Spain at Last

Thursday 18th and John woke refreshed and was ready for another day’s travel with the aim of reaching a friends house north west of Toulouse by evening. The trip to Jo and Paul’s was delightful, the weather was good and taking the slow roads we wound through the wooded hills and valleys of the Dordogne crossing the river at Souillac. We made a short diversion to Cahors in an attempt to pick up water and the sat nav decided to use a small lane running along the river Lot and under the 14th century Pont Valentré. It is claimed that this is the most photographed bridge in France but being so focused on avoiding on coming traffic we failed to get a picture – must try harder! In common with most service facilities the cold spell meant that no water was available!!


The hills gave way to flat valley bottoms and arable plains covered in apple trees, tightly pruned for easy picking and protection. After acre upon acre of these trees we finally arrived at Castéra Bouzet and called Paul for directions, the neighbours’ cassowaries provided a sure landmark and we were soon parked next to the delightful cottage overlooking a green valley. A trip to nearby Lavit provided more local flavour and pizza’s were consumed – goat’s cheese and fig for him, duck and plums for her – not typical cuisine but it is the closed season.

The next day was turned over to maintenance, cleaning the van and preparing the cottage for Paul and friend Richard’s arrival that evening. We made a short trip to the neighbouring village of St Michel where the only sign of life was a territorial Alsatian.

Paul and Richard’s arrival meant that work was suspended while two or three bottles of wine were tasted before their sprinter van was unpacked and dinner was prepared. A pleasant evening ensued as we got to know the “other halves” of tennis friends and pitied the wives left in bitter Somerset.

Leaving Paul and Richard to complete readying their houses for the Summer, and thanking them for their hospitality we headed south-east to Carcassonne and the Languedoc across flat plains where vines gradually replaced fruit trees in the fields and the scrubby Mediterranean terrain took over . We crossed and re-crossed the Canal du Midi, built to bring goods by water from the Atlantic coast to the Mediterranean Sea.

Our place to stay that Saturday night was the coach park aire directly adjacent and below the ancient but fully restored citadel, La Cité. This impressive structure sits above the canal and the river Aude, was Roman in origin and developed in the 12th century to provide a strategic position on what was then the Spanish border. The whole area has castles built on rocky pinnacles by the Cathars, a Christian sect persecuted in the Middle Ages. There was also land grab here during the Hundred Years War when England and France took turns in offering to build towns for the locals on the understanding that they would fight on their side. This strategy was used again by Lady Porter not so many years ago in Westminster.

Spring is really beginning here with almonds in blossom and wild flowers in bloom. The other change that has taken place is the increase in the number of motorhomes we have seen. At the start of our journey there was scarce one, but day by day the numbers have increased until today when my waving arm has become quite sore. The French do not wave. The Germans will wave but only if you wave first. The Dutch and Brits will wave at any opportunity and experienced couples are so practiced as to wave as one, something we aspire to but cannot hope to achieve on our first trip.

So today we crossed the border into Spain having glimpsed the Med. and driven through French towns that boast the giants of rugby union among their inhabitants and others we have only heard of through wine labels. These days crossing a border in mainland Europe is a little disappointing with abandoned patrol points looking shabby and uncared for.



Tonight we planned to be in Barcelona but got seduced into driving to Olot in the foothills of the snow capped Pyrenees and surrounded by dormant volcanoes in the Parc Natural de la Zona Volcanica de la Garrotxa . We are a little nervous as one did erupt a mere 11,500 years ago. Tomorrow, a full week after our start, we will make it to Barcelona.