Loches, Centre Val-de-Loire

Zagan the motorhome’s within sight of the fairy-tale turrets which sprout like asparagus above the rooftops of Loches. We’re in a small free aire, with a little-used train line to one side, and a pleasant river-side trail to the other (N47.13339, E1.00043). The town has a few official motorhome parking spots, all limited to 24 hours and all free. The one we’re in is a short walk (10 mins) to the town, and it’s looking a very nice place to stay a night.

Our chosen free motorhome aire in Loches

“Errrm, don’t we know your face? Have we met before?” I’d been chatting with the lady from a neighbouring English van back at our previous aire at Esvres-sur-Indre when Ju walked over and a spark of recognition flew. Incredibly, given the vast network of stopovers across France, we’d found ourselves next to Mary and Stuart who we last met next to the cork oak forest at Benarrabá, in Spain’s Andalucia. How nuts is that!? Almost a year’s passed, and here we were, on exactly the same spot as each other again! Over a long chat they explained they were still happily living in their van, after three years, but had made a few forays to other continents by plane. They were on their way back to the UK for a month before slingshot-ing back out again. Quite where they were off after that to was undecided, as perhaps it should be.

We forgot to get a photo of Mary and Stuart, but they did show us these neat little gadgets which fit over your window handles and stop thieves sneakily opening them from outside. There’s a version for sliding windows too. Nope, they won’t stop a crowbar, but presumably stop some more-subtle robbers?

If you happen to be in Esvres-sur-Indre, we can highly recommend the lunch menu at O Bistro Quai. Friendly people, fast service, basic and beautiful food, a couple of two course meals plus cheese for €25, pretty good eh?

Spot the odd thing out? Yep, there’s a flood height indicator at the service point, as the nearby river occasionally breaks its banks!

After our goodbyes (or the less permanent au revoirs, hopefully) we rolled off 30 mins down the road to Super U round the corner from here, and topped up on supplies. After being caught out by a loyalty card pricing scheme at a previous shop, we were eagle-eyed this time, which took some doing. Small things are noticeably different when we shift abroad, and one of them’s the way food is priced in some supermarkets. Whether deliberate or not, it’s almost impossible to compare similar foods, or even work out what the price should be. Having many, many hours on our hands though, we rose to the challenge made sure we got the best deals!

Those signs above the milk show you the prices. All 800 of them. None of which you can quickly tie up with the actual cartons.

With our diesel tank brimmed with gas oil (supermarket stations tend to the cheaper here, like in the UK), we drove to the aire, bagged a spot and slow-roasted a little. The sun’s quite beautiful melting down over the greenery, but wee Charlie’s less than impressed. We take him outside under a cool tree: he wants back in the van. We carry him back to the van, he pants endlessly. It’s a tad difficult, but with a wet towel and patience all’s good and he’s currently snoring at my feet.

This might explain at least partially why we’re getting fleeting tours of the towns at best, so the cream-stone-built medieval Loches has hardly got a look in. Once cool enough we managed a short wander around the place as the shops closed. Most everyone we saw was in a cafe, supping coffee or a single beer (the giant thirst of the Brits never made it over here for some reason). Into a church, we came across the tomb of a king’s mistress. A statue of Joan of Arc stood in one corner, commemorating her trip here after defeating those dastardly English. Giant stone blocks form the citadel’s keep, looking out over countryside below. It’s a lovely place, and well worth a visit.

A table and chairs kindly placed out on the street for you to rest, or write a post card.

Yep, that’s about it guys! The birds are singing away outside, frogs are croaking, the sun has set and the cool slips in. Dinner of green beans, new potatoes and unidentified white fish has been enjoyed and Ju’s masterfully washing up as I type this. Perhaps I need to drag it out a little to avoid having to dry up? Yes, yes, good idea. I’ll go rummage around for one last photo to kill a few more seconds. :-)

One thing you can’t criticise about a French supermarket: the wine selection is immense!

Cheers, Jay