Friday 24 May 2013. Day 11.
It is exactly one year since we attended the funeral in Morpeth for my pal Alan Locke. Three hundred and sixty five days have passed. We have lived some of our dreams, Niki and I. We bought Brigitte as a part of a promise to ourselves that we would do what we wanted to do as if we only had one year of life to live. Alan in his passing taught us how to find more happiness together by living and doing what we want to do.
Our overnight stop at Camping Moulin de Saint Anne in Villegly was our second choice site. Our first choice had filled up by the time that we got there so that there were no electric pitches available. A pleasant enough site where the pitches were well screened by trees and shrubs. I find it odd that at some sites there is no loo roll provided. Even when the site is charging the top ACSI rate? Niki explained that the site may be offering things that qualify them for a higher ACSI banding but that we don’t use. I notice that they have a baby bath tub in the unisex WC block and also have loudspeakers playing what passes for music. Presumably you can torture a recalcitrant child in the tub whilst hiding the screams as they get deafened by the muzak? (Just in case you missed it – that last comment was a joke). I did notice, outside, a swimming pool and social area that people might use in more clement weather. I was having fun trying to keep on my feet walking around the site as the wind whipped at my heels.
Whilst washing our dishes in the multifunctional torture block, we met another English couple. Chattting about visiting the ‘cite’ they explained that there is one car park suitable for camping cars. All other car parks have a height barrier. A flat rate €5 fee is charged for parking but that allows up to six hours – more than enough time for what we have planned. WIth the van re-stowed we paid our dues and set off to find the parking. Carcassonne like most modern cities of a certain size has a ring road. Now forgive me if you have made this connection already but I think that these roads should be known as roundabout hell holes. That would be a more apt description. Almost as soon as your vehicle has built up any speed you have to decelerate to negotiate the next roundabout. I’m sure it was the lack of signposts and the plethora of roundabouts that had us sailing merrily away from our destination until Niki redirected me. A few kilometers backtracking and we negotiated our way into our nominated car park. From there it is but a short walk to the walled Cite – an impressive Walt Disney like affair when seen from afar. There were masses of people, some like us just arriving and others with tell tale gift bags obviously about to leave.
We entered across a moat and what would have been a draw-bridge, went through where a gate would have been housed and were inside. Here there are a cornucopia of shops selling cheap plastic tat, reproduction swordlike knives and vividly coloured sweets. People milled around. There were school trips, Japanese and other Nationals in groups, families and plenty of camping car types. We had all come to see how life had been lived in the 14C? and learn a little about the Cathars. These are my kind of people, the Cathars, they rejected the Roman Catholic cult. More of that story later.
Niki picked up a map and we set off to tour and photograph the sights. Apart from the kitsch that adorned some of the buildings this is a fascinating insight into life as it was once lived. I wonder if, at some future date, people will pole up somewhere to tour say a tower block or may be a Cornish Unit house or two?
We wandered the barricades, avoiding being knocked over by the German built tourist train. We looked down on the Bastide, not knowing what we were looking at because we had not turned the map over, and the modern traffic congested city.
Despite the Cathars the RC’s won out here it seems. The one time cathedral, Basilica of St Nazaire and St Celse, now a church is adorned with wonderfully coloured stained glass depictions of the fantasies that have sustained religion down the ages. Externally gargoyles and brickwork testify to the longevity and investment made whilst within dusty drapes attempt to protect items in areas where rain water has penetrated the roof. Yes even here entropy the reduction of all things to their lowest form is happening.
On our way back through the streets I was busy taking photos of things that had caught my eye. I would have snapped an orange and black leather jacket had not the sales assistant stepped forward to tell me that this was forbidden. She used this opener to tell us about their high quality goods. Made of lambs leather since 1856. A gentlemens jacket that I admired was a little short of €2,000 but was guaranteed not to leech dye in the rain, unlike the one I used to wear. Bob MacDonald had bought it from a market trader many years back and on wearing it in the rain I found that I was covered in soapy bubbles and that my jeans were being dyed black as the colour streamed out of the leather!
The rain showers had not marred our day and back in Brigitte we enjoyed a cup of tea before setting off for Agde. It was around three pm and our journey would take two and a half hours. We were initially driving between two sets of mountains, the Black mountains to our North and in the South the Corbieres mountains. For much of the way, the canal du Midi could be spotted running either alongside the road or slightly off in the distance. We both recalled the book “A Narrow Dog to Carcassonne” which was based upon the journey an English couple made along the canal in an English barge. The most memorable part of the story for me was their crossing of the English Channel.
