DITL - Tour de France (Stage 11) - July 2012

A Salt & Pepper Adventures! Production - join us we as catch Free Stuff while waiting to see the riders zoom by during Stage 11 of the Tour de France.

-K

Musings – On Being the Odd Ones Out

It is only for the purposes of a good analogy that I would admit to reading People Magazine (at least I think it was People, maybe it was Us Magazine); particularly the section where they have a picture of a celebrity doing something innocuous (like buying groceries) and the caption reads, “They are just like us . . . they buy groceries!”

This is how I often feel as, curious, kind-hearted Europeans gaze in wonder first at Salt ( a rarely seen Airstream in Europe) then at our license plates, usually emitting an, “Ahhh Californeee!” response.  Then they watch us for signs of normalcy for which they have been richly rewarded:

1)      They hang their clothes on the line just like us!

2)      They walk their dogs just like us!

3)      They have cocktails just like us! And, when we are getting ready for bed and forgot to close the curtains;

4)      They brush their teeth just like us!

In all seriousness, one of the truly unexpected pleasures of the Aventura has been meeting people from around the world, and I doubt they’d approach us if it weren’t for Salt. 

Or maybe it’s The Noses.  Either way I am grateful.

-K

Presset Refuge & The Final Days in Landry, France – July 19-22, 2012

More pictures here!

I can’t believe that we stayed another three weeks in one spot, but that is what France will do to you.  Now I understand why so many Europeans vacation here:  Between the beaches and the mountains France has it all covered—much like California.  And, just like California, when the tourist season hits full swing the charming small towns become crowded and, at least to us, less attractive.  So we are heading off to Switzerland tomorrow but not before a quick recap of our final days.

We accomplished one last long hike up to Lac Presset and the Presset Refuge, almost nine miles round trip (14 KM.)  The trail starts out with a gradual but constant incline until you are just past the Refuge de Balme (temporarily closed for construction) and then increases in intensity until you are clambering hand over foot the final ½ mile straight uphill.  But the reward is supendous:  A small, sparkling clear lake with a great view of Pierra Menta and the mountains behind La Plagne as well as a charming Refuge including refreshments served by the two cutest waitresses in all of France.  (See picture link above—I wish I had video-taped the encounter so priceless was their dedication and earnest desire to serve.)

After a short break we hiked over to the Col du Brussard where we could see down the opposite valley all the way to Beaufort.  A couple of days later, while dining at La Pierra Menta Bar & Restaurant overlooking Lac Roselend (delicious and traditional Savoie food including a dessert recipe from their grandmothers which was out of this world but, as they waitress said, “You have to like figs”), we realized we were gazing up at the Pierra Menta from the opposite side of the mountain and actually sitting adjacent to the valley we had looked down upon the other day.  It is just as stunning from either side, although the Lac Roselend view also includes Mont Blanc (and less tired legs.)

SP managed to end his fishless-ness by catching (what I think) is an Arctic Chard during our time at Lac Roselend but I came away empty.  We stopped in a couple of promising looking pools along the river on the way home but yielded nothing more.  Knowing that there were a handful of children awaiting the arrival of Rosco and River for the evening walk, we packed in our poles and headed home.

I didn’t think River’s life would get better following her evening in Antibes but it sure has:  Started by two of our neighbor’s kids, we now have a circle of six vying for walking and petting time.  At any given moment River can be found laying down with two to four hands all petting her.  The (darling) kids also pet Rosco of course, but he doesn’t relish the attention quite like River.  Indeed, eventually he will look so longingly at the front door that we’ll let him in to sleep while River maintains the love-fest.

It is lucky for us that most Europeans are better educated than we are; it has been an unexpected delight to meet our neighbors in camp (all adjacent pitches have people from the Netherlands in them and they all speak English.)  Not only have they helped with the dog-walking instructions but we have also picked up tips on where to land in Switzerland following our quick stop in Geneva, and a Rabobank cap from an IBM’er who is so nice I forgive him for working with Oracle products.

-K  

Refuge Rosuel & Col de la Seigne, French Alps – July 15-16, 2012

More pictures here!

  

As hiking is the name of the game for us here, the next few posts will be primarily hiking related.  How could I possibly pass up writing about standing with one foot in Italy and one in France?!

For our prelude to the Hike to Italy (getting the legs going again after multiple days of sitting in a car) we opted for a short three miles up around the Refuge Rosuel.  We likely would have gone farther, but the trail continues into the Vanoise National Park where dogs are not allowed.  So we enjoyed our short hike and the awesome scenery while dreaming about what lay just over the pass in the National Park. 

