The reason why we targetted Blois was a wish to see the Chateau Chambourd, the largest in the Loire although dwarfed by Versailles. It is amazing, for a number of reasons. The roofs are a mad hotch-potch of domes, cones and huge rectangular chimneys. There's an introductory talk in English at 12 so we take breakfast and coffee while we wait. When we go in, the lady denies there is any such talk before 3pm, although the screen above her head clearly disagrees.
King Francis I built this as a hunting lodge. The highlight is a double-spiral staircase up the middle of the keep so that people starting from the same floor but on opposite sides will never meet as they climb. The keep has a 4-time rotational symmetry around the staircase, with each quadrant having a suite in the square centre and another in a round tower at the corner. This gives 8 equal-status suites on each of 3 floors - it's a block of flats for 24 noble families! Each suite comprises a large main room, maybe 25m by 35m and very high, plus a number of smaller rooms. It's like each of those rooms is the size of the main hall in the days when lord, ladies and serfs would all live in one great hall in the manor house. Francis I only visited here for 72 days in his 32-year reign. He and an entourage of 3000 travelled around the country visiting different towns and bankrupting them through the costs of providing hospitality all those people for two weeks at a time. Apparently, this contact with the people helped keep the monarchy popular. An early plot against the young Louis XIV made him stop doing this and he hid in Versailles. That progressively eroded the support for the monarchy, setting the seeds of the French revolution. Funny how big events can have such small causes.
The chateau was always unfurnished, because the party would bring their furniture and finery with them and assemble it on-site, dismantling when they left.
We get back to the bus just before 2pm and agree to put as many miles on as we can, aiming for San Sebastian, just into Spain. In compensation, we'll stay there a whole day before moving on. This turns out to be a really good idea.
The guidebook lists a campsite in the hills above the town, and we reach it on the dot of 10pm, hoping to slip in. No problem! Reception is open to 11 anyway and staffed by a lovely friendly lady. We set up camp and head off to one of two bar/restaurants next door. We order food around 11pm (the spanish often eat late) and leave around 1am.
Here's a strange thing: almost none of the toilets I found in France had seats on them. I don't know if this is penny-pinching, theft or some leaning toward the supposed sanitary benefits of the stand-up toilet. Anyway, this humble bar in a Basque village has a seat on its toilet.
We have no difficulty in deciding that we strongly prefer this to the toilet-seat-less, early closing and rather starchy France we've seen so far.
We celebrate on with most of the wine we bought in LeClerc, which seemed it'd last us through the holiday, a game of cards and deep chats. I retire to the tent at about 4:30am, leaving the others chatting. About 20 minutes later we bump into each other down at the amenity block, where we chat more as we wait for a burst of rain to stop.
The following morning isn't. I wake at 1:30pm and start writing this. Keith surfaces at 2:30pm. No sign of Sarah yet. Today's plan was theoretically: into town, sit on beach, explore, eat, drink and be merry. Only time will tell if we can cope with all that complexity.
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