That is mainland France over there.
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Oyster and Mussel culture abounds in the shallow waters of the coast, we travel further south filling up with water south of Rochfort, in a little village. We were caught by the toll across the river out of Rochfort, 6 Euro not a cheap bridge. I vowed not to use toll roads or bridges on our trip. Again the holiday maker needs those to get to the sun quickly, we dont. The motorways speed you past real France to meet your Brummie campsite owner who will have a nice Fish and Chip shop on site.
The next bridge is nigh on 2 miles long over to Ile de Oleron. Again the oyster and mussel beds dominate on the east and south sides of the island. Not on the west where the Atlantic ocean thunders in. For the first time in France we spend two nights in the same place, at St Trojan on the promenade. French campingcaristes assured us it was OK despite there being an allocated area. The allocated area has no sea view and it is out of season and this is France. Gendarmes on motorcycles do a late night patrol and we may as well not exist.
Around the coast to the south west. in walking distance is point Gatseau where the Atlantic breaks through preserving the island status it is beautiful but the winds off the sea made the eyes run.
13th May
Time to investgate the Island, at the north end are cliffs and lighthouse. The Grand Plage, on the west has giant sand dunes and golden beaches as far as the eye can see. There are several access roads through the forests. One I call Hitlers Road, it is as straight as a die from the port to the Atlanic, several kilometers. At the dunes are concrete bunkers and gun emplacements, 100 meters before that roadside pillboxes and more AA instalations.
Apparently there are 30 miles of sandy beaches around the island.
Our next night stop was in a designated area, overlooking the Atlantic with lots of French, one German van. Here the sound of the ocean is the background and the skylarks are deafening.
!4th May
We visit the capital of Oleron, St Pierre, it is a large village realy with narrow streets just off the center. We spend the night at a vineyard only a few hundred meters from the city center, a producer of Pineau des Charentes, after a degustation of White and Rose we opt for a bottle of Rose, supplied from the fridge ready to drink. If you are not familiar with Pineau it is wine that has had its fermentation stopped by the addition of brandy from the same grape. It is 'a bit nice'.
Next day we cycle into town, the market square has internet access available, my first chance to get e-mails, closed on Thursdays ah well.
The laundry bag in the 'van was bulging and the Lavarie was open. We didn't know the system but returned with the van, parked in a small supermarket car park and while we shopped our laundry is washed and spun dry by a helpful lady. She spoke no English but was used to the international point and say it again language so with our French we understood everything that was going to happen to our varied and unusual load. Cost 7.5Euro.
When we returned the local Gendarmerie were out on the corners near their station handing out bags to blow into. One fellow with passengers a bit hippy looking did'nt stop too happily, blew in the bag and was out of the car round the corner to the station before we had walked past. This was about 5 pm on a nice sunny day and the third time we have seen a group of Gendarmes lurking at this time.
Another occasion saw them at the entrance of a holiday park on a Friday evening as the campers arrived. A grand operation with police arriving in a 40 seater coach. Tyre checks, towing wieghts, vehicle searches and documemt checks were the last thing the arrivals wanted, but what a captive audience, all queuing up for it.
I went to fill up with water just outside the camp, the coach was blocking my escape when I had finnished. A young lady in a bikini gave me 'dont get involved looks', she was driven off in her car, caravan behind, by a policeman. A policeman appeared from behind the coach and looked at me, I signalled that I would reverse out, he dissapeared, so did I as fast as possible. Would you like a policeman looking through everything you need for 6 months on the road.
Tough when they need to be, but fair, is how they have been described, apparently they have far reaching powers.
Otherwise the police do not show much. The local van does an evening run down the prom at St. Pierre as do the motor cycle cops enjoying the evening air.
It reminds me of the Southwold chief constable who said if he dies and goes to heaven it might be a bit busier.
La Continerier is a fishing port. A fish seller did some animated Franglais to describe the cooking of Lagustines we all understand each other 100%.
We decided to spend the night, possibly the weekend at St Trojan with Langustines for dinner. I tried fishing as the tide swept in, I landed 2 School Bass the biggest got away at surf level, other good bites took the bait, local lug from the beach.
An 8Km each way bike ride to Le Chateux across salt beds was spoilt by rain which started when we arrived. They still produce salt by evaporation of sea water here. The Chateaux area by the harbour was being used for a horse jumping event, there were more horses than spectators.
Back for the night by the bay. It was a big low tide time so at night torch fishers arrived, even if low tide is at midnight they come. They spend hours wading out and combing the shallows for shellfish the chatter when they returned was energetic. It is a family weekend thing.
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