13 RAUZAN
There are two short sections of Péage on the A63 between the Spanish border and Bordeaux. One runs from just north-west of Dax for about 10 miles. The other is just south of Bordeaux before the road becomes the city’s ring-road which is also known as the nightmare-from-hell-lorry-log-jam. Fortunately, the trucks are forbidden to overtake. However, woe betide the caravanners who pull in with the heavy boys. Getting back out to overtake them is difficult to say the least! In fact the words “bloody, nearly and impossible” spring to mind!
Anyway, from Dax we had the super opportunity to drive almost due north to the start of the free motorway at Castets rather than cut across country and join the autoroute earlier. The former route was the one chosen and clearly advised by the navigator. The latter had the twin “advantages” of being both longer and €5.50 more expensive! While Glenda had her head down reading about our target site possibilities, I managed to get on the wrong road. Much criticism ensued! Followed eventually, by a prolonged silence! We do love this harmonious life style!
Anyway, with that experience fresh in our minds we decided to branch off the motorway at junction 17, just short of the second péage section. From here Glenda and the sat nav had found a cross country route direct to Rauzan. The “yellow” road heading East was straight, smooth and fast. (It is true that we were a little concerned about lengthy sections of “white” roads towards the end of the trip.) However, great progress was made until we arrived at the inevitable “route barrée” and “deviation” signs at the first junction. So, rather than risk it for a biscuit on little country lanes, we elected to turn left and head back north to the autoroute, joining it (with lots of trucks) just as the free section started again! A cynic looking at our track might be tempted to say we drove a 15 mile detour just to avoid 10 miles of toll road. Perish the thought!
The village of Rauzan is about as far as it’s safe to drive with Glenda’s dodgy back. She’s still suffering the after-effects of our physiotherapy session back in Portugal! As we drove through, it looked like a real living town. And later this was confirmed when we discovered that it had (in addition to a nice campsite and a ruined castle), two bakeries, two banks, two restaurants, a bar, a garage, a supermarket (small but well stocked), no less than FOUR hairdressers and a tourist office (which was, usefully, shut).
Our pitch at Rauzan – Camping le Vieux Chateau
The campsite has a lovely pool which comes with instructions – lots of them. One in particular is rampant (and, with hindsight, that’s a good choice of word) throughout France. It concerns the boy’s togs. Speedos are fine (and I can already hear Sybil chortling – but that’s another inside joke although, in fact, not all the bits were properly inside!). Shorts with tight fitting legs are also OK. What isn’t acceptable is the sort of long-legged swimming shorts which most of us of a certain age possess. For totally unexplained, “reasons of hygiene”, boys are expected to toe the line. Well, and Sybil will be delighted about this, my Speedos were consigned to the re-cycling bin at La Fauie after their last “outing”. I now have a new name. Call me Captain Underpants!
This site – Camping Le Vieux Chateau – is a little oasis of calm. Even when watching England lose at football to Belgium it was OK. Well, maybe a more accurate choice of words would be “not unexpected”. The Belgians on site were very restrained and only started celebrating once they got back to their tent when the singing started.
Rauzan Town Hall and our old chateau.
Today is Friday 29th June (Lauren and Rob’s birthdays – Happy Birthdays guys!). It’s been a busy month for birthdays of friends and family. I hope we remembered them all. Frighteningly, I’ve just done a bit of mental arithmetic and discovered that the month’s birthdays add up to an impressive 726 years (give or take a decade). That would take us back to the 1290s. Edward 1 was on the throne in England. The Poms blitzed La Rochelle and effectively took us to war with France. It must have just been a warm-up event though because the 100 Years’ War didn’t really get going until almost 50 years later. And then they lost count and let it drag on for 116 years. A bit like Brexit apparently!
We’ve been for a walk through town today. We’ve checked out the castle and the bakeries and eaten at the Restaurant La Maison. A really friendly place. So much so that we have booked again for tomorrow evening with a couple of OSPs.
Front of house at La Maison restaurant
Before I finish this installment I have to tell you about the new classification system that Glenda has instituted. Basically there are two options although there may be further refinements and sub-categories added later. The choices are OSP and NOT. People can fall into either category although it’s very hard for camper-vanners to get into the OSP group.
This year we have met a number of OSPs (Our Sort of People) – and some have indeed been driving the “dreaded” machines. The question of whether you are OSP or NOT (Not Our Type) is really irrelevant. If we are still talking then you are clearly not NOTs! Cuddly bears have life-time guarantees of OSP status. I need to say that a lot of our friends (and therefore OSPs) are not receiving these messages – but only to avoid annoying them with rambling emails!
Whether the classification works both ways is, of course, up to you!
So, all you lovely OSPs, that’s more than enough for now.