In which the rain does not stay on the plain in Spain

The rain was still coming down in wave after wave over the socked-in mountains, and the forecast offeres no hope of a break until maybe tomorrow afternoon! We holed up in the house with photos and quilting, books and knitting, blogging and chatting to occupy the time. Alan has been in a cooking mood as he made us yummy lentil-rice patties last night, a bean soup for lunch, and curried potato crepes and sweet crepes for supper!

Speaking of food, our only real venture out was in the afternoon to try and go to the grocery store. Mom also wanted to try and get the few things in Apt that we had missed on Thursday, but a rainy Sunday afternoon was even deader than a Thursday lunch! Not a single shop was open except one café, and we didn’t see a single person. We fared no better as all the grocery stores were closed. We even drove to Coustellet to try the store there, but struck out again. The French take time off seriously! But it was very pretty driving around, as the fall colors are really lovely and cloudy weather actually shows them off better than sunny days.

The whole valley

Our neighbors say that this year is unusually colorful.
We lucked out!

Unwilling to let the outing be a total waste, we came up with an un-store related mini-excursion on the way home. Where we turn off of the D900 (the main road just to our north that runs east to west, which is still only two lanes and half the time you are on it you get stuck behind a tractor. The roads back home are going to feel enormous!) onto the little D106 (the one and a half lane road that is the norm for most roads – no center stripe, lots of curves, and thankfully not much traffic) to come to Lacoste, there is also a sign for Chapelle St-Verrran. It is not listed in any of our guidebooks, and we had finally spotted the little sign indicating where to turn off onto an even smaller road (yep, it may only look like it is one car wide but it is still a two-way street!) that presumable led to the chapel. In search of a little adventure to add to our rainy day, we turned off and wiggled our way past a few houses and on to a dirt track leading past vineyards and woods. Everything way soggy and running with water, and we were about to turn back except Alan didn’t want to pull onto the grass to turn around because the ground was so soft we might get stuck. Just ahead we saw a small pull-off with some gravel that he could use to maneuver, but when we reached it we realized that that was the parking spot for the chapel!

At first Alan was going to stay in the car as the rain had picked up again, but the woods sheltered the chapel some, and really while he is sweet he decided he wouldn’t melt. Mom and I were already walking around the small building, which was simple but beautiful in the way only small chapels stuck in out-of-the-way spots can be. We didn’t stay long, but continued on home satisfied with having discovered another hidden gem of Provence.

Our trusty little car in with the colorful vines

Mom reading the chapel's sign (in French, of course!)

Rain, rain, go away

The Camargue bulls

 We woke up to stormy weather, and while it hadn’t actually started raining yet we knew it would. We’d been hoping the 60% chance of rain was wrong, but it looked like we would just get to see a few things before heading home. After checking out of the hotel and packing the salt-covered car, we headed up around the bays and marshes that make up the reserve and back down to the sea again to reach the salt pans with their industrial town of Salin-de-Giraud. The town was very different from other towns, but then the salt companies originally made it for the workers. Brick (brick! I haven’t seen any since we got here!) row houses with random gingerbread trim were an odd sight to our eyes.

We were the only people in the parking lot overlooking the pans and a huge salt heap, which had all sorts of equipment, including a bulldozer driving around on top of the salt. Not the most appetizing thing to think about… The wind was absolutely howling. We could hardly walk, and I found it hard to breath when facing into the wind!

Not sure why the salt off to the right is pink?

 We drove down to the very edge of the sea, but the wind was blowing so hard that we didn’t stay long. Some kite surfers drove up as we were leaving and later we saw their kite from a distance, but I don’t know how they kept from being blown to Africa!

Just a little ways back from the shore we made our only real stop of the day at the Domaine de la Palissade, an area outside the sea walls and dikes that is allowed to flood and behave as the Camargue would naturally. The rain had started, but we decide to walk the shortest one-mile loop anyway. We saw some of the birds we saw yesterday, and one of the black kites that we saw in an enclosure (there is a photo of it in yesterday’s blog).

