Encore, Encore ….. yes, a couple of years ago we were in Collonges-la-Rouge for the first time. Back in France and we decided we liked it so much we would go back again.
Collonges-la-Rouge is located in the Correze, and just over ninety kilometers away from Serandon, where we are staying.
The first thing you notice, when you enter the village, is the colour of the buildings. The majority of them have been built using the local red sandstone.
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Le Cantou – Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
Collonges-la-Rouge
These photos are just a small selection, there are more on my previous post.
You’ll notice the ominous clouds in some of the shots. The rain held off until we sat down to lunch in Restaurant Le Cantou. Being British we were fool enough to sit outside. And, even though we were under two large umbrellas, the inevitable happened, and water began to pour onto our table. One of the waitresses came and pulled our table further under cover but the deluge was too much and we were forced to move inside.
The food was very good, so was the wine which originated from Cahors. Gerry was able to have a second glass but, being the designated driver, no, only driver, I had to stop at one.
After touring the village we returned to the car and set of to re-visit Beaulieu-sur-Dodogne. However, the weather was against us and the heavens opened. The rain looked set for the evening, and so it seemed as we drove back to the gite. The windscreen wipers had never worked so hard.
The weather forecast on Tuesday evening showed, yet again, the whole of France was going to get wet. So, hedging our bets again, we opted to go shopping in Bort les Orgues. Then, if the weather tends towards the dry side, we could still do the tourist thing.
The satnag took us straight down into the gorge immediately below our gite. This was a quiet country lane yet to be explored, by us. Not long on the road, no more than five minutes, and I was out with my camera…
…… and again as we passed through Champagnac.
The trouble with this region is that around every other bend in the road is a view. Every turn takes you through another pretty village, with a quaint church or building with a distinctive architectural style.
As always, the roads are empty and the villages devoid of visible life. Of course, the nearer you get to a significant town, the peace and tranquility disappears.
And so it was on this occasion. Windy country roads, climbing in and out of the gorges, eventually gave way to the busy roads feeding Bort les Orgues.
Having previously visited the town, nearly two years ago, we quickly located the Carrefour supermarket which is much bigger than our local Intermarche in Neuvic.
I won’t bore you with the details but, some thirty-five minutes later we had replenished our grocery stocks, loaded our purchases into the car and set about finding a place to eat.
Parking up, alongside the Dordogne, we crossed over the river and had a very nice meal in the restaurant of the Central Hotel. Should you ever visit Bort the food and service here is very good.
Dordogne River – Bort-les-Orgues
Central Hotel – Bort-les-Orgues
Suitably revitalised and with the weather behaving itself, we set about touring the centre of Bort.
Window display – Bort-les-Orgues
Having exhausted our need for window shopping we decided to search out a local view-point, “les Orgues”. Once again the satnag denied the existence of any such “Point of Interest”. I really am going to have to complain to TomTom. To get the satnag to play ball, I had to point it at a nearby hamlet.
Well, I think TomTom planned the resultant route out of spite. Shortly after setting off I had to make a three-point turn to negotiate a hairpin bend while negotiating a 10% incline.
The single track road quickly degenerated into a dirt track with a steep drop down to Bort on one side and a ragged edge into a gulley on the other.
I didn’t dare stop to take pictures for fear I wouldn’t be able to get going forwards again. And I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to reverse back down to Bort. I am also pretty sure Gerry had her eyes closed so, as a photographer she was somewhat indisposed.
Eventually, we found ourselves back on normal roads and were soon parked up at the view-point. You can see for yourselves if it was worth the scary drive.
Having admired the view and taken the pics, we set off on our meandering journey home. Enjoying the scenery, between rain showers, but being inexorably called by two cups of tea.
But there is always time for one or two more photos ….
The weather, since we arrived, has been nothing like we had anticipated. We had expected for the temperatures to be higher than back in the UK. Apart from a couple of days, the temperatures have been quite low, the days have been dull and the last couple of days have been decidedly wet.
With that in mind, we decided to hedge our bets and do a château tour. At least, if its raining, we can be inside.
So off we set on, Sunday morning, for Hautefort which is to the west of Brive-la-Gaillarde in the Perigord. And so as to not get distracted we programmed the satnag for the quickest route, including tolls.