Beziers proved to be an interesting city that we passed through. High on a hill we spotted what looked like a castle and to our right as we crossed the river by bridge there was an ornate aqueduct or railway bridge? Eschewing toll road travel does have benefits in that you see more of the country and its cities even if the journey takes a little long.
Our arrival at the first site of a possible three had us fleeing from a requirement to deposit a credit card at reception and wear a plastic arm band. Oh, wifi here, available at €4 per day – foxtrot oscar! The second site was down a dismal lane. The third, from which I am writing this, has some short comings – the shower and toilet blocks are like wind tunnels, OK in the summer but now in this late May autumnal spell, positively freeze making – but taken in the round is good value, clean and tidy.
Agde is internationally known for its naturist beach. It is though a place of three parts. There are the new high density living on the sea houses and apartments complexes. There is the naturist beach and its accompanying accommodations – I pause to ponder if there are houses and apartment complexes where one must follow the naturist code? And finally there is old Agde a harbour and impressive buildings. We saw a little of the living on the sea Agde as we walked around on our first evening here and nothing apart from a mishmash of roads as we tried to get to Hyper U whilst shopping for food on Saturday.
The walking and driving have left me feeling wiped out and so Niki produced supper from items that she cleared from the fridge and cooked and fried into a delicious caesar salad type dish of smoked sausage, potatoes, chicken piled onto lettuce leaves which Niki had salvaged from an unopened packet of three lettuces bought in St Gaudens, victims of modern supermarket, sold at its visual peak, collapsed into a rotting heap the day after, marketing. What we had tasted wonderful including the lettuce salvage! The Chicken Tagine was from an earlier evening!
Facebook, email and blogging took up the evening which ended the anniversary day. We had, as ever, covered a lot of ground and had seen plenty of new things.
Saturday 25th May 2013. Day 12.
Having an internet connection and a VPN tunnel allowed me to listen to BBC R5Live coverage of the final qualifying for the Monaco GP. Following a skype call with David and Mary I had looked at the possibility of taking the train to Monaco. A five o’clock start to get there at lunchtime. Doable, just. However the only race day tickets still available were for yacht berths at €1400 or so. That was that plan scuppered.
Practicalities then took over and we were lugging a huge bag plus armfuls of washing to the site laundrette. Back in the van I half listened to the radio as the rainy weather impacted on qualifying.
Lunch, a bacon and mustard topped chunk of baguette washed down with yet more tea preceeded our trip out with the scooter. We were going to buy food rations. A huge supermarket carrying the tag HyperU dominates the road into Agde. Getting into the supermarket was a challenge. I took a right turn but it was a turn too soon and I found myself heading onto a major road and away from our redezvous with fresh foods! The fuel tank on the scooter was somewhat low and was almost empty by the time we had visited the centre of modern Agde and inched our way back, I know not how.
Hyper U lived up to its name, it is huge. Fortunately they have Asian fish sauce. We can have Vietnamese Nuoc Cham – hurrah. We also found chicken, pork, stain spot remover and salad stuff but no mayonaise. There were mustard flavoured mayo’s but none of the ordinary variety that I could see. I was probably defeated by choice!
The route back to the van was simpler. We could see the end of a ‘route barree’ that we had decided not to drive down when leaving the site. Had we taken this at the start we would have arrived at ‘U’ in moments but as the sign indicated a closed road, we had at that time followed the instruction. Many locals chose to disregard the sign and on this occasion I followed suit!
Aboard the van it was time for, yes you’ve guessed it, tea and pain au chocolat. A chance to relax in the sun. Niki got busy with supper – Nuoc Cham. I read a bit and persuaded some Mk1 friends to set up a Rivage and Sportline group on FB.
Our evening was spent planning tomorrow’s trip to Gordes via San Remy de Provence, where we shall stop at an Alchemists garden – a botanical garden plus a maze.
Sunday 26th May 2013. Day 13.
The morning routine, cup of tea in bed, a few pages on the kindle whilst Niki’s pill does its thing and then a kiss and a cuddle before we get up. Porridge, currently taken with honey, a special ‘miel’ made from honey harvested from bee hives located so that the bees can feast from heather pollen, exquisite. Followed by two cups of coffee. The day is underway. I check email accounts, twitter accounts and facebook accounts. Being on a site with good wifi coverage is indeed like being at a home from home. The same can be said for those sites that provide loo seats and toilet roll in their loo cubicles. No, I haven’t yet figured out this oddity of camping life. I cannot imagine that in their own homes campsite owners retire to the loo with their own personal roll of toilet paper. Yet here we are in the country where men have to wear a specific design of swimming trunk, on grounds of hygiene, and I have to not only provide my own loo roll but also have to sit on cold and sometimes cracked porcelain. Sacre bleu!
