Newsletter 35 - October 2003

Cee Une Voiture Ce Je Montė Moi Mem!
(Not sure of the spelling, but “It’s a car which I mounted [built] my self“ DAS)
Following our short inaugural foray in the Custard Tart (our yellow Mk1 Minari) to
Normandy last summer, we decided to try a more extended tour this year; but with more
planning. Well, we did a bit beer on the planning side – the ferry was booked two weeks
before departure, and some of those lile jobs on the car that should have been done in
the winter were aempted in a feverish rush the week before departure. Lunchme on a
hot June day found us heading down the A3 again to Portsmouth for the Caen ferry
packed with camping and other gear for two weeks. We seem to spend a lot of me on
car ferries, but we agreed that this was the tops. The Briany Ferries boat was beauful,
the food good and reclining seats could be had for no extra charge. As a bonus we leE and
docked in Oistreham dead on me. The other punters were an unusual selecon; around
80% caravans (mostly big) so we felt more than usually dwarfed in the CT.
The plan was to head for the Auvergne, camping most of the me. Not wanng to repeat
the mad midnight dash to a remote hotel (closed by the me we found it of course) which
figured on last year’s trip, we booked a room through the ferry company. A good choice;
five minutes aEer driving off the ferry we were booking in.
Breakfast was spent plo/ng step two of the plan, a day on the Normandy D-Day beaches,
followed by a meander south for the night’s camp. The “Grand Bunker” museum in
Oistreham was fascinang and along with the American cemetery at Omaha beach
brought home the size and commitment of both the defenders and invasion forces. The
cool wind and low cloud added to the atmosphere. The aEernoon highlighted a feature of
our trips to France. I wonder whether French signposng has really recovered from the
war. Signs without road numbers, signs visible only when you’ve passed them; of course
we got lost. Recovering our sense of direcon we finally got south of Caen without quite
going via Briany.
We found a campsite (no easy task in mid-June, it turned out) and ate freshly caught trout
as the sun went down, and the evening chill rose. We had seen remarkably few brits
during the day, surprising since it was the Monday aEer Le Mans weekend. Just a couple
of MGFs and a series of pre-WW1 vintage autos which kept hurtling round corners
towards us.
The next day saw us past Le Mans and Tours via D roads, and evening camped on a farm
on the northern edge of the Loire. The owner proudly showed us the facilies. Although
looking prey rusc from the outside they were the cleanest and best equipped that we
were to see for the whole fortnight. He then topped it by giving us a bag of freshly picked
cherries. Then across the Loire and into warm weather at last, we approached the
Auvergne via Chateauroux and Montlucon. Chateauroux got the award for the most
unspeakable road surfaces of the trip, just one long collecon of potholes. I wondered
whether the suspension would survive. Then we saw the jagged outline of the Auvergne
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