Incidentally, the Refuge Rosuel looked to be one of the best we have seen.  Have I mentioned the Refuges here yet?  If not, a short note:  They are hosted bunk-houses (although some of them, like Rosuel, seem to have actual rooms) that you can stay in overnight, blankets and sheets included.  They all offer food and drink (often Leffe!) and are set in awe-inspiring locations making them an excellent and affordable way to see the mountains.  (Many hikers plan a route from Refuge to Refuge instead of carrying a tent and sleeping bag.)

After our warm-up hike we were ready to tackle the much longer Hike to Italy; we headed up the Valley of the Glaciers to the Col de la Seigne where you can stand with one foot in Italy and one in France while gazing at Mount Blanc.   It was a long four miles up, but well worth it.  My vote goes to France for the best views back down into the valleys, although Mount Blanc, with its brooding chunk of glacier, is quite impressive.

As for The Noses, they have discovered the sharp chirp of the Marmotte; when it sounds, they bound across the mountainsides and stick their noses as far down the holes as they possibly can.  Rosco always keeps one eye on us and finds his way back but River is 100% engrossed in the Marmotte Fiesta and we often have to meet her halfway.  As most of you know, River would gladly go home with any human; never having met one she didn’t adore (and vice versa.)  Thus, I worry about losing her.  On the other hand, Rosco is sure to come back to us as his view on humans is, “Better the devil you know.”

 -K

Antibes & Tour de France – July 10-13, 2012

More pictures here!

Usually when we stop for more than a week in one spot I quickly run out of news to post.  That is not the case with Week #2 in Landry, France.  Three (yes three!) good friends and a Tour de France sighting quickly added up to a very busy week.

The day after Judy left we packed The Noses into the Pepper and headed to the Cote d’Azur to meet up with Taylor & Cindy in Antibes.  As Google maps said it was only 5 ½ hours we thought we’d take a more scenic route down; leaving Salt behind, we started with a climb up through the Col de Petit St. Bernard and over into Italy.  Why wasn’t I making a scenic drive video?  Mostly because when I could tear my eyes away from the narrow, winding road, I just gaped at the incredible scenery.  It really is unfair of one country to have so much beauty.

On the other side of the Col we landed in La Thuile, Italy, a charming town in its own right, before jumping onto the motorway and heading straight down to the coast stopping only for some coffee--no one makes coffee like the Italians.

The drive eventually took us south along the Mediterranean coast, passing under (yes, unfortunately under) Monaco (this area is filled with tunnels, so the sightseeing was not what I was hoping for) arriving at the Vogue Hotel in Cap d’Antibes by 4:00 p.m. – 7.5 hours on the road.  A quick shower and we drove over to what will forever be called, “River’s Heaven.”

Taylor & Cindy were staying with some friends in a villa in Antibes; could it get better for The Noses than a palm tree filled yard (it was back to 30/90 down at the coast) with real grass and a fully fenced yard?  Oh yes it could:   All the people in the villa were dog lovers.  And I mean lovers.  Every time I looked for River she was either playing with people at the edge of the pool or laying under a palm tree being petted.  (Rosco, who most of you know doesn’t give a lick about affection, found his own heaven by routing through the garden in search of moles and then sleeping out in the pool house.)

We had a delightful candlelit dinner outside on the patio, complete with fresh flowers and intelligent conversation (all of which we could understand!) before having to drag River away.  I am quite sure everyone, including River, thought she should become the Villa Chien.  The following morning, when we stopped by to pick up Taylor and Cindy for our trip to Cannes, I let River loose at the gate and she bounded up the steps to receive her morning love; free from the apparently torturous experience of staying with us overnight.

The beaches in Antibes and Cannes were crowded beyond belief (like Main Beach in Laguna during the summer) and the restaurants and shops are more on the tacky side until you reach Cannes.  Cannes is Beverly Hills and the port at St. Barth’s rolled into one.  We filled up on our gorgeous car and yacht sightings before settling down to a delicious lunch in a small café tucked down a quiet side street.  As fun as the previous night was, it was a delight to have Taylor and Cindy to ourselves despite suffering, as most of us were, through our hangovers.

We headed back home via a faster route (back through Grenoble) but didn’t reach Salt until after 10.  The alarm went off at six and, still bleary-eyed we left for our Tour de France day.  We were parked by nine awaiting The Caravan.  Apparently, one of the biggest events in the Tour de France is this caravan of floats and cars that drive through at least an hour ahead of the race tossing free stuff out along the way.  We managed to score some Frisbees, cookies and candies as well as two newspapers which we cannot read.

