Languadoc – Page 2 – My even older Holiday Weblog

As I said previously, my assumptions that central France would be devoid of traffic, were completely unfounded. First of all, there was nowhere to stay in Clermont-Ferrand. We must have visited at least twenty hotels only to be told that they were full, or to see ‘Hôtel Complet’ signs on their doors. Every time we stopped we were either just behind or just in front of some people asking exactly the same question: “vous avez un chamber pour ce soir?”. This became very frustrating. The weather was clouding over and night was drawing quickly in – we had to find somewhere. We even phoned and asked the lady we had booked our gîte with to see if she knew of anywhere, maybe in her village, we would have driven all the way if we had to. No such luck.

We drove further on, to a town called Issoire. This was a much smaller town, obviously thriving as it had quite a number of hotels. All full.

We drove on still further into the gloom towards small town called St. Flour. This was a pretty town in a (hilly) Harrogate sort of way – well equipped with hotels – all full. However, one receptionist did suggest that such-and-such a hotel about five miles down the road (and into the countryside) would probably have some rooms. As before – all full.

However, the receptionist at this off-the-beaten-track hotel was on the phone to another hotel asking for rooms for the man who was in front of me (and being told that they too were ‘complet’). So, we knew now to bypass that particular hotel, and what’s more, the man at the counter was now behind us!

We eventually found a hotel at Garabit. This, at the time, meant nothing to us but they did have a room for three people (their last) and we were able to finally stop for the night, after twelve hours on the road. The meals here were interesting. We asked for a well-cooked burger for Betony (which came bleeding – I had to pretend it was ketchup). Sharon had a turkey drumstick, cooked like a confit of duck and I had POUNTI, which I had never seen or heard of before. It was like a hot slab of pate de terrine.

Altogether, the evening there was delightful, if a little cold. Our room was so cold that we had to bring in our quilt from the car – we would need this at Stephen’s place.

Our travel-luck changed the next day, because as the sun came up after we departed the hotel, we were in for a surprise. Despite some fairly bleak countryside outside the hotel itself we were soon to see some really beautiful sights.

We set off on Thursday 13^th July (probably 2000). We¹ drove beneath the permanent summer cloud to Dover. Here, it brightened a bit as we boarded the ferry. I though that this was a good omen. We had booked a room in Boulogne and, driving down the new AutoRoute I reflected that the last time I had driven down this way was with Roger Forsey. He and I (both recently divorced at that time) had decided to drive to Dieppe for a few days, for no other reason than to go there – and to buy some booze on the way back. That time, it was absolutely sheeting down with rain and one lane of the then new motorway was blocked off because of the high winds. My reflection was that this time there was a strong sunlight and everything looked rosy. Another happy omen.

It was good to be in France.

Friday 14^th was Bastille Day and because it was Friday this year the whole of France had decided to have a long weekend. This was both good and bad. Good because it meant that there were no lorries on the road and bad because – well, read on.

It had rained during the night, which made the morning fairly cold. We decided upon shorts and sandals, hoping that the weather would clear up a few miles down the road. We were heading for Languedoc – specifically for St. Jean de Fos, near Gignac. This meant that our route was unfamiliar and that we would have to somehow circumnavigate Paris. This, in itself is enough to make you give up all hope and to continue with the holidaying in Blackpool. However, Sharon had taken our map and photocopied the western part of Paris – blown it up to A3 and marked our proposed route with highlighter pen². We were confident.

However, we missed the first major turning that we needed. There was just the one tiny signpost quite easily seen as you PASS the exit!

So, we ended up following the much ‘traffic-lighted’ road right in to the heart of Paris – at one stage we were hurtling towards the very centre, but I managed to turn back onto the periferique, where I was able to keep up a steady 85mph (!!) because that was what everyone else (and perhaps because there was very little traffic) was doing. The exit we now wanted was at the exact opposite side of Paris to where Sharon’s now useless photocopies wanted us to be. Still, we managed to get to the area where an exit was marked on our map, but we couldn’t find it exactly.

Who knew that there were two periferiques? – SEE.

We were on the ‘interior’ but the exit we needed was on the ‘exterior’. All of those Parisians heading out to the coast had by now blocked the road we wanted anyway, so after a time where we were just tootling around the back streets of southern Paris, we found a road that was going in roughly our direction. The traffic lights however, thought that it was still a normal work day and spent a good hour teasing us to spending more time in southern Paris than we really needed to.

We were heading for Clermont-Ferrand and in my ignorance and grossly inflated overconfidence (not to mention arrogance) – we had not booked an overnight stay. I had been advised to do so, it being Bastille Day etc. but no – I thought that as the route took us through central France it must surly be quieter there. After all, I hadn’t been to this area of France before, so why should it be busy! The motorways out of Paris towards Bordeaux and the west coast resorts were full of traffic, but ours was not. It was patently obvious that I was correct, as when we did eventually reach the motorway south, it was clear and empty (and toll-free incidentally). We had a terrific ride down, despite the cloud, on a very empty road.

To say that ultimately, I was wrong in all of my assumptions, would be a massive understatement. Tbc (soon).

1 – This time I was travelling with my new girlfriend Sharon, (now my wife), and her daughter Betony. Although we had camped in the south of France the previous year, some of the venues we visit on this journey are new to her but much travelled by me.

2 – Remember, no SatNavs back then.