Pontorson & Le Mont-Saint-Michel

Our journey through France continued and our next stopover was at http://www.camping-haliotis-mont-saint-michel.com/english-version-camping-haliotis-mont-saint-michel.html for a very pleasant week prior to catching the Ferry from Roskoff to Plymouth.

Great little site very clean, modern and well kept. Our  large pitch with full services was a haven for many wild birds and the local church bells told accurate time! Our friends Dave & Di joined us here and pitched up next door. We enjoyed the welcome sun, a few beers and even managed several games of Rummikub!  

Mr H and I once again donned our lycra and used the cycle route along the estuary leading to Mont St Michel as it was just outside the site gate. This historic citadel was a magical place despite the throngs of fellow tourists.

 

The choice of food was vast so Mr H and his mate left us in a souvenir shop to scout a venue for lunch. They found us a lovely little restaurant with a varied menu and good chilled beer! Result.

Our ferry to Plymouth set sail early on a Sunday morning so we decided to head for an overnight stay on an Aire at Roskoff so we didn't have to be up at stupid o'clock. The sat-nav once again took us on a detour! Mr H followed her instructions and realised too late that the prescribed route was not going to accommodate the sacred bus. The road narrowed alarmingly quickly as we crept along and the stone walls on both sides seemed to lean in a bit more every few feet. We eventually stopped with no room to turn and I volunteered to walk down the narrow bendy lane to see what was ahead.  Luckily around the next bend was a large farmyard big enough to turn around. So we detached the trailer and Mr H did a ten point turn around the muddy sharp bend into the yard. With the trailer re-attached Mr H managed to get the RV back on the main road but we ended up down a dead-end in the centre of Roskoff . My girl guide skills kicked in and I guided a hot and bothered Mr H into the library car park which luckily had room to turn round in. Armed with the aire address and a smile I went into the library. Thanks to a combination of mime and bad French I managed to extract the route from a non English-speaking but very pleasant French librarian! So we arrived and spent one long night on the aire, crammed full of caravans and motorhomes doing the same on a sloping pitch and no facilities. Never again I say!