Tag Archives: lake

France –Sillans-la-Cascade & around Lac de Sainte-Croix

We debated whether to spend another water-focused day at the delightful Camping les Pêcheurs but, lovely as it was, the idea of exploration won out.  As joyous and flowing with colour as our pitch was, draped with pink flowers and overhanging trees, we struggled for ten minutes to get out without destroying the foliage, reversing around low-hanging trees and through a narrow hedge opening that snagged mirrors and tickled Benny’s sides.  We headed north, to Parc naturel régional du Verdon.  Our route naturally took us to Sillans-la-Cascade, an area of cascading waterfalls and milky-green forest pools.  In a small car-park (43.566907, 6.182703), we found a Benny sized spot and paid €4 for 2.5 hours (half-hour free, €0.50/15 minutes).  We decided an exploratory run would be best to find some suitable swim spots.

Sillans-la-Cascade - (main pool)

We began our run in the direction everyone else was walking, following the easy rocky trail mostly downhill.  We arrived at a belvédère of the main pool and waterfall; an impressive and arresting sight that made us want to jump in immediately.  But due to a rockfall a few years ago we found out that access to the water here was now interdit, scuppering our plans.  Undeterred, we ran around several other promising nearby paths before realising that none of the river upstream of the falls was accessible.  We returned back through the car-park and beyond, crossing a bridge into Sillans-la-Cascade village and followed other footpaths on the south bank of the river.  This is where it became interesting, as we soon reached long stretches of beautiful, luminous green pools wrapped in gnarled tree roots.

Sillans-la-Cascade - (downstream pools)

Sillans-la-Cascade - (nicky swims)

Huge grins broke out on our faces as we took in each pool in turn, any one being worthy of a debut swim.  The cool water trickled down from one to the next, like the Fairy Pools on Skye.  There were deep plunge holes, natural weirs and shallow pools, and all shone as if lit from underneath.  We kept our focus and continued to the end of the path, and were duly rewarded by our arrival at another waterfall pool.  Not quite as large a pool or tall a waterfall as the main cascade seen from the belvedere, but this one was accessible for swimming and there were no overlooking crowds.  We found a place where we could access the water and quickly changed.  The clear green water was biting cold, much more so than any so far on this trip.  But this made it all the more refreshing after our sticky-hot run.

Aiguines - (town rooftop view)

Aiguines - (street view)

We swam near to the waterfall, feeling the chill spray on our faces.  Occasionally we climbed up and stood onto near-surface rocks to let the sun return some heat to our chilled limbs, but were soon back in the water again, floating happily in the deep milky blue-green water.  Tangles of tree root and branches semi-blocked channels within the pool, but we could swim under and around them as we explored.  When we felt our limbs become numb we reluctantly climbed out of the water and sunned ourselves on the rocks, our warmth soon returning.  We ate snacks and sucked in every aspect we could of the wonderful pool, before tracking back the same path.  We stopped again at several other pools and dipped again to delay our leaving.  Our final run back to Benny left us hot and sticky again.

Lac de Sainte-Croix - (walk to beach)

Lac de Sainte-Croix - (lake beach)

Lac de Sainte-Croix - (swim time)

Our swim-lust satisfied, at least for now, we moved on to the free aire (43.777123, 6.214216) near to Les Salles-sur-Verdon on the banks of Lac de Sainte-Croix.  It was spacious, with 12 vans already parked but space for the same again.  We walked to the nearest beach on the banks of the lake and were unable to resist another swim.  We spent  the rest of the day sedentary on the beach, sapped of energy but in a satisfying way.  We were in this area for a hilly 10km trail run and were glad to take it easy for the few days before.  We passed a second day here, with a leisurely walk into Les Salles-sur-Verdon via the lake shore, then finding a shady place on the beach to relax.  It was a windier day, the sea choppier and we watched many kayakers and Suppers struggle valiantly to return upwind on the lake.