This site does good business. Pitches do not remain vacant for very long. The French couple and their irksome satellite dish who were in the pitch next to us for one night, had moved off with their caravan. Perhaps they feel the need to be somewhere where the trees do not obstruct the celestial view of their aluminium receiver dish? We too will be packing up, though our reason for moving is a desire to visit Provence. Stowing away our electricity cable, I get chatting to the English fellow who moved onto the vacated pitch next to us yesterday. Then, he was halfway under their almost new van. His wife said that he was repairing the waste water fitting when I made an offer of assistance. A chirpy guy, ex 3 Para, he said that he was in Cyprus in 1958 when the troubles were on for the British. He recalled being sent down to Ledra Street in Nicosia after an event between GC’s and TC’s. He said that he was one of the last National Service men? I would guess that that makes him about Dad’s age?
We chatted about his new van, he had good things to say about the conversion, done by Adria in Slovenia. The base vehicle being the almost ubiquitous Fiat long wheelbase panel van. The interior layout combines a fixed double bed, shower and toilet cubicle, two burner hob. With the led lighting the overall impression was very good. Our new friend pointed out his mirror guards – plastic covers designed to withstand an impact and thereby protect your vehicle mirrors. He said that the cost of replacing a van mirror was £300. He learned this, when a fellow motorcaravanner clattered his whilst waving to him! Our new friend recommended mirrorguard, at £100 per set. Worth checking out when we next have a web connection. Then we spoke about WW1 and WW2 battlefields and the area around the Somme. Our new pal lives in Folkestone and so has good connections with France as it is just across the water.
A long time motorcaravanner, it was good to chat. However time was calling us away and so we said cheerio, we left a card for the couple with the Morgan, paid our dues at the accueil and got the gate barrier raised. On the open road we decided to test the peage with the aim of giving Niki some wheel time. Niki’s first stint at the wheel was first class. Driving initially along the three lane peage, negotiating the payment booth and then turning off onto the more local roads Niki had the van under control in all situations. An opportunity to change drivers presented itself at a set of traffic lights and so Niki returned to her more usual seat.
We stopped to admire the canal and boats at Port de Plaissance, Bellegarde en route to Beaucaire and up the D99 to St Remy de Provence where Niki had her first Salade de Geziers (gizzard salad) some years past. St Remy is one of those ‘yoo hoo, can you see me? type places. The streets were lined with cars parked anywhere as people tucked into their Sunday repast. Then we went to Mas de la Brune and walked around the Alchemist’s Garden, a cannily named botanical garden. The design has woven three themes to create a pleasing experience. You enter a maze in the shape of the word ‘Bereshit’ which translates to ‘the beginning’. From there you enter what is described as the magical garden. You are informed that magic precedes alchemy because it came before alchemy and is more powerful than the search for the philosopher’s stone (check). Some interesting plantings of species togther with explanatory labelling, make for an entertaining experience. Saving the best for last, you enter the first of three gardens comprising the Alchemist’s garden. Black is the introductory colour and the theming is carried out to good effect as is the transition to the wonderful white garden. The third and final phase of the alchemical garden experience is achieved through the red garden. We probably stayed for an hour perhaps a little longer and it was a good, fun experience.
Today our final destination will be Gordes, an oddly named, beautiful, Provencal village. Before arriving we navigate our way through Cavaillon and then the narrow lanes that wind their way up to this place in the Luberon. Our barometer has gone from ‘Change’ which indicated a sunny day at Agde, almost at sea level, to below 28, well past ‘Stormy’ with no change in the weather, just our elevation! Having spent a good part of the afternoon trailing behind a long snake of traffic that was being held up by a rather slow moving gypsy van, I was happy to find myself on the run in to Gordes, tailing a large black coach. I calculated that a. If he could get into the village, so could I! and b. any idiot heading towards us who went out of control would likely hit the bus rather than us. This worked for me up to the point where we were in the heart of Gordes and the coach pulled to the roadside and came to a halt, journey’s end for that driver. We rounded the roundabout and ploughed on out of the village climbing ever skyward.
Our chosen camping site Domaine Du Camping Des Sources boasts a panoramic view over the Luberon. A visit to the reception / bar / wifi area confirmed that this is no hollow boast, the area is outstandingly beautiful.
