France has not enjoyed a particularly settled May. The disturbed weather pattern had continued for our journey thus far. Having invested in an Aujour d’hui newspaper for the weather forecasts, we had been pleased to see that today held the promise of something brighter.

Fellow campers, a Dutch couple, had told us of a field that was supposedly good for orchids. It was “only 3kms away” on the south side of Rosnay so we took to our bicycles for the first time in an embarrassingly long period. We cycled down through Rosnay in search of the field. We failed to find anything resembling it but we did find the hedgerows infested by large, white butterflies that didn’t look quite right for Large White butterflies, if you get my drift. Eventually one settled and I realised they were the delicately marked Black-veined White (Aporia crataegi). I’ve seen them before [they do not occur in the UK] but never in such numbers.

We returned to Rosnay to visit the boulanger for a consolation late breakfast of almond tarts, which we washed down with coffee.

Back at Guillaume, Francine checked a different publication and discovered that the orchid field was not actually beside the road but was about 100m off it. Rats! We took to the car and returned to try again. This time we found a couple of other cars that were clearly visiting the same place. We parked and joined in.

There were, indeed, masses of Tongue Orchids (Serapias lingua), the same species as those on our Rosnay campsite, though these were not especially photogenically arranged – no clear backgrounds. Looking further along the visitor path, we also found a lot of Lesser Butterfly Orchids (Platanthera bifolia). Francine was enchanted by the swathes of assorted wild flowers which accompanied the orchids.

There’s usually one thing, with varying degrees of seriousness, that I forget to pack. This time, I have brought along our cheapo gas BBQ, charcoal being prohibited in much of southern France, but not the lava rocks that go inside said cheapo gas BBQ. “Bother”, said Pooh, crossly, again. We needed supplies and fuel so zoomed off to the nearby town of Le Blanc where we found both at a Leclerc supermarket. Unfortunately we failed to find any replacement lava rocks so we’re still carrying around a useless gas BBQ. Duh!

After a lunch of smoked poitrine, which I had assumed was cooked but which turned out to be raw – this is essentially French bacon – I was keen to repeat an earlier visit to an odonata hotspot called les Terres de Picadon. We’d been introduced to it some years ago by fellow odo-nutter who lives relatively locally. It’s all very well keeping ones notes/information on the Internet but you need a connection to access it. Fortunately the phones were working on xG. A swift memory jog from Google Maps got us straight to the right location. The small parking area was nearly full but we got the last spot.

I was mainly interested in the Terres de Picadon because it is reputedly home to a rare colony of dragonfly, the Lilypad Whiteface (Leucorrhinia caudalis) which we had missed on our introductory visit. We were just beyond the start of its flight season so could strike lucky. Fingers crossed, we set off along the track. Clearly I should be keeping an eye on any passing lily pads; they are not called Lilypad Whitefaces for no reason.

After a short distance, having been bitten [quelle surprise] Francine returned to the car for a dose of anti-mosi potion. We began our walk again.

We were entertained by a few dragonflies and damselflies as we wandered then, on the approach to a corner I spied a pond with lily pads on our right. Scanning through the telephoto lens revealed nothing so I continued. Around the corner was a rickety, shady bridge where we watched a couple of Downy Emeralds (Cordulia aenea) engaged in the occasional territorial spat. The pond crossed by this bridge was much larger with a lot more lily pads in its centre. I thought I saw something land on one of the farther pads. At this distance, surely it was a dragonfly rather than a damselfly. It is not unusual for damselflies to alight on lily pads but it IS unusual for a dragonfly. I snapped a picture through the 400mm lens. It was certainly a dragonfly but the range obscured much in the way of detail.

Francine had advanced round the next bend and called. She’d found one suspect on a lily pad considerably closer to the edge. Actually, it wasn’t a lily pad but the leaf of a species of pond weed. Still, let’s not be picky when a new dragonfly is possible. My image was still not huge but this was clearly my hoped for quarry, my first Lilypad Whiteface, or Pondweed Whiteface, maybe. I clicked away in excitement but really needed my 1.4X extender which was back in the car. Francine gamely volunteered to retrieve it while I kept watch, so returned to the car for a second time.

Armed with more magnification I began getting images of a decent size. The critter originally kept facing away from us but, being a new species for me and a rare one to boot, I was pretty happy with anything recognisable. This angle showed its delightful white pterostigmas and white appendages to good effect. It was keeping its compound eyes open for prey items and zooming off when it spotted something, always returning to the same perch. At last it hopped around (if a dragonfly can hop?) on the leaf, doing a few pirouettes as it eyed other prey and  I managed to get both a profile and a front view, showing the eponymous white face. Ecstasy! I was a very happy camper indeed.

