Week ending

really just been pottering about these past few days. We had a bit of a trek between Puyméras and Villedieu ostensibly to visit the telecoms mast at the top of the hill. Then got a bit lost in the tracks so the return was a touch fraught! One false piste brought us to a group of beehives where someone had put a warning Attention Abeilles, as if a) they expected people to blunder along this road to nowhere and b) thought said folks would not notice a dozen hives in their path. Ah well, a journey of an hour and a  half begins with a single step...

Yesterday we got out early and went to the Ouvèze at Entrechaux for a paddle. Parked up along the road and then a walk down onto the river bed and along  shingle and through shallows to the old bridge. It is peaceful and cool and full of insects flowers and...fossils! Well at least one. Spotted by Adrian and captured for a doorstop.

Damsel flies as usual.

Also quite a few dams built from river pebbles. This one somewhat suspect in concept though.
There weren't many people there yet - just a few families at the bridge and a group of Young Folk in a white van who had ventured down a steep track with vehicle and then had to have at least half a dozen goes at getting it back up the slippery slope.



En route home we detoured to Séguret for the first time this stay in search of liquorice ice cream. It was obtained and pronounced excellent. I had lavender and fig.

Last night the Grande Rue party! Not the vast hordes of yesteryear, but a select gathering. The Maire and Corporation came to take a drink and wish us well AND ask us to vote for Sablet as le plus beau village de Vaucluse! There is a poll in a local rag and at the time of writing Sablet was top, even beating Gordes! Bit of a joke as other contenders are honestly more picturesque, but maybe less well loved by their residents.

We sat at our tables with food and wine brought by all. Chatted in the warm sunset and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Some of us made new friends. Poncho the Pomeranian (Louise's adopted pooch) meets local boy Finnigan the Scottie.

This morning is cooler. We went to market looking nervously at the dark skies to the north. Stallholders were putting up covers just in case and the jungle drums were passing on news. Our cheese lady said her friend up the river at Mornas had just phoned to say it was 'a deluge' there. And later another came into the café and announced it had reached Orange. We got the usual 'cinq gouttes'!

Another Monday morning

as the lugubrious pastor on Thought for the Day used to intone. Perhaps I should retitle the blog as Idle thoughts of an idle fellow. Not a great deal to recount.

I needed to see water so begged to be taken to the Rhône for a bracing stroll. The fave place is by the ruined château d'Hers near CN du Pâpe where you get bonus watercourses running parallel with the Mighty Rhône. Coo and lummy, how pretty. Clear water with vast fish. Heron starting up repeatedly and giving their less than elegant rasping call.
It is a conservation area and allegedly houses european beaver and pike inter alia.
I would have gone for miles but it was made clear that this was Not Prudent in such heat so reluctantly we returned to baking Berlingo.

However, the gravel road along the river eventually takes you to the place where the Meyne (for it was he, our pretty stream) joins his big brother. And at this point there is an old abandoned bridge, now on the schedule of historic monuments. Not that it is that ancient - only 1926 - but it is of local social importance.

Le pont d'Arméniers was built by public subscription to replace the three chain ferries that used to be the only means of transport across from the island of Oiselay. The inhabitants of this island in the stream produced vegetables in profusion and it was a bit of a b****** to get them over to civilisation via these ferries. The bridge did the job until 1975 when it was replaced by a road barrage alongside.

Quite an impressive structure with concrete pillars either side supporting a suspended iron and oak carriageway.

As is often the case we now found ourselves at midday far from home. The plan was to have a drink and sandwich in Violès but by the time we got there it was 1.15. The bar had no bread, nay, no food at all, left and we had to content ourselves with a Perrier and beer while a table of Chinese tourists next to us scoffed the last of the Pavé du boeuf with gratin dauphinois. Life can be very cruel.

Essential oils

To beat the heat you have to set off early, which we did this morning- Direction, Sault! Our goal was the walk round some of the lavender fields that carpet the slopes thereabouts. Now those of you know me well also know I am obsessed by lavender. I love it, and I love looking at it growing. So you won't be surprised to hear I took nearly forty photos. Only a selection here, whew!

The walk was about 5 km , mostly along quiet lanes and we saw very few people. Except this group of putative artists being taught how to paint with light.

And, most incongruously these Chinese folk wandering amongst the lavender taking photos of each other.

Really lovely landscape with a mixture of graphic rows of blue interspersed with slabs of golden barley. The whole is at once geometric and impressionistic.

The lines of lavender have a pointillist scatter of blond grasses running through them and the occasional patch of
poppy or golden flowers. Full of butterflies.

Some of the bushes have already been cut and have stacks of drying stalks heaped up in furrows. Ironically there is very little scent because you need to crush the leaves and flowers and we didn't feel we should march in and do that!

It took just over an hour and a half,  by which time it was midday. A one course lunch in a logis de France in Sault then home over Ventoux. We didn't stop at the top because a huge grey cloud descended as we summited and folk were observed in hoodies!

