We finally have the makings of a plan. With the last of Spring upon us, we’re taking the opportunity to head for Provence where hopefully it won’t be blindingly hot. As the weather then warms, we’ll make our way north up through southeast France into the Alsace-Lorraine region. Following much pointed debate and some disconcerting media on recent security risks, we’ve decided to stay away from Northern Spain and Northern Italy. As unfortunate as this is, neither of us can bear the thought of returning to the motorhome to find it ransacked. Another drama is not what’s needed at this stage.
As usual, we use Les Plus Beaux Villages to guide our way. Today’s stop is Cardaillac, a village founded by the powerful feudal Cardaillac family in the 700s.
With two cliff top frontages, the village was once also defended by a series of ramparts and towers in support of the cliffs’ natural fortifications. Only three towers survive today, the ramparts having long since been destroyed in the Religious Wars.
It’s a quick tour as it’s a tiny spot with a population of 600. One of the towers is open, up a steep entrance into its first level. We both manage this but one look at the ever tightening spiral staircase leading to the top gets a firm “no” vote from us both. Still, it’s an interesting insight to the towers that once protected this village. The abandoned woodfired oven has me dreaming of sourdough bread.
More my speed, is the medieval medicinal garden. Beautifully maintained with clear descriptions of each plant and its purpose. Considering the limited knowledge of the day, the list of each plant’s uses is very impressive. I’m surprised to see belladonna, a well known poison.
There’s also the local laverie, used as the village laundry up until relatively recently. This one has deep channels on either side of the trough so one could stand to wash as opposed to having to kneel. I’m not entirely convinced it would have worked well on whites….
Our tour through the garden is accompanied by a friendly hound. As the afternoon expands it’s clear that he’s a local dog off on his own little adventure. Very skilled at getting teenage boys to throw sticks for him, his friendly nature makes him an excellent Cardaillac ambassador.
It’s far too hot to sit in the motorhome. Instead we pack a picnic (a bottle of rose is a picnic, yes?) and nestle into the medieval garden alongside a stream. I catch up on the blog as Himself catches up on the news. Surrounded by shade, the soothing rythym of the stream and the twitter of bird song, it’s a little green oasis.
Miss Baci Travels 