another trudge to the north (spring '24)

 

I’m sure we’ll be back to making our first stop at Sarlat-la-Canéda soon but for this departure of such sweet sorrow (we weren’t ready to call it a day, Sabletside) we decided to run for Cahors. The vast diversion we have been put to when trying to access Sarlat in the last two or three visits, just when one is beginning to opine that we’ve done quite enough miles for the day (it is a long way anyhow), plus the distinct, implicit message from the rear seat, (come on chaps, try something else) brought Mme Melling to suggest a return to the Cahors overnighter instead, but this time going via the southern Cévennes to Millau. So that is what we did. The planned route home brings up the end of this post, so there is no excuse for getting lost. 

Again, this entry is really my record (I simply quote my daily log below) so if you have stumbled on this post I have to tell you now it is going to be bland. Give it a miss. I won’t hold it against you… the odd snap I insert in might appeal I suppose.

So: Michelin pages 285 through to 260: Sablet to Cahors

“Departure day, at 0700. Fine weather, cooler. Bought croissants at Caderousse and ate them with coffee at St Victor. Very pleasant drive through the Larzac and to sunny Millau, after which it got a bit cloudier on the leg to Cahors which we arrived at, at 1540. Ate the sandwiches Mary bought yesterday in Sablet under a range of wind turbines just in view of Rodez. Very easy journey, flowers all the way… Ate again in greyed over Cahors, same bistro”. 

note: I still don’t care much for either the Ibis hotel or Cahors itself – beyond the lovely bridge and river that is. Add to that M’s aspiration to eat riverside being thwarted by mother’s day bookings (tsch) and a grey end to the day plus yours truly being a bit limpy… even though our eventual restaurant managed once more to feed us adequately (there must be others, where are they, fgs?). Good beds though even though no view from our window at all at all.

Michelin pages 259/8 through to 200: Cahors to La Rochelle

"Grey morning drizzly and the odd shower. Got away at 0712. Breakfast about 0800 cheerful boulangerie in Prayssac which did us sandwiches. Good journey mostly quiet roads, ate lunch at Port Maubert, did a short walk into the reeds (reed warblers and or reed buntings). En route saw various birds of prey and a sodden field with storks grazing. Went to Pointe des Minimes beach etc now pretty warm and very sunny. Hotel at 1645, Kyriad, got the floor 4 front corner room again — 407 (as in autumn 2022). excellent. Ate in the usual place next door."  

note: Prayssac boulangerie again. Lovely outlet! First class croissants as heretofore and their made-to-order baguettes were très bien aussi when we confronted them on the Gironde estuary. After that we had time to spare so walked part of the reedbed trackway, then upon arrival in La Rochelle, took ourselves down to Pointe des Minimes to acquaint Adam with the singular lighthouse there: read all about le phare au bout du monde in my pharesighted blog, it is rather intriguing. Here is a link! I was seriously a walking casualty, after trudging to the point, but recovered in time for supper.

Michelin pages 200 through to 71: La Rochelle to Roscoff

"Mostly a grey day with occasional light rain showers. Left La Rochelle at 0700 and stopped an hour later at Ste Hermine for superb croissants eaten with supplied coffee and purchase of excellent filled baguettes. Stopped briefly at Loire crossing, Ancenis bridge. 

A long rather tiring day with a lot of traffic and a very long and tedious deviation, adding unnecessary mileage to an already long day. Probably not a good route overall. Managed to get inside Corps Nud church, impressive. Addressed sandwiches thereafter. Arrived in persistent rain at Roscoff hotel 1700. 329 miles. Hmm. But room has sea view! Not much to see though due to maritime murk. Chilly, ate at Surcouf, naturally." 

note: at Ancenis I felt that we were leaving Fr proper, as I always do when crossing the Loire (or returning to, depending on direction of travel). We addressed our sandwiches on a farm house drive in the drizzle, after dropping in at Corps Nud, the Russian style basilica and that, inside and out (see left) to Adam, a first visit for him. It involved no nudity. Roscoff busy, parking near the hotel essential (as it was raining pluralistically) but only just getting tucked in, and in there. Hotel good, our third visit. Surcouf not quite as toothsome as it used to be (we feel) although my huîtres were top flight. 

