A Soupente, dans les Montagnes bleues, la canicule frappait fort...Pénélope continuait de filer le lin de sa boutique, tandis qu'Ulysse préparait activement sa traversée de juillet...
Son sac le démangeait...il l'avait fait et refait plusieurs fois...(symptôme déclencheur chez le marcheur au long cours...)
L'horizon des Montagnes bleues le narguait chaque matin et bien qu'il ait épuisé les sentiers de moyenne altitude environnants, il sentait son addiction le démanger: il fallait qu'il reprenne la route.
Le compostelle passait à huit kilomètres de soupente, il eût été facile de remettre ses pas dans ses traces, mais il n'avait pas l'habitude de répéter deux fois le même itinéraire...
D'autres arguments le faisaient réfléchir: Juillet-Août est l'époque où les sentiers sont surpeuplés: il lui fallait dénicher un GR suffisamment austère et rébarbatif pour éloigner le vacancier, suffisamment désertique et "grands espaces" pour lui rappeler l'Afrique et ses paysages désolés, suffisamment de moyenne altitude pour que la canicule ne l'atteigne pas...
Il profitait de la fraîcheur des matinées pour parcourir son kilomètre de bassins et entretenir ses muscles longs...mais il fallait toute la fraîcheur enfouie derrière les volets clos pour supporter les 34 degrés de ce juillet torride.
Grand Tour du Mercantour ou Grand Tour du Larzac ? il avait encore deux jours pour mûrir sa décision, la liste des refuges et des gîtes d'étape était prête, il fallait qu'il décide de l'orientation de ses réservations.
Autant il craignait le surbooking dans le Champsaur, autant il semblait rassuré de rêver de La Couvertoirade et de la Cavalerie...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Des photos, on veut des photos du Larzac
De Pénélope
Bon, je m'attendais à celles de la Syrie, mais tu as oublié de t'y rendre, donc, pouquoi pas le désert du Larzac
As-tu au moins trouvé des points d'eau pour étancher ta soif?
Et une vieille cabane perdue sur les hauteurs pour y dormir?
C'est quoi? la couvertoirade?
Je ne l'ai pas vue dans le défilé du 14 juillet.
La cavalerie, si, magnifique, comme d'habitude.
Quand feras-tu le TDM à cheval?
Ou, à défaut, de dromadaire, tiens, dans le Larzac, tu aurais fait sensation, et les touristes auraient pu te jeter des sous, ce qui t'aurait permis de me payer pour avoir tenu ta boutique durant ton absence, et avoir veillé jalousement sur le plateau où se jouera le futur film.
Et c'est Tinitrane qui serait contente de passer à la caisse.
Bon, tu as rencontré quoi au juste dans cette belle contrée? des aigles? des serpents à sonnette, des fourmis géantes?
toujours impatient et curieux de suivre les aventures d'Ulysse, je te fais passer un compte-rendu qui date un peu, mais qui pourra t'intéresser:
Loin de l'univers des geeks:
il avait quitté il y a plus d'une semaine les contreforts de la Bouquetière, laissant sur place son matériel informatique: la guerre des geeks battait son plein: les trolls sautaient d'un forum à l'autre, menacant et hurlant, le climat devenait malsain.
"le geek adore se réfugier dans un univers imaginaire, c'est un adulte qui n'a pas vraiment envie de grandir.." explique Alexandre Astier, créateur et acteur de Kameloot...
Le terme "Geek" est un mot d'allemand ancien.Il désignait au moyen-âge le fou du village, puis le monstre de foire à qui on lançait des cacahuètes (David Peyron, le N.O du 9 juillet 2009)
A force d'être scotchés derrière leurs écrans, les plus atteints en viennent à faire une croix sur la vie, qu'ils appellent IRL (in real life)...On les appelle des "no-life"...
Pour s'éloigner des écrans et de l'ambiance Tolkien de ces forums complètements geeks, Ulysse avait trouvé la bonne formule : marches au long cours, in "real life", et piscines : à l'issue de quarante bassins, c'était comme s'il venait d'en fumer une ou de se faire une ligne( bien qu'il n'ait jamais ni fumé ni sniffé de sa vie...) et ces bouffées d'oxygène étaient vraiment IRL ( in real life)
Foin des geeks et des trolls, il irait donc dans la vraie vie égrener les pelouses désséchées des Grands causses.
" En été, les vents peuvent être désséchants, la chaleur torride sur les plateaux, la végétation d'allure steppique et les pelouses(topo-guide de la FFR) "
il avait vaincu l'estremadure en juillet 2007, il vaincrait le Larzac en juillet 2009...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉heureusement, je suis assis devant l'ordi, sinon, je serais passé sous la table, MDR.
Là, j'ai tout compris, pour une fois
la réalité dépasse la fiction.
Continue, mais ne t'étonne pas si les geeks te tombent dessus à bras raccourcis.
T'inquiète, on sera là.
Le dilemme du randonneur: quel tour du Larzac choisir?:
Quand on lit les guides et les cartes du Larzac, guides qui vous proposent parfois le Tour du Larzac en plus de 20 jours de randonnée sur plus de 1000 kms2, on est étonné finalement de l'étroitesse du grand causse...
Coincé entre le Gard, l'Hérault et l'Aveyron, écorcé vif par l'autoroute Millau-Montpellier, le Grand Causse peut être contourné en huit ou dix jours...
D'ailleurs, les rédacteurs de guides ne s'y trompent pas: ils vous proposent :
- soit la traversée du Grand Causse en passant par La Cavalerie,
- soit le tour du Larzac Sud,
- soit le tour du Larzac Nord,
Si l'on additionne ces différents itinéraires, on obtient 9 jours de grande randonnée(20 à 24 kms par jour) où sont donc passés les 11 jours restants promis par les guides de la FFRP ?
Comme toujours, Ulysse allait improviser à partir d'un point fixe un circuit en boucle;il choisirait la gare de Millau.
Les gares, dans ses itinéraires, restant l'endroit où poser sa voiture, le temps de la randonnée...
Il allait partir des Montagnes bleues, rejoindre Millau en coupant par le Puy-en-Velay et Mende. Il rejoindrait l'autoroute de Clermont à Millau à Séverac le Chateau et poserait son véhicule devant la Banque de France, à proximité de la gare...
La canicule ne décolérait pas, il faudrait doubler les rations d'eau et, comme en Andalousie et en Estrémadure en 2007, partir le jour pas encore levé, à la lampe de poche, le sentier repéré la veille.
Ulysse ne croiserait pas de Tartarins fous, ils s'étaient réfugiés dans les Monts du Cantal, dans l'Aubrac ou dans le Mont Aygoual tout proche...ou bien avaient rejoint les Pyrénées, cause canicule...fuyant la chaleur et les steppes désséchées...
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Qu'est-ce qui c'est passé avec mon post que je t'ai envoyé, je ne suis ni une geek ni un troll, juste une amie de Georges. Je demandais gentiment un rôle dans ton Odyssée intergalactique. Ce serait sympa. Bien à toi.
😉Mais, l'Odyssée intergalactique, sera sans doute dans Marocco, t'inquiète, tu l'auras ton rôle.
Tu veux quoi? être figurante ou vedette?
c'est moi qui gère, tant que je n'aurai pas touché mon chèque, et je prends la direction des opérations avec beaucoup d'autorité.
😉Alors comme celà, tu te garres devant la banque de France, à côté de la gare................................
Attention de ne pas te faire prendre dans un braquage............
Bien ton récit, j'y suis allé dans le Larzac, sur des hauteurs style steppe, je ne sais quel vent souffflait ce jour là, mais glacial.
Notre belle France, et quand on pense qu'on a toujours envie de parcourir le monde, voir d'autres endroits..........
Il me manque l'Alsace à mon palmarès.
Le Nord, Lille, etc.........
je te remercie de l'attention que tu portes aux scenarii inter-galactiques sur un autre post, je te promets que tu seras dans le prochain casting, à condition que tu passes les tests de vol inter-spatial et que, bien entendu, tu les réussisses, mais mon copain Georges m'a confirmé que tu étais un pilote confirmé, à toi de choisir désormais la planète et le vaisseau...
Sur la planète Larzac, Ulysse en a encore pour une dizaine de jours, il m'a fait parvenir ce bout de carnet de son long périple:
le dilemme du randonneur(2):
"partir marcher en laissant Emily seule sur ses chantiers"
Ulysse avait confié, il y a six ans déjà, la céruse de meubles anciens de son grenier à deux artisans-décorateurs qui, en fait étaient de mignonnes décoratrices...Emily et bénédicte...
Elles avaient transformé, sous sept couches de céruse, d'horribles meubles de grand-mère en commodes modernes et "bar américain"...
Ulysse avait découvert chez Emily une amatrice d'arts et de vieux livres.
Souvent, il s'arrêtait dans leur atelier pour parler de toute autre chose que de couches d'apprêt et de vernis au tampon.
Cer soir, la veille de son départ pour son fameux trek, Emily lui avait proposé de découvrir avec elle la gastronomie d'un restaurant cosy du village, resto qui ne désemplissait pas depuis deux ans...
Ulysse avait rangé son sac une nouvelle fois, fait l'inventaire de ses réserves d'eau et de provisions de bouche, consulté la météo à huit jours avec indice de confiance 5/10,
il ne désespérait pas de prendre la route après la soirée promise avec Emily.
Il avait cependant, à tout hasard et très contre-indiqué entre deux kilomètres de bassins nautiques-départ arrêté, mis une bouteille de Vranken brut grande réserve au frais...
Il parlerait d'arts, de Kahlo et de Neruda et peut-être de bien autre chose avec la belle décoratrice aux ongles bordés de peinture à l'eau...
Tout au long de la soirée que je ne vous raconterai pas, Ulysse découvrit en Emily un champion anti-crise toutes catégories: elle avait quitté son associée, monté sa propre boîte de déco, refusé de négocier le moindre forfait avec son inspecteur et, depuis trois ans déjà, les banques et les institutions se penchaient sur cette entreprise qui ne connaissait pas la crise...
A deux heures du matin, quand elle quitta Soupente, elle lui glissa dans le creux de l'oreille:
"quand tu reviens de ton trek, tu m'appelles?"
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Ulysse petit veinard, n'oublies pas d'appeler dès le retour de ton trek, ces quelques mots glissés dans le creux de l'oreille ne s'oublient pas.
Je suis ravie de faire partie de ta grande aventure intergalactique j'ai si peu l'occasion de voyager qu'un départ pareil me rend toute chose et, le plaisir de connaitre le " Grand Maitre Yoda " les oreilles m'en sonnent encore.
A très bientôt.
Bonne journée.
il me semble avoir croisé ton profil sous un autre avatar sur la planète AB2...mais il se peut que je me trompe, ton homonyme venait de la planète Patland et avait quelques idées bien arrêtées sur le tourisme dans les ex-républiques de l'ex-union soviètique, is'nt ?
tu ne vas pas le croire, mais l'expérience du Larzac devrait t'apporter plein d'enseignement dans la perspective de nos prochains vols inter-sidéraux, la recherche de l'eau ou des traces d'eau par exemple... comme dans la page qui suit:
Dilemme du randonneur (3) en juillet :le surbooking des gîtes :
Ulysse avait passé l’après-midi du dimanche à bloquer son itinéraire en égrenant gîtes d’étape et hôtels autour du grand canyon…
Curieusement, il avait réussi à boucler la liste de ses réservations, hormis la première où le premier gîte du trek était vraisemblablement fermé pour « extension et travaux »…
Le problème est que le gîte suivant était à 26 Kms dans une région accidentée et désertique et que ce dernier gîte, c’était celui de Monredon, annonçait « complet »…
Certes, canicule et météo aidant, il aurait été possible de bivouaquer dans le « pays des grands espaces « aux austères solitudes grises et pierreuses qui se déroulent à l’infini… »(guide de la FFRP) mais Ulysse redoutait le problème de l’eau en cette période de canicule.
« En effet, précisait le guide, l’eau s’infiltre dans le sol mais manque cruellement en surface… »
Il avait découvert dans le Haut Languedoc que les robinets des cimetières de campagne pouvaient dépanner à la rigueur sur des parcours austères, mais il n’y avait pas de cimetière de campagne sur le parcours…
Ulysse se souvenait avoir bu l’eau d’un réservoir pour chèvres dans les Alpilles…
Il allait tirer à la courte paille l’itinéraire de sa première étape et s’en remettre au bon dieu des randonneurs : l’hospitalité des paysans du Larzac, dont il avait lu qu’ils avaient mené une lutte acharnée pour récupérer sur l’armée les étendues désertiques de leur grand causse.
Au pire, on retrouverait ses os blanchis au soleil et dévorés par les animaux sauvages aux premières avancées de l’automne (JOKES) Les GEEKS, shootés à la vie drôle, n’auraient qu’à bien se tenir…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Bonsoir Tomas,
certainement un homonyme. J'ai été un temps Patand, non Patland, et je n'ai jamais visitée les pays des ex-républiques de l'ex union soviétique, donc jamais eu d'idées bien arrêtées là-dessus. La planète AB2 connait pas . Georges te diras 2 ou 3 choses à ce sujet.
Pationnante aventure que la tienne dans le Larzac, pays désolé et sauvage. J'attend de voir comment Ulysse va se sortir de là pour trouver de l'eau source de toutes vies. Mais il a plus d'un tour dans son sac, on ne retrouvera pas si vite que ça ses os blanchis au soleil, ni dévorés par les animaux sauvages. Oui les Geeks n'auront qu'à bien se tenir.
Georges, mon agent à AB2, m'a pourtant confié que c'était bien toi, nous allons pouvoir mettre en route les procédures de mise en vol de ton vaisseau spatial, tu n'as plus qu'à choisir le carburant (imagination-délire-humour-recul-sagesse...) enfin, tu vois que tu as le choix...
Avec Georges, les délires sont assurés, l'humour est obligatoire, par contre, aucun des carburants n'est remboursé par la sécurité sociale.
Mais si ces vols finalement sont assez chers, ils valent leur pesant d'or et sont surtout très bons pour la santé mentale...
Georges a du te fournir les procédures anti-geeks, lis les attentivement avant la mise à feu de ton vaisseau spatial et n'oublie pas d'activer les fire-walls...
(6) De Millau au Moulin de Corp par les gorges de la Dourbie :
L’hôtesse de l’office de Tourisme de Millau m’a déniché un gîte dans les gorges de la Dourbie, au pied de mon itinéraire : je n’aurai pas à le modifier et la mise en jambe, par temps de canicule, se fera au fond des gorges fraîches d’une rivière à canoë : j’ai toujours remarqué qu’il y avait une chance à improviser…
La bonne dame du Gîte que je réservais m’a même demandé ce que je prenais pour le petit déjeuner : thé ou café ?
Les premiers seize kilomètres se feront à l’ombre des causses ruiniformes de Montpellier-le-vieux : les rochers erratiques prennent des formes de vieux châteaux hantés ou d’animaux mythiques, ils s’écrasent parfois en énormes blocs au creux du torrent…
Je profiterai de la halte de midi pour dormir sous l’un d’eux, au milieu des mousses, avec des parfums de champignons…
Tout au long des gorges, des cris et des appels de canoéistes, des couples de baigneurs amoureux, une eau verte et profonde, des rapides étroits, des rives escarpées, beaucoup de hollandais, c’est à croire qu’ils affectionnent ces endroits perdus, loin de toute autoroute, aux paysages désertiques, aux canyons profonds comme en Ardèche.
Les gens du crû préfèrent la fraîcheur de leurs pergolas et la pénombre de leurs maisons profondes, les cabanons sont fermés, nous sommes en semaine…
La société de pêche locale nous rappelle qu’il convient de respecter les alevins, au moins jusqu’au quinze avril, et la reproduction amoureuse des truites…
Roquemaure le vieux : Ulysse n’est plus qu’à deux kilomètres du Moulin de Corp : il reviendra dans l’auberge commander un sandwich pour la journée du lendemain..
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Je ne suis jamais allée dans la région de Millau, ce doit être super beau, on doit se trouver sur une autre planète avec toutes ses gorges, ses falaises, il doit y avoir des grottes qui ont bien dû abriter maintes de nos ancêtres préhistoriques, ces rivières et torrents où les amoureux de la nature et les autres aiment à y canoter. As-tu emmener assez de vivres avant que d'arriver à l'auberge commander un sanwich pour le jour suivant. Et l'eau où l'as-tu trouvée avant d'arriver à la rivière ?