Lac de Sainte-Croix - (frisbee action)

Aiguines - (race tents at finish)

Our pre-organised 10km race was on Sunday in nearby Aiguines.  It was a hilly jaunt with 680m of ascent over the distance.  There were others running various distances, the longest a 60km race beginning at 4am that had over 4km of ascent. That sounded like a very refined, exquisite kind of self-torture, and we were glad to have only entered the shorter event.  We arrived at our campsite, Camping de l’Aigle, only nine miles from our free aire.  Set on top of an expansive hill, with a gorgeous terrace overlooking Lac de Sainte-Croix, this was a fantastic place to be situated for a few days.  We knew we should be resting our legs, but we climbed steeply up through the campsite to a table d’orientation to take in a cloudy red sunset above the deep blue waters of the lake.  It was worth the extra walk.

Aiguines - (nicky running)

Aiguines - (arriving at finish)

Our race was the following morning, where we had an easy 10am start.  It was very hot, and we worried about how we’d manage in the heat.  The race proved to be more ‘falling down steep stony slopes’ and ‘walking up steep earthy slopes’, with only short stretches of running in between.  Our legs and lungs burned and our faces dripped hot, blinding sweat as we pushed on, the stubborn kilometres slow to disappear.  It was a tough course, yet we found the legs to sprint the final downhill kilometre into town, feeling fresher than at most other parts of the race.  We still only just broke 1hr 30mins, which beforehand would have seemed laughably slow for a 10k race.  But we were at the front of the field, with Nicky picking up a prize for second lady home.  I finished alongside her, as 18th male finisher.

Aiguines - (podium moment)

Aiguines - (well earned jacuzzi)

Aiguines - (wild boar visit)

We sat around, recovering and eating back all the burned calories, and more.  We were informed prize-giving would be at 3pm, so we retreated to our campsite for lunch and showers, and returned around 2.30pm for the awards.  In the time we were away, due to the late finishers in several other race distances, the 10km presentations had been rearranged.  It had already passed, and with it Nicky’s opportunity to stand on the podium – disappointing.  A later solo presentation was of little compensation.  After a few hours back at camp, we walked back into town for celebratory pizza.  It was 7pm and there were some runners still finishing the brutal 60k race, 14 hours later. As we ate our pizza we were visited by a thirsty, curious boar and a beautiful smudged red-sunset. Later we slipped into a satisfied sleep.

A&N x

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Spain – Olot (part 2), Santa Pau and Banyoles

We slept soundly in our scruffy campsite.  It was a chilly, cloudless morning as we collected our bib numbers and readied ourselves for the off.  Thinking 10km should be an easy jaunt, less than a quarter of the distance I’d completed the Sunday before at Cheverny, I was a little blasé and returned to bed until ten minutes before off.  We were less than 30 seconds from motorhome to start-line, so perfectly placed for the event.  A quick warm-up, then we set off into the town, with no notion of the route.  After many bends, streets, squares and 47 minutes and 23 seconds we arrived back, the wonderfully cool morning and number of participants allowing a fast time (for us).

Olot - race banner

Olot - pre-race warm-up

Our time was enough for Nicky to finish second in her age category, and as sixth lady overall.  We were informed that they had a small trophy for the top three placed in each section, so we waited around for the presentations.  Unfortunately we found out that trophies were only awarded in the half marathon race, not the 10k, so it wasn’t to be.  We had the consolation of having each been gifted two vacuum-packed bags of non-descript meat for finishing the race.  (The half-marathon finishers each received a leg of ham).  We inquired later with some locals and were told it was definitely pork, but ears, noses and tongues were mentioned, along with intestines and blood.  We were to boil our prize for between one and three hours and were promised it would be the tastiest thing ever.  Mmmm.

Santa Pau - free aire

Santa Pau - village

Instead of parading with our tacky plastic trophy, we instead had post-race showers at the campsite, packed up and headed off to stopover at a free aire in nearby Santa Pau ( 42.146914n, 2.568332e )  This was a peaceful, large field close to the centre that we had almost to ourselves.  Later we had a mid-afternoon stroll around the beautiful medieval stone village, seeing the Castell de Santa Pau and the softly rolling hillsides it sat within from many angles.

Santa Pau - Nicky at castle

We drove a little way back the next morning, intent on walking an advertised 10km loop of the local extinct volcanoes.  We avoided a packed car-park charging €8 to enter, instead parking about 400m away in a much nicer free area, almost entirely unused, with wonderfully spacious motorhome spaces.  A perfect base, and we couldn’t fathom why so many were paying in the other car-park, other than to save themselves the little extra walk.

