Closing in on Bayonne

850 miles done and around 50 miles to get to Bayonne, but for now we are settled into an absolutely beautiful self catering apartment in the otherwise undistinguished village of Linxe. We struggled to get out of bed this morning, lack of sleep appears to be catching up with us, despite the fact that we have been getting at least 8 hours every night. We are looking forward to a good lie-in tomorrow as we have  a non cycling day ( although quite what we are going to do if we don't get in the saddle is a bit of a mystery.  We met a couple of Finnish cyclists over breakfast, which kept us a bit longer than expected as they are interested in cycling Lands End to John o' Groats. Finally got out and back on to the wonderful bike paths which have been such a feature of this area - apparently millions of euros have been spent on them as they bring in a shed load of tourists - and we can see the results. You simply wouldn't believe the number of kids on bikes, on tow alongs, in child seats and in towed buggies. Whole families go cycle touring with several kids - the oldest ones (over about 10 years old) carrying their own luggage.

Anyway there weren't so many tourists around this morning as the sky was overcast and there were a few sprinkles of rain. We made good time to Mimizan Plage, where we stopped to buy bread and cakes for our refuelling stops. We were approached by an earnest looking you g Frenchman who asked if we spoke French- I replied that we didn't, but perhaps I shouldn't have said it in French! He handed us a leaflet and spoke very fast and at length about some cause. We decided they ( we had spotted a group of placard carrying protestors) were campaigning against child trafficking, although quite why hey thought we needed to be converted is a bit of a puzzle - we thought they suspected us of having a couple of small children in our panniers. More careful reading of the leaflet this evening reveals that the protest was something o do with bulls ( we are near Pamplona here), but all the sad foreign children pictured on the leaflet are something of a mystery.

Escaping from here we continued down the coast on an almost deserted cycle path until we stopped for lunch by a lake just 5 miles or so from our destination. At this point I need to tell you about the visions of hell we have been experiencing all the way down the coast - otherwise known as the French 

coastal campsite. It is like seeing Colditz or Stalag Luft 10 and escape might well be as tricky.  Those of you of a 'certain age' might remember the song about the boxes on the hillside all made out of ticky tacky - well those boxes are alive and well down here. Row after row of identical cabins, built looking straight into the back of each other and just far enough apart to park a ( small) car, no trees, no landscaping just rows of these boxes marching into the middle distance. If you are unlucky you get the same effect under canvas with what appear to be Boy Scout camp tents.

Even worse, if such a thing is possible, are the motor home sites, where these juggernaut vehicles are parked about 2 feet apart on a gravel parking lot with no facilities. You barely have room to open the door without knocking he van beside you. We used to think that all the stories about France closing down for August while everyone went on holiday were exaggerated, but I'm beginning to think they are true. Our room last night was 100% more expensive in July/August than the rest of the year, and let me tell you that the price for the rest of the year was still too much for what you got.

I'll tell you about this place tomorrow, run by ex- pat Brits, they have already put all our washing through their machine at no charge and are incredibly friendly and helpful. As we approached, looking around to try and spot where we were meant to be I heard someone call 'Shirley Hume?' The owner had been told 2 cyclists were riding through the village and was at he gate looking out for us - their story follows tomorrow, time to eat ( or in fact cook!).

Pictures include the route, refuelling stop and the interior of the place we are staying