We have a few attempts to get the van onto our allotted parking space, on a slope, with overhanging trees, a narrowish access road and a low wall to contend with I opt to turn the van up hill before reversing in. Judging the turning point is where the plan nearly comes unstuck. the first two attempts see us almost buried in the branches of a gnarled tree. On the third attempt, I go higher up the hill and with the help of the young couple opposite make the turn in by taking two bites at it. Campers are, by and large, a friendly bunch of people. I’m thinking back to the kindness showed to me by Pierre, my Dutch pal who helped me fix our rear lights at Camping Aquarius almost a fortnight ago.
Relaxing in my seat whilst typing this blog, I’m tempted to make comparisons between the Luberon and my beloved Pyrenees but decide against this. There really is no point. The sensible thing to do is to live in the moment, enjoy the warmth of the evening sun before it dips below the trees. Time for a gin and tonic. Tomorrow I expect that we will be off exploring. Niki will be keen to revisit old haunts and show me why she so loves this place. That will be fun!
This evening for supper we are having Pork with Apples, Garlic and Honey served on a bed of Potatoes – my mouth is watering in anticipation and I can smell the scent of the garlic that Niki has just minced. What a lovely life we lead. I may have missed the F1 GP from Monaco but I’m not at all concerned. Our day has been full of action, no pit stops for tyres were call for, despite driving over what looked like the remains of a windscreen in the middle of a street in a small town that we passed through – phew! Our fuel gauge is now well into the last quarter tank. So far we have covered 376 miles since refuelling at St Gaudens. If we can time the refill appropriately we can get an indication of the fuel consumption. This is something that hithertofore I have resisted doing ,on the ground that we are doing what we want to do and should therefore not count the cost. This is our hobby / lifestyle choice.
Monday 27th May 2013. Day 14.
The weather is with us! Sunshine so hot you could cook an egg. All around us the site is abuzz with people setting off on cycles, propelling themselves towards challenges with walking poles and then there is us. A leisurely breakfast and lunch and we meander across to Oppede Le Vieux on the scooter. En route we stop to photograph all sorts of scenic things – poppies spring to mind.
Once there we park in the car park, €2 for the moto Sir. Ascending, notice how these lovely places are set atop hills? The photos will do more justice to OlV than I can. I note that whilst Gordes and Rousillon flourish to this day, it is the crumbing splendour that attracts visitors to OlV. A village that didn’t make it is nearly as popular as those that have made it, hereabouts!
When we arrive, there are people finishing their lunches. I can’t help wonder which of these is gorging from the benefits of his or her off-shore account. it could be any one or none of them. Perhaps I should not read controversial books? We make the most of the good weather and climb to the church and chateau that Niki remembers from previous expeditions to this part of France. Peter Mayle has brought many many thousands here, some like Niki return time after time, it is easy to see why! Villages built using limestone, always a good choice for picturesque. Set atop hilly outcrops. Painted in pastel, sun bleached tones. The valleys full of vineyards and carefully cultivated fields. Happy people all around. No outward signs of poverty here.
Many of the former homes have their windows and doorways infilled with stone or occassionally wooden boards, now rotting and bulging ominously. Who lived here? When? Why and when did they leave? Questions largely without answers today. At the top sits a RC church, a cobbled, stepped path wide enough to admit a narrow tractor has had a patchwork of wooden planks and baulks of timber laid so that builders can get materials up to the church where restoration works seem to be ongoing, but not today. Niki is disgusted to find that the entranceways to the chateau that she and Livi once clambered over are now sealed shut. Signs warn of rockfalls. Photographs are taken. I seek out little insights as well as taking the broad panoramas.
We head back down that cobbled path, past another church, presumably less successful, it stands ruined. Further down the way is almost blocked by a builder who is working feverishly at renovating or repairing one of the habitable houses. Many houses here show signs of habitation. They also look for all of the world as if they are used perhaps for two weeks in a year. In a later text message exchange between Niki and Paul, Paulie comments that perhaps the chateau is now owned by the Jolie-Pitts.
Once outside of the town walls we sit and have coffee and ice cream. It is fun to see people arrive, compose and take their photos before they to ascend to the chateau. Others are content to take a long lunch across the square. In one of the large houses a woman keeps peeking out of a window as cars come and go. Clearly she is expecting customers.
There is much to photograph. I am happy snapping away. We decide to head across to Menerbes. Riding the scooter across quite poorly maintained roads I muse that all of Europe faces the same set of problems with limited cash available to resolve those problems.
In Menerbes we park and wander the streets. A local with a grasp of English impresses upon us details of the sites to see. Niki, restrained, thanks him and we set off to visit the key sights which include the “Halle of Truffle” and a Cimetire with a stunning view. The square in which sits the museum was used in the filming of Picasso staring Anthony Hopkins. That is how beautiful these towns/villages are.
