At the Loire, Staying in our Camping Car…

Ancenis, on the majestic Loire, is a new one for us. We managed to exit the camping car park aire at Grandcamp Maisie, travelled a fair distance and arrived at this site on the outskirts after negotiating a plethora of roundabouts.

It’s quite a large site, laid out with mature shrubs and trees and could be magnificent with a little TLC but it’s a little ragged round the edges- the services clean but shabby and a little grounds work needed. It isn’t busy and we can choose where to park. During the day, the weather, despite the overcast sky, has become humid and warm and when the sun comes out it’s hot. We choose a shady pitch.

The night is uncomfortably hot and although we employ our fans, sleep. for me is evasive. We’re here for three nights so we opt to explore Ancenis’ sights in the afternoon. I’d had a short walk from our site along the river path- the Loire itself quite distant across a huge beach. Now we walk along a boulevard, past petanque courts and to the town bridge, where there are a smattering of bars and a handsome chateau. It’s clear that the chateau is the jewel in Ancenis’ crown since although the town has some attractive buildings there’s not a lot else.

I’ve brought a list of a few things we need but nowhere is open on this Saturday afternoon, only a few bars hosting a smattering of customers.

After a cooler night, the following day becomes hotter than ever but since activity is called for, Husband opts to go for a bike ride along the ‘Loire a velo’ cycle path and I set off in the other direction walking. Although the path along by the river is shady, it soon becomes hard work in the heat and the humidity. There’s also little of interest except the river on one side and fields on the other. While I do press on, the heat becomes oppressive and when I arrive at a car park, I decide to call it a day and turn back.

I’m a little relieved to see the site and when I get to the van I collapse on the bench seat inside, grabbing a flannel, wetting it under the tap and draping it over my face. Husband appears a few minutes later, having curtailed his ride for similar reasons. It is just too hot to exercise, the temperature having reached the mid 30s yet again, another mini heatwave.

After cooling ice creams, we take ourselves to the bar for beers then have a late evening meal in the cool outside. ‘It’ll be cooler tomorrow’ Husband, a bit of a weather expert, says. And it is.

We’re on the move again, a dash down the autoroute to Saint Palais sur Mer, overlooking the Gironde river estuary. We stayed there many years ago when we had our first little van, a gorgeous VW with a pop-up roof. I remember the site as a mere field with a few basic services. I recall it being situated across the road from the water but can remember little else. But all is to be revealed… .

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

Nantes at Last

Arthur: the young man in reception’s name tag informs us. He steps around his desk towards us, all other staff being occupied. It’s clear from the outset that we’re not the standard of tourers he’d like to be welcoming to the site, as a curling sneer hovers around his lips.

I begin in my [not too shabby] French. Here I feel compelled to add that plenty of Frenchmen and women have complimented me on my delivery of the language. The exceptions have tended to be young men, like Arthur.

‘Would I prefer him to speak English?’

I capitulate. He casts me a pitying look and tells us that only the most expensive pitches are available. I look at him. Does he assume, then, that we don’t appear as if we can afford it? Husband steps up. We’ll have 2 nights!

In spite of little Arthur, we make our way to the posh pitch- although I’m at pains to see why they’re more expensive. It’s a small patch next to a tiny square of grass with a picnic table. The piece de resistance seems to be the shed type building, to which we have a key. No- this is not a personal bathroom- this is indeed a shed, containing a scruffy, cold water sink, a fridge [useful] and some loungers. I’m not sure whether these will be used given that the pitch is almost entirely shaded- still, we’re not here to lounge around.

Where are we? We’re at Nantes- in a site we’ve attempted to get into before with no success, it being stubbornly ‘complet’, hence the fact that we’re prepared to pay extra for the pitch. Otherwise the site is fine- if pricy and has a bar/cafe of sorts.

We’re on a tram route into the city. We need to work out how to buy tickets, then we’re set. It’s just a question of gauging when we’re at the centre. I have a slight moment of panic when our tram comes, Husband gets on and the door closes- leaving me on the outside, but when I press the door button it opens. All good; I’m not about to be stranded not knowing where to alight in Nantes.

Using the map on the wall, we take a guess at our stop and get off. First impressions are of a huge and imposing city with massive, elegant buildings and wide streets and pavements. Wow!

We’re not so impressed by the portacabin toilets near the cathedral, though. They are in a thoroughly revolting state and unusable. The cathedral is, itself, disappointing, since while the exterior looks wonderful, it is encased in fencing due to needing repairs from a fire. Ho hum…

Nantes has a photogenic chateau with a big wow factor and great views from the top of the walls, which makes up for the cathedral’s parlous state. The chateau contains a museum, but there’s too much to see in Nantes for us to use up the time.

The majestic Loire travels through this city, dividing up for an island, the Ile de Nantes. There’s something thrilling to see on the island, so we head that way and across the footbridge…

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