Volcano walk - free parking

We set off through knotty forests trails with twisted roots and cool shade.  Some stretches, nearer to the car-parks, were overrun with parents and their young kids, a reminder this was the beginning of the Easter holidays and most places were likely to be busy.  We first passed the crater of Volcà de Santa Margarida, named for the church built down inside the forested rim.  Later we circled around the Volcà del Croscat, where we passed groups of kids on what looked like their first camping trip, all noise and chat, some carrying packs bigger than themselves.  There were stretches of beautiful forest trails with jumbles of lava rocks and tree roots.  It wasn’t long before we arrived back at our starting point.  It took us 2hrs 30mins to walk around the 12km route at our leisurely pace, although the signboards suggested 4hrs 20mins for the loop.  Perhaps we need to stop off and savour the views a little more.

Volca del Croscat - forest trails

Volca del Croscat - paths

From here we drove a short way on narrow, winding roads, passing loose white horses with young foals on the way.  We arrived at an €19 ASCI campsite in Banyoles ( 42.120655n, 2.747245e ) set on the shores of a luminous blue lake.  It had tight, cramped pitches, marked with stones on open areas with no privacy, and many scruffy and unoccupied permanent sites.  The hook-up was low amp electricity that we tripped twice in the first two minutes before we learned of its secrets.  But once in and settled, we sat still for a few hours and properly relaxed, glad for the restful downtime both mentally and physically.  We both suffered poor sleep due to drunken chatting and dogs barking into the wee hours, not the relaxing quietness that we’d had in each of the free aires we’d stayed at to date.

Banyoles -Nicky on run

Banyoles - Nicky looking over lake

We got ourselves up at 8am and headed out to run a circuit of the nearby lake.  Beautiful in the low morning light, the lake was well used with casual kayakers and serious rowers being drilled by coaches in motorised craft.  Plenty of others are walking or running the shore path.  We ran at a slow pace, stopping frequently to take in all the miradors and enjoy the wonderful freshness of the morning air.  The loop was just shy of 8km, an easy jaunt to waken us up and properly kick-start our day. We rewarded our efforts with an early brunch of butties thick with bacon and HP sauce, both brought all the way from the UK.  Then, with full stomachs and content from our early exercise, it was time to head for the rugged stony coastline, the central focus of our planned Costa Brava trip.

A&N x

Spain – Ulibarri-Gamboa lake – walks, runs and cycles

Under dull, monotone skies and with heavy hearts we again said our goodbyes to San Sebastián and drove south, away from the coast. The morning was chilly, a damp, hanging fog had descended and, combined with a light but bitingly sharp breeze, the heat from our limbs was ripped away.  This was very different weather from our glorious arrival.  For twenty miles we remarked on how green Spain was looking, until suddenly the entire countryside transformed into blonde stubble fields and burnt grass, a palette of pale yellows and muted browns.  It looked like this region had suffered drought and burning sun for long months.  We were on an easy dual carriageway, twisted and steep as it navigated the hilly terrain, reaching the northern outskirts of Vitoria-Gasteiz.

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (first look)

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (circuit map)

We had plans to visit Ulibarri-Gamboa lake for a few days of gentle running, walking and, perhaps, swimming. Our first stop was a tourist office at Garaio, near the south-east lake shore.  Here we were informed that we could park overnight at one of the nearby car-parks, which proved ideal for us.  We went there and ate lunch, marvelling again at our luck.  The sun had broken through, burned off all the fog and the sky was a cloudless pastel blue.  The trees lining the park were turning to the muted reds and amber of rich autumn colours, and best of all, there were no other visitors; the stunning lakeside park was all ours.  During a leisurely lunch armed with detailed maps from the tourist office we planned a 44km cycle (tomorrow) and a 13km easy walk/run (today), each hugging the shore.  We set off in perfect running conditions; still warm air, wonderful autumn foliage providing occasional shade, no time constraints and with no one else in sight.

