The thermometer on the window sill broke through my arbitrary barrier of 10° C (=50° F). with a dull sunlight and a north wind that you would hardly notice if you were headed south on your bike. So I headed south through dear old Albas up the road with lacets switching up the scrubby hillsides with I’m guessing absolutely zero change in grade for the whole 3 or 4 km of the climb to Sauzet. The same goes for the gorgeous climb up from Caîx to Crayssac. Who laid out these roads so perfectly? Was it a graduate of the famous grandes ecoles is the School of Bridges and Highways founded in 1716? The roadways are so narrow that I need to really pay attention when being passed since my sense of position has been slightly compromised by Old Betsy, my acoustic neuroma.
Mrs Snoutsworthy, she who delights in maps, pulled out the chart even for this ride we’ve both done a hundred times. Maps which, I must say, are worthy of the well- laid out roads. You have to see them to believe the detail. The scale is 1:25,000 and each one covers 9 miles x 12 miles. One inch = 320 feet. Best of all, the map notes many house names, lieux dits, and then the lieu dit is often marked with a small road sign too. This is a wonderful comfort for someone who gets lost in the bathtub.
The north wind was cutting my neck on the D45 while I recited Baudelaire’s poem Elevation to distract myself. But suddenly just before the Chateau de Cousserans there were the Thousand Virgins as I call this grove of poplar trees that is such a fine sight at this time of year, nude, no leaves, the sun low in the west bringing out the roundness and rosyness of their trunks. They often look virginal, these groves and you see them a lot, usually planted in what might be flood plains, often in odd triangles of left-over property. I’ve asked a lot of locals what they are for. Everyone tells me the lumber is basically only good for pallets, though the guy in Goujounac has samples on display of tongue and groove flooring. The owner’s son shrugged when I asked him if it really makes good flooring. “It is in fact popular,” he said.
Someone told me that it was traditional to plant a grove of poplars like this at the birth of a daughter. By the time she was ready to get married, a paysan would cut it all and sell it and add the proceeds as part of her dowry.
