Dax goodbye, middle of nowhere, hello

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Washing and drying complete, we took a wander around Dax centre ville. There are hints that we’re getting closer to Spain, like a huge bull fighting ring, black silhouette bull stickers and the odd Spanish-registered car. The place is also keen to advertise its green credentials as a centre of geothermal heat research; there’s a piping hot set of water fountains to bring those with little imagination along.

We’ve moved out of the city now; the thought of trying to sleep next to a flyover frequented by hundreds of cars and the odd ambulance wasn’t appealing. Ju’s tracked down an auberge 20 minutes outside the city and we’re now sat looking out over the countryside. A table is booked for 8pm, and we’ve been advised the death-wish farm dog which legged it in circles around us as we arrived, then leapt up with muddy paws, will sleep under our van tonight.

We’ve eyed up the menu and I’m mentally working through a few French phrases (anyone remember the PG tips ‘avez-vous un cuppa’ monkey? Well that’s me that is).

The rain has slowed to a drizzle and I suspect tonight’s vin intake will help us sleep through any deluge during the night, and probably through the farm cockerel in the morning too. Happy Saturday evening folks.

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