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (viewpoint above church)

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (running trails)

We passed timber miradors overlooking wide, still rivers alive with grebes, coots and egrets, feeling a little guilty when our presence disturbed their restful day.  The paths were leaf-strewn gravel or compacted white sandstone dust, perfect for exploring on foot.  We crossed a low timber bridge, more of a pontoon, then later another more substantial, arrow straight bridge, built high above the water.  We could see energetic sprites darting in skittish shoals below our feet.  Just beyond this bridge crossing stood the ivy-clad remains of a stone church, the sole remaining structure from one of the many abandoned villages that were flooded back in the 1950’s during the formation of this important regional reservoir.  Exactly on our 13km expectation, after passing loose cows on the path, we crossed a raised timber walkway that returned us to the rear of the quiet car-park where Benny was patiently waiting.  Joyed by the beautiful weather and happily weary from our beautiful, exploratory run, we spent a restful afternoon sipping tea and scoffing pannettone, amazed we’d found yet another gem of a stop.

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (towards church ruin)

The stillness and quiet, mixed with fresh-air and exercise, led us both to a deep, lengthy sleep.  After nearly 11 hours in bed, we were well rested and utterly famished.  After breakfast we chatted to our new motorhoming neighbours Nadine and Chris, a couple who lived in the Vendée coastal town of St Jean de Monts.  We have long been considering a circular coastal trip round Brittany, starting near Nantes, and their kind offer for us to visit anytime may make a very good starting point for our planning.

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (view accross)

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (aaron on shore)

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (return to benny)

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (great parking)

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (start cycling)

We finally got moving, wary under very different conditions.  The sky was now streaked with muted greys, almost black in places, layering the whole park with a shroud.  Autumn foliage was no longer vibrant and bright, but consisted of muted browns and muddy olive greens.  We hoped it might clear with time, but sensibly planned for the more likely scenario – dull, persistent rain. With waterproof jackets donned, we started off in the reverse direction of yesterday’s run, following the lake shore on easy paths.  We covered distance quickly and soon were back at the tall straight bridge, but passed by rather than crossing.  From here the path quickly deteriorated, a less used route.  It was steeper now, up and down in rugged, rocky bumps, the surface deeply cracked and broken like it had recently been subject to flash floods.

We had to dismount and push for a couple of the steeper climbs, the path too poor to gain traction. Soon after we joined a tarmac road, glad for the easy going. With a miserable drizzle filling the air, and with low visibility across the lake, we decided to stick on the road and enjoy a simpler stretch, cruising downhill and across a river before rising smoothly up to meet the main dam.  We paused soon after to nibble fruit cake on a timber bench and could barely see the walls of the dam opposite – such a different day from before.  Soaked through and devoid of views, we pushed on with a shortcut in mind.  Before we got there Nicky’s front tyre was punctured and we had to pause on the path, in heavy rain, to fix it.  Only here did we discover all our glues had expired so a patch was impossible but we also carried a spare tube, so this was fitted and we were on our way again.

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (on the trail)

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (steep rises)

At the top left-hand corner of the lake, near Landa, we decided to forego the shore-hugging cycle route and, heads down, quickly progressed down the shorter, straighter, easy tarmac route to Marieta. Turning right off the road, we re-joined the wiggling cycle path, walked across a pedestrian bridge we’d ran over the day before and, after another grassy shortcut, we happily arrived back at Benny.   Our shortcut had reduced the lap to 37km, rather than the expected 44km. Drying, cleaning, rinsing, showering and packing dominated our next hour, as we faced the usual motorhome struggle of what to do with a load of sodden gear, especially when the rains persist outside.  We steamed cosily inside, reading and supping tea much of the afternoon.

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (evening walk views)

Ulibarri-Gamboa lake (evening views)

Late afternoon, after a warming rest, we got a little restless and decided on a short walk.  The weather had dried up and small patches of blue sky were visible in the otherwise grey murk. We followed the road back towards the tourist office, before cutting left to ascend to a local high point. Stone steps formed the route, our leg muscles being tested again. Adding just this small raise changed the perspective over the lake.  We spent a few restful moments at the top picking out places we had visited and spotting key landmarks in the rolling landscape.  A small number of vivid copper trees lit up the vista, set between a sea of darkened green, lime and white leaves.  At a distance we could just see the river that had been dammed to form the reservoir.

At the bottom of the mound we passed a metal sculpture of a dinosaur-like creature that, like the polar bear in Tromsø before it, just had to be climbed.  (always a child at heart).

