Blog 2.12 - Towards Home Again

Steve Kimberley
Jun 9, 2023
8 min read

Saturday 3rd June 2023

From sea to shining sea.

Well, from the North Sea, to the Med, and thence the Channel/Manche at least.

We should be viewing,and then on, the latter in just four days, but first a few days in Normandy, and finishing with a couple of nights on the left bankof the Seine before Le Havre for the ferry to Portsmouth.

Our night in Beuvron was entirely peaceful, except for the occasional scraping of a tree branch (more its leaves really) against the MaxxAir fan cover just above our heads. My fault: I could have moved the van a couple of feet, but just couldn't be that bothered.

We had supermarket croissants, not very good, for breakfast, and then headed east on a short hop, on mostly twisting narrow roads, to the small town of Cormeilles.

The free aire here is rather nice, with hedge-separated pitches and plenty of well-mown grassy space behind to spread out on.

We walked the half kilometre into the bustling town centre in search of bread, and quickly decided to have lunch at Aux Diables Verts on the corner of Av. de Chepstow and the central square. There are plenty of cafés, bars, and restaurants, but this one seemed to stand out.

What a great choice.

Attentive, without being overbearing, and helpful service, and great food. M's beef with salad and frites was perfectly (rare as requested) cooked and plentiful, as were my moules frites (rare? No idea! Just as they should be though). And when I say plentiful, I'll swear that there was a medium-sized saucepanful of mussels, drenched in a superb creme sauce.

I was already well into these. The lid has a goodly number of empty shells in it. Excuse the back-lighting

I've genuinely never seen anything remotely like the quantity served to two or even three people, never mind one - and they were utterly delicious; salty and plump and fresh. I just love seafood, but these were just another level.

Wonderful!

One to remember and re-visit.

On the subject of the address, Cormeilles is twinned with the Welsh border town of Chepstow, so it adds up. However, it goes back a lot further than a twentieth-century twinning; the Priory Church in Chepstow was built for William fitzOsbern, right-hand man of William the B'stard (or Conqueror if you prefer).

FitzOsbern founded the town in 1067 just a year after the Norman invasion, and St. Mary's church, a dependent house of his Abbey in Cormeilles, was commenced some years later.

Banksy in Cormeilles?

Sitting on that grassy space on our return, sipping beer and ice tea, M picked up an email from Brittany Ferries.

We've managed to avoid all potential issues, so far, with industrial action in France, but wouldn't you just know it? Yep, the ferry is delayed.

However, it's only a few hours (around a 10pm departure instead of 5pm), and that actually suits me down to the ground as it means we load in daylight and arrive at Pompey in daylight at 7am - and the bonus is that they've chucked in a free cabin for the crossing.

Win win.

Sunday

Sadly, it was quite noisy here last night - mainly due to the local neds blasting around on expansion-chambered two strokes, and gobby buggers playing basketball at all hours in the leisure area next door.

No malice, I'm sure. Just thoughtlessness.

Hopefully it'll be better tonight, but I'll not hold my breath.

It's warm and sunny yet again, but with a pleasant cooling breeze. We breakfasted outside before walking back into town to explore a bit further, by which time it had become quite hot - three degrees warmer than yesterday, apparently.

A noticeable slope up from here (five feet?) to the altar.

A turn around the church brought welcome cool relief for a while, before we again succumbed to the charms of the Green 'Devil', but this time we'd already eaten, so it was just a couple of cold drinks. Those mussels will have to wait for another day!

Then, more cold drinks and feet-up time back at the van. It's tough.

Monday

A far more peaceful night last night without the Harlem Globetrotters and Hell's Neds fannying about.

Yet again, we awoke to glorious sunshine - I'm almost wishing for a bit of cloud.

Not really, though.

We spent about an hour nattering to our near neighbours, a couple from Looe who had recently sold their guest house there and were doing three months in Europe in their Adria PCV with their two little dogs.

Interesting couple: Ben's a recovering alcoholic, and Julie has the patience of a saint!

I cost Ben several hundred quid though, as, after a demonstration of our MaxxFan he was straight onto his local dealer to order an installation. They really are a no-brainer though, especially if you have dogs, and do lots of cooking in the van, as they do!

We left somewhat later than intended, and called at the local Carrefour fuel station for the last top-up (very slightly cheaper than the UK, but little in it at the moment), and then into the supermarket bit for the makings of lunch. And promptly bumped into Ben and Julie who had bought the entire stock of mussels and various other fishy stuff for their own lunch. That's where the MaxxFan would come in very handy!

Admin had picked another free aire for our next (last) two nights, at Quillebouef right on the left bank of the Seine.

On paper, it looked good - and it probably was. However, the circus had beaten us to it, taking over the site for a few days, so we moved swiftly on, crossing the river by the nearby suspension toll bridge in search of a spot we'd seen on Park for Night.