Before one reaches the village of Hautefort, you are treated to glimpses of the château from several miles out. Built, as it is, on a promontory the château dominates the landscape. Shame the weather detracted somewhat but here is a shot to give you some idea of the scene.
Chateau Hautefort – A distant view through the rain and mist
We initially parked immediately below the château and walked up into the village. Planning to have lunch before entering the chateau proper.
Although there were several eateries, it transpired that they were fully booked. This being a Sunday, I suppose we shouldn’t have been surprised. Never mind, just a few hundred metres further on we came across Le “Me” Loko, a brasserie. We were soon seated, orders taken and beers delivered. I had what was basically a Ciabatta roll filled with hot roast beef, onions, mushrooms and gravy with chips and salad on the side. Gerry had a salad of prawns with pineapple and sun-dried tomatoes. Not a gourmet meal but good nonetheless.
Throughout the meal we were observed by a white wolf, well perhaps a white alsation type dog. She seemed to keep coming and sitting by our table with a canine smile, patiently waiting for any scraps. Obviously she didn’t know me and how rare scraps are when I am around. I did ask her if she had seen John Snow recently. She seemed to perk up at the mention of his name. Or, maybe, I just imagined it.
After lunch we completed our tour of the village, which meant we had walked the perimeter of the château base. Arriving back at the car park we decided to move the car up nearer the ticket office, to save ourselves from having to climb the hill again.
The château is most impressive and one forgets that it is also an ancient fortress. However, the presence of a drawbridge acts as a quick reminder.
Apparently Chateau Hautefort is built on the site of former Roman camp and historical records indicate the presence of some kind of fortress as far back as 1000 A.D. Since then the château has gone through some dramatic transformations culminating in the grand building which dominates the landscape.
For many years the château was left untended, until 1929 when it was purchased by Baron and Baronne de Bastard. Baron de Bastard carried out considerable works to save and restore the château. These works were interrupted by WW2 when the château was used to store art collections from eastern France. After the war restoration works continued before stalling again due to the death of Baron de Bastard.
Baronne de Bastard took up the baton, continuing the restoration.
In 1959 the gardens were opened to the general public and by 1962 the buildings became habitable. There aren’t that many rooms inside to visit and to be honest this isn’t like visiting the likes of Uppark, Arundel Castle or Windsor Castle. Where the rooms are stuffed with pictures and furniture.
You have to remember the origins of the château, as first and foremost a private residence, that has only recently become a charitable institution. And then there is the major catastrophe that struck on the night of 30th August, 1968 when a fire destroyed the building with the exception of the wings. Baronne de Bastard decided to rebuild and that restoration continues to this day, albeit under the management of a charitable foundation.
We thoroughly enjoyed our visit and would recommend others to take the time to tour both the château and the village.
The plan was to travel to Argentat and, with detours en route, other towns and villages. Like I said, that was the plan and it remained the plan for about an hour.
The first detour was to a place called Belvedere de Gratte-Bruyere. Shown on our maps to be a view-point. The satnag refused to acknowledge that any such place existed. Luckily I had already spotted a sign in the centre of Serandon and so off we set.
The weather was beautiful and sunny so driving down the ultra quiet French lanes was a pleasure. The sun shining through the over hanging branches creating dappled shadows. Down one such lane we were suddenly presented with a view of a typical Chateau. I would have loved to get a shot of the front but it was not accessible. So you’ll have to make do with a back view…
Mystery Chateau – near Serandon, France
A short drive further on and we arrived at the Belvedere de Gratte-Bruyere which gives spectacular views along the “Haute Vallee de la Dordogne”.
Belvedere de Gratte-Bruyere
View from Belvedere de Gratte-Bruyere
View from Belvedere de Gratte-Bruyere
Standing up there was like being in an eagles eyrie, like you are on top of the world. Very, very quiet, but for the movement of the air through the trees and the ever-present twittering of the birds.
Beautiful !!!
Continuing on towards Argentat our route took us down alongside the Dordogne and, a short distance from the belvedere, we came across a large upright rock formation …
Rocher Louis XVI
So far I have not been able to find anything about the significance of this rock.
