Some Like It Hot

We slither into shadows like ne’er-do-wells, avoiding police.   Our heads are covered.    Sweat pores from our faces like colourless blood from an invisible wound.         We seek watering holes like weary buffalo.   Those we pass speak the same  words in parched whispers through cracked lips.    “Turn.  Off.  The. Sun.”

We pay fortunes to be in air conditioned shops, cinemas, houses.    We form undying friendships with anyone who has a pool.  When we can’t do either of those we sit in sealed, dark houses in front of fans whizzing out air only one degree lower than the ambient temperature.    The effort to scratch our mosquito bites renders us exhausted.

Summer 2018 in the Languedoc.    And most of Europe.   Three weeks to date with temperatures in the high 30’s and rising.

And yet the people of this area celebrate the certainty of these skin sizzling temperatures with weekly festivals, fetes, fairs where people drink, eat and dance wildly   Or maybe that’s just me.  …and Ginny (the dancey bit).

We have yet to visit a village Brasucade but hope to next week.  Fires lit on pavements cooking meat, music and the ever present vignerons offering their gorgeous wines for tasting   So civilised.   So not health and  safety.

We head for the coast or the hills    We’ve done both this week in order to find some respite.   A first time visit to Rochelongue. A tourist venue but non the worse for that.    Miles and miles of sandy beaches, hundreds and hundreds of people, and yet the beach did not feel crowded or loud.   Beach Club l’Infinit has the best lunch menu we’ve enjoyed so far   Apart from the Sole running out just as I was about to order!  The busy chef surprised us by  shelling my prawns and all the staff were delightful.

….. and there was a sea breeze.   Some respite from the heat.

Still seeking solace from the searing sun (I love a bit of sibilance) we headed for the hills.

Oh my goodness me.   I had been experiencing another little bout of homesickness and the journey towards our destination of Lac Salagou certainly lifted my soul.    The vineyards petered out, giving way to wheat fields, blue mountains and pink and yellow rock terrain.

And every so often, like amuses bouches for the eyes, (amuses yeux?) villages were presented to us, the more exciting because we felt we had discovered them.   Pézènes-les-Mines is awe inspiring.   This medieval village is dominated by its 11th/12th century Chateau.  So people have been living there for over a thousand years and producing Faugères wine from their vineyards.

The ancient buildings seem to tumble on top of one another and down into the wooded valley.

Reluctantly we left this beautiful village behind us and set off for Lac Salagou, eyes wide with wonder, brows unusually perspiration free due to the aircon in the car.

It would seem that we would suffer beauty overload, but somehow each new stunning area we visit takes its own place in our hearts.   Whilst Lac Salagou is man made, Man has done his very best to make a thing of beauty.   The lake, created in 1968, has allowed a diversification of local agriculture and has regulated the River Salagou, which was subject to flooding in the autumn.

We approached the lake from its quieter side and sat shading from the sun in one of the lake’s guignettes, “Relais Nautique”.   Despite a handful of swimmers and paddle boarders, it was possible to enjoy the peace and beauty surrounding us.

We drive right round the lake, taking in the busier water sports area and more sophisticated restaurants, until we were overlooking the village of Celles.

This village was evacuated when the area was flooded to create the lake.   However the water stopped outside the village and, apart from the Marie and the church, all the other house are falling, very slowly into disrepair.

 

…. and the view that the villagers gave up

Gazzie chose one of those hair raising journeys home on an unmade road right round the lake.

We saw a sign post off the motorway to Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert.   “Shall we?”   says the driver.   “Oui”, says pretentious passenger.

We could just see that the whole area, (the medieval village, the Clamousse Caves, the Gorges de l’Herault, the Pont du Diable) was well worth a visit.    However, (and this is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the Languedoc) there was no room to park or walk or see so we drove through and determined to return out of season    You shall come with us, dear bloggees, if you so wish.  Here’s a taste