13 July
Being Sunday we had to get moving to the
supermarket before noon to get supplies for dinner. In many
ways it's nice to be in a country where almost everything is closed
on Sunday - it actually feels right to have to have leisure time with
no pressure to shop.
For the afternoon we headed for the nearest beach
at La Grand Motte - a 1960's development on what had been an
undeveloped sandspit. There were traffic jams and we took a
long time to find a park. Once we reached the beach it felt
like some of the Manawatu beaches - a long flat beach backed by low
sand dunes. The sand was very fine and the water deepened very
slowly. Fortunately the area we were in was not developed and
there wasn't a commercial deckchair in sight. It wasn't crowded and
there were few people in the water. When we went in for a dip
we found the water too cold to stay in more than a few minutes with
pleasure so we spent the afternoon developing tans and watching the
activities. There were a lot of family groups and the only
change from a NZ beach was a bevy of vendors wheeling carts along the
beach. It was obvious they were not allowed to approach people
or stop in any position unless they were hailed, so they spent the
entire time trolling back and forwards along the tideline.
14 July
We forgot this was Bastille day!! The date
is 14/7/14 !! However we did find a supermarket that was open.
Anyway today we had a leisurely start and headed
out towards Orange via St Remy de Provence. St Remy proved to
be difficult to navigate as half the roads were closed, we assume
because of a patriotic parade. We found the tourist office and
got a good lead on where to go.
We started at the Monastere St Paul de Mausole
which is a 'rest home' / mental hospital( in the bad old days) that
hosted Van Gogh for 1 year 1 month and 1 day, during which he painted
around 150 paintings including some of his well known images, e.g.
Starry Night. His room we visited - set up as a replica
of his room which seems spacious for a 19th century institution.
There were a number of copies of his paintings around the
monastery that were painted during his stay there, some of them with
very recognizable elements still visible from the area. I have
to feel sorry for the Paul that the monastery is named after -
apparently he was offered a position as bishop, but refused saying
"I'll
GB take: St Remy, Provence is where went went
today.We visited the 'place' where van Gogh committed himself - hate
the word asylum. So many thoughts in my mind as we looked at
his creations, his paintings, his room and the gardens.It still feels
a place of peace and one where healing could be possible - I gather
from what i read that the doctors were kind and understanding and the
care gentle.
We also read about his medical indications,
familial history and the final diagnosis of manic depression,
epilepsy and poisoning from the various toxins he had tried to use to
end his life. - as i read the description of his behaviours
over time as well as during his time at St Paul I said to Stephen I
thought he was dealing with MD - my paternal grand mother was
diagnosed as manic depressive which we now call bi polar in our PC
language. In the 1960s my mother was involved with the care of
psychiatric patients when they were discharged and came home
after 'treatment' as a public health nurse and had explained to me
Granny's condition so I could understand that when we went on
our many visits to see her that she wasn't 'odd' just different and
there were reasons for that. So - In the chapel de St Paul I gave
some grateful thanks for everything.
I am stunned by the courage of this (VG) man who
wrote so honestly and making himself hugely vulnerable as he
described to the people he loved best what he was going through -
this made me really think about the concept of ' self pride' and how
valuable it really is!?
Then we went to Glanum - what a surprise and a
delight - Gallic/ Hellenic/ Roman settlements - not in the blog yet -
my next job!
Glanum:
When we arrived to look at Van Gogh's Clinque we
became aware there were archeological sites.
We walked toward the site over open ground
and encountered a very discontented donkey ( we had already heard his
braying) - who was tethered with only 2 meters of rope to his site. I
was quietly chuffed when he evaded the strokes from a passing tourist
who told him he was lovely - I could hear him say - "Yeah right!
If I am that gorgeous how come I am tied up like his in the 34
degrees sun with no water and no freedom" I hate this stuff!
Glanum - This was a surprise that the Lonely
Planet didn't tell us about. Next door to the Monastere St Paul
is a archaeological site of a village abandoned before 300AD.
