Adventure before dementia – the Canal du Midi

Ever since we watched Prunella Scales and Timothy West barge (sometimes literally!) their way along parts of this famous French canal, with plenty of pause for thought as we observed how they dealt with Pru’s dementia, we’d been determined to give it more than our customary sideways glance as we travelled along a road that ran near it over our years of travelling in France.

 

And now, here we were, within almost spitting distance of its final stretch before it enters the Med near Cap d’Agde – how could we not make an effort to go and have a look, and explore the tow path?

We decided to make an initial exploratory stab at working out how best to get to it from the campsite, as there was no agreement between Google Maps, the advice at reception, and a cycle tour map we had picked up en route. This was not perhaps one of our more successful trips by bike, as the most direct route to access the tow path involved what could only be described as some challenging off-road dirt tracks that tested our little folding bikes (and Mrs B’s patience) to the full, as Mr B had asserted (we never did find out on what basis) that it would be an easy cycle path, surely…

So although we did find an access point near the town of Portiragnes, the unplanned mountain bike section and the thunder and lighting with belts of heavy rain on our way back to the van somehow took the edge off our first foray! Still, we now knew we could get to and from the Canal in about 30 minutes, leaving us with a decision to make about whether we should head west to Béziers, or east to the Med… Either way, our visit to the lock and bridge at Portiragnes had whetted our appetite, so long as we could pick some more reliable weather and avoid that off road section…

Once we had reviewed the weather heading our way, and the ramping up of the temperatures closer to those of the Middle East than the Med, we decided that the longer we left it, the hotter and more challenging the ride would be. Which is why, just a couple of days after our initial exploratory ride, we were mounting up once more and heading off (on the non-off-road route) towards Béziers, having decided that the ‘9 locks of Béziers’ (compared to the Caen Hill locks of Devizes) would be an interesting visit for our first adventure along the towpath.

This canal really is something! Linking the Atlantic and the Med (with a bit of help from the Garonne river near Toulouse) it runs for about 240km end-to-end. Started in 1667 and finished in 1681 it is famous, amongst other things, for having almost 100 locks, 130 bridges and being lined with shade-giving plane trees along its banks. Unfortunately, as we discovered, many trees have been cut down to manage a wilt infection and although there is a replanting scheme that has been underway since the disease was discovered in 2006, there were many sections on the short stretch we rode that have nothing more than some very large but shade-free stumps lining the banks.

The ride provided plenty to look at with some very different boats than those we might see on a British canal; 

A floating tourist office;

A cunning rising bridge that could be lowered to allow trucks from a massive pump factory to cross the canal; 

An impressive aquaduct that carries the canal over the river Orb at Béziers;

Some amazing canal-side buildings;

And of course the 9 locks;

And although it turned out that there were only 7 locks (since the aquaduct had made two of them superfluous) they were indeed impressive, with the very deep lock chambers emptying and filling at a rate of knots, aided no doubt by the very efficient electro-hydraulic system operated remotely by the single lock keeper!

We knew there was a café/restaurant at the locks and we had decided when we paused to rest at the tourist office at Villeneuve-lès-Béziers, that we would ride on and eat a bit later than we had planned. Not one of our better decisions that, as the café/restaurant was one of those over-priced and underwhelming places that can crop up when there’s nowhere else for miles.

And so, saving a visit to the nearby failed ‘water slope machine’ (where French engineering prowess of the 1980s was thwarted by gravity and the giant tractor unit was unable to push barges up a 5% incline)…

…we decided to track back to Villeneuve-lès-Béziers for a late lunch. Except, it’s France and yet again we had forgotten that in the south, between 2.00 and 5.00 nothing much moves, or is open (except, oddly, a pharmacy!) and so we made the return trip with rumbling tums and amazement at our own forgetfulness! Luckily, we were fine for water as the canal has a number of fresh water taps dotted along the path and so, hydrated but starving, we got back to the campsite in time to get a fresh baguette from the second daily bake, and we collapsed into a well deserved late lunch or early dinner!

At 25 miles the trip was a proper adventure and although a bit further than Mrs B had anticipated, not enough to deter her from subsequent folding-bike adventures! Given that almost all the other bikes that passed us were full-size wheels, and most of those electrically assisted as well, we felt pretty chuffed to have managed it, especially as the temperature only got to 34 degrees!

