Last day in France

Well we got home Wednesday night. Not a very eventful last day. We drove up through Brittany to Roscoff in sunny/rainy weather. There's a lovely road up the inlet between Morlaix and St Pol de Leon. We had a short walk in blustery wind round the headland at Carantec. The storm was coming!

Roscoff was quiet and half closed. Shops refurbing for next year and taking a well-earned break. Lunch was a couple of crêpes, very nice.  Onions decorate the Town Hall!

Then the crossing...six hours and very rough! Fortunately there were comfy seats and wifi plus flat screen tvs showing cycling on Eurosport.

The Quest

The intention was to breakfast in lovely La Rochelle and find a bookshop to buy Adam's Le Chat diary. But we were in the new bit of town, all trendy modern buildings and maritime museum and University campus. They like to keep it apart from the old town traffic-wise and the bridge is now barred to all but cyclists! So all we saw was a distant view across the harbour. No matter, we've been loads of times and will come again.


Eventually we navigated onto the ringroad and escaped into the totally wonderful dead flat lands crossing the marshes to Luçon. The light was perfect - low sun casting long shadows.

Got to Luçon only to find all roads barred and snakes of yellow hoses down all the streets. There had been a fire in a shop and pompiers were on ladders, erecting deviation signs, and explaining things to Le Maire, who had just arrived in his smart camel coat! It took a while to find a parking but by dint of going the wrong way down several streets, we did and then pushed our way through the blockade to the café. Bought the best ever croissants from the pâtisserie en face and sat down to enjoy good coffee with a choice of three tv screens.
The diary still not obtained, I persuaded Monsieur that we must at least try, and we went first to the Maison de la Presse, who did not sell it. Madame directed me to the bookshop at the end of the street. Try there, she said. It was now assuming the proportions of the J.R. Hartley search! The bookshop was stunning. Elegant, well laid out, beautiful window display. And yeah! One copy of Le Chat 2017.

As we were leaving we just glanced at the window display again, praising the refinement and wondering how such a shop could exist in a small regional town, etc etc. Then !Caramba! What should I see but a small volume entitled Agenda mer 2017 phares de France. With illustrations by none other than Héron (of Héron and Héron, he whom we seek at every available opportunity). Adrian was back in there quicker than a rat up the proverbial. The assistants had to heave away display units in order to retrieve this gem from the window, but it was worth it. They made a sale.

So, serendipity at work again. If we had stayed in La R for breakfast we would never have been in this street in Luçon and if I hadn't insisted on seeking Le Chat we would not have visited the bookshop.

Still bags of time so we zoomed up to the St Nazaire bridge and turned off to the left on the south side where we found a quiet little seaside village on the end of the river mouth, overlooking the Chantiers Navals and the bridge. St Brevin les Pins. There was a modern brasserie serving a menu, almost empty at 12. But by the time we had got our first course it was absolutely heaving with businessmen, office groups, builders, what looked like a couple of solicitors (one just knows!). Good, simple, efficient.

Then the explore... The light was still good but greyish blue here. Sea lapping on shell incrusted sand, an old fort turned museum and a mysterious seamonster emerging onto the shore. Le Serpent  d'Océan.
(More on flickr)

What a find this place is. Probably very busy in season but it has the look of a genteel holiday place, not Kiss me Quick.

Got to Vannes at 3 and we are off in search of crêpes for supper.

A day of two halves

The first half started at 4.45 with the fire alarm going off in the hotel. Reluctantly I tottered out. No one else around except the duty receptionist desperately trying to disconnect it! She apologized, I returned to bed...not to sleep. We got up at 7.30 and stumbled into a foggy morning.

Old measuring drums

This part of France is beautiful but the glories were pretty much invisible today. We motored through the picturesque Quercy and Périgord with its warm stone houses, forests, orchards, rivers and bastide towns.  From time to time the colours almost glowed, and then the cloud and/or fog blotted them out as we rolled up and down the rural roads. Breakfast in Villefranche du Périgord.




Now here is another tale of halves, this time geographical. In southern France by 8.30 everything would have been up and doing long since, but here there was no one around. No cars parked, like a ghost-town. The bakery however was open and we got croissants. Then the search for a bar. There was one at the end of the street and it was open but no customers...no bar person either! After a few minutes he appeared carrying logs, apologising for being late. Then, gradually people appeared in twos and threes, cars drove down the road, children were seen on their way to school. At 9 on the dot, the place woke up.

