The engine shifter was not working correctly and needed to be fixed, and then the engines serviced by Volvo for the warranty before any sea trial could occur. There didn’t seem to be as much work getting done at the factory, likely due to the national holiday for the celebration of “St John’s fire” which is around the summer solstice. Alan suggested we go to a coastal town of Collioure to see the festivities, which would include a torch parade down from a nearby peak to the township, and culminating with the lighting of a bonfire on the beach. (Actually he suggested that it would be a good time if we wanted to travel for a few days while they were working on the boat but we didn’t want to pay for more hotel rooms). After a quick tidy up and showers back at the room, we took off in the rental car for a buzz down the coast to Collioure.
Driving the manual shift “go-cart” was actually an exhilarating experience as it handled pretty well and had a bit of pep if ever you got in the mood to pass (usually Citron’s). On the other hand it felt somewhat unsafe when the Renault’s and Peugeot’s roared up from behind or passed on curves and double lines, squeezing you to the shoulder.
The other excitement came from the road signs. If you turned off a highway/freeway/toll road you were greeted with a sign that had a picture of a car with a red bar through it on a blue background, which appeared as if you were likely to meet oncoming traffic but apparently meant the opposite. Every time you got on a highway/freeway/toll road, there would be a no right turn sign on the left side of the entrance and a no left turn sign on the right side. The best sign though was found at a few of the roundabout’s where you would get a green smiley face when you were doing the speed limit or a grumpy red frown if over it. Todd soon got into the flow of things and was driving like a Frenchman with verbal punctuation and vigorous arm gestures.
We used Google map’s on our phones for driving direction’s most of the time, and it proved pretty reliable except in the city where you didn’t get the information on turning soon enough to make the turn. The pronunciation from “Tammy-Lynn” (the name we gave the Google voice), was terrific in that it didn’t come close to the actual French pronunciations, but this made for such good entertainment we never changed it.
So off we went towards Collioure buzzing along in the 90 degree’s temps enjoying the adventure and looking forward to seeing this praised walled city on the coast. We had been warned that parking was an issue and had entered a location for a free parking lot that we thought was in the Collioure area. Following the directions we found the lot starting to fill and were feeling very pleased with ourselves for our navigation skills and timely arrival. It was a 1/2 mile walk down to the tourist district where we saw the colorfully painted Catalan fishing skiff’s with lanteen rig’s, tied up along the seawall. There were lot’s of families out and about and the first restaurant we stopped at for a beer, had a crowd of 40 for dinner. It was not however, a beautiful walled city and we were thinking that we might be in the wrong part of Collioure.
Ultimately we realized that we had turned off too soon and were actually in the seaside town of Angles De Mar..oops! The night was young so we decided to press on further down the coast and find Collioure. It was obvious that we were in a different area after the road wound up and around terraced hillsides with vineyards and sign’s noting that they were designated “Terroir” regions, which is a historical designation and protects the area from being used for other purposes. There were scrubby pines and low spiky shrubs, cactus, and the dry rocky soil common in this area, with the cool blue Mediterranean sea to the left. This part of the coast was notable for its high cliff’s and rocky shorelines…not the long white sandy beaches we had left behind in Canet, (which now explained the popularity of that area for the holiday crowds.) As we got closer to Collioure, there were several coastal fortification’s overlooking the approach to the city.
We could see a couple of castles on surrounding hillsides and a large tower and barracks-looking structure on the northern side where we were coming from. There was also a world war two era “pill-box” fortification just seaward of the older fortifications. There were no guard rails around any of the structures, in stark contrast to the States.
Now that it was 8ish in the evening, the parking situation was looking decidedly bleak. There were a fair number of people hoofing it from the parking lot near the fortifications but we figured we would do a loop of the area’s closer to town first this time. The next 2 lot’s we came across were full, but we then took a page out of the French driver’s manual and managed to secure a good spot between a concrete power pole and a large tree by driving up onto a curb.
We had noticed the French don’t ask for permission and are pretty fearless when it comes to selecting parking spots in busy towns.( Like the time we saw 2 cars each parked nose-out from the ends of opposite road islands, effectively narrowing the road by 50%). The 5 minute walk down the tree-lined road into town was a breeze compared to what we would have had if we parked up the hill, and in the heat there was the return trip to consider. Even the outlying flat-faced rock-walled homes and businesses were interesting. They still had brass fixtures and ceramic or copper downspout’s, and there was intricately crafted iron security bars on the lower levels. Most of the buildings had substantial wooden and metal doors that looked like they had withstood the advances of man and time for centuries.
As we approached the old town we crossed a checkered road crossing indicating a major pedestrian area, and the ground became more level. There was a short street which had shops and restaurants bordering an inlet with a bridge to the large castle and monastery on the south side. The prominent church tower which we were told they considered the other Notre Dame, was on the north side.
There was an old iron cannon on the small stony crescent-shaped beach, and a raft loaded with teenager’s out on the water. We noted with interest the 6 mooring buoys and immediately had vision’s of out catamaran sitting sleekly in the bay.
The beach was in front of the central shopping district, which was packed with tourists wandering the narrow winding cobble stoned streets, and was located between the two stately land marks. There was a large mound of greenery for the bonfire already in position, and over by the seawall area, a band was setting up. We wandered old streets looking at the shops and people and trying to locate a restaurant that had open tables. Finally a table for two opened up at an intersection which offered a small breeze. We ordered the special of the night “St Jacques” which were scallops, served with a small delicate piece of white fish and various pureed and roasted veggies.
The meal was served on wonderful artisan glass plates, and when we inquired about the local artist we were pointed down an alley behind us to his store.The chilled Rose was fantastic again and helped keep us cool. Did I mention how hot it was? Hard to believe it was rainy and windy a few days before and we were getting a sense of what the summer might bring. After the meal, we headed back to the beach where the bonfire had already burned half way down. We either missed the torch bearers coming down the hill or they started much lower at the castle! Anyway the band was in full swing and dancers had linked arms in a big circle and were having a great time so we had plenty to watch.
Our drive back to the Hotel Europa was uneventful as we did it without any unplanned detours. This was our last night in the hotel as we would be moving to the AirBnB tomorrow. We had been in France a week.