Bordeaux: Part Deux

(see what I did there?!)

Well, the holiday season has come and gone, giving way to an extraordinarily busy start to 2012. Thankfully, I've finally found a free moment to sit down and continue my tales of summer adventures. So where were we? Ah yes... Bordeaux, beautiful city, crazy bi-directional river, loads of churches, not a mention of wine. Yet.

Aside from being a beautiful destination in its own right, Bordeaux city makes for an excellent base for day trips to neighbouring towns, villages and wine districts. It's reasonably close to the coast, and -- having grown up in a landlocked country -- I genuinely feel that it's my sworn duty (and great pleasure, of course) to go to the beach whenever the opportunity presents itself, toss aside my shoes, and wade in the salty water... regardless of the temperature or occasionally pebbly texture of the beach I find myself on.

So it seemed only natural that we should make a trip out to Arcachon, a charming beach village at the mouth of a bay on the Atlantic coast of France, a mere 50 minutes by train to the west of Bordeaux. With a population of fewer than 12,000, this small, adorably quaint beach village is a popular destination amongst the Bordelaise on hot summer's days, when trips to the beach are mandated.

Arcachon: Quaint beach town. Flowers, bicycles, and adorable dogs abound!

Our first stop on arrival was the tourist information office, conveniently located a few short blocks from the train station. We'd read that Europe's largest sand dune was located near Arcachon, and decided that it was definitely a must-see. My travel companion, L, had a travel guide book which had suggested that we might be able to hire bicycles from Arcachon and cycle out to the dune. When planning our trip to Bordeaux, I'd had grand visions of spending our days cycling around the wine country under glorious beaming sunshine, without a care in the world, so cycling to the dune seemed like a fabulous idea.

It was not.

The Dune du Pyla is located 12.5km south of Arcachon, which is a lot further than it sounds, particularly on terrain that is distinctly not flat. In the interests of time, we sensibly opted to catch the bus to the dune. (I would later be incredibly grateful for this decision, as I had no idea what a challenge the dune would actually be.) We arrived at the dune near the North-Western corner, and walked part of the way up on a rather gentle slope through the forest. Emerging from the forest, the dune is one of the more bizarre, yet awesome, sights I've seen. Rising to 107m in height, the dune runs 3km north-south, and is encompassed by forest on its three non-sea borders. It's about 500m wide, contains 60 million cubic metres of sand, and grows at a rate of a few centimetres per year (I believe).

The dune. Stairs are cheating!

It's taller than it looks. We're also part of the way up at this point, having climbed a fair way through the forest. Stairs are provided to aid in the climbing, but L and I decided stairs were cheating, and embarked up the right hand side. It's steeper than it looks, and any thoughts we had about our fitness levels were quickly banished as we fought against the slippery fine dune sand and stumbled our way up: 2 steps up, slide one step down, let's have a rest.

That is one *steep* dune! This region would eventually form part of our route back down the dune.

We eventually plodded our way to the top, red-faced and sweaty but not too worse for wear, and plonked ourselves down to rehydrate and admire our surroundings.

Success! (Photo courtesy of L)

South along the dune. Those dots are people. Me:"Is that peak taller than this one? Should we go there?" L:"NO!"

After a lengthy rest, L and I debated the merits of going south along the dune to climb the distant peak, which I was convinced was taller. Logic eventually prevailed on this front: the southern peak was very far away, so we should go down the shallow side of the dune to the sea instead. After all, it was a shorter distance, and we'd be climbing back up the shallow side. That'd be much easier than the steep side, right?!

It was not.

Climbing down was fun, albeit tumbly in places, and the sea was deliciously cool on our tired feet. After a good paddle, though, it was time to embark on the upward journey. At this point, the sun was high in the sky, and the sand had reached a distinctly unpleasant temperature that bit at our feet at every downward slip. We also now had a larger vertical distance to traverse than on the steep side, as we were right at the very bottom of the dune. Also, on a slippery sandy dune, shallower slope does not mean easier to climb. It really just means slower progress.

By the sea, at the bottom of the dune. Look how blissfully unaware happy I look! (Photo courtesy of L.)

The climb up was unspeakably arduous, and the slow vertical progress was entirely disheartening. After a few minutes, I became convinced that we'd never, ever make it back to the top, and we discussed, half-seriously, jumping in the ocean and swimming back to town. Then I had a rather brilliant idea. Flanking us to the left was a steeper slope, at the top of which lay a covering of brush and forest. My logic was that climbing the steeper slope would be faster, and the cover offered by the trees would be a welcome respite from the relentless sun, for at least part of the upward climb. So, completely ignoring the fact that parts of this area were fenced off, I swiftly made my way up the steeper slope with L in tow, somewhat doubtfully pondering the presence of the fences.

The outcrop of trees that would be our salvation, viewed from near the top of the dune.

With brush underfoot, the going was a bit painful on our feet, but definitely faster and easier than softer slope of the dune. Shelter reached, we walked to the eastern (top) edge of the tree outcrop, and sat down for a brief rest before tackling the exposed second half of the ascent. This part of the dune was slightly steeper, and it seemed it would be possible to circumnavigate the peak and minimise the amount of climbing necessary to get to the homeward side of the dune. Unfortunately, our much-needed rest was brutally cut short when a bug at least the length of my palm mistook L's foot for a natural part of the terrain, and began crawling up her leg. The forest was clearly no longer safe, and we departed shortly after.

As we finally began to round the peak, the slopes became steeper (see photo above, which shows part of our route), and at times we became concerned that the soil beneath our feat would give way, and we would simply slide down into the forest: a view that was reinforced by the bizarre nature of the soil, which with every disturbance began to flow down the slope as if it were liquid. When we were finally back on familiar terrain, we mostly ran down the final slope and emerged at the bottom exhausted and grateful for our lives. Thankfully, this was nothing a cold soda and a glass of wine couldn't fix, and an open café/restaurant in the forest at the base of the dune, with calming views over the vast forest, kindly obliged.

On our return to Arcachon, we immediately directed ourselves towards the pier for a sunset cruise around the bay. Aside from being host to the beautiful Ile aux Oiseaux -- famous, as its name suggests, for its impressive bird population -- the bay boasts some 350 oyster farms, conspicuous both as fields of sticks rising out of the water (where the oysters grow) and for a most picturesque collection of Cabanes Tchanquées (literally "Cabins on stilts"), which are used by oyster farmers to survey their farms, store equipment, etc.

Cabins on stilts!

Oyster farm (aka sticks in the water). Ile aux Oiseaux in the distance.

As we rounded back towards the village, we were afforded a distant view of the dune, which most deceptively camouflages itself as a small mound of sand at distance.

Dune in the distance. Deceptive beastie.

As the sun began to set over the water, the sky became the most beautiful spattering of pink, gold and blue, affording us the opportunity to take a million photos such as this:

Perfect tranquility

On our return to shore, we had just time enough for a quick dinner before catching our train back to Bordeaux. An incredible day, spent in a most stunning, unusual, and enchanting part of the world.

Au revoir, Arcachon. A bientôt, j'espère.