The call of Lac Sainte Croix’s blue proves impossible to resist. Mountains and water are an unbeatable combination in my book.
What I didn’t count on, is Himself’s preference to aim for the lake’s northern tip and as the Beatles would say, the long and windy road thereto. He’s clever Himself, easing me into the terror with a couple of lavender fields to distract me. Yes, lovely…
…and then I see Tomtom’s prediction of the road ….
As an added ‘bonus’ the road is full of serious cyclists, adding extra challenge to blind hairpin turns. Fuck, says I. Are you sure about this? I get a serene smile in response. He likes his little driving challenges, Himself does.
But once we’re there, all terror is forgotten. Oh my. Framed by mountains, intensely blue, deeply green, Lac Sainte Croix is jaw droppingly beautiful. I could happily otter about in it for hours. Days possibly, if someone brought me snacks every so often.
We learn that this area was once farm land, flooded in the 1970s, in creation of the lake and the associated hydro electric scheme. Aside from power, the lake also provides much of the Haute Provence’s drinking water. Five villages lost farmland, becoming lakeside resorts instead. There’s a challenge to business models. One village was entirely demolished and rebuilt further along. The lake is 12 km long, 2 km across, holding some 760 million cubic litres of water. Wow.
Perched on high, the village of Sainte Croix du Verdon offers spectacular water views. You have to work for them though – it’s a mountain goat path up, engendering complaint even from those walking down.
It has to be explored of course and up we go.
Extra points for effort are rewarded with well earned drinks across from a constantly changing view as sun, cloud and distant rain play over the water.
We choose to stay a second day, it’s just too lovely to leave. And just as well. There’s the dam end to see and an excellent view through the water to the limestone cliffs forming the lake’s edge.
Himself needs feeding eventually. Back in Sainte Croix du Verdon, he opts for slow cooked shank with ratatouille whilst I have cabillaud with spring vegetables and freshly whipped aoli. Lovely.
There’s a swim at day’s end. It’s choppier and cooler than yesterday but how often does one get the opportunity to swim in the Haute Provence Alps? I’m going in even if it’s arctic. Himself is coaxed to the water’s edge but pusses out. His loss – it was wonderful, instantly deep and gloriously refreshing.
As an aside, and knowing that Himself appreciates a direct gift suggestion – I’ll take this little red Austin Healey please. No need to gift wrap….
Miss Baci Travels 