The Rhone river

We stopped back at the entrance to look at the horses tied up and waiting probably in vain for a rider all day. The rain was getting harder, so we decided to get back in the car and drive to a scenic spot where we could eat lunch in the car. There was a road marked red on our map that ran out along the dykes and made a loop back up to the paved road we wanted to be on to leave, so we headed through the town to see if we were even allowed to drive on those roads or not (red according to the map legend was restricted). We had made it almost to the fork where you could chose the paved road up or the red loop when the paved road we were on deteriorated into a dirt road with huge dips with puddles in the bottom. Mom didn’t want to go on, but we would have to back track a long ways to get around it and we could see the signs for the road split ahead. Alan said he thought it was fine so we continued on. The red road at the split was in considerably better shape than the bit of road we had just been on, so we decided to take it. It was a lonely, rainy, windswept scene of rocks and marsh and sea all around us. Our map wasn’t really detailed enough to track all the twists and turns, so at one split we finally stopped for lunch. We hadn’t really seen any other cars before, but as we were eating a couple drove by in each direction. Mom said that the road was getting too rough and made us turn around, so we went back to the paved road.

Along the road - someone spent a lot of time
putting rocks on posts!

Last night on our way to supper Alan and I had spotted a sign for an exhibition of nature inspired furniture (the poster showed a really neat chair made from the stump/trunk of a tree) in the Chateau d’Avignon, which was just a little ways back down the road to Ste-Maries-de-la-Mer. Since it was really raining now and we decided to go see the show before heading home. We pulled up to the gate only to see another car parked there, talking to a security guard. A sign in the gate said “Fermé” (closed) but we had checked the hours and knew it should be open. So Mom hopped out to ask what was happening, and got the very odd reply that the chateau was closed due to the wind. What?! We want to go inside a museum but can’t because it is windy outside?? It didn’t make any sense. Oh well.

We headed home, a little saddened by our unsuccessful day. Going to another abbey that I do want to see before we leave was tossed around as we seemed to leaving the rain behind as we got closer to home. But the clouds didn’t look like they’d hold back for long, and sure enough as we were carrying our bags up from the car the rain really started coming down again.

The fireplace at home had been tempting us for some time, so in honor of a cold, rainy, gray day we had a lovely fire to warm us and cheer us up for the rest of the evening.

La Camargue

Bags were packed, we were out the door, the old potter at the end of our tiny alley wished me and my suitcase “Bon voyage,” and we were off to La Camargue for a two-day visit. The reserve covers 328 sq miles of salt marshes, birds, wild horses, and wild bulls in the Rhone delta at the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. Salt flats occupy areas close to the sea, making and selling a variety of salt from the average to the gourmet. Other areas have been cultivated for farmland, while some of the land has been left in its natural state. When Mom first visited the area when she went to school in France they didn’t walk around the area much as the bulls are wild and dangerous; today, however, they are all fenced in, though this hasn’t improved their tempers and most are raised and sent to the bullfighting arenas.

Some of the horses still run wild, retaining their distinct breed that has lasted through the ages. Born brown, like the famous Lipizzaner stallions, they turn white at around age four or five. Many are also tamed and used for the “promenade aux chevaux” (horseback rides) through the Camargue. I wanted to go on a ride, but no one would go with me, Mom having always stayed as far away from horses as possible with a horseback-riding daughter, and Dad said he turned over his “someone has to go with her” responsibilities to Alan. Alan has never been on a horse (shocking! I know) and said that he would like to at least be able to communicate with the person in charge if not the horse for his first time. I supposed I understand…

The only town and place to stay is Stes-Maries-de-la-Mer, an ocean town with a very Spanish flavor. We went their first, as with the holiday weekend we wanted to make sure we got a room before exploring. It was only about a hour and a half drive from Lacoste, and we got two of the four rooms left at the hotel recommended by Alan’s professor. The town is at the bottom western end of the arch that makes up the reserve, so we headed back up the way we had come to stop first at the park information center and plan our day.

