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Ile de Ré
By Tate
If you’ve read my piece on la Rochelle you’ll know that our
assault on the town was launched on the back of a visit to Castorama, a large
B&Q type shop just outside La Rochelle, to replace broken swimming pool
equipment. Now as Murphy, or at least his law, would have it Trevor gave the
pool a good clean with the new equipment and wandered in with one of the filters
from within the pump announcing that it now needed replacing. You know the good
news bad news thing well the good news was that the filter didn’t come from
Castorama, the bad news was it came from Cash Piscines, a shop on the same
industrial estate, so we were off to the La Rochelle area again. The silver
lining to this particular cloud is very Alice in Wonderland, as jutting from the
coast beside La Rochelle is a most amazing three kilometre bridge, and at the
other end of it is a small island, “L’Ile de Re”
First the technical
stuff. The Isle de Re is in the Department of the Charente-Maritime, and has an
area of 85 square kilometres, it is 30 km long and 5km wide although in places
that is reduced to mere metres. It was originally an archipelago of 3 separate
islands running east off of La Rochelle but due to silting and human
intervention, it has become one island. The strategic value of the island has
long been recognised, and as such the island sports what almost amounts to a
display of “Fortifications through the Ages”. Many people have tried to invade
it but few have succeeded. Those who have failed include the English. In 1627
the Duke of Buckingham invaded, landing thousands of troops on the beaches of
the Ile de Re. After 3 months fighting the islanders and failing to subjugate
them, he gave up and left the island for good. The Island has a winter
population quoted as 16,000 rising to 160,000 in summer and with annual visitor
numbers of over 3 million, the island’s main source of revenue is undoubtedly
tourism. Sea salt works to the North West of the island, an active fishing fleet
and markets selling everything from fruit and vegetables to African artefacts,
indicates that there is a vibrant island community outside of tourism. The
Islanders who are known as Retais view the mainland, which they refer to as the
continent, and its population with suspicion. As an Island race I’m sure those
Brits amongst you will identify with that sentiment. I just can’t get out of my
head that they could have called themselves Reguns, not after a former President
of the USA but after the armaments of mythical intergalactic warriors, but then
I am a bit out there. The Retais however have now taken their battle with the
continent just a touch further, and the 3 km bridge connecting the island to the
mainland has become what I consider to be the strangest of battlefields. The
bridge like many other motorways and bridges throughout France is subject to a
toll, levied to recoup the cost of construction, as I write this the toll is 9
euros out of season and 16.50 euros in season (June 19th to September
20th) but in 2012 the bridge is due to become toll free. This has
brought about a movement amongst the Reguns (Oops! sorry) Retais to retain the
toll under the thin veil of being an environmental tax. The truth more than
likely lies in the fact that the removal of the financial deterrent is seen to
be tantamount to the opening of the floodgates which will mean that the island
will become prey to hordes of the great unwashed, further clogging up the roads
and taking the charm away from the few existing towns by the sheer weight of
tourist numbers. With the waning of exclusivity will likely come a crash in the
extremely high prices of houses and land along with the exodus of those stars
and dignitaries who are purported to frequent the island because of its beauty
and selectiveness. Even though this sounds to be elitist it is something that I
can identify with. Our visit was out of season for both French and English
holiday makers alike and yet everywhere was still full to bursting.
The
trip to la Rochelle was uneventful, the shopping done and the 9 Euros paid we
were crossing the bridge, they don’t make ordinary bridges in France, this
bridge is no exception to that, like some giant tensioned longbow with a twist,
it has a little bit of the bridge over the Loire at Nantes about it although
much longer of course. It was quite amazing we had left in thick cloud but on
the coast the sky was clear and blue and throughout the day we could look back
and see the huge cloudbank sitting morosely over the landmass while we enjoyed
continuous sunshine, statistics show that the Isle de Re has the same number of
hours of sun per year as the French Riviera,
Making landfall we, unlike many
others I suspect, stopped at Rivedoux Plage in truth it was because we were in
search of a coffee, which I desperately needed,. It being out of season for the
French we did struggle a bit but we eventually found a cup in a roadside
café/shop, we sat outside and drank from plastic cups, there was no view of the
beach, in fact there was no view at all, but the coffee was very welcome and
inexpensive.
