A la plage

To the beach!

Summer in Bordeaux is just lovely. The temperatures have fallen from the mid 30s to the mid high 20s; a very pleasant and comfortable experience.

Top of the dune

On stilts!

So today, we are off to the beach! The Atlantic coast lies around 90 minutes due west of us and we are off to explore the highest and largest sand dune in Europe, La Dune de Pyla (or Pylat or Plia depending on which sign you read) So into  la voiture and  we zoom around the ring road to skirt Bordeaux  town itself and head for the beach. In high summer, once off the motorway, it can take 2 hours to make the 8kms to the beach from the end of the motorway. But this being the off season, it is a doddle to keep moving, all be it slowly, to the parking area at the base of the dune. The dune marks the southern entrance to a wide estuary, La Bassin d’Arcachon.  It is huge!!! We shun the stairs and go free climbing up the steep sides; two steps up, one step back. We did have a few stops on the way up, just to look at the view of course. From the top, there is a ridge line along the dune stretching a kilometre or so to the south.

Despite being very careful with his packing back in NZ, John has failed to include the battery charger for his camera battery. And of course, despite normally holding a charge for months, the camera battery has died. Bugger! So we make do with shots taken on cell phones and sit and marvel at the vista from the top. Then it is a mad dash down the sand hill, much faster than climbing up. Everything looked perfect apart from a scattering of cigarette butts at the top! Bloody French and their ciggies!

The Atlantic!

Next plan was for lunch. So trusting dear old TomTom we headed off to Arcachon township itself. We parked in a side street and walked into town. After some prevarication we chose a restaurant with a view across la plage to a mirror glass ocean dotted with moored fizz boats. The snotty waiter eventually took our order and we settled in for a lovely meal of oysters, foie gras, fruits de mer, fish soup which Kris didn’t like and a lovely fresh fish on risotto washed down with a lovely half bottle of white Graves. Yum Yum. Lunch was followed by a perambulation along the promenade people watching and soaking in the sights, dipping our toes in the Atlantic (a wee bit chilly) and basking in warm sunshine. Emma had discovered a fish shop via her phone and we initially headed there on foot. The distance proved too great so we cut across to the car and thanks to the wonders of mobile internet, Emma directed us right to the front door of the shop. The shop was full of fresh fascinating piscatorial wonders which John gleefully started to put into bags for home. “Non, Non. Ce n’est pas  self-service. I will pick for you” scolds the fishmonger’s wife (as per all fishmonger’s wives) but we emerge with smiles, langoustine, mussels, cod and gratis lemon and parsley. All has been forgiven.

John is feeling decidedly naked without his camera so next stop, after a couple of missed leads, is to the nearest Intermarche. Within five minutes we have purchased a replacement generic charger, a further bottle of Graves and two beach towels!!

Nous allons a la plage. Au Le petite Nice. We drive along the coast line past some very impressive large houses until we get onto the coast road and finally park much further from the beach than we needed to, but still, we are at the beach. No surf, sand islands directly off the coast, jet fighters flying overhead and only a few hundred people on the sand. We sit and people watch but decline to enter the water until at around 1800hrs everyone ups and leaves. So off home we go with an uneventful trip.

A la plage: Beach Girl

Dinner tonight is cooked by John from the seafood bar. We begin with two langoustine each, followed by the fried cod then a special treat, John’s own moules recipe.

To bed awaiting gout but with smiles on our faces.

Girls on top of the dune