It was a great day out and with so much more of its length to explore, we started to kick around the idea of maybe one day finding a secure park up and hiring a small boat for a few days on a subsequent trip. You never know…

S&J

Sérignan – Part One

The drive onwards to Sérignan Plage and our much discussed, long awaited meet-up with our good friends Dave and Jan was short and blissfully straightforward – largely as we pushed the boat out and bought ourselves a 21km stretch of Autoroute that cut out all the little towns and villages that would have been lovely to look at, but tortuously slow to navigate. And at €2.50 for the privilege, what’s not to like!

Based on our recent experiences of ACSI sites operating at full capacity, or with only last-ditch pitches available, we were a tad apprehensive as we turned south off the road that had skirted the Canal du Midi and we entered familiar territory from 2016, when we had stayed on a full-on pimp-my-pitch site that was on full ACSI discount – just for the year we found it! Our choice this year was unknown to us, but was the only site on this gorgeous stretch of beach with the same deal, and so we found ourselves at the reception of Beauséjour and, with a large Pass’Etapes aire opposite, we were feeling fairly relaxed that if not here, we’d have somewhere to stay at least. (The aire was one of the biggest we have seen so far, big enough to accommodate one of the biggest camper outfits we have seen on this trip too!)

The receptionist was most bemused by the look on Mr B’s face as he was told that we had a choice of four pitches. And his joy was increased as we walked around and saw that the vast majority of our fellow campers were French – what a treat! Mrs B suggested that we drove the camper onto the first of the four pitches that took our fancy and then walked to look at the rest. An excellent call this, as we have found from experience, that it’s much easier by foot to get straight to the vacant pitches to assess them, and when (as it was with us) other campers were also hunting down their ‘ideal’ emplacement, at least we would know that we could claim squatters rights on one! As it turned out, Mrs B had nailed the best one of the four straight off – and, after we had taken a good few turns around the site over the length of our stay, probably one of the best on the site for our needs!

With Dave and Jan on the site right next door, we had just enough time to pitch up, get straight, and we were round at theirs for an evening of fun and frivolity – once we had handed over some ID and been issued with mandatory wrist bands that is – something we remembered from our stay in 2016! With so many attractions and facilities on the site, security was super-efficient!

As with many of our friendships these days, we may not meet up for some time, but the years that may have passed are held fast by a thread that holds firm over the passage of time – and its an easy process of relaxing back into where we might have left off last time.

The next day saw all four of us heading off on our trusty folding steeds to the nearby town of Sérignan where we were planning to have lunch. It’s a pleasant 30 minute ride along the cycle path north (with some fabulous painted agricultural buildings) and then across the (new to us) bike and pedestrian only bridge, directly letting on to the tree covered central square, bounded on two sides by a good range of restaurants and cafés. And it was just as well there were so many eateries, as, although we had allowed for the fact that the French like to eat early, our arrival at midday was just in time, as we had completely overlooked that it was Fathers’ day!

Relaxing under the broad and protective canopy of the magnificent plane trees that give shade to the square, we easily whiled away the time over a lovely lunch of local delights, with just enough wine to be on the right side of a 30 minute cycle back to the vans!

With Dave and Jan coming round to ours for food that night, we had a laugh at the different levels of security on our site, where the process of signing us in, a uniformed guard to claim our ID back from, and those mandatory wrist bands, was replaced by a nod from a relaxed, and very hench guy lounging on one of the site’s electric golf carts, exuding a charm that you just knew would be replaced by the tough stuff if you were to cross him!

Picking up from where we had left off at lunchtime with our reminiscences and plans for future travel, another pleasant evening whizzed by before Dave and Jan had to walk back to their site so we could all observe the 23:00 noise curfew on each site…

With only one day left before it was time to say goodbye to our chums as they made their way back through France to Belgium and their ferry home, we took advantage of their final shop by car at a nearby hyper-market to get some provisions, without having to cycle for them, as we might subsequently need to if we didn’t want to move the van, and we organised a farewell BBQ at ours. This was the first site of the trip where we had been allowed to have an old school charcoal BBQ, so it seemed crazy not to, with the evening ending without any incendiary incidents and peppered with promises we hope we can all keep, to meet up again with hopefully less time elapsing!

