Human for scale

An exceptionally good day. We'd discussed a couple of weeks ago going out for a walk with Laurence, her partner Saber, and Isabelle, but the weather's been too bad recently for it to be appealing. Today was a public holiday though, and the weather forecast was promising, so at 10 o'clock we set off to Albas.

Without naming names I was a bit underwhelmed that the person who chose the route didn't know where it started and didn't have a map. But it wasn't hard to find, and luckily it was extremely well waymarked -- helped by occasional use of GPS by S and Saber to select the right way at forks in the track when it wasn't clear.

The information board in the village claimed that there was only 130 m of climbing. What nonsense, I thought, before we were even halfway. There was more scrambling and steep paths covered in loose stones than I like too. But the weather was perfect, not too hot and no wind, and the clouds soon cleared. View in extra 2. I staggered gamely on after the others and we soon had plenty of excuses to stop. Over a few hundred metres we collected two carrier bags full of ceps de pin, a type of boletus/porcini that grows under pine trees.  We knew when there were more to be had due to Isabelle's frequent shrieks of excitement, but even she eventually tired of them (and ran out of places to put them). Niche French pun: "On a ras le bol-et !" said S.

We stopped for a very welcome picnic and siesta on a grassy plateau and then had a nice easy downhill bit, punctuated by more shrieks as we found more delicious boletus under oak trees (a more refined variety). They've obviously been encouraged by recent rain and warmth, but there can't be many people using this path; they were just there, plump and juicy, begging to be picked (extra 1). We started artfully adding them to the space in the rucksacks freed by the absence of sandwiches, trying not to crush them.

There was more climbing, more descending, and a passage through some nice shady woods. Here Isabelle's shrieks of excitement became earsplitting as she spotted a coulemelle (blip). Dropping her walking poles, she lunged up a wooded slope to pick them, and for the next half hour our walk was punctuated by further yells and brief expeditions into the undergrowth. I've never seen them before. They start out like the one on the right of my blip, and then the heads open up into huge parasols, feathered with delicate white gills. Isabelle couldn't bear to leave any, so as rucksacks and carrier bags were now full, she had to find more creative ways of carrying them (extra 3). I was delegated to walk behind S and catch fallen ones.

We eventually got back to the car five hours after setting off. Stats: 6.8 km, 300 m climbing, probably 3.5 hours of actual walking time. Phew. We felt we'd earned some refreshment, so we drove back via Lagrasse and had beer or hot chocolate depending on individual thirst levels.

As we drove back into the village we handily encountered Laurence's mum Odile just leaving. She's a mushroom goddess, so she did a U-turn and came back to examine the treasures spread out over the entire surface of Laurence's kitchen table, approving all of them and flipping through an illustrated book on mushrooms to show us the varieties. "Don't eat the coulemelles with alcohol," she advised. Isabelle dismissed this, saying she'd done this loads of times.

We popped back home for a shower and then all reconvened chez Laurence for an impromptu fungus-based communal meal. The mushrooms seemed like a huge quantity, but you'd be surprised how little is left once you've peeled them and removed the spongy bit from underneath. Still, plenty for five of us. Olives, bread and pâté to start, along with vin nouveau, then an omelette made from the ceps de pin. The ceps from under the oak trees got their own starring role, simply sliced and fried in olive oil with parsley and garlic. They were divine. Isabelle had taken the coulemelles home to cook them. She returned with a small bowl of slightly dubious looking mush (they contain a lot of water), but they actually had a nice vaguely meaty flavour. Since S and I hadn't tried them before, and had drunk wine, we had small helpings. Writing the next day, I can report no ill effects! We finished off with cheese brought by S. Then much doom-laden conversation about the perils looming over local agriculture. I cheered everyone up by talking about Blipfoto :) A well-spent day!