Thursday, September 3, 2015

Buns of Steel? Or buns shortage?

Yesterday, after our short hike, Colin had promised me a longer hike today.  So I plot out a 10.2 km hike near Ternand, so we can stop by the bakery afterwards to buy more croissants.  However, when I show him the plan for today, it seems he has changed his mind, and only wants to hike about 5-6 km. I am very annoyed.  I compromise by plotting a new route that is 7 km, with the option of adding 1.5 km extra on the end if we feel like it.  The big challenge will be the 250m change in elevation, almost all of which comes within a tough 1km climb to Croix de Brou.  Colin starts to pre-load the googlemap version of the area onto his cell phone, but then stops: googlemaps doesn't show any connecting trail at the end of the 7 km loop.  It seems we cannot avoid doing the extra 1.5 km, to make an 8.5 km randonnée.  I offer to plot another route, but Colin says he is ok with the one we have.   


It is 33 degrees Celsius today and most of the walk will be on highway that is exposed to the sun.  Even though it is hot, the sky is overcast, which is great.  We pack plenty of water, and hope for the best.  We drive the 6km down the Highway D385 to Ternand, and find a spot to park beside the road, close to where Saint-Victor-et-les-Voutes meets Highway D629. We walk a couple hundred metres towards downtown Ternand, where Highway D31E hairpins. This is where the bus let us off, the day we went to the Ternand Medieval Festival.  Instead of following D31E into downtown, as we did last time, this time we take the grassy path marked with a randonnée flag, heading in the opposite direction. The grassy path drops down fairly steeply towards Ternansen creek below.  



At the bottom, we see the yellow Le Ternanson randonnée signpost. It directs us right, up a very small rough rocky trail, towards Le Giraud.



We find ourselves in shade provided by young leafy trees, before we pop out on a grassy incline. We spot what appears to be a lookout tower near the top of the rise ahead of us.  We wonder if it is for birds or perhaps for firefighters. It looks pretty new and secure.  We climb up.




The path continues through canola fields.  We're out in the direct sun now and sweat buckets.  Directly up ahead, we can see the heart someone has planted on the hill.  I wonder whether we’ll get near the heart on this walk.  "I hope not!" Colin replies. "Look how high up it is."  



Approaching Le Giraud, thecanola ends and the pavement begins at an intersection. We continue on straight forward, and soon we find ourselves at the Croix de Collard. Here, a painted flag on the cement telephone pole tells us to take the right hand fork, which basically keeps us going straight. 




At the next intersection, we reach Highway D629.  A randonnée flag painted onto the telephone pole tells us to take the left fork, and we pass a lumber yard on our left.  There is a small smattering of houses here, one with a large collection of chickens, as well as a small apple orchard.  The chickens all seem very curious about us and approach the fence by the side of the road. 


 


At the next intersection, there are city signs for the hamlets of Le Milhomme to the right and Chez Bontemps to the left. I didn't realize we were so close to Bontemps!  I hope those vampires are drinking their TruBlood and will leave us alone...  ;)  Or maybe they are all busy drinking Beaujolais wine, as the city sign also boasts three (!) wineries here, including Cuvée le Bon Temps. Another painted randonnée flag on a cement telephone pole directs us up a tiny dirt driveway on the right side of the building at the intersection (a painted randonnée X on another telephone pole tells us that going left at the building is the "wrong way")



We follow the dirt path up the hill behind the building. Colin finds a randonnée flag painted on a chunk of crumbling concrete on the path.  It seems we are playing the "find the flag" game again today.  This location is definitely a first.



The road is very very steep here.  Sweat drips into my eyes and stings so badly I keep squishing them shut.   I distract myself by finding some really neat red and purple rocks rocks.  We pass more randonnée flags... on a wooden posts and on a rock.





The road just keeps going up, and is a strange mix of crumbling concrete and stone. I cannot figure out how long ago this concrete was poured.  It is either really old, or else someone did a terrible job.  I just keep motoring up and up, wiping the sweat out of my eyes. We are rising over 200m in elevation in this kilometer. Already the valleys... and hills!... seem to be shrinking far below us.



We get even with the heart, and spot another lookout tower.  I climb up it... more to beg a rest than to access any better views than the ground will afford me.  The views are pretty amazing either way.  Colin uses his cell phone to take a pano. 



 (click on pano to enlarge)

Then, we are off again... climbing ever higher... Yes, we are climbing even higher than the heart on the hill... we have not yet reached the Croix de Brou signpost.  :p  Just past the lookout, there are several dirt paths that branch off. We take the one on the right, but I am pretty sure the one on the left just loops around to the same place. I guzzle my water and start to pause every 100 feet or so.  I certainly should have buns of steel after this hike!!  Gravel gives way to grass, and takes us along the edge of a field.  I lag farther and farther behind, until Colin hits cement. 