With our friends heading north and us having only just arrived at the coast, we kicked back and decided we’d just take the days as they came and see how long we wanted to stay down south and enjoy the sun, sea and the miles of marvellous beach …

S&J

The not Calanques and an inland beach and lagoon…

The drive from the bucolic beauty of rural Provence led us steadily back towards the industrial sprawl of Marseille. We’d skirted the city en route over to Aix and were uncertain about the likelihood of a coastal strip adjacent to major shipping lanes delivering on the beauty of the actual Calanques we had thought we were heading for. Undeterred by the petrochemical refineries and their gas flares that we could see out of the driver’s side window, we kept to a strict ‘eyes left’ policy and admired instead the undulating and forested landscape that led us down to the coast itself – at last!

We could tell by the very large and recently built access road that had been carved out of the hills to give easy access to the string of resorts along the coast, that we were visiting the playground of the Marseillais. The densely packed but stylish and low rise holiday settlements that started to hug the coastline reminded us of other resort areas we had visited in France, many of which we had surprised ourselves and enjoyed!

And as we turned off the super-highway to La Couronne where our hopefully idyllic not-quite-the-calanques campsite awaited, the houses gave way to a string of campsites along the coastline. Spotting an encouraging ACSI flag outside a campsite that was not our first choice, we pulled in to Camping Pascalounet to see a note in the closed reception window – oh no – ‘Complet’… and just in case that wasn’t clear, FULL in block letters underneath. Disheartened that we wouldn’t get to sample the little piece of paradise that had been so beguilingly conveyed to us in their site description, we took heart in that ACSI flag blowing gently in the breeze just down the road.

Parking up alongside what could be plan ‘C’ – a Pass’Étapes Aire opposite the tanatalisingly close but out of reach Pascalounet, we went into the open reception office of the ACSI flag bearing campsite to find out about vacancies and costs. Knowing that a pitch would be a bit more than an ACSI ‘camping card’ discounted one, but usually with at least a bit of discount, we were underwhelmed to be offered just one choice in a parched and scruffy plot that shared boundaries with the road, a rubbish point, and what could only be described as some sort of ‘work in progress’ area – for €30 plus tax!

At that point, the Aire across the road looked decidedly attractive – and we had said we wanted to try out one of the new-to-us network of Pass’Étapes Aires, hadn’t we... At €13 a night with electric and free WiFi, water and waste disposal, we decided to give it a try for a night – especially as it shared the exact same beach as the campsites!

These Aires are unlike any we have stayed on previously, in that although they vary in their initial attractiveness (this one with no shade and the one in Nantes in a lovely wooded lane, for example) they all give a minimum demarcated pitch size, have free WiFi, drinking water and waste disposal and many, like the one here at La Saulce, electric hook-up too. With a maximum of 9 vans allowed at any one time at this particular Aire, we decided that although it might just get cosy, it wouldn’t be anything like some of the cheek-by-jowl regular Aires we have stopped at!

Entry is by a ‘smart barrier’ that reads how much credit you have on the mandatory PE card (€4 for life and printed while you wait!) which then won’t let you out until you have loaded enough pre-payment to raise the barrier on departure. We also discovered that although you can just turn up and, if the barrier lets you in, you can stay for up to three nights, you can also pre-book a pitch at least 48hours in advance. So if you turned up and liked a place, you could immediately pre-book from night 4 if there are vacancies. And we were super-impressed with their ‘live’ website that gives an indication of the vacancy level at each Aire – very clever!

The electric hook-up clinched it for us, as it was the only way we could guarantee a hot indoor shower each day, as our over-priced and unreliable diesel heater that would normally be pressed into service, had given up the ghost before we left the UK. (The option of our outdoor solar bag showers between the back doors of the van would probably not be condoned by Pass’Étapes – nor the people passing along the adjacent road!)

And the beach and coastline of the not-calanques turned out to be very pleasant indeed, reminiscent of a number of Atlantic beaches we’ve visited in northern Spain or even Cornwall.