A&N x

France – Saint-Junien & Saint Pardoux

After our relaxing, relatively speaking, week of birthdays and dinner parties, we continued with our renovations and works.  We were refreshed, attacking jobs with a renewed vigour and keener eye. We ticked off many items but our to-do list continued to grow longer as we discovered other items needing replaced or other projects we suddenly felt excited by.  Ensuring variation in our tasks kept our interest and energy high.  Our focus is on working hard, but we have the freedom to stop, rest, take a day off, have a dip in the pool or try something new when the mood takes us.  We are tied to nothing, our time is ours to use as we wish. We have been foraging, baking cakes, learning music and languages, stone wall building, roofing, planning orchard tree layouts, digging our fledgling vegetable patch.

LaJourdanie- (our first veg bed)

A previously ignored stone chicken shed, with a semi-collapsed roof, surrounded by weeds and with years of thick, compacted rubble inside was suddenly seen as a potential man-cave.  I would sneak away to work on clearing this at intervals between prepping or painting walls.  Looking for more outside jobs whilst the weather was good, Nicky got excited about uncovering the circular stone well set tight on our boundary.  It was almost entirely blanketed in ivy, with a thick carpet of moss on the broken canal tiles scattered loosely around its ineffective roof.  We added its revival to our long list of to-do works.  We dipped in and out of these unessential garden jobs at the whims of mood and weather, enjoying our time outside and the constant, obvious progress that such distinctive clearances offered.

LaJourdanie- (Well roof - before)

LaJourdanie- (Well roof - after)

We had a visit from friends Monica and Ken from our previous house-sit in Cazeneuve.  After a long, enjoyable road trip on their shiny new Triumph motorbikes, they arrived with us early afternoon.  We fell into their easy company, swimming in our pool in the afternoon heat and sipping beers as we caught up.  We later walked around our place, giving them the full tour and garnering their helpful opinions and experiences on the works we are undertaking or planning to do.  We took a leisurely walk along a local grassy chemin to loop around a small lake, before returning for an al-fresco dinner and drinks.  We sat outside until darkness then retired to our lounge and chatted long into the night.  After breakfast we said our goodbyes as they headed off to further explore our region, visiting our recommendations of Oradour-sur-Glane and Brantôme.

St-Junien- (nicky with planes)

St-Junien- (aerobatic planes)

One fine day, as a different sort of effort, we cycled the 30km to Saint-Junien to visit an advertised airshow.  We followed minor roads and off-road trails where we could, waggling our way north all the time. The route was mostly downhill, a very pleasant roll passing through the small hamlet of St-Martin-de-Jussac to the river Vienne where we crossed the bridge into St-Brice-sur-Vienne.  Only then did we face a long, steep climb away from the river to the top end of Saint-Junien to reach the hosting airfield.  We abandoned our bikes and walked into the event, exploring lines of classic cars and obscure farming equipment, cannons and warfare implements, all manner of motorbikes and of course, small acrobatic planes that were the star of the event.  Local flights were available for all who wished it.

St-Junien- (classic cars)

St-Junien- (before and after car)

We checked out the museum displays and small stalls, surprised that the show was not busier.  We read posters describing in detail many planes and their uses, and watched a long queue of people take their turn to experience a virtual reality flying experience.  After a thorough look around and a few cheap sugary crêpes to fuel us, we got back on our bikes.  We took a different route home, simply for variation and exploratory purposes.  We passed through similar scenery and beautiful but hilly woodland paths, before stopping at Saint-Auvent to look in their pretty church.  Soon after, we paused at the étang de la Pouge, a long, thin lake that we hoped might have swim potential.  There were no signs saying no, but with the presence of fishermen, we feared it was not the best location for swimming.

Condat-sur-vienne - (race start)

Condat-sur-vienne - (us at race)

We entered a local 10km race, as something to shake us from our slumber on an otherwise lazy Sunday morning.  We drove twenty minutes to the village of Condat-sur-Vienne where the race would begin, parking in a nearby Lidl car-park.  It was a busy event, popular and bustling, and we felt good to be a small part of such a thriving running community.  The run took us on closed roads and along gravelled woodland tracks, with overhanging trees providing welcome shade from the morning sun.  52 minutes later we had completed our two laps of the marked 5km loop, having enjoyed the wonderful paths and the cheering crowds.  The mayor and other eminent locals presented a wealth of prizes in multiple categories, along with a tombola, using your race number, that gifted bottles of wine.