😉A Millau, tu as le fameux viaduc, architecture très stucturée.
Il faut faire un voeu en passant dessous.
Le voeu que rien ne te dégringole sur la tête!!!!!!!
tu croyais quoi!!!!!😏😏
"as-tu emmené assez de vivres et pour l'eau, comment as-tu fait??"
j'ai toujours un vieux saucisson d'auvergne avec moi, quelques barres de céréales, et surtout mes bouteilles de O, 5 l(multipliées par deux pour la circonstance)...non, mais tu as raison, le ravitaillement sur le Causse est un problème, il faut prévoir à J+ 2, car les supérettes ne courent pas les rues, ni les restos d'ailleurs, on en parlera à La couvertoirade)...
mais pour le moment, il y a deux restos à Roquemaure le vieux(un des deux tient un gîte le soir et en profite pour fermer) donc ravitaillement obligatoire à Millau, de précaution..
Mais Ulysse ne pense qu'à Eliane, l'hôtesse du Moulin de Corp:(joke...)
Eliane, une surprenante hôtesse (7)
Moulin de Corp (KM 16- nationale 991)
L’office de tourisme de Millau m’avait dérouté vers un gîte non répertorié au fond d’une gorge au pied du grand causse…
Je ne voyais pas arriver le Moulin, ni le trouvait sur ma carte IGN, quand il m’apparut au détour d’un ravin, le plus beau moulin du monde, avec un bief de retenue, une dérivation encore en activité…
Toutes fenêtres et volets clos, pour cause de canicule, et une vieille dame aux cheveux blancs, en train d’égrener des groseilles dans une grande cuisine fraîche, au son de France Musique…
Parisienne cinq mois par an, meunière le reste du temps au fond de son canyon, avec tout le charme, la gentillesse, l’hospitalité généreuse d’une vieille dame qui croque la vie à pleines dents…
Je me suis assis à la grande table, elle a tenu à m’offrir à boire et nous avons conversé comme de vieux amis : j’ai tout su de son moulin, de sa famille, de l’histoire de son moulin et du village…
Elle a tenu à me montrer la turbine et les machineries de son moulin, autonome en électricité, où les vieilles poulies et axes à moudre le grain avaient été transformés en axes de générateur moderne…
Elle se demandait si elle n’allait pas revendre son trop plein de production électrique à EDF, regrettant de ne pas avoir à l’utiliser et à la rejeter dans une sorte de « machine infernale »…sans en tirer profit.
Elle m’a tant donné que je lui ai offert mon journal du jour, journal parisien à elle « parisienne du causse ».
Je suis sûr que demain, à l’aube, nous deviserons autour d’une tasse de thé avec des toasts grillés à la groseille et au cassis de son jardin…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉Mais, dans Obélix et Astérix, tu as assurancetourix, donc, se prendre quelque chose sur la tête, c'est déjà prévu au programme.
C'est pourquoi les Gaulois attendaient avec impatience de se prendre le ciel sur la tête, non, ils n'avaient pas peur, ils espéraient toucher des indemnités.
Ils adoraient le gui, mais ce qu'ils n'ont pas dit, c'est qu'ils en buvaient en infusion, pour être malades, histoire de récolter des pépettes.
Et leurs dolmens qui leur servaient de lieux de prière..................Dsl, là, je suis en manque d'imagination, mais le bon Père Tomas, qui fréquentait les nonnes autrefois, trouvera bien une chute salutaire à mon histoire.
Pour trouver ton moulin? tu n'a pas le GPS?
Et sache que Collerette ne boit jamais d'eau, sinon, coupée avec de la vodka de fabrication secrète et de qualité exceptionnelle.
Donc, si tu l'emmènes en ballade avec toi, tu sais ce qu'il te reste à faire.
😉Merci beaucoup, et justement, Tomas me disait hier: "c'est fou ce qu'il y a comme visiteurs sur les carnets, mais presque jamais de commentaires.
Donc, tu ouvres le chemin hardu du Larzac, pour ceux qui voudront faire la promenade avec Tomas, ils vont transpirer!!!!!
Au fait çà prend un h ? hardu?
La rentrée en Septembre me verra sur les bancs des écoles, pour une révision de l'hortaugrafe
Euh, orthographe.
Mais, quand il va commencer son carnet de voyage intergalactique (Tomas), là, çà va pas mal délirer.
Et tout ceux qui voudront prendre la route de l'espace pourront choisir leur planète.
Alors, on invitera les frères Bogdanov pour le reportage.
Alors là ma chère Arrawak, si les Bogdanof sont de la partie, je fais agrandir ma soucoupe volante qui sera un peu juste. Je vais y mettre un salon de causerie où nous pourrons deviser sur les énigmes inter-galactiques, les çeusses fadas qui admirent déjà les célèbres frères seront les bienvenus. Vodka Zubrowka à discrétion. Que pour les gens de goût.
j'ai bien peur qu'on entre dans une phase de turbulences, trollées ou geekées, c'est selon. J'espère que BINE et DUNE ont ouvert leurs fire-walls...leurs boucliers thermiques et leurs gousses d'ail maraboutées...de toute façon, Ulysse continue son bonhomme de chemin sur le Grand Causse, avec les encouragements de ses spationettes, ou spationautes, c'est aussi selon...
Où l’on grimpe sur le Grand Causse plus vite que l’on en descend…(8)
Du Moulin de Corp, on peut gravir le Causse(dénivelé : 400 mètres) plus vite que l’on n’en descend…il s’agit en fait d’une piste de VTT (descente) utilisée lors de certaines compétitions et qui est en parfait état pour un randonneur…
On émerge très vite du canyon, au dessus de Montpellier-le-vieux et là, le vent décoiffe… finies les chaleurs caniculaires des gorges, c’est « Hurlevent-sur-causse » : les orages pyrénéens ont rafraîchi l’atmosphère des vents d’ouest : c’est un paradis pour randonneur.
Les stéréotypes tombent : foin des steppes désertiques, le GR (sentier de grande randonnée) suit des sentiers de chasseurs : Ulysse va même lever un aigle royal, lourd à prendre son vol, et puis, c’est la première « lavogne » à Sot, après la ferme des Mares, aux abords du village, près des pacages, une dépression d’argile pavée, qui recueille l’eau de ruissellement et sert à alimenter les troupeaux…
Juillet est bien entamé, et la capacité de la lavogne est en portion congrue.
L’eau sourd de toutes parts dans les résurgences au pied du Grand Causse et ses habitants des hauts peinent à la retenir.
A Nant, où Ulysse couchera ce soir, les moines bénédictins de l’ancienne abbaye du XII ième siècle ont créé un vaste réseau d’irrigation de ces eaux claires et vertes, réseau qui fait le bonheur des pêcheurs de truites.
Randonneurs rencontrés sur les 26 Kms de l’étape : 4…Ulysse a eu raison de choisir le Larzac cet été.
La belle factrice de Liquisses le haut, à qui Ulysse donnera des cours d’extraction de sa camionnette jaune, va lui raconter le Causse et ses habitants mieux qu’un généraliste raconte les patients de son cabinet.
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
non, la Dourbie se jette dans le Tarn, d'ailleurs tu as pu voir une photo du Tarn dans une page précédente de ce carnet.
Quand on a lu Etchebarria, Bove ou Russell, on minimise les Modianos de la nuit, d'ailleurs, il ne reste que de la rosée au matin, les proses Le cleziesques ne s'essaient plus au cybernétique, on n'entend plus au loin que leur may-day répétitif: "empty-empty-empty"... il faut dire que la planète SPATEN11 est celle des grandes désolations, comme le sentier de NANT à la COUVERTOIRADE, rions un peu, mon bon georges...
Délices de crottes sur le Grand Causse (9) :
19 kms de sentiers séparent NANT de la COUVERTOIRADE. Malheureusement, comme dans les VOSGES quand on fait le GR des Crêtes, il faut remonter sur le Grand Causse après l’étape : dénivelé 300 mètres.
Ici, la pente s’étale sur 11 kilomètres. La route est désolée, la solitude du marcheur extrême, si ce n’était les animaux des bois qui parlent au marcheur d’une façon étrange : plus vous partez tôt dans les sentiers muletiers couverts de buis, plus la poussière des sentiers est jalonnée de leurs excréments frais….si, si, (je n’ai rien bu, Collerette, même pas de ta vodka…)
Comme si les animaux des bois voulaient nous dire :
« attention, cet espace nous appartient, respecte notre territoire »
Et comme chaque espèce a sa façon de faire, chaque petite crotte parle au nom de l’animal, révélant sa nourriture du jour ou de la nuit…l’état de ses intestins aussi…
Ulysse, qui n’est ni botaniste, ni zoologue, a vite compris leur langage secret et déchiffré leurs messages :
Ici, le cheval et son cavalier ne sont pas loin, tant le crottin est frais…
Ici, c’est le troupeau de moutons qui estive vers le Causse, égrenant ses milliers de petites crottes comme autant de billes de réglisse…
Ici, tiens, une vache, surprenant, les bouses de vache sont rares sur le plateau…
Ici, un lapin des bois avec indigestion de cerises sauvages, heureusement qu’il a refait les noyaux…
Ici, une crotte minuscule, fraîche, révélant par ses grains roses et bruns un amateur de baies sauvages rouges et brunes…
Le langage des crottes de sentier est un art véritable, voire une science et dans certains sous-bois, Ulysse serait bien en peine de mettre un nom au propriétaire de certaines crottes fraîches : putois ? renard ?
Il y a même de grandes tâches blanches d’oiseau des bois : hibou ? hibou grand duc ? caille ? perdrix ou simplement corneille ? grive draine ou grive licorne ?
Ulysse en perd le fil de ses réflexions…il est temps qu’il arrive au Gîte de la Couvertoirade.
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Tu a tout à fait raison Ulysse, quand on part de bon matin par les sentiers de cabris ou de brebis, on peut voir les traces fraiches d'excréments des animaux qui ont mangé la nuit ou très tôt le matin toutes sortes de bonnes choses, telles les baies de prunelles, de myrtilles, de cerises sauvages, et bien d'autres impropres à notre consommation mais dont les animaux raffolent. Je me suis promenée dans les Alpes et La Vanoise dans des temps anciens, disons lorsque j'étais jeune fille. J'ai vu des marmottes sortir le bout de leur nez de leur terrier, des lapins montrant leur petit derrière en courant, des chamois escaladant des rochers abrupts et sautant dans le vide en se demandant si ils ne vont pas s'abimer dans le vide, puis réapparaitre sur un bloc de roches 10 mètres plus haut, les oiseaux aussi qui nichent au raz du sol derrière de petits arbustes eux-même protégés par un rocher. Dans l'après-midi le vol majestueux de l'aigle qui repère sa proie en amorçant un virage et toujours tournant dans le même sens, nous laisse pantois dans un oh! de surprise. Oui mon cher Ulysse, la nature est belle et de bon matin surtout.
Petit Carcassonne des Causses, encore préservé des dangers du tourisme de masse, La Couvertoirade est un village fortifié datant de l’époque des Templiers et, curieux hasard, semble avoir résisté au temps et aux destructions de la guerre de cent ans…
Aussi les Institutions régionales et locales ont mis « le paquet » sur cet « écotourisme à vocation culturelle »…
Amandine, la conférencière du patrimoine qui nous prendra en charge pour nous faire découvrir les trésors cachés de son joli village vaut aussi le détour…
Ulysse était venu la trouver à l’office de tourisme pour se plaindre de la vétusté du Gîte d’étape local – il n’y a pas d’hôtel à la Couvertoirade – de ses toilettes condamnées et de ses douches interdites une partie de la journée.
Ils avaient déjà échangé sur l’odeur forte de la transpiration d’un marcheur de plus de vingt kilomètres … elle le reconnut d’emblée quand elle prit la direction de la visite commentée…
Elle était à l’image de son pays, avec un accent local que l’on aurait pu classer « au patrimoine régional » tant il était déjà chargé d’ail et de thym et qu’il était charmant chez la guide aux lourdes créoles…
Certes Ulysse suivait les explications savantes d’Art et d’Histoire, mais les hanches et le chemisier entr’ouvert de la belle conférencière lui faisaient perdre quelques bribes d’explications utiles à la compréhension : elle était belle, le savait, et qui plus est, ne manquait pas d’érudition…
Dans cet enclos culturel qu’est la Couvertoirade, les commerçants ouvrent aux heures d’affluence et de passage, le soir, le pauvre randonneur reste captif d’une petite crêperie « routardisée », où le prix de la crêpe permettrait à une famille bengali de se nourrir une semaine…(prix du menu en MP)
Derrière la table d’Ulysse, deux indonésiens et un anglais échangeaient sur les beautés du patrimoine aveyronnais et Ulysse n’en perdait pas une miette… il retrouverait le groupe au gîte, les indonésiens cherchant la direction de l’Orient pour orienter leurs tapis de prière…
Au petit matin, Ulysse, pressé de quitter ce gîte aux odeurs suspectes, confia le paiement de la nuitée à l’anglais, à charge pour lui de régler son dû au gérant du gîte : « confiance oblige », le Rosbif fut troublé qu’un français lui témoigne autant de confiance à cinq cents ans de la guerre de cent ans…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
"Oui, mon cher Ulysse, la nature est belle et de bon matin surtout",
Ciao Collerette,
malgré la canicule et les geeks, tu as le courage de suivre le randonneur sur le causse...il lui reste quelques étapes sur le plateau...ce n'est pas la Vanoise, mais la solitude de ces plateaux en Juillet est exceptionnelle, ce n'est pas aussi animé que sur le post de Marocco, mais ca fait du bien de respirer l'air de ces steppes désertiques, tu verras dans le texte suivant, qu'à force de respirer les "carlines" et les "boussières", l'esprit du randonneur peut se mettre à délirer...
Où Ulysse, ayant suivi une voie de chemin de fer désaffectée sur 11 Kms se prend pour un petit train(11)
De La Couvertoirade à l’Hospitalet du Larzac, sans doute une des plus belles parties de ce long trek sur le Causse, à cause des « boussières » fréquentes (chemins creux entre des haies de buis) qu’ont choisies les rédacteurs de ce Tour du Grand Causse (encore que NANT-LA Couvertoirade ne soit pas mal non plus…)
Mais ces brillants concepteurs ont pêché par faiblesse ou par paresse à 7 Kms de l’Hospitalet à partir de la Blaquerie…
Non seulement la signalisation du sentier laisse à désirer (Ulysse va perdre deux kilomètres à la retrouver…) mais le sentier débouche au PK 13 sur l’ancien ballast de la voie ferrée qui ne fut jamais ferrée : LE VIGAN-ALBI…
Ce projet titanesque du XIXième siècle qui devait éventrer le Larzac, comme l’autoroute Clermont Millau l’éventre actuellement, ne fut jamais complètement réalisé et surtout, ne fut jamais mis en activité…
Les déblais et les remblais, les collines éventrées, les vallons comblés, avaient été réalisés, les tunnels et les viaducs aussi… Aujourd’hui, chemins de chèvres, paradis des VTTistes, l’ancien ballast est devenu sentier de grande randonnée en direction de l’Hospitalet sur plus de sept kilomètres : Ulysse commence à se prendre pour le petit train du Larzac…
Qui n’a jamais existé…
Est-ce le thym ou la carline (fleur emblème du Larzac…cf.photo jointe) qu’il a fumés le long du parcours qui lui font cet effet ?
Des papillons de toutes les couleurs pollennisent chardons et fleurs des champs, les coquelicots ont réapparus dans les champs de blé.
Sur les murailles de pierres dressées par les hommes qui encadrent l’ancien ballast, Ulysse dérange lézards verts et autres bestioles bruyantes se chauffant au soleil et non identifiées…
Il est temps de rejoindre l’auberge de l’Hospitalet, avec ses 24 kilomètres du jour au compteur…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉Le rosbif, obligé dêtre aimable avec un Français.
Primo, ils ont fait brûler Jeanne d'Arc après cent ans de guerre.
deusio, le rosbif nous a envoyé la vache folle .
