Tuesday 4th August 2026

Time to begin the next stage of the holiday.

Pack and then try to find the car in the underground lair I left it in on Saturday.

Wheels was due at eight, and breakfast an hour before, so up at six, and I was out the hotel at half six, walking the empty streets to the car park, then down the stairs as far as I could, and there was out reliable Audi.

I drove to the hotel, where Jools had the first of the bags ready for loading, and in the minutes before breakfast, it was pretty much done.

Richard had already confirmed to me that we would be leaving up the Col, so the question remained, in feet how high it was.

And could I drive up it, and down the other side?

Driving it is different from being a passenger, though easier at eight in the morning when the early cyclists were trying to climb it.

Up and up, round and round we went, until the car said it was 9,200 feet above sea level, and then the ay down began.

Both up and down the Col, we passed the sites we had botanised, and then onto virgin territory. We stopped for five minutes to see what was left of the Globe-flowered orchid, then back in the buses and car to the bottom of the Col, then along for twenty miles before taking a minor road up, and attacked another Col.

This was taking us towards Italy, but little did I know that after crowning that Col and descending it, we entered Italy, and into a busy town the other side, by which time our brake pads were stinking after much use.

After a week in the high Alps, it was a shock to enter a busy town, and the jams it provided where two major roads met.

This is where I lost contract with Jon and Richard, only having a “pin” of the last site we were to visit, and hoping that it was correct.

Google maps took us over another minor Col, back into France, and through majestic landscapes, with views of castles and monasteries built on hills or outcrops of rocks.

By luck, our next hotel was within ten miles of the last site visit: one for Ghosts.

We arrived first. Parked and had our lunch while we waited for the two buses to arrive.

Richard briefed us, and so we went hunting, over the bridge and to the left, up the wooded slopes of the river valley.

The ground was dry. The moss was dry. And although we saw plenty of orchids gone to seed, no Ghosts were seen.

I went up exploring the wooded slope, up a track. Up and up I went, before realising that I would miss the buses departure unless I hurried.

I arrived at the bottom of the hill five minutes after they left. Jools was waiting for me, patient as ever.

Just us now.

We programmed in the hotel, some thirty minutes away. Realising that I had no idea what we would find, so approached Puy-Saint-Vincent with some worries.

I needn’t have worried It was a large chalet style place, with a well-stocked bar and a restaurant. After a few minutes waiting, the owner came to check us in, poured us a drink each, and so with full glasses we sat on the veranda and drank in the calmness of the isolated valley.

Up to our room, upgraded to one with a balcony, we settled in, and I grabbed a well-needed 90 minutes of zedding.

Down for dinner at nine, we had three courses:

Gazpacho of fresh pea.

Cassoulet of scallops.

Liqueur ice cream.

And beer.

It was fabulous.

Behind us the fay faded, clouds built behind the mountains, as always.

After going back to the room, the storm broke. Thunder roared and rattled the windows, then rain hammered down, so loud I thought it an air conditioning fan.

|It was still raining when we went to bed, and fell asleep as the rain steadily fell.