Touring France in a motorhome Day Thirty Marseillan Plage

 

To help you navigate our blog more easily - this link - https://wherenexthun.blogspot.com/2025/06/how-to-navigate-our-blog.html will take you to a summary page detailing all our blog posts. Clicking on a link will open that post in a new browser window. To return to the home current page just close the browser page and return to the post you were reading beforehand. 

September 27^th - Day thirty

Sunrise! The sun comes up over the sea immediately in front of us, turning clouds a variety of shimmering shades of gold and orange. A golden cloth of finely woven, gently undulating, gossamer silk drapes over the sea. Bryony begins to warm up from her night time chill. Silhouettes of giant 8m+ motorhome in front of us take on definition as the night time shadows slip away. I sit on the step feeling the sun warm my legs; eating fresh bread with lashings of cherry jam. The aroma of freshly made coffee reminds me of another luxury to come in a few minutes. Behind me someone is stirring in bed and beginning to wonder whether her bed fairy has made her coffee yet. Of course, he has! Can life get any better than this?

We walk into town and back. Think Paignton, Minehead and Skeggie, all rolled into one. Little shops sell beach gear and cheap ‘designer’ summer clothing. Bars, pizza places, cafes and restaurants complete the picture. A purpose-built resort from 1947 and the historical geography is absolutely fascinating! Modernising over the subsequent years to include lots of purpose built flats and apartments, it would, for us, be a heaving hell hole during any July and August, but for now, at the end of season, it's rather quaint and endearing. Almost likeable!  Don’t miss the lovely photo display on one of the streets down to the beach. It shows photos of the development of the resort from the late 1940’s – the clothing styles, the building developments – all chronicled. Fascinating and insightful.

We retreat back to our superior campsite pitch with its views of the sea close by. Kilometres of golden, fine sand within 15m of our back door. Our actual pitch is just as sandy; below the surface is a shale-gravel mix. Every tent peg I possess is now bent. So much for pegging out the awning and windbreak!

Later this evening mosquitoes inevitably become a problem once again!  Nowhere as bad as the Camargue but still irritating to an astrophotographer desperate enough to stay out until well past midnight!