Driving as slowly as we were, with the windows open, you become aware of the many streams noisily tumbling down the sides of the gorges. One was large enough to warrant its own pull in and picnic tables ….
Falls – Dordogne, France
Very pretty, with the dappled shadows from the trees. We met some ramblers here, their two dogs were very pleased to drink from these chilly waters.
Having descended to the bottom of the gorge it was time to cross the Dordogne. The French Government had kindly placed a bridge at the end of the road, to ease our crossing ….
Pont des Ajustant – Dordogne, France
Although we were in the Dordogne Valley, the piece of water that this bridge crosses is in fact “La Triouzoune”.
According to Wikipedia “The Triouzoune is a 50.5 km long river in the Corrèze département, south-central France. Its source is on the Plateau de Millevaches”
Having crossed the bridge we were soon climbing up the sides of the gorge which continually presented photo opportunities along with chances for Gerry to show me how brave she is …..
Photo Opportunity – Not sure who for thoughGorge-side Road – Dordogne, France
Soon we were crossing the water again, this time the Dordogne via the “Pont Saint Projet”. A suspension bridge, which has a span of 195 meters and was built in 1945, following the creation of a dam some 5 km downstream from the bridge. More about the dam later.
Pont Saint Projet – Dordgne, France
Apparently, below the bridge, swallowed by the newly formed lake is the village of Saint-Projet-le-Desert and also the fifteenth century convent Saint-Projet.
Climbing, once again, we burst out of the gorge into open fields and farmland and soon found ourselves in the village of Chalvignac. Very pretty but, as we arrived, under attack from a large contingent of school children. You’ll be pleased to know that French school children can make just as much noise as school children everywhere. Quite a contrast from the tranquility we had just been experiencing down in the gorge.
A few kilometers down the road and we found ourselves on top of Le Barrage De L’Aigle (Eagle Dam), the reason that the village of Saint-Projet-le-Desert found itself under water.
View downstream from Le Barrage de L’Aigle
Le Barrage de L’Aigle
The outflow – Le Barrage de L’Aigle
Le Barrage de L’Aigle
Aynes – Below Le Barrage de L’Aigle
Built between 1940 and 1945, the dam created a lake, 16 miles in length. Three villages, La Nau, St Projet and Nauzenac, situated on the banks of the river, were all drowned. In Nauzenac, two inhabitants, who didn’t want to leave their house, were drowned by an exceptional flood during the night of the 7th of December 1944.
Apparently, the formal name of the dam, originates from a rock situated downhill from the dam. Needless to say we did not spot the rock.
Alternatively, the dam is called “the dam of the Resistance”, because it was used as a refuge for the maquis.
Maquis (World War II) – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Some workers were involved both in the maquis and in the construction of the dam. These “workers” employed delaying tactics to the works so that the dam couldn’t be of benefit to the Germans.
On the downstream side of the dam there is a park with information boards and picnic tables, nice of the authorities to provide such a beautiful vantage point from which to relax and enjoy the view.
On the road again we stopped for a quick photo looking back up the gorge, towards the dam, looking over the village of Aynes.
Looking up the gorge, towards Le Barrage De L’Aigle, looking over the village of Aynes
Pretty as the village is, I don’t think I could live so close below such a structure.
At the beginning of this post I said that our original plan was to visit Argentat. We had set out around 10:00 and by now it was after 14:00 and we started to think about lunch. Of course many country eateries close their kitchens for the afternoon, only opening again for the evening trade. And so we found ourselves in Saint-Privat at “La Belle Epoque”.
La Belle Epoque – Saint-Privat
Due to our time of arrival,l we were informed that the kitchen was closed. However, they could still provide us with the “plat du jour”, which on the face of it sounded OK. A starter of Eggs Mayonnaise, a main of Sausage with cheesy mashed potatoes (so we thought) and a pudding of pannacotta.
The eggs mayonnaise were fine, not much to mess up there. The sausage and cheesy mash turned out to be sausage laid on a bed of cauliflower cheese with a sprinkling of fried mushroom slices. The oily juice from the mushroom frying was running around the edge of the cauliflower pile. It would have been OK if the sausage had been freshly cooked, but I suspect that it had been reheated in a microwave. Not an impressive meal. Gerry didn’t eat all of her main course and, of course, none of the panacotta. As it happens the panacotta was also OK.