Cru !

Market day. Busy but still we got there early enough to grab supplies and have coffee. But too early to buy one of the tagines. They were only just lighting the fires!

Spot the difference

After the market we stopped in at the Cairanne Coop to buy some wine to take home. Always nice, their wine. As we were about to pay a chap with a pallet load of bottles adressed Adrian in a very excited voice announcing ' C'est cru!' Now the word cru can mean 'raw' so it took a mo for the penny to drop. But he went on to say this was the first day they were allowed to sell it and that was why he was buying so much. He was one of the producers.

So to explain... Cairanne used to be part of the Appellation Côtes du Rhône Villages as a named village. See the label on the left above.

 As of today, 23 July, they are their own Appellation - a Cru - just like Gigondas, Châteauneuf du Pâpe, etc. The 2015 is the first label to say Cairanne, Appellation Cairanne Protégée. See the proud bottle.

And even better we were their first customers to buy any. Even the lady in charge hadn't yet tried a bottle so we shared the first tasting!
Of course, it is delicious.

Water

It has been so hot these last few days that we've not done a great deal. Yesterday morning it got too much for us- we had to escape! So we went down to the river Aigues just under Villedieu and found a track that lead to the scrubby willow banks and the remaining channels. To be honest there wasn't much going on. A couple of wagtails, frogs and fish, interesting flowers and bushes. In the mud beneath the water I spotted traces of heron...lots of footprints.

Then we dropped in on the local coop that produces that most rare of things - delicious Chardonnay! Not that awful oaked American style. I bought a bottle last year and was amazed how nice it is. Great R 4 parked outside.

There was a poster for an art exhibition in the window. Just a local thing in a little chapel but it was close by so we tracked it down.  A charming young musician and self taught painter was sitting outside, working on his Mac. Some of the work was not bad. He said he only spoke a little English - ha ha. Lovely proper accent, and anyone who can use the word Randomness correctly when describing a technique  - well in my book they speak pretty good English!

Had lunch in Roaix, where to Adrian's amazement there was both rabbit and calves liver on the menu (and ravioli thank goodness). Dilemma. Which to choose? The decision was made for him. The liver was on a first come first served basis (it is really popular) so you had to give a second choice. As they were so busy, by the time it came, guess what? Yes, rabbit. But apparently delicious. By now I was drooping from heat and we flaked out in the middle room watching a hundred fit blokes struggle through the Alps.

Eventually the skies grew dark and we had a bit of rain. Lightning over to the north as we sat on the terrace trying to cool down. Then in the middle of the night Armageddon overhead and torrential downpour. Today the storms continued on and off but it is still humid. All we could manage was twenty minutes round the vines at 6.30.

But the window boxes appreciated it!

If it's Wednesday...

...it must be Malaucène. And it is although we both said it felt like Saturday. The days all merge into one! What it is though, I think because we didn't go to Ste Cécile on Saturday but we did go to Malaucène market today, our programming is out of kilter. Needs a reboot. Added to which we had coffee and croissants in the bar. An added treat today was a free organ concert in the church at 11.



Only 45 minutes but we were in the cool interior and it was very soothing. The organist is some well-known Dutchman whose name I did not catch and he was accompanied by a colleague flautist, also very good. One somewhat bizarre incident came half way through when the side door opened and a man came through pushing a sack trolley loaded with boxes. Then proceeded to carry them across the altar and into the vestry - all in total silence. If you'd had your eyes closed you'd never have known. I said to myself 'ah, a bulk delivery of votive candles.' As a joke. But blow me if that's not exactly what it was - the chap introducing the music apologised at the end for the interruption!

And now, Gardeners' Question Time. You might recall that upon arrival the oleanders and perovskia were shrivelled and sad. But thanks to intensive care they are once more a flowery delight. And they have friends - two straggly petunia plants given by Deb. I cut them back, watered and fed them, chanted spells and see! Beautiful.

Even old Russian Sage has perked up. We also had a plague of thrips which I have hopefully now vanquished with soapy lavender water and chemical warfare. Had to take life into hands at first squishing them daily on the oleanders. Oleanders are poisonous - even touching them is dangerous apparently -  so I had to assiduously remember to wash hands every time I went fossicking.

Fairy wings

you what!?  Indulge me... The heat is back, the wind has dropped so we just had an easy walk this morning. Parked the car between Vacqueyras and Beaumes at the topiary picnic area and strolled along the banks of the canal into Beaumes. All the way there were clouds of lovely dark blue damsel flies.

It was interesting to walk behind the road. You see all sorts of houses with beautiful grounds that are well hidden from the roadside.

And a distant view of the gross concrete hands outside the Beaumes Cooperative.

It was a there and back obviously so our reward came in Vacqueyras, Café du Cours under the plane trees  ... Perrier, Perrier... Across the road, the wine shop had a great window display of old berlingot (humbugs) sweets. Including a berlingot machine!

