Across the Great Divide

We left slightly later it being Sunday and no caffs likely to be open before 9. It was rainy and a bit lacking in interest as we headed north. But we made good time and stopped right by St Brieuc after only an hour! Seems like we’ve finally found a quick route between the coasts. 

Anyway Châtelaudren it was, a place previously found to serve Good Coffee. Excellent boulangerie once more full of these amazing rustic breads. Who needs a Panasonic! I weakened and bought a slab of ‘Maxi’ - a dense cartwheel of a thing full of raisins and hazelnuts. (have subsequently had it sliced and toasted, and also raw, with butter…mmm ). Coffee this time was not battalion strength, but tasty and only €4.20 for three!

Another hour and a bit and we were in Roscoff searching for onions to take back to Robert at The Grove. I had a €10 note he’d given us so felt obliged to get them. None of the farm gate sales was showing a light but we know a little grocers in the centre that always has some and luckily it was one of the few places open. Got a 5kilo net for €6 and a small tresse For €3.40 so I’ll keep 60 cents for me trouble!

Surcouf was also open so I whipped in and booked for Midday. Then we just stood under an awning for 15 minutes to keep out of the downpour. Lunch was good - French onion soup, monkfish in a creamy sauce of lardons and vegetables topped oddly with slices of nice hard conference pear! Adrian had the marmite of fish and vegetables under a pastry crust. Litre of cider, no room for puds.

And then…the port, the ferry, and off. Stood on deck for a while watching the Galicia cross our bow on its way from Portsmouth to Spain then down to the bar for tea and cake and finally to our cabin where we snuggled down for the duration. It was a bit rough up top  I think but we were comfy. The heavens opened over Plymouth making it a bit of a nail biter driving out of the city then at Tavistock it just stopped. Home by 11ish. Everything in the garden is still flowering, there’s even a courgette. 

Vannes

We are here in another Kyriad. Not quite as fine as last night in La Rochelle but not bad. However, we will draw a veil over yesterday’s journey! It rained as we left Sarlat but we were in good spirits having had a nice meal in the old town the previous night and anticipating a good breakfast in Lalinde. Then the first of what proved to be a day full of Routes Barrées hit us. We were detoured 30 km over the other side of the River Dordogne through undeniably pretty countryside but so far off our route that really we should have rebooted! We didn’t but continued up and down through woods and valleys at one point passing the surreal site of the front section of an aircraft fuselage emblazoned Aero Lloyd, just plonked in a field. We later discovered via Google that it had been bought by some chap to display in his grounds after the plane was scrapped. 

Anyway onwards…Lalinde finally hoved into view and we parked up opposite the bar we’d previously visited on a warmer sunnier day when the market was on and all was bustling. Today it was wet, gloomy, everything not yet open, Boulangerie closed and only a dépot de pain at Casino. I bought four solid feeling croissants and we sat inside with our (very good) coffees. The place began to fill with men of a certain age all clustering round a large table and bunching up to make room as another appeared until finally there were about a dozen or so. All laughing, convivial, and served with seemingly no ordering by the stout proprietor bearing a cup of coffee for each new arrival. It is a rugby bar and we have conjectured that the owner was once a prop forward!

We had more coffees - loathe to go out into the downpour. But tempus fugitted and off we went into wine country between Bergerac and Pomerol. More routes barrées sent us into a maze of unclassified lanes with no signposts. I was getting a headache and feeling sick from peering at the tiny print of the map in a moving car. Tempers were frayed. 

At last we got to Lussac and bought vast delicious sandwiches from an amazing boulangerie full of breads of all description. This time we did reboot and I sent us straight to the top end of the Gironde estuary past the Escargot Roundabout and into Mortagne. Then rapidly bypassing Royan hoping for a speedy entry into La Rochelle. Ha ha! Another roadworks loomed up and we were lost in Saujon with signs telling us to go via Saintes!! Not bloody likely says I, and we wove our way onto the country roads through the marshes. Rochefort was signed, the transporter bridge was in view and we were soon in the Kyriad La Rochelle exhausted but triumphant. Lovely huge room, stylish. Two windows, wet room. And only two mins to del Arte for pizza and wine.

