May 26th: The Dordogne to Brittany

We left Brantôme for Dinan in Brittany, a distance of 350 miles and do-able in a day as it’s mainly motorway. The site at Dinan is two miles outside the town, near the river Rance estuary, and you can walk along the river path (see photo) to the Port of Dinan and then up into the town.

Dinan is on the high ground overlooking the river, so it’s a steep climb up a cobbled street to what is reputedly the best-preserved medieval town in Brittany. This is part of the ascent.

There are superb views from the ramparts because of the town’s elevation, and looking down over the river is one of the best. The river is tidal up to here although about 15 miles from the open sea, and the quays have an interesting mix of sea, river and canal boats.

The difference in building styles from the Dordogne, that we’ve just left, is very noticeable. Here it’s steep pitched slate roofs as opposed to terracotta tiles, and more angular buildings. That style applies to old and new structures alike, although the ancient buildings take a better photo so that’s what we’ve got below as an example.

The Place du Guesclin commemorates the town’s hero Bertrand du Guesclin who fought a single combat with an English knight in 1364. By winning the duel, Bertrand lifted the siege of the town. He later became Constable of France. Seems a big patch for just one constable, but we are talking medieval heroes here not today’s Dixon of Dock Green burdened with modern technology.

May 22nd-25th: Here and There

Not far from Brantôme is the village of St Jean de Côle. The centre still retains a medieval appearance and atmosphere. You feel you are stepping back in time. The old bridge has the original cobblestone surface as you can see from the photo, but look carefully at the stones and see how lumpy they are. This makes them quite uncomfortable to walk over, even wearing modern footwear: a small reminder of the realities of life long ago that it’s easy to overlook when visiting these idyllic places.

The whole area is just countryside, at its most lush at this time of the year. Occasionally you discover something that you haven’t seen for years or even since childhood. The next picture is one of these- a clump of wild strawberries, with one nearly ripe.

Our rambles around also included one very sobering moment. We came across the monument shown below in a clearing, beautifully tended. It commemorates, on the 26th March 1944, the execution by SS firing squad of 26 local men as a reprisal for an attack by the Resistance on a German general’s car. The obelisk lists each name on the pillar. The setting exudes tranquillity but at the same time is a powerful inducement to reflect on that awful scene of March 1944. It would be comforting to think that the collective effect of memorials to such atrocities would influence future conduct, but history, past and recent, appears to indicate otherwise.

May 22-25th: Good Bugs and Bad Bugs

This is a handsome unidentified beetle about an inch long highlighted by the bright white limestone.

We are seeing many dragonflies, hatched by the sudden warmth. This one has an iridescent blue body and brown wings.

Now for the villains. Superficially the bush looks quite attractive, a kind of hoar- frosty look with all those “cobwebs” spun in the branches. They aren’t cobwebs, but caterpillar cocoons, and the bush is dead. The caterpillars hatch out and simply eat the bush. The caterpillars themselves are to be avoided as they can eject fine hairs when agitated which, if inhaled, cause a lung reaction that can be debilitating in humans and fatal in dogs. Apparently there’s an epidemic of these creatures in parts of Europe- and we saw lots of these cocoons in Spain, particularly in pine trees. There’s no real remedy unless you spray all the trees in Europe.

Having built up these creatures into nightmare proportions, here’s a (carefully taken) photo of one of the hatched-out cocoons. That’s Jane’s finger, and you can send her get-well-soon cards and flowers to Brantôme hospital. Joking, of course!

May 22nd: A Strange Wedding

We decided to visit Perigueux, the main town in the area via the scenic route. One stop was Bourdeilles, a picturesque village astride Brantôme’s river, the Dronne. We parked the car and walked towards the Mairie (Town Hall), where the ancient bridge crossed river. In front of the Mairie, a wedding party was assembling and, as you do, we stopped to do some rubbernecking.

On closer inspection, this appeared to be no ordinary wedding. Lots of hippy style outfits, and men in dresses. Next photo sums up our tentative conclusions- were we witnessing an all-male ceremony?

Disappointment really, because a conventional bride and groom have now appeared, alighting from the red Citroen Diane in the background. Bride kisses everyone in sight; intended spouse looks bored, hands on hips; and official with sash (Registrar?) beams good-naturedly but smile turning into grimace by the minute. Perhaps we were witnessing the norm for weddings in France these days. Qui sait?

We did actually come to see the village- so here it is. One photo of the river and one of the castle. Very pretty.


