So Covid and Brexit come along, making it a perfect storm for travellers, so what did we do – we travelled:

We let the neighbours know :

Its been a manic week! Having got back from Blanche’s birthday in Sorrento on Sunday, we let number 8 for a year on Tuesday and have been frantically packing up. Our logic is to get across the channel before any further lockdowns, so we are leaving Tuesday late for an early morning crossing. Steve moved in 10 years and a day ago, Blanche 7 years ago, and we’re leaving with lovely memories of a close knit community which we shall miss, and always call home. Lately of course it’s been a strange time, and will continue to be for some time yet we feel. We have enjoyed the company, involvement and participation of our neighbours in whatever we’ve dreamt up, Blanches Bar, VE day, Henry VIII, cinemas, Professor Eek and co, etc and we take so many memories with us, they just about fit in our 14m2 home for the next 12 months. We thank our neighbours for their shopping on our behalf, singing, sharing and borrowing, bins, binging and banging for NHS, and all the positives that lockdown brought. Gail is moving into number 8, supported by her two sons and I’m sure she’ll get a good Salamanca welcome.

After our nightime dockside sleep we boarded the “Normandie” for some breakfast and a smooth crossing to Caen. Steve had always wanted to visit Mont St Michel, so we headed off in that direction. We arrived at Camping Selune (its the name of the river which runs through the village) and booked in with “Chatty Dave”. After two days we knew all about Chatty Dave, how much it costs to mow the campsite (4 Euro), how he’d been there 27 years, how he got there, how his children were doing, how bad a year it was and how he has an opinion on everything. We unfortunately were his only guest so we got his undivided attention.

We spent the first day chilling, with the three “C”‘s of Normandy, Cidre, Calvados and Camembert. The second we visited MSM, only 15km away, and you walk the last 3km! MSM lived up to all our expectations, it’s just so impressive, rising up from the estuary. With Covid, places are virtually empty, one of the advantages. Anyway two days in, 126k driven and time to move South before lockdowns begin to affect us.

After a few hours driving 263 km We ended up at La Roche sur Yon, in the Vendee, a lovely deserted campsite, (Campilo) with a fishing lake. Although it was tempting to drive on a Sunday (no lorries on French roads) it was also tempting to fish. So Steve did. he was rewarded by a 17.5 lb carp, a bit of a tan, and a glass or three of Pineau des Charantes, to celebrate the first French Carp of the year.

Monday it was on the move with Bordeaux wine the target, and it was achieved 253 Km later. A Haut Medoc, went down lovely, the first night, the second day it was a little drizzly, so we topped up on shopping , and prepared for the Boarder crossing to come tomorrow. Stella is settling down to the new routines, she doesn’t look too impressed yet, but at least she’s getting regular walks, and new experiences and smells to keep her interest up. Campsite (Village du Lac ) is lovely, think CentreParks, but again virtually deserted except for the odd motorhome passing through.

Tuesday it was a shopping for the landing net handle – don’t ask – can’t think why it got left behind ! – and Wednesday shopping for less important things like food and bleach. France seems relatively safe, everyone is wearing masks, it is a mainly outdoors lifestyle for us, and we feel that we have made the right decision. As we prepare to set off, we hear that Vendee is locking down. We also hear that Rioja and Navarra in Spain are locking down, so get on our way before the Baccus spell entices us to linger in the region.

I’m reading my first book in some time, it’s called “Rewilding yourself” and is targeted at those like myself who like nature, but have maybe become a little urbanised. It is a fascinating book, and points out techniques and things to look for, tracks to follow, and even trousers to sit in. The most fascinating to me was the chapter on animal Poo. I have many times been in the garden and picked up some smaller turds from the lawn, knowing it was not Stella’s, blaming local cats, maybe Malcolm’s dog, who roams a little freer than Stella. Thanks to this inciteful book I have now identified the producer of these turds and can proudly say that I can now identify Hedgehog Poo. This will be a useful skill as we travel around. The humble hedgehog is more common in France, Stella finds many on her nightfall walk. It’s a familiar routine, Stella runs at full pelt at the “Herissonne” Mme. Herisonne rolls into a ball, Stella stares at the ball, and after a few minutes of standoff, the Herisonne uncurls, yawns and wanders off leaving Stella to find another one. For those not as educated in Hedgehog poo as I am now , I have copied the description from my literary discovery,

“.. about the size of your little finger, maybe black and shiny, and not too horribly stinky, it may be rounded at each end rather than tapered…tease the thing open with a twig, and you will probably find lost of bits of shiny little bits of insect “

So now you know.

We arrived in Zaratuz, which is a hilltop campsite, full of surfers, who dressed in wetsuits take their surfboards , down a treacherous path to the bay. As far as I can see it involves lots of bobbing around in that wet suit, some short burst paddling to get on-top of a wave, then occasionally being able to stand on the surfboard for some 10 seconds or so , before being catapulted into said wave. This process is repeated many times, but I don’t think it’s for me.

Lockdowns were coming in on the facebook radar thick and fast , horror stories of boarders being closed. We had not seen any evidence of this, but knowing how persuasive the Policia could seem, especially with holstered guns we made a run for it. Three days of pretty intense driving 300k, 400k and 450k , followed, which are not easy days in the Poacher. I can just about stand when I get out, the 200tdi diesel engine pulls like a slow train, conversation is virtually impossible, concentration for lorries overtaking is constant, and persistent noise draughts and leaks relentlessly wear the body down. However, I would not have it any other way

Sunday afternoon, and just in advance of the wave of lockdowns following us, we have bobbed around, paddled like mad, and are now standing up in our first planned stop – Camping Cabopino, Marbella, where we have pitched up for our winter stay.

A few days later and we did eventually get locked down ! But a curfew from 10pm to 7am, and no crossing of any county lines (we’re in Marbella region) will only have a minimal effect on us. More majorly, non essential shops and bars will close at 6, but again with a bit of planning happy to take that. We can think of worse places to get locked down in.