It didn't sound massively promising - and wasn't... Just a gravel road opposite a huge, busy grain silo, and very dusty in the stiff breeze.

Still, we were right by the Seine, and it was an opportune place and time for that lunch stop.

Phone out, and M quickly located a free aire around 20 kilometres away which sounded promising.

Well, she'd only gone and done it again: it's a cracker.

Free electric, water and dumping too, and with hard-standing pitches, separated by hedges, and plenty of grassy areas to sprawl. Incredible. Two nights here at St Romain-de-Colbosc then!

Tuesday

A somewhat overcast, cooler, and breezier start to our last full day here in France.

The aire was packed to (over) capacity last night, with a convoy of Germans turning up late-ish in a motorhome, a delivery van, and a caravan (the latter two being strictly barred according to the signs), and setting up wherever they could. Roadways, grassed areas, wherever. Fortunately for them the local feds had already done their inspection tour - but I suspect they knew that!

Anyway, they were offski quite early, and now there are quite a few vacant pitches, although I bet by the time we return from our walk into town it'll be full again.

It's fair walk into town, and to be fair, there's not all that much to see when you get there.

Still, we found an excellent little Creperie just off the central square with its rather grand twin municipal buildings, and had coffees and framboise crepes for an emininently reasonable price. We then picked up a few groceries before walking back to the aire, which was, of course, starting to fill up; with quite a few UK vans in evidence, which had presumably recently disembarked at Le Havre just down the road, or maybe, like us, they're preparing for an imminent crossing?

Wednesday

Homeward bound.

But first, a lazy sunny morning followed by a gentle trot to the Channel at Cauville-sur-Mer, a few miles north of Le Havre.

There's nothing here, unless you count a very nice boulangerie.

There doesn't even seem to be any access to the sea, as Rue de Mer peters out at the cliff-top with seemingly no way down.

La Manche - or as close as we got

At least the 'Sea Road' that we lived on in Lincolnshire had direct access to the beach. Ah well.

We at least got our steps in for the day, with a good many of them up a fairly steep hill, so it's all good.

We whiled away the rest of the afternoon and early evening around the van, parked in a pretty little motorhome aire with a view of the village church.

It'd have been totally peaceful had the local kids not been on holiday, but, it's their village, so c'est la vie. We weren't staying anyway!

We did the final clear-away, packing a bag each for our overnight (unexpected) floating hotel stay, and headed along the coast road to the ferry port a little after seven, to face the seemingly interminable wait in the queue for boarding. It's always a real bore, but something you have to put up with.

And, at about 7.50, here we are...

Waiting to board. A bit of old tin around.

We sat there for maybe an hour and a half in two stints - inside and outside the ferry terminal before finally being admitted to the car deck of the Brittany Cotentin.

It's quite a small ship, which had a bearing on the quality of the crossing.

First, though, we sought out our cabin, which at first glance was quite roomy - but there's a reason for that; the bathroom is shared between adjacent cabins with a locking system to prevent access between the two. In theory that is. As it happens, the next cabin was not occupied as I found out when I opened the door wondering what it was for. Nope, it's not a cleaner's cupboard you turnip, it's a cabin. Oops.

No issues though, but we kept our side locked just in case!

We went down to the main deck to check out the dinner offering, and it was pretty good. Beef Stifado was my choice, as it was for M, and excellent it was too, and the puddings were pretty fair as well. Ferry food, if rather pricey, seems to have improved over the years, but that's just my opinion.

By this time though, the fact that it was a small ship was becoming evident in the increasingly rolling gait of the thing. That was definitely the least flat crossing I've ever experienced.

Making our way back to the cabin was interesting to say the least. Thank heavens for hand rails!

We quickly turned in; I find it usually helps to lie flat out in such conditions, but not really this time. It just felt like the ship was somehow spiralling. Most odd.

It was probably 3am before I finally nodded off, and thankfully I slept until the alarm at 6am, and by then everything was a miraculously flat calm.

Breakfast was a cup of coffee, and soon enough it was time to strap in and await the lowering of the bow door - or was it stern? I have no idea!

Pompey through a mucky window

For once, we were the second line of vehicles allowed to move and we found ourselves near the front of the passport control queue. This was all going too well...

And then, we were through, following a cursory check for stowaways inside the van, and were heading for the motorway within 25 minutes of docking. Can't be right. We're always last!

I'll take that for a change though.

As always, we were prepared for a slow grind up to the midlands, but (but for a slight delay at the M3 roadworks) it was plain sailing (perhaps not the best choice of phrase given the choppy early morning), and we were into Warwickshire in pretty short order.

I reckon we could have made it home within three hours, but I took the decision to look in on the old folks in St. Nicholas church's front yard on the way.