I guess, as I previously mentioned, due to our timing, beggars can’t be choosers. Personally, I think I would have rather gone to a supermarket and bought bread and cheese. Lesson learnt, eat earlier or take a picnic.
We did, eventually, reach Argentat and very pretty it looks too. However, due to our meandering we didn’t feel we could do it justice and have earmarked it for a dedicated visit during the next two weeks.
As we were leaving Argentat we spotted this Chateau, which must have one of the most idyllic settings one could wish for.
The Chateau du Gibanel
This place is now operating as a four star holiday site with provisions for camping, mobile homes or apartments.
Still travelling back towards the gite, our route took us through the village of Saint-Martin-la-Méanne whose church has an unusual tower.
Saint-Martin-la-Méanne
The village takes its name from its geographical position between two rivers, the Dordogne to the east, the Doustre to the west and a plateau of lakes and ponds in the North.One last photo from our grand tour. Not sure where it was but it needed to be recorded for posterity, whatever that is.
Bridge – Dordogne, France
So, our day did not go as planned but turned out to be very pleasant. Even though the food at La Belle Epoque could have been so much better, it did not spoil the day. It was nice to be able to tour around on such quiet country roads, taking our time and stopping as and when the fancy took us.
It is the peaceful environment that attracts us to rural France. Long may it stay that way.
Yesterday we ventured away from Serandon, took ourselves over to Tulle. Tulle is the capital of the Corrèze département in the Limousin region in central France.
For the drive across to Tulle the satnag offered us the choice of going via toll roads, or not. We chose not. The route was very pretty but, as expected, followed mainly minor roads as it cut across the gorges. We soon felt as if we were on an alpine rally as we negotiated hair-pin after hairpin, and as we climbed up to a peak before dropping down the other side to cross a busy stream.
En-route we passed the ruined fortress of Ventadour, sitting on a rocky promontory that we were negotiating our way round.
Chateau de Ventadour
We will have to make a separate trip to visit this site.
We arrived in Tulle whereupon the satnag, having been programmed for the town centre, had another hissy fit and guided us through the centre, up and out the other side before claiming we had reached our destination. Assuming that we needed to be at the lowest point I ignored the satnag and we eventually parked, for free, right across from the cathedral.
For the uninitiated, Tulle is sometimes known as “the town on the seven hills”. And those hillsides are very steep and every spare space is crammed with houses and businesses. It must make for some very desirable real estate but it also makes for many steep and winding roads.
Tulle was, historically, an important centre for lace production. It is the town where tulle, the finely woven material, often used for wedding veils, was invented.
Having parked up, and knowing the French penchant for towing vehicles, I enquired in the local pharmacy about parking fees. She informed me that for two, or maybe three, hours around lunchtime the parking was free. Certainly the parking ticket machines seemed to be in agreement. Both of the nearby machines were displaying “hors service” which translates to out-of-order.
Since it was lunchtime, we decided to eat at L’Abbaye. Still unsure about the parking I asked the waiter. He pointed to the ticket machines and when I explained that they were both out-of-order, he shrugged his shoulders and said “then it is free”.
L’Abbaye – Where we had lunch
We had a very nice lunch, both choosing burgers which is an unusual choice for Gerry. She chose the “Classique” which boasted a hache steak made from Limousin beef with tomatoes and onions. I had the “Auvergne” which also comprised the afore-mentioned hache steak, but with Bleu d’Auvergne, one of my favourite cheeses. All washed down with a glass of biere pression (draft beer). Very nice.
While eating we had noticed two guys working on the ticket machines and, still nervous about the parking, we wandered over to check the machines again. Still out-of-order, so we set out to explore Tulle.
One of the items, on our list, to visit was the Cloister Museum at the base of the museum. Unfortunately, it was shut.
Cloister Museum – Tulle
Cloister Museum – Tulle
According to the sign it was to open at 14:00, however at 14:15 there was no sign of it opening so I took a couple of shots through the bars of the iron gate and we moved on.