Normalement, il aurait dû payer pour toi...................
J'ai bien lu tout le texte, et la belle conférencière, elle semble t'avoir envoûté.
Et aussi la belle décoratrice..............
Faudrait peut-être te calmer un peu.
Sacré Ulysse au pays des merveilles............
Sinon, le cyclope "n'a qu'un oeil au milieu du front" va vouloir t'affronter.
tu sais que je ne comprend pas toujours tes allusions, surtout la dernière, celle de "l'oeil du cyclope"...certes, il m'est arrivé d'affronter la magicienne Circé, celle qui détournait les marins, mais, souviens-toi, je me suis enfui de la grotte du cyclope grâce aux moutons...
Sur le Causse, heureusement, il n'y a ni magicienne, ni cyclope, que des moutons, même si les femmes de chambre sont bien mignonnes, tu connais ton Ulysse...
L’auberge de l’Hospitalet du larzac : l’accueil chaleureux des jeunes femmes de chambre :(12)
L’arrivée à l’auberge fut épique : Ulysse, parti à l’aube du gîte précédent, arriva trop tôt à l’auberge de L’Hospitalet du Larzac : les chambres n’étaient pas faites…
La réceptionniste, toute charmante soit-elle, eut dû mal à lui attribuer un numéro de chambre définitif : ce n’est qu’à la troisième tentative et au troisième numéro attribué qu’Ulysse pu, après 24 kilomètres, enfin se doucher et se changer avant d’aller déjeuner…
Montant dans les étages, il tomba sur deux jeunes filles chargées du ménage, pas habituées du tout à voir cet espèce de client, poussièreux, harassé et sac à dos…
La monotonie de leur job en prit un sacré coup de Djeun, et quand elles apprirent les malheurs d’Ulysse au gîte précédent, elles n’eurent de cesse (formule grammaticale légèrement archaïque)
De le materner :
« vous allez pouvoir faire votre sieste, nous terminons les chambres de l’aile à 15 heures trente, il n’y aura plus de bruit d’aspirateur… »
« vous pourrez dormir jusqu’à demain matin… »
Quand Ulysse remonta de la salle à manger, rassasié, propre , frais et dispos, prêt à entamer une longue sieste, c’est elles qui l’empêchèrent longuement d’aller dormir, l’interrogeant sur ses étapes, leurs longueurs, les insolites de son trek, lui conseillant même gîtes et coups d’œil, du style :
« demain, c’est marché à Millau, il faudra que vous y arriviez avant I3 heures trente… »
« non, vous ne trouverez pas de ravitaillement demain matin avant quatre kilomètres…si, la boulangerie de la cavalerie ouvre à 7 heures…non, les journaux, il faudra attendre Millau…
Libération ? vous n’y pensez pas, La Dépêche du Midi, France-Soir peut-être…vous allez avoir la télé dans votre chambre, vous allez pouvoir savoir tout ce qui s’est passé dans le monde depuis dimanche…(on était jeudi) »
« ah, oui, le Tour de France, il est en Espagne…à demain, Monsieur, au marché de Millau ? »
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉Disons que le cyclope, serait celui qui n'y voit que d'un oeil, aveuglé par plein de choses, auxquelles il ne comprend rien.
Donc, à éviter en rencontre, on ne sait jamais, il surgit au moment où on s'y attend le moins.
à parler de Cyclope, tu me fais penser à la Sibylle de Dune, dont il fallait interpréter les oracles...tu mythes grave...heureusement qu'il y a les champs de tirs et les centres d'instruction...
La Cavalerie-Millau : Passez votre chemin : TERRAIN MILITAIRE :(13)
Le randonneur optimiste pourrait penser que la présence de l’aéroport de MILLAU-LARZAC à l’Hospitalet et le site templier hospitalier de la CAVALERIE portaient bien leur nom d’hospitalier…
Pas du tout, on entre désormais dans les champs de tir et d’instruction de l’armée de terre.
Randonneur, prends garde à ne pas dévier de ton chemin…
Les moutons sont enclos sur le Larzac, de la Cavalerie à Millau, le randonneur l’est un peu ou du moins en a l’impression…
Sitôt sorti de la Cavalerie, Ulysse s’était heurté à une balise militaire (alt.822 m) il avait du rebrousser chemin pour rejoindre et franchir la Nationale 9 et là, un magnifique chemin de terre avec tous les 200 mètres : TERRAIN MILITAIRE, d’un côté, LIMITE DU CAMP, de l’autre côté…
Ulysse n’en menait pas large …il se souvenait d’avoir pénétré par inadvertance dans un autre champ de tir dans un autre voyage et d’avoir eu l’impression d’entendre siffler les balles ou du moins d’avoir été ébranlé par les détonations lointaines…
Heureusement, sa carte d’Etat-major le rassurait sur les limites du camp ; il rejoindrait l’ancienne voie romaine, la route de GRAUFESENQUE, qui traversait le LARZAC Nord-Sud et figurait sur « les tables de Peutinger » et reliait Millau à Lodève.
Son itinéraire suit de très près la Nationale 9 avant de plonger dans la vallée du Tarn. Comme une bouée au loin, Ulysse aperçut les haubans blancs du pont de Millau (cf.photo ci-jointe) il sentait venir la fin de son périple, le vent soufflait fort sur le Causse, il lui faudrait quitter polaire et K.Way avant de rejoindre la chaleur caniculaire des canyons du Tarn pour entrer en tee-shirt dans les 34° de CONDATOMAGUS(Millau)
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
🙁Remarque, à marseille, un légionnaire vient d'être intepellé, pour un tir qui a déclanché un incendie, dont tous se seraient bien passé.
L'histoire ne dit pas, qui est le gradé au dessus qui en a donné l'ordre.
Surtout, qu'un légionnaire, en général ne prend pas des initiatives seul.
Tu as eu de la chance de pouvoir traverser ce camp militaire sans embûches.
Mais, la chasse va bientôt commencer, je sais que tu ne représentes pas un gibier de choix, n'étant pas comestible, sauf grillé à la broche, mais tout de même, fais attention.
Bien que tu ne chasse pas les biches en brâmant comme le fait le cerf..............
On ne sait jamais, les chasseurs retraités du 4 ème âge n'y voit plus très bien, et peuvent te confondre avec un lapin.
Je sais qu'avec un bon beaujolais, un lapin chasseur garni de champignons, de nos forêts, non atteints par le nuage de Tchernobyl, régalerait les plus fins gourmets;
ciao, arrawak,
hélas pour toi, je ne brame, ni ne clapis(le clapissement étant le cri du lapin...) il y a d'autres forums riches en brames et en clapissement, ici on ne parle que des malheurs d'Ulysse...
Où Ulysse détruit par inadvertance les photos de son trek et les reconstitue en une étape (14)
Ulysse ne maîtrise pas parfaitement le fonctionnement d’un NIKON Coolpix 10, 0 méga pixels, Wide Zoom 4x(28-112 mm) avec VR à ISO 3200 et 3.0 inch LCD… que Pénélope lui a offert pour son anniversaire.
Il commet l’irréparable en voulant redresser la photo d’une galerie Renaissance accolée à une courtine de La Cavalerie, il a mis à la corbeille les 49 autres photos de son raid…
C’était un trésor inestimable de moutons, de papillons de toutes les couleurs pollennisant des chardons bleus, des carlines, des crottes de lapins et de renards du causse, des « lavognes » en eau ou asséchées, des massifs ruiniformes et anthropomorphes…
Qu’à cela ne tienne, en une étape, Ulysse tentera de rattraper ses pertes entre La Cavalerie et Millau.
Le lecteur lui pardonnera de n’insister que sur « une courtine » de forteresse templière, »une crotte de mouton », une « lavogne », mais la bonne foi du tintin reporter n’est pas en cause, il ne s’agit que d’une énorme maladresse qui ne lui permettra pas de vendre son reportage à National Geographic ou à Lonely Planet…
Lorsqu’il rédigera son road book, il jonglera avec les 22 photos de l’étape, mais celles-ci devraient témoigner de l’extrême désolation des « solitudes steppiques » et des sentiers se perdant à l’horizon d’un causse qui mérite plus que la réputation d’un éleveur de moutons…
Ce causse est le paradis de centaines d’espèces d’oiseaux, de papillons et de fleurs, si l’on excepte les quatre races de moutons…
Ulysse lèvera d’ailleurs sur cette dernière étape un chevreuil, deux lapins, un aigle royal et des centaines d’oiseaux et de papillons, sans évoquer la boulangère bavarde de la Cavalerie…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Les aventures d' Ulysse me passionne toujours autant et si bien relatées. Dommage pour tes 49 photos perdues, c'est un sale coup. A ta place j'en serai malade. Mais tu finis toujours par t'en sortir au mieux. Boulangère ou pas.
😉Tu sais ce qu'il te reste à faire ?
Retourner au même endroit, retrouver les oiseaux, les papillons, reconnaître les crottes et refaire les photos.
Celles que tu as mises jusqu'à présent sont superbes.
on a envie d'y aller faire un tour.
Dommage que tu les aies perdues, et là, pas de corbeille où récupérer pour un appareil photos, mais tu feras attention la prochaine fois, de ne pas jouer à l'apprenti sorcier desq nikons de dernière génération................
"retourner au même endroit, retrouver les papillons, les fleurs et les crottes..."
ciao Arrawak TWD,
tu en as de bonnes, mais ton idée n'est pas si mauvaise, surtout que j'envisage d'entreprendre le Tour du Larzac méridional, qui ne serait qu'une suite logique au Tour du Grand Causse, mais en attendant, tu auras l'indulgence de lire le compte-rendu de ma dernière étape où tu verras enfin apparaître le panneau indicateur de Millau...
Millau, au fond du canyon : (15)
Lorsque l’on quitte La Cavalerie pour rejoindre Millau, on a le choix soit de suivre l’itinéraire du GR71 D décrit par le guide de la Fédération Française de Randonnées (FFRP) soit, comme Ulysse, si l’on est pressé de regagner Millau, de bifurquer sur le Causse après la ferme de Bouissan.
Plein Ouest, avec comme seul horizon, les haubans du Pont de Millau…
On gagne alors la ferme de La Jasse et, en I, 5 km, en suivant un chemin de terre parallèle à la Nationale 9, on atteint la corniche surplombant Millau.
Il n’y a pas de mot pour décrire les méandres du Tarn et la vieille cité romaine lovée entre eux.
D’ailleurs, un spot de parapente a choisi la corniche comme aire de décollage et d’atterrissage.
Il faut résister pour ne pas sortir son appareil photo toutes les cinq minutes et mitrailler le panorama somptueux qui s’offre à perte de vue : à l’Ouest, le superbe Pont, à l’ Est, les ruines de l’antique cité romaine des potiers de Gaufresenque…au confluent de la Dourbie…
Millau la romaine, Millau la médiévale, Millau la moderne, on comprend que ses habitants aient choisi d’orienter leurs activités vers le tourisme vert : « vaut le détour, ou le Dertour » mentionnerait le moindre guide de Voyages…
Mais pour le randonneur, après I25 kilomètres de tour de Larzac, la question qui se pose est : comment dénicher l’accès GR à partir de COMBETS et dans quel état arriver au pied du Causse ?
Car sur 2 kilomètres de dénivelé (400 m d’altitude) vous suivez un sentier de caillasses à vous démettre hanche et genoux : les muscles changent de braquet, attention aux glissades, la fatigue aidant, le poids du sac entraînant son porteur…
Mais MILLAU se mérite et quand, face au pont médiéval, façon Ponte Vecchio sur le Tarn(cf. photo) on se retourne et que l’on regarde le grand Causse, on murmure :
« je t’ai vaincu, Vieux Causse, »
Et l’on est fier de sa fatigue.
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
😉nous allons pouvoir faire notre prochain carnet de voyages ensemble.
Et avec moi, tu ne risques pas de perdre des photos.
Donc, je veillerai sur toi, comme tu veilleras sur moi.
en bons compagnons que nous sommes..................
Et pour escalader la montagne à 4000 mètres au Maroc, je prendrai un mulet.
Ou un chameau.
Super récit en perspective, je serai au RV, demain 6 heures, prépare ta voiture tous terrains.
Et n'oublie pas mon adresse.
le coup de la porte N°2 du cimetière de Champagne-bobo où tu m'avais donné rendez-vous, alors que je piaffais sur les tombes(en haut-relief) de la famille Neyron à gauche de l'entrée N°1 du même cimetière, était pas mal du tout...heureusement que nous avons pu rattraper le moment perdu...
mais, trêve de plaisanterie science-fictionnesque, je dois te confier qu'Ulysse a encore fauté sur les sentiers du larzac, j'ai réussi à me procurer les pages de son expédition du mois d'août:
Le tour du Larzac méridional : (1)
Il se l’était promis : puisque les rédacteurs des guides de la Fédération française de randonnées pédestres avaient partagé le Grand Causse : il en garderait une partie en réserve : c’est ainsi qu’il avait gardé pour le mois d’août le Larzac méridional qui s’étend entre La Couvertoirade et Lodève et dont le plus beau fleuron est le cirque de Navacelles…
Et comme il aimait partagé les belles choses, il emmènerait Pénélope avec lui…
Juillet avait basculé, Août était vide de projets, les geeks avaient repris leurs envois de scuds méchants (cf.TWD de Arawak) François avait été obligé de faire intervenir ses mods : les vents du Causse et les étendues steppiques seraient une véritable antidote aux pollutions numériques…
Ils partiraient du Caylar, à 7 kilomètres de la Couvertoirade, laisseraient leur véhicule sur un parking, oublieraient le temps d’un week-end très prolongé les soldes de leur magasin d’été et les soucis de Vincenzo, leur jardinier préféré, qui ne trouvait plus à tondre que des gazons brûlés et des pierres sèches qui s’acharnaient sur la lame de la tondeuse…
Vincenzo leur avait facturé six heures de rebouchage de trous et d’enlèvement de pierres sèches : les gazons et les jardiniers n’étaient plus ce qu’ils étaient…
Ils avaient glissé une grande enveloppe à destination du jardinier fantôme, s’étaient désespérés de la hauteur des grands buis cette année, avaient redressé quelques meubles de jardins bousculés par les orages de l’été, fermé à double tour et cadenassé le grand portail au bout de l’allée, et, leurs sacs bouclés, les provisions de bouche prévues pour résister à plusieurs jours d’absence d’épicerie de proximité, avaient pris les itinéraires bis pour s’éloigner des 5.000.000 de vacanciers de juillet août et des 850 Kms de bouchons cumulés…(record historique)
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
je suis surprise qu'Arrawak soit avec toi.Je croyais qu'il devait partir avec Grumpy...
ciao Collerette,
l'un n'empêche pas l'autre...tu connais la signification du mot "escapade"( en allemand, sturm quelque chose) eh bien, c'est exactement ce qu'il est entrain de faire...on en reparle si tu veux. Je suis content de te revoir fidèle au poste. J'ai su que tu avais eu des problèmes d'entretien sur un autre post, ca n'est pas grave, tu n'auras que du plaisir à suivre celui-ci, les aventures d'Ulysse et de Pénélope fleurent bon la nature et l'équilibre, il y a plein d'animaux et de fleurs, tu devrais être contente...
L’auberge du Caylar et son festival (2)
Les hasards du voyage laissent une large place à l’imprévu et font le bonheur du voyageur…
L’aubergiste de « l’auberge familiale » du Caylar avait bien pris notre réservation, mais s’octroyait le loisir de participer au festival de son village (sic…)
Elle ne serait visible qu’entre I9 h et I9 h I5, et elle nous prévoyait une nuit agitée, si, par malheur la météo étant mauvaise, l’atelier conteur était rapatrié dans la salle de l’auberge…
Ulysse et Pénélope n’y voyaient que du plaisir et aucun désagrément. Par contre, l’établissement attirait la curiosité des peuples migratoires(ces fameux « juilletistes »égarés sur des autoroutes bondées) les deux compères préférèrent traîner dans le village, passant d’atelier en atelier…dans ce curieux festival...
