We've been keen to get out into the surrounding country and go for some good walks, so we started off the week with a walk around Carces, a village not far from us here in Le Thoronet. We went walking with Leanne, who used to house-sit here at Les Fadons, and Jeremy, an English neighbour who lives just up the road from us. Jeremy has an amazing knowledge of all the local tracks, and despite being somewhat older than us, and getting over a broken ankle 6 months ago, he gets along at a great pace and makes an excellent walking guide. It was a mixture of woodland track, lakeside path, village road, and alongside the irrigation channels. These channels are man made little canals which divert the water from the rivers to the vines, and there's a huge network of them all over the region.
This photo was actually on a walk the following day. Lew and I decided to walk to the village to see how long it would take to get our croissants: last week Lew got there on his bike in less than 10 mins. Walking along the roads took us 30 mins, but to come back we decided to follow the irrigation channels home. All went well until we were about 800m from the house, when we came across 3 large red signs in quick succession "Acces interdit" or "no entry". Being good Kiwis, confident of our riparian rights, we carried on, until we got to a chained and padlocked gate which was obviously protecting a private garden, very close to their house. Not so confident now (and having seen a huge number of men with guns about the place recently, supposedly hunting pigs, but largely standing around talking, or sitting around a camp table drinking red wine at lunchtime!) we decided to follow a goat-track nearby through the woods. 800m turned into a couple of kilometres detour through the woods, but we got there in the end, by walking across the vineyards opposite the house.
Obviously the middle of winter at the moment, so the vines are bare, and make the fields around here look very brown and stark.
The vines are in varying stages of being pruned, with varying degrees of skill, in our novice eyes! Some look as if the stalks have just been snapped off, rather than pruned with secateurs. Certainly there are some beautifully kept vineyards around here, and some that look decidedly untidy.
On Tuesday we went to Lorgues, the village 10 mins drive from us, which has one of the best markets around. Even in the middle of winter, when the market is relatively small, we couldn't get a park in any of the car parks nearby, and ended up parking on the road on the outskirts of the village. Within 10 minutes it was snowing on us, so we retreated to a cafe with Brian and Leanne. Lorgues is such a lovely French village, we went back on Thursday to have a good look around in the sun. Prepare yourselves for the start of many "typical French village" photos that will appear over the next year...we just can't help ourselves, there's a photo opportunity at every corner!
And no French travel blog is complete without a few "doors, letterboxes and knockers" photos thrown in for good measure!
And then of course, there are the fountains....
Other than walking around the country and villages, we have been getting to grips with the upkeep of the property here at Les Fadons. Brian and Leanne came round one day and gave us thorough and detailed instructions on the pool pump and maintenance, operation of the ride on mowers, strimmers etc. We've sealed the roof of the chicken palace, so hopefully they are keeping dry out there tonight. We're getting a couple of eggs a day now, so they're starting to settle in.
Other than that, we're all keeping close to the fire, none closer than TuTu the cat, making sure he has pole position each day. However, he is still finding time to do his yoga poses, even in his sleep.....
One of the big excitement events of the week was the sighting of a very large "sanglier" or wild pig running along the boundary fence. Not only was it a surprise to see the pig trying to find a way into the property but it was the height of it. Over here pigs have legs like racehorses. It was as tall (at the shoulder) as a large dog. A big huntaway would have definitely been a bit short. I wonder if they have long legs to avoid the numerous thorns and spikey things that grow low on the forest floor? There are thorns known locally as Turkish Barbed Wire that will rip you to shreds with ease.
Pig hunting is a serious business here and you need to be well protected on your legs to survive. We haven't seen the dogs they use here yet but they must be pretty tough or better at avoiding the thorns than humans.
Hunting is also very civilised in France. We often come across hunters in full camouflage gathered at a road junction or clearing, standing around a fire with picnic tables, wine and food. Wondering what these gatherings were all about we asked the locals. Apparently hunting involves the hunt itself followed by a roadside picnic. The eating seems to last for several hours so if they don't shoot anything they certainly have a good time eating and drinking.
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