As two keen but "rough" campers, more used to festivals and random fields with not a sanitary block in sight, it was an unusual assignment. Our mission was to drive a campervan down the west of France and back in 10 days, stopping at three large, facility-filled campsites for two or three nights on the way.
We had crossing and campsite bookings plus a journey planner from a camping holiday "package" company, Eurocamp Independent, and our home for the holiday was to be a Riviera 141, a vehicle costing £30,990 and a size to match its price. It was like a strange kind of reverse Tardis - mind-boggling huge from the outside, "bijou" inside. But it was indescribably luxurious compared with our usual camping style - a two-person tent and battered primus stove - with beds over the cab, sofas, a kitchen area with fridge and full-size oven, a chemical loo and, to my delight, a shower.
Almost as soon as we hit the road from Brighton to Portsmouth, we discovered a strange kind of camaraderie among motorhome drivers. It is considered polite to give a cheery wave to fellow motorhomers (except for VW campervans - they have their own special wave and don't deign to acknowledge anybody driving anything so, admittedly, much less cool than their own cult classics). Once in France, catch sight of another motorhome with an English numberplate and you begin to fear for the life of the driver, such is the extent and enthusiasm of the wave. You get used to it. As you do the sudden look of fear in the eyes of drivers of smaller vehicles (effectively everything else on the road apart from tractors and articulated lorries) when meeting them head-on in a narrow country lane.
And after a while your ear becomes accustomed to the constant low rattle of crockery and cutlery and provisions shaking about in the back of the van. Stowing everything away becomes less about neat housekeeping than life-preservation when you're doing 70 on a French motorway and a large melon decides to pay the cab a flying visit.
And so, after a relaxing overnight crossing from Portsmouth to Le Havre, we eventually found our way to our first stop - Campsite La Garangeoire, near the village of St Julien des Landes in the Vendée region. Set in the grounds of a chateau, the campsite has been running for 40 years and they've got it all down pat. A beautiful setting with immaculate facilities, the management are determined to keep it that way and a list of rules provided on arrival stipulated absolute quiet after 10pm, no radios to be used outside tents or caravans at any time, no washing lines . . .
This was camping, but not as we knew it. We soon twigged that we were among people who took their annual camping holiday extremely seriously and cycled around the site gawping at the satellite dishes, mini castle-shaped tents for the kids, even a huge rock band-style tour bus. Our pitch was large enough to dwarf our van - no mean feat - and, with only a violently blue, plastic foldaway picnic table to enliven our pitch, we stood out as novices. A feeling which only increased when we realised we had forgotten to bring a motorhome essential - a hosepipe for getting water into the van from the standpipes - and had to borrow from our English neighbours.
They told us that, like many of the families on the site, they had been coming for years and it was obvious why. Everything you could need was available on site, from provisions (a shop selling food, toys, camping equipment and the Guardian, and a restaurant with takeaway service) to entertainment, including a children's activity club, swimming pool, horse riding centre and bike hire.
We threw ourselves into this hitherto unexperienced level of camping luxury with gusto, rediscovering tennis, ping pong, lazing around the pool and realising that there seemed to be no real reason to leave the site, and we got the feeling that many of the families there didn't. The slightly odd result was, despite the legendary Vendé en beaches a short drive away, there was a sense of being on some kind of generic "Euro-holiday" - the morning pile of baguettes in the shop aside, the site could have been anywhere. But for total outdoors relaxation for a couple of days it was fantastic and, watching kids of all nationalities running and cycling round the site in complete safety while their parents relaxed, it seemed pretty much an unbeatable formula for families.
Perhaps we had been spoilt by our chateau-camping experience but the second stop-off, Talaris Vacances in the Gironde, brought us back down to earth with a bump. Admittedly we arrived after dark, having spent a full three hours lost on the Bordeaux circulatory system but the mood in the van did not lift when we were directed to what was possibly the worst pitch on the site. With barely room to fit the van, it was a patch of scrub on a junction of three roads overlooking the sanitary block. The electric hook-up was nowhere to be seen and the drunk middle-aged man stumbling past the van to empty his bladder by the tree next to us didn't seem like the person to ask.
