The church bells only ring once

 

A strange phenomenon. We were sitting on a wall in Beaumes after walking into town from Notre Dame d’Aubune along the canal. As is our wont of a Tuesday. Expecting a coffee at the Bar du Siècle. Disappointment awaited - they are having a week’s holiday. So pondering our next move, there we were on the wall. Church clock struck 11 and Himself says ‘we’ll set off back after the second strike.’ It never came. We went for lunch in Roaix as a consolation!

Wednesday is Malaucène market so we were there at the butchers with a long wish list! I think it’s Adrian’s mission to try everything despite the UK’s  dire economic situation and every transaction costing a considerable amount. Reeling from the hit to our credit card we took comfort in the sunny bar with coffee and viennoiseries. The place is awash with those from Northern climes in their camper vans and on bikes. 

We drove back via Suzette heart in mouth as the streams of lycra clad enthusiasts careered down the twisty road towards us. 

Once safely up the hill we did a little walk and drank in the glorious views. Always reviving.

Then last night at the Danes in the company of our usual suspects the conversation turned to the Sablet clock. Apparently that too is only striking the once. Is it some energy saving wheeze we questioned. No one knew. But we were now alert to the mystery and yes, only one go at guessing the hour now.

Anyway today we had our window surrounds painted in white to pick out the lovely grey shutters. It does nothing for the less than lovely rendering, but no matter. Mr Boukersanna did his magic, hanging out of windows precariously and while he was painting I asked if he knew what was up with our bells. Apparently some electronic problem he thinks. But odd that this should also afflict Beaumes.

Everything changes

 

Not least the weather forecast! The promised rain has failed to materialise and we have glorious blue sky and sun…and a bit of a chill wind. However in Villedieu the square is sheltered and we sat with powerful coffees warming ourselves in the sunshine. New tables and chairs - very smart.

Then to Gravillas with bidon in hand for some wine only to find that they no longer do it from the pump! So had to buy a 5 litre box. Oh woe…the old traditions are disappearing. 

Some late harvest grapes were being delivered and perfumed the air as they were fed into the archimedes screw and separated from their stalks.

A wet homecoming

Well of course we weakened and had a steaming bowl of cassoulet with salad. Too much even for us! 

Last night there was a brief thundery downpour but all was clear again as we left this morning. We know from years of bitter disappointment that the western Minervois is bereft of café bars but we live in hope. The nearby town of Bram looked promising - brightly lit boulangeries, boucheries, charcuteries, fleuriste… But the only bar was firmly closed. And so it continued. The Minervois villages are dreary and drab all huddled in on themselves. We never see a bar. Even Homps where there’s a canal basin. I realise there must be places but they do not manifest themselves along our route. It improves near Narbonne (of course it does) and we did pass a roadside establishment outside Bize that had folk at tables. But by then we were set on Capestang where we know there are bars a’plenty. There were and we sat in the sun contented. Neither of us could face so much as a croissant after last night! 

I emailed Liz to say we were within sight of home and she responded that it was raining in Sablet and set to do so all week! What? Here in the Hérault all was blue sky and sun. However, as we joined the  A9 for a quick final stretch, we could see the pall of cloud ahead settled over Vaucluse. The first drops fell just after Nîmes and by the time we were near Avignon we were immersed in grey cloud with wipers on full speed.

It cleared a bit after Orange (quick dash into Intermarché for milk etc) and as we came within sight of the Dentelles it was rather pretty with white clouds clinging to the rocks and Ventoux visible above them.

House is still standing. No apparent problems. All unpacked.

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

Red hot chili peppers to pork and beans

Only five miles inland from the coast and we were in a different world. Behind us the bustle and sparkle of St Jean and before us the pastures of sheep and cattle, up and down winding roads and farmsteads all overtopped by the shadowy Pyrenees. Today in their Eminence Grise mode, not sharp and snow topped.

Breakfast in the bandbox neat village of Ascain. Green and red timbered stone houses and a welcoming bar hotel with its own croissants. And a butcher who did everything including sandwiches and Basque cider. Then a little way on to The Basque Village - Espelette. Home to the famous chili peppers. 

Every building adorned. We were sorry to have already eaten as the bars looked most inviting and I reckon you’d get a proper thick hot chocolate in any one of them. Another time…And we’d hoped to buy more tea towels but the shop didn’t open until 10. Yes…another time. These are no ordinary kitchen linen but locally woven in the traditional colours and very smart contemporary designs. We last got some over thirty years ago in St Jean Pied de Port. They last well! Anyway I took far too many pix so most are on the Google album (link on yesterday’s post and in the side bar)

On we wandered across the bottom of France. Still in Basque country with the red and green houses and odd language. You gradually recognise some words. So different from up north - no vines, not many crops apart from maize and - oddly - kiwi fruit. Huge pelota Fronton Walls in every village. 

And wayward flocks of sheep that suddenly career down the road with a couple of outrider vehicles and the faithful Patou dog. 

These are cheese sheep- appellation contrôlée cheese at that. Ossau Iraty.

Then gradually Basque becomes Béarn and the houses get hipped roofs. More cows, bigger fields and, at last, some vines. Jurançon. And the mountains loom. We spotted Pic du Midi with its meteorological station, far back in the chain of huge peaks.

Sandwich stop in a town called Ney. Home to the Musée du Béret. Who knew! The things one comes across on a random journey. 

We sat by the river where an enormous crane was waving above our heads with some serious plumbing for a new boating and fishing facility. Bit alarming!

Then something we rarely do - a bit of motorway. We had a long way to go and the weather looked a bit grey so we did a chunk of the A64 to get us along. But really you get no idea of what a country is like from the motorway. No little quirks or discoveries. Eventually it deposited us just south of Toulouse within easy reach of Castelnaudary where we currently reside in Ibis Budget about to walk ten paces to the Cassoulet Restaurant! We may eat something else though.