(Michelin Atlas returned to store) And finally:
"Got up early, watched Pont Aven docking distantly, still raining… intent on breakfast but usual boulangerie spot was closed so visited the popular corner bar where we had the biggest grande-crêmes known to man. And good! Ship sailed half an hour late, reasonably full. Comfortable throughout, Mary did not use the four-berth day-cabin she had booked at all. Weather cleared for arrival in Plymouth 1330 and we were on the road home at 13.45. Stopped for fuel and diverted to Luxtons at Okehampton for pasty shop etc. Arrived Cheldon via Winkleigh at 1600. Garden a wilderness of flowers, cistus and laburnum in their prime."

That’s it.

Now which way shall we go back, in September, Mrs Melling? You’ve booked the boat already? Great heavens. Better get to it and sort it then! A four stager you think?

Bonus: thinking of matrimonial malarkey? Why not blow your family life savings by doing it in style at a fabulous folly? We stopped off to ogle at this faux château somewhere near Châteaubriant, before we got rather misdirected by one last and lengthy route barrée. (We shouldn't have been anywhere near Châteaubriant anyway, it was a bit off our planned route back, wasn't it?) The splicing business must have some well heeled takers… it's at a place called Challain-La-Potherie, for the record. You'll find it on line no doubt. It is mid 19th century by the way, hence my 'faux' classification.

long spring in sablet '24

PRIMARILY for my benefit, these notes: a record for the increasingly absent minded originator, you might say, if you were cruel-but-honest with it. Anyway, if you are perusing this post, you have no room for complacency – surely there are tasks crying out for your attention which, understandably or otherwise, you have put on hold, given your propensity for supporting the author – I thank you!

I’ve dealt with the wind and the rain aspects of The Longer Spring in Vaucluse ('24) in other posts, as well as the transfer from Devon to Vaucluse, so now here comes the sun… well mostly.

But I also want to record that Barbara and Pascal, our cherished ‘uphill’ neighbours, have gone and moved to St Just near St Etienne, taking ‘our’ feline associate Minouchette with them. Of course, not our cat but a cat with whom we’ve been passing the time of day and/or night since before we even bought 1rFB. With a kinked tail and particular manners (the feline that is). Fair enough though: Minouchette is now officially cared for, chipped and all that, so B&P done good to take her in. Not that M was ever a waif-&-stray: she was clearly doing B&P a favour by shacking up at theirs, and selflessly saw fit to widen her horizons by moving a bit up north with them, plus the dog Kenzo: change of scene, new challenges etc. I’m sure she’ll be sorted in St Just – just fine…

Also missing: the Danes. Sold up, gone, only returning to holiday, perhaps in September. Wretched! The Welsh Berkhampsteadians are also in the act of betrayal: their house up on the Rue de Barrys is being marketed. No takers at time of writing but it is a bit of a downer. Wish them well of course, but they have been very much part of our Sablet-Scene, so not best pleased at their restlessness.

Of course, we’ve contemplated similar. But this spring was so good we’ve deferred again, to the extent that we’ve contracted Mr Fernandes to fix for good the wonky ridge tiles (he and son Kevin report the task is now completed and monies have been forwarded) while Mr Boukersanna, he of the grey shutter paint job, has quoted to gloss paint inside and out all the abode’s fenêtres, in the ’24 autumn. Plus the entrance doors. Not for free you understand: so we continue to invest.

Flowers: as we were out at Sablet for longer and later this spring so it was that we got to appreciate the flora and fauna to a greater extent in 2024.

The iris show was full on, lengthy, rich in variety, abundant and much enjoyed. Even more spectacular, simply by mass and by being so widespread, vivid and unimpeded, your common field poppy. Brilliant, in tens and twenties or by the tens of thousands. Roadsides, whole fields, gardens, cracks and crevices. We never tired of them and their unaccountably spectacular crimson. Also drifts of very blue flowers, of several species, shapes and habits, colouring the fieldbanks, verges, copses. No bluebells here: instead these beauties, frustratingly not photographable I’m afraid (or at least not with the box brownie I sport) so you’ll have to take my word for it. 

