Ile-de-Re.....

We are becoming very European. At 2.30pm, having just returned from Cognac, we decide to go off for another driving adventure to visit an island just off the coast at La Rochelle. The island is called the Ile-de-Re and is known as the St Tropez of the Atlantic.

The island is connected to the mainland by a big new fancy bridge 3km long. The toll to drive across is 16.50 Euro. Thankfully the toll covers the return journey, it is an island after all. There are plenty of crazy French riding their bikes across and more than you would expect walking across.

The tide is out as we drive across the bridge but as you can see the French think that is just great. Maybe there are mussels to be found down there too.

We are still amazed about how far the tide goes out around here.


In addition to mussels there is a huge oyster industry around here as well.

The tidal flats are covered with oyster farms

According to the guide book the towns up at the top end of the island are all painted white with green shutters. Its only 30km to the top of the island, so lets go. Not so fast. Half of all the cars in France are on the island's only main road. To top it off the other half of all French families are riding their bikes up and down the island for no other reason than pure enjoyment. It takes nearly an hour to get to the very tip of the island.

On our slow journey we pass by some ruins of forts....

ruins of churches...
and what appear to be a group of pretty ruined Donkeys....
These donkeys were a curiosity for even the locals who were stopping to take photos, which didn't help the traffic flow either.

The Ile-de-Re is also a source of hand made salt. Small salt farms of just a few acres in area, run by families for generations, producing premium gourmet salt.

We arrived to the top of the island eventually, found a parking spot (no mean feat) and found the French on holidays at the beach.

The walk, they ride, they drive to the beach.


Miles and miles of beach.

We did find one of the mythical white houses with green shutters that the guide book spoke so highly of.


We have come to the conclusion that the author of our guide book for this region has never been here, he must have just seen pictures or copied the text from some 1950s tourist brochures.

This could well be the case since there appears to have been no new building on the island since the 1950s or 60s. Imagine if the Gold Coast or Sunshine Coast had remained unchanged since 1959; no high rises, no shopping centres, no highways. That is what the Ile-de-Re is like. Little villages of older post war homes scattered amongst the bushland and farmland throughout the island. The land is flat, hence the attaction of cycling. Because there is no off street parking for the houses, the streets are lined on either side with holiday makers cars. You have a very French collision between arrested development and over demand and modern transport. To be fair the French seem to be able to get along famously well in very close quarters.

As we drive up and back, we pass and are passed by thousands of French on push bikes. It is not uncommon to have large family groups cycling as a pack. We come to the conclusion that riding for pleasure is a huge thing in France, hence the total respect for cyclist by French motorist. Cyclist, more than pedestrians even, have right of way on the roads everywhere. A few other interesting facts about the French cyclist is that they don't ride fancy bikes, they never wear that fancy lycra cycle gear and they don't wear helmets.

The round trip to Ile-de-re (about 70km) took us four hours. We are back by 6.30pm. That is early to be home from the beach by French standards. Everyday we see the French still heading off to the beach for a swim and a sun bake at 7.30pm.

We freshen up and Jenelle treats John to a Birthday dinner of seafood. What a day! A six hour trip to Cognac, four hours to the Ile-de-Re and then a three course dinner. We wander home from the restaurant at 8.30pm; the sun (which always comes out in the early evening when we are done for the day) is still blazing, the French are still cycling hither and yon and lazing on the beach. For them dinner is hours away yet and bedtime will be some time after midnight.

At our hostel the party doesn't get started until midnight. On the other hand the French are still wiping the sleep from their eyes at 9.00am and then they do have to have a couple of hours kip after lunch.