A l’atelier« rétrospective de Georges Brassens », le chanteur avait une voix de fausset à faire retourner le poète sétois dans sa tombe…
L’atelier de « sculptures sur écorce » était tenu par un couple de « 68/arts » anglo-français, dont ni le véhicule, ni les vêtements n’avaient connu de rafraîchissement depuis 40 ans…
Un atelier à vélo, intitulé « vélilavabo », espèce incongrue d’un vélo doté d’un lavabo et tenu par un barde poète, proposait de vous laver les mains en sophrologue…
L’atelier de théâtre de rue traumatisait de pauvres gosses de treize ans abandonnés par leurs parents qui avaient préféré le restaurant…
Finalement, la terrasse du bar des Platanes était « so much » avec tous ces anglais estivants du causse s’essayant au parler du Caylar, et tous ces caussenards s’essayant à leur donner la réplique dans la langue de Shakespeare avec l’accent de Mistral…
La bière avait des saveurs de pub irlandais et les accents étaient écossais : c’était un vrai théâtre de rue à 800 mètres d’altitude sur le Causse : Pénélope et Ulysse avaient revêtu leurs polaires…et le vent du Nord soufflait très fort sur le festival…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Escapade en allemand non ça ne me dit rien, n'ayant jamais appris cette langue. En français par contre dixit le dico : "Fait d'échapper aux obligations, aux habitudes de la vie quotidienne par une absence." Donc je comprend.
L'atelier conteur me plait énormément : souvenirs d'enfance. Le soir aux veillées autour de l'âtre chez les voisins ou chez nous, aux châtaignes ou aux feuilles de tabac fraiches séchées à enfiléee sur des fils, j'ai connu ça. Aussi bien dans la campagne toulousaine qu'au lac de Paladru dans l'Isère. Les histoires étaient racontées par les aïeules parfois en patois, nous les enfants nous comprenions tout. C'était magique. La soirée se finissait avec une grosse part de tarte paysanne cuite dans une immense poële dans la cheminée. Que c'était bon ! On s'endormait aussitôt après devant les tisons rougeoyants de la cheminée qui nous cuisait encore les joues. Nos parents ne tardait pas à nous rapatrier tout ensommeillés à la maison ou dans notre lit si nous étions chez nous.
Pardon pour cette digression, les souvenirs d'enfance sont des fleurs qui s'ouvrent au moindre mot, à la plus petite image ou à une odeur qu'on croyait oubliée.
C'est sympa tous ces ateliers pendant le festival. On trouve de tout , du bon comme du moins bon. C'est ce qui fait son charme.
Très drôle le bar des Platanes avec les roastbeefs s'essayant au patois du Causse et les Caussenards leur répondant en anglais avec l'accent chantant de leur région. Ce devait être à mourir de rire.
Pénélope ont eu bien de la chance de vivre cette aventure malgré leurs polaires, de vivre cette aventure.
Jolies photos. Pénélope est bien jolie et l'âne attendrissant.
Tu aurais pu tout aussi bien dire : « Pénélope est attendrissante et l’âne bien joli… »
En fait, on peut bien te l’avouer, on a fait une escapade à Carpentras pour visiter la célèbre bibliothèque ingimbertienne , son cabinet de curiosités… Georges rêvait de voir des incunables « in life », des in-quarto en in-folio, des mémoires d’aubergistes des siècles passés, des comptes de payeurs-généraux…
Sa curiosité a été servie, il n’en revenait pas, il n’aurait jamais cru que cette bibliothèque du XVII ième siècle soit si riche : il a même déniché des miniatures persanes et des cadenas de caravenserail…
Il m’a même avoué qu’il s’était désormais fait une raison : la liaison de l’évêque de Carpentras et du Pape Clément XII est un fait avéré, depuis qu’il a vu les mémoires comptables et les lettres manuscrites : la lettre de rupture du pape renvoyant l’évêque dans son évêché est inénarrable, il te la racontera certainement
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Tu m'en diras tant à propos de l'évêque et du pape. Ca ne m'étonne pas du tout. La lettre serait intéressante à lire ça je veux bien te croire. Je comprend ce bon Georges pour les incunables, ils sont très rares, très intéressants à regarder et à lire si on lit le vieux françois. L' image attachée que représente-t-elle ? serait-ce un cadenas de caravansérail ?
tu as gagné, c'est bien un cadenas de caravenserail, non daté, mais certainement très ancien. J'en ai une copie plus récente, mais fidèle...je te la ferai passer dès que ce bon Georges aura mis en place sa prochaine réunion de travail. Il en parle sérieusement. Il faudra qu'on en mette les modalités pratiques à plat dès le retour de son "escapade" avec ou sans Grumpy...
j'ai aussi une copie de miniature de Hafez si çà t'intéresse(in quarto 12 x19 encadrement artisanal sous-verre)
mais je n'en ai pas la photo...un peu le style de la pièce attachée...cà t'interesse aussi?
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Oui la miniature de Hafiz m'intéresse. Parles-tu du fameux poète lyrique persan où son tombeau se trouve à Chiraz ? Cette copie est magnifique, quelle précisions des détails, les doigts, le carnet ou ce qui en servait, la plume, les boucles de la coiffure, l'expression du visage. Tout parle. Merci Tomas.🙂
il serait temps qu'on revienne à nos moutons sur le Causse...on a fait un sacré détour...c'est toujours la même chose: on marche sérieusement, le nez dans ses sabots, et puis l'imagination s'évade et l'on décoit nos lecteurs...ils veulent des canyons du Larzac...
alors pourquoi pas un retable ?
Le Caylar-Soubes : première étape du Larzac méridional : (3)
Il ne faudrait pas quitter Le Caylar sans avoir longuement erré autour du porche de l’église.
Bien sûr, l’église est fermée, mais, si vous insistez, une dame de derrière ses carreaux viendra aimablement vous conduire, en passant secrètement par la sacristie, au merveilleux retable caché dans le bâtiment…
Manifestement, il a été rapporté d’une abbaye détruite, l’église datant du XIX ième siècle…
Il est en « haut-relief »(personnages se détachant des panneaux) polychromé sur fond bleu, à partir des éléments picturaux originaux.
Ce n’est pas insolite, mais c’est une merveille de retable d’inspiration romane provençale.
Et la bonne dame, érudite des érudits déjà passés, nous permit de regarder avec des yeux tout neufs les scènes naïves que les artistes sculpteurs du Moyen-âge avaient laissées pour nous…
Sainte Marie Madeleine ressemblait à une belle pénitente du XIV ième siècle et saint joseph n’était pas très loin des traits du charpentier du Caylar d’alors (cf.photo N° 2) et, curiosité des curiosités nous avoua la bonne dame, il est rare de voir la vierge couchée, alors qu’elle vient d’accoucher (cf.photo N° 1)
Les pieds d’Hérode étaient chaussés de véritables « chausses » pur XIV ième et leurs pointes auraient pu rivaliser avec de belles chaussures italiennes d’aujourd’hui.
Plus loin, sous l’autel, le père curé avait fait enchâsser une véritable croix de templier, labourée dans un champ voisin (don de l’agriculteur)….
La rando s’annonçait riche en beaux moments volés, en belles rencontres de chasseur « à l’approche pour le gros gibier », ou d’autres chasseurs retenant leurs braques allemands trop gourmands de petits perdreaux…
tomas
"il ne faut pas avoir peur du bonheur...c'est seulement un bon moment à passer..."
Vous avez eu de la chance tous les deux d'avoir vu ce magnifique retable provençal. Quand je pense que vous avez eu la merveilleuse opportunité de voir ce que ces artistes du moyen-âge avaient laissés, ce n'est pas donné à tout le monde. Magnifico.
Carnets de voyage › France › Sud-Ouest · 8 replies
On rentre tout juste d'un séjour d'une semaine dans la vallée d'Aspe, dans le petit village de Borce, pas très loin de la frontière espagnole. On avait posé…
Carnets de voyage › France › Sud-Ouest · 7 replies
Saute-Causses à vélo En cette fin juin 2020, nous reprenons des activités de plein-air, après il faut bien le dire avoir été un peu sonnés par cette pandémie…
Carnets de voyage › Espagne / France › Sud-Ouest · 85 replies
Après un voyage en Aragon et Navarre (2016) et un séjour express sur la Costa Brava (2017), nous sommes retournés en Espagne en 2019, mais cette fois l'Espagne…
Carnets de voyage › France › Sud-Ouest · 6 replies
Nous avions réservé un mobilhome à Saint Martial de Nabirat près de Domme, au camping Carbonnier pour 155 euros les 15 jours (2 semaines au prix d'une à cette…
This trip had been on my mind for about fifteen years.
But the discomfort of overnight stays, the difficulty of communication, and the prices of the few car rentals kept making me postpone the project.
And then, everything fell into place—I told myself, now’s the time!
Preparations took longer than usual; the destination is still far from mainstream.
A bit of Kazakhstan?
Not in the end.
The south or not?
Yes, in the end.
Pre-book or play it by ear?
Only two stops were a leap into the unknown.
To help me find the ideal route, I made great use of this forum (thanks to everyone for patiently answering my questions!), pored over travel journals and blogs (Christian, Jeff), zoomed in on Google Maps and Yandex, and bought the guide published by OunTravela on this destination (the guide has been updated since).
---/---
You’ve got your passport, international driver’s license, bank cards, and euros?
Off we go to Lyon—just one night left before our early morning flight.
Tomorrow night, we’ll be sleeping in Bishkek!
(‘Beefsteak’ for my partner’s mischievous nephews...)
March 2nd — Departure by bus from Latour at 6:50 AM. The journey isn’t direct: we pass through Elne then Corneilla. In Perpignan, I switch to a BlablaBus heading to Barcelona’s northern bus station. Before reaching Le Perthus, French police stop us to check IDs. Several people aren’t in order, but after about fifteen minutes, we’re on our way again. We’re checked again at La Jonquera: this time, the wait lasts almost forty-five minutes while police identify those in violation and wait for a vehicle to pick them up. The driver then tries to make up for lost time; we finally arrive at our destination half an hour late.
I quickly head to the Arc de Triomphe metro station, located 200 meters away: you have to cross the bridge along the bus parking lot, then walk through a large garden; the station is on the right before the garden entrance. The trip to the airport isn’t direct: I have to change at Tomasso and take the line to the airport, where I arrive at 1 PM.
At the Emirates counter, I learn my flight was just canceled due to the war in Iran; they offer me another flight for the next day. I have to wait at the airport until 7 PM before being taken to a hotel; the next morning, I’ll take a flight to Vienna (with an 8-hour layover), then an Air India flight to Delhi, and finally a flight to Kolkata. I agree: I don’t know Vienna, so it’ll be an unexpected discovery.
At 7 PM, a small group is taken to the hotel, 35 minutes from the airport, where we’re served a light dinner upon arrival.
March 3rd — A taxi picks me up at 6:30 AM; the flight to Vienna takes off at 9:30 AM and arrives at noon. I’m free until 7 PM; the metro is direct to the city center. The weather is pleasant and not too cold, luckily, since my clothes are light.
When I exit the metro, I spot the St. Stephen’s Cathedral tower in the distance and approach it: the roof, made of glazed tiles, is remarkable.
Entry is free, and the interior, a mix of Gothic and Baroque styles in the center, is stunning.
Not far from there is St. Anne’s Church
, also Baroque, adorned with beautiful frescoes
—a music concert adds an enchanting atmosphere to the visit.
I continue my walk at random through the pedestrian streets lined with magnificent buildings: I’m charmed by the city.
Before heading back to the airport, I stop at a lovely tea salon. My flight will eventually leave with a delay.
Wednesday, March 4th — Delhi and a little luggage scare
We arrive in Delhi shortly after noon. Immigration is quick, and good news: my bag was checked through from Barcelona to Kolkata. I head to the connecting terminal and arrive half an hour before boarding: the flight goes smoothly. Upon arrival, the luggage comes out quickly… except mine. After filing a report, I’m told my bag is in Delhi—I have to retrieve it before taking another flight. I didn’t know (or had forgotten): with the delays, I wouldn’t have had time to pick it up and make the connection.
I take a taxi to the Ichamati Hotel. The welcome is warm, and the room is clean but very small. Without my bag, I feel a bit lost—I have nothing to change into.
Tonight, I’m dining with Raja and his friends at a beautiful restaurant, an old colonial house turned into a hotel.
We’re happy to see each other and have a comforting evening together.
This travel journal summarizes a trip I took in March to Argentine and Chilean Patagonia. It starts in El Calafate and ends in Ushuaia. During my planning, I considered looking into the Australis cruise from Punta Arenas to Ushuaia, as well as the W trek in Torres del Paine National Park. In both cases, I was put off by the prices. Instead of the cruise, I found two interesting wildlife excursions from Punta Arenas: whale watching in the Strait of Magellan and observing king penguins in Tierra del Fuego. The journey to Ushuaia was by bus. For Torres del Paine, things were a bit confusing, so I reached out to two agencies. In the end, I went with a rental car option, overnight stays on-site, and day hikes. I shared my full itinerary with the agency and ended up being taken care of by a local Argentine agency and a Chilean one.
So, here we go...
This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style.
All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.
All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of a year at most in Thailand, and I’m no great expert.
However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.
I guess I wanted to deliver a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who feel nostalgic about it.
I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.
There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.
I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guardians for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.
Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course.
Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious.
Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big yard. Be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs.
It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t all that made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons.
That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though? Much rarer—they’re too big.
It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been full of holes for years.
You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the roadside, sometimes right on the road. When you approach, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, reminding visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.
Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. When you see a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you think twice about running into them at the edge of a field.
A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at death’s door in temples, enduring terrible suffering with no one to help. The image (and the smell) of one of them, agonizing and exuding the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.
Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The animal, well-fed, quickly became a happy and enormous beast with its own garden. Yet it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.
You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water there for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.
If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not just for fun—these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.
June 2024.
While hiking with my brother on the GR 36 Tour du Morvan, I catch sight now and then of strange rectangular markers fixed to tree trunks. Against a bright orange background, a deep black Greek tau topped with a white dove. My first encounter with the Assisi Way.
The Way of St. Francis: a pilgrimage route linking Vézelay in Burgundy to Assisi in Italy, covering nearly 1,800 km.
It felt like an obvious next step—I immediately knew I’d take it on, attempt the adventure solo.
In the months that followed, I talked about my project to everyone—family, friends, my partner. An avalanche of comments, more or less the same but varying depending on each person’s character and life experiences. But deep down, it all boiled down to one legitimate question: why?
And the answers?
Hesitant, awkward, partial, even confused. I quickly realized they weren’t so easy to find. It was as if my project seemed more like a whim, a kind of intimate caprice, rather than a well-thought-out plan.
Of course, I knew the reasons that pushed me to leave—you always have to give some. Loved ones need to understand to feel reassured, and that’s understandable.
But I fear that when I list them, they’ll sound like the same old checklist anyone embarking on this kind of journey might give.
Of all the reasons I could mention, I’ll highlight just one here: the call of the road, the solo adventure that brings a powerful sense of freedom.
A bit like Monsieur Seguin’s goat, who from her comfortable pen gazes longingly at the unconstrained horizon of the mountain.
But if I’m being honest, I think I didn’t really know what I was looking for—or, more importantly, what I’d find. Deep down, when I reflect on it, one word keeps coming up that explains nothing and everything at once: desire.
Now well past sixty, I know that when I ask myself who I am or where I’m going, two things bring me fully back to myself: hiking and writing.
And my intention was also to anchor this adventure through words, day by day. Writing down my feelings, emotions, discoveries, and reflections each evening. The famous travel journal that grounds the daily experience in reality.
When I discovered the app "Polarstep," which was initially just meant to keep my loved ones updated and reassured, inform them of my progress, and maintain a connection, I found an opportunity to do it a little differently than usual.
No retrospective notes polished up after returning, but spontaneous writing—recounting everything that crossed my mind during the day and publishing it immediately. A journey lived in real time.
This text is the exact transcription of my daily writings. Rereading them, I didn’t change a thing—just corrected a few mistakes and tweaked some awkward phrasing here and there. Short texts, fitting the format imposed by this kind of app. Writing as if addressing others.
Now, all that was left was to walk.
April 18, 2026 – Vézelay.
Here’s our account of our trip to Malaysia from September 11th to 27th.
I hope our tips can help others as much as this forum has helped us!
