It is perhaps ironic that the first sortie from our campsite in the Cote d’Azur should take us back into Provence.
We were talking to one of the owners of our campsite and he recommended we try the wines at Chateau Roubine in Lorgues, about 25 miles west of Saint Raphael. That suited me because I had read about and was keen to visit the picturesque medieval village of Bargemon which is about 20 miles north west of St Raphael. I figured we could visit both Bargemon and Lorgues by driving a small isosceles triangle from Saint Raphael (going 20 miles north west to Bargemon by way of Callas; 20 miles south west from Bargemon to Lourges by way of Callas and Figieres and; 25 miles east from Lourges back to Saint Raphael on the E80 road). It would amount to about 3 hours driving in total because most of the roads in that part of the world are slow but we’d get to see both towns and sample a couple of half decent wines.
Oh that it had worked out this way but most everything went slightly awry as we entered Bargemon and a catalogue of events followed which saw this best laid plan of mice and men crumble. We set off in good time and made our way up through Callas to Bargemon and even got to entering the town and within 400 metres of the aire that I was aiming for (on Route de Seillans). And then? We encountered a traffic jam involving a bloody big coach, our Van and three cars. We came in on the Avenue du Colonel Manhes and got as far as the fountain in the town centre when we met the coach coming in the opposite direction. The morons driving the three cars contrived to block both the coach’s road forward and any chance I had of reversing the Van. The only obvious way to untangle the ensuing mess was for me to turn left after the fountain on to Avenue Francois Maurel, such that the coach could make progress along my side of the Avenue du Colonel Manhes. The coach driver appreciated the situation and I turned left, thus freeing the bus. Part two of the plan was that, as soon as I could turn the Van around, I would return back along Avenue Francois Maurel and continue on my way along the Avenue Colonel Manhes to the aire on the Route de Seillans. It wasn’t to be.
There was nowhere I could turn the Van around on the Avenue Francois Maurel and I had to just kept going higher and higher on switchback roads which became increasingly narrow until we found ourselves on the Route de Broves and heading for the Verdon Gorge. Vanya wasn’t happy about that prospect and neither was she happy about my returning to Bargemon along the switchbacks. Talk about being caught between a rock and a half place.
Okay, so I eventually found a turn which would take me down a narrow road (unless I met something coming in the opposite direction) to the little village of Montferrat and then; on to the small town of Figanieres and what Vanya would call ‘proper roads that will get us home’. I think by ‘home’ she meant Saint Raphael but; she was very stressed and it could have been Brighton she was referring to. She’s never been good with heights and the switchbacks were really upsetting her.
We made it safely to Monferrat. We met no other traffic on the way. And then, I made a mistake. I suggested that, since we had missed out on Bargemon, we should stop in Montferrat and chill for a bit. Before Vanya could comment, I had turned off the Route de Castellane (for it was that which we were on) and headed straight into another traffic jam. Some workmen were digging up the road. Traffic on the other side of the roadworks were able to turn around and retrace their steps. The driver of the little car which had followed me into Montferrat was, by a series of skilful manoevres, able to turn his/her car around and disappear. Me? I was stuck.
I got out of the Van and tried to negotiate with the workmen but to no avail. They couldn’t or wouldn’t stop their work. They were laying concrete and, having worked as part of a concrete gang on Streatham High Road in the 1970’s, I could sympathise with them to some extent. It’s difficult to interrupt concrete laying. Having said that, I wasn’t going to wait. I’d had it. They should have put up appropriate signage and organised a detour. I climbed back into the Van and edged my way through. Sod ’em! I don’t know how but, we got past them and continued on to Figanieres for a desperately needed glass of wine and something to eat.
I’m getting stressed again just reading all that back to myself. I’ll leave you with some photos I took in Fiaganieres but, we didn’t stay long. The day had pretty much passed us by and I was exhausted. We were too late for food and we didn’t feel like driving on to Lorgues but I got some red wine and the weather stayed fine throughout.
Only other thing that sticks in my mind about this day was that I recall thinking both Bargemon and Figanieres are fond of their fountains. They seemed to be all over the place. Would I return to these places? Figanieres, I’ve probably seen enough of the town. Montferrat, not a chance. Bargemon, definitely but, next time I’ll wait for the cars to move.