Having originally intended to stay near Marseillan for another day, this morning a set of four rather gabbly neighbours combined with an incessantly barking dog encouraged us to call it a day, we’d been here six days after all, and move on rather precipitously to our next intended port of call, Fanjeaux, not far from Carcassonne in the Pays Cathare.

Regrettably we drove just far enough (100mls/160kms) to get under some dark and threatening clouds, maybe suffering from the influence of the Pyrenees. The weather in the south of the country is going through a more unsettled spell while the north and west look considerably more appealing. However, we’ve still got two weeks left and are reticent to head north just yet. It’s tempting to feel as though we are approaching the end but it’s also sobering to think that, had we begun a “normal” two week break this weekend, we’d only just have arrived in the south and have it all to look forward to.

We’ve headed for Camping les Brugues, a favourite farm site of ours at Fanjeaux. We were stunned to discover that it was completely empty. We now have the entire campsite to ourselves so we certainly seemed to have fixed the gabbly neighbours issue. Well, that is, we have the campsite to ourselves except for several families of coots, three grey herons and many thousand froglets on and around the neighbouring lake. The grass is so full of little frogs that we have to be wary of where we walk. Several hop to safety every time we take a step. It’s like having our own personal nature reserve. The little guy in these pictures is only about 1in/2.5cms long.

We’ll get a paper tomorrow and see what Meteo France thinks about the weather prospects. We hear that Steve and Rosemary are now basking in sunshine up in the Vendée and that the forecast is fair.

First thing this morning we bad our fond farewells to Steve and Rosemary who were up à bonne heure packing their camping gear ready for their drive north to Arçais. They are spending the following week in a gîte belonging to our mutual friends, Mike and Linda Eaton.

Carol and I settled on a bike ride back into Marseillan to see if the oyster festival that we spotted yesterday was looking any livelier today. It was. Today the trestle tables and cunningly placed packing cases (as tables and chairs) outside the seafood stalls were being well used by an enthusiastic public.

Bizarrely, Woburn in Bedfordshire, which is about as far away from the sea as it’s possible to get in England, has an annual very well-attended oyster festival in early September. We are usually travelling at that time and sadly tend to miss it. Having happened across Marseillan’s welcome offer of an alternative, we were not about to pass it up and settled down to celebrate Carol’s birthday weekend a second time. Marseillan does seem like a more natural venue for an oyster festival since the Bassin de Thau, on which Marseillan stands, is full of oyster farms. We shared a dozen large, plump oysters, and absolutely excellent they were, too. We both agreed that these were in the running for being the best oysters we have tasted.

Cycling back was tough going into what seemed like a Mistral-like northerly headwind. We found a sheltered, cross-country VTT (Vélo Tout Terrain) route which turned the slog into a more enjoyable experience. I much prefer the French term for “mountain bike” – “all terrain bike” seems like a more apt description to me.

Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday dear Carol,
Happy birthday to you.

Yes, ‘t was Carol’s birthday and one of the main reasons for our heading this way at this time was to have a birthday lunch at one of the most enjoyable seafood eateries overlooking Marseillan harbour. Last time we tried it, we went for an evening meal around the harbour and it was somewhat disappointing. Things just seem more relaxed at lunchtime so we’ve given up eating out in the evening in favour of relaxing chez Billy. As a bonus this year, we were graced by having Steve and Rosemary for company. Party!

An event was happening, or getting ready to happen, in Marseillan. Having parked and walked down to the main street we heard music and revelry. Well, I say “music”: raucous, somewhat coordinated noises were emanating from several brass instruments and drums. Nonetheless it was all very colourful and jolly and the “band” soon began heading towards the harbour. We followed. The event turned out to be a weekend sort of oyster festival but, as yet, little was happening, other than the “musicians”, that is, who quite by chance launched into a rendition of “happy birthday to you”, at one point.

