News from the mountains

S spent most of the morning replanning his route with the aid of the maps and laptop I'd brought. We eventually set out to be tourists at about 11:30. Our plan was to go to Ax-les-Thermes, but when we got to the roundabout and saw the traditional bank holiday traffic jam clogging up Tarascon from end to end, we changed our minds, returned the way we came, and decided to go to Aulus-les-Bains instead. However, as we passed through Massat, it was dead on lunchtime, and there was a parking space right next to the market place, so we spontaneously decided to stop there. We had a cheap and cheerful lunch in the cafe on the square while the market traders packed up and an extraordinary amount of traffic passed by.

We don't know Massat except by means of Djalla-Maria Longa's memoir Mon enfance sauvage, so we went for a wander round. It's larger than we thought and rather charming: a mixture of dereliction, hippies, and upwardly-mobile renovation. I don't think this colourful street really qualifies for derelict Sunday, but there were candidates. The bright green shopfront must date from the 1920s or 30s and still has its original windows -- you could tell from the gently rippled glass.

In order not to return by the same route we carried on to the Col de Lers, via the Etang de Lers. There were hundreds of people about on this hot (32C!) bank holiday Sunday, but it is still a tranquil spot. Near the top of the pass there were half a dozen people hang-gliding and scores of people watching them. Somehow I failed to take any usable photos of this. Small album here.

Back at Les Phoenix, we accepted Sylvie's offer to try out the new hot tub. It's on the unshaded terrace, and it was still very hot out there; nevertheless it was very enjoyable lounging in the bubbling water and looking at the view. They're also installing a sauna and a hammam.

We'd had the sense to arrange to eat at home that evening. It's many years since we've been to a genuine table d'hôte, where you eat dinner with the family; they seem to have fallen out of fashion. There were two other guests who'd dropped in at the last minute, as they were passing and had stayed a couple of years ago. Sylvie set the table on the terrace and the six of us had a very pleasant evening; we started with her home-made acacia flower aperitif and then ate salad, barbecued sausages and kebabs, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, baked potatoes, and a home-made tart with plums from the garden. All delicious. Meanwhile the moon rose, the chickens clucked, the peacocks yelled at each other in the dark, and the soppy Great Dane Harley lurked hopefully for scraps.