The second half of the day started bang on midday. The sun came out as we hit Charente Maritime and the Gironde. Blue sky, big clouds and no sign of grey. This area is the second sunniest in France I believe, thank goodness! The views are superb, big skies and rolling landscape and of course the estuary. Stopped for remains of our picnic at Mortagne's little port, unfortunately not at the restaurant across the way, but on the nature reserve side.

Mr Heron posed nicely a field of horses. They
were given our wizzened soft apples.

Then we enjoyed the cliff drive up the estuary, stopping in Meschers for a walk and photo shoot, then cruising along the beach at St Georges and Royan admiring the fantastic seaside architecture - ranging from 19th century frivolity via stunning 1950s to striking modern. The poor place got clobbered by our goodselves in The War but they have made the most of the rebuild.

Final stop was the Transporter bridge at Rochefort. It's being extensively restored, having suffered damage in a storm in 2010. Glad we managed a trip on it many years ago because it won't be operational again until 2018. We now repose in Kyriad La Rochelle, modern luxury and 5 euros cheaper than the rather tired one in Cahors!

Up and away

All packed up and house shut down for the winter. Sad sad. We left at 7.45 and picked up a final baguette from Nathalie. Wished each other Happy Christmas and left! Everything still colourful but it really feels like autumn now and the air is cooler. Séguret disappeared, then the Dentelles. Ventoux sulked in a thick cloud and wasn't seen at all.




We went the scenic route avoiding the A9 as far as Montpellier. Via Remoulins and Nîmes, which looked very prosperous and southern. Breakfast in Lunel Viel, a small village with grand buildings amongst the ordinary stuff. Awful croissants but cheap coffee. Everyone in the bar was doing lottery games either in the newspaper or at machines!

Still sunny as we climbed up the gorge past Lodève and onto the Larzac Plateau. But once up there it turned chilly and by the time we wiggled down the valley roads to Millau it was brisk! For this time we were eschewing the crossing of the viaduc in favour of a return trip to the underside. We've done this before some years ago and it's a nice route.

You can continue along the rural roads without having to go back into town. They climb and twist up the valley sides, as narrow as Devon lanes. And at every turn there is yet another fabulous view of the viaduct. Even back on the main road it keeps popping up on the horizon.

But now, high up, the colour had gone. Everything is just green and brown. Pasture and livestock farming, mostly sheep and cows. And it started to rain. An interesting journey though. Some good towns that one day we will stop in, but not on a rainy November Sunday! Got to Kyriad Cahors at 4.15 and it looks like we are the only guests! Our food bag awaits with The Baguette and all the leftovers from our fridge...times is 'ard, must save money.

Gathering cloud

From the West and North a dense grey blanket is drifting our way. There was still sun this morning but it's fighting a losing battle. Rain and storms forecast for tonight. So, a final foray into the hills, this time round Faucon, Puyméras and Mérindol les Oliviers - Godzone, as they say!

Here be Faucon

First Faucon to buy tartes for tea. We are going to the flics ce soir with Jen and Gérard to see the new Ken Loach...not sure about this but I expect it will be worthy and it has won some prize or other! Anyway we won't get any supper so they are coming for tea and cakes (or tartes) first. Managed to get citron, quince and pear/almond so that should do us. Might even be some left for tomorrow?
Then back to Puyméras with croissants for coffee at the bar.

After that it was just a short stroll along the lanes round Mérindol. We were loathe to leave, it is so lovely there. To quote a family joke, "buy me this house or face my wrath!"
But the pall of grey was creeping towards us from the direction of the Rhône.

Back in Vaison the men are still pruning planes. They are on the last leg now and the streets are lined with heaps of orangey leaves and branches waiting to be collected and turned to mulch.

Mad hares and Englishfolk

Go out in the Mistral wind!
A definite breeze today that brought the temps down a bit. But still sunny. On our way across the vines we'd just stopped at a junction when I caught a glimpse of hurtling russet fur to the left. It was a hare, joy of joys. But I feared it was about to collide with our front wing. Fortunately at the last minute it did a swerve and jinked round the back of the car then sped off again through the furrows.


Thing is, I have spared you the story of Sunday's walk round Rasteau. We'd ended up at the bar as you do and had a coffee and beer. Just before we left a local rustic issued forth from inside.  One Régis - his pals wished him goodbye by name. He carried a white plastic bag that passed by my knee as he went. I saw paws sticking up and definite bloody stains. And russet fur. Draw your own conclusions and weep.

To happier matters. Today we returned to the outcrop above St Restitut and the Marcoule Power Plant. The wind funnelled down the Rhône at us as we strode along the edge. The whole area is one massive quarry, some disused and now occupied by a biodynamic wine producer.