There were remains from the 7th century BC of a Gaullish village
built around a spring in a natural defensive position in a small
rocky valley. This expanded into a Greek style town and then
was overlaid by a Roman settlement. Temples and forums were
built, then demolished and built over, but the way the site has been
prepared now makes the layering clear. The exposed area is
around 200m long by 50m wide and gives a clear indication of the
buildings and how they worked together. Interestingly there
were no side streets in the exposed area. At the entrance to
the site there are 2 stunningly presented Roman monuments, an arch
and a mausoleum. Given the size of the public buildings the
town was obviously quite large.
15 July
Today we decided to visit Orange to see the Roman
theatre. While we had seen Greek and Roman theatre ruins in the
past, we have never seen a complete working one like this. In its
heighday it could seat 10,000 and the actors could be heard
everywhere. Now the full height of the building behind the stage
remains standing and is a hugely impressive facade from the street
towering over the nearby houses. Once inside the shear scale of the
building is overwhelming. However this doesn't make the stairs any
easier as the Romans obviously didn't mind a steep climb.
Leaving Orange we dropped into Chateauneuf du
Pape. This is a well regarded wine area named after the chateau on
top of the hill which was built as a summer house of the Popes of
Avignon. We visited one “cave”, but couldn't raise anyone, so
called next door to the Brotte estate to see what the wine was like.
G liked the white, but I didn't think the red lived up to the $80+ a
bottle they were asking. The red was a Granache/Syrah/??? blend that
(IMHO) lacked fruit and tannin.
Then on to Gordes, recommended by one book as a
Provence town on the checklist of most tourists. It is a small town
sprawling down a steep hill from a small chateau. We found a park at
the top and ventured into the top tier of alleyways. To go down
further would have required the services of a goat to get back up. I
am thankful that we don't have to live in this sort of environment
where everything must be a struugle against gravity.
This evening we finally managed to find the local
Gallician restaurant open and had a pleasant dinner of the Camargue
specialities.
16 July
We left our winery perch to head north towards the
gentler country of the Loire. Again we followed the book “Back
Roads of France” which lead us first to a “Bambooserie”, an
extensive garden mainly planted in 60+ species of bamboo, as well as
water gardens, bonzai and a Laotian village.
We stopped in St Jean du Gard to visit a museum of
silk making, but it was closed so we had lunch and G entertained
herself by photographing the condom vending machine on the pavement
outside the local pharmacy.(every pharmacy we have seen in France has had a condom dispenser on the wall outsde for out of hours emergencies! These pharmacies amaze us. They are prolific, huge affairs - some only metres from each other - all have the same logo - a green flashing cross)
After a couple of false trails we found our
accommodation in a camp ground on the banks of the Tarn river. This camp is near a little village just outside the town of Florac.
The welcome we received was the model of how to make guests feel at home – the woman who received us spent 15 minutes enthusiastically telling us what we needed to see and showing us photos of the area while ignoring the phone and any other distractions. She spoke with an American accent when speaking English. her mother was American, her father French. She grew up in America and was happy to tell us all about how she and her husband ( no. 2) had acquired the camp. She had 2 girls from her first marriage and he had 5! Her description of taking 7 young children skiing was very funny. Picture her with 2 - 3 kids behind her on her skis. She gave us some very amusing anecdotes.She was fluent in French, English and German and treated everyone as personal friends – exceptional. I am inspired by the attention detail in our accommodation - an immaculate mobile home. She hadn't received Stephen's request for linen so she just went out the back and came back with disposable sheets!! One fitted sheet, One huge flat sheet and 2 pillow cases! There were alsorts of nice touches in the mobile home. A starter pack including extre loo paper, pot scourer, coffees, teas, honey dish wash and hand wash, bag for rubbish etc. This in a camping ground impressed me.