Heading back for the bike we pause at the Cafe le Progres a location mentioned by Peter Mayle in “A Year in Provence”. Niki has it in her mind that the cafe a few metres further down the street, now up for sale, was the one used in the film. There is no one to adjudicate this matter and I feel sure Niki will check her facts when she has access to a robust internet connection!!
Back on site the sun is still doing its stuff though it is noticeably cloudier and the barometer has started to drop. Across from us the couple in the German registered van are BBQing which has caught the attention of one of the site dogs. Later he will be rewarded with a bone to gnaw upon. Niki sets to to conjure yet another one burner meal. Tonight we dine on Pork with Apples and Honey – yummy scrummy food with gateaux de riz for pudding. I can feel the weight climbing back on!
We watch episode three of “A Game of Thrones” before heading to bed. I take a lemsip for my throat which feels like sand paper.
Our trusty steed powers us back to Gordes
Tuesday 28th May 2013. Day 15.
The noise of rain on the Heiki roof light confirms the weather forecast. Our plans made yesterday had ensured we got in visits to OlV and Menerbes in sunshine. It is market day today, stallholders will have set up early in Gordes and will all have left by one o’clock. The rain comes in showers and is reasonably light. Listening to Derek Sivers we drank coffee in the van and waited for the shower to finish. Using the scooter to get into town proved to be a good move, we are granted free parking in the car-park. The parking attendant either took pity on us or more likely, wanted to continue the conversation he was having.
The grey day had not stopped people from attending the market. A few, like us, were even spending money. We bought cheeses, sausage, potted spreads, honey, a baguette, a mortar and pestle made from olive wood and a dress for Niki. Niki has a knack for spotting a design that she likes. On a rack filled to overflowing with designs, according to the label, run up in Italy, Niki found her perfect little summer dress. She quizzed the stall holder about the price and secured a discount of five Euro on the ticket price. A few minutes pondering a couple of design options and the deal was done. The guy behind my back, had a stall selling plant arrangements set in driftwood style frames was not doing a roaring trade and I could sense his dis-ease. he did not make one sale whilst I was watching.
Though what the stall holders made of us, I have no idea. Niki insisted on keeping her motorcycle crash helmet on her head. She was also wearing Paulie’s motorcycle jacket and looked quite a bruiser. I in turn was carrying my crash helmet but was unaware of the strange twist in my hair that wearing the thing had caused! Oh well, a little harmless fun on an otherwise dull and rainy day. We visited the castle like building at the heart of the town where we were assisted at the tourist information, viewed the magnificent reception dining room and were also admitted without charge to a display of art by artists who it seems have or had made Gordes their homes. At around one we set off back to camp for lunch.
In the van I cut a hunk of bread from my new baguette and sampled some of the delicious pastes we had bought. Anchovy, tomato and mustard. Then the cheeses. We were in seventh heaven for a while. With lunch done, we were contemplating going to Isle Sur La Sorgue when the weather started to become progressively worse. We spent part of the afternoon in the reception / bar on the internet and part of the afternoon in the camping car attempting a jigsaw puzzle that we had bought for one Euro at a Vide Grenier in BSG last year.
Concentrating on a jigsaw can be helped by a gin and tonic and a variety of nibbles – olives, pistachios, sausage. In our case these proved to be our undoing. Niki set to making a chicken, lentil and tomato dish. I caught up two days worth of blogging.
Tomorrow we will be on the move. Our plans have been revised because of the weather. We shall head for a site near to Isle Sur La Sorgue. That should make it easier to visit “Venice of Provence”. It’s now eight o’clock and time for another episode of Game of Thrones or else perhaps we shall finish watching “A Good Year”. If the latter, it will be in our bed. And yes, it is still raining. The inexpensive fan heater that we bought last year and repaired earlier in this trip by glueing its rubber feet into place using isocyanurate “Super Glue”, is such a boon in weather like this – hurrah!
Wednesday 29th May 2013. Day 16.
We know that at six thirty in the morning in Cyprus in the last days of May the sun will be rising in the sky and that the heat will already be high. Here in wonderful Provence today the electronic temperature gauge indicates eight point two degrees Celsius! It is bloody cold getting out of bed to go for that urgently needed first pee of the day!
I can hear birdsong outside of our van. This is good news. Hearing the birds instead of the tap tap tap of raindrops on the outershell of our house on wheels suggests that the rain has stopped. We will be moving camp today and so having a dry spell will assist with restowing the scooter. That job is always awkward and never easy in the wet as the almost polished surface of the aluminium ramp that I have to drive the scooter up and into the garage of the van, offers little grip, I may encounter the 102cc ‘beast’ wheel spinning up the incline. I’m also thinking that the well wetted clay soil may becomed chewed up by the little tyres thus adding to the potential loss of traction. We shall see. As it was, restowing the scooter proved to be a breeze.