St-Pardoux - (Running walkways)

After a further few weeks of house-related works, we decided to treat ourselves with another break, this time a long weekend at Saint PardouxWe had visited it previously, enjoying the swimming lake and woodland trails, and it was close by, only 40 mins north of us.  We reached the comfortable aire, much less busy than on our last visit, and picked out a prime spot to relax into.  We knew our way around from before, so it was easy to plan our days here.  We ran each morning, following the coastal woodland trails on soft paths of tree roots and pine needles.  With only one bridge splitting the lake, we faced either a 27km loop of the entire lake, or more local laps around the lake edge and inland backroads.  The latter enabled us to create circular routes of 10 to 12km which suited our running level.

St-Pardoux - (lake sunset)

St-Pardoux - (causeway to island)

St-Pardoux - (returning to the lake)

Post-run, we rewarded ourselves with plenty of beach time, thinking of nothing other than the book in our hand as we soaked up the toasting sun.  We had frequent cooling dips into the cloudy water, but little real swimming.  Still feeling a little disappointed with her swimming performance in this summer’s SwimRun event, Nicky tried out various combinations of trainers, floats and neoprene shorts trying to find the optimal, speedy solution for her.  From the beach I timed her swims from buoy to buoy to ascertain how each outfit fared.  We ventured out for short evening walks, enjoying the burst of deep-red sunsets over the still water and the soothing sounds of calling birds.  Other motorhomes came and went, milling around busily, as we stayed still, unruffled, the calm centre of our restful universe.

LaJourdanie- (picking apples)

Fresh bread, croissants and pastries were available from a well-stocked vending machine behind the tourist building, refilled twice daily, so we had no need to move.  We could have stayed longer, enjoying our running and the fresh, lake-side air.  But we decided to return home after two nights and three days, as we found ourselves missing our house, and jobs not yet began were creeping back into our thoughts.  We were being taken over by a compulsion to work, to keep busy, to better our nest.  We wonder how long the novelty will last, this daily excitement of hard, physical work, so we want to utilise our willingness and drive whilst the determination still exists.  Yet these two nights in Benny, our time filled with runs and swims, re-sparked the interest and excitement of the road again.

Longer trips will soon be visible on our horizon.

A&N x

France – Saint Pardoux, and our new French house

Note:  We’ve been sans Internet for several weeks as we worked our way through the maze of French bureauracy, so are only now catching up with ourselves on the blog plus, we’ve been busy settling in, as you can read all about in our next exciting update. If you like.

We left Neris-Les-Bains in good form, and after another easy hour west we reached the shores of Saint Pardoux, a large, popular swim lake north of Limoges.  It was busy on this sunny Friday afternoon, with lots of frolicking locals enjoying down-time on the pleasant lake-side beach.  We drove through the extensive parking areas, them looking empty of cars in comparison to number of available spaces, and found the dedicated motorhome aire set in a shady corner of the site.  We picked out a spot and quickly packed for the beach, and made our way to join the crowds.

Saint Pardoux (spacious free aire)

Saint Pardoux (relaxing at Benny)

There were picnickers galore, quiet dippers cooling off, noisy children playing boisterously and jumping off a floating platform, and a few proper swimmers grinding out lengths tight along the buoy-marked edge of the demarcated swimming area.  The longest available length we guessed was around 250m, so decent enough for a training swim.  We soon joined them, wearing rash vests as protection against the hot sun rather than the cold, to swim a few lazy lengths. The lake water was 27 degs, the hottest we’d found so far in France.  After four lengths we decided that was sufficient and lazed on the beach, reading and people-watching.  As the afternoon passed the crowds grew, with more and more weekenders joining the fray and filling up the once generous spaces between sites on the hot sand.

Saint Pardoux (beach setup)

We showered off at the beach and, with the thumping music from the adjacent slide-pool complex ringing in our ears, we returned to Benny for dinner.  Afterwards, we had a quiet walk to another part of the lake and watched a deep red sunset over the now-still water.  We sat under the trees in silence and sipped at wine. Later that evening we moved Benny to help accommodate another British couple who had arrived late. They had parked up in another area of the park and only at 9.30pm had the Gendarmes passed by and told them to move as, despite there being no signs posted, overnighting was not allowed.  With a quick retraction of our awning and a minimal amount of repacking, we rolled back and over on our large pitch, allowing them squeeze in beside us, earning grateful thanks.