She told us about the beavers who had their lodge on the banks of river, just down stream from the camp.there are a family in residence. Mum, dad and a young one born last year. We walked down the well worn track - more of a simple road to locate the viewing spot. They can be seen during the day but the best time is around 8.30 as dust arrives. The European beaver does not build lodges. They have a nest in amongst the reeds and driftwood that ends up at a convenient spot on the river with a nice big pool at its front door. We were told that the female has been seen looking very pregnant and evidently ready to pup and lactate. She has not been seen for a few days so the birth may have happened. Dad has been sighted though. As he swims up stream he makes a considerable wake. He is quite sizable evidently. We left the viewing platform of nice flat rock and went for a swim. The water was a little brackish - no where near as brown as rivers we would discover as we traveled.It was still hot at about 5pm so in we went - Stephen enjoyed swimming out into the middle of the river - I stayed closer to shore. The water was a nice temperature and it was great to cool down, despite the faint smell of 'river' in the water.We ate at the camp restaurant this is run independently of the camp and the food was truly delicious.
After eating we wandered down the road by the river to try a spot of beaver watching. The road we walked down is part of the route Robert Lewis Stevenson took on his 12-day, 120-mile sole hiking journey through the sparsely populated and impoverished areas of the Cevennes1878. Modestine, a stubborn, manipulative donkey was his sole companion and he could never quite get the better of her. is memorable.
Once at the rocks we settled down for the wait. I keep wishing I had remembered to pack our small but very good binoculars. As time passed more and more people quietly arrived, the light slowly dimmed. stephen settled back on the sun warmed rocks and drifted off to sleep - quietly snoring in time with the sound of the river flowing. Gb stayed on beaver watch but no beavers appeared - I think dad must have been on night shift while mum rested from for feeding and pup grooming activities. Finally Stepehn woke - inquired as to beavers activities and so, after a while longer we trudged back down the PLS route to a comfy sleep in our little 2 bed roomed mobile home.
The welcome we received was the model of how to make guests feel at home – the woman who received us spent 15 minutes enthusiastically telling us what we needed to see and showing us photos of the area while ignoring the phone and any other distractions. She spoke with an American accent when speaking English. her mother was American, her father French. She grew up in America and was happy to tell us all about how she and her husband ( no. 2) had acquired the camp. She had 2 girls from her first marriage and he had 5! Her description of taking 7 young children skiing was very funny. Picture her with 2 - 3 kids behind her on her skis. She gave us some very amusing anecdotes.She was fluent in French, English and German and treated everyone as personal friends – exceptional. I am inspired by the attention detail in our accommodation - an immaculate mobile home. She hadn't received Stephen's request for linen so she just went out the back and came back with disposable sheets!! One fitted sheet, One huge flat sheet and 2 pillow cases! There were alsorts of nice touches in the mobile home. A starter pack including extre loo paper, pot scourer, coffees, teas, honey dish wash and hand wash, bag for rubbish etc. This in a camping ground impressed me.
She told us about the beavers who had their lodge on the banks of river, just down stream from the camp.there are a family in residence. Mum, dad and a young one born last year. We walked down the well worn track - more of a simple road to locate the viewing spot. They can be seen during the day but the best time is around 8.30 as dust arrives. The European beaver does not build lodges. They have a nest in amongst the reeds and driftwood that ends up at a convenient spot on the river with a nice big pool at its front door. We were told that the female has been seen looking very pregnant and evidently ready to pup and lactate. She has not been seen for a few days so the birth may have happened. Dad has been sighted though. As he swims up stream he makes a considerable wake. He is quite sizable evidently. We left the viewing platform of nice flat rock and went for a swim. The water was a little brackish - no where near as brown as rivers we would discover as we traveled.It was still hot at about 5pm so in we went - Stephen enjoyed swimming out into the middle of the river - I stayed closer to shore. The water was a nice temperature and it was great to cool down, despite the faint smell of 'river' in the water.We ate at the camp restaurant this is run independently of the camp and the food was truly delicious.
After eating we wandered down the road by the river to try a spot of beaver watching. The road we walked down is part of the route Robert Lewis Stevenson took on his 12-day, 120-mile sole hiking journey through the sparsely populated and impoverished areas of the Cevennes1878. Modestine, a stubborn, manipulative donkey was his sole companion and he could never quite get the better of her. is memorable.