Down the coast

 

Another pre dawn start. And chilly! Car beeped at us 4 degrees… We started off in the rich and gorgeous streets of Le Pyla with villas and grand houses each one with a lane down to the sea. A final peep across to the Cap Ferret light, blinking in the dawn pink sky and a look across to the somewhat scorched Dune du Pyla. Unsurprisingly we found the road under the dune completely closed off so had to weave our way inland before rejoining the coast. Very pretty though - smart villages bustling with life. In fact actually everywhere is a bit too busy! Holiday season definitely extending and civic works everywhere. 

We popped  down to a few beach spots for a walk and experience the sun and waves. Resolutely turning our cameras away from the urban horrors behind…apartment blocks, restaurant complexes etc. 

Must have been lovely before tourism! But the endless stretch of golden sand from The Gironde to Spain, and the pounding glittery waves is compensation for pretty much anything.

By 11 it was hot again and we stopped off just north of Bayonne at a relatively quiet spot with only two cafés and no buildings to eat our sandwiches on the sand. Bayonne - ah, lovely town. Graphic Basque architecture reminiscent of Rennie Macintosh - all straight bars and strong colours. Smart black electric bendy buses, old bridges across the river, Twin spire cathedral. Love it. But we didn’t stop this time. St Jean/Ciboure called and the driver was getting tired.

St Jean is heaving so we are not planning to hit town this time. Instead we have a panoramic view of the port from our room on the 5th floor plus a direct bird’s eye look down onto the railway where a TGV has just crawled past. Probably just saunter along into Ciboure - a mere hundred or so metres and quieter.

I have done a google photo album that will be updated daily with snaps of places and things of interest

France Autumn photos 22 

Much better

A good night’s sleep and up at 6.15 for the drive to Royan and the 9.30 ferry. Had to be there no later than 9. The sun was only just yawning and stretching and didn’t even poke its head above the horizon until we were across the Rochefort bridge and we motored on through the marshes with skeins of geese and ducks and egrets commuting to their breakfasting grounds. 

Of course we were there miles too early but better early than late! A couple of intrepids were gingerly going in for a swim, retreating after about twenty minutes for the dash up the beach to home.

Eventually the ferry was seen ploughing across from the other side and we were swiftly loaded and off.

What a way to start the day - good coffee and passable croissants from the bar on board, wonderful views of Cordouan, the estuary and its settlements.

Once on the Médoc side we pottered about up to the blokhaus for views then down into the dunes in search of…guess…a lighthouse. This one is hidden. St Nicolas. It lurks in the forest by the nudie beaches. 

Thankfully unpopulated today as we reenacted a scene from Ice Cold in Alex, trudging up slithery fine sand dunes to try to spot it. Eventually I did - its head peeking above the trees. So down we went onto a path that by and by came to the phare. We could have driven right up to it!

Next expedition was down the estuary to find yet more old lights. Phare de Richard was the first and turned out to be somewhat of a honeypot! very lovely spot on the river with bunting and anchors and fishing huts.

Sandwiches by another little port and fancy wine château. The vendange has begun and the fields were heaving with pickers. And finally it was down to Pauillac before we left the river and moved over to the sea. 

Cap Ferret to be precise. For another visit to…yes! a lighthouse. We last went there years ago and even climbed to the top. But it was busy today so we contented ourselves with paying our respects. Busy is the word - the whole peninsula was full of late holidaymakers, endless shops and cafés and tasteful villas.

Once again we hit rush hour and stop-started our way round the Bassin to the strangely named Greet Hotel (a new Ibis acquisition) in Teste de Buch. Very nice actually. The restaurant I’d earmarked for supper was closed so we walked through streets of dinky little houses to the port where there’s a rooftop place overlooking the water. It looked rather cocktail barish and hopes were not high. Even worse it as full and they were expecting several private parties. But we had to eat so ordered tapas. Waitress appeared to say my chili prawn dish was off so I had to quickly think of an alternative. Can you believe it all I could come with was Octopus! I mean…with my principles. We were expecting a ramekin of little stewed ones but no. What was brought was a whole one barbecued and which the waiter carved before our eyes. 39 euros and worth every cent. It was delicious.   Hate Self!

not the best day

Yesterday we boarded the ole favourite Armorique our ears and eyes still resounding with the sights and sounds of HM’s funeral. Very impressive and rather moving. Glad we were able to see it. On board we had a free supper of Salade Niçoise, Ten prawns, chocolate mousse and dessert du jour (a cream concoction with red fruits). A smooth crossing but I couldn't sleep for some reason. Last off the ship this morning so we were a little late getting breakfast. 

Before that we had to track down a lighthouse! Overlooking the Morlaix inlet in an achingly picturesque setting in the morning haze, damp with dew, aroma of cows and twittering birds. Then to equally charming village nearby for the cheapest croissants and coffee ever (total €5.10) in a bustling café overlooking the water.

After which the day grew tedious. Roadworks, missed turns, traffic, deviations…took us until 1.30 to get to La Roche Bernard for boiled eggs by the river followed by coffee and ice-cream in the adjacent café. We abandoned our plan to take the river ferry and headed for the St Nazaire bridge. Then we hit the horror that is La Roche sur Yonne, which gets worse each time. They are doing mega road building, nothing is signed, traffic nose to tail. By the time we were in the Luçon marshes it was well after 5 pm and commuter traffic was pouring out of La Rochelle getting stuck in one way workings by the swing bridge. We wove our way into town and eventually got to the hotel just before 7! But fortunately Del Arte is next door (under our window even) so all we had to do was stagger a few metres to get good pizza, risotto and WINE.

Tomorrow is another day🤗