Campsites,France # 4of16

In Cahors we stopped at the campsite, across the river from downtown. The Lot River makes a sharp U-turn, and the campsite is on the outside at the bottom of the U, the main part of the town is on the inside. A family, complete with a junky old camper, kids and a big dog, parked right behind us. We expected to hear a barking dog the next morning, but we weren’t prepared for the noise we heard. When we looked out our window there was a large tow truck loading the neighbor’s truck/camper on a flat-bed truck, and off they went. We didn’t hear a problem getting it started, and since the decrepit vehicle didn’t look worth hauling away by a creditor, we’ll never know.

The campsite in Grasse is small but nice. We telephoned Renie, the lady we had met in Oradour-sur-Glane, she had asked us to visit in her home in Grasse. She came to the campsite in her little Renault auto, to transport us on a tour of the city, and a visit to her very beautiful home. She had been a member of the French underground, and was imprisoned by the Germans for eighteen months, during WW II.

Our next visit we stopped again at the Grasse campsite, telephoned Renie, again accepted her invitation to visit. She said, “I’m sure you remember where I live.” Well, we had been at her home, riding in her car, long after dark, seven years earlier, and we couldn’t find her street on the city map at the campsite office. She had more confidence in navigational skills of the driver, than we did. As we drove down the hill, at one intersection, out of the corner of my eye I saw something that looked familiar. We turned, we drove a mile, we asked once, and — well, the homing pigeon was successful again.

We arrived at the campsite in the city of Orleans, and discovered our cooking gas was depleted. We stopped at a big gas station, filled the tank, smelled gas, so we knew for sure we had a leak. Turned it on for cooking, then off to save gas, until we got it fixed a couple of days later. The lady who ran the gas station used to live in Detroit, and wishes she lived there still.

We camped in the town of Nantes, a gorgeous campsite. Each place was almost private with bushes on three sides, nice showers, nice place. The steak we bought today tasted like it had been tenderized to death. It seemed we had to eat it quickly, before it ate us.