“Huttopia” is a form of camping Utopia – or is supposed to be. And that’s where we are today. Well, at least at one of the group’s sites based at Ounans “La Plage Blanche”. Delightful riverside pitch. Close to good cycling and scooting. Close to nature – but more of that to come.
This site is huge. Six hundred and forty three paces to the Poubelles, (one way) Most people get around the site on their bike. There are tenters, caravanners, MOHOmers and a few sneaky motorbikers, who set up camp late evening and whizz off early morning before reception is open.
Arriving nice and early, we break free the bikes and head off into the nearest forest. The New Forest like track gives us a homely feeling, but soon runs out. We’re now bouncing downhill like billy-o through a closed in and denser part, on a parched dry single rut that looks as if a one wheeled tractor wheelied this way one very rainy day. A couple of seriously narrow sections later and Mary-Ann says nothing. She knows I love this sort of challenging terrain. She hates to be a killjoy, but I have to be sensible. It was a good ride though.
When you are hungry and thirsty, there are few combinations that better a cool glass of milk and chocolate digestive. Now I’m a little older, perhaps red wine and beef tipple the scale. Two good reasons to scoot over to nearby Arbois. An i-pad directed guided tour of Louis Pasteur’s home and working laboratory gives us an insight into his genius.
I forgot to mention that it seems to be haymaking season around here. The other side of those trees on the opposite river bank is a farm. The wind blows our way. We lived in the Cotswolds for five years in the late seventies (20th century). Fabulous area. Not if you suffer from hayfever. Mary-Ann does. Badly. She would do the gardening then wearing a “Planet of the Apes” look alike face mask, but white. Like the ones you see Japanese wearing today. She’s had a terrible night and is feeling worse than groggy. She needs sea air. We decide to cut short our stay and head to the Med.