Lettres de France, Juillet
It has been some time since I put pen to paper, we were just
about to leave Lake Garda to return to France.
It wasn’t procrastination; it’s just that an idle life can be incredibly
busy!?! I sit and write under a moonlit sky at the
edge of the Cevennes in the campsite ‘Castel Rose’, Anduze. To my left is the river where kingfishers and
frogs are calling, a nearby camp has croony French music playing and straight
ahead rises a limestone escarpment, which has turned from pale pink to white as
the sun sets and the moon rises.
Well the last three weeks have gone by in a blur. We spent a
fantastic day in Lorgues (Provence) on the intermediate sprint line of the Tour
de France. We were not more than 10
metres from the line and right behind the barriers where we draped our large
Manx flag to encourage “Ca-ven-deesh” on his way. An hour passed quite happily playing cards,
lunching and banging the advertising boards when any vehicle went passed on the
course. And then came ‘La Caravane’
comprising of all the publicity cars and vehicles; vehicle after vehicle –
Evian girls upside-down spraying the crowds with water, giant blow-up figures on
bicyles, Haribo cars..... it took a good ¾ hour for them all to go passed and
by the end of it the children had a nice supply of freebies! An hour later the first 6 riders had come
through and then we saw at the end of the road the start of the wave that was
the pelaton. And then they arrived, Cav
was at the front, barging his way through but unfortunately at the last minute
the rider next to him swerved in front and he lost his position. It didn’t stop us from shouting “Ca-ven-dish,
Ca-ven-dish” at the top of our voices, felt so proud! A very excited Radio Bleu presenter later
informed that Ca-ven-deesh had won the stage and the car exploded with cheers.
On the crest of this excitement we rode into Cavaillon,
faces still painted with the 3-legs of Mann, to meet up with Mum and Dad. We got out of the car and walked the last 50
metres to the emplacement. They were sat
outside their van, glass in hand, and it was just so lovely to see them. After much hugging and animated talking we
set up camp alongside and talked late into the night (Kev was rather jaded the
following morning, nothing to do with only half a bottle of whisky remaining!)
The temperature was in the mid 30s everyday whilst we were
together, which meant that we were quite happy to spend time on camp playing
games in the shade or going to the municipal pool next door (a little
antiquated but with a great diving board).
We did venture out to nearby Cavaillon for drinks; we cycled into town on
our bikes, M&D went in their car (I’m trying to encourage them to get
electric bikes – great for any kind of hill).
On meeting them at the bar, the children greeted them so
enthusiastically it was as if they hadn’t seen them for weeks, never mind an
hour.
We managed to head off for a whole day on 5th,
visiting a dry stone ‘Bories’ village near Gordes late morning and Roussillon
and the ochre mines in the afternoon.
The temperature soared and as we sat in the old olive grove having lunch,
the heat radiated off the stone walls making it feel even hotter. I took the children into the village, Kev
very valiantly agreed to stay behind – he was reading Wolf Hall at the
time. The bories are stone huts and
houses often just a single dwelling for storage or animals, but this particular
one had several houses and outbuildings and had been used up until the middle
of 19th century. We had a
great time imagining what it used to be like, who lived there, what they did –
silk worm breeding amongst other things!
It was so cool inside the thick stone walls and then returning outside
again the heat hit you once more.
The road to Roussillon wound through field upon field of
lavender, the air was hot and dry and hung heavy with it. Wish I could bottle it up and bring it home
for those cold, damp winter months! We
met up with M&D at the bottom end of town.
The children by this point were struggling with the heat – Tom had Dad’s
panama on, Ben my straw hat. Having come
across and watched another wedding in full swing – this time a very white
frothy-style dress and the groom sweating profusely in a shiny grey suit with
shirt and cravat, we took in the panorama then headed down a narrow alleyway
for long awaited ice creams.
Having had the most fabulous ‘show tea towel’ purchased for
me by Daddy – girls, you’ll love it! we headed off to take in the ochre mines
in all their glorious colour. Tones
ranged from white to deep yellow, from red to almost purple. We unfortunately lost Dad along the way but
the rest of us survived and Ben and Tom, by this stage topless due to the heat,
looked like a couple of ‘lost boys’ so covered in ochre dust!
Kev and I managed a days walking, up a track on the Mount
Negre range of hills that we’d seen on the OS map. The walk up was tough, through oak shrub
(here we go again!) and rocky outcrops, but the view at the top was stunning,
across the plains on either side of the hills.
