Machecoul. This is the place we’ve selected to break our journey back northwards, towards home, We’re not in a rush, so can have two or three nights and see the town.
The weather is changing from heatwave into unsettled now, as it is at home, although to begin with it’s still sunny- just not so hot.
The first thing we notice as we approach Machecoul is the giant church. It’s often the case that French churches are huge buildings, dwarfing everthing around them. This one has two imposing twin spires. We turn off into the abrupt entrance to the site, which is municipal and lies on the edge of the town. It’s all perfectly laid out and tidy, next to the river and a canoe centre which is busy on this late Friday afternoon, rumbustious activities with groups of children.
We’ve barely checked in and parked up before a pair of mallards home in on us- quack! quick! New source of food arrived! They positively race towards us as we reverse into the space. Once I’ve unearthed the remai ns of a baguette and shredded it for them, they settle down on the grass next to us. The female- as usual- is much bolder than her partner and after some coaxing gobbles the bread from my hand. The male hangs back but gets cross and attacks her over stray crumbs.
Later, we walk across the bridge and into the small town, where it soon becomes clear that the church is the main/only item of interest. Otherwise there are a couple of streets of shops [and ex-shops], one or two bars and a covered marketplace. There’s also a tourist information office, although it’s mystifying what tourists should do here. There is supposed to be a chateau, but there’s no obvious sign of it- certainly no pointers to its whereabouts.
There’s a PMU bar- always to be relied on, although it doesn’t sell food. It’s busy. Next door is a restaurant, which seems to be the only one operating. It could also get very busy!
Later on we decide to give the restaurant a go. There’s a small table for two by the window. The food is very good- which is a relief!
In the morning, having got bread for lunch, I pop into the [now open] tourist information for a map of the local area, where a lone young woman has been tasked with holding the fort and discover that the chateau is actually opposite our camp site, behind some hefty, locked gates. Who knew? She plies me with a brochure. IT seems, however that the chateau is, in fact a ruin and also cannot be visited! This town seems determined not to attract tourists if it can help it!
The local map suggests walking and cycling routes, so in the afternoon we decide to try the walking route, making our way to the start point and following along a nondescript street by a small ‘canal’- one waterway that would not accomodate anything resembling a barge.
The route is mystifying- sending us, basically, around a housing estate. After an hour or so of trekking along suburban streets past house after house we’ve seen nothing of interest and give up. On the way back we do pass the ‘chateau’, catching a glimpse of the ruins through the thick hedge of trees.
We’ve one final day here and need to run the van out to charge the batteries, so we revisit a coastal fishing hamlet we cycled to years ago. It’s wild and unspoilt, with long rows of fishing huts and just one canalside bar and restaurant. Further on we stop in a deserted car park and make tea. We’ll be off north again tomorrow…
For fiction by me, Jane Deans, search for novels: The Conways at Earthsend [an eco-thriller] and The Year of Familiar Strangers [mystery drama]. Visit my website: janedeans.com
Anecdotage 