The excitement grew as we heard the helicopters circling overhead (this leg being fully televised) and we knew the racers were just around the corner.  Being on a flat stretch, they whip by very quickly with a full contingent of police on motorbikes surrounding them.  One minute you are standing there and the next you are blasted by wind so strong it almost knocks you down and then they are past.  Thankfully the riders had already broken into two groups so I was slightly better prepared a few seconds later when it all happened again.

And just like that, they were past; we packed up and headed back to Salt.  It was a lot of waiting for very little action but I was glad we did it.  Nothing beats being at a live event with the energy and excitement of the crowd.  Much later, back at Salt, we watched the thrilling ending:  That guy crashed and then got back up and won the leg!  Amazing athletes.  With or without HGH.

Now we are looking forward to getting back into the hiking/fishing groove.   I am afraid I must make myself get on the scale today . . . but not until after my Pain au Raisin.

-K

Landry, French Alps, Part 1 – July 3-8, 2012

More (incredible) pictures here!

Driving into Landry, it was hard to imagine what we could add to the gorgeous scenery and abundance of outdoor activities to make it a more perfect home; then Judy arrived proving that sometimes in life you can’t even dream big enough.

As if the day of Judy’s arrival wasn’t a grand enough occasion, it was also the day we caught our first fish in the river alongside the campground.  I landed the small trout after only three casts but unfortunately neither of us had any action after that. 

After picking Judy up at the train station and getting her checked into the small hotel in town, we headed up the Vallee des Glaciers for a long, narrow drive and a short hike to Refuge Les Mottets.  The hike was a perfect way for all three of us to get introduced to the area and the gorgeous scenery was the impetus we needed to get up and hiking again the next day.  Well, the scenery and the pain de raisin.  OK, the scenery, the pain de raisin and the rum and tonics.   (Thanks to Judy’s kindness, we are the proud owners of a non-horse-molested North Face Minibus 2 tent as well as three litres of Mt. Gay rum!)

Since Judy was still speaking to us after our first hike, we opted for a “moderate” trail for the following day.  Two miles to the Refuge La Coire where we stopped for lunch, and then (we thought) four miles back via a loop trail around the mountain.  We must have missed a turn on the trail as the outward loop turned into six miles and we didn’t come back down to the spot indicated on the trail map.  I am pretty sure between driving on the narrow roads and hiking much longer than anticipated, that Judy thought we were trying to kill her. 

It was a day filled with heart-pounding climbs, breath-taking scenery and the joy of a good friend.  After that incredible day, we rolled into Bourg St. Maurice for a late dinner of pizza and a delicious Bordeaux.

All to soon we were driving Judy to the train station for her long trip home.  It was odd to think of her going home, it felt so much like she should be living here.  Maybe that’s an indication of SP and me settling into this life.  I could so easily live in this spot of the world with its plethora of year-round activities surrounded by incredible mountain views. 

And, of course, the pain de raisin.

-K

Marseilles, Provence and the Verdon Gorge - June 26 - July 2, 2012

More pictures here!

Leaving Ax Les Thermes was made much easier when we learned that, in order to complete escrow on our Seattle home, we had to have documents signed and notarized by the US Consulate General in Marseilles.  What?  Sell a house?  Are we dreaming?  It all came up so suddenly (the house not even on the market) that we were struck mute and just stared at each other in disbelief.  But the shock quickly turned to excitement when the documents arrived so we quickly packed up and headed to Marseilles.

As you know by now, big cities are not really our thing especially with The Noses and temperatures in the 30/90’s.  So I was disappointed to find Marseilles not the quiet fishing village I had envisioned, but the teeming, hot and dusty second-largest city in France.  The city will be the Center of European Culture in 2013 and, likely as a result, has most of its streets under construction.  It was pure hell attempting to drive Pepper around so when we found the Sofitel Hotel and they suggested turning over the keys, we had our first glimpse of the luxury that awaited us inside.

I have raved about hotels before, undoubtedly they all seem much better when coming from living in 19’, but the Sofitel in Marseilles is simply an oasis.  The staff was incredible:   Finding us a dog sitter (for the paperwork appointment at the Consulate); the Concierge, Christian utilizing all his patience on the telephone with FedEx coordinating the paperwork shipment back to the US; and another Christian serving us (and The Noses) with humor and interest for two nights in the delightful lobby bar. 

I received a long-awaited and fabulous short French haircut in the salon and we both took advantage of some spa treatments.  There was a pool but we never seemed to find the time to get down there.  All too soon our visit had come to an end.  It was with heavy hearts that we checked out, walked into the wall of heat and began the torturous drive back through the city, returning to our safe but dusty Salt.

