Pétanque: on the Arcachon basin, the little paradise of Boule ferret-capienne

For almost fifty years, under the pine trees of Place du Mimbeau, in Lège-Cap-Ferret, card players and bowlers have met every day in a family atmosphere open to holidaymakers.

Institution. Essential. Immovable. It's 7:15 p.m. on this late Saturday in July, and things aren't changing at the end of the Mimbeau esplanade. At 3:30 p.m., the awning has gone up, the tables have been set up, and the ballet of hitting cards and throwing boules has begun. 64 official courts are spread out over the ash-covered gravel of the shaded square; even the people of Marseille would envy the site. It's been going on forty-nine years. Forty-nine years since Mr. Grandchamps founded the association. Forty-nine years since Gérard Grimard, known as "the left-hander," has been coming here to play coinchée belote. There's no way to disturb him; the game has begun.

A stone's throw from the Bassin, we're on a site belonging to the Lighthouses and Beacons Department, which has entrusted the city with managing the site, a city that has made Boule the priority occupant of the place. "365 days a year, we play quietly, smiling but seriously," summarizes Bernard Viana, the president. As for the nautical club, the space is reserved for the 250 members (including 50 licensed players). The other half is open to occasional players "as long as their behavior and attire are appropriate." No coolers or sandwiches to squat for half a day. Especially since the license IV resides under the association's sentry box.

For everyone, every day, there's the chance to participate in a mini-tournament in pairs, with always nice prizes to take home if you win. Near the bar, belote is raging. "Here it's the elite," we suggest to the concentrated group where we notice Yannick Dupuyoo, a long-time oyster farmer from Canon. "No, here, it's the liters!" Humor and moderation are the order of the day. "We're always welcomed warmly, as if we were from here," says Samuel, a regular summer visitor to this fishing district.

And what about this app invented by that ingenious engineer from Saint-Médard, which allows us to measure unequivocally and with AI? "Here, we use the meter, the only tool approved by the federation," explains Bernard Viana. "But I'm curious to see it anyway." A former regional press typographer whispers to us: "This is paradise. And when we're fed up, we can go drown ourselves 150 meters away." We'll have to wait a little longer.