Our family holiday parc in Languedoc, Yelloh! Village Le Sérignan Plage, turned out to be more French than expected. On the second day, I ventured into the naturist spa after breakfast—a decision that quickly turned into a Benny Hill-style escapade. I spent ten minutes searching for a non-existent locker while fully dressed, then accidentally exited through the back door into the campsite, startling my clothed fellow campers. Despite the embarrassment, the quiet pool—free from rubber rings and squealing toddlers—made it worthwhile.
This was part of a 16-day French holiday. Rather than speeding down the autoroute in two days, we took five days to drive to the campsite and five to return, stopping to pitch our tent wherever we liked. It was two holidays in one: a week by the pool for our sons, George (three) and Archie (11), and a road trip through 'proper' France for us parents.
We pottered along tree-lined roads, stopped in village cafes, and had impromptu barbecues on the banks of the Dordogne. We cooled off in streams and rivers, and once got soaked by cornfield sprinklers. For the first two nights, we hadn't booked anywhere; we simply asked for the nearest campsite. France has over 2,000 'campings municipaux'—council-run sites with spotless facilities, swimming pools, and decent restaurants. Away from tourist hotspots, there's no need to book.
Our first night was at Camping de Châlons-en-Champagne, the second at a municipal site near Mâcon, where we stayed an extra night. The Dutch family next door were spending three leisurely weeks driving between campsites with no fixed plan. Next came the Ardèche region, where we stayed at Le Moulin Indigo Campsite in Saint-Martin-d'Ardèche, a spectacular limestone gorge with 300-metre cliffs. We explored the medieval alleyways of Aiguèze, bathed on pebble beaches, and picnicked by the river. I joined a two-hour kayak trip around the Vallon-Pont-d'Arc, a 30-metre natural arch, which was busy but still felt unspoilt.
