words by Williams

Wednesday May 31

Today we’re moving east towards the Languedoc as a stop-off before our eventual turning point north at Aix-en-Provence. We’re also hoping to catch up with Wendy Gedney, the lady who kicked off my fascination with things wine-based when she led one of her first vineyard tours with us in 2009.

Turns out, Wendy’s off on a wine trip of her own, but could be back by Friday. We’ll see.

We’ve chosen the main roads for speed again, which means missing out on some of the places on the Chasse Les Chefs tour visited by Messrs Stein and Martin on their various French frolics.

We’re hoping to park near Carcassonne and head into the old city but the weather is looking ominous.

By the time we reach Carcassonne it’s thrashing down with rain and there’s thunder and lightning.

We give it a miss and head for our next site at Camping Le Moulin de Saint-Anne in Villegly, between Carcassonne and Villeneuve-Minervois, where Wendy lives.

On the way, we stop off at a huge Carrefour which, apart from the supermarket itself, shares space with a number of boutiques and restaurants.

Betsy takes up four spaces in the car park, but as it’s still biblical weather-wise, there’s only us idiots willing to leap out and brave the storm for some much-needed lunch.

We spend at least five minutes trying to work out the method of ordering food before being rescued by a member of staff who’s happy to practice her English.

No more drama, apart from being screamed at by a lady at the self-service till in Carrefour to go the long way round to the exit despite not having bought anything. Amid the shrillness I find the French a little difficult and I think I must look like an idiot as I stand there shrugging while she’s waving, before eventually getting the message.

And actually, there’s a sign on the long way round exit barrier that says this is the way out if you’ve not bought anything. I’d just been 20 metres too far away to read it.

The weather’s brightened up by the time we reach Villegly. The approach to the campsite is across a very narrow bridge near the local boulorama and past the cemetery, as a lot of sites seem to be. Rule of thumb, if you’re looking for a campsite, head for the dead centre of town.

We’re randomly put on a pitch designed to test my three-point-turns. I fail and go round for a second attempt, fearful of taking out something on the low wall opposite.

The pitch has electricity and a post featuring no fewer than five taps, none of which work.

I trot off to reception to report it. The receptionist, who had seemingly spoken decent English when we checked in, is having trouble understanding the lack of water thing. Eventually she says she’ll talk to the boss about it.

What with the rain and the heat, the mozzies are out and Cal’s on the menu. Before long her legs are a mass of bite bumps.

She’s got nibbled and I’ve got pitch grump. Ho hum.

Thursday June 1

It’s a much brighter day. We catch the bus into Carcassonne. The route runs from Pepieux and back and it costs just a euro each one way, which is amazing.

Better still, the bus stop is just at the end of the road.

I’ve mentioned before my admiration of the skill of bus drivers on rural routes in the UK. Turns out they’re not so bad in France either. This one seems to actually be enjoying swinging his vehicle around the same Carrefour car park we’d seen before.

We arrive in Carcassonne near the canal port and the railway station, with no real idea where to catch the bus back except we know it’s not from the same place. ‘It’s not a circuit’ we’re told. One to Google later.

This bit of Carcassonne is the modern bit, and not the one we’re looking for. The old walled city is like a medieval theme park on a hill with turreted walls enclosing busy cobbled streets. Today is hot again and we’ve trekked up a small mountain to get here, stopping for lunch in a small cafe just this side of the Pont Vieux that links theme park Carcassonne with the harsh reality across the River Aude.

Last time we were here, in 2009, we’d done the full perimeter tour. This time we stick to the cobbles and after 90 minutes or so, it’s getting too warm for comfort, so we head back down the hill.

We find the bus stop ok and in plenty of time. Not so the bus, which is around 20 minutes late. Seems that ours didn’t turn up because this one is clearly a ‘Scolaire’ - mainly a school bus.

We’re confused, and the fact that the ticket machine’s not working means we get to share it for free.

We’re even more confused when the bus stops just outside the big Carrefour and people start jumping off to get on another bus headed for Pepieux and therefore our stop at Villegly.

It’s a two-bus trip home and we’ve not paid a penny.

Still no water on the pitch when we get back, but they’re ‘looking into it’.

Friday June 2

Excited today to be visiting Wendy Gedney in Villeneuve-Minervois, which is a 10-minute bus ride up the road. Villeneuve is famous for wine and truffles, so you can see why Wendy settled there having successfully established her Vin En Vacances wine tours company more than 10 years ago.

She and her partner - she mainly just calls him ‘Fisher’, but he has a first name and it’s Kevin renovated a derelict building literally just over Villeneuve’s own Pont Vieux and they’ve made a fabulous job of it.

We sit in the sunny back courtyard for a couple of hours, catching up. Nearing a significant birthday ending in zero, Wendy’s keen to retire. Kevin thinks she’s not keen enough, maybe, but as Wendy says, selling a business like hers is tricky. It’s registered in the UK which has its benefits in comparison to French company law but it’s ticking along nicely. Wendy’s only just back from leading a tour to the Champagne region of France.

She’s also writing - or actually has written - a novel and is waiting to publish. I’m still working on my quartet of ‘That Day’ stories. We compare writer’s notes and agree to share the finished pieces.

She fills us in on how Mike and Val Slowther are doing over in Pepieux. They have closed their Vieux Relais Chambres d’Hote and they, too, are looking to sell, apparently.

It’s time to go, although we’re ridiculously early for the bus. We were early getting to Villeneuve, too, so we stopped for a really fresh pizza at a cafe in the village on the way to Wendy’s.

Back with Betsy there’s still no water, but we are surrounded by newbie arrivals, all French and all clearly acquainted.

Turns out they are randonneurs - ramblers - from somewhere near Poitiers I think.

A throwaway conversation leads to an invitation to join them - including the club’s M Le President - for a drink on the pitch next door to ours.

We try out our French, they try out their English. They tell us that by tomorrow there will be 50 randonneurs on site, ready for big ramble on Sunday. Apparently it’s something they do every year, but in a different part of the country.

Two of the ladies in the group have walked the Camino de Santiago in the past. One explains to me that there’s a network of routes across Europe that meet a the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Spain.

One of the things they do on the side is create exotic cocktails. Our neighbour is keen to share his, made (and I’m guessing again here) from pine needles. It’s very good, like a sweet piney liqueur.

After a while, we’re conscious that we’re taking up far too much of their energy with our exchange of Franglais. We thank them for their warm hospitality and leave them to their evening.