Tapp's Travels

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The road to Camping Serpolin from Bressuire was narrow and untypically bumpy.  Not “speed-bumpy”, just very uneven.  We were expecting lots of stuff to have fallen out of cupboards and the milk in the fridge converted to butter.  While driving slowly seemed to keep the milk runny, lots of stuff did fall on Glenda’s head when she opened the top cupboards!

Camping Serpolin, when we eventually got there, was a lovely open space surrounded by acres (well, hectares, I suppose) of grass meadows and fields of wheat.

The view from the caravan of the Western horizon by day and at sunset.

Serpolin is run by an English couple, Matt and Donna-Marie (or possibly Donna-Marie and Matt!), who had given up the delights of Bristol City for this very rural retreat.  And they were making a good job of it.  The lovely pool which they built themselves during Covid wins them the hottest-swimming-pool-of-the-trip award.  At a balmy 30°C, a clear winner!  They also bake, or at least heat, bread, croissants, pains aux raisins etc each morning AND deliver them to campers on site.  Just as well.  The nearest boulangerie is some 465 kms away!

We didn’t have much time in this area.  So we decided to visit Doué-la-Fontaine.  It was early afternoon on Saturday, but the town was virtually empty.  Everywhere was closed.  Not just for lunchtime.  It was like everyone was waiting for “Summer” to arrive.  And bear in mind, we are now in the last two days of June

The church, Église St Pierre, in town appeared to be locked!  Shock, horror!  I suppose we are getting closer to the UK!  However, the garden gate was standing open, and this led to the back door of a side chapel.  This in turn opened through a large maze of massive curtains into the main part of the church.  A reduced height version of the national plan.  The builders just left 20 courses out when they were working on the support pillars!  Maybe it was a financial matter.

Now, I just have to remember how to get out of here!

The architecture of the old buildings is lovely.  Lots of corner turrets.  Ideal for nosey home owners.  They can see what’s going on down both streets!  Anyway, having found the only open bar in town to be less than totally salubrious, we decided to go on to Saumur.

Now we know why Doué was devoid of nearly all human life.  They are all in Saumur.  All the parking lots to the West of the city centre are jammed solid.  The main road along the river bank is shut.   A thing they do with panache and with the smallest of excuses!  Route barée!  Something’s going on, Barry!

We find ourselves deviated miles around the back streets to get to the river on the East side of town.  At this point, you understand, we were unaware of the road closure for the festival.  In fact we were unaware there even was a festival in full swing! 

It’s a celebration of vintage (certainly non-electric) bicycles.  There are thousands of these old machimes roaming around the city.  The riders all in clothing from another era!  We have also discovered where the “Everything-to-do-with-two-wheels” jumble sale went when it left Duravel!  Onto the banks of the Loire in Central Saumur.

Vintage outfits and mounts are a must for “La Rando Vélo Rétro”.  This offbeat bike ride has five different routes, ranging from 30 to 120 km.  They take the “Cycling Saumurois” between the Loire, châteaux, troglodyte caves, and vineyards. These “races” encourage “competitors” of all skill levels.  It’s a quirky event which attracts more than 45,000 visitors to the town, plus 10,000 race participants (published estimates, not my made-up ones!).  They come from all four corners of the globe.  No perishing wonder we had trouble parking!

In combination, there is also a celebration of 80 years since WW2.  So the “retro dress-code” of the vintage bike event spread to this as well!  To be fair, the two events seemed to fit together very well.  Seamlessly even.

The front of Église St Pierre was serenely quiet (and, by the look of things, built to a non-standard design!).  No traffic, because the road beside it was closed for the weekend.

Actually, I’ve just realised that this “church” is actually a theatre.  Le Dôme.  Not a church at all.  So the plans can be different after all – that’s acceptable!   I got my pics mixed up!  (And this one is not even my picture!)

However, immediately behind the theatre, the noise and mayhem began …

.. and stretched off into the distance along the riverside.  Music, dancing, more music, more dancing, happy crowds drinking and dancing and generally having a good time   When we had arrived in Saumur, I had dropped Glenda off some kilometre beyond this street party.  Rather tragically, we had arranged to meet by the theatre after I had spent half an hour looking for somewhere to abandon the car.  At that point we had no idea that everyone from Doué, Paris and Marseilles had descended on Saumur with the specific intention of crowding out our quiet meeting place!

Oh well, we did find each other (without the assistance of mobile phones – Glenda’s was conveniently on charge – in the caravan!).  I was tasked with the job of finding a crèperie while one of us investigated the shopping opportunities.  While wandering the back-streets on this mission, I came across a group.of four locals sitting getting quietly plastered at a tiny bar.  Somehow we got into a stuttering conversation.  For young people they spoke surprisingly little English – like none!  After a while we got round to the subject of my search.  “I don’t think Albert (the proprietor, sitting in the corner) serves crèpes.” “Correct!.  And he’s shut.  And he’s called Alfonce.”  “No, I’m not, my name is Artur!”

This conversation weaved onwards for ten minutes or so.  By which time we had discussed the weather, the upcoming elections in both France and the UK, the price of Artur’s wine.  (Cheap and free-flowing.)  And then, after a heated discussion amongst themselves, they announced that the best place for crèpes was at a tiny restaurant in Place St Pierre.  (I knew he came into it somewhere!)

Complicated directional instructions followed with lots of “lentements and doucements” from me.  In the end, having said our goodbyes and arranging to meet again next year – same place same time, I consulted Mr Google and found my way to the recommended restaurant, “Crèperie St Pierre La Quichenotte”.  Only to discover it was shut.  Fermée.  Desolé!  But, the steakhouse next door suggested we try their other neighbour, “Crèpes et Kouigns”.  Ouvert!

I booked a table, collected Glenda and we had our second (and third) crèpes of the trip.  And very good they were too, although we preferred their crèpes (which really were galettes) to their kouigns.

Next door was the real Église St Pierre!  To my knowledge, the first repeat church name we’ve had on this mission to meet all the French saints!

After the builders had finished construction of the church to the national plan (naturally), they had a few bricks left over, so they decided to add a fancy frontage to the property.  They wanted it to look more like a theatre!

Unbeknownst to us, we were trampling on Pete and Sandy’s territory.  Their favourite hotel, the St Pierre, is just next door.  We should have asked them for advice on crèperies!

Now, before we leave the area and head for Brittany, there is one more thing to record – and this can be classed as a VERY near end to the holiday.

Very early one morning, we were woken by a significant thunder storm.  One particularly loud bang was accompanied by all the electrics failing.  I checked the trip switches on our supply.  No problem there.  The issue is widespread.  The whole area has been taken out.  No big deal.  We managed weeks with no electricity last year!  Fridge on gas.  Porrige will be on the stove.  All under control.  Back to sleep???  The power was reinstated a few hours later.  Just in time for another HUGE strike.  And this time the flash and the bang happened at the same time – give or take a fraction of a second.  Say a quarter of a second gap.  Now as we all know sound travels at about 1234 kph, or three seconds per km.  The strike was less than 100 metres away!  Yep, the camp-site has just been hit!  Glenda, you can come out from under the duvet.  That’s not going to protect you from lightning!  No blue smoke this time.  Not like we suffered when our house was hit by lightening a few years ago – but the electricity was off again! We hear later that EVERY single trip switch on the site and in the owners’ home was tripped!

Heavens!  France can be a dangerous place!  Let’s hope that Brittany is safer!