Tag Archives: The Gironde

Le Gurp Now and Then

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Enough time has elapsed since we’ve been here in the Gironde for us to have forgotten the way to Le Gurp, so Mrs Garmin has to guide us but the nearer we get the more we recall- villages we’ve cycled to, shops we’ve patronised, bars we’ve had a drink in. Of course, most of this area is sparsely populated and is pine forest- one part that escaped the devastating wildfires of this summer.

Once we’re at the roundabout at the top of the road to the site it’s all very familiar. Not a lot has changed at this site, although it looks as if the shower blocks have had a minor revamp. They are still basic- narrow shower cubicles with little light and nowhere to place anything except the floor.

It isn’t busy. We trundle round to our allocated pitch [they aren’t marked out but we’ll be wanting electricity] and are immediately stopped by a young, breathless German who wants us to go the other side of the road ‘so that he can be with his friends’. I point out that there’s no electric points on the other side and he pipes down. His ‘friends’ appear to be a group of young girls in tents who subsequently hardly seem to register his existence.

Our immediate problem is that the ground is soft sand and we’re very likely to get stuck- not a scenario we relish, although I admit to a little schadenfreude when young Germans car gets stuck. We go to the pitch next door, which is fine and has the advantage of putting more distance between us and the young Germans [who turn out to be a very quiet and trouble-free bunch of girls].

Next we plug in and get no response from the electric point. Hmm…Eventually a man arrives. The site has ‘reverse polarity’ meaning we need a special lead. The man turns it all back on and we’re sorted.

We started coming here when we were still tent camping, more than 20 years ago. There is this, the campsite, then a road over a bridge takes you to a row of cafe/bars,a pizza takeaway, a couple of shops [surf, bakery, small supermarket], a laundry and some eccentric ancient amusement arcade machines. The supermarket is closed for end of season but the bakery is still opening daily and the cafe/bars are still trading. Hooray!

Then there is the beach- a vast, wide expanse of soft white sand where the Atlantic waves roll in, crashing in a riot of foam. To the right the beach goes on and on to the horizon. To the left there are remnants of concrete WW2 defences that are gradually sinking into the sand and have been graffitied, most quite competently, This place is adored by surfers.

The sky is a cloudless blue. Having reminded ourselves of the beach, we turn back and into a bar where we can relax at last with a beer. We’ve stocked up en route and will grab a meal at one of the cafe/bars while here.

Next day. Husband sets off for a bike ride. Tarmac cycle tracks criss-cross the forests everywhere around here and over the years we’ve cycled most of them. Now that we’re here, I begin to miss my bike very much. It’s still too soon after hip surgery for me to cycle. As Husband pedals off, I set off to walk around the site- and this is no mean feat, as it covers a massive area.

As I walk, I’m reminded of some of our experiences here: once with our tent when there was a relentless deluge of rain and we drove across to a village, found a random restaurant and had a wonderful meal, once when a circus arrived and I went to look at the tethered camels and the disconsolate lion slumped behind bars in his prison cage. We’ve done countless cycle rides- to Soulac, a bustling seaside town, to Montalivets, a tiny seaside place nearby and past ‘Euronat’, the largest naturist resort in Europe. Of course, you will encounter naturists on most French beaches and Le Gurp is no exception, but here you will pass by naked cyclists in the woods too- always a vaguely bizarre sight!

It’s fun to see the various rigs and set-ups around the site as I walk- and many hammocks strung between the trees- one serving as a tent, too!

Husband has not returned when I get back and time ticks on past lunch time so I begin to contemplate ringing him…then my phone rings…

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

The Lure of Simple Pleasures

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            We’ve been spending a few days at a favourite site here in South West France. Situated on the Atlantic coast on the peninsula created by The Gironde, Le Gurp nestles in pine woods by a beach that stretches on almost as far as the eye can see, stroked by azure Atlantic rollers crashing on to the sand in frothy crescents.
This camp site is almost entirely visited by German holiday makers, who flock here for the waves, which are perfect for surfing and for its proximity to the beach, which is surveyed by lifesaving personnel and has soft, white sand, a couple of showers and a car park. The proliferation of Germans [and surfers at that] makes for a Boho, hippy atmosphere where strings of bunting, flags, drapes and all manner of camper vehicles abound-like a Mad Max movie.

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           Sites vary as much as hotels do. If your preference is for infinity pools, spas, cocktail bars, beauty salons and karaoke you could have it. If, like us you prefer a beautiful location, a clean, warm, efficient shower, security, space and the basics Le Gurp is the place.
We happened upon it the first summer we travelled to the Gironde with a tent, twenty or so years ago. The site we were on, near to Soulac [having supposedly booked to no avail] was tightly packed with chalets and boasted raucous entertainment each night. During a cycle trip we found Le Gurp beach and site. Could we book? No-it is a municipal site but is vast. There was plenty of space so we moved.
From the site a network of tarmac cycle tracks radiate through the pine forests to tiny, pretty villages like Grayan et l’Hopital and Talais or bustling seaside towns like Montalivets [which has an extensive and boisterous Sunday market] or Soulac-which is touristy but pleasant. On our first visits here we were runners, jogging every morning along the forest tracks in hot sunshine as many continue to do. Later [and older] we took to cycling. On the way to Montalivets by bike you’ll go past the tight brush-work fencing of ‘Euronat’-supposedly Europe’s largest naturist holiday park, although anyone hoping to catch a glimpse of naked tennis or boules-in-the-buff will be disappointed. If you’re bent on spotting unclothed bodies a stroll along the beach in either direction will reveal plenty of devotees-but it’s not a pretty sight!
A short walk [or shorter cycle] over the hillock from the camp site towards the beach takes you past a surf shop, a small supermarket, a newsagents/beach shop, a boulangerie, a launderette and several bars and restaurants-not a massive development but everything, in fact that the average German camper needs or wants.
During the day tiny children play among the pine trees, peddling madly around the tracks on bikes and ganging together to play with sticks and pine cones before being taken to the beach. Here there are no organised activities, there is no pool, nothing but a couple of swings and a climbing frame to amuse them-and so they amuse themselves. Camping is surely the best holiday a child can have?
In these late summer evenings, the sun sets like flames through the pine trees and as twilight descends the site comes alive with twinkly lights from tents and vans. There will be an occasional gentle strum of guitar and groups of al fresco diners will sit up chatting into the night over bottles of wine. You could sit outside with a glass or two or stroll over to one of the beach bars for a late drink. Wonderful.

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