Tag Archives: Saint Brice en Cogles

The Beginning of the Road…

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During our latest bit of travel, I’d begun reading American author, Miranda July’s raunchy, outrageous novel, ‘All Fours’. The story begins with the protagonist, a middle-aged woman, setting off on a solo road trip to New York from LA for a work assignment. Its her first long distance drive and entails several stopovers but having set out, she stops thirty minutes out from her home, husband and child, checks into a motel room and stays there for the two and a half weeks she’d planned to be away. While there she sets out to transform the room with a refurbishment and leads a life of abject debauchery involving a lot of outrageous sex.

So in a curious parallel to the start of the book I’d been reading, our current trip lands us in a beige, no-frills hotel room, though without the refurbishment and without the debauchery…

We’d begun in our usual style: scramble up- drive to the port- on to the ferry- up to the cafe for pastries and coffee- down to the couchettes for a snooze- off the ferry at Cherbourg- stop at Orange telecoms for a SIM card- onwards and southwards to our regular stop, an aire at St Brice en Cogles, just into Brittany, where we can stay safely, free of charge. We went to our usual bar and had our usual beer, returned to the van and cooked dinner, had showers, had a peaceful night, woke and prepared to leave.

Husband got into the drivers seat intending to take the van across to the emptying space to rid ourselves of the grey water. He turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. Not one smidgeon of life.

I sat at the back and wailed: No, no, nooooo! Not again!

I rang the insurance roadside assistance, who ascertained our location and set about finding a local rescue truck. I went out to the town. I figured it was better to do something while we waited. A gaggle of interested fellow-motorhomers was gathering- no doubt a measure of schadenfreude was kicking in.

When I returned from my wander, a flat-bed truck had arrived. The interested onlookers were still there, making suggestions and comments- none of which were helpful. Before I reached it, I could see that the van had started, which flooded me with a sense of relief, initially, until Husband said it had been started by the rescue man from his vehicle and was still unable to start by itself.

Rescue man showed us a garage where the battery could be checked, all he was willing to do. I began to feel nauseous, but we had no other option except to go there and see if the garage would fix it. On arrival, we parked in the garage car park, turning off the engine and acknowledging that we’d be going nowhere else for now. Since the garage, ‘Roady’ was closed for lunch, we had lunch too, although I didn’t feel in the slightest bit hungry.

At 2.00pm we went in and explained our predicament, upon which an employee- kindly but reluctant- came out to look and determined that there was nothing at all wrong with the van’s battery. Could they fix whatever the problem was? Indeed not. All French garages had had summer holidays and were now engaged in working through a backlog of jobs. We were truly stuck.

What next?

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Van to Vannes

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We’ve not been back long from Malta- but feel it’s time to get off somewhere in the van. There have been unfortunate circumstances punctuating our van travel in the last few years but we’re hopeful, now, that things have been resolved.

We won’t be doing anything exceptional, rather visiting familiar territory in easy, comfortable France, where vans and motorhomes are catered for better than anywhere.

Packing the van is never my favourite part of van travel but it gets done and we manage the early morning scramble [when I have to wrestle with the fridge contents] and short drive to our local port of Poole, arriving to a quiet check-in with only a few vehicles and even fewer campervans.

Then we’re on board and the sun is streaming through the windows as we exit Poole Harbour- a very beautiful area, for those who don’t know it- and enjoy Brittany Ferries’ coffee and pastries, which are very welcome. Then I do my usual descent down to the couchettes for a snooze and a read, which is really the only way to pass the four hour crossing. We’ve long since given up looking round the shop or wandering the decks. Other than one or two families with very young children or babies, the boat is quiet.

Once arrived, we go first to the ‘Orange’ shop at Cherbourg [known to us now] to get a SIM for our little mobile internet device- then we’re set. And we belt down our well known route, past Avranches, Mont Saint Michel etc until we arrive at Saint Brice en Cogles, a small town with a wonderful aire that we know very well having used it for years. There is always a new addition, an extension or an improvement to this free parking area with all services, in front of a cemetery and next to the police station! And we’ve a handful of French motorhomes for company.

The weather is too lovely to start cooking so we wander into the little town to find a bar- not easy this evening when most places seem closed. But the trusty PMU is open- although it’s not obvious- and busy with locals, so we can find a table and enjoy a beer- or two. Then it’s back to the van for dinner.

In the morning there are the usual chores- emptying, filling with water, ditching trash [taking great care over the recycling- the French are very particular in providing a range of bins] and we’re off again, heading south. And on to Vannes, Brittany, on the Gulf of Morbihan, to a site we’ve stayed at before- one of a chain of sites. Site chains are becoming increasingly common now. They can be more expensive than smaller, independent sites, but this one- part of the daftly named ‘Flower Campings’ conglomerate, is not too pricey, is convenient and offers all we need.

The skies over Vannes are blue, the temperature heating up and we’re here for a few days. We’ll take another look at the city of Vannes, which we can walk to along a very pleasant footpath and we can also relax in some much needed sun.

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com