Just drifting

Thursday June 21st

We found a little piece of heaven today. We are in the Drome Valley, a little north of Provence, having come through some stunning alpine scenery. We are camped just west of Die ( a pretty place in spite of its name) in a spacious and peaceful site (Camping le Condamine) next to the river Drome. A Roman villa once stood here. The campsite owner’s father discovered a mosaic floor in 1974 (now reconstructed in the museum of Die) and the site was declared a site of special archaeological interest. 

We arrived to the incredible singing of cicadas, and later, we witnessed the amazing cloud of white moths that appear here like magic as soon as the daylight dies. Walking in the dry river margins where flash flooding is clearly a feature we marvelled at how ants have so successfully populated its snowy white mud, right up to the waters edge. Insect life has been very apparent throughout our travelling. Black flies plagued our last camp, we have both been midge and mosquito supper and we still have some ant passengers from Italy. It’s not humans who rule the world; it’s insects.

Unable to sleep tonight (it is very warm) I am listening to the sounds of the night and imagining myself in the Roman villa, surrounded by the mountains, the florally abundant meadows, the gushing milky green river, the cicadas and the Mistral providing some relief from the heat. It has been 34 degrees today, and the wind is now rocking our rig and flapping our awning such that if not in a Roman villa I could imagine myself on a boat. Tonight there are no mopeds, no barking dogs or heavy long haul traffic. There is just the sound of the river and night birds signalling their presence in the woodland. A perfume drifts in on the wind from the lavender fields close by and my senses are fully awake.

We have been in the Alps since leaving Italy and have travelled south from Grenoble, stopping for a couple of days at a lake side campsite and now heading west, then north towards Lyon as we make our way slowly home. I have decided that this part of France is one I would like to return to. The winding hairpin road passes through the crumbly mountains have been giddyingly spectacular but much easier on Hymer’s suspension and our spines than Italy’s equivalents. France somehow feels gentler than its high-heeled neighbour. To use musical adjectives, I would describe our passage through Italy as staccato where France, so far, is pianissimo. 

Friday June 22

We ‘struck camp’, resisting the call of the river for another paddle and walk. Bess had enjoyed it too much yesterday evening and is now suffering with a swollen ankle. Poor dog! She hasn’t fared well this holiday. She picked up something in her ear after running in long grass at Lucca and it was evidently hurting her. We can’t find anything in her ear but we are a bit suspicious that it has affected her hearing. Not that we can be sure it isn’t her usual wayward stubbornness of course! On top of that and the sprained ankle she put her nose on an electric fence this morning.

Leaving the beautiful Drome valley we entered the Rhône valley and what a river the Rhône is! Wide and navigable, it is a highway for the vineyards and the fruit growers. Traversing another, albeit smaller mountain range on our way to the Loire valley we are now up in the cool of a forested National Park area, in a very peaceful aire. To camp here is free, spaces are generous and we are surrounded by nature instead of urbanisation. The French do motorhoming so well and communities are generous in their provision for it. Bon idee, France, et merci beaucoup!