aire at Saint Cirq Lapopie
aire at Saint Cirq Lapopie
at Saint Cirq Lapopie
at Saint Cirq Lapopie
Around Saint Cirq Lapopie
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Day 12
Another clear blue sky and a hot sunny day follows.
After breakfast we make a reasonably early start and walk along the river, past the old water mill, to the foot of the bastide town of Saint Cirq Lapopie. There are no people about, just us and the odd walker, we see a great spotted woodpecker, a kingfisher, a flash of blue flying low over the river, a blue jay in the trees, a heron fishing on the weir, a nut hatch doing its vertical walk on the tree trunk and a host of blue tits and great tits.
At the foot of the hill we have a great view (up) to the bastide, it is a considerable climb, both steps and switchback paths, but it is early enough not to be too hot… yet. We reach the eglise (almost the top) with its tall tower and home to perhaps 200 martins, flying round the top of the tower in the sun, like a swarm of bees. They are mesmerising to watch as they swoop and dive and land on the semi-vertical roof and take off to do it again. Inside the church is warm and moist, no coolness in here, a plain interior with some lovely (modern) stained glass windows. When we come out the light is dazzling, and it takes a few moments to adjust to brilliant sunlight.
A couple of coaches have arrived and the people (mostly 70+ and not very mobile) are milling around forming long slow queues up and down the narrow, steep steps to the top-most viewpoint, there must be a hundred or so in total. We wait patiently for them and Alan comments that they are probably our age! we are both grateful for my health and mobility and that we can still get to some of these inaccessible places. The view from the top is breath-taking.
On the north side, we can see along the Lot in both directions: westwards along the steep rocky gorge, eastwards to the green and fertile Lot valley, still full of uncut, corn and segum cereal and vines high on the mountainside. We can see the campsite by the trees at the curve of the river and road running in both directions. On the south side we look down on a sea of cream and orange pan tile roofs, of different heights, shapes and sizes, like a magnificent picture on a biscuit tin.
It is almost midday and the town is full of tourists, filling the steep, narrow streets, searching for souveniers or lunch. The sign in one of the streets says 600,000 people visit this village every year (more than Monet’s house and garden). We go down and join them, a throng of colourful tourists all meandering along and stopping to point and click their mobile phone cameras while looking for lunch. We don’t like it too much amidst so many people so take the high road out of the bastide and drop down onto the carpark at the back of both campsites.
It is almost 1.00pm when we get back, it is now hot but a strong breeze whips up the white chalky dust of the campsite and blows it liberally around everywhere. We have lunch and spend a quiet afternoon reading and/or writing in the afternoon sun and watching the weekend campers start to arrive. Not many as it happens, only about twelve of us by 9.00pm. The evening is warm and very clear, as the sky darkens, the stars are brilliant, and the milky way is clearly visible. We go to bed at our usual time. I lie in bed and read and around 11.00pm I hear music playing, in the distance but definitely festival music. I drift off to sleep.
Summary of motorhome journey
Total miles |
mpg | average speed mph |
hours driven |
- | - | - | - |
Totals for this journey |
|||
1126.8 | 29.6 | 31 | 35:20 |