Villefort

Le Bleymard - The Pickup - 20 April

It was a sad morning knowing that our good friend Loustic would be returning home. Steve awoke at around 7 am to find glaciers had developed on the outside of the tent, with the frost and fog still sitting heavy in the valley. At first sight poor Loustic let out a bellowing 'eee-h-oooorr' which seemed to translate into 'Pardon me old chap but I seem to have wrapped myselmf continually around this pole and therefore am unable to continue to gorge myself on fresh grass, be a sport and take me to a greener patch'.

Sorting donkey out was one thing but finding our gas can did not have the correct fitting Steve left a smoldering mess of an attempt at a fire (saving grace - remeber all the twigs are covered in frost!). On returning without gas but with ample food supplies as an offering to Camilla it was clear girl guides had paid off! The smoldering mess now had flames roaring from within and a pot boiling water to the side.

The pickup for Monsieur Donkey was 2 pm giving us ample time to explore this tiny village in the valley. Temptation got the better of us so we chose a strawberry tartelette and apple cinnamon flan both of which were eagerly devoured under the most enormous blossom tree. The patissier was more than helpful at explaining the ingrediants pulling spice boxes out of the kitchen to help with translation.

A quick call home to the parents was met with glee. As much as the internet helps us keep in touch nothing replaces the reassurance of each others voice to confirm everything is fine. Packing up our tent has become quite systematic and within half and hour we were sitting in the grass having lunch reflecting on the last couple of days. Loustics chariot arrived and we said our final goodbyes then off to the local bar to drown our sorrows before the only bus to leave town for 3 days.

Huddling under the information hut as the sunshower began, a whole half an hour earlier than the designated bus departure seemed a little excessive. An hour and a half later the local school children turned up to go home for the weekend just as we started making plans to remain. Whether the departure time was lost in translation or not (maybe just a Sydney cityrail timetable), the wait was worthwhile as the trip down the valley in the afternoon sunshower was glorious.

Villefort - 20 to 22 April

Still buzzing with excitement from the bus ride carreering around bends overlooking the jagged gorges and winding river, Chateau Champs and precarious apple orchards clinging to the cliffs we toddled into town. There were all of two accommodation options available within a 1 km walk of the station, in a town that is 2 km long, so we had little choice but to stay at Hotal Balme.

At 35 euros a night is was surprisingly in good condition. Stepping back into the 1930s decor, floral wallpaper and 12 foot ceilings was complimented by the ruddy hotellier without an ounce of humour in the whole 200kg of him. The view out the window typified our location in the heart of Southern France with winding streets leading of the main boulevard where men played boule smoking pipes and boulangeries compete for your business.

Without gas we opted for the popular pizza restaurant and had one of the best woodfired pizzas topped with a soft yolked egg, yum. Night two in Villefort led us back to the same pizza place which indicates what we thought of the place.

The first morning in Villefort was spent lazily in the cafe boulangerie where we had our first coffee in weeks and devoured croissants, scrolls and raisin swirls. A couple of kilometre walk with dirty laundry in tow to the laundramat was in vain as it was closed yet we continued as planned to Lake Villefort.

Lake Villefort has an immense damn filling the valley to 60 metres of water and a vast drop on the other side to a trickle below. We ate under a tree on the side of the damn and soaked up some rays before heading back in to town for a later afternoon snooze. Tough life really.

We have found so far that trains are by far the best way of getting around France, even in and out of some of the most remote country towns. The system is immense with infrastructure including numerous tunnels over 1 kilometre long, incredible viaducts and bridges and smooth tracks however the trains themselves range immensely from 40 years old to fresh out of the box.

Packed and ready to leave on the 22 April we commenced the journey at the Villefort station. To our surprise the train which came to pick us and two other passengers up had only one carriage but was very modern. Winding down the mountain we changed trains in Ales before a final change in Nimes then onto Avignon.