We stayed for two nights (quiet and peaceful) and with the temperature in the mid 20s, suffered no real hardships for the absence of shade. And the WiFi was the fastest and most reliable we have encountered on any campsite – no doubt helped by that maximum of 9 campervans! We could have stayed a further night with the weather set fair and more exploring to do, but we wanted to pace our trip west to meet up with Dave and Jan near Béziers, so we could arrive in Sérignan early enough to stand a chance of getting a pitch on a site near them. We had discovered (and were reminded of our trip to Croatia when we encountered a similar high occupancy period) that we had hit the two week period in June, when many of the southern German states have a two week Pentecost holiday – something to remember on subsequent trips!

With this in mind we opted for an inland and quirky looking site in Fabrègues, given that the vast majority of the German campers we had encountered in this holiday period were young families who tended to favour coastal resorts. Even the sudden rainstorm en route didn’t dampen our enthusiasm for a ‘proper’ campsite stop, and we took the equally sudden clearing of the skies as we turned into camping Le Botanic as a good omen…

Never assume they say, and we shouldn’t have, as although we’d called the probable absence of young German families right, they had simply been replaced by equally large numbers of older (like us) Dutch couples, with, we soon discovered at reception, a large and loyal following of repeat customers at this site! That’s the thing about camping on the hoof, there’s always someone else on holiday! Listening in as the Dutch couple in front of him were being turned away as yup – you guessed – this site was also ‘complet’, Mr B turned on his best cod-gallic schoolboy French charm and asked whether there might not, perhaps, may be a teeny-tiny pitch for a campervan for only one night? Suddenly we (and the Dutch couple) were offered a place in the adjacent field – with hook-up and use of all facilities for the ACSI price – woohoo!

With temperatures rising now the sun had shown itself, we quickly pitched-up and headed off to explore the site and its ‘lagoon’. We soon worked out why the site was so popular, with well shaded and thoughtfully planted pitches, a very tasteful amenity block accessed over two small waterways, and, of course, that lagoon, complete with sandy beach and palm trees…

. . . and with a small bar/resto and swimming pool on site as well. Even though Le Botanic wouldn’t have tempted us for much more than one or two nights, we could see why its quirky charm had generated such a fan club! And we had the added bonus of our Scottish registration plate starting a conversation from a lovely German couple who had visited more of Scotland than we had. Undeterred by the fact that we weren’t actually Scottish, and intrigued by our reason for adopting a Scottish flagged plate as a response to the 2016 Brexit vote, we were amazed to discover that the woman had been born and raised in Mönchengladbach, where Mr B’s brother was born and he had lived for a brief period in the early 60s!

By the time we had swum and settled down for supper, Mr B’s view that it was his intervention at reception that had engineered our overnight stop was a little compromised by the half dozen or so other campervans that had found their way to the field! We figured in the end it was probably no more than making a clear distinction that there were no ‘camping’ pitches available as per expectations of an ACSI site, but that there was this overflow ‘aire’ if people were desperate enough!

And so with mounting excitement at seeing our friends Dave and Jan, but with some trepidation about occupancy levels at campsites, we set off for the relatively short hop over to Sérignan Plage…

S&J

To the Mediterranean coast – at last – surely?

 Waking to a clear blue sky (probably thanks to the Mistral still blowing too forcefully for any clouds to have the time to materialise) we decided to swerve the dubious delights of the Camargue and see where we could get to in Provence. Unsure whether we would head straight to the Calanques, or maybe stop off somewhere beforehand, our modus operandi for this trip got the better of us and we decided to have an explore in western Provence first, perhaps visiting Aix-en-Provence itself after a good few years of rolling past and saying we must!

Spoilt for choice of ACSI sites in the area, Mrs B picked one that was a bus ride from Aix, to allow us time to research how long we might need and what we would want to go and see. Tipped off by our good friends Dave and Jan (who we were planning to meet in a week or so further down the coast towards Béziers) that we might be up against a busy period because of the Pentecost holiday weekend, we pulled in to Le Devançon in the small town of Peynier and nabbed a very quiet and shady pitch. This site is an attractive and small family run one, with a lot of attention to detail on the styling, with upcycled furniture in the bar, and a complete avoidance of the ‘serried ranks’ approach some sites have to laying out their pitches.

Our ‘research’ ended up being augmented with a fair amount of chilling and before long we had developed a routine of enjoying a morning walk into the picture perfect village for shopping, meandering in the adjacent woods, lounging by the pool and generally taking our time to decide what next. It’s a strange thing this rapid acclimatization to a new ‘home’ – doesn’t always happen but if the vibe is right, we find ourselves very quickly feeling comfortable and settling into routines as if we’d been there for weeks!

