There & Back Again

“Roads go ever ever on, 

over rock and under tree, 

By caves where never sun has shone, 

by streams that never find the sea;”

An Unexpected Journey. 

It was one of those days. You know? One of those days where you spend a couple hours chopping wood, then cooking a five-star meal, before retiring for a game of snooker and three and a half pints or so of gnat's piss.

"Let's have a quiet night in" I suggested. 

There was a knock at the door and, before I knew it, my larder was in shock.

It was a shock to me that I even had a larder.

I may have dreamt of a quiet retirement in the heart of nowhere, but clearly this was not meant to be. 

A fellowship was formed and I was persuaded, by dint of multiple bottles of local beverage, to go on an adventure. A search for golden treasure hidden at the other end of elsewhere.

An adventure! Hadn't I already lived a full and meaningful life? What did I need of wild adventures? Or even a slightly docile one? 

Surely another bottle of wine would cure me of this infuriating need?

...

The next morning I awoke in a haze. Bloody weather. 

A note had been left on the kitchen side. "Do the damned washing up, then we're off!"

So we left, leaving the ponies (and washing up) behind. Instead we travelled in our battery-driven knock-off American automobile, heading ever onwards. 

After many twists and turns (roads are like that) we came across a wide gorge and, clinging precariously to its side...

...a strange village with an even stranger name; Saint Cirq Lapopie.

Our fellowship was made up of four humans and, well, that was it actually. We were with two old friends (I also have young friends...)

...and a young wife...

Thankfully, this strange and perilous village provided us with second breakfast, merging, after an appropriate amount of wine, into lunch, before we headed across the barren landscapes to further our quest.

The Breaking of the Fellowship:

It finally happened. Our erstwhile friends had had enough. Too many forced meals had turned their livers to foi gras, their blood glucose to new heights. 

They left us, alone and forlorn, searching hopelessly for aid in our now all but hopeless quest.

Enter Nomad, son of Gnome. 

With the help of our new trusty steed, we faced the long journey north towards Arctic regions, beyond which lie such realms as Groinland and other Subservient States of The Trump Empire. 

Such a long journey required many stops for coffee, sleep, and more coffee, until we finally reached our goal: the Aged and Wise One. 

From our window (yes, our steed has windows) we could see the oracle's home 'Les Airelles' which, in the elven tongue, means 'Hotel California'.

Here we met with the ancient one who gave us words of sage philosophical advice such as "Who are you?" and "What am I doing here?" before we left for our final goal, the Dordogne. 

Maybe not the most direct route I've ever taken...

We arrived, after a long and perilous journey, in the southern reaches of the Dordogne, in a small village of, for some unknown reason, two names; Carsac-Aillac. I guess they couldn't make their minds up.

We moored our steed and continued our search for golden treasure.

We forded a treacherous rampaging torrent.

Thankfully washing facilities were freely available.

Our progress was impeded by mysterious tree-like creatures.

Mysteriously, they actually were trees.

Would we find here what we were searching for? Maybe within this golden building protected by a whomping willow? (Oops, mixing my classics here.)

Entering this aged church, Annick was somewhat surprised and 'inconvenienced'. It seemed to be an empty space, void of humanity. However, upon entering, the lights came on and the organ started grinding. Then hallowed voices chanted their hymnic verses. Modern technology meets aging edifice. The effect on Annick was profound. Not so much a profound religious experience, more of a profound knicker-wetting experience.

The lack of local conveniences was evident.

There were no signs of golden treasure, in fact, we began to suspected a trap. 

Turning, we saw the giant rock troll towering over us...

Time to exit stage left.

Roads go ever ever on

Under cloud and under star,

Yet feet that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

And so we arrived back home, in time to see the garden bursting into the very golden treasure that we had been searching for. 

The other end of elsewhere is nowhere else but home. (How's that for some deep philosophical thought?)

Time for another garden video methinks.

Lost Time is Never Found Again.

Fourteen years ago we stumbled upon a shard of paradise, fallen to earth deep in the pyrenees. 

We instantly fell in love with the place, and it repaid us by providing us with a haven, whilst sucking my wallet dry. Worth (nearly) every penny.

However, changes crept upon us. The climate slowly (but not slowly enough) warmed, reducing winter's snow. Age reduced our ability to hide the painful cries resulting from every fall. Each and every tumble left its mark. 

Meanwhile our other responsibilities tied us more and more to our main abode, keeping us from our mountain retreat. Time's they were a'changin'. It was time to sell. Our Hydeaway, much valued and much financially draining, had to go. 

Onto the market it went. Bureaucracy knew no bounds. As much as I love France, I do occasionally wish its white collar workers could find alternative employment. Calling Mr Musk.

However, back in the real world (you know, the one Trump is trying to destroy), our caring responsibilities approached the point of overwhelming us. On gradually realising that we needed to recover our personal life, another hard decision had to be made, one that filled us both with guilt. 

All happened with surprising speed. The normal French version of 'mañana' was left behind us in our backdraft. Before we knew it, we were driving north with maman riding shotgun. Six hours of motorway driving interspersed with multiple prolonged toilet stops with the aid of our in-house wc, ending up at a nursing home near Paris. Very near many of our family. 

It's near Crécy-la-Chapelle if any of you wish to visit.

Watch out for flooding...

After initial adjustment, she appears happy. We are still racked with guilt.

Despite that guilt, in fact because of it, we intend making best use of our new time, and boring your pants off by keeping you informed.