We sauntered around studying the sights before heading for our preferred lunchtime café/restaurant. As we stood surveying the free tables one of the establishments younger patrons in a pushchair and wearing a nappy began to squeal. Mother attended. The squealing continued. Maybe it was upset by the pipe smoke of one of the older customers on the neighbouring table. The noise and smoke pollution were sufficient to make us perform a swift U-turn to choose an alternative, more relaxing venue.

Good choice. Birthday girl and Rosemary both enjoyed grilled gambas with pastis while Steve and I both destroyed and impressive plateau de fruits de mer. Other than Steve, who had graciously offered to drive, everything was washed down with a very good local white wine, Picpoul de Pinet.

I love our smoking ban in public places. Now, if we could just ban screaming as well …

The thunder storms that our old copy of Aujourd’hui seemed to have suggested we might get yesterday turned up overnight. We battened down the hatches and had a somewhat disturbed night’s sleep listening to occasional claps of thunder accompanying the wind-blown rain lashing on Billy’s sides and roof. I was praying that the wind wouldn’t get so strong as to endanger our sun canopy. Fortunately the wind was blowing across it rather than into it.

The elemental battering continued through most of the morning and we sat with Steve and Rosemary under the mercifully still-standing sun canopy, sipping coffee and nattering. Barbecues were not looking too promising as a method of cooking for the evening so I suggested a communal cassoulet to keep out any evening chill. It would be a bit of a cheat using precooked beans in deference to camping gas supplies but what the heck.

The weather brightened by midday so we hit the local supermarché to get our ingredients. We also hit the local McDonalds to see if my blog was faring any better. It wasn’t. I posted three more blog entries and couldn’t see them on the display page. Steve did see them. Then he didn’t. Moving to a new server seems to have left me sometimes getting to the former server and sometimes to the replacement server. Very curious and very screwed up. Bother!

We returned with a still-broken blog and our gastronomic booty to a now bright but still quite windy, lazy afternoon. Lazy, that is, except for those who have to cook a communal cassoulet.

We’d correctly identified Steve and Rosemary’s tent in a prime corner pitch of the campsite. Two years ago we’d met another English guy here who always tries to reserve that particular pitch. Since we never know where we’re going or when, we don’t do such things. Flexibility is key; go with the flow!

We’d had a suitably vinous reunion with S&R yesterday afternoon/evening whereupon Rosemary had Carol in stitches relating her story about trying to buy some stamps from a very confused lady. The lady in question was confused largely because Rosemary had wandered into the gendarmerie rather than la poste. Whoops, sorry officer!

Today dawned cloudy. The ladies decided we should go into Sète to see the market, supposedly the best in this area. I went along for the ride – well, to drive, actually. We last visited Sète about three years ago since when there has clearly been a lot of development along the sand bar road that runs into Sète from Marseillan Plage. The journey was a bit of a wind-up and we didn’t recognise much of our route though we eventually did spot a car park, the last free one before Sète, that we recognized … and that was full. We found a paying alternative shortly afterwards and abandoned ship.

The market was good, particularly the covered market hall where we bought some bonito tuna for this evening’s meal. I thought I was asking the fishmonger to fillet it but she just gutted it and cut off the head so I guess I’m filleting it myself in Billy. After a rather complex procedure the girls also managed to buy yet another poulet rôti (rotisseried, a.k.a. spinning, chicken) for us to share for lunch.

The return journey became another wind-up as we got stuck behind a learner truck driver carefully negotiating the narrow streets of Marseillan and subsequently crawling, relatively speaking, along the main roads. Eventually we returned to kill a beer, some wine and the already dead chicken. And very good it was too.

Note to self: in future avoid large town markets and stick to the smaller ones.

Yesterday afternoon I cycled into Maussane les Alpilles to have a beer in one of the bars offering free WiFi. I posted whatever new blog entries I had but was very disturbed to learn that there seems to be something terminal ailing my blog installation. I tried but really couldn’t come to any conclusion as to what might be wrong. Blog entries seem to be being posted successfully, show up on the admin screens but not on the blog display page. Very curious. It’s as if the database or the WordPress installation has been corrupted. It’ll probably have to wait until we get home (boo hoo!) to sort it out.

