We left Portsmouth at 8 am on a showery morning and set sail for the land of baguettes, wine and other lovely eatables (as well as many non edible delights).
Steaming out past Portsmouth naval dockyard, if you look carefully you can see Jeremy Corbyn, on that warship, waving goodbye to us. He was taking a few snaps in preparation for sticking a couple of old destroyers on to eBay ….. don’t think he’ll get much for that rather scabby ship in the foreground.
Brittany Ferries is French owned and a bit different to the Dover Calais ferry….I had braised guinea fowl and olives for lunch…yummy, while Nia chomped through a rack of lamb in Thyme sauce.
This is another on-board entertainment we have not seen before on a cross channel ferry. Sadly we docked at 3 pm so couldn’t attend, not that a few glasses of vino would have helped navigate Mavis off the ship.
I went to a very good talk on the Mary Rose which passed an hour or so, given by one of the curators. For those not around in Henry VIII’s time, the Mary Rose was a tudor warship which tipped over and sank in Portsmouth harbour whilst fighting those naughty French matelots. I bet a cry of ‘Bravo!’ went up. But I digress.
The nerd count on the ferry was low and only a small audience watched the talk. There were sadly no suggestions when we were asked what these artefacts were…we were too polite.
We arrived in Caen at 3pm, sailing in past Sword beach, the easternmost extent of the Normandy landings.
Here we are parked at the sharp end of the boat, as Nia, an experienced mariner who ought to know better, irritatingly describes it, about to drive off into France.
We drove down to Camping Pont Romaine, which is a campsite to the east of Le Mans, for the first night. The picture above is the Roman Bridge hinted at in the campsites name. It crosses the Sarthe, a tributary of the Loire, to the village of Yvré-L’Évêque. And there is no way we are going to be able to pronounce that until we have had a glass or two of vin rouge.
This is a pretty house we passed on the walk to the village (Sorry Liz…I know mon français est execrable).
Run out of rubbish to spout now…time to explore Yvré-L’Évêque.