Once at the rocks we settled down for the wait. I keep wishing I had remembered to pack our small but very good binoculars. As time passed more and more people quietly arrived, the light slowly dimmed. stephen settled back on the sun warmed rocks and drifted off to sleep - quietly snoring in time with the sound of the river flowing. Gb stayed on beaver watch but no beavers appeared - I think dad must have been on night shift while mum rested from for feeding and pup grooming activities. Finally Stepehn woke - inquired as to beavers activities and so, after a while longer we trudged back down the PLS route to a comfy sleep in our little 2 bed roomed mobile home.
17 Jul.
Again we followed our “Back Roads of France”
and the advice of our favourite camp ground operator and drove
through the Gorges do Tarn, stopping to explore medieval villages
and gawp at limestone rock formations. The country around here is
spectacular with the gorge cutting through limestone cliffs at
elevation 500m and the plateau above at 1000m, seemingly 2 different
worlds with the top verdant farmland and forest and the gorge rugged
and spartan.
In Florac we stumbled into the local market day with the streets packed with stalls and people. Again the old narrow streets were atmospheric.
We followed the winding roads and navigated the steep hair pin bends, drinking in the scenery when, about 3pm we caught sight, in the distance of the Millau bridge. Stunning at this distance it was nothing to compare the feeling as we drove under this incredible construction. It crosses
the River Tarn in the Massif Central mountains. It was designed by the
British architect Lord Foster and at 300m (984 feet) it is the highest
road bridge in the world, weighing 36,000 tonnes. The central pillar is
higher than the famous French icon, the Eiffel Tower. The Bridge opened
in December 2004 and is possibly one of the most breath taking bridges
ever built.The bridge was entirely privately financed and cost 394 million euros
(272 million pounds, 524 million dollars). The aim is to cut the traveling time to southern France, removing the bottle neck at Millau,
through the completion of the motorway between Paris and the
Mediterranean.The aim
of Lord Foster was to design a bridge with the ‘delicacy of a butter
fly’ - he certainly achieved that.Approaching and driving under the bridge was a ethereal,surreal expereince - almost as if he were in some kind of fantasy
On a practical note Lord Foster designed a bridge that enhances the natural beauty of the valley, with the environment dominating the scene rather than the bridge. The bridge appears to float on the clouds despite the fact that it has seven pillars and a roadway of 1½ miles in length. On first sight, the impression is of boats sailing on a sea of mist. The roadway threads through the seven pillars like thread through the eye of a needle.
Having gone through the visitors centre that documents the construction, design and statistics about the bridge we drove over the huge viaduct. After coming back to earth with a jolt we we discovered that our accommodation for the night was another 2 ½ hours away! We found that driving through the middle of France means climbing and descending a lot of ranges and the towns and village change in character and appeal. For a while we followed the Lot River in lush agricultural land that looked prosperous. The villages here have more individual houses with land around them and are better maintained than many we've seen.
We finally made accommodation fall. This hotel, Mont du Source is a very large1800s house and is furnished accordingly! Lovely room, fascinating bath and shower! The bath was pretty shade of blue - as was the decor and furnishing in our very spacious bedroom.
We ate dinner outside at the hotel - service was really slow. Actually we have been impressed by how much faster than we had expected service has been everywhere we have been.This time it was slow enough for me to inspect the very nice but cold swimming pool in the hotel gardens. After a so so meal for me ( only one of 2 meals I haven't enjoyed - chewy, dry jambon. The truffade that accompanied it was wonderful though and I have been precticing repeating this quite often since then) , a very nice meal for Stephen I was looking forward to that afore mentioned bath.
The bath sat in the middle of a large bathroom. I was delighted to turn it on, anticipating a lovely long soak. It was not to be. I couldn't get any hot water to run, only cold. So - into the shower I went. Another amazing experience. Hot water there was, descending from a shower rose directly above my head. I leapt out with alacrity , turned off the water flow and began a closer inspection. My next attempt bought froth 4 - 5 strong flows of water at right angles to my now wet torso. a massage no less! Further fiddling with taps revealed I could turn off some of these spouts of water, focusing the flow to where I wanted it. Very interesting but by now all I wanted was a wash and bed. I finally managed some sort of sponge down and took my wet head to bed.
