That's a coincidence, Carerrasax. Only this morning I was chatting to a German guy and his wife on the bank of the Upper Loire at Digoin. They are on their way to Calpe and staying there until the end of March. Apparently it's very popular with German Moho-ers.
The bright sky didn't last much longer. Just before I reached the Cevanne mountains it started raining and the higher I climbed the heavier it got. Whenever I climbed above 1000m the heavy rain changed to huge hailstones and it was deafening under the fibreglass roof. I'd deliberately chosen the Cevannes Corniche but the views weren't always great!
It stopped raining just before the ever popular Aire at St Jean-du-Gard.
Which is totally empty because the steam railway (my prime reason for coming here) is no doubt shut at this time of the year.
Doh!
If the weather doesn't improve by tomorrow evening feel free to have a giggle at my expense.
Beautiful sunny morning , until you go outside.
6 degrees, rising to a maximum of 12. .
we have to drive to the big town 500 feet uphill. It'll get the full mashing of northwesterly winds.
We'll be rugged up like eskimos.
Winds due to change overnight, bringing warm rain..
That's OK.
We'll, what can I say?
Overnight in St Jean-du-Gard Thor decided to keep the good people and their solitary Moho-er visitor wide awake. It flashed, crashed and poured all night long and was still doing so at nine this morning. The little steam train was obviously shut for the winter and even if it had been open a ride in the open sided coaches might not have been exactly fun.
I decided to press on southwards in the continuing storm. When I stopped for fuel the lady attendent assured me that they desperately needed the rain! I'm guessing that she's a close friend of Paul's. It was quite amusing because the pump island really was that and she'd asked me to stop right up against the concrete so that she could jump across the water and stand by the pump so missing the fairly deep water streaming across the forecourt.
I was soon amongst olive trees and vines, though the vines didn't look any happier with the weather than me:
It's difficult to imagine that later this year these vines will deliver the juice that will become the powerful, luscious red wine that the area is so famed for.
The rain gradually eased to a torrential downpour by mid afternoon so I was able to see across the salt marshes and lagoons to the Mediterranean.
This evening it's dry (!) and I'm not far from Perpignan so tomorrow I'll abandon France for the time being and no doubt take rain to Spain.
Colder than a frog in icebound pool.
Colder than the tip of a penguin's tool.
Colder than Charity....
That's what we have tonight.
I refuse to go outside and check the thermometer.
Our thoughts are with all those driving south.
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