We finally tear ourselves away from the
Gorge. Every excuse to stay longer has been exhausted, including waiting for e
mails from any opportunities that are bubbling along. Nothing will happen now
until next week, so we must leave. After a final shower in the darkest toilet
block ever we go for a rocket fuel coffee in the hotel (yes, we paid Mr Beardy)
and leave.
Our route takes us initially though the
Verdon National Park. High rocky crags with dense woodland right down to the
meandering road. We occasionally come across a lone hunting hound trotting down
the road, obviously split from the pack, but making his way back home. Despite
the hilly terrain, Onzo seems to be revelling in the cool morning air and we
breeze up hills where once we may have dawdled and we eat up the miles. Our
plan (if you can call it that) is to get to the main N road and begin to head
north. Vaguely in the direction of Lyons, avoiding the Massif Central for
obvious reasons and then head towards Vichy. Our plans are notoriously vague,
but bearing in mind our appointments, heading north seems sensible.
The first part of the journey takes us
through idyllic provincial towns, crumbling shuttered houses, various colourful
plants creeping up walls and people drinking Pastis with the paper outside
cafes at 10am. Civilised indeed. At this point we are way out in the countryside but soon we emerge
onto the N7 and the road to Aix en Provence. This was to be an intended stop
but the sheer volume of queuing traffic and the contrast from the peace of the
lake forces the decision to continue. If we don’t make an effort to leave the
South of France we may never get away. Onwards is the call.
Avignon comes and goes as we motor on. One
small hindrance to the journey is the wind. It is blowing near gale force and
actually rocking van quite alarmingly. We’d read about the winds of the Provence
and wonder if this is related to the Mistral or Sirocco. It is quite a strange
to have such a clear blue hot day and such a strong almost violent wind. (Much
laughter in the van as you can imagine!)
Buffeted
here and there, (mostly across to oncoming traffic) we enter the region famous for
Chateau Neuf du Pape. Noush has (not surprisingly) spotted a potential campsite
near to one of the vineyards; it actually mentions this in the directions. It
seems like a good idea, but dangers lurk. Namely extreme over indulgence (guaranteed)
and significant damage to the budget. The two go hand in hand so reluctantly we
drive past. (Protruding bottom lip from Noush for a km or two). As an aside to
FCTVs do note that the Aire in Maucoil is NOT in Orange, it’s South in ChateauNeuf du Pape. Grr to the book
what lies. Pout.
To
make up for the disappointment of missing out on some of the finest wine available
we stop for a quick libation in Senas. Nothing quite as grand as the red
velvet, but a local Pression. Seems to do the job though as smiles return all
round.
Refreshed,
we get back on the road again and resume our search for a place to stop for the
night. An alarming moment passes when we
see signs for the Arc de Triomphe, surely we can’t have got that lost again,
not even us??!!
Isn't this supposed to be in Paris? What does it all mean?!
We
pass through a small medieval town called Mornas, overlooked by a castle that
is perched high on a crag above the village.
Preparations
are afoot for the annual medieval festival which takes place on the Sunday. On
our walk through the small main street bales of hay are being placed
strategically with what looks like jousting equipment being assembled! A few
Pastis down the road this could be an interesting spectacle! Unsurprisingly
there is no hint of a high vis jacket or anything remotely approaching Elf un Safety!
A quick look on the internet reveals
that tomorrow there will be troubadours, jousting, medieval food, you name it. This
is one serious medieval festival! The town is pretty and sweet, but parking is
limited because of festivities so we push on past towards Camping Beauregard –
a sign for which we spotted just before Mornas.
The
campsite turns out to be about five times bigger than Mornas and is like Centre
Parcs on steroids: it’s vast! There are permanent mobile home thingies,
chalets, a bar, restaurant, a shop, an aqua park…you name it this place has it.
We decide to stay, it’s only €17 and we can mess around in the pool, do
internet type things and generally re-charge. The downside to this place is
that it’s winding down to closing for the winter and so nothing actually works.
You can’t get in or out because the computers that run the barriers are
busticated, the bar has run out of pretty much everything, the shop is closed
and the swimming pool is totally inaccessible due to mind bogglingly
over-complicated child lock gate that neither of us can open (school for the
gifted??!). It’s slightly tricky to even
sit and relax because the flies are just awful. Every conversation is
punctuated by unpredictable spasms and twitches and general swatting to try and
keep the damn things off. We have a supper enorme and are in bed by 9pm. Rock
and roll we ain’t!