Travelhector

A bit more than a week has been enough to make Vieux Boucau my home base. It needs a slight push to leave the lazy beach routine behind and move on to new destinations.

After a final view over “my” surfing beach, Hector takes a turn and off we go direction St. Émilion. Around noon, he gently slides into the most central parking slot at the heart of the fortified medieval town. Having ignored the “Payant” sign, I will make the local authorities my new pen pal and look forward to written information about the exact location of our perfect parking place.

All along I knew Saint Émilion for Grand Cru wines of the expensive kind and thought that it might be a nice spot to drop by. In no way did I expect this stunning beauty: old stone houses straggle down the steep south-hanging slope of a low hill, with the green froth of the vines crawling over its walls. Roses grow in many corners and small courtyards are to be discovered when walking around and settle down in one of the inviting restaurants, cafés and bars.

The monolith church is another peculiarity: simple and huge, the entire structure was hacked out of the rock. For those that consider the guided tour of 1 hour being too time-consuming, l’office de tourisme offers a charming alternative. For 1,50 EUR I receive the key to the spire on top of the church. After climbing up hundreds or dozens of stairs, I am rewarded with a fantastic 360° panorama view.

I thought I come here for some wine, but first I spend hours admiring the town itself: old houses with classy wine shops, art galleries and some decent but luxurious hotels. There is not a single building that disturbs the special flair.

If you want to learn a bit about what France and its wine / food culture is about: here it is. People come together at the bars and cafés, they sit and drink and talk and laugh. Even though you will see quite some tourists, on second glance you will find the origins being there as well.

The French “Savoir Vivre” comes along easily: I buy the best “Macarons” ever at Les Caprices d’Amélie, drink a coffee at the glossing hideaway of L’Absolu and end up slightly overstrained with the enormous choice of wine shops.

Having my own travel agenda, I leave St. Émilion behind and drive 15 km through the most attractive wine region until I reach the Domaine de Grand Homme at Blasimon.

I really love staying overnight at a vineyard: the local dog and the vintner give me a warm welcome and Hector settles down between the swimming pool (yes, they offer their pool to guests!!) and the grape-vines. After a swim and dinner in the setting sun, I take a look around and chat with the other campers. No wonder that this time I am not alone, the place is surely tempting: the swimming pool surrounded by vine and forest, the walking trails through prospering nature and last but not least the wine tasting – what else do you need?

The Domaine de Grand Homme offers places to camper vans, guest rooms Chambres d’hôtes and (seasonally) dinner – check out the possibilities on www.domainedegrandhomme.com

Hector is accompanied by a Dutch and a French camping car, both inhabited by a dog plus two persons. Around sunset, we all come together with the winegrowers and taste our ways through the white “Entre deux mers”, the rosé and the rouge “St. Émilion”. It turns out to be an enjoyable evening with a mixture of hosts and guests, different nations and languages, travelling stories and oenophile information. I like these unforeseen gatherings when you get little insights into the life of strangers that become friends for common hours.

The next morning starts with coffee and wine with the latter being packed in cartons, destination “home” for future occasions. Again, I found a wonderful place to be, but it is time to move on: in only a few hours Linda will arrive at Bordeaux airport and will join me for the next 9 days.

Although I am not aware of it yet, I will most probably come back to southwest of France any other year – and then I will spend more time at St. Émilion with even more wine tasting, architectural highlights of the monolith church and pastel coloured macarons.

Saint Émilion really got me…

Monolith church, spire, 360° wine, thousands of old stones

Before the rise of St. Tropez / Côte d’Azur as hot spot for celebrities and royals, Biarritz was the place to be. Consequently, 1930s grandeur embraces the Grande Plage with the Hôtel du Palais, the Casino Municipal and mansions that have their roots back in the era of Napoléon III and the enthusiasm of his Spanish wife Eugénie.

By happenstance the part of my wardrobe with clean clothes today is limited to the best pieces, being just the right outfit for the glorious places of Biarritz. With style and dignity I enter the park of the Hôtel du Palais, knowing that once upon a time the empress of France resided in the palace that stood here before fire, rebuilding and golf courts took over.

The waiter is courteous as a British butler and tries with extensive care to fulfil my special wishes. Presenting him a challenge seems the right approach when falling out of the camper van into a fairytale castle.

The hour on the terrace of the Hôtel du Palais with a can of finest tea and the most glorious view over Biarritz’ central bay has been the best idea of all. The surrounding is excellent, my sunglasses are Gucci and the swimming pool is enormous. If once I leave camping and Hector behind (unthinkable), I will go straight for luxury hotels, no compromises!