We had left Salt at the Ste. Victoire Campground in Beaurecuiel, just outside Aix en Provence, another disappointing city for me.  Like Marseilles, Ax en Provence is much larger than I anticipated and not the quaint little village you so often see portrayed in the movies—I think the adjacent rolling hills harbor the quaint villages, a vision not attainable when towing a caravan as will soon become quite evident.

Just by chance, when we left the Aix en Provence area with Salt, Snoopy led us down the wrong road (OK, the Snooper is useless outside of the UK, it doesn’t know what roads are ok for caravans!  After this disastrous drive we have finally [finally, finally] learned the lesson of using a regular old map) and we ended up amongst rolling fields of cultivated lavender.  People were parked all over the place, walking into the fields and taking pictures.  (We did not stop for pictures; we barely had room on the road to drive let alone pull over.)

After altering our route twice due to road signs specifying no caravans (again, unbeknownst to Snoopy), we ended up at a four-way junction.  One option said no caravans and the other two didn’t need a warning; they were barely larger than an alley.  Time to turn around.  Not easy . . . I got out, we walkie’d up (walkie-talkies are indispensable!), and, holding up traffic in two of the three options, we pulled into one alley, then backed Salt into the other alley and eventually were able to turn around.  Joy.  I must say, though, that the French are much more tolerant of unusual traffic occurrences (sadly, we did find the one driving issue they clearly hate, but that comes later), everyone just waved and smiled as I thanked them profusely.  Of course, many of them had their cell phones out and were taking pictures of Salt . . . she must be all over the Internet by now.

Despite my almost hourly request that we stop the foolishness of traveling the back roads of France and stay at the municipal site right off of the A15, we eventually wound our way to our campground, L’Aigle, outside Lake St. Croix in the small village of Aiguines.  My nerves were frayed, I tell you!  If it wasn’t for SP, we would never have reached the Gorge (at least with Salt in tow.)

Lake St. Croix is gorgeous (an incredible shade of aqua) and the Verdon Gorge is quite stunning; it is referred to as the Grand Canyon of Europe, although I would label it more the King’s Canyon of Europe.  Unfortunately for us, the hiking in the area is very difficult—the walls of the gorge are too steep to get down except for the most experienced hiker (we reached a point one day where, in order to continue, you would have to hold onto a rope while backing down the slippery stone wall; we may have tried this on a dry day and without The Noses, but thankfully it was raining.) 

We did accomplish one great hike along the ridge to Le Grand Marges where we could see the entire canyon from end to end but, alas, not down to the gorgeous river bottom.  The hike up to and along the crest was a treat for the senses as the hills are filled with wild lavender making the air (as well as The Noses after their patented crazy dog in the meadow) a delight to smell.

Still anxious to see the canyon floor, on our last day we rented a small electric boat from the shores of Lake St. Croix and cruised up into the canyon.  What a refreshing treat!  Particularly the quick dip I took before heading back in. 

After three nights we were ready to tackle the chore of getting back onto the small roads and head up to the French Alps.  This time I spent the morning pouring over maps (electronic and paper) and painstakingly writing out our course.  We only had 350 KM to the next spot, but Snoopy thought it would take seven hours, that gives you an idea of the types of roads on which we were to travel.

We did have some nice relaxing time on the toll highways (happy to pay tolls for those smooth, wide lanes!) except for the first one where, with no cash and the machine not accepting any of our credit cards, I had to push the help button and explain our situation over a loud speaker.  A very loud speaker.  Cars were lined up behind us when, about three minutes later, they gave up and lifted the gates.  We immediately pulled over and SP walked back to the office in an attempt to pay.  The office was closed.  I stood outside Salt trying to calm my nerves while the long line of cars proceeded past, with three motorists shouting (what I imagine were) expletives.  That is how we discovered what makes a French driver yell.  We owe France €5.60.  (By the way, all the other toll machines had no problem taking our various credit cards.)

I don’t usually talk about roads much, (may your guiding light help you if you ever try to follow our route!) but if you are ever in the area, the trip up the E712 toward Grenoble, although slow, is stunning.

Now we have landed in Landry, a small town at the foothills of the French Alps, at the Flower Campground L’Eden de la Vanoise.  Our pitch has a view of snow-capped peaks out the front door, a river running along behind us, fresh pastry at the office every morning and a full hook up! (Don’t ask me which one I appreciate more just yet.) 

We have multiple hikes lined up and the possibility of seeing three good friends so it should be a fabulous couple of weeks!

-K

PS:  Since I know some of you worry about The Noses, here is The Dog Sitter’s Report:  Rosco sat and stared at the door the entire time we were gone (2.5 hours), River took a nice long nap then played with the sitter.  The sitter said she tried to get Rosco to play, but he wasn’t interested.  No surprises there.