For instance, on St Valentines day, instead of having a romantic meal in a hyper-expensive restaurant packed with heaving bodies, we sped off to Cordes-sur-ciel for a romantic yoghurt in the camper-van. No mention of heaving bodies...

A room with a view.

The view as mentioned above.

A typical street in Cordes.

Typical creatures found in Cordes.

Another typical creature.

And yet another.

Then, within days, Luke arrived with his entourage, and after a couple of days frolicking around the pool, and doing the French gourmand thing...

Chez Ernest, our favourite resto in Montauban.

...we all set off to the Pyrenees, visiting, of course, our favourite resto in the mountains.

La Soulan

Now please sit back and relax as, instead of boring you stiff with a load of photos of our stay in the mountains, I've chucked them all together in a glorious video:

It was a great week, reminding us of how much we love the place, as do our kids and their offspring.

So this got me thinking...

This is me, thinking...

We have taken the house off the market.

Result.

And to prove we're not losing any more time, we spent the last night of the month stargazing for lined-up planets close to Saint Cirq Lapopie. 

 Our van was close to it, not the planets themselves...

This thing all things devours,

Birds, beasts, trees, and flowers.

Gnaws iron, bites steel,

Grinds hard stones to meal,

Slays king, ruins town,

And beats high mountain down.

Gollum

Troll-Trek Series 1, Episode 19: Of Creatures & Castles

 We awoke the next morning in something akin to a pond. Stepping outside of the van involved snorkels. So, amazingly, everyone but me stayed inside.

Today we are to return home to the Deep South. We are now on Plan C. Plan A was to stop near Limoges for a surprise visit to a local wildlife park. The Rain Gods said no. So, if water was today's topic, why not visit the local aquarium? The Rain Gods simply laughed.

This was to be a bugger of a day to drive, so best set off early, drive slowly and stop frequently. Plus drink bucket-loads of coffee.

The first half of the journey has been surprisingly good. The local roads up here are well maintained and the villages quaint. The traffic has been kept away by the weather making the morning drive surprisingly pleasant. 

Then the motorway. As much as French motorways are class one, when it's pissing down it ain't no fun. To make matters worse, as the two planned surprises were not to be, we stopped at (and I hate to admit this) a MacDonalds. Thankfully I slept through the entire experience.

Thus, today, my camera never left its bag. 

This leaves me with space to fill. Giving me the opportunity to present to you two videos of this bucket-list week. 

First: the Castles:

 

And the finale: the Zoo in Beauval. As I've often said, I dislike most zoos. But... 

 

Troll-Trek Series 1, Episode 18: Chaumont

Our sojourn in the Loire Valley was coming to an end, as tomorrow we head back home to deposit our two live-wires back (after a final night in Lamothe 😓) with their parents. 

I'm sure they can't wait...

This morning we woke fully charged. Well, except, as usual, me. 

As luck would have it, the Chateau de Chaumont awaited, on this very day, a very royal visit.

Two princesses, dressed in traditional garb, graced this fairytale castle with their presence.

Although they weren't too keen on the sleeping arrangements.

The chapel had been prepared for them, carefully placing natural and artistic objects in such a bizarre way as to give a feeling of intense unease. 

The one positive aspect was a billiard table, but even there the idiots had hung candles over it!

Sacrilege!

The fairytale roof design interested me, but then I'm not a princess. 

Despite all this negativity, both princesses entered positive thoughts into the royal guest book.

They then took their rightful place. 

Leaving Chaumont, we had just enough time to get to Amboise and wander our royal way into town to visit the local peasants.

A memorable day for the peasants.

I have gradually come to the conclusion that there must be more castles in the Loire Valley than there are local inhabitants.

The town itself is typical old France, although the local artists seemed a little too right-wing for me.

Our final night in the Loire. 

The sky starts to change. 

Tomorrow promises record rainfall.

Tomorrow will be wet. In more ways than one...

(Here)

Troll-Trek Series 1, Episode 17: Chambord.

The night was somewhat restless as the tail-end of Storm Cairon thrashed our van in vain, our combined weight proving too much for the Gods of Wind. They should eat more fibre.

We still had no power, but once dawn arrived, the sun started to pump its photons into our roof panels. Whilst our van absorbed this energy, we set off to find an alternative source of coffee....

As castles go, this has to be well up there amongst the most amazing. 

The external detail is astonishing.

The internal design labyrinthine. 

This castle just glows with architectural genius. And immense overt opulence. As a castle it is absolutely incredible and you must all try to get to visit it. 

But. 

As a defensive structure it's bloody useless. This is no shelter from the massed armies of Europe, this is simply there to say "Look what I've got and you cannot have!"

Despite our moral indignation, the two girls set off to discover clues and generally run amok. 

To help train our two crazed infants in the arts of war, a special exhibition was set up for them.

Battle tactics were well described

Special Harry Potter owl training was included.

And just to make the kids feel comfortable, an in depth description of the hundred years war against us helpless English was included, 

Death walks amongst us. 

Once the young trainees had come out of their post traumatic stress, we once more headed outside.

The gardens were kinda formal, and the forest was kinda dangerous due to continuing hurricane force tree felling. It was also bloody cold.

Thus we didn't get too far...

The word I'm looking for is 'windswept'...

It was time to leave and head off to find some power for the van. 

The sun had supplied our battery with what seemed like enough electricity, but some resistant gremlin in the works meant we had to search for a 220v supply.

After two false starts, we finally found somewhere to settle for the night. 

That is, once two raving lunatics had been sedated...

Tomorrow, our last castle, the Chateau de Chaumont, (here) before heading back south into hopefully better climes...

Night night.