Sunday 29th
April
En route to Spain
The plan was to leave Paris early and head to Spain. If we were to contend with end of holiday
traffic and negotiate the wonderful motorways out of Paris then we should get
going early; but after such a delightful indulgence the previous day, we took
off in drizzling weather a little later than planned.
What do you see on an AutoRoute?
Cars, speed, big fuel stations and brown tourist signs showing you what
you didn’t get to see as you whizz past….we especially lamented over the signs
with the castles of the Loire or Da Vinci’s home thinking that at least we have
seen them more personally than this.
Anyway to be in Seville by Wednesday means we need to be like the
Parisians and get there fast! So
speeding through the Loire Valley, bypassing where a great grandma was from
(Bordeaux) we couldn’t wait to get out of the fast lane and go west…as The
Village People once said.
The SW corner of France has the best surf beaches. Having been to Hossegor before and seeing its
big surf and Rip Curl, Billabong and Quiksilver shops, the approach from the
north was quite different. We expected
to see a coastal road and rolling sand dunes….sort of a bit like coming through
Torquay and hitting the Great Ocean Rd.
In reality we drove through hectares of pine plantations as we hugged
the coast, passing kms of varying stages of grown and harvested timber, stumps
and neat stacks of pine. It was later that we read in our trusty DK guidebook
that the tree plantations are helping to keep the sand dunes in place as the
roaring Atlantic winds shift them. It
was after 7pm that we finally found a campsite open where we could pitch the
tent for the night…amongst tall pines of course. We had tried for a campsite next to the dunes
of Vieu-Boucou-les Bains but management had closed at 6pm. We’re just a little early in the season…but
as they say here… “de rien”!
And so it was the next morning that we found ourselves on the most
popular surf beach in France where the summer population swells by
thousands. Hossegor has very fast tubes
as they say in the trade but on this grey stormy morning in April there was no
sign of tubes, people, surf schools or coffee shops open for custom. It was in the bakery in nearby Capbreton that
we resorted for warmth, coffee and paninis. The local “Gateau Basque” finished
us off - a yummy almond cake. We then headed off on a 750km drive to Sevilla in
Southern Spain.
