After the delight of finding Lobby the Lobster in our tent, we thought we’d have a day off at the beach. We packed up and left the posh lakeside campsite in our beach clothes. Swimming pool rules in France prohibit boardshorts so Nev was now sporting a sexy pair of Super U’s finest Daniel Craig-esk Arribas two-stripe trunks.
Before hitting the beach, we decided to find a slightly crappier, non-5-star and therefore inevitably cheaper campsite further down the road, but it wasn’t to be.
We joined the Eurovelo 1 route and started pedalling to the next campsite. It had 5 stars and a spa. The one after that had 5 stars and a mini waterpark. We passed by many more that were discounted for having unnecessary luxuries like pools with fountains and family campsite entertainment. By lunchtime, we decided this area was far too touristy and that we needed a maximum 3-starer for our basic trampy needs. We wondered whether we were the first people to spend all day cycling about the coast of France looking for the shittest campsite we could find.
We changed into some more suitable cycling attire and snaffled a little picnic at the side of the Eurovelo, which turned out to be fairly amusing as every single person that cycled past (I counted at least 10) smiled down at our little feast of bread, anchovies, olives and sundried tomatoes and said “bon appetite!”.
Following the dedicated EV1 cycle road that even has its own cute little traffic signals and signage was pretty easy-going. Even with coastal headwinds slowing us down we managed to keep a fairly decent speed and overtook quite a few other cyclists for the first time on our trip!
After about 28 miles and glad we hadn’t paid 35 EUROS for one of the luxury campsites, we found our more modest home for the weekend at Camping Les Chenes in the gorgeous town of Vieux-Boucau. It didn’t have a spa, a waterpark or even a swimming pool, the toilets didn’t have bog roll and the showers were a little bit skanky. Ahhh yes, this was more like it. A bargain too at only 15 EUROS a night and it even had its own boules court.
We spent the weekend enjoying some quality seaside activity. In a moment of skewed logic considering it was our day off cycling, we hired a pedallo boat and pedalled around the lagoon, chasing seagulls, trying to catch jumping fish and attempting some sick J-turns and handbrake turns in the water.
We cycled around the town, ate churros and drank the sangria that we forgot to try in Spain, had a wine and cheese picnic on the beach, went out for pizza and crepes and watched the locals dancing in the village to live bagpipe music (there was a dance routine and everything).
We even managed to find a bar that would put the F1 on the TV for us, even if they did stick us in a corner with the beer kegs.