Day Twenty Seven

France: St Tropez to
France: L’argentiere

Thursday 31st July


Blogging on the beach

We were up again early, packing Priscilla and heading off to the beach by 10am. Not due at our next destination until the early evening, I was keen to "do" the beach for a morning. Now I’m not really a beach bum, despite telling everyone I’m off to be a beach bum for the summer! I’m not overly keen on the sand and salt water, preferring a river, lake or swimming pool any day. However, I couldn’t come to St Tropez without a swim in the Mediterranean and some posing on the beach, so the scene was set.

Ian headed off down the beach in search of that all over St Tropez tan whilst I settled under my umbrella with my laptop running catching up on the blog writing. It was the most scenic location ever for my blogging. As the waves lapped at my feet, the crystal clear waters of the plage pampelonne glistened in the morning sun, it was divine. I can certainly see now why Ian has such a fondness for the area. The campsite was fabulous, the weather amazing and I was feeling more relaxed and happy that I’d felt in a long time.

It was a while before I splashed my way into the warm waters, having brought to the beach that snorkelling kit I had purchased earlier in the adventure, I had a perfect opportunity for some peering into the cystal waters. Geared up with flippers, mask and snorkel I stumbled into the sea like some over grown frog, before disappearing under water, the flippers making light work of the water. There wasn’t so much too see but I was having fun untill one of the flippers broke and I realised that they had gouged cuts into the tops of my feet. But it didn’t matter I was too happy to care.

Before long it was time to move on to our next destination and we showered back at the campsite before hitting the road again, destination the Ardeche, L’argentiere. Enroute however Maureen had another fight with Priscilla. This time as we pulled onto the motorway, Priscilla was heading in one direction, Maureen in the other and a split second decision meant we headed down the wrong motorway ramp (following Maureens instructions) taking us east instead of west. In the scheme of things, this might not have been so bad, had we not pulled onto a stretch of motorway were the next exit was 30KM away! We grumbled our way eastwards swearing at Maureen, before returning back on our selves west, Maureen complaining back all the way, she shouts at you, “recalculating”. I shouted back “your on you final written warning bitch”!

What caused the next calamity was that by now Priscilla was eager for revenge having had enough of Maureens tricks, how dare Maureen make her work harder in these temperatures. She pulled one of her own tricks on us all, letting me know we were about to run out of fuel, just as I pulled back onto the return 30KM stretch of motorway westwards, her red fuel light flickering on at me! Now, I’d travelled down a mountain on fuel fumes earlier in the adventure, but never a motorway. As we neared the return motorway exit, 30KM back on ourselves Priscilla suddenly laughed, sticking 2 fingers in the air at Maureen and she stopped accelerating, I groaned we’ve run out of fuel, I’ve got no acceleration! Ian eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He stayed as calm as he could muister, but I could see inside he suffering a silent scream. I coasted on over a hill and some dregs of fuel must have sploshed back into the system and I managed to chug to the exit and some how we made it to a fuel station I’ve no idea how as I couldn’t accelerate properly, Priscilla just wouldn’t respond, just plodded on. We both couldn’t believe our luck (and my incompetence at forgetting to re-fuel in St Tropez). Ice creams were in order to chill us down.

On a full tank of fuel and the feminine in fighting behind us, we raced onwards to the Ardeche having lost much time as a result of the cat fighting. It was now a race to get to the next campsite, before closing time. As I hurtled along the final stretch of the route, I spun around corners and flew over the hills, Ian turned a little green around the gills, going very silent, his finger on the electric window button, just in case an emergency vomit was required. We made it to the campsite with five minutes to spare before closing time.

I was back at Domaine Les Ranchisses, I couldn’t help but come back here, I love the campsite, the region, the food, the wine, the people the whole package. J and I had planned the adventures to allow J to fly back into France for another weeks holiday, joining me and Ian in L’argentiere. I received a very warm welcome from the team at the campsite reception, now a familiar face. Before pitching our site, I negotiated with Ian a quick swim in the wellness centre. It was a successful plan, as we cooled off and relaxed after the journey, it was a fulfilling way to immerse ourselfs in the beauty of the location.

We pitched our site (now complete pros) and soon it was beer o’clock, basking in the evening sunshine, surrounded by trees, we chatted to our new neighbours around our site, closing the days adventure over at the Auberge with the three P’s; Pastis, Pizza, and a Pitchet of vin blanc.