On April Eleven Mme Melling and self decided to visit somewhere beginning with N and as we had not ventured there recently we made the destination Nyons. Nîmes had been a front runner (we’ve not been there for a considerably longer period of time) but the thought of an hour on the A9 did not appeal: Nyons via the south bank of the Eygues* (the river upon which Nyons is sited) and passing through Mirabel-les-Baronnies was a far more pleasant drive, and only 16 miles, door to lavender distillery car-park.
We limp round the decrepit streets of the town (I maintain that streets like this, if extant in the UK for example, would be attracting campaigns for clearance and rehousing; protests regarding the shocking living conditions that such properties suggest) even unto the bridge where plans are afoot to make the river more accessible, perhaps more attractively presented to visitors and residents alike. It could be a winner, we shall see.
We clamber up to the Madonna and shuffle amongst the hilly lanes that grace the steeper bits of Nyons, well above the Aygues*. (*spellings of this river’s name used here are just two of at least three we have seen employed on the local signage: there may be more).
I suggest a return to Sablet via the Ste. Jalle road. It takes us through some lovely countryside and over an impressive col. I’ve probably banged on about it before. This time however, just after turning off the main road to Gap, on the road to Ste. Jalle itself, Madame Melling is calling out sightings of the feature raptors of this locale, namely vultures! There, above the valley side trees and shrubs. She is gamely trying to snap them as we motor along, with a phone fgs, reporting extravagant numbers to boot. I conclude that Mary might be exaggerating — there is a lot of that sort of thing about, where fish, fowl and the like are concerned, so I turn left off the route, and up a track going to a hamlet called Arpavon and pull over.
There they are. In flocks! Never seen so many. I concede the numbers suggested hitherto. I am reckoning on well above fifty individuals in sight at a time! Why, I manage to snap thirty in a single frame – with ease, point and shoot. Griffin, Egyptian and Lamagyre are identifiable even without one’s Collins to confirm what we are seeing, they are a glorious sight to behold.
Highlight of the day.
Driving up and through aforementioned Arpavon, hoping for further views but these do not materialise beyond the odd stray, so we chance a slightly better maintained road, completely omitted from Michelin incidentally, that drops down a steep valley and kindly returns us back to the Ste. Jalle road almost where we left it. Somewhere along its passage my camera case falls off the roof of the motor where I have parked it in my excitement, and which I notice in its act of abandoning ship, in the rear view mirror – so am able to retrieve the kit without loss or damage or the later inconvenience of being so careless with my belongings. We have previous form in these car roof deposits, have we not, Mme M?
Our circuit goes on as planned, over the Col-d'Ey and down the steep side to Buis aux Baronnies then Mollans and on to the former petit train route to Crestet, then Vaison – and finally on to Sabbers. Fifty-nine of our good English miles or eighty-four of your official continental kilometres, with a decent lunch thrown in. And a spectacle there for the asking. I bet you haven’t seen that many vultures in a single showing, so there…
We picnicked roadside hereabouts, some years back, unless I am getting confused… I've walked over those two hills on the left in the past, on my own that was. This view looks back to the hills (centre) where the vultures circle and wheel…