It was just as well we had chilled though, as first on our list of things to do in Aix was the Nazi/Vichy transit facility at Camp des Milles on the outskirts of the city. Mrs B had spotted this in some of her interweb research (our recent Rough Guide, published in 2016 must have been compiled before it opened in 2012). It seems fair to say that by and large the southern French swerve their complicity in the establishment and running of the Vichy regime; something Camp des Milles is clearly keen to rectify.

We decided to drive to the Camp first thing after leaving Peynier, on the basis that it being France and an established tourist destination, there would be lots of campervan friendly parking, and then we could head over to the eastern side of Aix to a different (closer to Aix) campsite overlooked by the heights of Mt St Victoire.

We made our way to the Camp on the south west of Aix by using GoogleMaps to navigate the final few kilometres, since there seemed to be a surprising lack of signage. Anyone that’s used this App will know that it’s easy to be lulled into a false sense of security, as it’s generally reliable (particularly for walking or bikes) – but in a 7m camper sometimes a little sketchy – as it proved to be on this occasion! Trying to get us to drive down what looked like dirt access tracks to nearby allotments, we declined its suggested route and made our way back to a main road to start again. Before long we could see the Parking sign opposite the Camp but as we were about to turn in, just spotted a height barrier… and the same thing at the adjacent public car park… Undeterred and convinced there must be campervan friendly parking nearby – after all there’s always motorhome parking here in France – isn’t there? – Mr B leapt out and nipped into the reception/entrance to the Camp to find out where.

Returning with what could only be described as a failed attempt to hide his incredulity, Mr B reported back that there was no such parking and that we would have to find nearby on-street options – sacré bleu! Located in what was, and still is in parts, a large industrial area, we were lucky to find a space a short walk away and just off the main road. We were also struck by the explanation by staff for the absence of parking for camping cars (and the surprisingly small car park for visitors to the Camp). Apparently there was an ongoing dispute with the local authorities about access to land that had initially been set aside for parking following a change of political leadership…

Ever conscious about security when we leave the van unattended, we were more than a little perplexed to see half a dozen fully armed soldiers patrolling and then getting into two unmarked cars… It was only when we looked more closely that we saw a small sticker across the bottom of the rear window, stating ‘Mision Vigipirate’ that we felt marginally more relaxed but no clearer what was going on! And it was only later when we had chance to look on the interweb that we discovered that ‘Plan Vigipirate’ is France’s national security alert system that has been in place since 1978! The current level of high alert since the Strasbourg shootings in 2018 is probably why we saw armed soldiers on patrol, but what exactly they were doing near the Camp des Milles remained unclear.

Until that is, we attempted to get in! With entrance to the camp through what could only be described as a separate ‘perimeter’ guardhouse, with full body scanners and turnstiles not out of place in an airport – or prison, we figured that the potential high risk of attack from the Right/Nationalists etc. might explain the levels of security.

Having cleared the guardhouse, we then had a sobering walk towards the actual entrance, with the large ex-tile factory looming ahead in an entirely intimidating way, even though it was bathed in glorious sunshine. We found it impossible not to admire the persistence of the founders and their supporters in gaining permission to open and run something the French state, let alone the region, is not renowned for dealing with. In a nutshell, well before the Nazis occupied the south, local French Vichy officials were complicit in (and sometimes, as we found out, enthusiastically supporting and promoting) the Nazi genocide programme.

The exhibition itself packs a truly visceral punch, combining individual stories of resistance and heroism alongside harrowing accounts of the brutality of the genocide programme. Fascinatingly, it also includes a psychological evaluation at the end that explores what it is that makes some individuals resist, and others capitulate. Unfortunately, whilst the rest of the exhibition includes translations in English, this section doesn’t, although the really excellent 180 degree film at the end can be followed with a smattering of French. The film also highlights genocides more recent than the Nazi atrocities as a sobering reminder of a persistently dark and evil side of human nature.