There were greater hazards for the unaware in the thorn covered tree that was partially blocking the steps that one needed to climb to get up to the terrace on which the sanitaires are situated. Then there are the rocks dotted about. Yes, any number of slip, trip and impact hazards to give a Health and Safety Officer nightmares.
It felt good to be away from Les Sources campsite and to wend our way down through the early morning throng of visitors making their personal pilgrimage to Gordes. We stopped at the large unsurfaced car park that suggested being a convenient place to leave the van and set off on foot towards the Bourse village. Visiting these fascinating dry stone houses is a link to a past that most of us could hardly comprehend. They were, for the most part entirely windowless and had only one door which was always on the south elevation. Their structure is dependant upon the precision of the builder. He has to lay the stones in such a way that a lower stone is two thirds covered by an upper stone. In this way the roof arches inwards towards its ridgeline.
I knew instinctively that I was not feeling at all well because the walk to the village and back to the camping car nearly had me bent double. The sun overhead made all of the difference by lifting my mood even though it could not cure the underlying illness.
As we had been walking around the stone village, I had heard what I had taken to be someone playing a radio at high volume. That mystery was solved when we came up behind a little yellow van equipped with a couple of amber beacons and some foghorn style loudspeakers. The van was puttering along and its driver was calling the faithful to church, well to the circus actually!
Into Isle sur la Sorgue onto site and set up. Then we head into town so that Niki can track down the missing Sarah Pacini shop. She found where it had been and that it had closed. We then had a ramble about, taking in the waterways and the cafes and shops. Niki decided that it would be good to sample an ice cream, my cold / hayfever was doing me no favours at all. Niki generously shared her ice with me. I could not taste much of the flavour but enjoyed the cool soothing effect on my throat.
Thursday 30 May 2013. Day 17.
Today we moved from Les Sorguettes in Isle sur la Sorgue to Camping Luberon in Apt. The first task after packing up and settling our account was to refuel Brigitte. The shopping trip we made yesterday confirmed that we could get diesel at the local Super U and so it was simply a matter of negotiating the road works on the road leading to the fuel station. Traffic seemed heavy but perhaps that was due to the fact that this road was the main way into Isle sur la Sorgue. It was not long before we were filled with fuel and heading off for Apt. We re-passed the road to Gordes and also a couple of junctions that we had crossed on our way to Oppede le Vieux. Then there was Coustellet, a village with a cross-roads. Niki says that on the first visit of the clan there had been no traffic lights on the junction. Something that has now been remedied. The place looks as though it too is benefiting from the overall re-valuation of the Luberon.
The journey to Apt passes uneventfully. As we enter the town there is an unmistakable smell coming from the fruit processing plant that sits on a new industrial estate on the outskirts. Niki says that Apt has a reputation for producing sugared fruit sweets amongst one hundred and one other things they have dreamed up to do with fruits.
The reception office of Camping Luberon was still open when we arrived at a quarter past twelve. We were helped to locate a pitch and provided with all of the usual information. As always happens, there were one or two raised eyebrows from people who were more intent on sun worshipping than moving when I manouvred the van down the narrowish site roads. Setting up today would be easy, a straighforward reverse onto our plot and then the ramps under the front wheels to level the van. Bingo. Electricity and water. Job done. Lunch of baguette, anchovyaide, tomato and mustard puree, cheeses – some of our purchases from Gordes market, so yummy. My cold / hayfever was worsening. We spent much of the afternoon on the jigsaw puzzle. A mountain scene with trees, snow, buildings and sky the colours tend to be white, blue, grey and black. One thousand pieces of fun or hell, depending on the rate of progress.
Supper was provided by a mobile caterer who poles up every Thursday, takes orders, cooks them and dispenses them. We plumped for a roasted chicken and potatoes. €10 well spent as the bird and spuds gave us enough for two good meals. Our evenings have been mostly filled watching Game of Thrones this last few days. Tonight we will watch episodes seven and eight. Tomorrow will finish the last two.
Friday 31 May 2013. Day 18.
We both have a rotten stinking cold. I’m a couple of days ahead of Niki with the symptoms it seems. Today we get to sample the first of the bread and croissants from the visiting baker. If you want pain au chocolat you have to get up and queue ready for her arrival at eight thiry. As newbies, Niki joined the queue at eight thirty and by the time she was served the pain au chocolat had run out. Niki had a croissant and has apparently suffered no ill effects.