This was something it’s worth towing a caravan 400 miles for. Naturally, nothing was going to top the new addition to my catalogue but we continued around the reserve and notched up 12 species in all:

• Common Emerald Damselfly (Lestes sponsa)
• Azure Damselfly (Coenagrion puella)
• Small Red Damselfly (Ceriagrion tenellum)
• Large Redeye (Erythromma najas)
• White-legged Damselfly (Platycnemis pennipes)
• Blue Emperor (Anax imperator)
• Broad-bodied Chaser (Libellula depressa)
• Four-spotted Chaser (Libellula quadrimaculata)
• Broad Scarlet (Crocothemis erythraea)
• Downy Emerald (Cordulia aenea)
• Lilypad Whiteface (Leucorrhinia caudalis)
• Ruddy Darter (Sympetrum sanguineum)

On the track to the morning’s orchid field, we’d actually found what made 13 for the day:

• Southern Emerald (Lestes barbarus)

En Route to our favourite dairy sheep farm campsite at Fanjeaux, we planned to spend a few days in one of France’s wonderful wildlife habitats, La Brenne. We hitched up and hit the road soon after 09:00, deciding to follow Sally Satnav, wose route would take us dangerously close to gay Paris. Though her route looked like autoroute and dual carriageway all the way, the dual carriageway section was littered with traffic lights, so a tad slow. It did, however, avoid a notorious bottleneck near St. Remy de xxxxxx on our usual route, which is the main reason we thought we’d try it.

Back on the autoroute and putting our new “Bip & Go” telepeage tag to the test, we started getting towards the end of our diesel, cruising sparingly, and I began planning a fuel stop. The fuel station I’d chosen was absolutely smothered by building works and the pumps looked inaccessible for a Guillaume – tight right angled turns into the pumps. Fortunately, we were not running on fumes – never plan to run on empty – so getting to the next, more civilized station was easy. This time access was perfect and we were topped up with about 100kms to go to La Brenne.

We have stayed in La Brenne on numerous previous occasions, always at a private site at Bellebouche. The campsite there has always been a little tired, especially les sanitaires, but it was convenient. The Bellebouche site used to be great for odonata but last time we were there, two fishing ponds had been filled in and development, I think for equestrian events, was under way. In search of an alternative, we had spotted what looked like a pleasant camping municipal at Rosnay, a site which also has a lake, so that’s where we headed. 6½ hours after leaving Neufchatel-en-Bray, we arrived, found an appealing pitch and got Guillaume settled. Guillaume has a very good view of the lake and was soon being investigated by White-legged Damselflies (Platycnemis pennipes).

Not only did we have odonata on Guillaume’s doorstep but there were orchids, specifically Tongue Orchid (Serapias lingua), in the grass around the lake. We were most impressed to see that each group of orchids had been marked with plastic flags to stop the ground staff mowing them down. How great is that? And they say the French don’t care about nature. Many were past their prime but we found a couple that photographed well.

It was very relaxing, after a lengthy drive towing Guillaume, to be able to stop, draw breath and entertain ourselves without needing to leave the campsite.

Here’s the list of odonata that we found on site:

• Banded Demoiselle (Calopteryx splendens)
• Common Bluetail (Ischnura elegans)
• Blue-eye (Erythromma lindenii)
• White-legged Damselfly (Platycnemis pennipes)
• Broad-bodied Chaser (Libellula depressa)
• Black-tailed Skimmer (Orthetrum cancellatum)
• White-tailed Skimmer (Orthetrum albistylum)

It is very gratifying to be able to use some of the often excellent camping municipal sites in French villages. First of all, they attract French campers more than foreign tourers so the atmosphere is more authentic. Secondly, we have all this atmospheric, wildlife friendly location, electricity and excellent sanitaires for a mere €11.40 per night.

Mercifully, hitching up Guillaume this morning went much more smoothly than had unhitching him yesterday afternoon. We were off and heading for the Newhaven ferry port by 06:30. It was a 30-mimute run and we arrived to join a few other early birds shortly before the port’s gates had been opened. Still, better early than late.

Not only was this a new route for us but it was also a new ferry operator: DFDS. Check-in went well and, after a few security questions featuring sharp objects and things that could go bang, Guillaume’s cupboards were given a brief inspection, during which a harmless bag of crisps fell on the inspector’s head followed shortly thereafter by Francine’s Tilley hat [it didn’t fit him]. We went to queue in the pre-loading lanes. The cutest baby vintage car, which turned out to be a Peugeot, joined the lines soon after and received some routine maintenance – radiator water, I suspect.

Eventually we were loaded and very nearly in pole position for disembarkation. Leaving Guillaume in the company of other caravans and lorries, we climbed to the stairs to the passenger decks where a sign indicated that we should exchange our boarding cards at reception for a cabin key. What appeared to be missing was the all important sign telling us where to find reception. Eventually we stumbled into it where a delightful young French lady gave Francine our cabin key.

