Monsters in the Night
We had spent the previous fortnight at Le Domaine d’Oleron, (campsite No 1323 in this year’s ACSI book) at St-Georges d’Oleron, on the Ile d’Oleron. We had walked and cycled around the island but mostly relaxed to the point of torpor. It was time to move
. 
We had a vague plan; to head for St-Emilion, east of Bordeaux, though with neither a time-scale nor exact route in mind. Though it is less than 120 miles by road we thought we might take short hops down the east shore of the Gironde estuary before heading inland to St-Emilion, taking 4 to 6 days to do so. First stop would be a visit to La Palmyre, a few miles southwest of the bridge to the Ile d’Oleron.
La Palmyre is a “low rise” seaside resort which nestles in the sand dunes and pine forests and has wonderful beaches and a famous zoo. A sand spit which points south protects a beautiful long beach and forms a superb lagoon, much loved by kite surfers and dinghy sailors.
As well as a number of campsites, there are a couple of “Aire de camping-car” in the forest and another next to the beach. It was on the latter that we decided to spend the night. When we arrived we found that the whole area had recently undergone a lot of redevelopment work with new gardens and improvements to the adjacent promenade, indeed the finishing touches were still being applied.
We parked up, paid for our ticket from the machine and walked the short distance into “town” where the local market was in full swing and very good it was too for a 1960/70’s resort. There are many restaurants here and in one we had some excellent seafood for lunch.
We spent the afternoon and early evening on the beach and cycling along the promenade and through the tracks in the pine forest. After a light evening meal and a final stroll along the “prom” we turned in for the night.
Little did we know the night of horrors which awaited us.
Deep in “the sleep of the just” at 2 a.m., on the dot, we were awaken sharply by an horrendous sound, the like of which we had never heard before nor wish to hear again. The sound ebbed and flowed and emanated from the back of the van or immediately behind it. Were we under attack? By Whom? By What???
As I am not in the habit of wearing my underpants on the outside, Superman style, I was somewhat reluctant to get out of bed to investigate. Following specific and very direct instructions from my line manager, I reluctantly put my head out from under the covers and went to take a look. I shone our giant torch out of both side windows and then the back window but could see nothing, yet this terrifying noise continued. With further encouragement, I ventured outside whereupon I was almost immediately showered by what I hoped were water droplets coming not from the sky but from below.
Shortly afterwards the nature of the “Demonic beast” from which we were under attack became clear. The irrigation system which was being installed to water the new lawns and flower beds had not been correctly adjusted. Instead of spraying the lawn behind us the pop-up oscillating jet a foot from the rear of our van was spraying the plastic trim panels, which acted as a superb amplifier.
What should I do?
I did what every right thinking Englishman would do - I put the kettle on and made a cup of tea.
Whilst drinking my tea and deciding whether to put away the dropdown bed, open the blinds and move the van off the ramps, silence was restored, though not before a couple of our neighbours had moved.
Returning to bed we fell quickly into a deep slumber.
At 4 o’clock sharp our dragon returned. This time we read until it stopped and then went back to sleep swearing acts of terrible vandalism if we got a 6 o’clock “alarm call”.
Perhaps we will stay elsewhere next time we go to La Palmyre, park away from the grass or maybe we’ll find some large stones to put on top off the pop-ups - just in case!
Carl
1323
