we invoked the female prerogative, – changed our minds and kept going. May as well use the time constructively putting kilometres behind us. At 16:00 we pulled into a campsite near Châteauroux. I really don’t like setting up in the rain.

Another 5½hrs  towing in revoltingly strong winds got us to Neufchâtel-en-Bray in Normandy today so we did it in a relatively easy two days after all. It’s raining off and on. I really don’t like setting up in the rain.

No wonder they have very lush green grass for all the famous Normandy cows that make Neufchâtel cheese in these parts.

Technorati Tags: travel,France

Another Victory for Automation

Remember those halcyon days in shops when the shop keeper would look at your item, know the price of it and ring that price straight into the till/cash register? That system was very quick and efficient for the paying customer. What happened? Along came computer geniuses armed with bar codes and automated stock tracking and re-ordering systems. (Mea culpa, except for the genius bit.) Now what happens? Either :

1. Spotty oik at the checkout passes your pre-packaged item over a bar code scanner but the bar code label is creased or badly printed.
2. The scanner fails to beep its recognition of your item.
3. Spotty oik tries again … no beep … and again … still no beep.
4. There follows a laborious process of manually keying in the 12 or so digit numerical equivalent of the item’s unreadable bar code. 
5. Finally the bloody computer system recognizes your item and adds the appropriate amount to your bill.

Alternatively,

1. You’ve inadvertently picked up one of the items on the shelf that hasn’t actually been bar coded and spotty oik now has to call for someone in authority to go and retrieve another identical item with the bar code.
2. Wait two minutes. The queue [line, in Amerispeak] is getting antsy behind you.
3. Go to #1 above.

Admittedly this doesn’t happen with every item but it is certainly not an infrequent occurrence, is it? Is this quick and efficient for the customer? No, of course not. This whole system is designed to help the shop/store in streamlining its stock control and re-ordering. It is not designed to help the paying customer.

France is now inventing something equivalent in regard to its autoroute tolls. When you enter an autoroute section which is péage [carries a toll], you take a ticket. When you leave the autoroute, you are charged according to how far you have travelled. Simples! Well, it was. Up until recently there was a warm body, sometimes smiling and cheery, at the exit point. You handed them your ticket and a price appeared. Some people, notably the French, seem to insist on juggling with cash but the warm body made it all pretty quick and easy. Sensible people handed over a credit card along with the ticket and you were on your way in no time flat.

[Aside: You never had to sign a credit card chit or enter a PIN at an autoroute toll booth. How’d that work?]

Enter: the ugly face of automation once again. Many of the autoroute toll booths are having automated machinery installed. The warm body, sometimes smiling and cheery, at the autoroute exit point is being replaced by an impersonal machine/computer system. Here’s how it works:

1. Several cars in front of you, a driver inserts the ticket into the machine the wrong way round. The machine fails to read the magnetically encoded data and spits the ticket back out.
2. The driver re-inserts the ticket the right way round.
3. A price appears.
4. Being French, the driver shuns the use of credit cards and begins fumbling for cash. (The price is such that we are generally talking paper money here, BTW.)
5. The machine miraculously accepts the driver’s creased and soiled Euros and discharges the correct change (coins) into a tray.
6. The driver starts scooping out his/her change and insists on storing it in his/her purse before continuing.
7. The driver then fumbles a scooping motion and drops his/her remaining coins on the ground in between the car and the fancy toll machine.
8. The bottom of the sun’s disc gracefully touches the horizon.

Or:

1. You’ve stored your autoroute ticket next to your bankers card in your wallet/purse and the magnetic strip is now knackered. When you insert the ticket, even if your bright enough to get it the correct way round, it can’t be read.
2. The ticket is spat back out and you have to press the “warm body for assistance” button. (Wait one minute.)
3. Now you are instructed to read some of the digits from your ticket.
4. A price appears.
5. Go to #3 above.

Meanwhile, another six vehicles have formed a queue [line, in Amerispeak] behind you.

This marvellous new system is, once again, several times slower than the original, even when things go smoothly. Trust me, we’ve tried both many times. On busy autoroute toll booths, the queues [lines, in Amerispeak – get it?] are noticeably longer.