Day 0:
Departure from Nantes with a transfer in Amsterdam via KLM (720 €).
Day 1:
We arrive at KLIA1 in the early afternoon.
First challenge: figuring out where to pick up our luggage. Turns out the answer is right under our noses—we need to take the airport’s internal metro!
Once we’ve got our bags, we withdraw some cash from a Maybank ATM right there.
Next up: SIM card! Just outside the arrivals hall, several kiosks offer them. We go for a Celcom 5 GB card (70 RM).
Then it’s taxi time to get to KL, in the Bukit Bintang area—about 85 RM in a slightly old taxi with weak air conditioning.
We check into our Airbnb apartment, which is clean, more spacious than a hotel room, and—best of all—has a charming balcony with a gorgeous nighttime view!
We end up hanging out on that balcony, reviewing our plans for the next day. After dark, we take the monorail just a short walk away to enjoy our first evening on a rooftop at the 34th floor: Hélipad (Raja Chulan station—you have to enter the Menara Tower at the base of the station) with a panoramic view of the city and its iconic towers.
Finally, we head to Jalan Alor to grab a bite in this super busy street.
Big sleep ahead! 😴
After the summer of 2022 left me with a sense of unfinished business, here I am back in Swedish Lapland for the summer of 2024, ready to attempt the Sarek crossing again—and this time, tackle part of the Kungsleden too.
After much hesitation, my companion Jean Marie and I decided to start with the Kungsleden, which, from what we’ve read, is stunning but very crowded (and it really is!!), and finish with the wilder option: SAREK! This park is known as Europe’s last wild space—I think it’s incredibly inspiring!!
The downside of this choice is that there are no resupply options in Sarek, and the Kungsleden isn’t exactly set up for long treks either, so we’ll have to carry a lot of food for the first part with Sarek in mind.
But hey, we’re motivated!
Our plan is to start in Abisko (classic), head to Vakkotavare (also classic, but with some variations to avoid the official route and the crowds), then continue the Kungsleden from Saltoluokta. Before Aktse, we’ll set off on an east-to-west crossing of Sarek (weather-dependent, since aside from the Skarja hut in the center of the park, there’s no shelter if conditions turn bad).
At least we’ll be on the right side of the park to climb Skierfe and enjoy the jaw-dropping view of Rappaladen if we have to abandon the Sarek crossing.
That adds up to 17 days of trekking, including 1 rest day + 1 buffer day for weather delays.
So if you’re interested, I invite you to follow our overstuffed backpacks!
08/03 - Abisko – 5km before Abiskojaure
Some info (guides used for prep, SFT map, sending food to Saltoluokta)
08/04 – 5km before Abiskojaure - on the east shore of Lake Alisjavri
08/05 – East shore of Lake Alisjavri – just before Tjaktja
08/06 – Just before Tjaktja – above the Salka hut via Nallo
08/07 - Salka – just past Singi + side trip to Djalson Lake
08/08 - Singi – Teusajaure
08/09 - Teusajaure - Vakkotavare (end of the first section of the Kungsleden)
08/10 – rest day in Saltoluokta + round trip to the Sámi village of Pietjaure
08/11 – Saltoluokta – Sitojaure
08/12 - Sitojaure - Skierfe - So, Sarek or no Sarek?
08/13 – Skierfe – somewhere above Rapadalen
08/14 – Somewhere above Rapadalen – above the Skarki hut
Coming up:
08/15 – Above the Skarki hut - Skarja
After a pretty disastrous weather-wise trip to Gran Canaria, we’re hoping this time the sun will shine in Puglia.
It’s not a sure thing, though—the weather’s been awful all over Europe in early May.
For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.
Saturday, May 16:
This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us.
The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!!
The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.
We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).
About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli.
The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch.
We explore the property:
And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:
Sunday, May 17:
After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland.
After a hearty breakfast,
we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs.
We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.
We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).
From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.
Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.
Come along, I'm taking you to this country where it's so nice to wander and slow down...
This trip was in 2023, but when I wanted to write my travel journal, VF was still closed to contributions...
So, now that I've just finished my Japan travel journal here, I figured it was high time to honor this destination we came back from so enchanted.
Disclaimer 1: This is a written travel journal. There’ll be text! Too much, for some!
Disclaimer 2: This is an illustrated travel journal. There’ll be photos! Too many, for some!
I have to say, every time I try to discipline myself, to keep it shorter, to include fewer photos... I end up adding more. It feels like my dear Aunt Nicole, who exhausted us with her slide-show evenings in the 70s/80s, decided to take her revenge. The upside for you, readers, is that you can slip away anytime without offending Aunt Nicole. I won’t even notice!
Anyway, since I love maps, here’s one to give you an idea of where I’m taking you. As you can see, we only saw a tiny part of Laos (the areas circled in red); we only had 3 weeks for ourselves (my husband’s newly retired, I still work), and we prefer taking our time over rushing around like crazy.
In broad strokes, it was very classic:
First, we “settled in” at Luang Prabang (8 days), because we wanted and needed to.
From there, we took three days to venture a little further north—not far in kilometers, but as we know, distances aren’t just about km!
Then we flew south to Paksé, letting ourselves drift down to the 4,000 Islands while stopping by the pre-Angkorian archaeological sites.
We wrapped up with the Bolaven Plateau.
A few practical notes: We arrived via Bangkok, then took a Bangkok-Luang Prabang flight, having picked up our luggage in Bangkok to check it in for Luang Prabang. No issues—the Bangkok airport, which many of you know, is very well organized.
We got our visas on arrival in Luang Prabang. Quick, but to be fair, we were on a “small” plane, and the big flights had arrived earlier, so we weren’t too crowded in line!
At the end of our trip, we didn’t fly out of Paksé but from the nearby airport in Thailand, Ubon Ratchathani (a 2.5-hour drive from Paksé), then Bangkok and Paris.
You’ll notice we skipped Vientiane to stay longer in Luang Prabang. That said, there’s now a high-speed train between Vientiane and Luang Prabang—good to know—and soon the (Chinese) train will go all the way to Bangkok and even Kuala Lumpur!
With that intro out of the way, let’s dive into the heart of the matter.
To be continued: Slowing down the pace... in Luang Prabang
Here’s a little story about my first trip to Japan with my partner.
We went for our first visit from October 29 to November 13, 2024.
I had planned this entire trip back in November 2020, but given the health situation at the time, I had to cancel...
Here’s the classic route we took:
We booked everything ourselves and got a regional pass for the area from Kyoto to Hiroshima.
The hotels were reserved 3 months in advance on Book... and Agod... (1030 € for 2 people for 13 nights = 80 €/night).
For the flight, we chose a Qatar Airways flight with a layover to break up the long journey (950 € per person).
We also got a pass on the same site (Japan-Experience) to take the train connecting Narita Airport to Shibuya Station (the N'EX Narita Express).
Since the airport is 75 km from central Tokyo, we opted for this mode of transport, even though there are cheaper alternatives.
After reading various posts on VoyageForum, I understood how important it was to have a Welcome Suica card to pay for public transport (subway, tram, bus, boat throughout the country), and we were able to buy one at Narita Airport.
It turned out to be super useful!
After a long but smooth journey, we found ourselves at Narita Airport in the evening.
Even though we had a pass for the Narita Express, we had to go to a counter to make a reservation for the train (mandatory).
Then, once we arrived at Shibuya Station, we took the subway for 2 stops and finally reached our hotel, exhausted (Hotel Asia Center of Japan – 270 € for 3 nights with breakfast included).
I’m inviting you on a stroll through my drawings—a completely subjective, far from exhaustive, and totally personal take, since it’s based on my own sketches. I put this travel journal together after returning in late 2024, mostly using felt-tip pens and pencils, with a few collages thrown in. I worked from our personal photos.
Let’s start with the shotengai...
Our first "wow" moment came as we stepped out of the subway in Asakusa, the Tokyo neighborhood where we’d booked our hotel for our first five nights. Exhausted after our long flight, we finally arrived and took an exit that led straight into a shotengai—one of those covered shopping streets that pop up in city centers and flourished between the 1950s and 1980s.
It was an instant aesthetic shock, like a close encounter of the third kind between the modern city, a typical Asian market with its street stalls, the vintage vibe of the arcade, the sheer abundance of goods, and the bustling crowd—a mix of tourists, pilgrims (thanks to nearby Senso-ji Temple), and locals (it’s a very working-class area).
In the end, it set the tone for a feeling we’d experience throughout the trip. Wherever we went, shotengai turned out to be fantastic spots for finding little restaurants, shops, or even fresh produce. Some are like real mazes, like in Kyoto, where we spent ages trying to relocate a restaurant we’d loved ;-)
In Kanazawa, the Omicho Market:
And in Kyoto, Nishiki Market:
With my girlfriend Christelle, we’ve chosen South Africa for our first trip to Southern Africa, focusing on safaris—after a long debate with a Cape Town/Kruger combo.
But that would’ve meant cutting out St Lucia, which would’ve been harder to fit into another trip.
And St Lucia—thanks to Michel and all those travel journals—we really wanted to go there.
So our 11-night itinerary ended up like this, mostly shaped by school holidays:
- 3 nights in St Lucia
- 1 night in Hluhluwe
- 1 night at Mkhaya Game Reserve (Eswatini)
- 1 night at Hlane Royal National Park (Eswatini)
- 3 nights in Kruger (Berg en Dal / Satara / Tamboti)
- 1 night at Shindzela Tented Camp in the Timbavati private reserve
- 1 final night in Kruger at Lower Sabie
All of this in the off-season and rainy season, just a month after catastrophic floods that killed over 150 people and seriously damaged Kruger’s infrastructure.
I’ll jump straight to St Lucia and skip the loooong journey to get there (with a layover in Frankfurt, landing in Johannesburg, a domestic flight to Durban, and the rest by rental SUV—First Car Rental, perfect, no complaints).
To motivate readers—especially some familiar faces here—I’ll drop in a first photo.
If you're looking for great tips and offbeat spots, if you love exploring uncharted parts of a country, if the exotic is your adrenaline, then move along!
Our 15 days in early May in this part of Turkey (a country I first discovered during a city trip to Istanbul in 2017) will only tread well-worn paths and revisit popular routes. Simply because I kept hoping until the very end that our flight to Jordan wouldn’t be canceled. Events in the Gulf proved me wrong, so we left with:
Zero preparation.
Not a single hotel booked (well, except the first one), no visits planned, just a flight ticket bought three weeks earlier. No guidebook, no app—just the desire to explore southern Turkey and Cappadocia, whose images and the chance to stretch our legs had caught my eye.
Oh, wait—I did bring along a new guide: Gemini! Yes, my friends, generative AI was my chief advisor throughout the trip for sites to visit, accommodations, routes, and even restaurants! An experiment I wanted to try to form my own opinion on using this new technology. And what better way to test it than a Turkish getaway?
The verdict? You’ll have to wait for the trip recap to find out!
The main idea of the trip is also relaxation.
So, the plan is Antalya for a few days, the Turkish Riviera for a few more, Cappadocia as the highlight, and a return via Antalya to wrap up the trip. And it was all planned by AI!
So, if you're ready, fasten your seatbelts—cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check—boarding for Turkey now!
We went to Albania in August 2025.
Our itinerary included adventure (sporty activities, site visits), naps on the beach interspersed with swims, incredible natural sites, and a bit of culture.
I booked all our accommodations on Booking.com. Note: almost all places ask to be paid in cash!! You can obviously withdraw from banks, but the fees are pretty high. Luckily, we had plenty of cash, and the country is very safe. You can pay in euros most of the time, which avoids exchange fees.
We started in Tirana. I’d read a really interesting post about Albania’s bunkers (link in my profile). We chose to visit Bunk’Art with a guide from the agency that wrote the post. It was fascinating—not only to better understand the country’s history but also because her grandfather was repressed by the regime, and she shared her family’s experience with us.
Bunkers are everywhere! In Tirana, Bunk’Art is the most interesting and largest. You’ll see the dictator Enver Hoxha’s office, where he would’ve taken refuge in case of an attack on the country. Bring a sweater—it’s really cold in the underground tunnels and their huge corridors.
You can visit other bunkers around the country, in Tirana and elsewhere. Almost all are just abandoned.
The cable car up Mount Dajti is right next to Bunk’Art. The view is stunning—you realize Tirana is so close to the mountains and the sea... But otherwise, it’s not that exciting for older teens (17 and 19) and their parents.
We picked up a rental car in Tirana—it’d be ours for the next three weeks. We used Goalbania’s agency to avoid any hassles. First, there aren’t many cars available in Albania in summer. Second, French credit cards can be a nightmare abroad. So we preferred to sort that out in advance.
After Tirana, we headed to Permet. Just a heads-up: the roads are in great condition except in the mountains. And Albanian drivers aren’t stressful to deal with. Though you might suddenly encounter a herd of goats crossing the road—haha—but if you’re not going too fast, it’s fine.
In Permet, I’d been dreaming of rafting on the Vjosa, one of Europe’s last wild rivers. And we did it with a local agency! It’s beautiful, accessible to everyone, not too physical but still a bit lively—just how we like it. You can even jump into the river in some spots.
In Permet, we also hiked through a canyon and visited a lovely little church.
And we took a workshop to make their local culinary pride: gliko. It’s a jam with whole fruits inside. We’d seen it on Goalbania’s site, and it was really fun. We were with a family where the secret to making gliko has been passed down for generations...
Next, we headed to Gjirokastër. A city we loved: its old traditional houses (Skendulli and Zekate), its grand castle, the Ali Pasha Bridge. Along the way, we stopped for artisanal ice cream at a little shop run by a grandmother who’s been making it herself for ages.
One afternoon, my husband *had* to go to the coast in the south, to Ksamil (he’d read it was better than Sarandë). Verdict: we didn’t like it. Parking is a nightmare, the beaches are super noisy and crowded. The sea is packed with jet skis, boats, pedalos, and ropes. Avoid it.
On the other hand, we really liked Himarë, where we went next. We stayed at a campsite where we rented tents with mattresses and sheets inside. Right by the sea, on a low cliff (about 2 meters high). You can hear the waves at night... Magical!! To swim, you either jump straight into the sea (almost from the tent) or climb down a ladder, which you’ll need to climb back up to get out.
I was a little worried the campsite wouldn’t be very comfortable, so afterward, I’d booked a small place in Gjilek. Turns out, the place was really tiny (one room for four, no kitchen) and pretty expensive (over 100 € a night). We’d drive to the beach or restaurants—it’s on a steep slope, so not very accessible. Parking near the sea is tricky. But the (private) beaches were nice—we’d rent an umbrella not too close to the music and spend the day there. We also went to a wilder beach, harder to reach, via a long path. Behind the beach, there’s an amazing canyon where we’d sometimes climb using ropes (already in place, no need to bring your own) over big boulders rolled around by the stream, which must swell a lot in spring.
So, the sea in Albania: it’s nice if you like swimming and relaxing, but it’s not the most interesting part of the country. There are so many other amazing things to see and discover—so many stunning sites! Maybe an agency could’ve helped us find more practical accommodations and avoid Ksamil and its surroundings.
We left the coast to head to the beautiful city of Berat and its "thousand windows." We explored the city, its fortress, and its icon museum.
Then we discovered the Osum Canyon—it’s incredible. The view from the top is breathtaking. And at the bottom, it’s magical. There’s little water in summer, so rafting isn’t an option. We weren’t tempted by the big-tube descent offered by an agency—it looked fun, but the group had 40 people. We preferred hiking on our own as a family of four. We scouted the area on Google Maps... and found where to descend. We walked in the water, then it rose to our waists, then our shoulders... We weren’t moving fast. And how to get back up?? Eventually, we followed a group with a guide—the path was hard to find.
After that unforgettable hike, we visited the Bogovë Waterfalls. It’s pretty, and we swam, but the water was *really* cold.
We passed through Tirana again and then headed to Shkodër. We explored a bit—its charming little streets, the Rozafa Fortress. There’s a tiny museum where you can see *huge* Ottoman stone cannonballs. And they tell you the (charming) story of the young woman who was walled alive in the castle’s foundations to ensure its strength...
