I’ve been consciously holding myself back as I’ve crossed France. I’ve done this run a few times and I always end up driving for 12 or 16 hours a day. This time I very deliberately stopped every hour or two to go wander around, and made a decision in advance that if I saw a decent spot to park up I would take it without worrying about making distance.
That’s how on the second day I found myself crossing a bridge over a small river and hauling on the wheel to turn down a narrow side road running along the bank. It was early afternoon, middle of nowhere, pleasantly sunny, you really couldn’t ask for better. I put out my solar panel, cooked, faffed around, did some correspondence, and reflected that this was the first time I had ever really just stopped to enjoy van life. The festivals had been my introduction to living with the van, this was the next level. Loved it!
A few days later, after passing Bordeaux, I struck out for the coast in search of a place to stop by the beach. The weather was fantastic, glorious sunshine, and I was starting to unwind. I needed a place to stop, and was delighted with what I found. I had expected to be wild camping, but instead I stumbled upon a beach car park in some woodland with a whole section set aside for campervans. The toilets weren’t great but they were toilets and somebody was cleaning them occasionally! The camping area smelt of pine resin, the beach stretched to infinity in each direction, and I chilled out there for three days until I ran out of food. After resupplying I decided to press on before the weather changed. Next stop, Pamplona in Spain!