Off to the Alps

Yes, time for another holiday, in our busy mentally and physically taxing Year in Provence!!
We spent last week camping in the Alps, with friends from England James and Helen, and their children Thomas and Jenny.
On the way up, Lew and I stopped for a night at Allevard, and visited the Chateau at Vizilles.

This is a great example of how a French Chateau should be - turrets and towers, stairways and parapets, French flags everywhere you look.

 The Chateau housed the Museum of the Revolution, which we had a quick look through, but we spent more time walking through the extensive grounds with lake, fish hatchery, deer farm, and lots of beautiful big trees.  The area of Provence we live in is quite scrubby and barren, so Lew especially is missing the larger trees like beech and oak.

Our home for the week was a 5 star tent on the campground at Pralongnan la Vanoise, a little skiing village right at the end of the valley - you literally couldn't drive any further into the mountains.  James and Helen had their own family tent, but we hired a ready assembled version, complete with wooden floor, comfy beds, duvets and......electric light!  Even Lew could stand upright inside!

The campsite was surrounded by mountains, so although it meant we lost the sun relatively early, the views were stunning.

We were looking forward to some cooler weather, after 2 months of temperatures over 30 degrees every day - well, be careful what you wish for!  The days were sunny, mid-20's and no wind - perfect for walking and cycling.  But the nights.....down to 6 degrees fairly quickly once the sun had disappeared!  We were glad we had brought our sleeping bags to add to the duvets, and the bike ride to get the morning croissants involved 5 layers plus hat and gloves!

On our first day James, Lew, Thomas and I went for a bike ride.  Camping in the valley inevitably means that any activity involves varying degrees of uphill, but also guarantees good views from the tops.

It also means long uninterrupted downhills - not my cup of tea, but the boys loved it!
The next two days were spent walking;
uphill in the morning.....

 downhill in the afternoon!

Thomas and Jenny did really well, as the walks weren't easy, especially the second day.  However, they were motivated by the concept of the French Mountain Refuge.  The French are not really a nation who exercise for the sake of it; they have the lowest gym membership rate in the world (whilst also boasting the lowest rate of cardiovascular disease in the developed world - what does that tell us?)  However, when confronted with the merest hint of physical exercise, they are willing to comply, as long as there is a bar or cafe somewhere along the route for refuelling.  Hence the frequent sight of an entire peleton parked up at a roadside bar mid-ride, enjoying their pression (draught beer), coffee, or red wine.  So the mountains are no exception.  Just when you think you have reached the end of civilisation, round the corner and hey presto, the French Mountain Refuge appears like a mirage in the desert!

Not only serving alcohol and coffee, but also scoop ice-cream in 12 different flavours with large amounts of cream and chocolate sauce - what more stimulants do you need to propel children (and adults) further into the mountains?! French hikers have their Refuges, English walkers have their tea-shops, and Kiwis have their....dried fruit and nuts out of a plastic bag.  Have the Kiwis missed the boat somehow?!  Do we need to introduce the idea back home?  I can just see the Green party saddling up their high horses, ready to mount - "Tip Top ice-cream in the National Park?"  It'll never happen.

Back to the scenery.
We walked along Roman routes.....

Crossed dried up lakes....

Obediently passed through gates of dubious purpose....

Even though the instructions were clear......

We climbed glacial moraine....

Had a fairly close-up view of the glaciers....

And drank the cold mountain water.....but only when there wasn't a pression available!

  The village of Pralognan was very pretty, with many ski-chalet style houses on the hillsides.  Lew and I went for a walk and ended up carrying an elderly couple's shopping home for them up the hill - she admitted she'd got a bit carried away in the dairy aisle, and had enough yoghurts bulging out of the bag to supply the local kindergarten.

Unlike Provence, there was a distinct lack of net curtains to be seen, but they did a great line in shutter design.......

All in all, a fantastic week away.  You can't beat stunning scenery, good friends, lots of laughs, plenty of croissants........and a few pressions here and there!

Summer in Provence......

Summer is............
Learning through experience that the French have got it right - you HAVE to close the shutters during the day unless you want to fry inside your own house.  Air con is not normal for many rural homes.

Summer is...........
Spending 10 minutes each morning choosing which fruit to have with breakfast.

Summer is..........
Getting the clothes washing done in double quick time....and taking it in 15 minutes later, dry as a crisp.

Summer is............
Loving the security of the mosquito net at night.  Wishing that Yves Saint Laurent would hurry up and design a mosquito net Day-suit to swan around in, safe in the knowledge that I will not be adding to the current total of 32 bites.  Lew's tally?  Zero, but 2 stings on his head when something with poor aeronautical skills flew in between the gaps in his cycle helmet while he was on the way to get croissants.  Ouch!!

Summer is............
Finding the coolest place for a rest.

Summer is........
Watching future bottles of wine ripen on the vines.

Summer is..........
Thinking up yet more games to play in the pool, and not caring about the prune-like skin from constant submersion.

Summer is..........
Making sure everyone stays hydrated.

Summer is...........
Fighting the crowds at the market.  Worse than Nelson market on Christmas Eve.

Summer is...........
Checking the thermometer by the pool and admitting that maybe it IS a bit hot for a bike ride.

Summer is...........
Using visualisation techniques and memory recall to try and lower the body temperature; was it really THAT cold?!?

Summer is...........
Realising that the French are perhaps not quite as profit-driven as the rest of the world.  This loosely translates as:
"I don't care if it's the height of the tourist season and I could make my fortune in one week, everyone else is on holiday, so I'm going on holiday too".

