Nai-publish: 15.06.2019
After a peaceful night's sleep, we start the day well-rested and full of energy as usual with a baguette and two croissants... That's how today's entry would probably start if we had been at the reception fifteen minutes earlier to order our breakfast. Well...
For breakfast, we treat ourselves to the leftover crunch of yesterday's baguette and slowly but surely, under blue skies and with the best weather, we continue our journey along the Mediterranean, reloading the Jumper. The original plan to drive to Portugal is being put further and further on hold, but it's still so nice here in France. So the only decision left to make is how far we want to go in France. Since we have already crossed the border and France is not exactly known for its resistance, there should be nothing stopping us from taking a larger route here.
What France may lack in fighting strength, they definitely make up for with their sophisticated toll stations. Especially at the first ones, we sometimes stop in the middle of the road 50 meters before the station with smoking heads and ponder like a roulette player in the casino with his last $25 chip, where the ball will land. Ten lanes to choose from, the left seven have the cash symbol marked on three of them. You'd think it's clear, but all seven left lanes have a height bar of 2 meters. Even our seemingly unlimited and proven daring won't help us here. Sitting in the Jumper, two meters is about eye level. So we only have the three right lanes left, and they all look more like tele-tolls. There's nothing written above the tele-toll symbol. But there's no other choice, we have to go through somehow and someone will help us if necessary. So we do it like the roulette player, we choose the lane with the apparently largest "payment box" and guess. Surprise, even though nothing was clearly written at the lane, we can pay our toll there in cash. However, at a height of one meter.
With a slight pull in our backs, which any orthopedic doctor would give us a week off for, we continue our journey.
Our destination is now clear. Hyères. A small peninsula on the Mediterranean with a few larger campsites, which promise smaller beaches with a Caribbean feel and, more importantly, flamingos! We decide on the "Camping La Tour de Fondue", the largest site we have stayed at so far on our trip. Already on the way there, we had to notice some wobbling of our Jumper, but when we get out in Hyères, the hurricane-like gusts hit us directly in the face and on our mood.
At the reception, we find out that we once again get the "last place". Either this is a marketing strategy or we are pretty lucky. The self-proclaimed comedian behind the counter also announces to us that as Germans, we naturally have to pay more - haha - and that today is rather a calm day - Yeah. Just like the career of the receptionist as a comedian, our mood finally goes downhill. Huge pitch, shitty weather, this should be fun.
Arriving at the pitch with a huge hunger, our decision is made relatively quickly, "tomorrow we'll continue". After a light refreshment and the resulting slight improvement in our mood, we decide to give the small peninsula another chance and hop on our bikes. Did we also manage to conquer so many slopes on the way here? With no less wind, we struggle through the hilly landscape. It turns out that there is not too much to discover nearby, and except for a wooden one that turns out to be a sign for a pottery factory, we cannot find any flamingos either. So back to the site and wait for the next day. Despite our mood, we unintentionally end up in a dead end on our search for the beach, which surprisingly takes us to a military restricted area, but also to the apparently highest point of the island. And apart from the wind, we are a little amazed by the view. Almost only sea and several small islands all around.
After the relatively unsuccessful hunt for a bathing beach, when we get back to the pitch, we continue our search. Thanks to Google Maps, our universal friend and helper on this trip who knows almost everything besides campsites, we find a hidden little hiking trail just below our pitch.
Over beaten stones and a few wooden steps, we discover several small bays with beautiful sandy beaches and a view of the Îles d'Hyères, the "Islands of Hyères". This dreamy view quickly makes us forget the lack of creativity in naming their islands, and if the weather plays along a little more tomorrow, we have found our beach here.
A few minutes further along the path, we find a small lonely bay that we can reach without major problems through a little climbing, and there, protected by the mass of rock from the wind, we treat ourselves to our small beer that we brought along, with a view of the picturesque island, our intention to leave soon fades away.