Our final destinations were in France. So we drove out from Pamplona on a blazing hot morning, through the Pyrenees to the city of Bergerac. I am not quite sure how/why we ended up there, but I think it was a convenient stop off en route to Montbazon which has a splendid castle which we had come across some years earlier, and wanted to revisit.
Our journey into France took us through the Pyrenees, on yet another blazing hot day (we seemed to have time our trip with a massive heatwave in Europe, which was great, but y’know husband, I’d have LOVED a few swimming pools on the way…).
As we travelled through the Pyrenees, we became aware that we were once again straying into Compostella Pilgrimage territory. We stopped off at Ronscevalles, mainly because that’s where Roland of Charlemagne fame met his end at the hands of the Basques in a famous battle in 778. Dave wanted to check it out, natch. As it happened, the Church of Santa María de Orreaga/Roncesvalles where we paused is one of the auberges that pilgrims use taking the French Way to Santiago. So once again, we came across several pilgrims, had a wander round the church, learned more about the pilgrimage, had a bite to eat, and looked in horror at the sign that said Santiago 790km. My appetite for doing the whole thing had waned somewhat dramatically. Especially as we set off down the Ronscevalles Pass (site of aforementioned battle), which was very steep and windy. We saw several doughty pilgrims ploughing their way to the top. Rather them than me…
Arriving at Bergerac, we took ourselves out for a walk on the river. It was still blistering even as the sun was dropping. To my disappointment, although Bergerac has at least one lake suitable for swimming, it wasn’t going to be open till the end of the month. So my hopes of having a cooldown were dashed. Instead we sat by the Dordogne (where alas you also couldn’t swim), drinking warm beer, feeling like we were going to melt. Bergerac itself is quite industrial, so it isn’t the most interesting of places to stay, and I doubt we’d return. However, the small remaining heart of the mediaeval city, is well worth a visit, as are the statues to Cyrano de Bergerac. Overall though, not our favourite place…
The following day, we set off for Montbazon, on yet another scorching day, and this time, to my delight, our destination had a swimming pool. Here we stayed in a family-owned property with an annex with your own room/bathroom. It was very quirky and the couple who ran it were delightful. Monsieur spoke not a word of English, but his greeting of “Madame, avez besoin de nager?” Was met with an enthusiastic, “Madame a beaucoup besoin de nager!” Madame was DESPERATE to nager, if truth be told. As was Monsieur. So we dumped our bags, and hopped in the rather lovely saltwater pool and splashed around happily enjoying the welcome cooling effect, while making friends with the lady of the house who was an English teacher so we could chat happily.
We explained to them our reasons for coming to Montbazon (which is pretty off the beaten track), namely that we had camped there many years before. On that trip we had noticed a huge tower in the distance from our campsite and one day on our way back to the campsite we detoured to it. The kids had all crashed out in the car, and we went to the entrance where we greeted by an elderly Englishman. He explained that he had bought what was in effect an old keep known as the Donjon of Montbazon, which he was living in and in the process of restoring. We rushed back to the car, woke up our rather recalcritant children and said, “You must see this!”. I’m not sure the children were as enthusiastic as we were, but we bought tickets and the chap in charge kindly showed us round, explaining the history. In the tenth century a dastardly villain called Fulke the Nerra (The Black Falcon on account of his nasty deeds) was fighting the ducs de Blois. At that period, people built wooden stockades, so the convention was everyone rampaged about in the spring/summer, then went back to harvest in the autumn and retreated because it was too bleak to fight through the winter months. Fulke changed all that by building a stone keep - Montbazon (I think) being the first. This changed the game completely and allowed him to overcome his enemies, until everyone else caught on.
We had a great day looking round the site, and marvelled at the work the guy in charge was doing (he had spent a fortune on supporting the deep foundations of the tower), and always vowed to get back one day. Our hosts were delighted to hear our story, but informed us that the original owner had sold, and it was now owned by a historical society, whom they seemed somewhat less than enamoured with.
The next day we went out to take a look. And were sadly disappointed. Instead of being open every day, it appeared that the Donjon was only open at the weekends or when special activities were held, and this was a weekday. We walked around the outside to get a feel of it, but had to depart without seeing the transformations wrought in the time since we’d last been there.
At a loss as to what to do, that having been our plan for the day, we searched for local sites to visit and came across the Chateau de Candé. Which we discovered on arrival was where the Duke and Duchess of Windsor had married and where they spent some time. Not quite as much as fun as Fulke the Nerra, but nonetheless we enjoyed it. The building is beautiful and is set in stunning grounds, and as the sun was still shining we were able to wander about happily for the afternoon, before trotting off back to our guest house where were able to fulfil our besoin de nager once again.
The next morning, we set off (after a stunning breakfast from our wonderfully generous hosts) for Dieppe. I had hoped we might be able to take a dive off to the coast for a swim on the sea, before getting our boat, but hélas, was thwarted once more as everywhere we tried to go was rammed, and so reluctantly we headed for Dieppe, where we waited for over an hour in the burning heat, before finally boarding, and saying a fond farewell to a trip that had been fun, informative and long overdue.
This was the first time we’d travelled like this, and we did learn a thing or two along the way. Firstly, that Dave’s desire to be near to the heat of the action by booking us into centre of mediaeval cities was more than a tad stressful at times, and caused far too many marital spats. Secondly, only allowing one or two nights per city was a pain in the arse frankly. Every time we had got settled we had to up sticks again, and we vowed next time to do things differently, and find one place to stay for a few days where we could go and visit a variety of things, without having the pain of driving through mediaeval streets. And of course, last but not least, we needed to stay in at least one or more places where the possibility of swimming was on the menu. That at least, was my chief takeaway…
The hotel we stayed in in Bergerac seems to have gone bust, but in Montbazon we stayed here and I’d thoroughly recommend it. One day we might go back and revisit that damned castle!