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| quiet morning reaches of the Loire at the Montsoreau breakfast interval |
WELL THEN, in the last post but one (the roundabouts one) I gave out the bare bones of our 2025 spring return to darkest Devon, leaving 1rueFB in the hands of our trusted estate agent. Things happened in our absence from Sablet, too sensitive in nature, if not simply tedious in the extreme to air in this missive, but notwithstanding, Mme Melling and self embark on the autumn transit, wondering if it may very well be the penultimate such transfer.
It went something like this and I intend to be brief (so don’t get your hopes up for any eruditeness from this quarter just now:sighs of gratitude all round, n’est-ce-pas?).
The good ship Pont Aven conveys us to Roscoff with a capacity passenger detail. The crossing, apart from being at said capacity, is uneventful (a little choppy perhaps) if you ignore the time it takes to get off the boat and pass through the Fr customs etc. Our route (if you've assimilated our original plan) is modified to account for potential obstruction at Rennes due to a day of action (or inaction) in the République, in the manner outlined below. We do not encounter any of this anticipated disruption, so wisely have we adapted our published route – and we make good time in rather rainy weather, with the odd confusion caused by poor and even absent road signage, which Mme Melling sorts with her usual efficient use of country roads (over rain sodden metre gauge tourist lines even) and her customary vision…
We reach the Loire and cross it. You’ll have not even glanced at the modified route detail below, have you? Neither would I, if I had drawn the short paille, and embarked on this exercise of tedium, by mistake. If you had checked it out, you'd have noticed the beach side lunch stop featured even further below, opposite Ingrandes, isn't on it, it doesn't feature; because Mary modifies our route from Candé, due to lack of signage therein, thasall. She does that sort of thing when we slip off piste. She always brings us out right in the end, the living sat nav AI persona! – even when bleu expletives doth punctuate the cabin interior……
Be that as it may, after lunch is taken we complete the day by generally following the river upstream at a leisurely pace to Saumur, where we locate the hotel (not the one Mary had envisioned, which was next door, but the one she has actually booked en route, once it is evident that we will make it as far as this town) — opposite the station. We are entrusted with a top floor apartment rather than a hotel room (kitchen, sitting/dining room, bedroom, bathroom, wc etc., all seemingly new and freshly appointed). We eat supper in town, disappointing in the event, given our previous regard for this bistrot, it fails to impress this time. The evening is damp-to-wet, like the rest of the day.
Saumur to Nevers starts damp as well (much railway activity to be admired from our top floor lookout) but once we have breakfasted at our usual Loireside south bank spot at Montsoreau (even now, in season, a gem, see view up river from there that displays at the top of this post) we proceed smoothly as per the itinerary, calling in at, and walking round Montrésor (a honeypot in full swing) before a rain soaked yet brightly lit lunchtime baguette brilliance are consumed Cher-side at Sainte Thorette (Class A with honours fare but eaten under a deluge) allows us the time-latitude later on to get parked close by Bourges cathedral, an edifice we have patronised for some years and which always impresses, if, as I say, you can reach it and find a space for the wheels. It takes time but we eventually do it and are glad we stuck at it. Never pass by this cathedral without pausing, especially if you’ve not taken the trouble before… it rates, it really does. The glass! My dears, you just have to go see that at least!
The hotel at Nevers is new to us: we like it (although the incessant fire alarm being fixed at the time of our booking in was a bit of a earful). The town proper across the Loire beckons and we get ourselves over there on foot, to take refreshment and eventually eat at an alternative style café associated with aspects of cycling, English owned, but we risk Café Vélo and come away pleased with our choice.
We took our ease on the municipal staging avec single grey picnic facility, overlooking the river Dore – then explored some more. They are proud of their home grown but nationally renowned historical recorder-photographer, Gouttefangeas. We compare ‘then and now’ scenes. Olliergues, we like it, albeit a bit hemmed in by glowering heights. It even boasts a vannier, seemingly to this day. Reluctantly we press on…
…… and finally arrive at Le Puy-en-Velay to once more thrash about the crowded and traffic frenzied streets trying to find, not the hotel we last stayed in but another Ibis. By dint of Google Maps Mme Melling steers us there. Hmmm. Not an improvement on the previous lodgings used here, that’s for sure. As for Le Puy… hmmm. Very catholic, very very honeypot and alarmingly trafficated. We eat quite well though and despite the stunning view from our hotel window (see below) we rest, ahead of the final hack back to Vaucluse, 84.
