Anytime between 12noon and 4pm can be a complete shutdown, down here. They like their lunch-breaks – big-time. With a climate like this can’t say I blame them. Seems they’re all on a permanent holiday with a paying job thrown in as a bonus.
So arriving at 1.30pm to a deserted reception at La Garde-Freinet camp site shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise. We decide to have a shaded lunch before looking around the facilities. This area hasn’t seen rain for months. Very dusty pitches and blowy. No go area for Mary-Ann. We head into Le Lavandou on the coast.
The site is vertically and horizontally challenging even for large caravans. Every pitch designated with two thick tree sentinels, forming US grid style avenues of accidents waiting to happen. Thick low slung arms ready to catch and scratch any driver not up to the mark. Me and Beastie are about to get pasted. We choose our spot and go for it, very cautiously. 30 metres in I wander slightly off centre and wedge Beastie up against a nine inch thick branch. A dutch couple aware of our predicament, kindly try to assist. She gets a step and he tries out his newly practised Tarzan act by hanging off the branch in the vain hope it’ll give a little and free Beastie. He could have done with Cheetah’s help, or maybe not. Nothing gave. A little jigory pokey of the minisculest of to-ing and fro-ing and Beastie’s free and none the worse for wear. However, can’t get him onto the pitch we’ve chosen. Not enough turning room. We choose another and the best we can do is park up diagonally. All very strange. At least we did Pythagoras proud. Mary-Ann was too fraught to take photos. Leaving day should be fun!