Benejacq

There she blows Marge. The wind had been gusting all night and this morning showed no sign of relenting. The van next to us, a long-wheeled base Iveco van housed three children, their parents, a dog and cat. John thought they probably all lived in it. Houseless, not homeless. One of the boys was obsessed by us. He watched our every move, waving every time we caught his eye. The children didn't leave the van except to relieve themselves in the bushes. We didn't know quite what to make of the set up. 

Looking back as we left the hill top town of Fanjeaux.

Today we were going to head up into the Midi-Pyrenees. After two hours of driving, we stopped at a pretty picnic area near Aurignac by some prehistoric caves.

Two had been exposed and a third was being excavated. As we ate our lunch, we could hear the familiar call of a cuckoo. A young deer appeared through the hedgerow pausing for a moment on hearing our voices before disappearing out of sight. What a beautiful lunch spot. We have not driven through this area before, and rather than retracing our steps back to the Atlantic coast we thought we'd drive back through the lowlands of the mountains. Give it some grunt Marge. If these are the lower levels, please don't consider anything higher.

Our drive took us past sweet smelling cows and half-timbered house and the impressive chateau Mauvezin. We were planning to spend the night at a recommended spot-on top of a col. The drive to it was challenging. You drag me up these hills only for me to sail down the other side. Sorry Marge, we're not too pleased about it either, we can see your fuel gauge dropping.

Up on the col the views were spectacular, but the weather turned and it began to rain. Firing up Marge Angela noticed her engine management light would not go out. Oh Marge. What's going on. Had we pushed her too far? After some googling and discussion, we decided to move down off the mountain and into the town. Then deciding all would probably be O.K. we drove for over an hour to the aire at Benejacq. Our neighbours here are English and from Norfolk. They spotted our Brompton bicycles. They also had Brompton's with them. We talked with them for a while which gave us a chance to wind down. It was seven o' clock, nine hours since we left this morning.

After a hastily prepared meal we walked around the town, stopping by the church and then looking at the Rock of Barunan (Rock of the hand of God) originating from Africa somewhere between five and seven million years ago finding itself in Benejacq.

During every trip we experience a couple of days that don't go well. Today was one of them. Everyday can't be wunderbar Marge. Why are you speaking German? Not sure Marge, must be the stress. Tomorrow, we need to plan our onward trip carefully moving away from the mountains and onto the flatter terrain of the Atlantic coast. Fingers crossed all will be well with Marge.