Foret du Mesnil to St Malo ~~~ Wednesday 22nd June

the following morning, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and i thought hubby was joking when he suggested we go for a walk.  apparently not.

after a little moaning and complaining on my part about how tired i was and how i didn’t want to get lost again, he managed to persuade me.  so off we trotted, determined to follow the path correctly.  and we did.

up to a point.

we had, once again, been walking for far longer than we had expected to on a 2 kilometre walk.  we went through a field of barley which i was sure hadn’t been on the route (but nevertheless afforded a photo opportunity to make an obscure visual pun:)

Small beer! 😀

yes, yes, i know.  dreadful.  but i couldn’t resist it.  it’s all granddad’s fault. *unrepentant grin*

anyway, we eventually found our way to a different carpark, and discovered two things.

1)  we had once again gone horribly awry.

2)  i really ought to have done this (see below) last night – it may have saved us a 10-mile walk…

here is a map of the area we were in. if you click to embiggen, you will see the scale in the top left corner. in the bottom left is where we were parked, and the green line leading from it is the route we attempted to take today and last night. you will also see how far wrong we went both times. last night, we were quite a long way north of the area this map covers. in the top right, you will see the place that this photo was taken. GAH!!!

i had a look at the legend, and discovered just why we had gone so very wrong both times:

a small side note: i'm quite proud of the fact that by the time i came to read this sign it felt (though i still struggled with some of the words) natural and not at all scary. it felt good to be able to read and (more-or-less) understand signage that was not in my mother tongue. i'm sure my French teacher would have been proud of me, too... 🙂

you may recall, if you have read the previous post, that we were following the yellow stripes painted on the trees.  this was an elementary error on our part (yes, i say “our” since hubby was by now becoming pretty good at reading simple signage, too *pride*).  the signpost that had pointed to the begining of our walk also had a yellow stripe on it, so we naturally followed the yellow stripes.  however, if you are able to read French, you will see from the above legend that the yellow stripes actually denote bridal paths.  which we had been merrily following.

***EPIC FACEPALM***

after quite a lot of swearing,we picked a route, and were back with Talulah within the hour, having had a(nother) very pleasant walk through ancient, sunlit woodland.  i am sure we will go back one day, if only to see if we can make it third time lucky.

at least i was wearing suitable shoes, this time…

that afternoon, we completed the final major leg of our journey and found ourselves at a lovely municipal campsite on a headland just outside of St Malo.  Hubby wanted to go for yet another walk, but i begged for mercy, since i was aching so badly, so we stayed on the campsite.  i went and did the washing up (oh, joy – oh bliss – a SINK!!!  with hot running water, and everything!!! 😀 ), whilst Hubby cleaned the inside of Talulah.

TOP TIP:  this is something that must be done at every available opportunity whilst one is living in a campervan.  no matter how much of a slob you are at home (and i am a TOTAL slut when it comes to housework), you absolutely have to clean and tidy whenever you can in a camper.  or it becomes really unpleasant REALLY quickly.  and you can’t find anything, either.

following the housework (which takes on an unexpectedly pleasant aspect in this situation – you really appreciate the facilities.  *cough* and the help *cough* ….. *inocent face* 😉 ), we had some food, and then settled down for a few games of Scrabble.  and got a visitor.  on the next-door pitch was an increasingly drunken Welshman who, after admiring Talulah (natch), proceded to tell us that he was wholly responsible for introducing the delights of the VW campervan to a breathless Welsh populace.  also hinted that he used to smuggle…er.”..herbal remedies”.  i told him that he didn’t look much like Howard Marks, but i think that one passed him by…  continuing his semi-monologue, he proceded to tell us that he knew what was wrong with a T2 engine by how it sounded, and got us to start the engine up.

then he cheerfully told us our engine was about to blow up.

bastard!  i spent the next two days in intermittent panic because of him. *grumpyface*

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