An easy morning and afternoon were the order of the day. Those others on site who were out and about enjoying the weather must have thought us odd. Had they looked in through the windows they would have seen us working away at the jigsaw yet again. Crazy English!
Tomorrow should see it finished I mused. After three we went into town to stock up on basics: milk, tonic, chocloate, fruit. It didn’t feel good, I was aching and sweating. I was glad to get back to base. By evening we had exhausted our supply of Lemsip type powders.
In the evening we ventured down to the bar. There we sent a couple of emails to keep people up to speed with our movements. The site operates two wifi systems. The first is only available around the bar and only delivers thirty minutes of connected time per day. It is however free to use. The second system is available across the site at a daily charge of eight euros. Which to me feels like extortion and so I will not pay it. We should be able to tether the computers via our mobiles for only two pounds per day but for some reason neither of us seem able to make this work…
Our evening entertainment is drawing to a close. The boxed set of DVD’s of The Game of Thrones that I bought Niki at Christmas has only two episodes remaining. These we watched back to back. They proved to be as unpredictable and entertaining as the earlier instalments. There has been much killing and so the cast has been decimated during the run of the show. There will have to be a slew of new characters or ghosts a plenty in the next series. We must wait to find out.
Well the two of us are groggy and tired, and so we head to bed. Fortunately this site goes quiet as the sun goes down and by ten pm is positively silent. There are no noisy dogs and no crying babies to speak of. A final paracetamol and a page or two of “Treasure Islands” and I’m ready for sleep.
I very much hope that we are feeling better tomorrow and that we shall again feel like exploring. It seems such a waste to be sat here in this beautiful place and feeling so damnably awful.
Saturday 1 June 2013. Day 19.
The first day of June this year has me thinking. Happy Birthday Lorraine. My sister has her birthday today on the first of June, an annual event for as long as I can remember. Dad’s birthday will follow on the fifth. Auntie Phil had her birthday on 16 June? Nicola and Jeremy will welcome the arrival of their son this month. The due date is 18th but baby will decide when the time is right. How exciting. I wonder what name they will choose for their son?
Of matters more mundane, Niki and I have decided that given the state of our colds, which we agree feel more like mini flu episodes, we will not be moving onwards today. We let the site know that we will extend our stay until Sunday night. Our gate pass is still working, despite my using an ‘incorrect’ passcode! Ha ha, how novel. Given our lowly fitness levels, it makes sense to rest up here before we head off. Perhaps by Monday we will feel and be fitter?
Above the bedroom the rooflight provides a window on the world above us. I watch as a large bee gathers honey from the flowers of the tree that overhangs our pitch. The leaf pattern suggests an Ash tree which I believe the French refer to as a Service tree. I will google why they have given the tree this name, later. Later, I am under the bonnet of the van attempting to remove the headlamp to gain access to the double skinned section in the hope that I can pop the worst of the dent that we acquired in Camping Les Sources, Gordes. With the bonnet up I can see that a huge amount of the flowers, from which the bees had presumably fed, have fallen and gathered in the folds where the front bulkhead and engine bay meet, also where the vehicle wings are attached. A wry smile crosses my face and I look up to see the bees are still about their work.
Today is market day in Apt. We decide to visit. Initially the number of stallholders appears scarce but as we make our way into the streets of the old town those streets are filled with market traders selling their goods. The lady who makes accessories using soda can ring pulls is here. Delice de Luberon, one of many vendors of tapenade and other saucy sauces is here. The honey sellers, the sausage and cheese sellers. The florists. The clothes sellers. They are all here. Today, as it is not raining, I notice a couple of stalls where genuine ‘Panama’ hats are on sale – from €45 upwards. For a felt or straw hat?
We had fun, buying goat cheese, buying fresh pungent garlic, buying sun dried tomatoes, buying vanilla bean pods from Madagascar, buying RinQuinQuin – a peach liqueur. A punnet of cherries, some Mesclun – provencal salad leaves of rocket, lambs and endives and a boxed set of photos of Provencal field scenes that Niki feels would complement our b&w photo wall in VCD.
We hasten our little scoot up the hill out of Apt back to our site and the van. It is baking hot and we decide to have a snack lunch before we set off to visit Seignon. Uphill, full throttle and the motor of our little scooter is just about pulling us along. Those 102cc coupled with the 98 grade fuel bring us the four kilometers to yet another very picturesque village perched atop yet another Luberon limestone, rocky outcrop. The older parts of the village have much more character than the new hence the view from afar is likely to adorn most photos. There is promise within though. The quirky signs, the aged paint, the quirky aged people. One guy springs to mind, not so much selling lavender essence as quietly brooding on his chair as we and other visitors pass by. I’m sure someone bought from him, just not us. His dog bless her, lay in the sun, chained but uncomplaining. It would have been interesting to have been able to hold a conversation with this fellow to see if he was of the countryside as he appeared or was hamming it up for the visitors. I prefer to think that he is the genuine article.
