There is a simple reason why we haven't taken to the by-roads of bonny Scotland or driven to see the midnight sun at Nordcapp. One of the delights of motorhoming for months on end is being able to live outside. It only takes three rainy days in a row and cabin fever sets in, and our 7 x 2.3 metre metal box becomes more like a big hutch than a small house. Consequently our travels over the past dozen or so years mainly have been through Europe's sunnier climes, apart from a springtime trip to Scandinavia in 2019, and a moment of weakness a couple of years later when erroneously we decided that Ireland might be an interesting place to visit.
The challenges this year have been significantly different. Earlier in the year our habitual late winter trip to Iberia was not unusual, zigzagging our way around the peninsula trying to find the sunniest spots, keeping a 'weather eye' on Met Eireann's Atlantic pressure charts, which are the best weather graphics we have found; they provide an animated summary of the meteorological big picture for Europe's western seaboard from Tromso to Gibraltar.
Since then we have had a different challenge weatherwise. Weeks of wall to wall blue would be ideal great had the endless sunny days not been accompanied by daytime temperatures well into the thirties followed by tropical nights. Even with all the windows and skylights fully open, the van doesn't cool down, we spend hours squirreled under the awning rather than getting out and about.
In May we went long haul simmering in the humidity of Hong Kong and Tokyo; in late June and early July we boiled in the Czech Republic, then arrived home to an unprecedented heatwave. September and October are usually a pleasant time to travel in southern Europe, daytime temperatures in the high twenties are not uncommon, but nights dip down into the mid-teens, so you get comfortable sleep.
Not so this year, the whole time we were in the camping municipal at Loupian by the Etang Thau daytime temperatures were well into the thirties by late morning and struggled to drop into the teens overnight.
It's a lovely corner of France and under blue skies it looks captivating. However simply mooching about wasn't an option, in extreme heat the minutiae of everyday existence needs to be carefully pre-planned.
The nearby town of Meze has a traditional market twice a week on Thursdays and Sundays. It's a popular thIng for locals and tourists alike, and because it closes on the dot at noon we managed a visit on both days before the heat became unbearable.
A cycleway connects Meze to the villages to by the Etang to the east. Formerly it was a narrow gauge railway built to take the Etang de Thau's famous oysters to market.
The railway is long gone but the oyster trade is flourishing. We cycled to nearby Bouzigues. The village is a major producer of oysters and mussels. It looked to us that the beds had grown significantly since we were last here two years ago.
The place itself is a classic southern French village with a tangle of narrow streets leading up from the waterfront to the church and small square at its centre. It's a place with a singular mission- oysters! This gives it a purposeful atmosphere, it's not simply a tourist trap like so many places on France's Mediterranean littoral.
The boulangerie in the centre of the village is an excellent example of a local family run business that produces traditional bread, croissants and cakes. These used to be ubiquitous, but less so these days, so it's always a moment to savour when serendipitously you happen upon one.
The heat mades it more comfortable to cycle than to walk. Getting to and from Bouzigues along the cycle track was almost pleasant. The narrow streets on the village had plenty of shade too, but the heat was brutal.
As soon as we sat down on a seat with a view of the Etang de Thau to consume the pain chocolats we had just bought we began to bake. We scooted back to the campsite to finish our lunch beneath the awning.
A waterbus runs across the Etang from Meze to Sete, operating from mid-May to mid-September. We've used it before and enjoyed stopping for lunch in a small café near Sete market. The place specialises in different types of coffee and makes a bit of a thing about reinventing the humble 'croque'. For some reason the place opted to name their elevated toasties after sex bombs of Hollywood's golden age. Previously I'd gone for the 'Rita Haywood', and being a creature of habit probably would do so again.
We figured that the 20 minute boat trip across the Etang would be cooling on a hot day. Sadly we forgot the waterbus had a glass roof. The temperature, tropical at the outset, became equatorial before were were halfway across.
It's about a twenty minute walk from the pier where the waterbus docks to our lunch spot in Rue Alsace Lorraine, a small street near Les Halles de Sete. We stuck to the shady side of the streets, the shadows were jagged edged and the temperature intolerable in the sun.
Sete is unexpectedly grand for a medium sized port, with tree-lined boulevards of elegant Art Nouveau buildings which wouldn't look out of place in Paris's 16th Arrondissement.
The area we headed for was not so grand, but attractive nonetheless, a grid of more modest streets below the woods of Mont Sant-Claire, the cone shaped hill in the centre of Sete - one of a series of ancient volcanic outcrops which punctuate the expansive salt flats that stretch the length of Languedoc's coastline.
We arrived in the right area but couldn't find the exact spot. It took us a while to work out that the name of the café was different on Google maps to the sign over the door - anyone looking for the place listed on Google as 'Tatie Cherry' will struggle, the sign above the door remains the same as the previous two times we have been here - Torrefaction Noailles
By now it was a little after 1.30pm, the tables outside were all taken, but one place was available inside. By the time our food arrived the place was more or less empty. The idea of eating lunch at 1.45pm would seem very weird to a French person, but we're not French so we don't care.
I do love this informal little cafe, it feels a bit 'rive gauche' and bohemian, a bit chaotic, but the food is exceptional for such a workaday place.
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As predicted I found myself slowly devouring Rita Hayworth who turned out to be just as delicious as my previous attempt.
You have a choice of legendary Hollywood vamps on a plate, Le Rita Hayworth features chorizo & poivrons, Le Veronika Lake contains jambon cru, mozzarella & parmesan. The inference is that Rita was hotter than Veronica; that seems debatable to me.
What it does reveal is that the Metoo movement never quite achieved the same traction in France as in other Western countries. Aside from gender politics, I don't think it's feels right to name dishes after people, unless the name memorialises the chef who created the dish in the first place. Otherwise it seems a little cannibalistic.
Last time we were in Sete we managed to catch the 3pm waterbus back to Meze. Maybe we've relaxed even more these days, it was apparent that by the time we'd settled-up at the cafe catching the mid-afternoon boat was going to be tricky. Making a dash for it wasn't an option, with temperatures in the mid thirties anything quicker than an amble risked heat stroke.
The later boat was at 5pm, meaning we had over two hours to spend somewhere else in Sete. We decided to walk towards the fishing port on the seaward side of the town. We tried to stay in the shadows but that wasn't always possible.
Then we found a shadier way back to the waterbus pier using the narrow backstreets behind the port
The area was more characterful and multicultural than the Parisian looking boulevards around Avenue Victor Hugo. Sete has ferry links to Morocco and Algeria. When we first visited the town in the early noughties the Arabic connection was quite evident. It seems more mixed now, with as many people of West African heritage as Algerian.
With half an hour or so to spare before we needed to be back at the quayside, we found a shady cafe and ordered a couple of beers. We talked through what next. According to France Meteo and Aemet, the Spanish weather service, the heatwave seems to have set in for the next couple of weeks.
The coolest place we have is when we are driving with the cab aircon on full blast. Let's head for Spain we decided, it may well be just as hot on the Costa Brava but at least it will be a comfortable drive there.
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