Shkodër is mostly a stopover to head into the mountains and discover Theth. Our goal: hiking in the Valbona Valley, from Valbona to Theth. We organized the trip ourselves, without an agency, but it took some time to figure everything out. So I’ll save you the trouble—haha. Book your tickets on the Komanilakeferry website. The ticket includes:
🙂 minibus transfer from downtown Shkodër to Koman
🙂 ferry ticket from Koman to Fierze. This ferry ride is *gorgeous*—between mountain slopes covered in pine trees, and sometimes a little house with a few fields...
🙂 minibus ticket from Fierze to Valbona. Now you’re in the mountains! The minibus drops you off near your accommodation—pick one as close as possible to the start of the hike (if that’s your goal!). The ones at the far end of the village add up to 1.5 hours of walking. Our choice: Guesthouse Dioni. The host is really lovely, it’s in the woods, and it’s basic but great.
After a day of hiking, we arrived in Theth. What beautiful mountains! Then we explored Theth and the surrounding area. It’s pretty busy, but you can still enjoy the Blue Eye of Theth and its swim. It’s *so* cold! But so beautiful!
🙂 minibus ticket from Theth back to Shkodër.
After a night in Shkodër, we drove to Kepi i Rodonit. A guidebook (I forget which one) raved about its beauty. And it *is* beautiful!
But the view is ruined by plastic bottles and other trash in the bushes, along the paths, and of course on the beaches. The only peaceful spot: the private beach at Kepi i Rodonit, which is cleaned. You can rent an umbrella and have lunch there. That’s where we spent our last few days—very relaxing.
In short... Albania turned out to be perfect for us and our teens!
I’m diving into a recap of our loop—pretty classic, really—Denver-Yellowstone-Denver this past summer, from July 24 to August 17. Given the sheer number of trip reports already out there (or in the works), and since I don’t have the writing chops or the photography skills of many of you, I’ll keep it practical—well, I’ll try, at least—to share our take on some of the less-visited parks and spots.
First off, a huge thank you to everyone whose trip reports, blogs, websites, comments, and more helped us put together this itinerary. Looking back, it could’ve been even better optimized: a few disappointments when we missed out on some great discoveries, often because we were short on time. Plenty of reasons to come back to the area!
We’re traveling with our four (almost) teens—18, 16, 14, and nearly 12 years old. To keep the trip enjoyable for everyone, we had to make compromises on both sides: cutting a visit short to spend more time swimming, waking up at dawn, and so on. But logistics also played a big role—things like laundry, grocery shopping, and keeping luggage organized could’ve quickly become time-consuming without a little planning.
And honestly, I think we visited every Walmart along the way! Blame it on the lack of fridges in some accommodations and, more importantly, the *very* limited space in the car, which made it impossible to bring a proper cooler. I’ll come back to the car saga later.
For accommodations, this year we alternated between basic cabins in KOA campgrounds and Yellowstone (when staying more than one night in the same place) and hotels. Always with a pool (except in Yellowstone, of course), which let the kids burn off energy—because they always have reserves, even after packed days!—and, let’s be honest, gave us a chance to relax. No Wi-Fi issues either; we all had plans with 25 GB of data (a big thanks to Gilles for the amazing deal at 0.99 €). It worked perfectly, even for texts and calls between phones—no extra charges.
Now, onto our route: as I mentioned, a classic Denver-Yellowstone-Denver loop. To avoid rushing through the parks or spending all our time on the road, we prioritized staying as close to them as possible, with at least two nights in each place. And I’ve got to say, it’s really nice to settle in, even if it’s just for two nights. It also helped us deal with the weather, which wasn’t always great during this trip. The trade-off? With vacation time being limited, some driving days ended up being long. We knew that going in, but since we kept a relaxed pace with no time constraints (don’t ask me for timings—I don’t keep track of the clock on vacation, except in the morning to get everyone up before noon!), we sometimes ended up with marathon days.
With that said, I’ll dive into the trip itself in the next post.
We all have two lives. And the second one kicks off the day you realize you only have one, with the determination to spend the time you have left on what truly adds sparkle to your life, Kevin! I like to elegantly introduce a trip with a philosophical quote. First, it gives you the illusion that I’m some kind of deep thinker, and second, it lets me fill up the first few lines of my blank page when I don’t know how to tell you I’m diving back into what really lights up my life: another adventure beyond the horizon! And nearly every other year, like a toxic relationship, my horizon tends to take shape in Uncle Sam’s backyard. And this, despite his cousin Donald calling the shots. Speaking of which, it was partly that impulsive guy who pushed us to be just as impulsive and snag our four flight tickets at a ridiculously low price—a direct result of foreign tourism taking a hit from BetaMax’s repeated antics... Four tickets? Who are the other lucky ones? In this case, our lucky ones are actually lucky ladies: My Flo, always up for exploring the world with me on foot, camelback, or scooter, is obviously in on the fun. The other two seats went to our daughters, Sasha and Luna, both thrilled to be part of this new American adventure...
But what’s the American West like in February?... A gamble. Let’s call it Russian roulette since we’re not landing during peak weather season. That’s why we encouraged our transportation and accommodation to get cozy and produce a little camper van, so we can stay ultra-flexible in the face of any weather tantrums. We’ll be roaming in Kara the van with the motto "Follow the sun!" Bad weather? We bolt. Snow? We speed up. Sunny? We act like it was the plan all along and soak it up.
"Okay, but why keep coming back to the same corner of the globe? After ten American adventures, you must be tired of seeing the same things, right?" But I’m not crazy, you know!... The American West is like making love to your gorgeous wife over and over, always enjoying it just as much. And contrary to what you might think, the American West isn’t just the Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Las Vegas, and Bryce Canyon. Proof is, after ten trips to the U.S., my retinas are still untouched by three-quarters of the places I scribbled on a napkin for this adventure... Oh, and add to that my wife, who I’ve easily converted to my religion, and boom... relapse is even easier! Because yes, we’ve landed in Los Angeles after a sunny flight over Greenland, still under Danish flag for now. And we’re already heading east through the XXL traffic of L.A.’s eight-lane highways, eager to dive into our first discoveries. But first, night is taking over the sky, and second, we’ve been officially awake for 24 hours, so I suggest wrapping up this intro. I’ll tell you more tomorrow morning. Sound good?
And we still haven’t seen everything!
Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.
I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.
As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!
Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.
So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:
Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)
São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...
Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.
And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...
That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)
Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!
Hello,
Since I enjoy not only the countryside but also everything related to rail travel, I’m starting this photo thread dedicated to trains in Thailand (I’d guess most of us have taken one at some point...).
Feel free to post your pictures here as long as they fit the theme: rolling stock**, stations**, platforms, tracks (even without a train on them), technical equipment, engineering structures (bridges, viaducts), etc.—all in Thailand.
For each photo, I’ll (or you can) note the station or line where it was taken.
Comments and questions are welcome.
As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I inherited my love of travel from my parents and some of my grandparents. A strong passion, but one that was unfortunately limited by our family’s modest resources. Back then, living in northern Alsace, a simple trip to the southern part of the region—with the Wine Route as our destination—felt like an extraordinary journey to a land of plenty for the little boy I was in the late 60s and early 70s.
Everything seemed so huge when you were still just a kid.
Back then, I was overwhelmed by countless sensations—I was already highly sensitive, with a keen mind and a nose and taste buds that were developing like a pro’s. Which, as I’d later realize, wasn’t always an advantage.
Those magical days always began with a gentle late-spring or midsummer morning. The interior of the white Peugeot 404, license plate 210 LZ 67, had already soaked up the sun before the engine purred to life, and the cabin gave off a scent I could still recognize today—a fragrance I found so pleasant. Back then, I had no idea it was just the smell of warm plastic from the car’s interior.
Yes, the scents of the 404 on sunny days became my madeleine de Proust...
What’s more, the whole family was unusually cheerful because those moments of relaxation and leisure were rare. Everyone worked, and no one had an easy job or was well paid. Without the *Trente Glorieuses*, these experiences might never have happened.
Once we crossed the canton’s borders, I felt like I was light-years away from my everyday surroundings, and every kilometer plunged me deeper into *terra incognita*. It was thrilling. Far from my so-called "medium-sized" town, wheat fields, cornfields, and cabbage patches stretched out, punctuated by tall poles connected by long wires and topped with vegetation—like giant clotheslines without laundry, where magical beanstalks might grow to touch the sky. Back then, I was still far from tasting their product, which was simply beer. At the time, there was still a significant local hop production. Fun fact: it wasn’t until 2002 that Anglo-Saxon scientists proved hops and cannabis belong to the same biological family.
After the fields, the landscape took another step up as it rolled past the little boy’s eyes, often glued to the windows. First came modest hills, then a succession of rolling slopes that soon formed an unbroken chain. Their 700 meters in altitude felt like Himalayan peaks to me—impressive, inert giants, a whole new world. Gazing at them, an intense emotion welled up somewhere between my stomach and lungs, nearly taking my breath away. What mysteries, what treasures did these heights hold?
And then there were the cherries on top—the crowning touch that made the scene even more magical: proud, majestic castles perched on the summits like impassive sentinels. Monuments from the past, yet firmly rooted in the present on their rocky spurs.
The little boy’s eyes sparkled—he’d been given a castle for Christmas, complete with battlements, towers, a drawbridge, and fully armed knights. He’d watched and lived *Ivanhoe* on the only French TV channel that existed back then.
Only once did my paternal grandfather join us on one of these trips. A tall, intelligent man with a face that could shift from stern to mischievous, clearly full of humor and charisma. Sadly, his relationship with alcohol had taken a toll on his life and, by extension, those of his loved ones. He had a strong personality—if his boss crossed the line, he wouldn’t hesitate to punch him, which meant he went through a lot of different jobs. Back then, you could quit one job and easily find another. It was quite something to see him in his final stages, hallucinating pink elephants and even drinking perfume when he had nothing else left. The last time I saw him, he’d slipped away from the doctors and nurses while hospitalized in pretty bad shape—at least, I assume his liver was the issue. We were sitting down for a family lunch when the door burst open, and there he stood in his pajamas, eyes twinkling with mischief, clearly pleased with the dramatic entrance. That theatrical moment didn’t spare us from burying him a few months later at the age of 71. One day, my mother told me the family doctor had quietly remarked that it was a shame—with his robust constitution, he could’ve lived to be a hundred. Yes, the family doctor—this was the man who’d come treat you any day, at almost any hour, just for a phone call. It really existed, it’s not a myth!
That day, his wife—my paternal grandmother—was also along for the ride. Everyone agreed that Jeannette was a good woman. She worked as a waitress at *Le Tigre*, the biggest brasserie in town, right in the center. Most customers preferred to be served by her, including local dignitaries and even the mayor. As a kid, I didn’t find her very fun, open, or warm—she seemed a bit stern. Back then, women in their fifties already had the face and build of grandmothers. Same went for men, don’t get me wrong. I had no idea about the struggles she faced because of her husband. I didn’t know that 30 years earlier, she’d had to flee Alsace while pregnant, under threat from Nazi fighter-bombers. I didn’t know she’d had several miscarriages, and that my father—her only surviving child, born prematurely in March 1940 at the other end of France—weighed less than a kilo at birth and was so tiny he could fit in a shoebox. Hard to imagine he’d grow into a strapping man nearly 1.80 meters tall, tipping the scales at 100 kilos.
When you come back from summer camp in early August and ask why she didn’t pick you up with your parents, and they gently tell you she’s "in heaven," you don’t realize she passed away at 54 after suffering greatly from stomach cancer that had spread.
Back to that family outing, that enchanted parenthesis. I even remembered where we’d had lunch when I passed through Dambach-la-Ville decades later. One of those charming, flower-filled towns Alsace produces in abundance—and preserves so well. This one sits high on a hill, and I was a bit stunned on the parking lot because the view stretched far, revealing the Alsace plain below—its fields, villages, hills, and forests. The world seemed so vast and enticing that day, even though I was only glimpsing a tiny fraction of it.
The region was already very touristy, but I wouldn’t notice the downsides until much later. That Sunday noon, I discovered a large restaurant filled with diners. I can still see the enormous piece of meat they served me, decorated with a little wooden skewer topped with a flag. I kept that one for a long time. Those were the golden days of rich, flowing, thick sauces—so flavorful—and the era of the world’s best fries, made on the spot with the best potatoes. To top it off, I was *exceptionally* allowed a small bottle of apple juice, Orangina, or—even better if possible—Sinalco. Yes, Sinalco—like Orangina, but better. A brand that must’ve disappeared in the 70s, but why, and what a shame! Since then, Orangina’s little bubbles have taken the brand to the other side of the planet—it’s now Japanese.
Year after year, I’d eagerly await that ecstatic moment when the most beautiful castle in Alsace, the Haut-Koenigsbourg, appeared in my field of vision. The perfect model, the archetype that blended into the landscape at the height of a child’s dreams.
The trip home always felt like a reality check—less jarring than an alarm clock, but more diffuse and melancholic. From then on, there was only one wish: *When do we leave again?*
Hi there,
Here’s a recap of a trek through the Balkans covering three countries: Albania, Montenegro, and Kosovo. I was with a friend, and we didn’t do the full route (only one day in Kosovo).
It was a wonderful trek through snow-capped mountains and vast flower-filled meadows, meeting incredibly welcoming people.
At the end of the travel journal, I’ll share what I loved and what I liked less.
Day 1: Flight from Paris-Beauvais to Tirana with Wizz Air.
Since Albania isn’t part of Europe when it comes to phone service (at least not yet! :-)), we had to buy a physical SIM card—otherwise, the bill would’ve been sky-high if we’d used our French plan! We got one from Vodafone AL at the airport. You can buy online before leaving with a virtual SIM (e-SIM) for compatible phones, so you don’t have to swap cards. But given the uncertainty about choosing a plan online, we preferred buying one directly at Tirana Airport. Cost: 31 € for 100 GB. That’s way too much—100 GB is overkill. For 40 GB, it’s 27 €, and the plan lasts 21 days. The price difference isn’t huge, and it was cheaper than online. This plan covers all the countries along the Balkan range.
Money tip: All guesthouses and accommodations accept euros. The local currency in Albania is the LEK. In Montenegro, it’s the euro. Bank fees for withdrawing money from an ATM in Albania are pretty steep: 8 € for a withdrawal of 600–700 LEK (about 200 €)! So it’s better to withdraw cash (euros) in France. Oh, and we booked all our accommodations before leaving, but payment is always in cash. Budget around 400–500 € for 9 days of trekking.
Then, a transfer the same day to Shköder, about a 2-hour bus ride. Cost: 10 € per person. Tickets bought directly on the bus. We spent the night in Shköder at a very clean guesthouse, Open Doors B&B. It had a small balcony overlooking the city.
I really liked Shköder, especially its pedestrian street lined with restaurants and lit up at night. It’s a great place to stroll and eat. The food isn’t expensive—two big salads and two beers: 14 € :-) . Fruit prices are also very reasonable: 3 € for a kilo of cherries, compared to 9–10 € in France.
Religions coexist peacefully in these countries—Catholics and Muslims. From our balcony, my friend heard the call to prayer for the first time, coming from one of the city’s mosques.
Day 2: Bus ride to Theth, about 1,100 meters in elevation gain, the starting point for our hike the next day.
The trip took 2 hours and 40 minutes with a break in the middle. The bus was affordable, but taxis also make the trip—though they’re very expensive.
We slept in the heights of Theth at a new guesthouse, "Mountain Vista Shkafi," with an amazing view.
The family was adorable. The husband is a handyman and built almost everything himself. Their baby is named "Sky"—such a cute name, right? :-) Throughout the trek, I found the guesthouses very clean, and the hosts think of everything—no need to bring soap or shampoo; they provide it.
Lunch in Theth at a traditional restaurant on the main road. We tried "Tave Dheu," an Albanian dish with beef, cabbage (very common), and cottage cheese. Delicious but not quite filling enough. For dessert, a honey cake that was perfectly moist—such a treat! Desserts like this are rare; sometimes they serve watermelon instead.
We took a small private bus for 5 € to the "Blue Eye" parking lot, then walked for about 45 minutes to reach a stunning natural site—a kind of lagoon with incredibly blue water. The bravest can swim, but the water’s freezing!