The Mistral finally died down over night and this morning we packed and set off for Montagnac near Pézenas in the Languedoc. We originally had an appointment with Carol’s birthday lunch on the coming Saturday. Yesterday we discovered that Steve and Rosemary ad decided to zoom down south and join us so we now have a second appointment to meet up with them; they’ve pitched their tent on our intended campsite.

We had a very pleasant drive across the Camargue before hitting an autoroute to negotiate Montpellier painlessly. Unfortunately I clambered off said autoroute a little too soon and we ended up suffering some of the pain of Montpellier’s suburb traffic. Serves me right for being tight-fisted and trying to avoid autoroute tolls.

The Campsite reception was closed when we arrived so we chose a free-looking pitch in the hope that we could stay on it. Sometimes, unbeknownst to us, pitches get reserved. We think we’re a couple of pitches away from Steve and Rosemary’s tent which was also unmanned when we arrived.

There are some strange, fluffy, grey and white cloudy things in the sky. I hope they don’t bring friends and gather in strength.

We’d debated moving on today rather staying for the final day of this camp site’s season. However, the Mistral started blowing with some ferocity overnight and continued into the day. Since towing across the Mistral can be less than comfortable and since we have no pressing engagements, we’ve stayed put and will leave tomorrow as originally intended.

En route to preparing for tomorrow’s journey to the Languedoc, i.e. buying food and fuel, we called in to an interesting show at the Val d’Enfer near Les Baux-de-Provence. In some of the cathedral-sized caverns left by the mining of the Bauxite there is a show that uses the flat, light-coloured walls as projection screens to show pictures to musical accompaniment. The content changes but is currently all to do with Picasso. The place is called the Cathédrale des Images and, when you see the size of the caverns used, you can see why. It’s an impressively constructed show lasting 45-60 minutes (I wasn’t counting).

We’ve been intrigued by notices to control freedom of movement in the forest at certain times of day. There are clearly three risk level defined; orange, red and black. Orange allows you to walk in the forest at any time of day; red, only in the morning; black, not at all. What we haven’t discovered is what defines the currently applicable risk level. It seems a rather strange control to me. I assume any arsonist intent on wreaking havoc would know when they were permitted to enter to start a blaze. Perhaps it reduces the accidental risk of fires caused by careless smokers slightly.

It seems we are to have visitors. Steve and Rosemary are currently in the north of France but have decided to head south to join us near Pezenas for a few days. Now we do have a pressing engagement. The weather forecast is looking a little shaky after tomorrow, though. Gulp!

The blogs have been building up again having failed to find the McDonald’s in Arles. Today we wanted to get some exercise and cycle the 4mls/6kms into Maussane-les-Alpilles avec laptop and try the supposed free WiFi hotspots in town.

The day was hot. Several years ago in some particularly steamy French temperatures we began by thinking that it would be too hot to cycle enjoyably with all the physical exertion required so we avoided clambering on our bikes and going out for a ride. Avoided it, that is, until our boredom thresholds were exceeded by sitting still for too long doing next to nothing. “Oh, let’s give it a try”, we said gamely. We did and most unexpectedly it proved to be noticeably cooler cycling along than sitting still. The draft caused by a modest forward speed is like sitting in front of a fan and it more than compensates for the additional exertion. Much better.

Thus unafraid to cycle in warmer weather, we cycled into town, picked one of the cafes and settled down with a coffee to post our blog entries. They all seemed to post well and considerably faster than they had been doing chez McDonald’s, I might add. Unfortunately something weird appears to have happened to some of those we last posted chez McDonald’s @ Digne-les-Bains. I tried to figure out what was awry but both my ideas and the laptop’s battery ran low before I could determine anything. Blasted technology! It’ll have to wait until I get home (not that I want to think about getting home just yet).

We rode back the long way going about 10mls/16kms out of our way. Then, being fans of cycling along to cool down, did another 12mls/20kms up into Les Alpilles and back in the afternoon.