Thursday 16: So here we go with the last leg of our transit to Sablet in this year of remorse (for reasonable fuel prices, low taxes, bargain suppers and worry free exploitation of the earth’s plentiful resources etc etc.) There is a coating of frost on the glistening paintwork of Octavia when we slide our overnight tackle back into its allocated space in the boot.
Sorry: I've been advised that there needs to be an artistic landscape of Le Viaduc de Millau if one passes through Millau even though we didn't cross the structure this time, or go under it either: it is expected I am told. Just how many snaps of a bridge can one chap acquire? There must be a finite number, not known to me, so to stay this side of the final reckoning, when I reach that final figure, I have dropped in this study taken by Mme Melling from the co-pilot's seat in the motor back in October '22. It can't count against my allowance, I didn't take it! Please?
A short last day on the road, this: cloudless skies and sharp definition are promised as we pick our way through the latest roadworks in Millau, then up the hill to our half day jolly, through the revered Cévennes the long time favourite of our clan. Mme Melling has another variation up her sleeve for today, but first the croissants and coffee are calling us into the bar at Le Caylar. We acquire the very last two buns to be had, but they are still warm from the oven and together with the excellent coffee, we are transported briefly to heavenly bliss. OK, a bit strong but really, you cannot imagine such buttery delight, you have to partake. We did and can declare the experience not half bad.
We achieve 19°C today and possibly higher. The landscape is bathed in gold light, I am welling up just thinking about it. And rare indeed are the vehicles encountered. A good thing too as those who have been this way will recall the narrow roads, tight hairpins, stomach clutching drops and unguarded road edges.
Once more we pause at Vissec, the location of one of our last and best family stopovers, in 2010 that was, before the son-and-heir took to his studies in earnest… my photographs taken this time fail to have the sharpness (definition) I expect of my equipment so please make do with these glimpses, my ‘box brownie’ has issues you see and seems loathe to focus properly or advance its telephoto without grindings and clickings. Then I have to guide it all back into the closed position by hand FGS. I am told that one uses one’s phone to capture the scene these days. Yeah, Right. So what do I use if I want to make a telephone call? A toaster perhaps?
Vissec! Ah yes! Nightingale City! Today just a few sand martins are to be glimpsed . . .
Anyway, anyway, the long descent to Vissec is achieved, then left behind, we cannot resist pulling in several times to look back at its diminishing pattern and to review again the deep Vis valley we explored, full of swifts, nightingales and rushing water, back in the day. The flowers: my dear public, you cannot imagine the range and colours, you simply cannot… add in, butterflies, hawks, vultures and sheep with bells, it had the blinkin’ lot! You'll recall we diverted here last year as well, of course you will…
Anyway, anyway, the long descent to Vissec is achieved, then left behind, we cannot resist pulling in several times to look back at its diminishing pattern and to review again the deep Vis valley we explored, full of swifts, nightingales and rushing water, back in the day. The flowers: my dear public, you cannot imagine the range and colours, you simply cannot… add in, butterflies, hawks, vultures and sheep with bells, it had the blinkin’ lot! You'll recall we diverted here last year as well, of course you will…
Having gotten down, we then have to get back up – so we motor up the freshly gritted trail on the northern flanks, take one last look across the abyss, and then that’s it. Still much good country and tricky roads to navigate – long views and deep ravines, occasionally familiar hamlets, but it is indeed all downhill from here, all the way to Ganges.
It is the luck of the draw though, this weather. We’ve seen it in other guises believe you me. The thing is, as long as you get a mix, it's all good, really. Well I think so, but my, we did really enjoy the light this day.
The Cirque de Navacelles is a spectacular abandoned incised meander of the river Vis which in the fashion of limestone rivers disappears and reappears in its wondrous gorge. It is a national treasure, honeypot even, but the gorge is less well known than the Tarn complex (and IMHO much more delectable). We’ve traced the irrigation channels that have been engineered into the valley here and there and swum in the Vis in various deep pools and amidst tumbling cascades. Ah! My youth, wither hast thou fled >sob< ? Hem hem.
The Cirque de Navacelles is a spectacular abandoned incised meander of the river Vis which in the fashion of limestone rivers disappears and reappears in its wondrous gorge. It is a national treasure, honeypot even, but the gorge is less well known than the Tarn complex (and IMHO much more delectable). We’ve traced the irrigation channels that have been engineered into the valley here and there and swum in the Vis in various deep pools and amidst tumbling cascades. Ah! My youth, wither hast thou fled >sob< ? Hem hem.
Eventually we get ourselves onto and negotiate the Nîmes ring road, pass on through Remoulins, cross the Rhône, and once more set wheel in PACA84. We roll in, unlock, unpack, open the shutters and let in the balmy air to counteract the chill interior that 1-rue-FB presents us with. 975 miles door to door.
Better still, we beetle up to the bar for a beer or tea in the sun, warm on our backs. We spot the Danes and drain a bottle of wine with them on their terrace, chew the fat, update on latest falls, etc. etc, then take our acquired victuals back home for our supper. Who forgot to buy the butter?
This was the burning issue. That – and just why the bleedin'-ada do the satellite fellows keep changing the effing channel numbers? It takes the best part on an hour to ensure we can watch the concluding matches of the Six Nations this week end. I think we have managed it. There are some choice epithets employed during this trial and error session I can tell you. Blue air!
News of Sablet associates is that the Danes (q.v.) are in, the Americans are coming next month, as are the Berkhamstedians, The Irish should be arrived today, in Gigondas that is, they've gone down market, and the Germans are packing the milk. Kenzo and Minouchette next door have become friends like only cats and dogs can, and the prices have gone up at L'As de Coeur…
Hot water bottles are required this night. The house has sustained a winter 2.8°C interior minimum since last we were here. We are getting Fafner serviced and may be in the market for some heating oil…… Is this the sort of detail I should off-load onto my readership, I ask myself. Well, there was no obligation attached herewith, so if you’ve read this far I can only sympathise: nobody made you!
Have a nice day. We have: it was our turn!