That evening, we dined at "La Montagne Blanche"—excellent! A delightful mix of grilled meats with potatoes and grilled peppers. Some watermelon slices (which I’m not a fan of) and the famous Raki, a brandy served in Turkey and the Balkans! It was my first time drinking brandy "bottoms up." 😉
I’d like to share my family trip to Colombia with kids aged 8. After spending hours browsing the forum and only having two weeks there, we decided to focus on two regions: the Coffee Zone for one week and the Caribbean coast for another. We traveled from August 8 to 23.
Day 1 – First stop: Bogotá
We arrived in Bogotá in the evening on an Air France flight—nothing to complain about, decent service, comfortable, and on time. However, the first night was a miss. We’d booked a hotel near the airport (Abitel Prime) for convenience, but the soundproofing was almost nonexistent; we heard planes as if we were on the runway. Luckily, exhaustion helped us sleep well anyway.
Day 2 – Off to the Coffee Zone and Salento
The next morning, we headed to the airport for a domestic flight to Pereira with LATAM. No issues: punctual and efficient, and in 30 minutes, we landed in Pereira. The landing already set a different mood: lush valleys, endless plantations, and humid air.
We picked up our rental car from Localiza. Unfortunately, the experience wasn’t smooth—the paperwork took forever, and the wait tested our patience. Finally free, we hit the road to Salento, one of Quindío’s gems.
We arrived in the late afternoon and discovered a colorful village bustling with artisan shops and cafés. Our first stroll helped us soak in the atmosphere before dinner at Bambú restaurant—a great surprise with careful cooking and local flavors. We spent the night at Casa Serafín, a charming little hotel, nicely decorated and well-located… but unfortunately very noisy.
Day 3 – The magic of Cocora Valley
This was one of the trip’s highlights. We set off early for Cocora Valley, famous for its giant wax palms, Colombia’s emblem. We chose the 12 km loop recommended by the *Routard*. The landscapes were spectacular: towering palms, rivers, suspension bridges. It felt like walking through a postcard. The weather was perfect.
That evening, we dined at Barnabé restaurant—pleasant setting, decent food, but the bill was a bit steep for what it was. Back to Casa Serafín.
Day 4 – Coffee and panoramic views
The plan was a visit to Finca El Ocaso. For 1.5 hours, we followed a passionate guide who explained the entire coffee process, from harvest to cup. Very educational, accessible for both kids and adults, all in a stunning setting. The tour was in English for us, and we translated for our kids, who aren’t bilingual yet.
In the afternoon, we climbed to Salento’s viewpoint. The valley view was superb. That evening, we ate at Veggie Garden, a simple and pleasant spot that was a nice change from the heavier meals of previous days.
Day 5 – Horseback ride to Santa Rita Waterfall
We booked a horseback ride with Cocora Magic. It was a real success: calm horses, a beautiful trail, mountain and meadow landscapes, and finally the refreshing and wild Santa Rita Waterfall. Without a doubt, one of the best moments of our time in the region. We even got a bonus ride up a 300-meter hill.
We then headed to Filandia, less known than Salento but just as charming. We spent the late afternoon enjoying the pool at MuchoSur Filandia. The hotel is beautiful, in an idyllic setting. However, we also had soundproofing issues and could hear our neighbors.
Day 6 – Rainy detour through Filandia and Manizales
Rain caught up with us in the early morning: torrents of water made it impossible to go out. We stayed at the hotel, reading quietly. By noon, the rain let up: a quick walk in Filandia, a quick lunch, then off to Manizales. We chose to stay at El Otoño hot springs. Great choice: as soon as we arrived, we plunged into the hot pools, perfect after hours on the road.
Day 7 – Hiking and hot springs
In the morning, we hiked the Camino de Super Coco (found somewhat randomly on Google). A pleasant trail with mountain views and a peaceful atmosphere. The afternoon was spent in the hotel’s thermal pools, with a short marked hike down to the river. Dinner on-site at the hot springs’ restaurant. A simple but very relaxing day.
Day 8 – Rain, jacuzzi, and games
We continued to Finca Los Alpes. The rain greeted us again, but this time it turned into an asset: nothing like a steaming jacuzzi with a view of the misty mountains. The kids enjoyed the facilities too: mini-golf, ping-pong, billiards. Dinner and night at the hotel, cozy vibes.
Day 9 – Off to the Caribbean coast
Back to the airport to return the car (still a bit long). Flight to Cartagena with Avianca: punctual and comfortable. Upon arrival, we picked up another car and headed straight to the Hyatt Regency, a modern hotel with a pool. That evening, we dined at the hotel—practical after a travel day.
Day 10 – Colonial Cartagena
We set off to explore Cartagena’s old town. It was enchanting: colorful facades, flowered balconies, colonial charm—just magical. However, the heat was stifling and very humid. Afternoon relaxation by the pool. Dinner at Gestlani, a good restaurant in town.
Day 11 – Road to Barú
A hearty breakfast, then one last swim in the pool before heading to Barú. We checked into Las Islas Hotel. The setting was enchanting: wooden cabins nestled in the vegetation, a private beach, turquoise sea, impeccable service. Dinner at the hotel’s restaurant.
Day 12 – Beach and relaxation
A full beach day in Barú. Warm water, white sand, coconut trees, peace and quiet. A real postcard scene with iguanas and birds.
Day 13 – On to Santa Marta
Another morning at the beach before hitting the road to Santa Marta. The drive was a bit long (6 hours), especially with traffic jams in Barranquilla. It was the longest car ride of the trip. We spent the night at Villa María Tayrona, a beautiful place near the park.
Day 14 – Tayrona Park
We left early for Tayrona Park. We entered through **El Zaino**, parked the car, and set off on a hike to La Piscina (about 2 hours). We stopped along the way at Playa Arenilla, a stunning little beach, to rest. Lunch on-site, a swim, then back by 4 PM. The hike was a bit tiring, but the nature was spectacular: dense jungle, the sound of waves, and even a monkey encounter along the way. Evening and dinner at the hotel.
Day 15 – Last swim and return flight to Bogotá
Our last morning was split between the pool and the beach (the hotel has direct access via a 7-minute trail through vegetation and flowers)—hard to leave this paradise. We drove to Santa Marta’s airport to return the car, then flew back to Bogotá. We spent the night at Casa Dann Carlton, a comfortable hotel. We simply ordered room service, arriving too late to go out.
Day 16 – Bogotá and the end of the trip
Our last day in Colombia. After a good breakfast, we explored La Candelaria. Its cobbled streets and colorful houses were worth the visit. We visited the Botero Museum (free) and the Gold Museum, both fascinating. Back to the airport for our 11:55 PM Air France flight.
That’s a wrap on a varied trip—lush mountains, colorful villages, dream beaches, and tropical jungle.
The pace was pretty relaxed, well-suited for our kids. They absolutely loved the trip to Colombia.
Driving in Colombia was very easy, and we didn’t regret renting a car at all—it gave us more freedom to get around.
If I were to do it again, here’s what I’d change:
- I’d spend less time in the Coffee Zone to stay a bit longer on the Caribbean coast, which was more relaxing for the kids. Or I’d head to Medellín, but I didn’t think the city was very kid-friendly.
- Bogotá is a city that deserves a day’s visit, but it’s not a must-see. Maybe I’d have taken the KLM flight from Cartagena to Amsterdam instead.
Since I didn’t have time to write a proper travel journal, I thought I’d share a few photos of Bologna—a really lovely city I discovered in 2017 while stopping on my way to Tuscany.
Around Piazza Maggiore, which was packed with a stage and chairs for a show, stands the Basilica of San Petronio, massive and Gothic in style, with an unfinished façade (a common sight in Italy).
Another building near the square:
But Bologna’s real charm lies in its porticoes, which were added to the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2021: 62 km of arcades running along buildings, letting you walk sheltered from the sun or rain. Back in 1288, the city required houses to include private arcades for public use. In the city center, you can stroll under 32 km of porticoes in all sorts of styles—some plain, some ornate—with a strong presence of red tones.
Okay, it wasn’t a total disaster either. Actually, I hesitated before starting this travel journal: is it even worth writing about a holiday that won’t leave an unforgettable memory?
In the end, I went for it (there aren’t many recent travel journals about this destination).
So, read on... or don’t .
Every time we’ve been to the Canary Islands, it’s been by default (basically: where can we go in winter or early spring when we only have a week—so not too far, not too much jet lag, but with decent weather?).
This time, we had two weeks, but the winter plan kept changing: first Thailand (dropped for personal reasons), then Martinique (dropped because of work leave dates that weren’t up to me), and finally, the Canary Islands.
We’ve already been to Tenerife (which we really liked) and Lanzarote (which we liked a little less).
This year, two options: Gran Canaria or one of the smaller islands west of Tenerife (La Palma, or even La Gomera or El Hierro).
We chose Gran Canaria... not sure it was the right call!
Whose fault is it?
Storm Thérèse’s!
Yes, Storm Thérèse followed us on arrival, and its effects lasted quite a while. We had to adapt, cancel visits, change activities...
But even without Thérèse...
Saturday 21/03
Departure from Orly at 6:10 AM with Transavia.
The plane took off on time and landed a little early, tossed around by strong winds before touching down.
It had just rained, but it was (almost) no longer raining.
We quickly picked up our luggage and then the car at the Cicar counter.
We got a Seat Arona instead of the Corsa we’d booked. Well, while the driving position didn’t feel great at first (I got used to it), the engine’s smoothness and power were much appreciated on the island’s winding and sometimes steep roads.
It was only 10 AM, and we couldn’t theoretically check into our accommodation until 3 PM (the owner promised to message me if it was ready earlier).
So, we headed to the (big) *Jardín Botánico Viera y Clavijo*, where we planned to spend a few hours.
We found a huge parking lot... empty.
The passenger in the car in front of us (yes, we weren’t the only ones at the closed gate—there was a car in front and one behind) went to ask for info: it was closed due to the storm 😕.
So, we calmly headed toward Puerto de las Nieves, on the northwest coast of the island.
The plan: go to a restaurant, visit the village, and do some shopping while waiting for early afternoon.
As soon as we got out of the car, it started raining... we took shelter under the awning of a shop, waiting for it to pass. But the rain turned into a downpour, and within minutes, awning or not, Gore-Tex or not, we were soaked!
Since we were already wet, we might as well go to the restaurant—they weren’t far! But here’s the thing: contrary to what Google Maps said, they all opened at 1 PM, not noon!
Back to the car, wading through 5 cm of water because all the village streets were flooded .
The rain let up, we did some shopping, went to eat, and I got a message from the owner saying the accommodation was ready 🙂.
So, off we went to La Suerte, a few kilometers north of Agaete.
The downside of the place, especially with luggage, is that you have to climb several flights of stairs via an outdoor staircase (after parking more or less far away on a steep street) to get there 😛).
Of course, on the way from the car to the apartment, it started pouring again—the bags got soaked!
Enough rain for today! We settled in quietly, and by late afternoon, we could (finally!) go admire the view from the terrace.
Trip Planning
My partner and I are heading to the Canary Islands for a week at the end of September, specifically to Lanzarote. We chose this island over the more crowded ones for its volcanic landscape and the variety of hikes it offers.
I booked everything through Expedia: our hotel stay, car rental, and Ryanair flight tickets departing from Marseille. It was the only way to get a direct flight. To make getting around easier during our stay, I picked a hotel located in the center of the island from the wide selection available. It’s part of the Barceló chain, specifically the "Barceló Teguise Beach Adults Only" in Teguise Beach, which turned out to be an excellent choice.
The Trip
Sunday, September 21 - Monday, September 22
Departure
It’s 2:15 PM, and we’re at the Avignon TGV station. Danielle picked us up earlier due to the weather—thunderstorms and heavy rain all the way to the station. The TGV was on time, and it only took 30 minutes to reach Marseille Saint-Charles. The shuttle to the airport is quick and convenient, right behind the station.
The bus leaves for the airport in the middle of the storm, with flooded roads and cars stuck in some spots.
We get soaked making our way to the terminal. Two hours to wait before the flight. The plane finally takes off at midnight, but just before landing, the pilot announces that the destination airport is closed, and we’re being diverted to Tenerife. Ryanair will re-route us as soon as possible.
We end up waiting 2 hours, and Ryanair kindly gives us a 4 € voucher.
We re-board around 5:15 AM and take off at 6:00 AM. About 45 minutes to reach Lanzarote. After collecting our luggage, we head to the car rental desk. The counter in the terminal is closed, and we’re directed to parking lot P4—it takes us a while to find it.
I’m a bit worried about the rental company’s reaction since the car was supposed to be picked up 7 hours earlier, but it’s not a problem. A woman next to us is furious because she’s in the same situation, and her rental was canceled. Anne-Marie translates for her, but nothing changes.
We pick up a brand-new Toyota Aigo and head to the hotel.
After checking in, we cross the garden, walking alongside the large pool to reach our room.
A lovely first-floor room with a jacuzzi and a sea view.
It’s early, so we head to breakfast—a generously stocked and varied buffet with everything you could want.
Afterward, we drive to Cueva de los Verdes, but it’s packed with people and a long wait. We decide to come back another day.
Next, we visit Mirador Del Rio. This rocky viewpoint at the edge of the island has breathtaking cliffs plunging 500 meters into the ocean. The view is stunning and impressive.
A panoramic bar lets you cool off while enjoying the scenery.
We return to the hotel for a short walk around the neighborhood and enjoy the beautiful pool with its pleasant water temperature. Relaxing by the pool, sun loungers, and all.
In the evening, a very varied buffet at the restaurant. Then early to bed to recover from the sleepless night before.
Tuesday, September 23
After a restful night, we enjoy another varied and hearty breakfast. The terrace seating is very pleasant. We take an inland road leading to Timanfaya National Park.
The road near the park runs alongside vineyards where the vines are surrounded by lava stone walls to protect them from the prevailing winds.
Our first stop is at the visitor center, where the island’s volcanic activity is well-documented. Next, we stop at an area where you can take a short camel ride—two seats are installed on either side of the camel’s hump. This little ride offers a great view of the volcanic landscape from a higher vantage point. A fair price of 11 € per seat for a 20-minute ride.
We then head to the park entrance via the road leading to the parking lot, where only authorized buses can take the winding route inside the park.
It’s crowded, and we wait about 45 minutes with several stops before reaching the parking lot.
We board the bus, and the route offers beautiful views of this volcanic area and its many craters. The journey is very interesting, with several stops for photos.
At the parking lot, a guide shows us how the heat from the rocks beneath the surface can ignite dry vegetation. Water poured into holes in the ground immediately creates geysers and jets of steam.
The building next to the parking lot has a restaurant where meat is cooked using the heat from a well dug into the volcanic rock.
On our way back, we drive to Playa Blanca, a seaside town with a small sandy beach.
Back at the hotel in the late afternoon for dinner.
Wednesday, September 24
We wake up early and have a quick breakfast—few people are around at this hour. Two days ago, we booked a 10:00 AM visit to Los Verdes, lava tunnels created by eruptions and lava flows from the La Corona volcano, which extended all the way to the coast.
When the lava came into contact with the air, it solidified on the surface while continuing to flow underneath. The lava tunnels stretch for 8 kilometers to the volcano, but we only walk one kilometer.
The inside of the tunnel is impressive, with narrow passages and larger chambers.
You can see traces left by the flowing liquid lava—varied colors and twisted shapes.
At the end of the path, a large chamber has been turned into a concert hall with perfect acoustics.
Next, we visit Jameo Del Agua.
This is a continuation of the lava tunnel, developed by Manrique.
There are beautifully designed bar and restaurant areas, as well as an underground lake where you can see small blind white crabs—a protected species in this very pure water.
Higher up, there’s a lovely space with a central pool that could double as a swimming area, surrounded by beautifully designed white pathways that contrast with the blue water.
Further on, you reach a large space inside the lava tunnel, set up as a performance hall with perfect acoustics.
Stairs let you view this beautiful space from above. A gap in the lava landscape reveals the ocean on the horizon.
We head back toward the village of Yé, at the foot of the La Corona volcano.
A 160-meter walk from the church, a path crosses vineyard plots and then climbs to the top of the volcano’s crater in about 30 minutes. It’s the island’s highest volcano.
When you reach the edge of the crater, you see how deep it is, with steep slopes inside forming a large circular opening. The place is breathtaking and awe-inspiring.