Morale improved in the morning with a move to a different part of the site and the realisation that Talaris Vacances has two fantastic reasons to get off the site as early in the day as possible: it's on the edge of an amazing network of cycle paths, and one of these takes you to the beach 7km away. And what a beach. After a peaceful ride through pine forests along an immaculate cycle path you reach the Atlantic coast with miles of wide sandy beach, dunes and huge crashing waves. Beside it is Lacanau Plage, a laidback little seaside town which attracts surfers and has a vibe to match, and boasts a fine array of beachside bars and restaurants serving local seafood specialities.
The Talaris Vacances experience brought home that every campsite has its own distinct personality that cannot be gauged from a few lines and a picture in a brochure. Booking a holiday like this through a company such as Eurocamp Independent makes life easy: they sort out the crossings and site bookings and have couriers on hand on most sites to ensure everything runs smoothly. Perhaps more importantly, they can provide in-depth knowledge of each of the sites they offer, and, for a family planning a one-off, one-campsite holiday, this kind of inside information could make the difference between a successful holiday and a disaster.
Swiftly leaving the coast behind, our next stop was the Perigord region of the Dordogne and a drive through undulating countryside. And the site was back to the standard of camping we had - disturbingly quickly - become used to. Set among trees in a relatively remote, tranquil location, Le Cro Magnon is a peaceful place - Friday night karaoke aside - with spacious pitches, a restaurant and pool and spotless facilities. It is also ideally placed for exploring the abundance of chateaux, caves and grottoes and vineyards.
A short (but hilly) bike ride from the campsite are the wonderful suspended gardens of Marqueyssac. Created by an eccentric aristocrat in the 17th century who decided that he wanted a rock-top promenade along which to ride his horses, his folly towers above the Dordogne valley from its high limestone cliffs and provides panoramic views across the region.
Canoeing on the Dordogne river is a must. As two non-swimmers we blithely ignored the "must be able to swim 25m" notices (hell, what were the lifejackets for?) and had a perfect afternoon meandering along the sunshine-dappled river, stopping at little waterside beaches, and gazing up at the chateaux high on the cliffs above. Throughout history the Dordogne was an essential strategic route and a canoe trip is an ideal way to get a sense of how the area was fortified and modified for river traffic over the centuries.
The long drive back to Le Havre, in torrential rain and thunderstorms was a less pleasant experience. We took a detour into a small forest during a break in the downpours to cook a meal from unfeasibly fresh food gathered at a farmers' market en route. Eating in a glade, as the sun briefly emerged, provided one of those "motorhome moments" we'd been told about.
Covering over 1,000 miles in 10 days, a trip like this is inevitably a toss-up between the speed (and expense) of using toll motorways to get from one site to another and the pleasure of pottering along smaller roads and seeing something of the country along the way. Although we had a detailed itinerary with a junction-by-junction description of each leg of the journey with distances and their estimated timings, we had to treble the times given for a more accurate reading, especially with me as hapless navigator and an inability to tell one end of a map from the other. With a less pressed schedule, and more time for on a whim stop-offs, the fabled "freedom of the motorhome" would really come into its own. As it is, the motorhome community has two new converts. Now we just need to practise that wave . . .
Way to go
With Eurocamp Independent, an equivalent touring holiday to the Vendée, Gironde and Dordogne, based on motorhome pitches at La Garangoire, Talaris Vacances and Le Cro Magnon campsites for eight nights, costs from £574 in low season to £810 in high season. The price is for two adults and includes overnight channel crossings with P&O Ferries from Portsmouth-Le Havre with a two-berth cabin each way. Eurocamp Independent, 0870 366 7572.
The Motorhome Information Service [MIS] represents the motorhome industry in the UK, providing a range of information about buying, hiring and using a motorhome. To hire a vehicle such as the Riviera will cost around £400 a week upwards. Further information from motorhomeinfo.co.uk, 01444 458889 or email: info@motorhomeinfo.co.uk.
