There are few things more frustrating than making a plan. Deciding when or how to implement it, then only to see it get thwarted. Preparation, anticipation and hopes go to waste. Become hard for your ego to swallow. How you react can frustrate you, annoy you, or even annoy someone you’re with, just by how well, or not, you cope.
I’ve never found dealing with that type of frustrating situation easy to handle. At times in the past I would let it get under my skin. Fester and spoil the moment, or day. Find it difficult to shrug off. Motor-homing has helped to change that – mostly. The weather and other impromptu outside sources can sway their influence. Bend you this way or that, as easily as a sapling. ‘Go with the flow’ – my current rule of life.
Day 7 – Starts where it left off . . .
Half way along today’s planned route, paranoia strikes. Its unseen guillotine blade silently swoops down from above. Like a couple of headless chickens we’re unsure of which way to turn. Look to the heavens for an answer. Not a good idea. Pick Flower Camping L’lle d’offard, just outside Saumur. Importantly it sits to the west of the east moving front. More importantly, it’s renowned for its great wine!
As we approach Saumur, it’s clear we’re in a race. A massive grey and purple cloud conglomeration is gathering strength ahead. Ominously it hovers over the town and surrounding suburbs. Day starts to turn to night. From left to right, lightning dances behind the threatening curtain, and a thousand timpani pick up the beat. Out of nowhere, an invisible force joins the throng. Huge trees are bent low, as if the master and star of the show has just entered the room. The atmosphere is condensed into tiny droplets of anticipation. Held in abeyance by awe.
However, we’ve seen this show before. Don’t fancy a repeat. Eager to get pitched up as soon as possible. Preferably before the curtain goes up, or in this case, comes down.
Unexpectedly and frustratingly, we pull in behind a queue of camper-vans. All waiting their turn to register. As the first droplets announce the main act is about to start, a woman in light summer gear and carrying sunnies, quickly heads into reception. Mr S togs up in his anti-water garb. Keeps his quick drying flip-flops on. By the time he steps out, it’s as if he’s been transported to Mumbai during the height of monsoon season. He can barely squeeze between the stair-rods. It’s not a question of life or death; simply wet or wetter.
The short 10metre dash, or should that read splash, obviously unexpected. His grand entrance is received with a mixture of admiration and astonishment. Least of all by his flamboyant courtesy.
Duly signed in Mr S prepares to step out once again into the full-on raging torrent. Beastie is barely visible. “Excuse me. Sorry to ask. But do you have any room in your camper for me?” – it’s the woman with the sunnies. Mr S, typically slow on the uptake, immediately thinks she’s looking to shack up inside Beastie. Has she been abandoned and thrown out by her loathsome other half? The seconds of puzzlement spread across his face in a mosaic of bewilderment. “It’s only that I see you’ve been allocated 45 and we’re pitched up really close to you. If it’s not too much trouble, can I cadge a lift?”
Day 8 – It’s dry. Château de Saumur is destined to be given the cold shoulder. Despite its pretty proximity. We’re off in search of something much more butch.
So we head off to the far side of town. Across river. Our site sits on a small island in the middle of the Loire. It’s Sunday. No busses. No room on the muddy pitch to exit Scoot. We become a couple of piétons
We spend two hours inside one of the largest tank museums in the world – the Musée des Blindés. A chronological tourway from WW1 through virtually every war campaign up to present day. All information in clear English.
A couple of our quirky favourites were these small amphibious creatures.
Our walk back to base camp takes us past one of these. An underground recycling collection centre for the local community. Each top connected to its cavernous cave below.
