LAST TIME WE BOARDED THIS FERRY we had to dash for it all the way from La Rochelle, (in Spring) then queue a while to board… but today it was but a few minutes from our overnight resting place to reach the embarkation point. Nevertheless we didn't think we'd make the early boat after all as it was earlier than we had anticipated (seasonal timetable change), so didn't try, just tootled along the sea fronts indicating this feature or that to Dr G, wondering if and where we might find our customary starter for the day in a rather sleepy Sunday morning Royan. Just checking the ferry times as we were in the offing of the embarkation point… oh look, there is the early ferry, not yet slipped its moorings… so by the skin of our dentures and with only minimal haste, we were last on… before we could collect our sou'westers and clamber out of the motor, we were gliding across to Pointe de Grave: saving ourselves an hour or two of heel-kicking in fair Royan, don't you know! Croissants on board (and better than last time) coffee piping chaud aussi albeit in paper cups.
An odd way to proceed to Condom, you might opine. Yes, maybe so but we like to do the unusual, wanted to share a bit of forest and brine with our passenger, and had high expectations on the sandwich front. The original strategy for this day (and all the other stages of this journey south) have been revealed and no doubt assimilated by my more attentive blog-fan in an earlier pre-travel posting.
I noted in my log:
'… Phare Richard visited. Coffee break at Marcheprime. Excellent sandwiches obtained at latter – eaten at Bazas. Then visited the round bastide village of Fources (not visited before, in this life at least) and an uncomfortably busy Larressingle (visited many years ago when it was almost deserted and not developed to assuage the appetites of the motoring tourist).
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| Larressingle, the quiet side |
*The hotel (The Continental by name, you may have heard of it) was somewhat over-patronised by a large group of rather 'loud' types, obviously on some sort of up market cultural excursion. Not riffraff you understand, but persons who I am sure ordinarily would be almost interesting people to have a conversation with (this might not have been the majority view at our table, I didn't put it to a vote) but on this occasion, they did somewhat act as though other guests, such as ourselves were simply not present. Or were in their way. Or were of no consequence. Or were in awe of their international and cosmopolitan stature.
They piped down a bit once the hotel staff had shepherded them to their excessively long table and laid their chosen dishes before them (all hands to the pumps for this operation, I'm not sure some of the more timorous guests weren't enlisted to carry in the seemingly endless array of variations on a theme, from the set menu ordered in advance). Prior to all that, a group of women (they were all of the fairer sex although the troupe was mixed in other parts of the dining room) of a certain age and several national origins, I shall be no more specific than that, saw fit to stand around so close to our table, swapping tales of their escapades, their household staff etc., so loudly that no detail could have been missed by anyone save the extreme hard-of-hearing. I feared I might have to urge Mme M to speak, nay protest to the manager on the subject! But luckily the matter resolved itself and we were able to finish our meal in something approaching normality.