The park information center is right next to the Park Ornithologique; however, we had trouble finding the building until we realized that it was all boarded up! Every guidebook said to stop there first, and we have current guidebooks, so I don’t know what happened. But since we were there, we decided to just go into the bird sanctuary. And it was wonderful! They have some birds in cages with signs and information, as well as bird feeders and open areas with trails. The bird population here changes seasonally, but with 400 species to choose from (160 of which are migratory) there is a lot to see! Pink flamingos really steal the show; they come here in the thousands in the spring, but we were quite satisfied with the hundreds we saw. Boy, are they noisy!

They have a version of the great blue heron, which were very pretty as well. Ducks abounded, and we got to see some nutria (little muskrat-like animals) as well as a beaver. Swans, egrets and ibis rounded out the bird families, although there were lots of little birds flitting about. We ate our picnic lunch next to a flock of flamingos before finishing the 7 km walk.

By the time we finished exploring this, our first stop, we had run out of time to get to the other walking areas we had picked out. So we headed back to town along another smaller road which lead us along the sea. As we got close to town, we could see kite surfers out in the water. Alan still is looking for some photos for his outdoor lifestyle and culture categories, so we stopped to watch. The wind was still blowing very hard, and some of the kite surfers were flying 25 feet in the air. We walked along the beach for a ways, Mom and I picking up shells and rocks. I spotted a snake in the sand, which was rather startling and scary. It hardly moved, as I am sure it was cold, but still is not something I want to see on the beach!

After moving our things into the hotel, we walked around town. According to legend, the town is built on the spot where a boat, set adrift by the Jews without any oars or sail, landed with a boat-load of people: Mary, the mother of James, Mary Magdalene, Martha and her brother Lazarus, St. Maximinus, Mary Salome, the mother of James Major and John, and Cedonius, the man born blind. Sara, the black slave of the two Marys, was left behind but wept till Mary Salome threw her mantle out over the water, allowing Sara to come join the rest of them in the boat. After landing, everyone else went their separate ways, but the two Marys and Sara stayed here till they died. The gypsies come here in pilgrimage every year; they revere St. Sara. The church is fortified and contains relics of St Sara, as well as the boat in which everyone arrived.

We picked out a Spanish restaurant to eat in, and it was going to have live flamenco music; however, after sitting down we asked about their two vegetarian dishes only to be told they both had chicken broth as a base. So we left in search of our stand-by vegetarian option–pizza. The next restaurant had lovely décor, and I really wanted to take home the bottle they used for water! But everyone talked me out of it, and I am a little worried about getting everything in our suitcases to come home. I guess I’ll just have to look at the photo!

St-Saturnin-lés-Apt

Yesterday at Les Baux they had an aerial video of ruins in the Provence region. We were pleased to see that we’d been to most everywhere they featured, but one that we hadn’t (although it was on our list) was St-Saturnin-lés-Apt. Having made no other plans for the morning, we set out to cross it off out list.

The chapel is all that is left of the ruins of a castle that covered another flat bit of hill with drop-offs on either side that this area seems to have so many of. The village nestles up to the base of the rock. I really enjoyed the church—it had a neat rostrum among other things. We walked through the town, past the castle ruins and up to the chapel (which is closed). The olives are ripening on the trees in the area, turning a lovely purple color on their way from green to black. On the way back down, we walked across the dam to the next little ridge and down to the old windmills. One was open so you could look up and see the gears and mechanics inside the building.

This dog really wanted to be friends - it looks like a tan French version of Kira!

Can you see the little black dog head peeking out of the foliage?

Mom had a few things she wanted to get in Apt, so we stopped there on our way home. Unfortunately it was noon, so shops were closing right and left, leaving the streets empty except for people hurrying home or sitting in cafes. The French take their two-hour lunch breaks seriously, and I am almost surprised that the waiters aren’t off at noon for their lunch as well! A city in the daylight with empty streets gives an odd feeling of emptiness, which is aided by the plane trees in town that have been trimmed for winter, leaving their bare knobby knuckles reaching for the sky. We left the city to its noontime rest and headed home for some lunch ourselves.

