Vaucluse Dreamer

We had the most superb day off yesterday with our friends in the Marais Breton. They took us across the ancient tidal Causeway onto the Ile de Noirmoutier, which we hadn’t visited before.

The Causeway is an incredible road that is only accessible for a couple of hours, either side of low tide, and is a hugely popular route onto the island, as we discovered, joining the queue about 1km before the cobbled path starts.

But what we realised very quickly, was that not all the people had come to simply cross the Causeway to reach the island, but had actually come to find their lunch and supper.

At every opportunity across the Causeway, the cars had pulled off onto the expanse of sand-flats that had been exposed by the low tide. As far as the eye could see, there were groups of people digging in the sand, filling buckets with shellfish to take home with them.

It was an incredible sight, and I can only imagine that the rush to get back to cars and off the causeway, as the tide returns, must be quite frenetic. Although it appears that not everyone makes it in time, and along the Causeway are ‘Escape towers’, which provide a place (where people who have left it too late to drive out) can climb, to be safe from the incoming tide.

And when we left the island, we realised just how high the water is, even a few hours before high tide, and I’m not sure I could ever risk being caught out.

But having made it safely across the Causeway, we had the most superb day exploring the Island. It’s reminiscent of the Ile de Re and the Ile D’Oleron, with beautiful beaches and pretty villages of low, white houses with blue shutters. Hollyhocks and roses grow from the pavements and the scent of warm pine hangs in the air.

We picked up a picnic lunch and went out to one of the nearby beaches, where we sat on a bench, watching the world pass by. You could have been on the Cote D’Azur, with golden sand, turquoise sea and little tree-covered rocky outcrops that could have stepped straight from a painting by Monet or Cezanne. It was exquisitely beautiful.

We wandered along the beach, paddling our feet through the warm waves and clambered across the rocks into the neighbouring cove.

It felt as if we truly were on holiday, and it felt about as far away from the bikes, as it could have been. Although the Island is incredibly well set-up for cycling, with a huge network of purpose-built paths and tracks, as well as cycle paths along roads too.

We spent the whole day just pottering from one spot to another, enjoying the views and the wildlife too. We had spotted a Montague’s Harrier, but also watched an Otter and Sacred Ibis as well.

We watched people fishing for whitebait, pulling up dozens, in their huge nets, filling buckets, which would be taken home for tea too.

The Island is also renowned for its potatoes

and Fleur de Sel,

and we bought both, to take back with us for supper.

It was an enchanting day off, and as we have found before, our cycle rides through this beautiful country have introduced us to so many new and beautful areas that we want to explore in more detail.

But all good things have to come to an end, and however much we could have stayed a few more days with Jo and Peter, it wouldn’t get us further through France, so this morning, after breakfast, we loaded the bikes again and pedalled out on the next stage of our journey.

If we’re honest, we imagined that cycling with panniers and our camping equipment would slow us down and significantly reduce the distance we could cover each day. We had imagined that we would be covering 60-70 km per day, but are managing considerably more.

Last night, we started to plot a new route, as if we had continued at the rate we were travelling, then we would be in Angouleme on Monday, when we dont want to be there until friday, just in time to watch the opening rugby match of the season.

Today’s ride changed from being about 70km, to just over 100, taking us inland from the coast, around La Roche sur Yon, towards the Marais Poitevin, and an area that we have wanted to revisit for a long time, after having spent a number of holidays there over 30 years ago.

So just before 9, we pedalled away from our friends’ house, taking the quiet roads through the Marais, chasing our shadows in the low, early-morning sun.

The peace was interrupted by the occasional ‘plop’ of a Ragondin or a Muskrat slipping into the water, and the prehistoric calls of the Herons, flying in to feed. It is packed with wildlife and is a joy to pedal through (even with the stiff headwind that we had today)

After a while though, we left the Marais behind, being cheered along by the rhythmic song of the last remaining Zitting Cisticolas, that still haven’t started their long flight south. It was just a joy to turn the pedals.

Once we had left the Marais Breton behind, we continued on into the Vendee hinterland of quiet roads, sleepy villages and rolling hills.

It felt a bit odd, as for most of the ride, we pedalled along the same route that we had taken, 2 years ago on our first trip down. Memories came rolling back, as our wheels took us from village to village, up the gentle, rolling hills.

We stopped for a much-needed second breakfast, in the pretty village of Maché, buying a picnic lunch too, an stopping to eat that, at the same place that we stopped before.

But then we left the trodden-path behind and took a route down towards the Marais Poitevin and the campsite that we had found for the night, in Mareuil-Sur-Lay-Dissais.

As we dropped below La Roche Sur Yon, we started riding through the first vineyards that we’ve seen this time. The vines heavy with black grapes, which somehow seem to have survived (and thrived) in the stifling heat of the last few weeks.

We cycled past local Domaines, described as producing wines from the ‘Fiefs’ of the Vendee, as we passed through Rosnay, which was announced on the village sign as a Commune of the Marais Poitevin.

So we had done it, 100 km ridden and we had gone from one Marais (salt-water) to another (fresh-water)

We found the campsite by the river in Mareuil, and pitched our tent, which took about half the time that it took 2 days ago, and set off to look at the town and find a drink & some food.

The town is beautiful,  with a chateau and newly restored church, above the river, but unfortunately all the bars were closed and the only supermarket was on the outskirts. So Andy popped a pannier back on the bike and pedalled off, in search of food and wine.

So this evening, we’re feasting on bread, pate and tomatoes, washed down with a local wine, whilst the river flows gently behind us.

This trip really is everything we imagined it would be (and more)

On again tomorrow and aiming to potter slowly through the Marais Poitevin, revisiting yet more memories of times gone by, although last time Andy ate locally caught Eel, and I’m not sure that will happen again

But who knows?