24 juilliet

24 juilliet
Carcans plage a Arcachon
About 60 km
It was a fantastic day for visiting, thanks to the pervasiveness of English. While puttering my way south to Cap Foret, passed through small beach tourist villages catering mostly to cyclists and surfers. At one, spotted an upright-recumbent tandem. Going over investigate, I got to meet the German family that was touring from Arles around and about to Bordeaux. Papa and daughter were on the recumbent. Daughter seemed very satisfied with her position up front. I think that Namara would have enjoyed her view much better than the view of my backside when we toured on our tandem.
Just a few meters down the path, I stopped for a few minutes to stretch out and listen to the birds calling one another. Just as I finished a father and son rode up to me and queried me about my tour. Before long the three of us were riding along together, chatting like magpies. They are from the Slovak Republic (aka Slovakia). The father, Jon, is my age and works as a dispatcher for the Eurean equivalent of 911 (here the number is 112). Every summer he uses between 2 and 5 weeks of his annual 6 week holiday to bicycle tour throughout Europe. Most of his tours have been in the South, because he wants it to be warm and dry. His son, Michal, is 23, and one year away from acquiring his masters degree in something like aerospace engineering. Since he was 14, he has been bike touring with his dad. It was inspiring! Since they were heading towards Toulouse, we parted ways just before Cap Foret.
Once in the little town, I followed the signs to the ferry that would take me to Arcachon. Before the sweet little ship had rocked away from the pier, I found myself in conversation with a family from the Netherlands, touring wih their 6 year old daughter riding a trail-a-bike. What a delight! They had selected camping grounds that provide everything, so all they needed were clothes, and an itinerary that includes many playground stops throughout each day.
Having forgotten to purchase groceries earlier, and neglecting the status of stores on Sundays in France, I was searching for food while bonking around the crowded tourist haven that is Arcachon. Finally found a patisserie and fortified myself with a slice of flan, then continued to search for a market. After passing the tain station twice from different directions, I finally had some success heading east into the next town. The little market that popped into view as I whirled through roundabout number 17 was packed with customers. It had everything necessary for a nice dinner, including the marzipan for dessert. Now all I needed to do was find a camping spot. As I throwing my leg over the top tube, who should ride up but a young German cyclotourist who had just located the name and address of the nearest campgroung, and needed directions. That part was a snap with the handy dandy GPS. Thus, Max and I found Les Bonne Vacances, shared a fine dinner, and chatted until late in the evening. Of great interest to me was his view of the second world war. In German history education, it is presented with great detail and attention to causes, with the open agenda that it must never happen again. Makes me think about the way that U.S. History is presented. Imagine, he's 18 years old and touring from Berlin to Spain for World Youth Day. A great kid, who wants to be a doctor, and I am sure that he will succeed.
As if that was enough visiting for one day, as I was typing this note, a young fellow from Normandy and his bon ami struck up a conversation about my travels and his home in Normandy.
Bon nuit!