One must not overlook the extensive banks of Spanish Broom either, vivid yellow, richly perfumed, everywhere. Oh, and roses, bags and bags of them, where do I stop? 

One does, therefore, too easily overlook the most persistent colour of all under the hopefully blue sky overall, which is the freshest set of delectable greens of new and renewing foliage: trees, vines, fields, gardens and roadsides. All this adds context to the abundant colour all around in this most favourite season, which it is. 

Big scenes: The clouds, my dear the clouds. I can’t remember such a protracted period of such sculptural towering cumulus varieties, mostly without accompanying precipitation (I do say mostly, please note). So some of the very familiar scenery was particularly well punctuated by these cloud capped towers. I like clouds, me. Have you ever thought how dull life would be without them? Or how very blue? 

Fauna: a lot of hares this time, particularly on the Plan de Dieu, always gives us pleasure. Add in the spectacular rollers (picture above, courtesy of the s&h) we encountered with increasing frequency on several occasions, not to mention hoopoes, bee eaters and the like. Buzzards, hawks, kestrels, vultures, kites et al as per. Herons and similar, the usual suspects. Most if not quite all fair game for our local starling to mimic (perhaps not the raptors) and fool us in the first days into rushing out to spot … er… resident starling taking the piss. Martins and swifts, not taken for granted either, much enjoyed and flying by at mach 2, the latter bringing on the next generation under our very eaves and across the road. And, as ever, the resident plastic-egg-box-scruncher (black redstart) first singer in the morning, long before sun up. Sparrows, natch. We saw no wolves, wild boar, coypu (living at any rate) foxes, pandas or panthers. Butterflies? of course. Cicadas? Not yet awhile. 

Rather too many dogs, if truth be told.

Ventoux: Le Géant is ever with us except when it isn’t because of cloud obscuration. This year we make up for only walking up it in March '22 (with the redoubtable Dr G) by taking the son-&-heir back up there to check out the Family Seat (q.v.). We start up from Malaucène for a change (conveniently linking in with our market shop) and after a summit mooch, drop down to Chalet Reynard then tour round to Sault and back on the Drôme side of the hill, taking lunch as we do at Montbrun-les-Bains, just for the record, this is not a travelogue. Back on Ventoux the family seat is still extant. I thought I'd place Adam on the summit marker for this snap, you've seen enough of that antique bench I'll warrant. He claims that this was only his fifth visit to the summit, which surprises me. 

I have a picture of the s&h standing in the same spot when he was eight; and here it is. We were holidaying in Le Barroux then. We went to the Vallabrègues Basket Makers Festival from there as well, back in '99

Another day (before Ventoux chronologically, as if it mattered) we motor out to Beaucaire, lunch rather well – then briefly pause at Tarascon, en route noting the Rhône-side warnings about water pick ups by canadairs (fire fighting aircraft)… just across the river from Vallabrègues – so keep your pedalos out of the way if you please this summer. More wild fires seem to be expected.

Visitors: Honourable (I hope) mention has been made of Anne’s visit (very cold and very windy) and Wendy’s visit (very wet, often overcast but mostly mild). The son-&-heir, obvs, he travels back with us as you will divine if you read the post covering our return, as and when I have penned it, which isn’t right now, do stop hassling me: so obviously he counts as a visitor (and part owner, he likes to think… yeah, right). Professor Hickman came and went – he gets his own post!

Our usually absent Canadian neighbours Pearl and Robert weren’t in as usual to start with, but Robert zipped in for a week or so with his daughter Zoë; she en route to making her mark photographically in Paris – so we got an apéro invite which was interesting and illuminating.

We apéroed too with our Welsh associates from Berkhampsted plus The Kaisers from Horben at the house the Welsh are now selling. Both Kaisers and the Roberts left for their northern estates before we did. The Irish jetted off to Singapore and Aussie to see family fairly early on, now that Poncho has slipped his collar and freed them up to go places – so we only saw them briefly in Gigondas. 