Saint Pardoux (sunset drinks)

That night there was to be a blood moon eclipse.  We checked in early but the sky was thick with cloud, although in short patches we snatched the occasional glimpse of the dull, reddish moon not yet being eclipsed.  But by 11pm the cloud cover was breaking up, so we returned to the beach area and continued to watch with patience.  The moon kindly appeared in revealing bursts of bright light, framed by the residues of wispy cloud.  Other spectators had decided on a late swim and now lay out on the lake’s floating pontoon, under the stars, taking in the softly glowing spectacle.  Satisfied, we returned to Benny and to welcome sleep.  Short hours later, a morning bread van visited the aire, beeping softly to attract our attention, and we treated ourselves to soft, fresh croissants and pains au chocolat.

Saint Pardoux (blood moon 1)

We spent a lazy day in and out of the lake and decided early to pass a second night in this fantastic aire.  As we had each evening, we walked back to the beach, a large glass of red in hand, and watched ITV4’s highlight show of the Tour de France.  This was the nearest spot from where we could utilise the much-appreciated free beach WiFi for streaming – Le Tour with a view.  We watched jealously as large gatherings of friends and families set up huge barbeques in various locations around the park.  We had a more modest meal in Benny.  Later we watched a deep red sunset set over a quiet part of the lake with an encore glass of red, thinking what a wonderful resource this place was, all provided by the local council.  We will be returning again to enjoy its warm, cloudy waters and quiet paths.

Saint Pardoux (sunset lake)

Saint Pardoux (selfie cheers)

On Sunday afternoon we drove to Séreilhac, an aire we had visited previously, and one only a few easy-driving minutes from our new house.  We had a quiet evening, equally apprehensive and excited.  Tomorrow morning at 9am we had organised to meet the sellers, agent and notaire, to finalise all formalities and formally collect the keys to our new place.  It’s really all very real now – we will now be, baring catastrophe, new home-owners in France.

A&N x

 

France – Abondance & our first experience of a French hospital

We returned from Zermatt by the same route, the only route really, via Sion to Martigny.  Only here we deviated from our previous path, leaving Switzerland by a different Col as we climbed and wiggled our way to the mountain town of Abondance, back in French territory.  We pulled onto the spacious gravel of the town’s free aire and had our choice of spot, with only three other vans in residence; the large aire could absorb maybe thirty vans.  We were undecided about our onward route, and had many days to spare before returning to sign for our house, so we decided to reduce our travelling time and stop here. Plus, Nicky wasn’t feeling very well and wanted to rest up.  The latter was later to define our time here, as her painful symptoms exacerbated quickly and rest brought little relief.

Abondance (view of town)

Later in the afternoon we had a short hobble around the centre of Abondance, Nicky still suffering with her pains.  We looked in several shops and had our obligatory visit to the church, but the effort was too much and Nicky had to return to bed for a longer lie down.  We passed a quiet night, but the morning brought her no respite.  We could no longer ignore the jabbing stomach pains, especially when a Google of the symptoms brought up a litany of possible, all worrying, causes.  So we shuffled over to the only open doctor in town at 8am, thankfully a walk-in centre where we were the only patients, and paid for a consultation.  The concerned doctor said the pains were not normal and we needed to go to hospital for a scan.  Concerned with us driving a motorhome to the hospital he ordered an ambulance pick-up to come from Thonon-Les-Bains, 30km away, and deposit us directly in their A&E department.

Abondance (walking through town)

Back at our van we packed a bag with some obvious essentials and awaited their arrival.  30 mins later Nicky was, with over-precautionary detail, laid down, wrapped in thin white, cloth and strapped to a folding-leg gurney for transit.  I sat in beside her, holding her hand for comfort as we were driven down the mountain to Thonon.  Midway there, interrupted by the opening of a sliding partition from the front seats, we had a form thrust at us, stating that the ambulance service was a private enterprise and as foreigners we had to pay a spot fee of €240 for the privilege of their service.  A card machine also magically materialised and was soon sucking on our credit card hungrily.  To add further insult, we soon arrived at the hospital, passing through huge swathes of car-parks, all empty and free for hospital visitors.  Benny would have easily been accommodated in any number of the larger corner spaces.

