words by Williams

Tuesday May 23

We’re leaving Saint-Médard today and heading eventually for Arcachon on the coast below Bordeaux, with a detour to Saint-Émillion as part of the ‘Chasse-les-Chefs’ tour.

Saint-Émillion is where James Martin first learned his trade, stuck in a corner of a hotel kitchen doing prep while staring at a wall. Back then the place was called the Hostellerie De Plaisance, now it’s the Hotel de Pavie.

Thing is, we’re having trouble getting away. Everything seems to be taking so much longer to pack up, not helped by a chance meeting with Richard, Maureen and Monty, who’d arrived on site late last night.

It was the ‘Bonjour’, then very English ‘morning’ that alerted me to Richard’s origins, but I needed the loo first and it was only when I was walking back to Betsy at the other end of the site that I noticed the camper with the UK numberplate.

Richard is slightly built, wearing shorts and a faded tee shirt. I walk up and say hello. Monty, his poodle cross breaks the ice immediately by licking my leg.

We start to chat, me forgetting that Cal’s back at the bus and waiting for a loo break of her own.

An hour or so later I’ve learned that Richard is a former printer who’s worked for a number of companies around his home in Colchester before becoming a taxi driver.

He and his wife Maureen have been doing the camper van touring thing for a while now and they’re currently two weeks into their latest trip round France.

Maureen’s a bit under the weather today and is sitting quietly in the van having tripped and fallen a couple of days previously. They’re trying to decide whether Maureen needs to see a doctor, but for the moment are braving it out.

After about 45 minutes, Cal walks past having wondered where on earth I’d got to. She goes, goes and comes back. We three talk for another 15 minutes or so before Cal gees me up to get a move on.

We have grey water and a toilet cassette to empty before we leave.

Finally, about 90 minutes later than planned, we’re on the road to Saint-Émillion, and what a road.

I’ve never seen so many vines and this time I’m not so niggled at Maisie for taking us the slow way.

There are obviously huge vineyards in France, we’ve seen them already, but nothing like this.

I’m told later that the Saint-Émillion appellation covers an area about 12km long and 8km wide.

Later, we see a sign just outside the town centre which lists the names of all the domaines. There are hundreds.

When we arrive, there’s no chance of parking in the town, so we join a number of other motor homes parked alongside the road before exploring on foot.

The honey-coloured stone town is built on a hill, although that’s not immediately apparent on the side we approached from. It’s like some wine theme park. Viticulture and its influence is everywhere.

We wander around with no real plan until we find a busy square crammed with tables and chairs, home to two restaurants.

We stop for lunch of a mixed board of cheese and charcuterie and a small degustation of two whites and a red. The place is buzzing and every so often trains of schoolchildren are guided past by their teachers. No-one ever took us on a school trip to plonk central.

We’re conscious that time is overtaking us again, but I need to find James’s place. It’s now the Hotel de Pavie and is actually just up the hill and left a bit. I get the obligatory selfie, courtesy of Cal.

With all the people about it makes me wonder, as it did in Bordeaux yesterday, how they manage to people out of shot when they’re filming.

It’s now really quite warm and we have about two hours in the saddle on the way to Arcachon.

It’s another Huttopia and when we arrive, we discover it’s the best so far.

We get a warm welcome from the reception team, especially Gauthier, a young man who seems to be driven by the need to be helpful.

The site has only recently been taken over by Huttopia and is set on the edge of what looks like a pretty well-heeled residential area. Turns out, it’s indicative of the town.

Right now, however, we just want to settle down on a sunny terrace overlooking the pool with a couple of beers, served by Malou, who is good enough to at least pretend to enjoy my Franglais as she pours.

Long day, but very enjoyable.