AND SO OFF. This brief resumé is simply an outline account for me to keep a handle on what transpired as we journeyed to Sablet this first time in the year, and associate the odd image here and there with our progress south. I do make brief notes normally but they are without imagery or descriptives:- essentially a did this, did that, sort-of-a-thing. Perhaps this post will be similar, who knows, here goes . . .
WE WERE UP AT FOUR PM (0400 if you insist) on 20th inst and such is the efficiency of our operations at that time of the day, we were smartly away at 0435, in light drizzle. we drove via Exeter and Honiton through to Poole and had three-quarters of an hour spare before the reporting deadline. Once on board the trusty Barfleur (upon which we have so often crossed over to La France, and can still recall the son-and-heir playing in the toddler play area as a toddler, and the teeth gritting this caused at times). The ship has been about a bit since then mind but has been tastefully refitted at least once to retain a degree of contemporary comfort. We gave little heed however: after eating some shockingly leathery toast we took to our day cabin and caught up on the sleep we missed out on getting up so early, so that we were refreshed for our exit onto Francofirma at Cherbourg, a mostly sunny afternoon drive to a late lunch of home provender in the car, in a car park, in the enticing looking town of Bricquebec.
After this pause we missed our planned onward road by a turn so took the more westerly alternative down to Avranches and our hotel. Which we found without mishap or further missed turnings. After dumping our kit we trundled into town to locate a crêperie and before enjoying that, went into the hillside park to view Mont St. Michel backlit by the rays of the westering sun. All good; crêpes, hotel and night's rest most satisfactory.
THE SECOND DAY OF TRAVEL [21st] was the longest in miles, prosecuted under cloudless skies and moderately warm sun, after a chilly start. An excellent if pricey pair of grande-crêmes with first division croissants only five miles on at Ducey set us up nicely for the day. Nothing untoward occurred (sorry, this is probably not what you were hoping for) and we enjoyed our progression through pleasant, if not spectacular countryside, on mostly quiet roads. Around mid-day we crossed the bridge below, turned back and ate the excellent sandwiches we had purchased earlier at Ducey on the riverside illustrated herewith and below. This was at a village called Lavardin and the river is Le Loir (not The Loire but a principle tributary of same…) – chiff-chaffs singing, ducks dabbling and light breezes riffling the silven flow. Most pleasant.
Thereafter, Mrs Melling took the odd corner off our route en route and added the odd extra mile here and there; there was some confusion at Blois, even the odd unkind word was exchanged, but all in all we had a most convivial drive right into the centre of Bourges for a revisit to the city's spiffing cathedral.
It took a while to find our hotel from this slightly unplanned approach to Bourges : the traffic was heavy and we got ourselves on the right road but in the wrong direction for a short while; but it came right in the end. So it was that we drove out to St Florent sur Cher for a pizza, the only place open and as luck would have it, most acceptable. We also gave the Skoda some victuals but I am sorry to say the motor from thence forward was loathe to start promptly; I wonder if the fuel was a bit gritty or something -- it came from a reputable source. Anyway, it worried me and at time of writing it still does, slightly. Dash it, it is almost new!
Some additional variation was employed to better take in the Loire Gorges, flooded and dammed to provide hydro-electric power and possibly some water, to Roanne etc.
Lovely weather. Quiet and often deceptively narrow roads but nowhere much for lunch (the only likely place, waterside, had frogs legs and chips but no takers so we simply sank a glass of liquid refreshment and used the loo); thus it was that we assembled the last of our hardboiled eggs and cold sausages, crisps etc, and 'made do'.
The picture below shows what was once a castle on a rocky outcrop overlooking the Loire, but now is an island castle, usually surrounded on three sides by the slow flowing reservoir waters of the much tampered with upper reaches. It's name escapes me: Mrs Melling probably mentions it in her blog.
After putting away such refreshment that we had, Mrs Melling then amended our route to avoid the busy valley routes leading to St Etienne: we took to the hills gaining long views of snow capped Alps and glimpses across to what I maintain must have been the upper snow-caked levels of the Central Massif. Lovely country, blossom arriving big time.
When we finally left the uplands we found ourselves in a rather busy Givors and almost at a loss as to how to get to anywhere where we might cross the Rhône. Traffic was shocking, signposting even more so; so we fought our way up the west bank of the river for a mile or two when we finally got to a bridge Mrs Melling identified as extant, which proved almost jammed up with Friday evening traffic too, but from which nevertheless we achieved a route to our rather comfortable hotel in a somewhat noisy corner betwixt motorway and railway. In fact, there was almost immediately, upon arriving in the sanctuary of our en suite, an autoroute shunt (clump crash crumple clonk) just beyond our window, to add even more chaos to the traffic trundling in all directions. Be assured, no one was hurt save the vehicles involved (as far as we could tell) but it took quite a while to clear up and reopen the lanes affected. Incidentally that window in our room was almost soundproof when closed so traffic noise was not an issue in the obtaining of our revitalising repose later on.
Hopes of eating at a nearby renowned restaurant were dashed when we strode out to it: fully booked. It looked very inviting. Worst still there was nowhere else save the Campanile hotel restaurant down there and the nose-to-tail traffic precluded any idea of getting out the motor again. The shame of it! We bit our lip and went in. It was the usual bland experience. OK but only OK.
That's it then, in a nutshell. The car is still not starting promptly despite fresh petroleum distillate… wouldn't have happened with the Berlingo… it was a diesel.
Footnote: The Vaucluse weather was wonderful upon arrival and one could sit in the sun without a coat. However, on Monday the Mistral blew in to remind us that winter has only recently relinquished command. Warm out-of-the-wind corners could be found where basking remained possible (like round by the empty fountain by the library) but our terrace at No.1 Rue-FB was a no-no. All potted plants withdrawn until risk of loss and wind-burn is passed.
The minimum temperature in the house during the winter months absence did not drop below 5.9° however, reassuring, and thus mild as Sablet winters go. Two days of blowing and now we are back to calm, mostly. Maximum temperature so far (March) comes in at 23.5°C. Clouds? a distant memory. Not bad huh? Oh dear, now I am beginning to miss the rain…