The aire de camping was busy but there were only a few campers up and ready and taking their first sip of coffee in the dewy morning.
We cycled up to the beach to check the surf, which was non-existent, we knew the surf was supposed to be picking up but that wasn't until later in the evening. A little downhearted, we walked along the beach breathing in the fresh morning sea air, which immediately lifted our spirits. We walked as far as we could until our belly's started gurgling and a cup of tea and croissant started calling.
We trundled back across the beach, enjoying the feel of the pillowy soft layers of golden sand crumbling under our toes. Over a breakfast of tea, croissants, jam and fruit, we decided to continue heading further south, where a couple of our friends were camping.
After packing everything up, we set out down the coast for another substantial drive in search of surf and good friends.
We arrived at Les Casernes in the early afternoon where we met and caught up with our mateys. The surf had picked up a ridiculous amount since our morning in Biscarosse and was now too big for the beach breaks; closing out completely. We decided to grab a couple of beers and head down to the beach for the sunset all the while scouting out some surfable breaks for the morning. We found some old World War II bunkers and gaped at the vast expanse of golden beach up and down the coast.
Whilst enjoying a couple of beers in the sand below the bunkers, we watched the heavy closeouts crashing on the shoreline, and plotted our plan of attack on the French beach breaks over the next few weeks. I was well and truly ready for noodle arms, jelly legs, salt water in my hair and the sun on my skin.
