To Soulac-sur-Mer: We cross the Gironde Estuary

August 27, 2013

After travelling more than 1000km along the west coast of France at the height of summer I am beginning to feel that I am becoming an expert on French beaches and the French on holiday at the beach. Firstly the beaches vary enormously. Around the Normandy Coast there seemed to be no sand at all just lots of little round pebbles . However we started to run into sandy beaches and are now in the land of massive sand dunes. We have passed wonderful little harbours and rocky headlands where the ever vigilant French fisherman is aiming to catch the last remaining fish. Fruit de mer are abundant all along the coast with each little place seeming to have its own fish market. The number of moules being eaten is extraordinary and they are on every menu. They come in uniform round black pot, you lift off the lid and with your fingers get stuck into the delicious steaming little creatures discarding the shells in the unturned lid. With them comes a plate of frites, these seem to me a bit different as they are kind of curly and a bit puffed up. After your meal your hands have a distinctly fishy smell but you have been provided with a lemon hand wipe to take care of this.

Campgrounds are everywhere. In many of them there are lots of permanent looking mobile homes with tiny pretty gardens, many of them are I think privately owned (as we would own a bach in New Zealand). There are of course lots of camping cars (motorhomes) which vary from the quite modest to the enormous. Last night we were in a quite modest camping ground, it was about a kilometer back from the beach set in pine and a few oak trees. Its facilities included the seemingly essential piscine, a childrens play ground, a snack/pizza bar, a laundry, a barbeque area and a small shop as well as the usual showers toilets etc. Everything was spotless. We chose it from the around 6 in the area because the reception happened to be open at the time we passed it on a Monday! The French on holiday have lots of family fun. The camping groups often included 3 generations . I particularly enjoyed watching one dad playing a game with his small children using 3 pine cones, mum was cooking dinner. What do they do as well as being ‘immersed in domesticity’. Well everyone has a bike, if you are too tiny to ride (and that must be very tiny indeed) you have a seat on Mum’s, Dad’s or Granddad’s. You need a good basket on your bike to carry all the buckets and spades and fishing nets. They set of on expeditions to le plage There are safe bike paths everywhere and where we were last night a variety of beaches you could go to. An expedition to the piscine is of course a must and in the evening you can go to the fun fair to try your luck at the various side shows or ride dodgems, merry go rounds or ferris wheels. There is of course always close by a restaurant where you can eat seafood and drink Sangria.

Now there are the men. They are always men never women. Women do not have the requisite exterminator gene. They are out to rid this land of the dreaded fish. Some of course have boats which they launch in the tiny rocky harbours, these serve a dual purpose as they also satisfy the need to own an old tractor. Alternatively you can take your multiple rods (there are some very tricky ways for carrying them on a bike) and perch on a rocky headland. Another method is of course to sit in one of those strange little houses and let the tide rise and fall around you as you raise and lower the net that is attached to it. In all my observation of French fishermen I have never yet seen one catch a fish. They are obviously the world’s supreme optimists.

Today's ride: 67 km (42 miles)
Total: 1,705 km (1,059 miles)

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