We had delayed our return across France by a few days to avoid the worst of the much hotter weather of the interior and west coast, but it was still a toasty 35c+ as we headed off from Argelès, with a rough plan to get as far as Foix that evening.
This route is beautiful, taking us through the Parcs Naturels of the Pyrénées Catalanes, the Corbières-Fenouillèdes, and the Pyrénées Ariégeoises. But first, after a shopping adventure in Perpignan for some favourite southern delights, including the Banyuls mentioned in the last entry and some more Brillat-Savarin cheese; another new favourite this trip, we headed to the small village of Maury, where (courtesy of Mr B) we somewhat fortuitously pretentiously have an account at the local wine cooperative, Les Vignerons de Maury.
Arriving during their lunch break (closed for an hour) we were super pleased to discover that since our last visit, the local municipality had opened an Aire on the edge of town, conveniently only a five minute walk away! It’s free to stop, has the usual facilities and it would have been perfect for us had we not decided that we wanted to get to Foix – but worth noting for future visits! The views are pretty spectacular…
...and after we had lunched in the very welcome shade of one of the pine
trees that line both sides of the Aire, we deployed our beach/toilet cassette/wine trolley, just in case…
...which was just as well…
...as we hadn’t remembered they also did a very tasty rosé, as well as their fabulous reds!
Our original plan, pre-canicule, had been to explore a bit of the Cathar country, maybe visit one of the hill-top castles we’d not yet been to – but now, as time was more limited, we had to make do with glimpsing the occasional castle precariously perched atop one of the very steep hills that line the route to Foix…
The drive was great fun (for Mr B) with twisty roads climbing up the many cols that lined our route, with equally twisty descents the other side! Less fun, was the air temperature which soared to 42c outside, leaving us hot and sweaty in the non-air conditioned cab at a balmy 36c! Even Evie found the going hot, as her temperature gauge rose very, very close to the point at which the turbo cooler fan (which masquerades as a passing hovercraft it’s so noisy) would activate. Luckily, we were spared the fan, which we only remember ever hearing activate twice; when we went up, and down Mount Etna on Sicily and, more recently, crossing Andorra.
But, as we arrived in the village at the bottom of our penultimate descent before the mainly flat final section to Foix, our luck ran out when we heard a loud ‘clonk’ noise from the back of the van… Checking in the rear view mirrors to make sure no bits had fallen off Evie, Mr B guessed (based on previous adventures), and upon seeing the ABS light activate on the dashboard, that it was likely a failed handbrake shoe or binding disc, and we were very grateful that we didn’t have much further to go to get to Foix…
We have stayed on this site, Camping du Lac, before, but this was a first in hot sunny weather, so we promised ourselves once we had pitched up, we would have a dip in the pool before having a more detailed look at Evie…
The pool was just what we needed, and once we had cooled off, we went back to Evie to have a look at what had made the awful noise. It was the smell of burning which drew us to the driver’s side rear wheels, where we discovered what looked like melting wheel arch underseal dripping onto the tyres. Whatever had happened was certainly generating some heat! Evie had made the journey since the clonk with no real additional noise, and the brakes had not lost fluid, but did seem to be not quite so efficient, meaning that it was unlikely the handbrake shoe was at fault, so maybe it was a binding disc…
Our onward journey to see Chris and Sue in Salies-de-Béarn was uneventful, if a little tense, given we knew something was not quite right, but Evie seemed to be none the worse for wear. So we took it nice and gently…
...arriving in Salies later that afternoon, where we took no time at all to accept the offer of a cooling dip in Chris and Sue’s pool – perfect! After a great evening of lovely food and drink and catching up with one another, the morning came all too quickly and with it, the final stage of our journey, where we planned to fit in maybe a night or two at the coast.
Before we left, Mr B decided it might be prudent to check the oil level in the diff, as we have a replacement axle after failed bearings destroyed the original one, and this one has a slight leak at the prop shaft… It was as he was gathering his tools up to get under Evie that he had another look at the ‘melting underseal’… which, on closer inspection, was very obviously oil that had been sprayed all over the wheel arch, and was dripping back down – uh-oh!
Luckily, there was still plenty of oil in the diff, but we had clearly lost some – about 200ml as it turned out when Mr B refilled it to the fill level. So now, it looked as if we might be dealing with a blown seal between the hub and the half shaft – eek!
Whatever it was, we decided we would call our local mechanic who keeps Evie on the road and ask for advice. Pete (the P in the excellent D&P motors in Brighton) listened to our story and suggested in no uncertain terms that we should get to a nearby garage, as we didn’t want to damage another axle, did we…
With a sense of déjà-vu (the last time we had visited Chris and Sue we had needed to drop into a nearby garage to investigate an odd noise from the original axle) we set off, after bidding fond farewells…
...to get to the same town, Dax, and find a stopover for the night, planning to get to the garage at opening time the next day (Monday). Fortuitously, Dax has an Aire, and although it’s pretty basic…
...it’s free, convenient for the city plus an easy ten minute drive to the garage, so in our time of need, perfect!
We had time to have a stroll around some of Dax, which was much more interesting than we anticipated, with an active bull ring and regular ferias, reflecting the shared history with nearby Spain…
With the sky threatening our first rain in weeks, we headed back to the Aire, where we had been joined by a proper Iveco campervan…
...owned by a French couple who were touring full time with their son, taking a brief stop in Dax before heading to Spain and then Morocco…
The rain, when it came, was brief, but just long enough for Mr B to put his swim shorts on and empty our chemical toilet, ditch the grey water, and top up with drinking water – all whilst having a refreshing shower!
Waking to our 0630 alarm – we wanted to have time for breakfast, tidy all the habitation stuff away and get Evie ready to arrive at the garage by about 0730, in plenty of time before it opened at 0800) – we decided that having had Mrs B at the wheel for the journey from Salies to Dax, as she is easily the gentler driver, that Mr B could do the final leg – and take note of any new noises/issues to report. And hopefully, not all in French, as last time we had visited this garage, we were helped by a very friendly guy who had spent a year in Australia, meaning his English was way better than Mr B’s French!
The drive to the garage didn’t produce any new issues, and when we arrived just after 0730 it was already open – hurrah! Pulling up in the yard outside the workshop just in case there was going to be a rush of early morning chancers like us, Mr B practised his French explanation of what had happened, secretly hoping the year-in-Aus guy was still there…
On seeing Mr B silently mouthing his explanatory French phrases, the workshop manager kindly came out from the back office to see what we wanted. He wasn’t the same guy we had seen before, but, with a command of English about the same as Mr B’s French, he eventually decided he would fit us in when the mechanics arrived at 0800, and we could wait in the small reception area if we liked.
Feeling very grateful that we were being seen to straight away, we settled down for an anxious wait. We could see Evie being driven in via an inspection window that let onto the workshop area. From where we could also hear the whirring of the compressed airgun taking the nuts off the wheels, followed by a long, long period of massively loud whacking-on-metal noises, followed by short periods of silence...followed by the reappearance of the workshop manager, Anthony, with a face that clearly signalled all was not well...yikes!
S&J 18.08.26
