It's a strange feeling to stand on the same beach again, just outside the walls of La Rochelle, after perhaps 17 years. I remember from that day at the seaside the masses of boats sailing in the bay. Then it was the middle of summer but the picture is little different today - even on a cold, grey wednesday afternoon I can count more than 70 boats milling around - quite impressive really. I had intended to stop at Arcachon, halfway between St-Jean and La Rochelle, but realising I'd have to get to Bordeaux and then backtrack down the same line to get there didn't inspire me, so straight to La Rochelle it was. Not that it was that straight forward - missing the connecting train by 10 seconds in Bordeaux meant a bit of
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