We discovered that the Camp was unusual, in that it initially, between 1939 and 1940, housed around 3,500 artists and intellectuals, many of them German and Austrian, including Max Ernst, who had fled to France as a safe haven from the Nazis in the 1930s, only to be rounded up before the French surrender/armistice as ‘aliens’ at the start of WW2, and then subsequently detained under the Vichy as undesirables. Many of them were allowed to emigrate, mainly to the USA, following a lengthy application process and often with some outside ‘help’ from those of influence. Some of the original artwork can be found in the exhibition, as well as on the walls of various parts of the factory that the detainees were held in.

Between 1941-42 Les Milles was used as an internment and transit camp for Jews, mainly men, initially awaiting visas to emigrate. As emigration became impossible, the Camp became a centre of ‘rassemblement’ before deportation to the death camps of Auschwitz and Dachau. And it was this period that saw local Vichy officials offering of their own volition to send Jewish children as young as two to the camps, without being requested to by the Nazis…

We spent three and a half hours in the Camp (with only 23 other people over the whole day, we discovered) and could have spent longer.

Notwithstanding the parking challenges (extra odd when we also learnt that the Camp is a UNSECO headquarters for its Chair of Education for Citizenship, Human Sciences and Shared Memories), if you are ever anywhere near Aix, we’d thoroughly recommend it from both a historical and contemporary perspective.

Each visit finishes with an outdoor walk along a series of ‘memory’ boards that tell the tales of all types of people who had a connection with the camp, ending on a sober note with a single train wagon of the type that was used to transport detainees away to further camps and ultimately their extermination.  And on the side, the stencil sign that reads 8 horses or 40 people says it all…

The drive across the beautiful countryside east of Provence towards Mt St Victoire was as therapeutic as anyone could have wished for. And as we turned into the site in Beaurecueil with the mountain of Sainte Victoire in the near distance, we felt ready for a contemplative rest as we planned our visit to Aix itself.

We knew the site (Camping Sainte Victoire) was small and we should have expected that being near to Aix it would be busy – so we were lucky indeed to get one of only two remaining pitches in the late afternoon of our arrival.

We were not so lucky with the weather though, and just as one of Mr B’s holiday specials was being served up outside, the skies darkened and rain began to fall. With the speedy precision of a well-drilled military team (or so Mr B likes to think!) we had the awning up and over us in double quick time, enjoying our dinner as the heavens opened and the temperature plummeted. Retreating indoors to plan our adventure day in Aix, we kept our fingers crossed for bluer skies the next day…

We clearly should have had more crossed though, as the sunny thirty minute bus ride into Aix (oddly free for reasons we couldn’t understand) terminated in a cloudy and then drizzly day. Undeterred, we soon got our bearings in the old quarter, and decided that the beautiful buildings and shady boulevards would be more enjoyable on a sunny day – so we set off for a special treat for Mrs B – the (indoor) former studio of Cézanne on the north side of the city.

After an interesting walk and slow climb up the hill that used to mark the outskirts of the city in Cézanne’s time (including passing our first ever sighting of an oak processionary moth trap), we joined a small group waiting for the next timed session.

The studio, as you’d expect, is not huge, so group size is limited to about 20 people at a time. Luckily for Mr B (for whom art is not a strong point!) there was a group of American tourists and guide having a special tour. All miked-up and with earphones for each member of the group, the fact that the room was not that big meant Mr B was able to listen in and improve his cultural capital yet again – this time courtesy of the high level of interest in Cezanne amongst Americans. (We subsequently discovered that it was thanks to a group of American art lovers that the studio was saved from property developers in the 60s – thank you USA – not a phrase that often passes Mr B’s lips!)

Eventually we were kicked out to make space for the next group, and as we wandered back through Aix we decided that in the event of being in the area again, we really must re-visit the city and explore it more fully. As it was, those Calanques were calling and we still hadn’t made it to the coast!

The next day (of course!) was bright and sunny but we stuck to our plan to head further east, but to the west of Marseille, to the delights and mystery of the ‘not’ Calanques as we now realised we should call them. With a specific site in mind (small and family run – you get the vibe) we had misread their reference to ‘direct access to the nearby calanques’, to mean ‘The’ Calanques, east of Marseilles! But no, as we were rapidly learning, a calanque is just a rocky cove, and not quite the same as the designated national park we had initially thought we were heading to! Still, it looked interesting enough (and there are no campsites in the actual Calanques!). And so, with excitement mounting at getting to the coast at last, we set off with smiles on our faces…

S&J