France 90 - Bergerac, a gabarre, John Nettles and two bottles of rose wine

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It is that time of the trip when I think “hump”. We have reached the midway point and from now on it is only downhill all the way back to home. We are in that awful position of not knowing what to do next or where to head for. We have gained a couple of days and we always find ourselves wandering about trying to find interesting things to fill our time with. We are also mindful that we are still a long way from the tunnel and have to remember just how long it takes to traverse France. If we get it wrong we find ourselves too near with nothing to do or too far away and miss our connections.

So where did we find ourselves? Heading for Bergerac with the hope that the campsite we had chosen would prove a good one and that Bergerac would deliver . For those of a certain age the name Bergerac conjures up a young troubled detective living on his own but near his ex wife in Jersey. He spends his time solving all the crimes that befall that charming island of Jersey. The series went on for years with John Nettles playing the lead role. It was classic Sunday night easy watching drama . But I digress this Bergerac has nothing to do with Jersey or John Nettles. It is a or we hope it is going to be a pretty French town on the banks of the Dordogne with plenty to keep us amused for a day or two. A supermarket and a nice boulangerie and a good restaurant . Not much to ask for.

First stop find the supermarket . We set Sally Sat Nav for a whole range of them just outside the town in an industrial zone. We drove and drove and were followed all the way by another motorhome. It felt as if we were joined by elastic as at each corner or roundabout they clung to the back of us. 10 . 4 we had us a convoy. When we pulled into the Intermarche they were behind us. Obviously had the same idea of shopping heaven. A happy half hour was spent perusing the shelves and buying up the truly scrumptious cakes for tea. The fridge was heaving with goodies to last us a few days.

So we arrived in the town and entered over the Napoleon III bridge over the river after squeezing round the smallest flower filled roundabout you could ever imagine. Anything bigger would have had a tight fit to get round. Our destination the campsite Le Paleose . The site was mainly set to grass and was again gearing up to closing down for the season despite having a goodly number of caravans and motorhomes visiting. Reception was friendly, it was an ACSI site and we could park anywhere we liked. We found a spot under the trees between two Dutch caravanners with a view of the river. Shady but pleasant . This wasn’t a site for sun worshippers. We were greeted with a cheery “Hello you Brits ?, you don’t want to park there it is too dark” “ You will be better over here,more sun, your washing will dry and you will get WiFi”. There was no room but tomorrow he was leaving and if we wanted we could have his plot after he left. At that he, we never did find out his name left us to our chores of hooking up to electricity, charging phones and computers and getting the first load of washing on. Reality was despite the sunless position we did get the chairs out and I did dry two loads of washing over two days. The river that night looked beautiful as the sun went down. Initially it was golden and the leaves on the trees reflected the colour. As the sun went down it turned to shimmering silver. We watched kingfishers darting along the banks. Their blue wings stunning when they caught the light. We had bought an excellent bottle of rose from the supermarket and drank it as the sun went down. Two more in the fridge . This is a little piece of heaven. The showers were the best we have ever used . High praise indeed for this lovely campsite.

One of the reasons we chose it was its proximity to the town. Just a stones throw up the river bank and you are in town. We saw ducks and Canadian Geese along the way as we walked the towpath. The sun shone and the weather was set fair. The town was deserted and devoid of any life at 10 am. The cafes were shut. We walked along the quay which was being cleared of hay bales and huge planters from the previous weekends activities. There are some nice houses along the quay but nothing spectacular. Still the town had not come to life. We found tiny streets some with water features, others with interesting half timbered houses . There was a huge church but sadly locked until the afternoon. We tried to find the cloitre which we had read about but the signs petered out and all we could see what something to do with the route de vins. We did however then find a café opened for business. Two coffees grande to keep us going and two crepes. A touch rubbery as the proprietor had been cooking crepe after crepe and piling them high waiting for the tour bus to arrive. Which it did. We saw statues of Cyrano de Bergerac fictional and nothing to do with the town but hey so what you might as well cash in on him when he shares your name.

By now it was 10.45 – mission completed we had magnet and we had found the coffee shop. We had even found the cloitre eventually hidden behind the route de vins. Now that was a pretty little place hidden away but a little gem. So what next ? We had seen the gabarres on the river plying their trade whilst we had sat in Suzy. We read what Trip Advisor had to say and most people felt that it was a costly 50 minutes trip with little to recommend it . We had nothing more to see nor anything else pencilled in so what the hell. We headed for the quay and joined another couple waiting for the gabarre . These traditional boats were used to to transport goods along the river . Now they were being restored and used to ferry tourists along that same river. We were joined by a French and a Japanese couple.Our hostess arrived wearing black soft trainers, black tight tights, something that could have been a skirt or shorts and she sported bright red hair. With a smile she went to each and every one of us and said one word “Promenade”. To which we replied “Oui”

A few minutes later the chef de gabarre arrived and gave her a purse. She collected the 9 euros from us and rang her bell which heralded our trip on the boat. Once the boat started she came and asked us if we spoke English. She gave us a booklet which told us about the trip, what we were passing along the way and a little about the history of the boats. As we cast away she started her commentary in French but each few minutes she came to us and told us about the grain store, about the houses we were passing and the wildlife island. We told her we were parked there and she pointed out to the passengers the campsite and to much laughter showed them our motorhome. There were coypus in the river and large cat fish. Under the Napoleonic bridge we went, passed the remains of the medieval bridge,past a house designed by Corbusier. Onwards until we reached the reserve where the Black Kite live and turned round at the railway bridge built by Gustaf Eifell. Funny that we had been pondering on going to Paris if we got bored . Both of us had been before and with a few days in hand we thought we might take in the capital. That though is still in the planning and may or may not come off. As we got off we asked why her English was so good and she explained she had lived and worked in bars in London and went with no English at all. She said the easiest way to learn for her was to go and try. Then she spent a few years in Australia .

After the trip we walked back to the campsite. Sat by the river doing nothing but watching the boats and drinking quaffable wine. At 2.20 our new friend came past on her boat and with much smiling and waving we acknowledged each other . Like two ships in the night we met . We will never meet again but she made Bergerac a lovely experience for both of us. A little thing can make all the difference. We will never forget her.

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