Les Baux, Gorges de Oppedette, and pizza!

Critiqued in the more opinionated guidebooks as being not worth a visit because of the number of tourists, not because the site was uninteresting, we decided to give Les Baux a chance. Built on top of a bare rock about 3,000 ft long and 650 ft wide with vertical ravines on either side, the town and castle were home to a contentious bunch of warlords who were always causing trouble. Finally in 1632 the castle and ramparts were demolished on the king’s orders, and the town was fined 100,000 livers plus the cost of the demolition!

Les Baux

It was a cold and windy day, but the town still boasted quite a few tourists. Most were families though, not tour buses, out for the long weekend (November 1st is a national French holiday, and all the school are out for two weeks). The town, completely rebuilt for tourists, is the first place we have been that felt fake-touristy to me. Every door was a shop, and there were none of your staple stores (baker, butcher, little grocery, etc.). Looking across from the town, the valley below is called Val d’Enfer, or Hell Valley—the rocks and caves were the inspiration for Dante’s Inferno. At the end of the town, we paid our entrance fee and received an audio guide to the castle and ramparts (although they had very nice signs in English as well as French, so we got to skip the audio guide for the most part).

The town, and the Val d'Enfer

I could immediately see why so many families had picked this spot for a vacation! The castle was full of fun things to look at and explore. One of the first things we came to were a group of siege weapons. One, run by women because all the men ran the even bigger machines, could fire up to once a minute. The biggest trebuchet could hurl a 308 lb object over 600 ft., but they could only fire about twice and hour.

Next we climbed up some extremely worn stairs up to the Tour Sarrasine—I could see how annoying if would be there were lots of tourists as the stairs were really only wide enough for one person at a time. The wind was blowing extremely hard, which made everything a bit more treacherous. After we climbed back down and we went to the base of the stairs going to the top of the donjon (or keep). A large sign was posted saying it was forbidden by law to climb up, the there was nothing blocking it off and they had installed handrails everywhere so we aren’t sure what they really meant.

Mom and the very worn steps

The steep roof is a battering ram

I'll give you a penny if you tell me
what the square holes in the rock are.
Give up? A dove cote!

We had packed a picnic lunch in case the weather was nice, but decided it was much to cold and windy. We picked a little restaurant in town, and Mom and I had a “crepe formula,” which meant we got a savory crepe + green salad + a sweet crepe. It was good! We’ve made crepes twice at home, but we’ve got to try to make them thinner as ours have come out about twice as thick as theirs. Our savory ones were stuffed with mushrooms and cheese, and for the sweet one I had almonds and honey in mine. Yum!

Crepe!

Alan went with his class to the Gorges of Oppedette. The town of Oppedette is another typical hillside village, but what he was more interested in climbing around the gorge. He and Elliot, another SCAD student, set out around one of the longer trails around the gorge in search of some bat caves. The trail was very rocky along the edge of the gorge, with lots of scrambling, handrails, and ladders. The river at the bottom of the gorge is La Calavon, with is the same one that runs through the valley to the north of Lacoste.

Elliot descends to the bat cave (but there were no bats).

Another hiker on the narrow trail

Wednesday night, if you remember, is the night the pizza man comes to town. We tried to get pizza last week, but he didn’t show up. We thought maybe he was done for the season, but Alan’s professor said that he always comes, and she was planning to get pizza herself tonight. So we decided to try again—unfortunately, so did all the rest of the SCAD students! We went down at 7 o’clock (like restaurants, the pizza guy doesn’t really arrive till then) to find a long line of students waiting for pizzas already. Apparently last week the oven was broken, but it was working hard tonight! An hour later found us still waiting, and at 8:20 pm I finally trotted off home with one pizza while Alan took our second one with him to his professor’s lecture on her current photographic work (which had started at 8:15, but he was not the last nor the only one with pizza!). Mom and Dad had given up and eaten some before I came home, but they made room for a few slices of the thin-crust, hot-out-of-the-back-of-a-van pizza.