S babi na pláži (La plage de Zuydcoote)

Mesnil-Val (July 26 - 31)

We were supposed to stay in an old farmhouse in Limousin but right before our vacation we found out that the planned renovations hadn’t been finished yet.

The Belgian Ardennes is always a good alternative, yet spoiled by the past weeks temperatures we obviously forgot the local treacherous climate. As the weather dramatically changed there was no use to spend our days in the rain. The coast forecast was a little bit better and we ended up at the Côte d'Albâtre which is a slightly longer drive than to the Ardennes.


It’s been a while I've been planning to explore the French Atlantic coast that I know only from my grandpa(’s postcards) who was travelling here in the 1920’s and 1930’s.




However, I was a bit concerned how will I possibly spend one week at the seaside. I can’t fish for crabs 24/7 like my boys!






But I must admit I was really charmed by the small fishing towns, white limestone cliffs, the greenish water... that all together created the most relaxing atmosphere.





The same way was the campsite we stayed at, located on top of a cliff overlooking the sea with only a short walk to the beach.
I should point out that the campground was actually kind of a little ‘Dutch oasis’. There were only one French and one Belgian couple, all the rest was Dutch; ‘except’ of us then!
Anyway, it was mostly (or only) tents and therefore nice and quiet.

Maarten had so much fun with the neighbor’s Noortje. Needles to mention, that saying goodbye was pretty hard afterward.







With some exceptions the local hiking wasn’t really adventurous and for that reason motivating Maarten to take to the trail wasn't easy.
Why would he walk up high along the cliffs when there were so many tempting tide pools down at the beach?!


But visiting places like the picturesque village of Veules-les-Roses enchanted even Maarten who compared it to Efteling.
Well, luckily it was considerably quieter but not less fairy-tale-like!





Only by accident we discovered the nearby Mers-les-Bains. With a necessary ice cream we strolled down the romantic sea-front promenade. The colorful interlaced Art Nouveau villas were beautifully restored and revealed the town’s "Belle époque" past as a fashionable seaside resort.


Here again I had to think about my grandfather sentimentally wishing to hear his adventures from this lovely region.

Côte d’Opale

I wasn’t too keen on continuing our camping adventures here in Europe. Yet Maarten kept insisting and he even packed his backpack every weekend and because the weather seemed to be stabile even in our region we decided to give it a try.

We booked a spot in a recommended campground. After we pitched our tent Rob went to pay the fee. That’s when we find out that we are somewhere else even though in the same village and on the same street. This campground appeared to be nice and peaceful, at least at first sight.
Never mind.

The heavy storm in the evening brought some refreshing air after a day of oppressive heat and humidity but I was a little worried that our tent won't cope with such a heavy downpour.

The message about the Dutch football victory over Brazil sent by a Brazilian friend brought some joy to this wet and somber evening.

Luckily it was dry again in the morning. The temperature didn't drop, although it stayed cloudy most of the day. Even at the beach was very warm with no wind at all.
We parked in the downtown of Wissant, a small town right in the middle of the two popular Capes - Cap Gris Nez and Cap Blanc Nez.


While admiring the impressive remnants of the “Atlantic Wall” built in the Second World War Maarten saw mainly the opportunity of crab fishing in the tidal pools around the concrete bunkers now gradually collapsed onto the wet beach.
I knew there was no use to persuade him to walk down the beach all the way to the Cap Griz Nez.


It was fun to see the way how the locals grow yummy mussels on wooden poles that are placed upright into the sea bed, les moules de bouchot.




I continued on my own in the southern direction. It was obvious that the sea level is rising again. I was lucky to be just on time to see the rusted hulk of a shipwreck now covered in seaweed and algae.





Meanwhile the boys were busy fishing for crabs and prawns. Maarten was literally shaking with excitement as he caught (and released) numerous prawns and crabs, some really big.







In the late afternoon with the rising tide the sea swallowed many of the concrete buildings together with the fun pools. At last the sun came out of the clouds making the wading even more fun.





We were chilling in the shade of one of the bunkers as my “romantic” husband remarked, “can you imagine, years ago, this beach was covered with the bodies of soldiers...”





On Sunday, despite the pretty sunshine the sea breeze was way too relentless.
Maarten couldn’t stay away from the tempting waves but even he admitted soon with blue lips and shivering that it was too cold to swim in the water.



With such a beautiful weather we could experience the stunning Côte d’Opale at its best.
The views from the headlands were breathtaking in all directions and the White Cliffs of Dover were clearly visible.
(Remaining me I haven’t been across the channel yet!!!)

Gravelines

Less than an hour-and-a-half drive just across the border lies the French Gravelines, a small town at the mouth of the river Aa. Completely surrounded by mighty gates, ramparts and canals, Gravelines still keeps rich memories of past.



We parked in the heart of the old town and walked along the river to the formerly fishing village of Petit-Fort-Philippe.






Because of the low tide the boats rested in soft and very smelly mud.

Strolling along the promenade I was most occupied by keeping Maarten away from the omnipresent dog poop.
Yuck!


The cold weather didn’t add much to the beach fun.
And as we continued along the dunes the Gravelines NPP with its grayish reactor domes slowly destroyed the peaceful view.
How depressing!



When we left the beach a rock monument and eroding concrete bunkers hidden in the dunes reminded us of the war past.





While rambling through the lush polder heading back to the fortresses the sky started to clear up and suddenly all seemed to become a completely different world.

More cheerful indeed!