We drive back to the hotel via a road that climbs quickly, offering a beautiful view of the island’s northern part.
Thursday, September 25
After another enjoyable and varied breakfast, we head to the center of the island toward the volcano park and stop at a roadside parking lot where a path leads to the Montana Cuervo volcano.
This is a crater that opened on one side. During an eruption, an explosion created a breach in the crater.
Huge blocks of rock were thrown dozens of meters away. The path goes through the breach and descends into the crater, allowing you to walk around it. It’s impressive, and you really feel small and fragile in this environment.
The crater walls, with their different colors, highlight the rock formations. The crater is surrounded by a sea of lava with sharp, jagged rocks.
You can walk around the outside of the crater, but it’s not very interesting. We then head to the west coast, stopping at a spot with a small green lake next to a beautiful black sand beach.
Next, we stop at Salinas de Janubio, a lovely viewpoint overlooking the salt marshes with different water colors. A small shop sells various local products.
We then head to the famous Papagayo beach.
The road ends at a booth where they charge 3 € to continue.
From here, the land is private, and you have to pay to drive down a 3-kilometer rocky dirt road.
Quite a few cars are driving along it, kicking up clouds of dust. The car gets a dusty makeover.
We arrive at a large parking area, with several paths leading to different small beaches.
We go to Papagayo, a small blonde sand beach surrounded by red rocks.
The beach slopes gently into the water, which is a pleasant temperature. The setting is charming and peaceful.
We stay for a while before heading back to the hotel.
Friday, September 26
We start with a visit to the César Manrique Foundation in Tahiche. This was originally one of his homes. The modern construction spans several levels and is integrated into the lava flow, using the gaps to create living spaces. Large windows make the rooms bright and open to the scenery. The place is pleasant, with flower-filled gardens outside. It’s well worth a visit.
Next, we drive to Las Grietas, where a path leads to a narrow crack in the volcanic rock, forming a tight passage where only one person can walk at a time.
The passage isn’t very long, but progress is slow due to the endless selfies being taken here.
We then stop at Casa Del Camposino, a renovated farm that houses several artisan shops.
We taste a local wine recommended by a charming woman and buy two bottles of Lanzarote red wine on her advice.
Now, we head to Tamara beach, a beautiful and wide beach at the foot of high cliffs. There are always great waves here, making it a surfer’s paradise.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at the cactus garden, César Manrique’s final creation. Designed with a great sense of aesthetics around an old windmill, it features 4,500 varieties of cacti in various shapes, all in a beautiful setting.
We return to the hotel in the late afternoon for the evening.
Saturday, September 27
After another hearty breakfast, we head north to Haria. We stumble upon another of César Manrique’s homes, where he lived for a long time. This house is more traditional than the previous one but still has large, modern, and very pleasant rooms. At the back of the garden is his large studio, where he created his works.
Next, we visit the craft market—this was our original plan. Various stalls offer local items, and it’s very crowded. No room at the café terraces to sit down.
We then return to Famara beach for a long stay. There are always great waves here, much to the surfers’ delight. The water temperature is pleasant, and we enjoy it.
On the way back to the hotel, we stop at a gas station to refill the car, which has been very fuel-efficient. Gas is also much cheaper here than in France—1.16 € per liter of SP95.
We also wash the car, which was very dusty after the long dirt road to Papagayo beach.
At the hotel, we enjoy a farewell cocktail before dinner.
Sunday, September 28
We spend the morning by the hotel pool before checking out at noon. For lunch, we go to a restaurant called "Dona Lola," near the hotel, with a terrace offering a view of the coast. We order tuna carpaccio, which is delicious.
We then head to the airport, just 15 minutes away.
We return the rental car and go to the airport.
A long line to check in our luggage.
The return flight is on time.
A shuttle bus takes us to Saint-Charles station.
We then head to our overnight rental. The boulevard slopes down, making it easier with the suitcases.
The rental is between the old port and the train station.
Once there, we pick up the keys and make one last effort to carry the luggage up to the third floor.
The studio is nice, clean, and simply equipped—perfect for one night.
I’m a newbie to this forum, passionate about wildlife, the landscapes of East Africa, and Tanzania in particular.
This June 2024 trip/safari is our 7th visit to Tanzania and our 5th in the south, which has drawn us more than the north ever since we discovered it in 2015.
In 2024, the entrance fees for the reserves and services have gone up again since our last visit.
I chose to return first to Mikumi Reserve, which was the very first one we visited in the south. Then, we’ll head to Selous (J. Nyerere N. P.) as usual.
Initially, we wanted to spend 2/3 days on Mafia Island at the end of the trip, but it made the total cost too high, so we gave up...
We usually go to Ruaha and Selous, but I wanted to mix it up a bit—also to save some money...
As for the timing, June is a new experience for us. I thought it might be interesting to come just after the lodges reopen... hoping for some great wildlife encounters??
The trip starts in Marseille with our first flight on Ethiopian Airlines to Addis Ababa, then continues to Dar es Salaam, where we’ll finally set foot on Tanzanian soil again.
In Addis... "our" A-350.
.....
After arriving in Dar, we spent one night at a hotel near the airport. The next morning, we headed to the domestic flights terminal, which hasn’t changed in years.
By mid-morning, we boarded a Cessna 208B Caravan with Safari Air Link, heading to the Kikoboga bush airstrip in Mikumi, which we reached 45 minutes later.
Fun fact: the pilot was the same one as on our return flight two years ago.
Welcome on board:
Of course, a driver/guide team from our chosen lodge was waiting for us upon arrival:
I was surprised to see so many aircraft parked there... even twin-engine Embraer Brasilias??
As a fan of vintage planes, I loved it...
On the other hand, the light was incredibly harsh.....!!
Our guides only speak English. We knew that in advance. In the south, it’s very rare to find someone who speaks French. This’ll force us to dig into our high school English memories... from 60 years ago... at least.
It’s noon, and we head toward the lodge.
Near the airstrip, next to the Mikumi rangers’ base, there are quite a few herbivores. They find a bit more peace here—the big cats don’t venture this way...
Our first encounter was a group of Masai giraffes.
Rarer (for us), a savanna monitor lizard basking in the sun right in the middle of the track...??
A large gathering of impalas (mostly males) along with a few blue wildebeest:
Also unusual: a African crowned hornbill taking a dust bath in the middle of the track...!!
When it comes to identifying mammals or birds, I don’t know everything... so I might make mistakes. Please forgive me.
I’m counting on my friend Blesl’s active participation... 😉
Last February, I made a trip using "public transport" from France to southern Senegal via Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, and Mauritania.
It’s a journey of about 5,000 km, where I took trains (as far as Marrakech), ferries (to cross Gibraltar and then to reach Casamance from Dakar), and mostly buses on the long desert straightaways. I hadn’t planned any stops in advance or booked any hotels, except for the very first train to Spain, which left plenty of room for the unexpected.
Why travel by land and sea? In recent years, flight-free travel has been gaining popularity. On social media, posts explaining how to cross Europe by train as quickly as possible go viral. Traveling without flying—and making sure people know about it—has become a great way to earn a badge of eco-responsibility: an essential totem for anyone wanting to prove both their dedication to the ecological cause and the wisdom of slow travel.
I haven’t flown in years, and this journey to West Africa could easily be filed under "responsible travel." But it wouldn’t be honest to say that: in reality, it wasn’t really my aversion to flying that motivated this long trek. I see overland travel primarily as a way to experience the world’s geography at a grounded, earthly pace—the pace of the locals. Besides, I’ll be flying back, which disqualifies any claim to being a model of sustainability.
So no eco-badge, and no adventurer’s badge either: you won’t find any heroic tales of camel rides in lost lands or mineral train wagons in this account (popular with influencers, the Mauritania iron ore train now attracts tourists from all over the world, turning "the experience" into something you "have to do at least once in your life"). This five-part story, written on the road, has no other ambition than to recount a journey through places and people, and to share the thoughts they inspire in me. As simply and, I hope, as humbly as possible.
I’m posting the episodes here, which you can also find on my blog (with more photos) at the following links:
Episode 1: Spain, from Avignon to Algeciras
Episode 2: Morocco, from Tangier to Tarfaya
Episode 3: Western Sahara, from Tarfaya to Guerguerat
Episode 4: Mauritania, from Guerguerat to Nouakchott
Episode 5: Senegal, from Rosso to Saloulou
To help those who might want to make the same trip, I’ve also put together a summary of the route with recommendations—you can read it at the end of the story and on the blog:
From France to Senegal Without Flying: Route and Itinerary Recommendations
This time, I landed in Monastir on a direct flight from Nice, again with Tunisair. We left about ten minutes late, and the flight lasted around 1 hour 30 minutes. A meal was served on board (cucumber salad with Edam-like cheese, carrots, and two small portions of dishes I couldn’t identify—semolina with peppers, olives, and parsley, two small rolls, a square of processed cheese, and a chocolate cake). It’s worth noting because it’s not common on flights this short.
In February, France and Tunisia were in the same time zone, but now Tunisia is one hour behind. This time difference and the flight duration work perfectly for a short 15-day trip since it takes me a few days to adjust to jet lag.
Luckily, I’d asked my hotel about the taxi fare from the airport because the drivers (there were several around me) didn’t hesitate to quote outrageous prices. The actual fare is 20 dinars, but one asked for 120 dinars. I refused, and another offered 60 dinars. I replied, "That’s too expensive—I’ll take the metro!" (Having tried the Tunis metro, I had no desire to repeat the experience in Monastir with a suitcase!). I started walking toward the metro, and one of the drivers caught up with me, saying, "20 dinars is fine!" I’ll skip the details, but the negotiation took a little while.
When I arrived at the hotel, I told the receptionist someone had asked for 120 dinars. He put his hands to his head and said, "They’re awful!" He remembered our phone call two days earlier when I’d booked (he’s the one who told me I could take the metro).
The Mezri Hotel isn’t expensive. I got a sea-view room for 75 dinars (22 €). (I’d booked a balcony room for 90 dinars but wouldn’t have had time to enjoy it.) It’s well-located but noisy because there’s no double glazing.
The receptionist is a very kind older gentleman. He called a friend whose wife is from Tozeur to find out if I should take a bus or a *louage* tomorrow and what time.
I arrived at the hotel around 7:00 PM and had time to stroll along the corniche to the ribat. Despite some run-down buildings, the seaside seemed livelier and cheerier than Sousse’s.
Monastir is the hometown of former president Bourguiba. I passed his mausoleum by taxi. There are Tunisian flags along the avenue by the sea because every year on April 6—the anniversary of Habib Bourguiba’s death—the president of the Republic visits the Bourguiba Mausoleum in Monastir to pay respects.
The taxi driver mentioned other Tunisian presidents. He complained about rising prices and insecurity, blaming President Kaïs Saïed (I’d already heard that security was better under Ben Ali).
At the end of my stay, I’ll take time to explore Monastir, but tomorrow morning, I’m off to Tozeur—a long bus ride awaits me.
Just back from two weeks in Andalusia, and I wanted to share this experience with you—maybe it’ll help with planning a trip. I’ll start with a quick recap in this post and try to add photos and day-by-day details later (still sorting through them). Hope I don’t bore you too much! 😎
Trip details:
April 20 to May 4, 2019:
7 days on the Costa de la Luz (El Puerto de Santa María) in an Airbnb,
4 days at the junction of the Costa del Sol and Costa Tropical (Salobreña) in an Airbnb,
3 days at Cabo de Gata for some rest at a campsite in Los Escullos.
Two families of four, each with our own car: three 9-year-old boys and a 6-year-old girl. One family was more into city exploration (not us, but we’re working on it), and the other preferred relaxation and nature (that’s us). We speak a little Spanish.
Over 5,000 km, including 2,500 km for the round trip from Carcassonne.
The weather: Variable, but we expected better for this region in late April. The first week on the Costa de la Luz was sometimes chilly (< 20°C), and the second week was warmer but not excessive (< 25°C). At least we didn’t get much rain!
Our budget: Around 2600 € per family:
700 € for accommodations, about 50 € per night,
1000 € for meals and restaurants. We usually spent around 50 € per family at restaurants—we ate out for lunch (except for 2–3 picnics) and cooked at home in the evenings, trying to be back by 6 PM.
600 € for activities: Río Tinto, a flamenco show, visits to the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar, Oasis Park with meals, and a kayaking trip.
300 € for gas and tolls.
Preparation: A few months ahead with bookings for accommodations and tickets for the Alhambra, Giralda, and Alcázar. We used a few travel guides—I like the *Évasion* guide for initial planning. *Géoguide* was okay, but our friends’ *Routard* was the most useful. We also spent three months brushing up on Spanish with Mosalingua (a great spaced-repetition method, max 10 minutes a day). Downloaded Maps.me and the Andalusia map in advance—essential. And we used Tricount to track shared expenses with friends—super handy.
What we did/saw:
3 city visits (Seville, Granada, and Cádiz) + Málaga for our friends (we vetoed Córdoba—too many cities for us).
4 white villages (Vejer de la Frontera, Arcos de la Frontera, Grazalema, Ronda) + Tarifa for our friends.
Beaches (Tarifa and Bolonia, Matalascañas, Nerja, Cabo de Gata).
Nature and fun moments: Doñana National Park, a kayaking trip along the rocky coast near Nerja, and the Wild West/animal park in the Tabernas Desert.
A little culture: Río Tinto mines, the archaeological site of Itálica, Columbus’s caravels, Nerja Cave for us, and the Picasso Museum in Málaga for our friends. Plus, seeing the ham-drying process in the Alpujarras (for our friends).
Our highlights
Nerja and the surrounding villages: The rocky coast was amazing, and we loved the kayaking trip, even if the water was freezing for snorkeling. The beaches are sheltered from the wind, the town is charming, and the cave is incredible.
El Rocío and Doñana National Park. El Rocío has a timeless, almost Wild West vibe—we could’ve stayed a day or two. The quiet and pine scents reminded us of the Landes region.
What we didn’t love as much:
Río Tinto mines: Not super exciting, and the guides’ nonstop chatter kind of ruined the "nature" experience.
Our little regrets (for next time):
Forgetting our passports and missing a day trip to Tangier from Tarifa.
Not having an extra day around Nerja to go snowboarding in the Sierra Nevada—just 1.5 hours away (the kayak guide suggested it).
Not spending at least one night in El Rocío to explore Doñana National Park at dawn.
Antequera with the Guadalhorce reservoir and the Caminito del Rey (but it would’ve meant 2 more hours of driving, and we didn’t have the energy).
My general impressions of Andalusia and Spain
Landscapes: A feeling of extreme concentration of a single activity in some areas—endless olive groves, wind farms on the Costa de la Luz (which I thought were well-integrated), rows of buildings along the Costa del Sol (yikes, glad we didn’t stop there), greenhouses around Almería (a shame to have frozen the coast for so many kilometers), and the massive industrial port of Huelva.
What surprised us compared to France was the lack of small hamlets—villages are clearly defined, and people cluster there, leaving vast landscapes without human presence. In France, you find houses scattered everywhere.
Roads: Relatively few tolls. Sure, rest areas aren’t as nice as in France, but the roads are in good condition, and our wallet was happy. The roads are pretty straight with countless bridges and tunnels—the upside (besides fast travel) is that there aren’t many secondary roads disrupting the scenery.
Tourism and activities: A huge variety and richness. Feels like everyone can find something they like, and 15 days barely scratched the surface. It’s amazing how quickly you go from the coast to snow-capped peaks (Sierra Nevada) or from farmland to desert (Tabernas). And the mix of European and Arabic architecture in the same city is really special.
One small regret: Not interacting more with locals. We didn’t luck out with our Airbnbs. But shopkeepers were great—very patient with my broken Spanish! :-)
Overall, I think our choice to stay on the Costa de la Luz and then near Nerja worked well. We could explore pretty easily (even if we logged a lot of kilometers), and the settings were fantastic. The 3 days of total relaxation at Cabo de Gata were perfect.
If you prefer shorter stops, you could try staying in El Rocío (easy access to Seville and great for an early visit to Doñana National Park) or maybe Grazalema for a hike in the mountains (weather-dependent). And of course, Tarifa for a day trip to Tangier or Gibraltar.