Sorties: we did the Rasteau circuit, with variants, on every Sunday morning excepting one (there was something kicking off in Rasteau square where we expect to refresh untroubled by hordes, so we ducked out) when we substituted a shorter but glorious Rabais Sud perambulation. We popped up to St Hilaire early in the stay, and later in the time allotted to us returned to the upper Durban domaine for another favourite vineyard walk (the masthead snap) before taking a plat at Beaumes-de-Venise. Rabais Sud hosted another great ramble when Adam was in residence, right to the top of the ridge where a track runs east-west and where we have wandered a few years previously. In the image below, Mme Melling may be discerned going off back down the way we've come, back to the motor that I had to park further up than our normal spot, some damned Fr car having thoughtlessly occupied our spot fgs!

While in residence we dined regularly and happily at both Roaix and Villedieu favourites to name but two. We shopped, as is our wont, at Malaucène and St Cécile markets to great effect, feasting on strawberries and asparagus as if our lives depended on it. Even got some early cherries and apricots! Not a lot of cooking done chez-nous you see, although I did grill some lamb. 

Cometh the end of the month, Mme Melling reconfigured our planned return (as seen on my revised route posting) to Blightey and we sorrowfully took our leave of Sabbers. There will be a brief report on that journey, following this but just now I need to watch a bit of telly……

hickman visits 1ruefb spring '24

 

Between Wendy's departure and Adam's arrival we played host for five brief hours to Professor JAH, or Hickman as we have of late come to refer to him. He drove up from Montpellier where he and his wife have the advantage of an apartment, but he came alone as Nathalie was at work in Paris where they mostly live. I last saw Hickman in 1963, that’s an eye watering sixty one years ago. He and I went to the same third rate grammar you see, but he being 18 months my senior, we hardly knew each other at QEGS (although we both took part in at least one school opera production). When our esteemed English teacher at the school died a few years ago both he and I wrote obituary contributions at the request of a mutual acquaintance (another Prof: see below) which is how we started communicating. So here he was in Sablet after some previous still-born attempts to meet up. 

It went very well, our all-too-brief meeting – and we established an almost immediate rapport. Mme Melling as well. He made a good start by not driving a swanky motor, delivering unto us a bottle of Pic-St-Loup (a favourite of ours) and presenting Mme Melling with a generous bunch of peonies – M’s favourite domestic flower.  Good move!

This is not the place to air the animated range of matters we discussed, the revelations made or the shared enthusisams for France, music, art etc, but it was all uplifting, delightful, humorous and friendly. As if we had been close friends since back in the day. John brought a shocking wet day with him so we had to eat indoors at L' As de Coeur but the place was buzzing and he professed to being a keen fan of the simple plat du jour. Thankfully! After lunch we went up the hill in Roaix (to Rabais-Sud) to watch a storm approaching over Ventoux…  John ended his visit to us after the only authentic but short thunderstorm we experienced this visit… he couldn’t stop, he had to get back to Paris on the morrow! So, short and sweet. We slipped him a bottle of Plan-de Dieu as he left – he indicated it was a favourite rouge of his, so…

Upon return to Bullsmead HQ I found Hickman’s likeness on the School panorama I still retain from 1963. And me too, further along, just behind and to one side of the aforementioned highly regarded English teacher, she who may very well be responsible in part for your author getting the idea that he might be capable of stringing ideas together in the manner demonstrated here. Ms Celia Clout she was. Both Hickman and self loved her (among a whole host of others). Sadly Celia has passed on, as I reported above.  

Note that Dr Roberts, our Martin, my longest time friend/associate and one time neighbour also features up top. School photos, huh? What a source for wasting time and stirring up memories!   