Today was much better. A fine morning as we crossed the marshes to Luçon. Cathedral bell tolling melodiously as we sipped yet more excellent coffee, this time with good croissants. And I found Adrian a new Héron and Héron lighthouse book in the bookshop!

Continuing up the coast we spent an hour or so in Les Sables d’Olonne strolling along the Prom in the sun though acutely aware of the oncoming bank of thick grey. 

People were on the beach and surfers surfing. All very jolly and bracing! Then we drove round to the other side of the harbour for looks at lighthouses before the final stretch.

Lunch was a bag of crisps and a clementine under le pont de St Nazaire in Brévin. Then an hour more to Vannes Kyriad. Not  as luxurious as La Rochelle but twill serve nicely. Just had crêpes down on the port and bonded with a French family over the arcane payment system at the Q parks underground carpark!

https://photos.app.goo.gl/Lo7qXjXsjE5QccZK9

The rains came

At 7 am as we were packing. Absolute downpour outside the hotel as we gazed in alarm from our balcony. No coats and the car at least a street away! So we tiptoed down despite the fact that we were in the Hotel Marie Celeste, left the key at the empty desk and ran for it. Destination Marseillan for petit déj.

There we discovered that the town was in the throes of roadworks and there was no parking to be had, Having made several passes round we found one space reasonably close to a bar, put on waterproofs and splashed our way in. Asked where nearest boulangerie was…of course miles away. So off I trots like Little Blue Riding Hood to gather goodies for my wolves. 

Once I am returned with viennoiseries and sandwiches the three coffees are delivered and we settle down. Nice bar, clean, modernish. Until it all turns a touch Clochemerle. One by one locals appear, obviously driven inside by the weather. They greet each other with remarks about the rain being good for frogs, snails and the end of the mushroom season. One has a dog. It circles about and proceeds to poo on the floor. No one bats an eyelid, owner calmly clears it up and takes dog outside! I am in mid bite of a pain aux raisins and nearly choke. Owner and dog duly return and carry on as if nothing had happened.

We finished off our visit to the sea with the usual walk to the end of the quay. All now inexorably gentrified and smart but we like it. The rain eased off and we sadly made our departure north. Up the A75, over the Millau Viaduct and on and on swapping vines for pasture, cows and sheep. 

For some reason we detoured via that Queen of Tourist Traps, Rocamadour, perched on its river cliff. Not exactly heaving but there were  goodness knows how many carparks which is an indication of the potential nightmare it must be!

Sarlat by three - into Ibis where we have a huge room with separate alcove for Adam. A bit of blue sky appears so we traipsed into town and hoped for the best.  Harrumph…it rained, but only a short burst.

In the end it was a bit of a marathon complete with stops for tea and coffee until we could get into a restaurant. But that was very good and the walk back to the hotel strangely easy (downhill!).

A day at the seaside

Was what we planned. But somewhat of a cockup round Montpellier made it more like an afternoon. Anyway we left on time and found breakfast in a nice little town in the Camargue where bulls are the main crop. Arena in the middle of town next to the church, metal gates on the ends of streets for when they run the bulls, roundabouts featuring statues of men on horses rounding up bulls. Then we went wrong…missed a turning to Palavas and found ourselves being funnelled into the city! Nothing for it but to about face and take the motorway down to the Sète exit.

Once in Sète the true horror was revealed. Not only is it hot weather but also School half term and Wednesday market day The place was gridlocked. Streets closed off for markets, children, people, bikes, cars …aagh. I have never seen it so busy. Eventually we made it up to the relative calm of the Cimetière Marin and lighthouse where there are wonderful views. 

Then up to the top for the real panorama - once more full of people with huge numbers of children.