We opted not to venture inside the cathedral,
Tulle Cathedral (Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Tulle)
preferring to stay outside in the sunshine. Literally, just around the corner from the cathedral entrance is Maison Loyac.
Maison Loyac – Tulle
Dating from the 16th century it is decorated with sculpted motifs of plants, animals and occasionally figures in compromising positions. So says our guide anyway. See if you can spot them.
While in Tulle we raided the local tourist information office, lifted a few leaflets to give us some ideas for future days out.
Municipal Theatre – Called th Theatre des Sept Collines, Built 1899
Another item on the list is the Municipal Theatre, also known as Theatre des Sept Collines (The Theatre of Seven Hills). It was built in 1899 and, although built of reinforced concrete, it has a beautiful facade decorated with enameled sandstone, busts and medallions in glazed plaster.
Medallion, Municipal Theatre – Tulle
Mooching around on a warm summers day can develop a thirst, so we felt the need to stop for refreshments. Our chosen establishment, La Taverne du Sommelier. One beer and a coke later we were on our way meandering around Tulle.
A few more photo’s taken ….
Narrow street – Tulle
Tulle – General view across from the Cathedral
School – Tulle
La Correze – The river runs through the centre of Tulle
Tulle
Narrow street – Tulle
…. and it was time to head back to the gite. A short detour into a boulangerie for a fresh loaf and we were on the road again.
Since we arrived in Serandon the local forecast has been threatening us with thunder storms and rain. Well it finally delivered the rain part of that deal, and made the first fifteen minutes of our journey unpleasant. As we travelled further east the rain disappeared and the skies brightened.
The evening back at the gite was very pleasant and I found myself watching the mists develop down in the gorges. Of course I had to go and take some, well quite a lot of, photographs. I’ve included a couple below ….
Mist forming in the gorges – Viewed from Serandon
Mist forming in the gorges – Viewed from Serandon
Mist forming in the gorges – Viewed from Serandon
Mist forming in the gorges – Viewed from Serandon
The shape and volume of the mist changes by the second and I could have stood there for ages. Well, actually, I did. I had to force myself to stop taking pictures, of the mist anyway.
Here are a couple of other shots taken while I was being mesmerised ….
Parsley family, I think ?
Escargot – Aerial Attack Variant
Escargot – Ground Attack Variant
Rose
Later this same evening the mists thickened until we were totally fog bound. The only reason I could see my car was that there was a street light right by it.
Today, Sunday, was designated a no drive day. Not quite a duvet day as we were both up and dressed. Not even a pottering day since we are not in our own home.
A bit of toast with a cup, or two, of coffee. Meandering around the gite and grounds, a bit of blogging and a sunday roast.
Blogging and /or checking in via Facebook has proven to be problematical. We haven’t had any WiFi and mobile signals have been very much touch and go. Back home I am on Vodafone but here in France my mobi switches providers, seemingly by the hour. Randomly connecting to Orange F, F Bouygues and F SFR. All with very little signal strength.
Still, we chose to come to a remote gite, so no complaining from me.
Gerry was happy for us to be home based as she wanted to watch the tennis. Andy Murray vs Novak Djokovic in the French Open Final. That left me to cook the dinner and potter around with my camera.
So,first of all, here is the gite ……
Gite, Serandon, France
It is perfect for our needs.Bedroom, bathroom and kitchen on the ground floor. Two steps up from the kitchen to the living / dining space. There is also a second bedroom and lounge area, up on the mezzanine, which we are using to store our suitcases.
On the other side of the gite there is a nice terrace with table and chairs and a stone built BBQ. The terrace has a triangular canvas wing to provide shade along with the grape vines and the Wisteria.
View East from the Gite, Serandon, France
The gite is surrounded by fields and forest. The photo above shows the view to the east, where the sun rises and also where a storm was rolling in from on Saturday afternoon. Although the thunder rumbled we only received a few spots of rain.
Flowers – Gite, Serandon, France
There are some lovely flowers around the grounds. These lilies greet us by the door to the lounge. There are some beautiful roses under the kitchen window with a lovely scent.
Of course, lovely scents attract flies and bees and other beasties. This fellow decided to take up residence. Unfortunately, for him, I was prepared.
Wasp ?
He was like a British Wasp on steroids and I have since discovered that there are many more like him around here.
