With our weather compass pointing one way, then the other, we decide to leave it spinning on its own axis, as we head east and plant roots for a few days.
Day 15 – 102k is today’s calculated trip. Ample time for an en-route Carrefour top up. A mix of solid and liquid food gets tucked away. As temperatures soar and clouds clear, the decision to drop anchor is an easy one. Saint Martin Camping, 4k short of Millau, our new calm harbour, for a few nights.
Owned, run and massively improved by Jérôme & Laetitia since 2017, it’s a camp site more than worthy of its five star rating. Not least because of their friendliness and attention to detail. It’s not often, as in never, that an owner will greet you by your Christian name and enquire “Is everything OK, Brian?”
The afternoon is actually spent in total relaxion poolside. Like a couple of Birds Eye fish fingers we horizontally sizzle for a couple of hours. Aim to turn golden brown and not too crispy. Occasionally go warm up the pool.
Day 16 – An extremely cold single figure start to the day. All campers, well, those that are up and about at just gone 8.30am, are all togged up in jerkins, sweatshirts and joggers. We have to remember we’re an hour ahead, so it’s really 7.30am temperature wise. Plus, the site sits surrounded by high cliffs, so hours of daylight are foreshortened too. The sun sleeps in until 10am and says night-night at 5.30pm.
Two weeks on the road with two weeks left means it’s time to wash the bed linen. While the duvet covers hang about sunbathing, we make use of the under-cover and shady table-tennis table.
Then, with a cloudless blue above, yesterday’s afternoon is duplicated to a T, as 2 cheeses slowly melt like a couple of Welsh Rarebits.
At one point, a couple of loudmouthed Dutch couples annoyingly spend their time standing in the pool, or sitting on the edge, feet dangling, as if being pedicured by a shoal of Garra rufa. They vociferously exchange travel stories. [Mr S knows this to be fact, because although he doesn’t speak a word of Dutch, he does understand the words, Greece, Norway, Copenhagen, Madrid, Barcelona et al.]
A proud Welsh couple, well into their 60s, frequent poolside too. They take pride in telling anyone who may be interested, that they are Welsh. The Michelin Man shaped wife must think she’s a Welsh Rarebit too. Takes pride in going topless. Her folds of fat present a severe visual challenge. It’s difficult to establish which bits are boobs and which are belly. Only a more discerning and gifted Renaissance painter may have been capable of deconstructing this abstract image. Understandably, her husband places himself some distance apart. Only coming together when she enters the pool ‘covered’.
Day 17 – With our sunny afternoon of guilty pleasure earmarked, and before the temperature sky-rockets, we make the decision to go do a bit of hill climbing. We’re based in the middle of the Regional Parc des Grands Causses, so no excuse. Mr S plots a route with his favourite app ‘Plotaroute’. Its a short and doable wiggly 3.6K with a 40% gradient at one section. A total ascent of 197metres at its highest point of 594 meters – the perfect calf, knee and thigh workout.
2.5 hours later and back at base camp we indulge in more of the same. TT, Connect 4, and by now, you know what . . .