And off to the other side of the hill to look over the lagoon and long beach we have so often enjoyed - vines of  Picpoul de Pinet between the étang and the sea.

We moved on to Bouzigues - busy but not too bad and no one much at the Tabarka end where the latines are moored. Despite the fact Bouzigues has but one bar not even on the waterfront road we found fruit juices served in a clothes shop! very welcome they were too.

Finally to our hotel in Mèze where we seem to be the only guests! No staff here overnight so we must leave keys at the desk in the morning…we feel like raiding the other rooms for loo roll! But we have a big room with large balcony overlooking the town and it’s comfortable. 

A nice but quite expensive dinner by the harbour in a stylish restaurant with rather strange light effects.

The End is Nigh

Our last few days have been sun filled and warm - until last night when Adrian finally got his storm! We’d been to Bédoin in the morning, not for the market but to visit the village. Once you walk up into the streets above the market the din suddenly ceases and it is really quiet up by the church. Now thoroughly restored, if somewhat severely. And it was hot. Too many people in the streets below so we escaped to Caromb for coffee and another village inspection.

The former grandees of Caromb did not encourage the washing of dirty linen in public- this ornate fountain n’est pas un lavoir! Look carefully and you will see a rim of metal hooks around the edge. Specifically designed to shred the fibres of any sheets or garment! To be fair, it was really to stop soap being introduced into the water which was intended for animals to drink, and other proper lavoirs were installed elsewhere.

So today started grey after the storm, but soon brightened.  We are busy packing up and having lunch in Roaix, outside again hooray. 

Then distributing my cyclamen to the neighbours.

Off tomorrow to Mèze via Sète

Obsessed by herons

I know… but some people have lighthouses, others Eurovision. Me, I like herons. So today was a goodie! 

We’d been up to Rasteau for the weekly walk. Roses out in profusion at the ends of the vines. You’d think it was midsummer. A mixed flock of dogs with their female keepers passed us as we sat by the barrels under the pines. Bells tinkling at their necks - what a sensible idea. The two black and white spaniels among them dashed hither and yon, tongues lolling drunkenly to one side. Ecstatic and oblivious to the direction of travel until I pointed out the way.

The bar welcomed us after the allotted hour’s stroll and we had drinks various in the hot sun. 

Too nice to return and the days are now cruelly truncated by Le Passage à l’Heure d’Hiver. So we made the most of the remaining afternoon sun and headed out to Entrechaux and the Roman bridge where ladies were sunning themselves on the river bank and a party of older folk were enjoying a noisy déjeuner sur l’herbe - well sur boulders really. 

And then, in flew Monsieur Héron who stood in the shallows and looked around for his own snack. The river is very low for the time of year so I hope he found something.

These are but a few of the photos - there are one or two more on the album and I have ruthlessly culled the rest!

Herons and hallucinations

 

After the final visit to Ste Cécile we were off to The Rhône for TGV, Heron and calm waters. 

We drove down the usual rabbit hole lanes the other side of the A7 at Mornas alongside fields that had grown sunflowers now thickly green with the cabbage cover crop. And cyclists of course since they’ve aménagéd it all. But once beyond the TGV line and onto the digue all was wild and empty. 

St Etienne des Sorts was floating above its reflection in the mist across the water. Swans were swimming, herons roosting. Bliss.

Trains thundered by regularly but the herons are immune to this now and create their own raucous din as they fly about chasing off their youngsters. 

So many of them, posing temptingly in the treetops until you get one step too close and off they go - vast wings scooping and bending in the air.

Hell’s Bells! yes this is they I am sure. Datura of some sort - witches’ brew plant. A small stand of them growing on the slope. ☠️

We came back via Sérignan  home of Jean-Henri Fabre the entomologist. Followed by a car wash in Ste Cécile and the remains of last night’s pizza  for a late lunch on the terrace.

https://photos.app.goo.gl/Lo7qXjXsjE5QccZK9

Roaming in the Drôme

 

The weather continues mild, even hot! Jumpers not required… We’ve pottered here and there to St Hilaire and Beaumes and Malaucène and Suzette. Yuccas are truly gloriosa this year - everywhere. 