After a lengthy queue, a second delightful young French lady served us with two full English breakfasts. DFDS clearly has an excellent recruiting policy.

The crossing was flat calm and we spent the majority of the remaining time hiding in our cabin. Once docked in Dieppe, our near pole position got us through immigration third and we were on the road by 14:15 heading for Neufchâtel-en-Bray just 40kms away. Guillaume was finally in France again.

Since the advent of the satanic ACSI organization, I’d made a reservation at our campsite, which is run by a very diligent man who ploughs money back into his site in the form of improvements. We admired three years worth of very neatly trimmed hedges now marking many of the pitches. No sooner had we pitched up, safely this time and but on slightly soggy grass, than a German opposite produced a guitar and began tuning it. Arghh! Never mind, he was very quiet.

Sun appeared and we had time for a visit to the local plan d’eau. One smaller water body was now heavily overgrown but the fast flowing river and larger lake produced six species of odonata:

• Beautiful Demoieselle (Calopteryx virgo)
• Common Bluetail (Ischnura elegans)
• Blue-eye (Erythromma lindenii)
• Blue Featherleg (Platycnemis pennipes)
• Broad-bodied Chaser (Libellula depressa)
• Black-tailed Skimmer (Orthetrum cancellatum)

Having topped up in Brighton and done just 40kms since disembarking, I didn’t need the Leclerc fuel station but we did buy our first load of supplies.

After a three year absence, we are finally bound for France once again . We had planned to go in September 2017 but that didn’t work out.  Now we are finally using that ferry booking, rescheduled, of course.

We are trying something new, forsaking our usual Dover-Calais crossing with frequent sailings from which to choose and instead going on the Newhaven-Dieppe route now run by DFDS. There are three sailings a day only one of which was attractive to us; the 09:00 departure from Newhaven would take four hours and get us into Dieppe at 14:00 local time, so we’d be on the road by 14:30 with luck. With a mere 40 kms to drive to get to our favourite inbound campsite at Neufchâtel-en-Bray, we’d have plenty of time to top up with both fuel and supplies at the nearby Leclerc.

An 09:00 departure means checking in at 07:30. We could have left home at 04:30 I suppose but that really wasn’t an appealing prospect so we booked into the Brighton Caravan Club campsite [sorry, it’s now called the Caravan and Motorhome Club campsite] which is just 30 minutes away from Newhaven. We could leave there at 07:00. Better.

That was our plan. Everything went swimmingly, barring the usual clag-ups on the jaM25 to get to the M23/A23 past Gatwick to Brighton. I still cannot believe the traffic on our roads at 11:00 on a Wednesday; four lanes of traffic solid in both directions and occasionally stationary. Where in the name of Satan is everyone going at 11:00 midweek? Anyway, we got to Brighton at ~13:00 and checked in. The site is at the east end of Brighton. Salubrious, the area is not but the campsite was fine; busy but fine.

Swimmingly went out of the window as I began pitching up. Guillaume needed levelling so I towed him up our ramp. Francine wedged him and I began unhitching. Sadly I didn’t complete unhitching. I’d disconnected the power cables but, for some unaccountable reason I’d forgotten to detach the breakaway cable. A graunching noise alerted me to my error as I tried to drive the car away forwards. Panic struck and like an idiot I reversed a little, stuffing Guillaume’s drawbar, which had followed me part way before the breakaway cable broke, through the rear bumper of the car. “Bother!”, said Pooh, crossly. Egg all over face together with a broken breakaway cable. Oops! I’d better exchange my 30-year membership window sticker for a “Complete Bloody Novice” sticker.

Long story short: I found a supplier with a new breakaway cable for a stonking £2.99 but could not, for the life of me, see how one managed to fit it without special equipment. I’ve Jerry-rigged the old one. Fortunately the damage to the car was less than it might have been: I had pushed in a black plastic panel which was push-fit. After a struggle I finally managed to push-fit it back into place. What a dampener that put on proceedings, and after such a good start, too.

Maybe a photographic excursion would lift our mood. Some years ago one of Brighton’s two piers, the West Pier, was sadly destroyed by fire. The framework wreckage still sits in the sea and is, perhaps, more iconic now as a photographic subject than it ever was before. Naturally the tide tables were against us with low tide being at 19:00 but Francine fancied a go anyway so we headed out sooner rather than later. We arrived at 16:45. I bought a parking ticket as Francine set off with camera , filters and tripod.

Conditions were not great, either: fog banks were drifting around. As he arrived, the pier was clear but fairly soon it all but disappeared into one of the moving fog banks. It was all very ethereal.

A Carte d’Or ice cream each didn’t go amiss, either. £2.50 each. Damn, almost as much as my replacement breakaway cable which needed engineering.