Day 40 – On to Limoux

The drive from the coast up into the Pyrenees along the D117 scenic road is awesome. Like I said the climb starts right at the very coast edge and very soon you are in some quite large mountains. The ski slopes of Andora are only about 150 Km away (and in the direction I was headed). Today was slightly cooler which is very welcome. Although still very warm there is a covering of cloud which gives some respite to the otherwise relentless sun.

Just some bit of old castle I passed along the way

After about an hour’s or so driving I stopped in the small village of Quillan for a coffee and to check out the property prices in an immoblier window. Two things surprised me, firstly how much cheaper property is here; There was an old water mill on a large plot of land in the window for 160,000 euro.. oh and by the way there is a second smaller water mill on the land too!! As much free electricity there as you could possibly use. You could probably sell some to your neighbours too... if you have any. The second thing was that both immobliers I looked in had English descriptions too. I guess there are more English here... or at least more non-French speakers!

I decided to veer north to the medium sized town of Limoux. If you’re thinking of moving to an area it’s important to check out the larger towns. You’ll need them for shopping, industry etc. (You never know when you might need to get one of you constructions welded together by a professional... although I suppose I have more call for that kind of thing than most).

Limoux is another quaint looking town with a square full of bars and cafes, a river and a municipal campsite 2 minutes from the centre alongside the river. Just outside of town there is a big supermarket so I get some provisions then head to the campsite.

The Nazi camp

I arrived and drove into the campsite (there was no barrier) and drove around looking for a plot. It was less than half full. As I was driving around I became aware of a young stocky looking bloke about my age with a ridiculous looking moustache following me around on foot looking at my vehicle rather indignantly. I stopped and leaned out of the window believing he wanted to say something to me... but I was mistaken. He took a couple of steps back in a kind of defensive move, while looking my vehicle up and down with disgust... oh great! Here we go again!!

So I ignored him and carried on. A minute or two later his buddy joined him who turned out to be the municipal campsite director no less! Obviously a position of huge power and influence and not someone to be trifled with. He was an ugly hunchback bloke with a limp and 3 teeth. The Notre-Dame guy is not at all an unfair comparison. About late forties I would guess but time hadn’t been kind to him. He had a huge gut and spindly legs but he seemed to limped along at a fair clip when someone challenged his authority. He came limping over barking something at me in French. I did my shrug. I wasn’t in the mood for another one of these. “What’s the problem?” I said. As we stood there arguing, neither really making an effort to understand the other the girl from the reception came running over. Then he started shouting at her. “Please come with me” she said and led me to the reception that wasn’t signposted and could not be easily seen from the entrance.

“I’m ever so sorry about that” she said in perfect English... “he’s a bit....”... “of an arsehole?” I added. “yes” she laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m getting used to it”. She said that all but two of the plots were allocated but that I could have number 113. How long would I like to stay? she asked. That depends on how friendly the people are I said. I paid for one night, WITHOUT electric.

The plot is delimited by the fence separating the campsite from the river and there is a gate just a few yards from my plot. Then I noticed the Hitler stood a few plots away talking to his friends with them all looking at me rather unfriendly like as I climbed around on the Landrover putting up the tent. I can guess what happened to his teeth; at this rate I don’t fancy his chances of still having 3 in the morning.

The good news is the internet signal is good here and as it happened the last time I managed to log on in over two weeks.

Later that evening I walked into town to scope the place out. The average age here is more like own with many hippies and travellers with dogs. So this is where everyone comes when Glastonbury finishes. It looks like a refuge for people who have given up looking for the Holy Grail.

The box of electric

I got back from town about 11 and it was dark and a thought occurred to me. It’s a municipal campsite, although he works here he probably doesn’t live here. I’ll be gone first thing before he starts work.... I’ll nick the bastards electric.. get a full charge in my batteries then I won’t have to pay for it the next evening wherever I end up!! My 15 metre cable only just reached the electric box. Luckily is wasn’t locked so I open it and put the circuit breakers in the ‘on’ position.... and went to bed! That will teach the miserable bastard!