The last stage is a planned bit of a sampler of the Vivarais region (neglected hitherto but an ambition for the future, given its history, isolation and legendary beauty). We encounter some of the bendiest roads known to man. Sadly I realise I have made no visual record of this segment of our progress until out of it, but I can confirm it is very hilly, with gorges, deep valleys, mountain rivers – including the upper reaches of the Loire. Vivarais is heavily wooded, with moorland and treeless pastures (excepting pine plantations) at the higher altitudes. And is also a zone of milk and honey, if infrequent boulangeries and cafés.
We get a taste of it at least, are anointed by more rain in the process, breakfast late at Désaignes (good) before finally dropping down into the Rhône valley around Montélimar, to complete the transit to Sablet, just in time, upon arrival, (1330) to soak up a wet afternoon with a thunder topping.
It went something like this and I intend to be brief (so don’t get your hopes up for any eruditeness from this quarter just now:sighs of gratitude all round, n’est-ce-pas?).
The good ship Pont Aven conveys us to Roscoff with a capacity passenger detail. The crossing, apart from being at said capacity, is uneventful (a little choppy perhaps) if you ignore the time it takes to get off the boat and pass through the Fr customs etc. Our route (if you've assimilated our original plan) is modified to account for potential obstruction at Rennes due to a day of action (or inaction) in the République, in the manner outlined below. We do not encounter any of this anticipated disruption, so wisely have we adapted our published route – and we make good time in rather rainy weather, with the odd confusion caused by poor and even absent road signage, which Mme Melling sorts with her usual efficient use of country roads (over rain sodden metre gauge tourist lines even) and her customary vision…
We reach the Loire and cross it. You’ll have not even glanced at the modified route detail below, have you? Neither would I, if I had drawn the short paille, and embarked on this exercise of tedium, by mistake. If you had checked it out, you'd have noticed the beach side lunch stop featured even further below, opposite Ingrandes, isn't on it, it doesn't feature; because Mary modifies our route from Candé, due to lack of signage therein, thasall. She does that sort of thing when we slip off piste. She always brings us out right in the end, the living sat nav AI persona! – even when bleu expletives doth punctuate the cabin interior……
Be that as it may, after lunch is taken we complete the day by generally following the river upstream at a leisurely pace to Saumur, where we locate the hotel (not the one Mary had envisioned, which was next door, but the one she has actually booked en route, once it is evident that we will make it as far as this town) — opposite the station. We are entrusted with a top floor apartment rather than a hotel room (kitchen, sitting/dining room, bedroom, bathroom, wc etc., all seemingly new and freshly appointed). We eat supper in town, disappointing in the event, given our previous regard for this bistrot, it fails to impress this time. The evening is damp-to-wet, like the rest of the day.
Step three is Nevers to Le Puy-en-Velay. It isn’t raining and holds off today. It isn’t far either really. Petit déj is somewhat late in the securing and rather too many kilometres onward, in a town being thoroughly dug up and gentrified, namely Varennes-sur-Allier. We motor on through the Vichy environs (busy and confusingly less familiar than I would like to admit so overshoot the St Yorre water source) and get up into the outliers of the Massif Central. The baguettes obtained we save until Olliergues where we spend a happy hour in the sun, admiring the (very quiet) town where we once ate lamb (or some such other viande) hot-pot served up in hollowed out loaves of bread — possibly as long ago as 26 years past – we’ve often called that satisfying pleasure back to mind. The resto what done it was I think closed today, beyond drinks.
We took our ease on the municipal staging avec single grey picnic facility, overlooking the river Dore – then explored some more. They are proud of their home grown but nationally renowned historical recorder-photographer, Gouttefangeas. We compare ‘then and now’ scenes. Olliergues, we like it, albeit a bit hemmed in by glowering heights. It even boasts a vannier, seemingly to this day. Reluctantly we press on…
We are in. All well, at least at first…… the electricity is on and the water is off (I turn it on, naturally). It is a house under offer. Oh dear, what have we instigated, 'tis so nice to watch the rain drumming on the terrace counter…whereupon pelargoniums from spring return to leaf and life after the scorching summer…
Thank you for your engagement. Now try and recoup the time you just wasted on this ramble… you'll probably resolve to steer clear of such twaddle in the future, I wouldn't blame you…[if you can't follow it at all, don't fret: neither can I…ed]