It is at Biarritz’ beach that I see the first surfers – finally!

The weather is gentle, the waves are in place and only some construction sins from younger decades prevent me from falling straight into a picture postcard world.

I follow the path along the coastline, eat some fish at the old harbour and continue to the Rocher de la vierge. During a chat with some local guys I learn that here only painters are allowed to sell souvenirs and I have to admit that the paintbrush work on decoration surfboards and boomerangs is a quite good one.

Once more the travel book “Südwestfrankreich” by Michael Müller Verlag offers the most useful information: I left Hector at the free parking “Floquet” and took the free shuttle bus (“navette”) to the centre. Thanks to Hector’s slim silhouette, I can leave him at almost any parking slot for regular cars – as long as there is no height restriction, that is.

After some successful shopping at Biarritz (oh, I hope my niece likes my present just as I do) I get back to Hector and in a shortness of time we arrive at the campsite “Vieux Port” at Vieux-Boucau.

It is one of those animated, water-playground-and-rental-home sites that have a perfect website, good marketing and high prices. I choose a place underneath pines and directly behind the dunes and plan to spend a week here, relaxing and doing sports and everything.

It does seem comfortable on first sight, but Friday evening crowds of Spanish families arrive, being above all: loud. And respect-less. And annoying. Within the blink of an eye they take over the entire camp site. It is not only the crowds of people, but also the mid-quality sanitaries, the extra charge on WIFI, the useless pool area, the non-swimming beach and the ignorant waiters at the tapas bar, altogether the decision is easily made: Change it, love it or leave it. Consequently, I change to the camping municipal “Les Sablères” with half the price but double comfort (with exception to the availability of toilet paper).

On top, the camping municipal is closer to the city and thus even better for flexible beach days. After the re-settlement to Les Sablères, I finally come to a halt and am willing to begin the second week of the holidays. The first one was full of moving on, thousands of kilometers and a variety of impressions. Now, the second one, will be dedicated to other contents.

The next day starts as rainy as the last one, but for a driving day this is just fine. After passing by the ARIANE skyrocket (much smaller than I would have thought), the plan is to continue south west until the ocean stops me. Kilometer by kilometer the sky gets brighter, the distanced clouds open up and leave me flabbergasted: The high mountain range of the Pyrennés sparkles with fresh white snow. I would never have guessed to see fresh snow in June that far south, but here it is.

I decide to take a side trip to Pau, the only urban centre in the Béarn / French Pyrenées. I leave Hector at the free parking on Place Verdun and take a look at the boulevard des pyrenées, the historical centre and the castle.

Pau turns out to be an attractive mixture of medieval roots and present-day life, old buildings and new functions. Money seems to flow into the infrastructure and into the historical heart of the city, but still it appears very un-excited.

For today, a stop of 2,5 hours is fine and then I continue my voyage. After 5 days and 1.953,6 km I reach the destination as far south-west as I will get: Saint Jean-de-Luz, only one or two inches away from the Spanish border. Beneath the rain clouds, the Atlantic ocean looks similar to the German North sea, but just as ordered, the weather improves significantly the next day.

As soon as the rain stops, I take my wonderful folded bike and have a look at the centre of St. Jean-de-Luz with its typical Basque houses and Spanish flair. Even when covered by a grey and cloudy sky, the hilly ground, speckled with white houses and opening up to the wide ocean invites you to come here and spend some time.

Saint Jean-de-Luz is a pretty town of perfect size: between fisherman’s harbour and beach you will hardly get lost. Small shops, restaurants and bars spread around the city’s heart and in one of them I am willing to try local specialities and ask for the Plat du Jour.

However, the local guys next table are convincing enough that for unused palates this might be not the best choice… Finally I leave it up to the waiter and enjoy the first steak-frites with a glass of Bordeaux rouge.

After lunch, the sun comes out, accompanied by holiday feeling: yeah, south, finally! The sea has changed from grey to bright blue and the beach gets populated with people in white bathing gowns. The temperature rises and the life guards take their seats, overlooking the grande plage with cool dignity.

I am charmed by the surrounding and instantly full of energy: first is shopping for “Linge Basque”, then sightseeing in the church Saint-Jean-Baptiste. Inside, the building is full of dark wood, containing 3 levels of galleries and a sailing ship. The altar shows several rows of golden saints and the entire impression is warm and beautiful.

Later, the evening sun welcomes me for a relaxed drink at the beach bar that happens to be right beneath my camp site at the beach Erromardie. The majority of people around is local, the music is reggea and the sunset takes its time – yes, holidays are made for slowing down.

