French Passion - The farm of baby goats

From Plancoët, Le Tour departed and so did we.

An hour after the frenzy of the bikes and caravan of vehicles we were back on the road heading south east, it was as if nothing had happened, everything was back to normal, little traffic and very few people about... a big mystery .. where did they all go???

To get to our next destination we had a couple of options, a direct drive would take at least 6 hrs 30 with tolls and not stopping.

Noting the time estimated is driving at the maximum road speed, plus factoring in a break or two, it would have been closer to 8 hours drive, and leaving as we did at 15.00, this was not an option.

The key matter to consider was where would be to book for an overnighter, so the best alternative was to break the journey into two parts.

The quandary was how far should we travel on each part... we ended up opting to keep it a simple split of around 3 hours each day.

Just after 18.00 we arrived at a France Passion site at Saint Ouen en Belin, south of Le Mans, the FP site described as a "mini farm and vegetable garden".

As per the golden rule of FP, you should make yourself known to your hosts, however despite a good wander around no one was about, apart from some noisy goats and a few chickens.

I then tried to call the number at the entrance to no avail, hoping that my limited french would see me through, no answer. My next option was to send a WhatsApp, about 2 hours later I got a response, saying the husband would greet us in the morning, this was a comfort to know that they knew we were there and all would be fine, especially as we were the only people on site.

It was a nice evening, the sun went down over the big oak tree, giving us and Tassie some welcomed shade, the "facilities" as described suggested there was toilets and shower facilities. In fact it was two wooden 2 cubicles, the first a composting "long drop", the other a large bucket with standing water. Both options seemed less inviting, the local mozzie and fly brigade had set up their headquarters in the sheds... so limited use would be had if at all!

The goats were chatty and playful, one getting his head stuck in the fence, Jo attempted a rescue by explaining he needed to extract himself out of the pickle he had got into, it did not work, I guess his English was a little rusty. I opted for the physical assistance programme, and got hold of his head and horns, and eventually worked him free... I'm still not sure if he could have done it himself or if it was just an attention grabbing act on his behalf!

The night was peaceful and a good sleep was had until the pesky cockerel woke us up... he had his singing voice on and wanted to let everyone know... thankfully he was far enough away for it to be slightly muted, back to sleep came easy, finally waking up around 8.00.

Being mindful of the owner coming along as part of the deal of staying on their premises no one showed up, we hung about to round 9.45 before opting just to leave, we had a further 3 hour drive to make.

With no further rescues needing, we said goodbye to the chickens and goats and made our way back through the narrow country lanes to the main roads, just stopping at a local boulangerie for bread supplies for the later picnic area breakfast break.

Back to the toll roads we went, we would be meeting Jill at the next campsite at Lac Chambon, and as entry was from 15.00 onwards we would try to get there around then.

An hour into the journey we stopped (as has become a bit of a regular feature) for brunch at a picnic aire (a place of picnic benches, bins and toilets just off the main carriageway)... 11.30am and it's a cheese & crisp baguette and an Orangina... well we are on our holibobs!

It was also a handy place to dispose of the rubbish bag we had accumulated from dinner the previous evening.

For the first part of the drive I had opted to drive, so Jo was the designated "peage princess" taking the toll tickets from the passenger side window and putting through any card payments, depending on what toll booth we arrived at.

The was to be her first (and probably last) time as PP.... when she could not get the ticket to work, which would have provided the amount we had to pay for using that section of the motorway.

A few minutes of "its not working" and "the queue is building behind - oh dear".... or words to that effect, when a helpful toll assistant happened to walk past us en route elsewhere, Jo dutifully got her attention and passed on the task of sorting the ticket to her, which left her in a state of bafflement after a few goes of trying to remedy the situation.

Our helpful french toll assistant then pressed the intercom help button to talk to a colleague... we found it hard not to suppress a smile when they seemed to then get into an argument with each other... raised voices escalating, the gist of it being - no one could fathom why the ticket would not register!

A few minutes of back and forth and 7 euros later we were on our way.. barrier up ....we escaped the tense exchange... the queue behind probably quite relieved as well.

Reflecting a little later as we continued our drive, the ticket had been placed in the little shelf below the sat nav screen, which also doubles as a charging dock for phones.... perhaps this had demagnetised the ticket... we pondered ... another mystery of the day!

A changeover of driver at the next picnic aire, then another 2 hour drive, a supermarket at Clermont-Ferrand for needed supplies and a fill up of diesel, we were all set, almost at Lac Chambon....for a catch up with Jill for a couple of days and another chance to see Le Tour take on a mountain stage.

She had arrived just before us...Read more