We left the scabby Norwegian Blue and the remaining menagerie behind and set off in the direction of Verdon Sur Mer which is the ferry departure point for the crossing of the Gironde estuary. Passed a couple of small seaside towns along the way and made an obligatory stop for a cold beer in a cafe overlooking the beach where you could watch all the other people go through the traumas of a day on the beach in the burning sun. These include:
Turn up at the back of the beach. Big decision – keep shoes on and flick sand everywhere or take them off and risk burnt soles on the baking sand.
Family faffing over where to set up camp despite the fact that the beach is a thousand miles long with no problem of over-crowding.
Having agreed a location, start the wrestling match with parasols that refuse to be erected in the stiff long shore breeze. We did see one scoot off fully erect down the beach for several hundred yards with its owner running after it waving his arms and shouting ‘Attention la parasol echappe’ to anyone who would listen. Luckily for him some brave soul threw himself bodily at the runaway multicoloured monster and effectively rugby tackled it and brought it to a halt before it wiped out his family encampment.
The kids just want to head off into the sea and merely dump whatever they are carrying and make a sprint beeline for the ocean rollers while mum and dad panic about who is going to finalise the completing the major encampment which is now under construction and who is going to run after the kids to stop them drowning.
Then there is the major faff about do I put cream on now or wait till I have been in the sea and put it on later. Will I burn in the interim? If I put it on later will I end up just rubbing the lotion all over my now sandy body and effectively rubbing myself with sandpaper.
And then there is the trauma of actually getting into the sea. Is it the dash and splash technique i.e. run in and throw yourself headlong into the surf and risk smashing your nose into the wet sand ‘cos the water wasn’t as deep as you thought – or the slow and steady approach inching gradually into the icy water slowly numbing every part of your body progressively up to your neck. The hardest part is nearly always the shoulders which up to this point have been burning in the sun and now have to submerged in the icy briny. People hunch their shoulders and try and make themselves as thin as possible somehow thinking the wave won’t get them but it always does. The chickens just turn round at this point and walk out of the sea, the remainder resign themselves to their fate and chuck themselves in.
Anyway we watched all this human drama unfolding from our slightly elevated position in a beach bar overlooking the surf, with a cold beer in hand and in the shade. Now that’s my kind of trip to the beach!
Eventually made the ferry from Verdon to Royan across the Gironde estuary which takes about half an hour. There was a short delay in the boarding process as about 10 matelots gathered round a winch onboard the ship which operated the hawser attached to the shore. There was a lot of Gallic arm waving and scratching of heads to try and resolve whatever the problem was. Eventually they all gave up and we all boarded and set off. The estuary is the largest in Western Europe according to Mr Wikipedia and is formed by the confluence if the Dordogne and Garonne rivers.
Spent the evening in a beachside restaurant watching the France v Belgium WC semi-final. The place was packed full of diners giving themselves indigestion as their team barely struggled to maintain their fragile 1-0 lead.
The final whistle came, the room rose to its feet as one and the roof came off. Lots of happy French people. The cycle ride back to our hotel was accompanied by a mass of honking car horns and noisy flag waving.
Just wait till they meet England in the final. That’ll wipe the smile off their faces.
( I write this before tonight’s England v Croatia game so may have to eat my words!).
Velodyssee 
Less ferry taking and more cycling required
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