Just past where we join the pavement, we find the Croix de Brou randonnée signpost, and the cross itself.  We take the gravel path to Mont Jonc. On the right hand side of this path is a strange little white hut.  It seems like it is in the middle of nowhere... But then just behind it we see what appears to be dirt bike trails.  I clamber up a small earthen bank and use a rope to steady myself while I lean way over to try to read the canvas banner:  Groupama.  Well, that's not terribly helpful. 





A path forks off to the right, but the trees on the left are clearly marked with randonnée flags and spray-painted red arrows.  The deciduous trees give way to conifers, and it soon becomes clear we are in a commercially replanted forest.  The trees are all evenly spaced in perfect rows.    




We continue to find the strange “lookout” towers all along the trail--at least we assume are lookouts, until we notice that they are placed even where there is no view.  Soon the conifers give way to... brush... at least on one side, and we get some nice views over the next valley.





All of a sudden, the path gets pretty rough and drops down very steeply. I start singing:  "We are going down: down, down, down."  Then Colin slips and nearly falls.  "NO!  I don’t want YOU to go down!" I exclaim.  I tell him about my experience yesterday, and how every step counts.



We see a neat blue-roofed castle-looking building in the valley ahead. I think back to our randonnée to Sleeping Beauty's Castle... aka somebody's house... upon closer inspection, this one, too, appears to be simply someone's house.  Apparently, pretty much everybody lives in a castle in France.  Because France.  lol.  Next, we pass a strange little building with a big "talk to the hand" sign, telling us "do not enter."  I have no idea what it is, but it sure has a lot of solar panels.




Down past many many vineyards, we see both the Mont Jonc and Larieux randonnée signposts.  They are about 100m apart.  For some reason, there is a tiny stretch of pavement here.  Arriving at the Mont Jonc post, I run down to "collect" the additional signpost, then hustle it back, while Colin watches, amused.  




The grapes here are starting to turn purple.  This is the first ripening we have seen.  Thinking of how we don't have much longer here in France, we each try one ripe grape, just so we can say we saw the whole season through, from start to finish.  They are sweet and delicious--totally unlike the concord grapes I remember eating in the backyard of my childhood home in Vancouver (not that it stopped me from eating them at the time).  With smiles on our faces, we follow the Mont Jonc signpost's instructions and head left into the vineyards, towards Ternand.



Once through the vineyard, we find ourselves again in a light forest. Then the path hugs the edge of the trees as it winds towards Ternand. To our right in the valley below, we can see the ruins of an old house.





At a junction near La Cale, where our gravel path meets another, only a small yellow triangular VTT sign on a post tells us to hang a right. We continue onward on a boring section of gravel road until suddenly we are again in vineyards, and can see Ternand on the next hill.  It's picturesque beyond words.  We can see the whole downtown, with its iconic ruins towering above its skyline.  




It is here that we find the yellow Les Peletières randonnée signpost.  To our surprise, it gives us an option: straight ahead to downtown Ternand, as we expected, and left on a grassy path through the vineyards on the mystery path that does not show on google. Even though it will slightly shorten our hike, I can't resist the "invisible" path.  We head down.  While several other mysterious grassy paths weave through ours, there are enough painted randonnée flags on posts to reassure us we are on the correct path. 



At the end of the vineyard, at the bottom of the hill, we find ourselves in the same little forest near where our hike began.  Soon we are at the yellow Le Ternandson randonnée signpost. We climb up the grassy hill to the intersection where we started, and climb into the camionette. 





On the way home, we stop and buy wine at the OEdoria in Létra.  We next go to the Idée Gourmande bakery there, but have much less success:  there is a sign that they are "gone on vacation July 21-Aug 11."  We are totally out of croissants, so we take the time to drive to the Natalie & David de Cruz bakery in Allières.  They should be open.  Their posted hours claim they are open.  They are not open.  The lights are on, and there is bread laid out on the shelves, but the doors are locked and no-one is inside.  Unlike the bakery in Ternand/Létra, here is no sign to explain why.  I am very concerned we will have no croissants to end our trip.  That will just not do!  It is the great croissant shortage of late May all over again!!  We vow to locate some croissants tomorrow morning.


About 30 minutes after we arrive back at the gite, a big rainstorm hits. There is lightning and thunder. Our host Alban hustles to shut off the power and avoid frying the electrical system.  We lose wifi just as Colin’s evening work meetings are about to start.  He is not impressed.  I am still grumbling over croissants and our lack thereof.   Then, suddenly, the sun comes back out and all seems fine… the storm has passed.  When it comes to rain, Chamelet is sure not like my hometown of Vancouver Canada.  Even after nearly three months here, I am still surprised when the rain here starts, then stops again just as quickly.  We turn the power back on and it is smooth sailing the rest of the evening. 

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