After coffee we went straight along the coast to la Flotte,
the largest town on the island, it has a quaint harbour with echoes of a mini La
Rochelle. There were a mixture of luxury yachts and working boats in the harbour
and the cobbled quaysides were festooned with restaurants, but at one end of the
quay was an oyster market and past that along the quayside running away from the
harbour was a row of attractive little single story dwellings which appeared to
be inhabited by Retais. There were small boats laid up on the opposite side of
the quay to the local housing and it would be churlish to refer to the scene as
anything less than charming. It was just a little early to eat otherwise we
might have stopped there, but Trevor satisfied his hunger pangs with a pastry
and we wandered off up a side street away from the harbour just to see what we
could find. What we actually found, through an archway off the road was a
vibrant local market, selling everything, it was situated in a little cobbled
square and it was packed, we took a small lane out of the square which was
extremely pretty, if you ignored the dogs mess, with old buildings and
hollyhocks lining either side. The end of the lane brought us out in close
proximity to where *T2 was parked so we loaded up and off we went, past the
Abbaye des Chateliers a 12th Century Cistercian Abbey which was
ruined during the 100years war and the wars of religion. Not much further along
the road is the start of the fortifications for St Martin de Re, first there is
an extensive fortress with a dry moat which is yet another example of the
Island’s fortifications and continues to house the island’s prison. Our next
stop was the island’s jewel in the crown St Martin de Re. We stopped in the car
park just outside of the town and wandered through a park and along the ramparts
towards the harbour. This really was a mini La Rochelle except it had that
special feeling that is only generated in an Island community. The harbour has
an almost circular feel accentuated by a central island, the evidence of
fortifications are everywhere, as are the quayside restaurants. There are shops
on the harbour, but this is obviously primarily a place of entertainment, we
wandered all around it and then went over the bridge onto the small central
island. I could imagine that it might take on an almost magical quality at
night, with the lights sparkling on the water and I suspect music and street
entertainment.
We were by this time a bit late and we stooped at a
restaurant called Marco Polo which looked back towards the rest of the harbour,
we were amongst the last people to be served, but even then most of the tables
were still full. This is obviously a fish lover’s paradise but ridiculous though
it was I was still feeling the after effects of the previous evening and
couldn’t face eating more fish. I had the house pizza, it had ham and peppers
and mushrooms and in the centre an egg, it was good enough and was just what I
needed, not too heavy, not too much topping. Trevor being an enforced abstainer
was not suffering at all and tucked into a pretty little sea bass with mixed
vegetables. It was a small fish and in the UK would have only been allowed if it
was farmed. I used to fish for bass professionally and I know that to keep a
line caught fish now in the UK it would have had to be almost twice the length,
so make of that what you will. Personally I can’t see the point in serving
farmed fish on an island with a vibrant fishing industry, however Trevor enjoyed
it, but he was hungry and would probably have eaten a dog with relish by then.
The service was very good and the waiter spoke good English, Trevor thought that
he might not be French but when I questioned him he said that although he was
born on the island he had grown up in Angers where he said they speak pure
French without any regional accent and that was probably why Trevor thought he
wasn’t French. Having grown up in a holiday town in Devon I could get all
cynical here, we used to tell tourists all sorts, but I’m going to let is pass.
We both drank tonic water and had large coffees and the bill came to 40
Euros.
Time was moving right along and we had to move along with it if we
were going to make it around the island. We stopped at a beach at Le Matray, on
the narrowest part of the island which in places is literally only a few meters
wide, so that Trevor could take some photos; there was a car park and the bank
which protects this part of the island, then the beach. There were some people
donning wet suits who were going to hire jet skis. We didn’t stay long and
continued on to Ars-en-Re, it looked as if it had a pretty little square, but it
had those bollards that come up out of the ground and not wanting to get caught
inside, I regretfully chickened out so we didn’t get to see it. Next stop was
the very tip of the island where you can take the one road out and then the same
road back; there are a lot of beaches most serviced with car parks and none
seemed crowded.
This end of the island is where the salt production takes
place, it also seems to have a lot of very high quality housing with I’m pretty
sure prices to match. I’ve heard rumour that plots here are valued at 1 million
euros plus. We came back from the point to les Portes en Re which was a very
small working harbour, I didn’t venture out of the van and left Trevor to take a
photographic record. It was getting late and we headed back to take a look at
the lighthouse, unfortunately we were turned away by the police as the car park
was full, there was another car park further out but we were hot and decided
that our time would be better spent in search of an ice cream and a coffee. The
island has a reputation for ice cream and ice cream parlours; however we
searched high and low on our way down the south side of the island, but
everywhere was closed, and it wasn’t until we reached the Southern side of
Rivedoux Plage, where we stopped at a beachside bar and had, no not an authentic
Isle de Re creation but “Just one Cornetto”, (in fact Trevor had two), and a
large coffee each. Trevor wanted to get a picture of the bridge from the south
side of the island and so he wandered off along the beach. When he came back he
said that I could get closer to the bridge in the van so that I could see it, in
fact we got more than even he bargained for as I decided to go off road and got
us right under the bridge on the very point of the island, Trevor got some great
photos not just of the bridge but also of the kite surfers on the Northern side,
it was a fitting end to a long but very enjoyable day
About the author: Tate spends the summers in
the Vendee and is passionate about good wine and good food,he now writes
exclusively for the www.vendee-guide.co.uk website. This article may be
reproduced as long as it's in it's entirety including this Bio..
* T2 is the name he calls his Mercedes mobility van after the
series "Thunderbirds are go". His mobility scooter he calls T8
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