We did get rather lost on the way back down and not having a map or GPS
really didn’t help, but I needn’t have worried, Kev was like a homing pigeon,
straight back to the car! The children
had a fabulous day hanging out with Granny and Grandpa. Ben and Grandpa spent much time together
practicing the art of diving – he’s doing some really good dives now and so
confident! so much so that at the 2nd
site’s pool he headed off on his own, not just off the 3 metre diving board but
off the 5 metre diving platform many times!
Kev and I both plucked up the courage to do this, all I can say is that
it took the wind out of our sails and neither had a repeat performance!
The second week we moved slightly north to Carpentras, the
campsite LouComptadu and the smallest pitches we’d seen to date. After some effort on behalf of the van’s
motor movers, we struck camp and were ready for another weeks partying! Visited a beautiful hilltop medieval village
at Vaison-La-Romaine where we were treated out to lunch by M&D. The restaurant was seated at the foot of the
old town walls, they had games and colouring for the children and the rose was
chilled and crisp –ah, perfect! Tom had a sandwich as big as his head and Mum
and I enjoyed a particularly delicious goat’s cheese salad with a nut oil
dressing.
Feeling in particularly good spirits we then headed down the
road to the site of the Roman ruins (Gallo-Romain) but Roman still the
same! They had a museum full of Roman
artefacts which I could have perused for hours, but with tiddlers and a husband
at foot, we left after half an hour and then wandered around the outlines of
the villa, and then through a tunnel under the hill (you could still see the
inlets where the oil lamps would have been placed) and came out into a large Roman amphitheatre. They were holding a
concert there that night and were sound-checking their systems. To sit some 20 metres in the air and look
down on a stage, with music sounding out all around, and then in the distance
the Provençal countryside – it was unforgettable.
The day before La Tour arrived back in Provence to climb the
infamous Mont Ventoux, Kev decided that he would very much like to try its
ascent for himself. We knew it would be
busy but really had no idea quite how busy!
Some said there were expected to be ½ million people up the mountain,
lining the route in preparation for la Tour’s ascent the following
afternoon. However many people there
were, it was bedlam, with cyclists of all kinds, motor-homes, cars, motorbikes
and gendarmes all trying to get up a steep mountain track. Kev did brilliantly and got to the top in
just under 3 hours. We were very proud! and it made it even better when we watched
the Tour guys ascend it the following day and realise what they have to go
through.
We had a lovely last day with M&D celebrating Dad’s
birthday, although the day hadn’t started particularly well as Dad’s car had
broken the previous day (the alternator was knack*d) and there were lots of
discussions with the caravan club and insurance company. We’d gone to the local Opal garage at 8am
that morning where they’d given the Gallic shrug and explained that their
mechanics were currently on their grand vacance and wouldn’t be returning for a
week!! Anyway, long story short, the car
was taken off at 11ish and returned the following day all better.
The birthday started afresh: we handed over an assortment of
presents; for lunch Ben made Grandpa’s sandwiches – Camembert and crisps and
the afternoon was spent lounging in the pool.
Sundowners were had on a beautiful rooftop terrace bar in the hilltop
village of Venasque (go, it has the most amazing views) then the day was
rounded off with a BBQ and crisp white wine and chats over birthday brandy late
into the night.
It had all gone by so quickly, but what a lot of lovely
memories: Amy and Granny singing Amy’s times tables, Tom whooping everyone at
cards whatever game, playing ‘monsters’ in the pool, lots of swing ball (Tom’s
birthday present), eating rice pudding and clubbing together in the supermarket
to buy some for Grandpa’s birthday, swimming under G & G’s legs at the
pool, Tom checking his ‘banker’ – regularly!, going to the fair –Ben’s bravery/
Tom & Amy flying through the trees on the bungee trampolines, Amy
water-colour painting with Granny, Tom chirping up in the back of the car when
moving from Cavaillon to Carpentras “we’re lost, we’re lost”.
.... and now we’re here.
We’ve survived a huge thunderstorm (awning completely flooded out –
shoes floating, mud everywhere), and yesterday Amy spent all day lying on the
bed with a raging temperature but today we’ve swum, been adventuring and Ben
has bought his first fishing rod (Tom has a net – I wonder who’ll be the most
successful?!?) Tomorrow the plan is to go
up through the Tarn Gorges to Mont Aigoul.
The adventure rolls on....
A bientot. xxxx
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