Windy

It is still blowing but at least it's bit warmer. Yesterday we went for a long walk round the vines at midday, something we could never normally do at this time of year. The noise was colossal - a mixture of roaring through the trees and manic cicadas. But fabulous.

Today, a visit to Puyméras for wine and breakfast. Ste Cécile market is relocated this week because of their Fête Votive and many of our favourite stalls don't bother to go. Instead of it being in the square it stretches out down a lane into the vines. Bit of a slog to get from one end to the other. Plus the square is full of fairground rides which are pretty ghastly!
Puyméras is a pretty village north of Vaison. Somewhat second homes but still a working village and the café has been reborn. It never used to be open and looked like a haunt of hunters. Now it is more modern and Open! Coffee so so and the bakery had run out of croissants, but never mind. And an amazing vegetable garden by the school

Roadsiding on Bastille Day

Full album on flickr (Le Tour)

Well, bit of a fiasco at the end wasn't it!  We'd seen the crowds already on the mountain on Monday and a lot of them just had to be moved off the summit last night because of the winds.

Beforehand, we set out around 2 to get to St Pierre de Vassols where we thought we'd find a quiet spot. Ha Ha Ha. We soon realised that le monde et sa femme et leur chien had chosen the same viewpoint. We had to park outside the village and walk a kilometre to the roadside.

There we pushed ourselves through the throng to get to a vantage point on the bend. I should mention it was blowing a gale which is why they curtailed the finish and stopped short of the summit. And chilly too. Cardigan was deployed! Anyway I found a wall to perch on for the next two hours and watched the spectacle unfold.

First the Caravane of sponsors on eccentric floats with young folk throwing goodies at the crowd. And the Gendarmerie Recruitmernt cars, Police Nationale vehicles, Département publicity, Health and Safety (obvs no one up the mountain took any heed of them!) team cars, Tour admin etc etc.

This goes on for about an hour. Then you get the Tour Merchandise vans selling t-shirts, water bottles, umbrellas and the like.

Finally, people with mobile phones get info from friends and rellies farther back down the route. The Coureurs are on their way. A car flashing lights
zooms by telling us there is a breakaway of four riders. The clincher is the sound of helicopters.

And then cheers from up the road and bikes swoop round the bend. You see nothing, hope to
snap at least one rider, delerium from the spectators, and they are gone.  Here is Bryan Coquard, we identified him from his number later.

Then more groups arrive, more cheers, more excitement. Until it is over. The Fin de Course van passes. We all leave, thank the Gendarme
who kept us safe, and trek back to the car glad that we came and were part of it.

Totally bonkers yet we couldn't not be there even though we'd have seen far more on the TV coverage. It took us an hour to get out of the village, there were such thousands there.

Sur la route du Tour

First off...Parabéns, Portugal !

If only!

In an attempt to cool down we set off betimes to Man Mountain. Had to be chilly up top surely. And as the Tour is descending  or rather ascending on Thursday this might be the last chance before they shut down access. As it happens we would have had until Wednesday but as today is also a rest day there is nothing to rush back for on telly. Win win as they say in Lisboa!

It was actually quite fresh at 10 am as we parked up by the radar dome. Mad people were already pedalling up from Malaucène and the summit was nicely busy with worthy folk in lycra getting their picture taken. Others just film it themselves.
We probably spent a couple of hours walking along the ridge admiring the view and the glorious miniature flowers tucked into crevices.

We could smell sheep...it's my inner wolf! But none to be seen despite coming across Patou asleep by the chapel. I think they are fenced off for their and the cyclists' safety this week.

After a cup of coffee at the café we descended
towards Bédoin through the mayhem of campervans already in position for the Passage du Tour. Some of them looked like they'd been here for days. Washing lines, tables and chairs with people having lunch, dogs, bikes, flags.

And Loos. It's like Glastonbury.

Every now and then there were enclosures full of motorhomes, stalls, refreshment bars. All quietly eccentric and seemingly self policing. No notices or threatening signs.

Lunch in Bédoin itself despite it being heaving and market
day. We found a pretty little restaurant tucked behind some stalls and got in just before the hordes. Delicious plat du jour (côte du porc with grain mustard sauce and rats and chips) cooked on an open fire...I know, on a day like today! But it was cool inside and they turned the music down without demur.

Festival fun

so hot that we went out at 8 a.m. for an hour's walk before retiring to our darkened rooms. Well not exactly...we did pop out for bread and cakes and drinks at the bar during the book fair. And Deb winkled us round to hers for G and T (Noilly for me) later.

Spent the afternoon watching Tour go through the Pyrenees and Andorra, which looked far more smart than the rutted road bazaar it used to be.
Tonight there is a big screen by the bar for the natives to watch the footie final. I imagine support is evenly spread as we have quite a few Portugeese round here.