Despite the flair of St. Jean, I decide to continue my travel from here further North: Biarritz and the beaches close to Hossegor are just too tempting and one sunset does not kill my restlessness.

You never know that your shoes are not water resistant until you get caught in the rain.

Moving on from Uzès to the Tarn region, I don’t mind bright clouds and some drops of rain every now and then. Consequently, I see no point in changing my plans when I arrive the early afternoon at Carcassone, the world famous medieval town between Nîmes and Toulouse. I still don’t get the symbols straight when I head from the bus parking to the city’s entrance and a group of nuns crosses my way, hurrying just in the opposite direction. Well… I should have followed them. It takes less than 500 meters until I reach the town walls soaking wet with my shoes making funny noise on every step I take.

The good news is that the atmosphere of Carcassone wins significantly once the tourist crowds have left the tiny streets. The bad news is that it was just too wet to dare more than one snapshot and anyway, I decided that it reminds me a lot of the Mont Saint Michel and that I rather change into some dryer clothes and move on.

In fact, the old town looks quite impressive when approaching it from a distance: there is a wow-effect, no doubt. But the closer you get, the more annoying get all the shops and restaurants and advertisement for souvenirs and tourists from abroad and the rain and everything. At ground level, no house kept its old form, old narrow windows have been replaced by large glass fronts for souvenirs and wide open doors for inflowing tourists. I think of Brügge / Belgium and how they achieved a more impressing picture: they left the buildings as they have been and just inserted shops or pubs or restaurants, but kept to the exterior and the façade just as it had been. Wise they are, the Belgians…

I leave Carcassone-Land to Walt or Disney or whoever is currently responsible and continue to some basic French achievement: I remarked a huge Carrefour supermarket and within 15 minutes have everything on board for offering myself a wonderful dinner. The only thing missing is a bottle of regional wine, but this is easily set upon arrival on today’s destination.

North of Toulouse, the region around the river Tarn comes up with a pretty landscape of mountains and forests and: vineyards. Thanks to “France Passion”, I arrive the late afternoon at Isle de Tarn and make friends with the local dog. Already the route to sleepy, hidden farms is a wonderful experience, once more celebrating Hector’s slim silhouette. Upon arrival I am free to taste my way through the selection of wine that today’s host produces, learning that I love the full-berry-fruity wine best as long as it stays dry.

Although the rain does not stop, I am happy that it does not snow (here) and enjoy the calm night deep in the middle of nowhere. With gas, electric and water systems on board working just fine, I am warm and cosy inside Hector and finally oversleep my planned departure. Plans might be exaggerated, though.

It is easy to have a good time at Uzès. It is not only a lovely old town perched on a hill and accompanied by half a dozen medieval towers, but is is full of life and, even better, contains more than just a few good restaurants. I stroll around the narrow lanes with renaissance and neoclassical houses, pass by the old castle and enter the cathedral to see the wildest mixture of style centuries in only one building.

For traditional and also for bright coloured modern pottery, you could spend your travel money in St. Quentin La Poterie and in cute shops all across Uzès. If you like to keep your money for other things, you should go shopping between 1.00 and 3.00 pm, when all shops are closed. Meanwhile, I choose the late morning hours for an improvised pick-nick at Pont du Gard, cooling my feet in the river  and leaving aside the possibility of a canoe trip (this would have meant much more organisational work anyway). I congratulate myself to off-season travelling: Most of the time I barely see any people around – it is only the other day when taking a self portrait as strangers rush in for any unknown reason.

Offsetting the touristical action, I take care to spend every day some time at the neatly shaped pool (with a reasonable length of 16 meters) and do not really succeed in improving my Dutch knowledge during chats with other campers.

Uzès is one of those boomerang places: Whenever possible, I will pass by once more for all that it offers. My fist choice home-base is the inviting camp-site Mas de Rey that had been the perfect recommendation by my wise sister (as have been their restaurant infos, thanks Andy!).

Day 3 of my trip is a non-moving one. After coffee and breakfast I drive the short distance to the UNESCO world heritage Pont du Gard and enjoy a crowd-free, spectacular view on the old aqueduct.

2035 years. That is today’s age of the Pont du Gard and it still is solid, still impressive. The height of nearly 50m, the length of 275m and the fact that is has been part of a 50km water piping system, handmade and with signatures of their architects on several stones, all this is a brilliant combination of function and aesthetics.

The entire region around Uzès, Nîmes and the whole Languedoc-Roussillion is always worth to spend some time. The renaissance and medieval buildings, the Roman traces and even the pottery traditions, they are still vivid and welcoming. The following day will point out the contrast from Uzès to a medieval Disney Land, but that will bring another chapter to the story.