Summer is...........
Discovering that just when you thought you'd eaten enough water melon, you find you can squeeze in just one more "wafer-thin" slice.

Summer is...........
Endless supplies of veges and stonefruit

Summer is...........
Sitting down in a cafe for a great salad of goats cheese, walnuts, figs, pine nuts, roquefort, and a goats cheese sorbet.

And at the end of the day, summer is............
Cooling down with one last swim before going to bed.

More sea and sunshine.

For our second week in England, we were staying in Lymington, on the south coast.  James and Lavinia had kindly let us use their English house, which is a lovely three storey townhouse right on the waterfront, and appropriately named The Sail Loft.  Lymington is a pretty coastal town, with cobbled streets and lots of interesting shops and pubs.

There's a very active harbour, so there's always something to watch while sitting outside the pub, whether its the local branch of the Lambretta scooter club, or the children catching crabs in their nets.  This is the view from the pub garden...

And this is what you see entering Lymington...

Mum and dad came down on the second day, and we took the ferry over to the Isle of Wight - very easy.  We turned up with the car 40 minutes before our sailing, and were pushed onto the earlier boat, leaving immediately!  30 minutes later we're on the island.
The place we all wanted to see was Osborne House, which was Queen Victoria and Prince Albert's summer residence, so we went straight there, arriving as the doors opened at 10am.  Well, I've seen many National Trust historic houses in my life, but this was far and away the most interesting, stunning, beautiful, and all the other superlative words you can think of.

We learnt a huge amount about their lives from the very informative guides in each room.  Most of them stand quietly in a corner, available for anyone to ask questions, but not actually offering any information un-asked.  Lew soon cottoned on to the best approach - enter the room, go and park yourself down next to the guide, and say "so, what can you tell me about this room then?"!!  I'm sure by the end of the day when the guides get together for their de-brief, the conversation would have been about the Kiwi bloke who asked the most questions!
I think one of the reasons why we enjoyed the house so much was because it was all so personal.  Unlike most historic houses that have been handed down through generations, with many differing tastes and styles, additions and demolitions, this house was built for V and A, was furnished and decorated by them, used by them for 50 years, and then passed on to the Government when Vicky died, about forty years after Bert.  So everything had a story, a clear history, and gave a great insight into their lives.
So now I've got you interested, bring on the photos..............sorry, no photos allowed inside!
However, here are a couple I've pinched from the internet!

The drawing room - not sure about all the yellow?

The Durbar room - check out the ceiling!

The Bird's Eye view

Beautiful gardens outside, with views looking down towards the sea, and their private beach.

The grounds were fully of ornaments and sculptures, with a particularly friendly looking wild boar....

And the frequently seen sight of a naked toddler wrestling with a goose..........obviously Victorian children found different ways of entertaining themselves in those days!

Having worked our way around the house, formal gardens, walled garden, ice house, the children's replica Swiss log cabin, and the museum of their collections, plus the private beach complete with bathing machine....it was 3pm.  Five hours in an historic property is certainly a record for me, but enjoyed it all, and recommend it highly.
James and Lavinia said we could use their bikes, so after much pumping up of tyres, and raising of seats and handlebars to the max, we pedalled off on the Solent Way which runs along the coastline towards Bournemouth.  Quite strange riding without a helmet on, as it's not required in England, but it was all flat walkway or country roads, so soon got used to the wind in our hair!
During our ferry across to the Isle of Wight we had views of Hurst Castle just off the coast.

This was built by King Henry VIII, to protect the coast of England from invaders sneaking up the Solent.  It is built on a spit a bit like the Nelson boulder bank, with a stony track leading out to the castle in one direction.....

and back to Milford on Sea in the other direction.

We gamely tried to get out to the castle on the town and country bikes, but had to abandon them about 1/4 of the way out as they weren't up to the challenge.
The castle has obviously been hacked around a bit over the years during various World Wars, so isn't a great example, but the lighthouse was beautifully maintained.

It was very calm on the harbour side, with plenty of small craft anchored up, or coming and going.

Lymington is part of a National Park called The New Forest, but it seems like a bit of a misnomer - the surrounding country was very open and flat, with lots of gorse, which seems to be regarded as an attractive addition to the landscape.....Lew kept saying "they need to get a good spraying programme going here"!  However, as always in England, there were plenty of pretty villages with thatched cottages - we stopped at this one to get a closer look at the wildlife on the roof.

A fox and a squirrel, both made out of thatch!

The main "attraction" of the New Forest are the wild ponies, which roam freely anywhere they want, including across the road at inopportune moments...(poor photo, taken from inside the car!)

They are supposedly owned by "commoners" who live in the New Forest, and are rounded up and counted every now and then, but as far as Lew and I were concerned, they looked like a nuisance more than anything else!  We saw them scratching on someone's car in the car-park, causing traffic hold-ups on the roads, and leaving large piles of fertiliser outside many garden gates and driveways!  However, they've been there for about 2000 years, and as tradition counts for everything in the UK, I'm sure they'll be there for another 2000.

So, after a very enjoyable two weeks, we are now back in Le Thoronet, where it's 36 degrees in the shade every day, and our increase in use of the pool is exponential.  We are managing to get work done but only in the mornings, the afternoons are for hiding inside with shutters closed, the fan on, and I have even found that lying on the stone bathroom tiles is the best place for reading my book! Long may it last!