Breakfast French style was lovely with quite the nicest raspberry conserve I have eaten. The owner of the hotel, an older woman took the time to give us the outline of the history of the house, the family who lived there and her own time running what began as a B and B then with the addition o a chef and catering kitchen became a hotel. She has run it now for 20 years.
On a practical note Lord Foster designed a bridge that enhances the natural beauty of the valley, with the environment dominating the scene rather than the bridge. The bridge appears to float on the clouds despite the fact that it has seven pillars and a roadway of 1½ miles in length. On first sight, the impression is of boats sailing on a sea of mist. The roadway threads through the seven pillars like thread through the eye of a needle.
Having gone through the visitors centre that documents the construction, design and statistics about the bridge we drove over the huge viaduct. After coming back to earth with a jolt we we discovered that our accommodation for the night was another 2 ½ hours away! We found that driving through the middle of France means climbing and descending a lot of ranges and the towns and village change in character and appeal. For a while we followed the Lot River in lush agricultural land that looked prosperous. The villages here have more individual houses with land around them and are better maintained than many we've seen.
We finally made accommodation fall. This hotel, Mont du Source is a very large1800s house and is furnished accordingly! Lovely room, fascinating bath and shower! The bath was pretty shade of blue - as was the decor and furnishing in our very spacious bedroom.
We ate dinner outside at the hotel - service was really slow. Actually we have been impressed by how much faster than we had expected service has been everywhere we have been.This time it was slow enough for me to inspect the very nice but cold swimming pool in the hotel gardens. After a so so meal for me ( only one of 2 meals I haven't enjoyed - chewy, dry jambon. The truffade that accompanied it was wonderful though and I have been precticing repeating this quite often since then) , a very nice meal for Stephen I was looking forward to that afore mentioned bath.
The bath sat in the middle of a large bathroom. I was delighted to turn it on, anticipating a lovely long soak. It was not to be. I couldn't get any hot water to run, only cold. So - into the shower I went. Another amazing experience. Hot water there was, descending from a shower rose directly above my head. I leapt out with alacrity , turned off the water flow and began a closer inspection. My next attempt bought froth 4 - 5 strong flows of water at right angles to my now wet torso. a massage no less! Further fiddling with taps revealed I could turn off some of these spouts of water, focusing the flow to where I wanted it. Very interesting but by now all I wanted was a wash and bed. I finally managed some sort of sponge down and took my wet head to bed.
Breakfast French style was lovely with quite the nicest raspberry conserve I have eaten. The owner of the hotel, an older woman took the time to give us the outline of the history of the house, the family who lived there and her own time running what began as a B and B then with the addition o a chef and catering kitchen became a hotel. She has run it now for 20 years.
18 July
Today we followed a route touching on the volcanoes of the Avergne from Salers to Clermont-Ferrand. The village we had spent the night, Saint-Martin-Valmeroux, proved to be a delightful little market town and for a change the houses were clean and bright. There was a covered market that looked ancient, a public water supply fountain and narrow streets winding off the central square.
Salers was an important centre in the 14th century and attracted a fair degree of wealth. Although small, it was packed with houses that had additional features and as the stone used in construction was volcanic there was little sign of weathering.
From Salers the road ran along the side of a steep volcanic ridge giving a spectacular birds eye view of the farms in the valley. After reaching Puy Mary, a pyramid shaped volcano we dropped own into wide valleys with intensive farming - a very pleasant landscape.
At Cheylade we found a huge garage sale spread over the square in front of the church with around 20 stalls of wonderful bric-a-brac, but no buyers in sight.
We stopped at Lac Parvin, a small crater lake, for a crepr and a drink while watching a family in rowboat - the father standing and casting with a fly rod while hi wife and daughter hung on in the rocking boat.
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