features: autumn '24

I DON"T KNOW what to call this post. It is a collection of notes et images of things I want to make a note of, that's all. Move along, move along, there's nothing (well not a lot) to see here, one might opine: you'd not be far wrong. Just diary entries sort of thing but I don't keep a diary, just a log to aid my shrivelling recall.  And not in order either (as you will realise I have called this post, features: autumn '24). Anyway, here goes:

Dorte & Søren have done the deed, sold up after quite a few years, to focus on family and a nice seaside apartment they've bought back home in Denmark. This autumn they were in Sablet for just a week, renting part of Terrace Towers, John and Louise's former lodge before the Irish sold it on and bought that new build over the top of the tourist office in Gigondas. Mme M and self secured a lunch appointment with the Danes (plus Terry) at the Bar Des Sports on the day before they left. No images of the event were made I'm afraid and although D&S declare they will come and vacance in Sablet, the chances of coinciding with them looks a bit bleak. Oh well. All good things, etc. We are fond of them and wish them well. 

Change of subject:

LE CRESTET I think may have been the first village I projected myself possibly, ideally living in (in France, that is). It boasts one of the finest views of Les Baronnies known to man and is elegantly quaint with its narrow alleys, rough-stone houses, terraces, church, and overtopped by a moderately restored castle style chateau. It is atop a limestone ridge backed up with pine and oak forest, garrigue style. Picturesque. Mary brought me to see the place back in 1990 (see left) and it set a bench mark of aspiration. Le Crestet looks good from the road approach too, you come at it from down below. 

Trouble is: > s i g h < honey pot. It's rare that there aren't throngs. No shops either (a seasonal restaurant or two) and a long way down to the main road where the village does have a very satisfactory boulangerie, on the roundabout. Not to mention the Crestet Poterie. Or the seldom open chocalatier/icecream maker. Once Crestet sported a railway station down there as well, on the plain, on the metre gauge line (Orange to Buis) described in loving detail in this blog some years back. We have brought visitors to see Le Crestet (the village) but only if we are sure the hordes are minimal. 

We drive up to and round the higher village (numerous times over the years) to reach that other feature of Le Crestet, Crestet Centre d'Art with which we have had a long preoccupation (and as demonstrated elsewhere in this blog). We've not called into the old village for some years then, (last time with Dr G I think) but did so this autumn. Hardly a soul about: it was just like it was when M and your author first took a stroll around, although at that time the place was still being restored, back then, when we were still in our prime… although it was sunnier this visit.  I've taken to it again now. The views my dear, the views. Both of the village from below and from the village on top. But we suspect Crestet is actually mostly holiday homes and lets these days. It is the fate of such enchanting settlements. Tsch! 

But one can't simply waft around pretty little villages all the time, can one? Hmm: we seem to do quite a lot of that. How about some perambulation in the countryside?

See this lovely tree? This was how it looked in autumn 2020…

Disturbances to our Sunday habit of doing the Rasteau round led us to try tracks and pathways nearby, some known from previous explorations, others by trial and error. October can be tricky though: the Fr obsession with shooting things that move (they call it hunting) starts up at this time of year. I wonder how many innocent French citizens (and others) will be shot dead across France this season? It usually gets into double figures. Nothing much is done. 

We didn't get so far down our last track until high velocity rifle fire was heard. We could see chaps in high vis jackets on another route we had tried a few days previously: I am given to believe that these noble sporting types are not allowed to shoot across public rights of way… yeah…right. We retreated and joined the fundraiser going on in Rasteau instead… or rather, went and watched it, such as it was, over a lunch-time bevvy.

Change of subject:

Every village and hamlet should sport one of these compass roses. Need not be as big as this one (well why not if there is space) but it would certainly reduce arguments amongst those who don't resort to smart phone apps and have come out without their 'Silva'™(other makes of compass may work as well).  

This rose is in Suzette, and that hill in the background is Le Saint Armand, so it is. Of course we have (been up it).