Last week, Andy and I flew down to Bordeaux to spend a couple of days with my mum in her new home. She had borrowed our camper van to move the dogs and cats over, so the plan was to spend a couple of days with her, help with jobs, eat cheese beneath the trees, and stroll through the vines before driving back to London. A three-day journey that filled me with such unadulterated joy that I’m going to share it with you now. A little ode to our home on wheels.
The journey north started on Thursday afternoon after a lunch of crunchy baguette, leftover cheese, and apricot jam. We drove an hour and a half to Angoulême, down roads shaded by big green trees, through vines upon vines, listening to music that made me feel like I was in a movie about love and summer and the open road.
Angoulême is perched on a hill and looks from below like a large-scale diorama, or, as Andy pointed out (he’s so full of observations, isn’t he?), a bit like Bristol or Bath from a distance. It also happens to be where Wes Anderson filmed The French Dispatch — a testament to its aesthetic appeal. We wandered down the cobbled streets of stone houses, wondering where all the stone must have come from. School had just finished and teenagers swaggered around, smoking cigarettes and acting cooler than they probably felt, making me think that teenagers everywhere are kind of the same.
Andy found a pharmacy to pick up three tubs of his favourite French lip balm and by then it was 5 and time for a drink and a snack. We stopped at a bistro and ordered a glass of wine, une bière blonde, and a crèpe each because the kitchen hadn’t started making frites just yet. Mine, generously doused in Nutella, Andy’s with a ramekin of jam on the side. Our waitress, who I initially spoke to en français, turned out to be English with a London accent and charming little Frenchisms that gave away that she’d lived in France since she was small.
Buzzed by the beer and the beginning of our adventure, we headed back to the van, and set off towards a camping spot we’d found on Park4Night — an essential resource for beginner and veteran van-lifers alike. It wasn’t too much further and was marked with a pine tree symbol to signify its proximity to nature. The best kind.
I’m not quite sure how to even start describing this spot because it so exceeded all expectations and was so overwhelmingly beautiful that my head gets muddled just thinking about it. We drove in around 7 and the sun shone through the trees at an angle that made every blade of grass and every leaf and every stone look worthy of its own song. The river was sparkling and the water was clear and the sky was blue and everything was perfect.
Had it been peak season the place would have been full but, as I kept reminding myself, it was only May so we had it all to ourselves. We tucked the van into the furthest corner, surrounded by green and a bend in the river Charente, then slunk into the water for an evening dip. It was cold and fresh and just what we needed knowing that we wouldn’t shower for the next three days. Plus, there’s something sacred-seeming about dunking yourself in fresh flowing water that added to the whole feel of the place.
For dinner, we made our favourite camping meal of crispy gnocchi and a tomatoey garlicky sauce. It’s crunchy and chewy and saucy and salty, but also only uses one pan and no water. We added mozzarella for good measure and some torn basil on top and ate as the sun set with a cheap bottle of wine. By 10 it was still light, but the mozzies were out so we took to the van which was warm from the day’s sunshine — somewhat of a novelty after doing most of our camping in colder months and having to rug up to our ears. We slept like logs.
The morning was bright and Andy jogged to the bakery for croissants, a baguette, and a chocolate tart while I did some work in the shade. We swam for a while then lay in the sun and I was sad when we had to tear ourselves away to get back on the road. I marked this lovely place with a heart on my map so we can find it again some other time.
The drive up to Tours took about three hours and we parked in the shade 20 minutes from the centre. I didn’t know anything about this sweet city, but Wikipedia told me that it had once been a Gallo-Roman settlement and the capital of France and was now a university town. It was bustling and beautiful and I found three plates and two glasses in a brocante that only took cash. The main square was full of terrasses of students sitting around smoking and chatting and looking gorgeous—the girls at least. The boys all had haircuts straight out of 2003. I felt happy and warm and a little bit old.
We headed east of the city to that night's sleeping spot, not as breathtaking as the last, but very sweet nonetheless with a long picnic table where we set up our dinner of cheese, melon, and saucisson. It’s so freeing to find yourself in these funny places, free from train schedules and check-in times, free to choose where you go next and what roads you take and where you stop. We listened to Tina Turner who had died a few days earlier, I read my book, and we turned out the light before it was fully dark.
The next day’s drive was a long one so we broke it up with a quick stop in a village called Lazardin. It had the ruins of a castle on the hill and a nice man from Florida gave us haricots verts that he’d grown in his garden. I still have them now and am wondering what to do with them. We ate pain au raisin by yet another river, this one with silky green reeds that could trick anyone into thinking there might be mermaids down there and an old stone bridge that was closed for refurbishment but looked like it was coming along nicely.
In the late afternoon, we pulled into Rouen — capital of Normandy and home of Joan of Arc. We walked along the Seine (who knew?!) and over the Pont Guillaume le Conquerant into town which was busy with people and lined with half-timbered houses. Whenever I see these kinds of buildings, I wonder what parts of them are the original 15th-century parts and which parts have been restored or swapped out. I said this to Andy who compared it to the Ship of Theseus which I thought was very cultured of him.
We were a bit tired from such a long drive, so after a mosey through the cathedral and a cold Spanish beer, we set our sights on a forest nearby to rest our weary little heads. Technically this final camping spot was a car park, but with trees all around and set back from the road, it was perfect for a quiet evening, a light dinner (more cheese, more saucisson), and an early night.
The next day, our ferry was at noon from Dieppe, so all on the agenda was to pick up our final pastries and head to the coast. We looked out over the channel as we ate our croissants — which were probably the best I’ve ever had — then made our way to the harbour where we puffed out to sea, chocolate eclair in hand, towards the old white cliffs of England.
Sitting at home now, I am looking out the front window at the van parked on the street and I just want to kiss it! For all the adventures she’s already taken us on and all the adventures to come. Our home on wheels, our spare bedroom, our transporter, and our most cherished possession — how we love you!
See you in the next one.
Annabel x
Got to love a van and France !