It’s a strange visit when we don’t take a trip to Gruissan, often for Sunday lunch.  Our main purpose was to see whether the flamingos were still around, and indeed they were, on the étang de Bages.  A few rewarded us by taking off and flying to another feeding ground – they are an amazing sight.  As we stood and watched, there were definite sounds of fish hitting the surface to feed on insects.  (Loud applause, given how often I get bitten to hell when we’re by the water thereabouts.)  We stopped further along to get a closer view of some flamingos, and saw fish leaping clear out of the water to feed.  Big chaps; possibly bass.

Other forms of hunting are of course in evidence.  The chasse begins on the first Sunday after the 15 August holiday (elegantly described in German as Mariahimmelfahrt).  We’ve heard a few rifle shots from home, and one of our neighbours drives past the house every Sunday morning during the season with two or three dogs in his van barking blue murder.  One day as we headed out for lunch, we crossed the path of a convoy of hunters, one of whom had tied a huge wild boar across the front of his 4x4.

Returning to Sunday, one of our usual lunch venues was closed, so we tried one of their neighbours, Le Mouton de Panurge, and weren’t disappointed.  €16 for a decent, if limited, 3-course menu, decent wines by the glass, friendly service and a view of the yacht harbour.  We’ll be back.

Today we finally gritted our teeth and tackled the Canigou – by car, of course: don’t be silly!  A few years ago, on going in search of views, we were thwarted by a sign at the bottom of the road up into the Massif, saying that access was restricted to 4x4s.  This was not entirely absent from our minds when we bought the current vehicle.  Well, today dawned fine and clear, so off we went, finding a new sign at the foot of the hill, saying no access without a permit in July and August, 4x4s only, no access at night or during rainfall, very narrow roads etc, etc.  We should have got the hint, really.

The road is classified by Michelin as ‘difficult or dangerous’.  The last time I used such a road was in the Vercors, years ago, when I took one of those roads that were rebated into vertical cliff faces to transport timber to the markets of the Rhône valley.  Frightening, but paved and safe.  If you’re advised to try the Escala de l’Ours, please don’t.  It’s little better than a mule track: narrow, rocky and with vertiginous drops.  Well, we crept up the mountain tracing our way between boulders and water courses, and a few times I was deterred from giving up only by the idea of having to face such awful tracks a second time, and by the shortage of turning places.  The only experience that comes remotely close in awfulness was picking my way up packed snow on an alpine road in an over-powered Alfa-Romeo on summer tyres.  All we met on the way up was a handful of walkers and a couple of mountain bikers.  I was really worried that we’d meet an enthusiastic Land-Rover driver hurtling round the hairpins.  Fortunately, he didn’t materialise until we’d just reached the col.....

We eventually reached the col at 2055 metres, breathing a very small sigh of relief, the air being on the thin side for my liking at that altitude.  The road down the other side was a little better – wider at least – and our worst problem was a rather peculiar family driving mules, donkeys and a nanny goat down the hill.  The good side of it all is that we have got it out of our systems, and had some fantastic views in consequence.  From the highest point we reached, we could easily see the Montagne d’Alaric, our very own back-yard mountain, from a good 50 miles away.

Have to say that the car behaved really well.  With a younger and more capable driver, it would have been up there like a mountain goat, sure-footed and predictable, with the oil and water temperatures remaining well within safe limits.  Very good downhill as well, with bags of engine braking in first and second, so I didn’t cook the brakes. 

So, back home safely.  I acceded to Martyn’s offer to take over the driving just this side of Narbonne, shortly after I’d tried to set the cruise control by turning on the right indicators.  Dinner of saltimbocca, oven wedgies (home made) and ratatouille (ditto).