Tapp's Travels

That seemed to work! And now I’m getting the hang of putting pictures where I want them!

After a night on Plymouth docks, we were in the queue well early.  We got through security with a friendly, but rather cursory, inspection of the caravan’s front locker. Maybe we don’t look like serious threats to national security. Thankfully!  We were directed to the very front of one of the caravan lanes where we waited – and waited – and waited.

Hundreds of cars each loaded to the gunwhales with young children and covered in roof boxes and bike racks with at least ten bikes each were shepherded onto the Armorique and hidden on various decks that caravanners never see (thankfully). This is going to be a very full and noisy crossing! After the cars, the dreaded camper vans, more late arriving cars, then caravans were taken aboard.  Sailing time (08.00) came and went. Then even more last minute arrivals were loaded.  Our particular row of three caravans was being kept in reserve.  We were still on the dock right in front of the loading ramp raring to go some 20 minutes after the boat should have departed.

Fortunately it hadn’t left, but our ring-side position had given us the ideal opportunity to study the sea conditions. For a little under 90 minutes we had a prime view!  I can confirm that it was actually rougher in Millbay Docks with the ferry tied up alongside the quay than it had been in the middle of the Bay of Biscay in June when we crossed to Santander!

Sensing another potential disaster we debated renting a lock-up on board – a nice cabin. The discussion was short and sweet. One glance at the hoards of little ones and their much-tattooed parents was the decider.  £26 well spent!  Glenda dosed herself on 17 Dramamine – well, we’d left the cannabis behind this time.  (Just as well, because, obviously, we would have had it stashed in the caravan’s front locker and this would have been the world’s shortest ever travel blog).

Leaving Plymouth Sound, the captain ordered all outside decks to be closed for the duration.  For safety reasons.  High winds on the high seas.  With a wind speed estimated by a sailing expert as at least 40 knots on the bow and with a boat speed of 15-20 knots, we were well into the apparent wind speed of a violent storm (Beaufort force 11).  Having stepped out onto the stern deck briefly I can confirm it was bloody breezy. I know, the decks were no-go areas, but someone had to take the following picture.  At the time I was being soaked by spray from the bow wave some 168.3 metres forward of my position.

Well, on the basis of “it can’t get any worse”, the chances are it’ll get better (and maybe Glenda will stop muttering about Northumberland!  Just maybe!!).

At least the cabin was a peaceful haven. That is until a hoard of the very little people from whom we were trying to escape started a game of hide and seek on our deck. I put ten of the blighters out on the deck and that sorted them out!  I think the rest of tjem beat a hasty retreat to deck 7!

(If you were thinking of reporting me to the RSPCC or the RSPCA or the RSVP – I’ll have to confess that I made that bit up – probably!)

Before leaving home we had decided we would like to visit a campsite for the first few days that we had never been to previously.  Concarneau and Beg-Meil were mooted. The only site to reply to our enquiries was near Concarneau.  It was advertised as a small, friendly, peaceful site in the country near the town.  And some pitches had a sea view. Excellent. I made a three day reservation. Except Glenda had reservations of a different kind. So the deal was we would look elsewhere if this site proved unsuitable.  Well, it was a packed, busy, noisy site close to the centre of town. We had a “We aren’t saying here Barry” moment and promptly scarpered. True enough, the staff were very friendly but having happy staff is not always enough. After a quick look at the alternative site up the road, we elected to go to Camping Keranterec at La Forêt-Fouesnant – where we had been before. Best laid plans and all that!

We pitched on space 121 because most of the places we had been told were free were actually occupied. Salamanca came to mind. So we didn’t join anyone else on their pitch this time. It was raining a steady heavy drizzle when we arrived. Suffice it to say I got pretty wet. Still we have a nice view – as proved at breakfast time…

Monday dawned a nice day and we went or a gentle stroll on the coastal path to the port area…

… and on into and town. At least we now know the way to Wales from here!

We had covered six or seven miles by the time we got home.  And we had had a lovely lunch in the local traiteur’s with the native painters and decorators – surprise, surprise!

And that concludes our first full day in France.