After our roast dinner I left Gerry watching the tennis and went for a walk down the lanes in front of the gite.
Weather Vane
The following were all encountered on my gentle stroll down from the gite into the forest.
Of course I forgot that what walks down has to eventually walk back up. The route into the forest got steadily steeper. When I eventually turned about, I had a twenty-minute steady climb back up to level ground. It was very nice, what with the birds singing away, their calls echoing though the trees.
Even better was the glass of Pelforth Blonde waiting for me in the fridge. A fitting end to a good day.
Unfortunately not so good for Gerry. Andy Murray lost !!
We got up to find the winds had decreased but it was raining hard. The view out to sea was somewhat diminished due to fog.
Gerry had mentioned hearing a fog horn during the night.
We didn’t hang around for breakfast even though we had booked it. The overpowering smell of stale multi-cooked grease, noted during check in the evening before, had displaced any potential hunger pangs we might have had.
Feeling we had escaped a fate worse than death, we set off into deepest, darkest, France.
Brunch was had at La Croissanterie, near Charles Degaul Airport. We had hoped for a hot meal but it was either filled baguettes or hot dogs from the mobile eatery outside. Continuing our journey, all went well until we got to Paris. The weather had improved, well the rain had stopped, but it was generally dark and overcast.
We were making our way around the peripherique, which, for those who don’t know it, is always a bit of a challenge. Anyway we were making good progress when we saw signs indicating that we were going to be booted off our route.
No problemo thought I, having recently updated the satnag. It will know how to get us out via an alternative route.
Not so. It seems it was as confused as I was. After passing through the same tunnel for the third time and having to make some fairly dodgy turns, in very heavy traffic, I decided we had to force the satnag to recalculate without considering the peripherique.
Heading out towards Versailles, the satnag eventually got its act together and we were on our way again. This brief moment of madness had cost us approximately an hour due to the typically heavy parisien traffic. At one time we were driving alongside the Seine. The water level was nearly at the same level as the road showing just how dire the situation is in the city at this time.
Eventually we found ourselves back on an autoroute, hoping to regain some of the lost time. Unfortunately, the satnag informed us that there was a twenty eight minute delay ahead on our route. We elected to find an alternative route and the satnag took us off the autoroute for Artenay. Once again we fell foul of road closures due to flooding. And once again the satnag had a hissy fit, even sending us into a forest, down a road quite clearly marked as a dead end. We passed houses being pumped out and even encountered a car up to its windscreen in flood waters. Resorting to good old fashioned paper maps, I managed to get us back on track. The time wasted meant we should have stayed on the autoroute and made do with the twenty eight minute delay. Ce la vie.
At last we made it to Orleans. This was not according to plan, which had us being nearer to Bourges. But it wasn’t to be.
We set the satnag a new challenge. Find us a hotel. Unfortunately, Orleans has changed since we were last there, it is much, much busier and, although the satnag offered many possible hotels in the centre of town, there is nowhere to park. Not even room to double park for a short while and I don’t remember the trolley busses which have priority. We did see the “maid”, Joan of Arc, sat up on her horse and caught a glimpse of the cathedral.
We decided to head to the outskirts and try again. As we found ourselves alongside the Loire river, we struck lucky and spotted a hotel with parking outside. On investigation it transpired that they had a room and off road parking. The Escale Oceania
View from our room at Hotel Escale OceaniaVin Rouge (Coteaux Languedoc) consumed at Le Barentin, Orleans
proved to be a very comfortable place to stay and, at €87 room and breakfast, good value. No restaurant on site for dinner, however, the concierge recommended a place just five minutes walk away.
Le Barentin has a nice atmosphere, friendly staff and, most important, good food. Gerry and I shared a bottle of red (Coteaux Languedoc)
but I also had a beer (Pelforth Brune). This ensured that we both slept well. Not even a Calais style gale was going to wake us.
The title says it all really. We set off, from Waterlooville, yesterday afternoon. We had plenty of time and stopped off at Maidstone services for a bite to eat before continuing on to the Euro Shuttle. We were approximately an hour early but they transferred us to an earlier train. At no charge!!
As the train was boarding in a few minutes we drove straight round, no duty free shopping.