Abondance - ambulance pick-up

But at least arriving at A&E afforded us a modicum of queue-jumping, and we were soon in a ‘box’, an examination room, where Nicky had a cursory chat and examination, all in French, by a very young but thoroughly professional doctor.  Bloods were taken for analysis and we were soon demoted to a corridor space for several hours before a scan opportunity became available.  We had had only one experience with French health care before, when we had to attend a doctor appointment in Villeneuve-Sur-Lot to have the necessary certification form signed allowing us to compete in our SwimRun event at lake Vassivière.  This was a much more stressful day, with Nicky’s constant pain, long periods of not knowing what was happening, when we would be seen, or what the next stage might entail.

Thonon - hospital examination room

We were stuck in a corridor with several very unwell people, especially one poor lady who had serious vomiting issues.  She would retch and splutter and bark much louder than we thought was physically necessary, the noise both distracting and nauseating.  Hours later she was still loudly attempting to evacuate an empty stomach, her dry, screaming rasps painful to both her and us. Another sick patient, perhaps with additional mental health issues, was locked into an examination room next to us and would desperately knock the window to gain our attention, punctuated with occasional screaming and cursing in French.  She would also have terrible periods of mimicking the vomiting lady; each desperate throat-rasping evacuation she suffered was repeated sarcastically, louder and more elaborately-voiced, from the small window of the room.  It was not a good space to relax in, yet we had to spend seven hours here, living with the guttural sounds and the tense, medically unknown and unresolved situation.

Thonon - hospital canula

Nicky was eventually called for her scan, whereas I was denied entry and instead ejected to the public waiting room.  She was wheeled off as I waited outside.  During this time she was left locked in the room with no information or guidance, anxious.  An hour later a kindly passing nurse informed me my wife was back out, dumped again in a nearby corridor.  I found her and we sat another long while, before our young doctor reappeared to explain the situation.  Yes, an obvious inflammation was confirmed on the scan and coupled with the blood test results an infection in Nicky’s gut was confirmed.  Yes, antibiotics will clear it all up, here’s the necessary prescription.  But there was more.  We had to collect prescription off-site, not in the hospital, and it was now late; we had sat, between a small examination room and the busy corridor, for an amazing nine hours in total, since our arrival.  We’d had no opportunity for lunch and had to beg several times even for a refill of our one water bottle.

Abondance (neighbours arrive)

We walked a loop around the hospital but found all buses into town had stopped running at 7pm, so returned to the main reception to request a taxi to town and the exact location of the after-hours pharmacy.  After a long day of waiting, we had another 45 minutes to restlessly sit until the promised ‘in 20 minutes’ taxi arrived.  He took us into Thonon, but to the wrong pharmacy.  Stranded, we asked how much his taxi back to Abondance would be and he quoted over €100, so we declined.  We managed to walk a few hundred metres and find the correct pharmacy.  We picked up the required medication, but it was now pushing 9.30pm in an unfamiliar town.  With limited options we decided the taxi fare back to Benny was better spent on resting up, so we located a central hotel and happily procured a nice room for €69, opposite the bus terminal that would take us back to Benny for €6 each tomorrow.

Abondance (in the aire)

Exhausted from the day’s stress and drama, we sprawled out in our room, so glad to be somewhere other than a hospital corridor. Nicky took the first round of her medication, hoping for quick action.  We’d not eaten since breakfast, other than a shared dry cereal bar, but didn’t have the will or energy to worry about dinner – sleep was more immediate and necessary.  We slept soundly until 9am, even with the heat of our top-floor room. I popped out for breakfast bananas and croissants, the latter fresh out of the oven and beautifully soft; never had croissants tasted so buttery and sweet, or been devoured so fast.  The colourful Thonon markets were in full bloom, but the stifling morning heat combined with continuing stomach pains were too much for Nicky, so we lay supine on a patch of shady grass for an hour, overlooking the glistening Lake Léman as we awaited the next bus back to Abondance.

Abondance (sunset)

We boarded and watched the mountains draw closer, surprised at there being so few customers on the double-sized bus. Forty minutes later we were ejected on the main street of Abondance and walked the short distance back to where Benny was waiting, relieved to be reunited with our own deeply comforting safe space.  Rest and recovery for Nicky was now our key objective for the coming days.

A&N x