Anyway QEGS can’t have been all bad: Professor Hickman got going there in science and certainly has made a considerable contribution to advancing cancer research in his distinguished career; it is a privilege to know him, pull his leg, swap outrages and enthusiasms. Not that he was saying much about his professional activities: we read him up on Wikipedia, après, as one does when one suspects one might be conversing with someone with top form attributes. Crumbs! Retired, but only in part, he is still moving and shaking –enthusiastic scientists never completely quit. We are planning to meet again, and hopefully Nathalie his wife aussi… plus re-acquaint with our (me and him) mutual associate back in the UK – Professor Brian (or Eric, take your pick) Wheeldon, no less. He set this thing off really. I won’t say watch this space but, well maybe I’ll report further, who knows? 

QEGS? that’s the school I frequently hold responsible for the lamentable levels of the Fr language I have: Queen Elizabeth (the first) Grammar School, a much better place to get educated nowadays no doubt, rather than the patchy education I got there (even though English was A1, as I have intimated). My schooling was good in parts, in other words, and got better towards the end. But Fr? mais non. Neither did it manage to cure me of my underlying laziness, not in all aspects of getting on you understand, but in matters of human endeavour, hmm……  I fall short. Let's leave it at that. 

Time for a biscuit, if one may be had in one's own home……

wendy's wet week wander

WHAT DO YOU DO when you’ve taken delivery of a good friend as a guest in what most people would identify as Provence (Sablet) and where the sun shines more than 200 days a year (so the boast goes) …… and it doesn’t do that. Instead it sets out to thwart one’s anticipated plans by being unseasonably wet, if mild, following on a week where it was windy and cold (and described in another post preceding this one). Well this is what we do, given our visitor is an infrequent one, is not so nimble as she once was but is well prepared with a classy waterproof, zebra walking stick and positive outlook. We dedicate a goodly portion of petroleum distillate, and take ourselves off out into it.

Don’t get the idea that we can and will do this to all comers: we are not a holiday package corporation. We do it this time though as much as anything for ourselves. We need to get out. After the windy cold week that is.

The portents from France meteo are dire so Mme Melling determines we'd had best get the local jolly done, to fulfil the centre d’art at Crestet undertaking, and you can brush up on that in the post entitled centre d’art, if you’ve overlooked it as yet. I’m confident that this potter meets with our guest’s appetite for sights of special interest, plus you’ll be thus readied for the further twaddle to come hereafter.

We’ve already alighted on the tried and practised plan to take a turn up to Nyons and beyond but are dismayed by the grey skies and threat of ongoing precipitation. But off we go, notwithstanding. We reach Nyons but find it full to capacity, and lacking anywhere to anchor the motor within a day’s trudge to get to a café or similar… so continue on the road to Gap before deviating towards Ste Jalle, as we oft have done heretofore, to inspect the underwhelming lavender fields (almost dormant at this season, see above), then enticed away from our intention to go right over the Col d’Ey to Buis-les-Baronnies, instead popping over the Col de Soubeyran and down to Rémuzat for refreshment – at last – and thus through the gorges leading back to Nyons, and home via Vaison. We could have added further deviations I guess but don’t this time: our guest isn’t strictly a fan of vultures……

You know, I really like that circuit? And here’s the thing, don’t broadcast this now, but I like it in grey overcast conditions also! Shock horror! I do today at least, although apart from a few drops we are largely spared the 80% chance of rain forecast by meteo. I am assured that sister W enjoyed it also. True, it is quite a bit of une hike: good in any weather I’d maintain, although we’ve not tried snow, and these days of course one must have the correct tyres and/or chains after November 1st on pain of prosecution if caught out. This round is not on in holiday season either, leastways not the main road from Gap through Nyons section. We like our roads unfrequented or as near as damn it, and that's a fact. 

Next day. Malaucène market has to be visited so we do that. We have to eat. So far we've not scored a lunch for our visitor except snacks at 1rueFB. Not raining as yet but coming. When, during our customary coffee stop, post shop, we discover sister W may not have been trundled over the Suzette col (she is hazy about this, she might have, she might not have), we decide to return to HQ that way, over the hills to Beaumes, and en route go right up the hill (above the usual road and Suzette Central) to La Bori. We don't pass through Suzette at all in fact but look down upon its almost perfect layout of roof tops and central cross-road from the slopes of St Amand. Suzette has featured in the blog before… if you cared to look. 

