Back to the Avenue Verte

Today proved that during a pandemic it is unwise to have expectations, even modest ones. We moved a few kilometres around the estuary to Saint-Valery-sur -Somme. Gill was looking forward to lunch at Sel et Sucres, the only place we know outside of Brittany itself that manages to serve authentic crepes and galletes. As for me, I was looking forward to a bike ride on the cycle trail towards Le Crotoy on the other side of the bay.

We had not reckoned on how busy the Baie de Somme would be, which we should have given it was the middle of August and this weekend coincided with the Feast of the Assumption bank holiday. Though the Saint Valery aire had capacity for a hundred motorhomes we squeezed onto one of the last places. It was about a 15 minute walk from there to the town centre. The creperie was at the far end of the main street giving us plenty of time to realise there was a bit of a scrum to find a lunch spot. The town was heaving, cafes and restaurants had reduced seating inside and out to comply with rules on social distancing. Also, the majority of places were sticking doggedly to the hallowed French convention of lunch service being limited to a two hour slot starting at midday. The result, more people were being turned away than accommodated, and one sensed a burgeoning existential crisis among 'the people' for whom a missed lunch can trigger a sense of impeding societal collapse. Gill too was struck by 'tristesse générale'. She had been avidly anticipating an authentic crêpe for days, when it became clear there was no table available at Sel et Sucres for the rest of the afternoon she became uncharacteristically sad. 

The aire at Saint Valery is some distance from the Baie de Somme cycleway, and given that the town was traffic choked we didn't fancy playing chicken with the cars. Instead we drove a few kilometres around the bay to Le Crotoy in the hope that the aires there which adjoined the track would have spare places. They didn't. It was becoming annoying. Why were we doing this? Even though we had booked our Covid antigen tests locally in a pharmacy in Le Crotoy for next Monday, we decided the area was just too busy, and likely to get impossibly crowded over the weekend, so we headed back down the motorway to Neufchatel-en-Bray and booked into Camping St. Claire for three nights. 

It proved exactly the right thing to do. The site itself is on the edge of town next to the Avenue Verte, about fifteen miles further inland from where we had camped a couple of days previously. We know the area well because the adjacent aire managed by the site is a favourite overnight stop on our longer trips.

The next few days were sunny and warm, picture book France. The site is impeccably kept, hedges neatly trimmed and the flower beds quite spectacular.

The first day we cycled up the Bethune valley towards Forges-les-Eaux, we did not make it the whole way as we had planned to have lunch at the café in the old station at Neufchatel-en-Bray.

 

The place advertised that it specialised in crêpes,  so Gill did get the one she'd promised herself in the end. Though it was a good attempt, not exactly right. Crêpes beyond the Breton border are a bit like pasties outside Cornwall, they never taste the same. The crêpes in  Saint-Valery-sur-Somme are the exception, they are so good because the owner is Breton. 

We decided that difference was not only about knowhow and technique but also using the correct ingredients. Although the cafe in Neufchatel had used the correct buckwheat batter mix the decision to use a Normandy soft cheese rather than the usual harder Emmenthal used in Brittany may have been the reason why the dish, though delicious, did not taste authentic. We have to go back to Brittany we agreed.

We woke the next morning to one of those glorious midsummer days in France with a deep blue, cloudless sky, and a scintillating light that makes the green and yellow patchwork of the fields vibrant, as if the landscape itself is a living thing. 

We were on a mission. The day after we arrived we had cycled southwards from Camping Deux Rivières on the Avenue Verte to the village of Saint-Vaast-d'Équiqueville. Today we aimed to head back there from Neufchatel, so completing the section of the trail between here and the coast. 

Although the temperature had hit the upper twenties by noon, on a bike you don't really feel it, you make quick enough progress to create your own air conditioning. Just how hot it was only struck us when stopped to take photos, which we did quite often, it's a very beautiful small valley, with pretty villages and a Chateau at  Mesnières-en-Bray which would not look out of place by the Loire.

We stopped for lunch at Saint-Vaast-d'Équiqueville. The trail has lots of picnic spots along the way. Every commune seems to take pride in maintaining them, keeping the grass short, the bins empty and placing flower filled planters here and there. 

Then back up the trail, arriving back at the van mid-afternoon. We'd cycled 23 miles, it's been a while since we have managed that sort of distance, admittedly the trail is dead flat and well surfaced and we were riding electric bikes, but still, it must be good for us.

Anyway, all this exertion totally justified doing very little else for the rest of the day. It was a put your feet up sort of afternoon. Almost perfect, but then I don't really believe in perfection so I do feel I have to point out today's minor glitches:

1. A yellow engine warning light has appeared on the dashboard. The handbook says it's a fuel injection malfunction and something to get fixed sometime soon rather than rather than a warning of immediate mechanical failure. I still think the engine might explode every time I turn the ignition key 

2. The hot, dry sunny spell has prompted every arable farmer in the north of France to take to their combine harvesters, they are working in shifts, by day you see them toiling up and down half hidden in a plume of dust, nightfall brings no relief, as we lie in bed we can hear their engines thrumming. The noise is not the problem, it's the dust, the particles must be tiny because you can't see them, but our eyes are streaming, I keep coughing, it's worse than either April blossom or hay fever.

3. The Cadac Safari Chef burner fell to bits this afternoon. They appear to have about a three year life span, this is the second one we've had since we began our wandering life in 2014. At £135 a shot that's not great value for money. Luckily you can buy spare parts, but a new burner costs £50, grumble, grumble...

Ah well, it's much too lovely an evening to bother about such things...time for a glass of wine and an antihistamine.