Niki and I scaled the highest of the heights all 820 metres, as attested to by the ceramic viewpoint thingy that every spot of French height worthy of a name seems to have. We spotted towns and villages. We pointed towards Buoux, hidden behind a hill. We will be heading there tomorrow to take lunch at The Auberge de la Loube. This, a ritual of Abbott clan gatherings of the nineties, is a place that Niki very much wants us to visit and enjoy. I hope her cold has improved by lunch time tomorrow so that she can taste and enjoy the meal.
Niki points out the village fountain, a rather ornate piece for such a small community, less than one thousand inhabitants, according to Provence A-Z. the author, Peter Mayle, says that the eminent sculptor Monsieur Sollier created the piece. Of more interest to me was the communial lavabos. A huge stone affair comprising three sections. Niki mused that closest to the out flow one would wash, the centre section would be reserved for the first rinse and the area of the inflow was where the final rinsing would be done. This sounds plausible and worthy of further research when we get home.
A group of perhaps ten elderly men were playing boules on a court near the chuch. Off to their right four young German speakers, two males and two females were engaged in their own game. It was the large group of men that Niki and I watched for a couple of hands. They drew a circle on the floor within which the person pitching his boule was required to stand. The smaller jack was tossed out and a marker created a rough mark on the gravel floor. Then players would throw as alternate pairs. It was hard to see who was competing with whom but there were some gifted shots played. This is a game where there seems to be little advantage gained by being young. The iron boule were retrieved by use of a metre or so long chain at the end of which was a powerful magnet, thus removing the need to stoop to lift the boule! We have been saying for such a long time that we must get a set of boule, the time feels right. Where shall we go to buy them? Perhaps we should have asked these fellows. I didn’t think of it until later. Ah well. There is yet time…
The jigsaw is proving to be hard to complete. I recognise that we have been out and about today. No bad thing. But piecing the jigsaw togther has slowed to a snails pace. All of the easy to do pieces are slotted together, now there is only the grind to the finish. There is about one quarter of the jigsaw to do and I don’t plan to give up. Two hundred and fifty pieces stand between us and victory!
Another minor victory. While Niki was concocting grilled pork chops on a bed of Mesclun served with chopped tomatoes and onion, I was busy removing the front nearside headlight from the van. The front panel has to be taken out first – four cross head screws hold this in place. The WD40 that I had applied to them when I was sorting out the air filter issue helped to speed their undoing. Next there are two 10mm bolts that hold the headlamp in place. With these out I felt that the unit should wiggle out easily. It didn’t. In fact at one point there was an ominous noise that sounded like cracking plastic. Oh no. Had I made matters worse? I referred to the handbook and discovered that the end of the headlamp unit was being held by a peg that pressed into a captive clip. I levered it out gently and could see that my earlier wiggling around had cause the clip unit to partially dislodge from its mount thus giving rise to the ‘noise’. Phew. With the headlamp out of the way I could see a narrow opening into the double skinned wing area. This is where I needed to get my hand or an implement. You see I had, in reversing into the pitch at the Gordes site, put the wing into a twiggy bush. What I didn’t know was that the twiggy bush had previously been cut back and lurking sight unseen there were some robust, ten centimetre diameter, twiggy ends. They didn’t mind my reversing. They stood their and punched a neat little dent into the wing which then dished inwards. The only sign that I had that there was anything untoward was when the offending twig sprang away with a clattering boom of a noise.
A few more forwards and backward moves were required to get us into our pitch. Indeed at one stage I thought we might have to abandon the effort. In a last ditch Herculean effort I ventured into the pitch opposite, almost nudging the front of the camping car. It has to be said that in this matter I was receiving directions from the young woman who together with her husband were occupying said camping car. This final effort was repaid. Brigitte got her bottom into the pitch, we were able to get almost straight. We could do no better than be where we were on the pitch and that was it. Niki was overjoyed that we were parked. The electricity was hooked up and yes the kettle went on for a cuppa.
It was well into the next day or it may have been the day after that when I noticed the odd outline of the wing. So having bided my time until today. The cold must be receding! I have managed to restore Brigitte as best I can. She will have to bear this scar as I presently cannot see any justification for spending money to restore the wing to showroom condition. Let us hope that this is the worst injury that Brigitte will suffer whilst she is with us.