Leg 4: Ardeche, cheese, Allègre, Le Puy-en-Velay, Gap

Leaving le Puy de Dôme with sore legs, we travelled up and down beautiful mountainous roads and into cheese land. Since moving to France, I’ve tried so many different cheeses but never really knew where they came from save for my husband’s beloved raw milk Camembert de Normandie. 

I’d tried and enjoyed St. Nectaire, Mont d’or and Fourme d’Ambert, Bleu d’Auvergne but it is so much more fun when you can visit the places where they are produced. As we headed down the steep road into deep canyons, the air was bracing and scented with dry pine needles. 

It felt like home. Canada. The mountains. Home.

Which brings to question just what home means to me anyway. I’ve lived in France six years now, blah blah and if I were you, I’d be kind of tired hearing the same old love story. The thing is, life evolves and layers are revealed in my being, or perhaps, layers are formed. Some are transparent with half remembered memories of the last time I lived in Europe as a young woman. Others are black memories, bitter ashes of difficult times. There are also fresh recollections, like the soft inner rings of a tree, protected by a crusty old bark.

Suffice it to say that if you pay attention, life is like sedementary rock. Pressure and time, combining, transforming individual memories into a matrix. The layers may trap fossils that are eventually revealed through erosion. As I breathed in the brisk mountain air scented with coniferous resin, the memory of driving up the coast to Whistler came flooding back to me. It made me even a little homesick for Canada in that moment, but it also made me smile.

This is what France allows me to experience. This is what the privilege of being able to travel while we are still both young and healthy enough allows us to do. I’m very grateful for this time.

Mont d’or and St. Nectaire

We drove right through Mont D’or but decided to stop in Saint Nectaire, which is, ok, at least for now, my all time favourite cheese in the universe.

In Saint Nectaire, there is a little cheese museum and for the price of entry you’re supposed to have a tour and a tasting, but in fact, it’s just a fancy tourist trap. If you really like cheese, look up the names of a few cheese farmers and go visit them directly. We ended up buying some Saint Nectaire in a supermarket and it was only 16€/kg instead of the 22€/kg they were charging in the cheese museum. 

Anyway, Saint Nectaire is a cute, steep, sleepy village with nothing open and paid parking at the church. We wandered around, went into the church and then left. We’d parked a little below in a free parking lot but if you have a rig longer than 7meters, you won’t get up the hill because the curves are tight and the road is really narrow. There are signs so don’t test it.

After a long drive, we finally arrived in Allègre to visit some friends.

We arrived at our friends’ home just outside of the small town of Allègre and parked below their house. These are old friends of my husband’s and they live in a small house that is in the middle of renovations. With two adults, two kids, three huge itchy and jumpy dogs and several cats, the tiny house was already full. Then we arrived.

We spent almost a week with our friends and went on mushroom hunting jaunts, and little trips around the area. I worked as well. We ate a lot of boiled kale, potatoes and soup. Our hostess made a wild mushroom tourte and I taught the kids how to made homemade pasta. We shared our salami and Normandy butter and the kids inhaled everything in one sitting. Clearly, kale wasn’t all they were craving.

We spent a week there, sleeping in our van and I seriously don’t know where the time went. Everyone had their routines and we were treated with warmth, and genuine, simple hospitality. These are true friends and it is comforting to know that at any moment, we could show up and they wouldn’t skip a beat. “ Sit down, we’re having some soup. Join us. “ true friends, loving welcoming and a warmth of spirit and love that touched my heart deeply. I’m so very glad I met them.

We left with as little fanfare as we arrived and headed into a small village to buy meat and salami. Ahem. 

Then we went to le Puy-en-Velay. This is an amazing medieval town with an incredible chapel perched right on top of the core of an eroded volcano. We climbed to the top, which was so much easier than that bloody volcano. 

Go there. It’s cool. That’s all I really need to say about it. You can park in the supermarket parking lot across the little river and walk into town. 

After doing some grocery shopping and me finally finding an organic store to buy some new deodorant and to replenish my secret stash of chocolate, we headed east and found a cool little spot tucked below another volcano.

Gap

We, drove to Gap, or rather a little further to Lac Serre Ponçon to see our lovely friend Laurette formerly known as t J.P. We stayed another four or five days where we slept in his house, did laundry, hung out, went mushroom hunting, I taught a course, and finally worked out some of the kinks around setting up my mailing list for this blog.

Lac Serre Ponçon is an artificial lake and the level is so low, it reminded me of a rapper with low slung pants and a plumbers crack. I could see the lake’s underpants and believe me, it wasn’t pretty. I hope it rains soon so the lake can pull up its pants a bit. We said our goodbyes once again and headed to Nyons, France’s premiere olive growing region.

Visiting people is lovely and it’s also nice when we leave and head out for the next adventure.