Pech Faure

From Ribouisse to Lafage across the hills - a mild, sunny, soft december day, the cousins all together, unknown farm tracks and new views.
From Pech Faure, we could see the Montagne Noir, the Corbieres, the Pyrenees, the skeleton of a dead sheep, which was mistaken for a dinosaur, and our home, a long way away, on a distant hill.
From here we dropped down to Miquel, where Lalley was waiting for us with coffee, puppies on tap and Nutella sandwiches. Back up over the hills past Plan Coulon, a few runs along the hay horse scale, and down to the edge of the village, where the hunters who, by their own admission had killed more time than creatures, were packing up to go home.