From beach to mountains
Yesterday was a nightmare. Today has been refreshing.
Yesterday we decided to leave the beach at Norbonne. We had had one super day there, then the next day completely spoiled by the arrival of the Mistral – that terrible almost-gale-force hot wind that blows down from the north. I read somewhere that it was cited as a defence in a murder trial – the Mistral drove the person to the brink. I doubt that it was a successful defence, but it certainly has the power to get under one’s skin – along with the sand which was akin to being sand-blasted. Not a good feeling and the children quickly became disenchanted with the beach.
So we decided to press on – hoping to make a significant mileage while the wind did its thing. But it was not to be: almost as soon as we had started we ran into a traffic jam. Having been stuck in a jam at Antwerp for 7 hrs, we are a bit wary of these things – but we had no line of escape, and had to sit there and wait – and sweat. The temperature was hovering in the huigh 30’s so it was not comfortable. The jam resolved itself after about an hour – already our hoped of a good distance were shattered, but we pressed on hoping for the best.
But today was going to be ‘one of those days’. After a reasonably good run, although slow do to an awful lot of traffic, we came to a junction. My map-reading skills said we should turn right and so I advised driver 1 up front. I thought his GPS had failed to show him which way. Anyway, we turned, found ourselves in a narrow secondary road, and again we were back on to the end of another slow-moving procession.
Eventually this cleared and with a sigh of relief we picked up speed’ approaching the city of Montpelier, hours later than planned, but at least on the move again. The lead van slipped through a huge roundabout, directing us to take the 2nd exit. But as we reached the roundabout, the wail of police cars reached our ears and we paused to let the emergency car go through. But it wasn’t a car, it was a stream of police motorbikes. Ah, we thought, the President must be coming through. But no, 4 huge tour buses were following, and when they got into the roundabout they all ground to a stop.
The coaches were full of young people and at first I thought it must be the Tour de France teams or something like that. But then all the passengers started leaping out of the coaches with a great commotion. A police car wriggled up beside us and directed us to go off in another direction but of course we were wedged in by masses of jammed cars who by now were starting to honk there horns with impatience. The police officer was screaming into his car phone and was none too pleased when some of his colleagues appeared: first a motor bike rider who came roaring across the roundabout and launched himself off the high concrete curb in spectacular manner, He was immediately followed by a police van which launched itself in like manner – both cutting around the screaming officer who was presumably in charge of the ‘Incident’
Meanwhile the chanting mob from the coaches was making slow progress down the road, surrounded by police bikes and vans – but they were in no hurry.
As the chaos quieted down we were able to make slow progress behind them, finally catching up with our leader who had skillfully pulled into a handy parking lot to wait for us.
But as you can imagine – our schedule was completely wrecked, We pulled into a lay-by and had some dinner, then moved on a short distance and found a quit back street to bed down for the night. It had been a tiring day for all, but especially the drivers.
The next morning we set off to get to our planned destination of the day before. For the first hour or two we drove through very ordinary suburbia, with little of the charm of France in evidence. But as the day wore on, the country-side softened and developed some character. The vineyards re-appeared
tree-lined avenues abounded
the skies opened up into huge vaults of great cloud formations
and we picnic-ed under the shade of gnarly old olive trees. (baguettes, camembert cheese, fresh tomatoes, lettuce etc. followed by peaches – yum!)
The roads lost their flat contours as we neared our destination and in the distance we could see the Alps looming. And so we arrived, nestled in a neat little Van park in the shadow of huge tree-clad hills. It is still hot, but the breeze is cooling and it will not be long before we are climbing those mountains and heading for Italy
Tags: Observations, Transport, Travel, Weather, Tag Index
kiwijoe
August 13th, 2009 at 3:13 pm
So was that some kind of strike that you witnessed?
I read somewhere that for the French protesting is the same as BBQ is for Americans, a way to have fun! So it must be pretty commonplace…
Always lovely to read about how you are all getting along… even though I don’t always have time to leave comments!