A morning's roaming.

 

One fine early morning, last June, my husband decided that he was going to cycle through the gorge de Nesque .....and so my choice was for him to drop me off at the bottom of the valley near a little hilltop village called Goult in the Ventoux.

 From there I would walk back to the campsite where we were staying.

I would have liked to walk there and back (like my son Trystan and his girlfriend Leila did when they stayed with us in Provence) but the weather was so hot and I didn't think I could cope with the distance there and back in the heat.


An early morning start made sense, you see ?
So, we loaded the bike on the car and off we trundled.

  Philip dropped me off just after a roundabout at the bottom of the valley and I wended my way rather gingerly up the hill towards the village.

There are no pavements whatsoever in this part of the world and really there are no walker friendly verges even really - as there are rather deep ditches/trenches  immediately off the roadway.

So, whenever a car came (almost always at top speed) I sort of had to scramble and find a bit of safe ground to hover on while they sped me by !!



All a bit fraught for a middle aged biddy if two cars came at once as the road was single lane really. In fact I almost turned back at one stage simply out of fright as I really didn't relish falling into the ditches !!

Anyway I persevered and eventually reached the ancient washing area just outside the village, halfway up the hill.

Time for a pause and a breather while I took some photos.






This area was meant mainly for the itinerant workers who arrived to help with the harvests - first the fruit - cherries mainly and then with the grape harvest.

 There simply were not enough locals to cope with all this harvesting of abundance and water is a necessity for us all.

Even as a caravaner I know that fresh clean water is essential to a decent life, so in those olden times it would have been even more so.

Clean water for drinking and also clean water for washing yourself and your clothes. A must, and it was well provided.


I then made my way, puffing up the hilll to the village centre itself.
  We had been here several times before and done all the village sightseeing (another blog possibly), this time, I just wanted to buy a drink and a picnic to eat on the way back.


I found the village grocery shop (the only one in fact) and bought a couple of figs, a few slices of salami, a bottle of water and some bread. Enough for a petit dejuner on my return walk down hill. By now it was hotting up horrendously and I needed to find shade and sit down a while !!


My picnic spot was a bench on the way down the hill, and overlooked the cherry orchards where I could hear the pickers at work - full of merriment and jolly banter as they beavered away. They seemed incredibly noisy and happy despite the heat !!

Sadly the area was fenced off or I would have bought some of the cherries. I am not quite up to scrambling over ditches and fences anymore.

At the bottom of the hill I had a right turn to make and then was on the back road towards the campsite. Hopefully I would not be so bothered by the cars, and in fact only saw 3 cars the whole way back.

Bliss, I could walk in the middle of the road !!

To start with it was uphill again ( and very steeply too) but I kept turning round and taking photos and catching my breath while doing so.


It amazes me how they plant vines in even the smallest corner of land - we in the Uk seem to waste land in camparison.

Or, is it that we are so rich and comfortable that it is simply not worth our while making all the effort with cultivation when we can simply pop down the cop-op or Morrisons and buy a bottle of wine ?

I passed what seemed like acres of vineyards and eventually came to La Verriere.

This is the farm from which we have bought most of the wine we drank while in Provence. It is sold absolutely everywhere in the area and I think he doesn't export anything at all. It is now in it's fourth generation of cultivation and we quaffed it quite happily !!!

All these little farms are quite happy for you to have tastings as they actually produce several different types of wines depending on the variety of grape and the 'terroir' it is grown on.

All very technical and way above and beyond the knowledge I need to know what I like to drink.


It was interesting to see all the rosebushes at the end of the rows of vines - something to do with moulds and infestations of greenfly I gathered. They check the roses regularly and if there is any sign of whatever, they get busy spraying.


 Not quite sure how eco all that is really. Probably best not to ask.


Though we did find a bio wine at a local market - and he said he did not use sulphur to sterilize stuff and as an asthmatic this is v important.


  I almost died once when inhaling sulphur fumes (I was sterilizing bottles for some home brew Philip and I had made 30 odd years ago - and had to use sulphur dioxide).

 My lungs seized up and Philip had to carry me to the surgery !!

Lucky to be alive still really.


Anyway, I rambled on, getting thirstier and thirstier and hotter and hotter. My water bottle was well and truly empty by now.

 How anybody could be out walking and working in this heat beats me.

  I'd collapse pretty soon !!



I passed some wonderful gardens (I figured they were owned by expats - the style a bit of a giveaway and also the fact that they were as grand as they were compared to everything else around them !).

The french on the whole go in mostly for salads and veg and a few flowers here and there but not major landscaping like the rich english abroad.

The views towards Bonnieux were
a delight, we can actually see the village from the caravan but it is at night that it is glorious - all those twinklings, a sign of life being lived despite the darkness.

Eventually I find the hometrack - one I have walked many many times these last few weeks.

 Sadly it is uphill again but by now I know it is not far to go.

I love this stretch of land, passing a derelict cottage, vineyards by the acre and various houses on both sides whose gardens I love to peep into. One of which is having major works done - it turns out to be a swimming pool !!!


It was rather sad that he had to cut down a few trees to achieve the space but needs must I suppose, and Provence is not short of trees...

.and the sound of the ever present chainsaw - a caravaner's bane if ever there was one.

I trundle back into the campsite, straight into the shop and buy myself a refreshing drink.....

never was a low alcohol lager more delicious and benficial to a human being.....

phew, a good ramble and an even better getting back to camp.

Joy indeed.