Holiday's end

Yesterday was a stinker, up to 32 degrees in the shade, one of those dead, heavy heats which really isn't conducive to any form of activity whatsoever. Well, that may be a slight exaggeration, as I did take the pooch for a little wander amongst the vineyards ...and was tempted by the nearly ripe figs which were hanging heavy on the treesbut covered all of 1km before we turned back to seek sanctuary in the blissful coolness of the house again, me dripping with sweat in a most un-ladylike way and the pooch with his tongue hanging out as if his life depended on it. But fortunately Andy and I both had work to do so time was not wasted. I also had 'Caves' to visit and wine to buy in the afternoon. My main purchases were from the Mont Tauch vineyards up the road at Tuchan where I bought a mixture of everyday drinking rosés, whites & reds plus 2 bottles each of Corbières and Fitou red for winter consumption with rich meat dishes. I also bought from Bertrand-Bergé, a producer in Paziols, but their prices were somewhat higher.

For our last evening 'on holiday' we drove 10 minutes to the village of Tautavel for dinner at a highly recommended little restaurant called 'Le Petit Gris'. It is in a fantastic setting, overlooking the bolted crags of Tautavel (over 230 sport climbing routes, folks!) to which we have made a note to return in the future when Sadie is up and running. But I digress, where was I .... ah yes, dinner. My entrée was foies de volaille (chicken livers) panfried with raspberry vinegar and local herbs accompanied by a simple salad followed by slices of cooked salmon with a vegetable thian and mushrooms and finishing with the Catalan version of creme brulée - all in all, rather scrummy. Andy enjoyed a bowl full of around 30 'petit gris en estouffade' otherwise known as small snails in a Catalan stew sauce followed by 2 spatchcocked quail cooked over the woodfire with a beautifully light vegetable thian and Catalan chips which were actually hollow - don't ask me how they managed that as I have no idea! We had a half litre of the house rosé which was produced in the local vineyards. Superb food and wine all round.

But today, it was time to make our way home. We decided to take the scenic route which included a diversion to the coast where we stopped off at Argèles-sur-Mer for lunch. We stumbled upon a little restaurant off the main boulevard which welcomed dogs and at which we could eat outside in the shade - a plate of anchovies (delicately dressed with vinegar and a light oil) followed by an enormous pot of stonkingingly big moules catalanes and chips for me, Coquille Saint Jacques in a bechamel sauce followed by some tasty squid with the trimmings for himself. Other than that, Argèles was no different to any other 'sur mer' place on the Med Coast and we did not linger for long.

The next step of the journey home is not one that I would recommend. Amélie-les-Bains to Bouleternère should be avoided at all costs. 43kms of winding, ascending, descending, narrow roads through indifferent scenery which mainly consisted of, well, trees and not a great deal else! Tedious! The rest of the trip home was also winding ups and downs but thankfully through rather more interesting scenery but it had still been a pretty long day by the time we got home this evening. More hot weather here over the coming few days but with a bit more cloud which should make a roadie outing or a run more practicable.

Back home

Yesterday was indeed a scorcher, a beautiful warm Spring day, as forecast, but because of various physical impediments, neither Andy nor I got out on the bikes which was a shame. But we did enjoy a picnic out and an explore around the Puy de Sancy which was nice. Overnight, however, the weather changed and it rained, it rained a lot. So instead of hanging around today, kicking our heels, we decided to head home. Good job we did, because everything at home was bone dry - my dear neighbour had not watered anything in the potager, or in the pots, or the seeds that were just starting to come through. All my efforts so far this year were hanging on a knife edge. So my first job before even making a mug of tea was to water everything, but everything, including the poor clematis whose growth I had been so proud of before we went away but which was now in a dire state. I just hope it recovers. But on a more positive note, the climbing rose is bursting into flower and the few buds on the camellia have also burst out into beautiful red flowers. Photos to follow tomorrow. The meadow flowers have also come out in abundance, the lilac is in full bloom and the trees are now sporting the freshest, brightest, greenest foliage which is one of my favourite sights at this time of year.

It has been good to have a break away and to explore a new part of France about which I had read a great deal. But it is also good to be home again.

Biking in the Cantal

Quiet country roads. Rolling (not all gently!) countryside. Beautiful views. Ah yes, cycling in the Cantal. But it's bloody hard work!! Riding here isn't like riding the Cols back at home where it's one big, sustained push then it's over and you can contentedly collapse in a heap at the top knowing that it's mission accomplished and that you have thoroughly deserved the right to stuff your face with cake/ice cream/other scrummy stuff this evening, thank you very much. Oh no. Here, it's up and it's down, it's up and it's down (repeat ad nauseum) and, just for a laugh, right at the end just when a serious bit off let loose downhill wouldn't go amiss, it's up again! Hurrah! Such was today's ride But still, 67.7kms with 1153m of ascent in 3 hrs 17 mins. Not bad. But more fuel needed next time, methinks but in the meantime fruit cake is my recovery food. Tomorrow, rest and a bit of an explore and a walk down towards the southern part of the Cantal department. I shall report back.

Up in the Cantal

Somebody (British) recently described the Cantal dept in the Auvergne region of Central France as the Lake District and Scotland all rolled into one. But mention the Cantal to the French and you are greeted by an indifferent shrug. My curiousity was aroused. I had to find out for myelf! So we made the 4 1/2 hour trip up from the Ariege yesterday and are staying just outside Condat for the week. First impressions? Well, Condat feels like a ghost town. It's a decent-sized small town but even on a Saturday late afternoon it was empty - shops were shut, cars were few and far between, houses for sale ..... it felt almost uncomfortable in its emptiness. The friendliness and openness that I am used to from the locals in the Ariège is also noticeable in its absence. Strange.

Anyway, time to get out and explore. Today, while Andy headed out for a roadie ride, I took the pooch up to the village of Godivelle (1200m) to do a 14km circuit. I have to say, the views up there, towards the Puy de Sancy, were strikingBut everywhere was, again, deserted. The whole area had a feeling of wildness and abandonment about it. But then again, it's only in the past month that Winter has released its icey grip on this area of outstanding natural beauty and only now do things appear to be slowly, gently coming back to life. Click on the photo below and you will see some of the thousands and thousands of wild daffodils that carpet this area at this time of year ... stunning
Open spaces and more open spaces ....The Lac de St Alyre was reminiscent of any high mountain lake although it is only at 1200m It was a lovely, unhurried outing which definitely fell into the 'recreational' rather than 'training' category as I soaked up the stunning scenery and tranquillity of this new part of France. Much more to come during the week!