On the way back from Beaumes along the canal we had to stop to allow this giant caterpillar to cross safely. Some sort of hawkmoth - provably the striped hawkmoth.

Today it was a big trip up north to Crest through the lovely Drôme. 

Detouring to observe TGVs crossing a viaduct - as you do. But this viaduct is one we saw actually being constructed many years ago while staying in a nearby village. A trip down memory lane…aah.

Crest sports the tallest keep in France and Adam and I climbed the hundreds of steps up to it. Adrian did not. 

It is not a large town and it sits close to the river. Somewhat run down but still with some fine buildings. We had an interesting plat du jour by the river - pork rib chop with a strange pink sauce that proved to be Port (presumably in crème fraîche). Very nice actually.

Then back via the gorges and a stop for refreshments in Dieulefit. 

I say refreshment but in fact it was hot chocolate thick enough to stand a spoon in. In a delightfully shabby chic establishment.

As ever lots more pix on the album

The Sunlit Uplands

The clouds dispersed and now we awake to short lived duvet grey. Soon booted out by sunshine. It is ridiculously warm with temperatures up to 25 and not falling much below 19 at night. Last night we had tea (cups of) on the terrace at 10.30. A brief glow of lightning was seen far to the north.

Adam arrived safely in Avignon at 6.45 only 25 minutes late despite chaos at St Pancras and delay in Gare de Lyon. The first a result of administrative incompetence, the second was unattended luggage.

And now a word about bird life. Starlings to be precise…

Thousands of them swooping and shapeshifting over the vines like a moving monochrome Pointilliste painting in the sky. We drove under them across the plain then watched them from the terrace, listening to their cheerful chattering. In Ste Cécile they were sparkling and dancing about in the plane trees above our heads outside the Bar de l’Union pretending to be blackbirds or redstarts, magpies, buzzards, car alarms…whatever they were practising today! Joyful spirit raising little creatures.

Old Man River

 

aka Le Rhône…

We haven’t been for a while and as the weather is still so amazing thought we’d better not tempt Providence by waiting too long. Rain is a constant worry at this time of year despite the clear blue skies. And well, why not burn some fuel!The strike is bound to end soon. Yesterday we stayed close to home, only venturing to Roaix then a walk above Villedieu so we needed a change.

On the way to Caderousse we have oft spotted a sign by a gate saying Cidre, Jus de Pommes and not stopped. Well Cider isn’t exactly what you expect in Provence! Though why not? They grow zillions of apples down here by the river. So today we drove in down the earth track lined with netted trees and came to a somewhat battered yet distinguished dwelling with a painted sign saying Klaxonnez! 

Which we did, and by and by, a small tractor pulling trailers of apples chugged into view. A man of few words confirmed there was cider and juice for sale and how much did we want. 

A box of six bottles of cider and a 3 litre box of juice was thus obtained and he went on his way back to his orchards where he’d obviously been busy harvesting until these blessed foreigners interrupted!

Onward to the destination…the bridges of - not Madison County - but the Rhône. Always a good spot for interesting sights. We ducked off the road across the smartened up cycle track and onto the gravel tracks beside the river. Abandoned Skoda to his fate and walked along the water’s edge. 

There were Herons, loads of them, swans, cormorant, butterflies and aromatic wild herbs. And the water was like a millpond with wonderful reflections. Do check out the Google album my dears… I am quite proud of some of today’s snaps.

At midday the TGV’s came thick and fast. A sinister black delta wing roared overhead, a kite disappeared up a thermal, swans and herons played chicken with the motorway traffic, flying low between the lorries.

Home for lunch on the terrace, entertained by rooftop-skimming Helicopter training and Patrouille newbies on Air Display 101 - learning to fly in formation.