words by Williams

Friday May 12

We’ve managed to find a pitch at a site on the south coast of Brittany at Damgan, which is another pretty hefty trip, but well worth it as it turns out.

First, Cal wants to visit Mont Saint Michel, so off we trot. We pass through the pretty town of Beauvoir, making note of it’s impressive Aire and heading for the Mont Saint Michel car park, duly signposted out of town.

Have you seen the Mont Saint Michel car park? It’s literally a park and ride. The car park’s here and Mont Saint Michel is tantalisingly visible, shimmering distantly in the next county. The queue for the shuttle bus is about 300 yards long. We decide to give it a miss and keep rolling through.

It’s a very big, very well ordered car park. But that’s all I have to say about that.

Beauvoir’s lovely, by the way. We stop for a croissant and a coffee and finish them sitting outside a pleasant little boulangerie where the lady who served us clearly enjoyed our Franglais with added hand signals.

Long trip short, we’ve arrived in Damgan at Camping Grand Air Cadu which promises us spacious fully-serviced pitches and proximity to the beach. They say 300m, but we think they must have long legs.

They claim only three stars on their website, but actually, it’s great and delivers on all fronts. We’re pleased to have booked a three-night stay, which at least keeps me out of the driving seat for a couple of days. It reminds us of the Morris Leisure sites in the UK.

Cal’s initially sceptical about the claims of proximity to the beach, until we find it - exactly as advertised a long, sweeping golden sandy beach at the very top of the Bay of Biscay. 

We’re at one end of it and Damgan town is at the other. It’s a good walk away, but it does wonders for your daily step count.

Arriving at the time we did meant much of the place was shut. Luckily the pub/restaurant Le Galion wasn’t. Alcohol was drunk. We chilled.

Saturday May 13

Damgan looks like a holiday town. It has many neat creamy-white painted houses that look like they’re second homes. But where the town was empty yesterday, it’s buzzing today. 

The Saturday morning market pretty much fills the town centre with everything from fresh fruit and veg, meat and poultry to clothes and more. Suddenly, there are people everywhere, too.

We wander around with no particular purpose other than to look.

Turning a corner, we arrive at a stall with a young man, probably in his mid-20s selling clothes. He must have 15-or-so rails, including what for Cal at least, were some eye-catching stretchy culotte thingies in many colours.

She likes them for the colours and the stretchiness, but she’s not sure of sizes.

The guy obligingly googles the conversion from European to UK sizes. Cal’s still not sure of the fit. He points to the back of his van, “to try”. Cal laughs and declines. She buys a snazzy red pair.

Heading back vaguely towards the beach, we’re forced to pass Le Galion again. Or not, as it happens. 

The place is full and we just manage to get a table on the terrace, beer and wine is drunk. A group of ladies turn up to kisses all round from the lady we assume is the owner. They order something exotically pink and fizzy in what looks like a small vase which sits in a curly metal stand.

Cal needs one. Turns out it’s a Kir in Cremant. Very lovely and suitably expensive.

My eye is taken by the hat stall opposite. They’re shutting up shop for the day, so there’s just time for a squint. I don’t need a hat, but those patchwork ones with the cork peak are too tempting. They look quirkily French, but are in fact Italian. Again, ace but expensive. Of course I buy one. Will I ever wear it in public?

Sunday May 14

A day for chilling in Damgan. I walk into town, mainly for the exercise but also because we need water. Funny how much you worry about water when you’re touring and try never to be without it. The little supermarket in the centre of town is open for the morning. I get the water and a bottle of wine, forget the obligatory baguette and set about trying to find the town’s one cash machine.

After a circuit of the town centre, I find it about 50 metres from the supermarket in the one place I hadn’t looked. The day is hot and I have to walk home. On the seafront a refreshment truck is just opening, so I buy walking water.