La Bori then. Mme Melling waxes as lyrical about this house-and-garden as I do. We love it to pieces. So do the owners. We’ve spent time musing on how we could persuade them to give us the place. It is so inconvenient after all. Level walk to the shops? Forget it. Facilities? None beyond running water and elec. But this lovely modest stone house has wondrous views, for sure, but more remarkably it has a singular garden, who knows how extensive and refined — but a road edging terrace as well,  where all the very diverse plants have been gifted piped irrigation and discreet labelling.

And at this time of the year? Oh my. Blossom amidst the natural occuring cistuses and brooms. We are tacitly invited to look in detail or gawp at the whole. Whoever you are, La Bori owners, thank you for sharing your singular contribution to the already superb landscape, with all those who trek up to La Bori or pass by to the wine domaines even higher up the hill. Respect! I personally hope it remains largely undiscovered: we’ve never had to share our visits with anybody else except once with one of the tenders of the terrace, quietly weeding his wonderful road side plot, trimming a bit here, earthing up a tad there. Was it him what done it?

As it is, the slopes hereabouts are one of the few places that Mme Melling has declared: if we had the chance/money/energy and yet needed to make considerable sacrifice, she’d do it, all just to live up there and soak up the views the birds and cypresses, not to mention the shadow of Ventoux, off to the left.

Ah me. Dream on. No shops though. The post van calls… 

On the thursday (may second) it is raining: I mean persistently and soakingly: it is Dreich. Hence the masthead (which is a wall where we are off to -in Grignan- amalgamated with a non-potable water icon from Richerenches, superimposed upon it… in case you were wondering). 

We make a valiant attempt to provide at least one small cultural offering to Wenders, but it comes to nought. She’s been to Grignan before and despite reassurances from the Tourist Office that the doors are not locked, the cemetery chapel light-show we’ve trekked over to see is denied us. I can see the bloody door is locked fgs. We refresh in a coffee and ice cream parlour converted from a resto we once ate twice at when looking for a shack in the area to invest in, then return to Sabbers via Richerenches, just catching the Templars’ Hall (now a gallery) open to view a rather awful show of flower paintings, so bad that one or two of them looked good. We hurried through. Vanson’s carved basques are gone of course. I liked them (tut tut). All in the rain (not outdoors thankfully, the flower show). 

And do you know I liked all this trip out too? The rain keeps the masses at bay! I think Wenders quite likes the jolly as well. She is a stoic you see. Has coat (waterproof, rather classy, actually) –will travel. 

Finally on the last day of W's visit, sunny for a change, we are treated (by our guest) to a lunch under the white mulberries (not yet in leaf much) at Roaix, then take our generous guest on the wild road to Rasteau, so show off a bit more by way of views, traverse a bit of the Plan de Dieu, contemplate the great expanses of the Baronnies as seen from Rabais Sud, etc.  (– but not in this order, I have just inserted the names of the places in the random recall they came back to me). Poppies. Irises. And all the rest. Nightingales even, one or two. 

We also take Wenders to see a just-released Danish-Mexican feminist ‘western’ at the Florian Cinema in Vaison, in a late attempt to provide a bit of culture. It does not receive the hoped for A grade from sister W, just an indifferent C or maybe C+. Rotten Tomatoes give it 88% fgs… and it's the first cinema visit your author has made since before the pandemic. I enjoyed it, so there. It wasn’t a western really Mme Melling maintains. Want to know the name of the film? I can’t remember already. 

Oh… The Dead Don’t Hurt I’m told.         Have I seen that then?

The weather clears as our guest departs for Paris.  It has been wall-to-wall soleil almost ever since [hem-hem: at time of writing –ed]. Typical. But as I have said before in a previous post, years back: Some Like It Wet: I can count myself amongst those, at least for some of the time I’m on earth… We did our best, even though the plan to check out Arles was still-born. Another time maybe. After all, Arles in the rain and cold has been tried – it was a bit grim. 

We didn’t get a good grade then either I seem to recall, from our guest of the moment, back then.