Is this new system better for the paying customer? No, of course it isn’t. This system does absolutely nothing for the paying (and paying dearly) customer. This system is, of course, designed entirely for the autoroute companies who can now make redundant a good percentage of their employees.

Unemployment in France is already high enough.

Technorati Tags: travel,France

Lac d’Ourrec

We’ve scored two strikes on walking up various high bits of the Pyrenees so far. A trip or two ago, we decided to strike out for Andorra starting at one of our favourite mountain locations, the barrage de Soulcem. We struck out – failed; we started too late in the day, underestimated the severity of the route, didn’t have enough water and should have left our heavy cameras and lenses at base camp. Just two days ago on this trip, we fell short of success again. We’d set off from an altitude of 1000m/3000ft to “walk” up to le Lac Bleu at 1900m/5800ft. This is a bit like starting from the top of Snowdon and walking up Snowdon again. We had enough water and time but Franco’s left thigh decided to go on strike [Ed: how very French!] about 300m/1000ft from the summit. I think Franco was suffering from his winter of inactivity. Blast! Discretion being the better part of valour, especially in serious mountains, we returned slowly to base camp.

Today, Franco’s left thigh hopefully having recovered from its earlier difficulty, we decided to try for the slightly lower target of Lac d’Ourrec, the ascent of which begins at the same base camp as le Lac Bleu but was supposedly at a mere 1700m/5300ft. The French time estimate for the route was 2 hours, whereas their Lac Bleu estimate had been 2½hrs. We started earlier to be on the safe side.

The day was cooler and all went well. The walk was very irregular in that some sections were quite steep whereas others were a gentle ramble along a relatively level path. We crossed the mountain stream tumbling down the valley twice over strategically placed footbridges. Eventually we came upon a plateau with grazing cows and … about six four-wheel drive vehicles parked beside mountain huts. It’s irrational, I know, but there is something slightly demoralizing about having walked for an hour uphill only to come across motorized vehicles. That was the end of civilization, though, we were now on a path across a steeply wooded slope that hardly had room for two feet, let alone a Toyota Landcruiser.

We broke the tree-line and worked our way towards a ridge with noting but blue sky visible beyond. Expectantly, I crested the ridge to see … more grass and another ridge. There’s always another ridge. We continued. We crested the next ridge to be faced by no lake but a small decent to something of a plateau. We continued, thinking we could deduce where the lake might be – across the further ridge before us. Wrong! The path rounded a bluff and there, finally, was the Lac d’Ourrec. We’d made it. I’d been thinking we should stop this mountain walking nonsense in favour of something with a higher success ration.

Hmm, that may still be the case!

Technorati Tags: travel,France,Lac d’Ourrec,Bagnere-de-Bigorre,Pyrenees,photography

Fêtes des Mariolles

All of our exploring here at Bagnères-de-Bigorre has begun by driving up the Vallée de Campan. Campan is a large village/small town a few kilometres east of us which we had to pass through to get to the climbs up the Col du Tourmalet and the Col d’Aspin. Negotiating the relatively narrow streets through typical French villages is not made any safer by sights that cause the driver, moi, to do a double-take.

Campan was littered with such double-take-inducing sights. Driving past a street cafe where one of the two outside tables appears to be occupied by a couple of life-sized rag dolls can be a little surprising if you aren’t expecting it – and who would? Campan was actually littered with a whole collection of life-sized rag dolls in a series of intriguing poses, including two sapeurs-pompieres [firemen] apparently with an audience on a balcony above. There was a Romeo and Juliet balcony scene with Romeo clinging to the top of a street light. Even the church courtyard featured a display of a rag doll wedding party. Very inventive!

10th July had been something called the Fêtes des Mariolles. Mariolles doesn’t feature in any of our dictionaries so we remain in the dark. However, the rag dolls display at Campan was an exhibition of mounaques from the Fêtes des Mariolles. Mounaque doesn’t feature in our dictionaries either but it sounds similar to mannequin, to me. So. for the moment, I’m going to postulate that the Fêtes des Mariolles is something to do with puppets etc. and that mounaques are mannequin-like things. Very curious but bless them for doing something so inventive and amusing.

Technorati Tags: travel,France,Campan,Bagnere-de-Bigorre,Pyrenees,photography