Port Vendres, Collioure, Quillan and Foix

  Foix, France
Thursday, June 5, 2008

It was a beautiful morning.  The wind was still blowing strongly but the sky was deep clear blue and Banyuls was looking exactly as we always remember it.  We decided to spend an hour in Collioure before making the slow journey north.  On our way, we saw the sign for the Aire du Camping Car at Port-Vendres.  We've checked this out before, but couldn't remember what it was like, so we went for a reminder.

It's tucked away in a shady spot and as long as you have enough onboard facilities, it's a good place.  It was full of French, Dutch and German vans this morning.  There is a parking meter there, so it's not entirely free, and we didn't check the cost.

Port Vendres

A few years ago we were in Port Vendres and found a huge fish warehouse on the other side of the bay.  The locals were busy buying fish, and sampling some prepared produce over a glass of wine.  If you're a fish fan it's got to be done.  Of equal interest, though, was the huge car park beside it.  There were a couple of French vans, clearly camping for free.  If you don't mind the smell of fish, check it out

As we left the Aire, Ralph lost the plot and headed for Port Vendres instead of Collioure.  We had breakfast at a cafe/boulangerie called Le Pain du Jour.  It was the best yet.  We ordered coffee and croissants but also got a glass of water and a scrummy little choux pastry with our coffee.  The croissants were delicious and there was a steady stream of locals buying bread from the counter.  We joined them before we left, and the bread was so good we'd eaten half of it before we got back to the van.  Port Vendres is a mix of fishing port, marina and civil port.  There are many old buildings, colourful boats and fishing nets - it's a real taste of the Med. 

We were in this part of the world in September 2001.  On the evening of September 11th, Ralph had gone for a shower in the camping at Banyuls and met a highly excited Frenchman saying something about planes, terrorists and buildings.  We finally decided there must have been a plane crash, and carried on with our evening.  Next morning, in Collioure, we looked for a newspaper but didn't find one in any language.  We got on with the day and forgot about it.

The following morning, there was a big liner in Port Vendres, and Collioure - which is a haven for artists - was heaving with culture-vulture Americans.  We sat next to a group of them at lunch and listened in on the conversation.  They were talking about the things they had seen, or family and work matters, just like any normal holiday.  No planes.  No buildings.  No terrorists.

Collioure beach

It wasn't until we drove onto the ferry the following Saturday, that I saw the newspapers and finally realised what had happened.  I can only assume the Americans had reached a common agreement not to dwell on events they couldn't change, and make the best of their holiday regardless.

Back to the present.  After Port-Vendres, we arrived in Collioure.  It was market day and parking was a challenge, but we know our way around and found a place up the hill from the town.  We followed the storm drain down the hill and straight into the market square.  It's a mixture of tourist trap goodies and fresh local produce and the atmosphere is great.

Fishing boats at Collioure

There was a jazz band playing by the bridge and some of the tourists were dancing to it.  Meanwhile, the French marines were providing entertainment for other tourists.  They have a base in the town and we've often laid on the beach of taken a lazy lunch in a seafront restaurant, watching them sweat it out in canoes and ribs in the bay.  The town was sheltered from the wind and we were finally getting the weather we wanted.  And it was time to go home!

We stayed for a couple of hours, strolling the old streets and looking at paintings, and reluctantly made our departure.

Artists at Collioure

The first part of the journey was west through flat land and sleepy villages.  We stopped at one for lunch, and found the clouds had moved in while we were inside.  There was no more rain after this, but the temperature dropped noticeably.

The gorges of Quillan are stunning, and there are many campsites along the banks of the river, all the way to Foix.  For canoeists, rock climbers and cyclists this part of the world is heaven.  Quillan itself is rather sad and scruffy.  There are big blocks of flats in the town that don't look at home amongst the alpine scenery, and have a down-at-heel look.  Nevertheless, the town is full of English speaking estate agents, so it looks like we aren't the first to find it!

Winding streets of the town

As we carried on into the heart of Cathar country the scenery changed again, and the sun came out.  This part of the world has many interesting castles perched high on seemingly impregnable mountain fastnesses.  One of the most famous is Montsegur, which was the last Cathar stronghold to fall (the inhabitants finally being burned at the stake outside St Nazaire cathedral in Beziers).  It has featured in the Da Vinci Code and a number of other books.

Gorges of Quillan

We had climbed the hill to the castle on a previous visit and an amazingly steep climb it is!  The castle had been occupied mainly by women, who had emerged daily to look after the sick and needy of the area.  They owned nothing, and everything was provided through the gratitude of the locals, including the castle itself.  Truly amazing - I'm too lazy to walk to the corner shop at the end of the road, let alone make that climb on a daily basis. 

We glimpsed the castle to the South and then we were at Foix.  There was a campsite in the town that we used 8 years ago, but we wanted the psychological boost of being past Foix, so we didn't stop.  Just north of the town we saw a sign for Camping a la Ferme - the first of the holiday, so we gave it a try.  We followed the sign down narrow lanes for several miles and finally up a steep unmade track to a farm.  When we got there, the farmer told us it wasn't open as the facilities weren't ready. Aaaaaaaaaargh!  The signs were some of the best we'd encountered in France, but the toilets were in pieces around the field!

Camping du Chateau, Varilhes

Back to plan B, we followed another well sign-posted route to a village camping, and this too was closed, but we finally found Camping du Chateau, in Varilhes.  This is on the main street through the town, on the west side.  It's a nice tidy site and the facilities are spotless.  We didn't have electricity and it cost about €12.  (You can see I'm losing track of the details now).  Definitely one we'd use again.

It's definitely a lot cooler than the Med., and too cool for June, but it is at least dry, and the wind has dropped.  Bonsoir, mes p'tits!