We drove through some beautiful rolling countryside on the way to Perigueux, and photos couldn’t do it justice, so you haven’t got any. The centre of Perigueux is elegant, with narrow alleys, lovely stone buildings and expensive, designer clothes shops. Par for the course. The town’s most unusual feature is the cathedral, dedicated to St. Front (was there also a St. Back?). It’s large, very white and features many domes, and is quite bare inside. It would have been a 12th century wonder, but has been remodelled so many times that there’s not much left of the original 12th century structure, apart from keeping roughly to the original concept. The final reconstruction, started in 1852, was directed by an architect called Abadie. He was so taken with the general appearance that he used the same format to design the Sacré Coeur church in Paris. My photo is taken from the wrong side to see all the domes, but you can get the definitive image from any guidebook on the region or the internet.

May 19th: Brantôme

We left Tarragona on 17th May, following the coast motorway across the Pyrenees and into France. Continuing on the motorway, at Narbonne you either turn right for Provence or left for Bordeaux and the Atlantic coast. We turned left, and half way to Bordeaux we headed up through the Dordogne region, much loved by the Brits, and made for the town of Brantôme. Most small towns in the Dordogne are very picturesque and Brantôme is no exception, as per photos below.



However, the local tourist board do go a bit OTT. Brantôme is built on an island in the river, so the river flows all around it, but that hardly merits their logo description of the town as the “Venice of the Dordogne”!
The campsite is on the edge of town, by the river, and beautifully sectioned into large individual grass pitches. Since arriving, the temperature has steadily risen. However, that hasn’t stopped us getting about, as next entries show.

May 12th-17th: Tarragona

Javea to Tarragona is around 230 miles, not a huge distance, but there’s a slight change in climate: it’s a little cooler. The site is about 5 miles from Tarragona, on a headland with direct access to the sandy beach. One standard holiday beach photo coming up.
Being a beach site, it’s really geared for the summer holidays, when the prices soar. In common with most campsites, they offer 30% to 50% off-peak discounts to attract the limited supply of clients.
Even better, from the campers’ angle, many sites participate in the ACSI scheme. This offers even larger out-of-season discounts. To obtain these special prices campers need to buy the ACSI book (£11.50) that contains a list of all member sites and also a membership card. Then, all you do when booking in, is to produce your card and that entitles you to your pitch + 2 people + electricity for €15, 13 or 11 per night, depending on the site’s facilities. The site here was €15, having all the trimmings, but bearing in mind the high season charge would be €42, that’s a big saving. Most campers we know are members, as we ourselves are. It’s the best of both worlds, as we wouldn’t want the crowds and noise of peak season anyway. So here is our peaceful pitch featuring peaceful Jane.

Tarragona became the most important Roman town in Spain, but with roots going back even further. There is a well-preserved amphitheatre, roman walls and some restored buildings from that period, and a forum. There are also many grand medieval structures but I am often drawn to the smaller items like this ancient water trough, below, that bears a resemblance to a sad frog.

Following on the theme that small is beautiful, this carving from the external wall of the cathedral is wonderfully detailed and lifelike. Larger carved figures are often less intricate and look fairy wooden, perhaps because of time and therefore cost considerations, so some of these little pieces are artistic gems. Large sculptures do come into their own, in wealthy cities e.g. Rome, where they could afford the best craftsmen like Michelangelo.

May 10th: The Guitar Maker

In a one of the Granada blogs I described walking through “Guitar Street” and admiring the flamenco guitars in the windows of the closed shops. On another day the shops were open and I went in to have a closer look and try one. It had a nice tone, but was it worth the money? Unsure, I left it.

But the idea of buying a flamenco guitar in Spain grew on me, and with the internet to help research what would be worth buying, I came up with the Burguet Guitar factory in Valencia. Here’s a picture from their website featuring Amalio Burguet, the master craftsman himself: probably as substantial as Mr Kipling, I thought, but good marketing.



They had replied to my email a few weeks previously to say that they do sell direct from the factory, so as Valencia is only an hour away from Javea, off we went to have a look. Little problem: haven’t brought the camera. The factory address was in a busy industrial complex on the outskirts of Valencia. No quirky little cottage industry here, but a modern medium sized unit that looked neat, tidy and wholesome externally, and had their business been in food products, you would have been happy to sample their pork pies.

We press the bell and are admitted by automatic door, revealing a stairs that indicates the direction of travel. So up we climb. The air is full of the aroma of wood and glue. I now have to take back all my Mr Kipling comparisons, because, rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, we come face to face with Amalio Burguet himself – instantly recognisable from the internet publicity. We are welcomed in and his daughter shows me the guitars I am interested in. One in particular appeals. It has a lovely tone, and at something like half the retail shop price.

Fortunately for me, another customer also in the showroom happens to be an ace flamenco guitarist. He has been playing amazing pieces all the time we’ve been there. Well, if you don’t ask…
He’s very amenable and takes my short-listed guitar, launching into some unbelievably intricate flamenco. He pronounced the guitar perfectly satisfactory. After that it was a done deal, and Jane bought it for me. You can see below it is a beautiful instrument, and I am delighted with it, but this may not be the sentiment of the neighbouring campers!