Cold Play

There was no leaving the Provence without paying our respects to venerable Mont Ventoux. We were rewarded for our early morning detour with air like une coupe de champagne and grandiose, chiffon-layered views toward our next destination

Languedoc Roussillon- Land of ever improving wines

hearty slow food

and, in our case, happy nostalgic wanderings. Still, when we woke up on daylight-savings-fall-back Sunday, with our breath making clouds in the air, and “Madame le Camping” (think bathrobe, oversized pink scarf and Gitanes blondes)  proclaimed with laconic logic: C’est le changement de l’heure qui fait ça (basically: setting the clock back brings on winter), we took our cue to wing it

to the border at Perpignan, and to hopefully milder, still summery Spain

Great desolate plains follow rolling hills and tightly shuttered towns. Once in a while, on our slow migration south along Spanish roads less taken, we discover a hidden gem, here Alcaraz

The Parque Natural Sierras de Cazorla, Segura y Las Villas did not even figure on our map. So its pristine forests, unruffled lake, starspangled velvet sky and icy springs came as a pleasing surprise

As did the next day’s breakfast spread of juicy bocadillos with sheep milk cheese and tomato paste, leathery green olives and steaming milk coffee, at a park rangers’ hangout – the only busy place we saw for days. I would even have taken a food picture, if we hadn’t dug right in- it being one of the “days after” of the  5/2 regimen we’ve been sticking to in spite of ourselves….

Some Spanish treasures, like the fabled Alhambra in Granada, are highly visible tourist magnets. We got to enjoy its timeless beauty in crisp early morning sunshine, in peaceful low season gear

Lucky!