Borderlands

The scenic route through the Camargue was winding and slow but with wildlife abundant and the landscape ever changing the hours flashed by. We got our first true glimpse of the Med whilst driving across a narrow strip of land that separates Montpellier from the Gulf of Lion. Eleven days after leaving the safety of our families and the reassuring bleakness of the Pennine moors we’d finally hit the sea. Swerving between rugby totting locals and lilo carrying tourists we eventually stopped for refreshments. Courts returned with a five pack of ice lollies - a brave decision with temperatures hitting the mid thirties - but necessary all the same. Making short work of the first three, we actually tried giving the remainder away, driving slowly along the marina ambushing unsuspecting holidaymakers, ‘here mate you want a lolly?’ Queue chuckles, bemusement and numerous looks of disdain.

We eventually reached what would prove to be our final French destination later that evening and after much deliberation we eventually opted to stay in a farmhouse in a quaint Pyrenean village. Our slightly eccentric host showed us around the artfully decorated renovation and then left us to enjoy a magnificent sunset. I began the following morning with a run up into the surrounding foothills, taking a brief pause to check out an ancient priory before hurtling back home for a cold shower and breakfast. The afternoon saw us take the opportunity to head for the coast and what a gem we unearthed. Only a few kilometres from the mountainous frontier where in the late 1930’s Spanish Republicans fled Franco’s regime, sits Collioure - a delightful seaside town overlooked by castles, escarpments and lilac tinged trees. Its crescent shaped bay provides shelter to a small flotilla of wooden boats whilst its beaches and coves buzz with activity.

Cooling off

With the sun hanging high we sought shelter under the shade of an old fortress, dipping our feet in the refreshing waters of the port. Suddenly amidst the splashing of a solitary diver and the cries of an upended child, sweet notes of opera filled the air. Not only that but the glamorous soprano was also accompanied by her two assistants, a fleet footed caramel coloured stallion and its equally glamorous rider. Along with the other mesmerised onlookers we watched as the equine entertainer stooped, then pirouetted, then reared, before bidding farewell to its adoring crowd with a perfectly executed bow.

It was also our time to say goodbye. We’d spent the best part of two weeks bisecting the largest country in Western Europe. Each passing day had unveiled to us things as yet unknown, both about the place we were discovering and as us as new parents. Travelling and working with our bundle of energy Luna in toe was never going to be easy, but it’s been an absolute pleasure to see her grow, smile and interact with the ever changing cast of characters and backdrops that we’ve encountered along the way. So here’s to our France, the land of long lost relatives, champagne, mustard, mistral winds and cowboys.

Au revoir.

Opera singing cowgirls