This is the other end of the walk from the troglodyte village we trekked round last year. It goes through woods and rocks and has fab views. We managed not to get blown off the cliffs!

All Saints

1 November. Public holiday here so it was fairly quiet. Grey clouds greeted the new month but it is still warm and by the time went went for lunch the sun was burning through. We set a trend at Roaix by sitting outside under the butchered mulberry trees and before long others had joined us in the sunshine. The most delicious magret de canard, neatly cut into medallions, perfectly seasoned, and brill chips. They don't do set menu on jours fériés so this was a special treat. It will be our last visit this year.

And then up above the village for a post prandial along the lanes and vines. Once again the greyish skies were the perfect backdrop for the vivid yellows and reds, just enough sunshine to illuminate the leaves. So still, and quiet too, with no white-van-men racing back to work. Just a vigneron tilling the rows and his three dogs, who barked with glee as they saw us and came hurtling to inspect the intruders. A bit alarming but they were only inquisitive and after a quick sniff went back to more interesting things.

Restoration

Another sun filled day and as we are awake an hour early, it makes sense to be up and doing before night sets in! Just as well this time because at 8.15, John and Louise (with Poncho crated in the back!) drew up on their way home, to say goodbye. Oh dear, not many of us left now.

Liz and Keith are also off today but they told us of a good walk up above Beaumes. Today was the day to try it. Who knows how many more days like this there will be...carpe diem.

We left the car at Notre Dame d'Aubune overlooking the Beaumes Coop and the giant concrete hands roundabout then set off up the scrambly limestone scree and rock path, beautifully waymarked with blue, red and yellow stripes.

Part way up there was a stone hut with an old anvil and forge equipment. Strange.

But the goal was a ruined chapel on the top of the ridge that is being restored. Believed to be originally 6th century then destroyed by the Moors and rebuilt in the 12th century. Romanesque.

It's a heavily funded project, part of the European Christianity Route. The grounds are being rebuilt by volunteers though. They've reconstructed the terraces and planted rows of iris and olive trees.

Farther along the ridge we came upon another excavation that is being done by International Youth Volunteers. Except that the men wielding shovels today were all retired or close to it! This one is also a chapel that had been  attached to the castle. Quite a way to go yet.

The views in all directions were super but we definitely wouldn't attempt this in summer - it was hot enough today! But from here it was all downhill to Beaumes through the woods, arriving neatly at 12. Just in time to grab a pastry or two from the boulangerie and have a cool drink in the Bar du Siècle before completing our circuit by walking back to Notre Dame d'Aubune. Where to our surprise we came upon the volunteer excavators stashing away their tools in the chapel. Obviously they drove down the road as we were scrambling down the woodland track.

It's Halloween tonight but really the French don't quite get it. It seems to be a family affair where infants go politely from door to door expecting sweets. We have just (at 3.30 and in broad daylight) seen a mother and child dressed in witches' garb. Adrian hastily drew the curtains and we ran upstairs in silence until they had passed by - just like we do with Jehovah's Witnesses in Devon! 

Sun

It has been nice for days now and set fair. Cold nights though. We've taken advantage and had some good walks. One above St Maurice sur Eygues through the vines with views for ever.

But the Sablet 'birds' are starting to gather for the return migration. So last night we had four of them round for dinner.

The little house looked very smart!

Down South

Sun was forecast so we were up and off for Arles by 8.15. As we drove down along the Rhone, we noticed it was also pretty breezy! Good Van Gogh weather.

We love Arles. Some people we know really don't. They think it is scruffy and touristy. Well in some ways it is, but only in parts. There are plenty of quiet streets unpolluted by Viking Cruises crocodiles. They tend to go to the Arènes and Van Gogh Convent then scurry back to the boat for lunch behind their tour guide with her Red 'Lollipop'!

But the day did not start well. My favourite regular breakfast bar was closed so we grabbed some croissants and a palmier from the smart pâtisserie up the road and went into one across
the square. The croissants were good, the palmier a dream of delicious buttery crumbliness, but...the so called grand crème coffees, well. Grand semi skimmed lait more like it! Honestly we could detect no coffee, so we melted the
complimentary choc squares into them in a desperate attempt to get flavour.

Thus fortified we embarked on our city walk, starting with the river wall. Down the lane out of the Place du Forum and away from any potential grockles we wended our way past the wonderful Actes Sud bookshop/publisher, a gallery in the former Docks d'Amersterdam warehouse, the Van Gogh foundation.