Arriving at the police checkpoint, the cop closed his window, got up and left. Was it something I said? I drove forward to the next window where a rather dishevelled guy gave a perfunctory glance at our passports and pointed us to an area where we and three other vehicles were corralled and told to turn off our engines. Just a routine check we were told.
Then a uniformed person, no idea what sex, looking to be about twelve years of age, asked if the vehicle was mine, reached in and wiped the steering wheel and part of the dash.
As far as car valeting goes… well let’s say they missed a lot.
Another uniform, wearing white gloves, passed along the cars, running his hands along door handles and boot release buttons.
This bothered me a bit. Since he didn’t change gloves for each vehicle, what if there was some kind of cross contamination? Would I find myself surrounded, by a gun toting swat team, because of the BMW driving drug smuggler in front?
I needn’t have worried. A few minutes later the barrier was lifted, by the sexless twelve-year-old uniform, and we were on our way again. Well, on our way to the French passport control. They gave our passports even less of a glimpse than their English counterpart and we were ushered through. The waiting area was empty, so we literally drove straight thru and were ushered onto the shuttle.
Boarding the shuttle always elicits the same comment as you drive along inside the metallic tube, “Are we driving all the way to France?”
This time there was an additional comment, contributed by the satnag, which having lost contact with all satellites, sagely advised that “there was still a three minute delay on our route” and “that we were still on the fastest route to our destination”. No shit sherlock!!
A few minutes later and the train pulled out. Bye bye England.
Arriving in France, we were soon driving off the shuttle and, on this occasion, heading into Calais.
Well that was our plan. The satnag had another. We, being strangers in a strange land, followed instructions blindly. And found ourselves, on exiting a roundabout, heading back in shuttle world and heading back to the UK. Or so the signs seemed to indicate.
Anyway, we spotted a sign “Sortie / Exit” and we were quickly back in the outside world, following another Brit. Their satnag must have been having a similar hissy fit. Good old TomTom.
Momentarily, Gerry and I broke into song, “I was lost in France”
The satnag, for a few minutes decided we had gone off piste but did eventually catch up with reality and guided us the five miles or so to our hotel for the night.
The Hotel de la Plage is exactly what it says it is. The hotel on the beach. We were given a room with a sea view. Far superior to that famous hotel room in Fawlty Towers, but still no herds of wildebeest. But in many ways just as worn and tired.
Did I mention the weather? Calais is currently being battered by gale force winds, blasting in off La Manche, the “English Channel”.
And that is why, at 04:52, I am posting this. The wind is howling like an express train, the windows are covered with salt spray and I can’t sleep.
Feeling chuffed with myself due to some recognition that I have received over the last few days for photos that I posted on the Photography Cafe website.
I thought I would post the photos here for your perusal ….
Eighth day of our vacation based at the La Porcherie gite. I think we are getting into the swing of this holiday lark.
Yet another nice day, weatherwise so we decided to go explore Landes Pierre du Mas.
Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
Once again the pond impressed with its quiet beauty.
Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
It’s refreshing to be able to visit such places and to have them to yourself.
Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
Not just the tranquility of the pond and the paths around its perimeter but also the beauty of the heather illuminating the mound.
Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
Just a few feet of elevation makes all the difference and changes your perspectives.
Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
There were many brightly coloured lizards here, but they were much to fast for me to photograph, so you will just have to take my word for it.
Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
Even the lichens and moss, covering the rocks, has an inherent beauty. Providing a subdued contrast to the vibrant floral display of the heather.
Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
We had taken some stale bread to the pond, hoping to entice the fish to put in an appearance. We were out of luck, the suitably softened crusts floated across the pond, driven by the gentle afternoon breeze. Apparently of no interest to the fish. However, it did prove to be attractive to a large crow who performed some impressive aerobatics and a fair emulation of a fish eagle plucking soggy bread from the surface of the pond.
Crafty crow plucking bread from the surface of the pond – Pierres du Mas, Limousin, France
The fresh air and exercise set us up nicely for the BBQ planned for our evening meal. The only fly in that particular ointment was the bottle of wine that we opened to wash it down. It was so decidedly bad that I tipped it away, the only bad wine of the whole holiday.
WrAnTz 