It was pretty blowy up on the embankment so we dropped down again into the streets. The area known as La Roquette is quite smart and not  heaving with sightseeers. The houses are pretty and it pays to raise your eyes from the pavement because they have interesting details, roof terraces, mediaeval corbels (?) shutters etc. Amazing that anything is left standing on some of those rooftop terraces knowing how windy it gets here!

Mind you, it also pays to look where you are going because here and there are these strange alien bollards with eyes, ready to trip you up!

Old Arles isn't that big despite the fact that the Commune of Arles is the biggest in France in area. We were soon back on the boulevard with its bustling brasseries and a mere hop and a skip from the Roman Remains. The Viking Cruisers were already filing back to base and only a manageable number of half termers still pottering round the Arènes. Our final stop was outside the city gates at the place where Van G's Yellow House once stood. Nothing left now but it would have been on that grassy patch. 

Quite an eventful patch too. It was here that the most ferocious fight took place between the Résistants and the German forces that led to the liberation of the city.

Now what? Well it was warm, we were here on the edge of the Camargue, the sea beckoned. Les Saintes Maries de la Mer seemed a good idea... like I said, It Is Half Term! As we approached, Adrian groaned at the sight of the world's supply of Camper Vans. We had another indifferent lunch at a restaurant that had previously served the best moules frites Evah. But at least it was hot and bright and good to be there.

In view of the volume of folk, some of them in the sea, but most just walking, we gave up the idea of a long trek into the wetlands and instead strolled along the prom enjoying the bright warmth. And trying to identify the odd woopee cushion noise that we eventually tracked down to wind (ha ha) in the street lamps.

Tuesday's sooooop

Well that was last night. The annual Soup Competition, part of the Soup Festival of the Vaison area! You might think we have entered the realms of the Soup Dragon and Major Clanger, but no. This is serious stuff. Folk gather in the School with their prize-winning (they hope) broths. Others scramble for cupfuls of same and someone judges the brews.You then fork out 8euros for a meal and wine.



Our friend Sørn, a mean soupetier, has been known to enter, but it is futile. Only a local ever gets the prize. And the winner goes on to the the great Simmer-Off at the end of the Festival, competing against the winners of the other villages.

We've never been. Adrian doesn't fancy it. I might have joined the gang of four (Liz, Keith, Gerard, Jen) last night, had it not been for watching Adam on Eggheads. Family first and all that! But to be honest the meal of a sausage and flageolets followed by bread and a foil wrapped triangle of camembert didn't sound too great!



This morning we seemed to spend our time trying to chase down L and K. Eventually, after having circled each other round the village like Pooh and Piglet searching for the Heffalump, we made contact and set out for lunch. In their hire car...only we couldn't get in. Automatic key did not work. Eventually Keith managed by using it manually and opened the doors from inside. But then the ignition wouldn't start and he couldn't lock the doors again! No lunch. They used our phone to speak to Avis and we went our separate ways...us to Vaison for what turned out to be an indifferent plat du jour.

Weep not, the home journey was a feast of amazing clouds and vivid colours and we stopped and walked round the vines in warm sun and wind.

Season of mists and yellow fruitfulness

Another warm grey blanket day. Rather nice really - I don't mind this muted light. It's a good backdrop to the luminous yellows of the leaves and foliage. Everything seems to be yellow today... quinces, persimmons, vines, poplars, plane trees, even asparagus beds. We looked out over the vines to the misty valley to the north and decided to visit Nyons. Why not?! No, we did not eat here but it looked so much of another era.

And just down the street, so did this. A lovely 1928 pedal car in the Citroën showroom.

In fact it was all a bit old and new round here!

We'd sort of thought we might have coffee in Nyons but nowhere inspired us. It was the tail end of lunchtime and we've had some pretty appalling coffee here before. So we went back to Mirabel. Should have known better! Last time we entered the lone café, we sat for ages and no one appeared. This time at least they had the good grace to stick a notice on tbe door saying reopening at 5.30. Harrumph. Plan C...Puyméras at the jolly refurbed bar. As soon as we entered the street we knew we were doomed. Zinc shutters firmly down. Notice saying weekly closing Tuesdays. As if they were a public art gallery!

Nothing for it but to go to Vaison, where we had Viennese hot(ish) choc in the square.

Autumn rituals

21  degrees at 8 am. Country cocooned in a dense grey high cloud with sunshine bursting through. Definitely warmer out than in!  In Vaison men are pruning plane trees - it's that time of year.

Also the time of year when Mme Pradier (baker 2) produces her indescribably scrumptious Pains coing - brioche buns filled with a whole poached quince. Divine.