Thursday 17 July

We left home at 6.44 am, only 14 minutes later than scheduled. Traffic was light and we had a good journey to Folkestone, the only congestion being when we went over the QE2 bridge at the Dartford crossing (see above). The 107 miles took us less than 2 hours, which meant that we caught the 9.20 Shuttle, which was half an hour earlier than scheduled.

We arrived in Calais and were on the road by soon after 11am French time. After exploring all the roundabouts outside the Centre Commercial next to the station we set off the right direction. The roads were empty by British standards and so we were able to make good progress. We did over 100 miles before stopping for lunch at a service station. We bought a couple of filled baguettes – big mistake!

We got back on the road and got to Epernay in good time. The 192 miles since Calais brought the daily total up to 299- should have driven round those roundabouts a few more times! We were at the hotel before 3pm and when checking in we were recommended the tour of the cellars at Moet et Chandon, in the Avenue de Champagne, just a few hundred metres from the hotel. We got there in time for the 3.30 tour.

There were about 20 people on our tour. We had a guide who seemed a little inexperienced but still tried her best. We were the swots of the class being the only ones who asked her questions. At the end, there was the degustation, and it turned out that we were the only people who had ordered vintage champagne. Well, those cheapskates missed out. It was the first time either of us had tried vintage champagne, and it is much better than the other stuff! At the end of the tour, we were, inevitably, directed to the shop. There were lots of very expensive champagne-related items on sale there, but at least Helen managed to find a fortieth birthday present for Fiona there. As we left, I made the acquaintance of Dom Perignon, as you can see above.

We called in at the Office de Tourisme on our way back to the hotel. They had a free champagne tasting there, so we had another couple of glasses there – definitely not in the same league as vintage Moet! We finally got back to our room, which was a bit cramped – only one star I think. The shower was definitely three star though, but the bed, which creaked when you moved, was a one star also.

There was not a restaurant in our hotel, so we had to see what was available in the town. The selection available was not great and we chose eventually a brasserie not far from the hotel. Helen had steak frites and I had menu with the same main dish. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t expensive either – cheap and cheerful in fact. Tomorrow we go to Clermont Ferrand.

Some pictures from the Moet & Chandon caves

Friday 18 July

As usual Russell was up bright and early making me a cup of tea. He was off up the Avenue de Champagne by 8.04 am and I was hot on his heels….After a short run – (30mins easy which wasn’t so easy at the end as hip still very sore) and a shower we went out in search of breakfast and a supermarche. We knew we had to get away quite soon as we had over 300miles to drive to Clermont Ferrand.

Leaving at about 10am, we were once again challenged by local traffic signals before finally escaping onto the open road (D3) towards Troyes. We had a 120 km drive before turning SW onto the N77, then N151, thru’ Auxerre, then Charité sur la Loire and Bourges before turning South towards Clermont Ferrand on the A71.

The temperature rose as we progressed South and the agricultural landscape rolled out around us. The smooth ride was punctuated by both Convois Exceptionels et Convois Agricoles – occupational hazards in these parts - they definitely make for more exciting overtaking.

At about 13:30 we stopped for a welcome dejeuner at one of the many ‘Parking’ along the N roads. What is interesting is how the French make these areas very user friendly with green planting and screened hedges as well as frequent picnic benches. I was determined to look after the driver so put out the Queenswood QUAC chairs and opened the virgin Tchibo picnic ball; we enjoyed a real French lunch of camembert, bread, tomatoes and peaches in the sun…(and I managed a large glass of local rosé)

At just after 6pm we arrived at the Relais Kennedy Clermont Ferrand and enjoyed a welcome beer by the pool in the 26 degree sun – marvellous! I had a quick swim then we were out to eat at the hotel restaurant. We had been treated to views of the Auvergne volcanoes en route….can’t wait to see more tomorrow.

Saturday 19 July

We managed to struggle out of bed about 8am, to be greeted by a bright warm morning. Helen did a short but painful run/walk. I did a bit longer, completing an ascent of Le Bascillon (549m) which very steep in places and therefore necessitated a fair amount of walking as well as running. I was out for 52 minutes.

We had a late breakfast and checked out of the hotel. We did the 106 miles to Marvejols in about 2 hours, including a refuelling stop. There was a lot more traffic on the motorway today, presumably because it was Saturday, but very little of it was British. We had lunch – sandwich and a salad – in the town square, sitting in 26 degrees of glorious sunshine.

We then went to collect our numbers for tomorrow’s Marvjols-Mende race. Fortunately they were waiting for us in Marvejols, which saved us a 50km round trip to Mende. We were very glad to discover that Helen could transfer her registration from the run to the walk (necessitated by her ongoing hip injury). It was only at this point that we appreciated the scale of the race – la légende; there were over 3500 runners and 30 different countries represented.

Our mission accomplished, we drove to Laguiole, which was about 50km away, bringing our total mileage driven in the day to 140. We checked into our hotel, which like the rest of the surrounding area seem to exist mainly for skiing. The room itself was spacious, with a small balcony- three stars. The shower was good but was positioned at waist height rather than head height, so that only got two stars. The bed was capacious, comfortable and seemed not to creak, so that got three stars.

We did a quick tour of the village and had a Leffe each at the bar. We then came back to the room and Helen went swimming. We then went out to dinner. Things did not get off to a good start when Helen walked into a lamp post. However, when she had recovered from the initial shock, we went out to one of the local restaurants. We were a bit surprised to find that the local cuisine is dominated by red meat, particularly beef served up in huge quantities, and a local dish called aligot. This we eventually discovered is potatoes pureed with cream and a local cheese which gives it the consistency of melted mozzarella. Though we avoided this, we did manage to have the best meal of the trip so far, a local version of lamb shank in my case…

We then went back to the hotel for a quick beer and then off to bed. Tomorrow we have to be up at five o’clock to ensure Helen gets to the start of the walk in time..

Sunday 20 July – la jour de la légende!

An exciting day; today Russ and I became part of the Marvejols-Mende legend. We each had our own experience and mine was particularly positive as I hadn’t expected to take part in the race at all.

The alarm went off at 4.58am and we were up in the darkness. Getting in the car to drive to Marvejols soon after 5.30am I noticed rain on the boot and as we drove the 52km towards the start lightening forked across the sky. The day dawned with torrential showers – the conditions were certainly interesting.

As I was to join the organised walking event I had to be on the start at 6.50am. We saw shuttle buses disgorge other enthusiasts – some in waterproofs, some not. All looked reasonably fit and enthusiastic walkers. I was glad of my warm Paramo waterproof, which I wore until the 2km mark.

The ‘race’ started late, after a long introduction from the charismatic and moustachioed organiser – he clearly liked the sound of his own voice. I said goodbye to Russ, who had to wait another two hours for the real race to start, then set off in pursuit of the leaders - this wasn’t a race of course! I followed a guy in an orange vest, tanned to a leathery brown and with grey ringlets – he had clearly been a reasonable runner. After reaching the first group I settled into a positive stride, walking purposefully and thinking of Steve Allen. A couple of women jogged past slowly.

After about a kilometre I was joined by a positive and enthusiastic walker, Janine? who came from near Argeles-Gazost in the Pyrenees. She was striking – all elbows, bright red hair and glasses. She asked me how old I was and then challenged me to guess her age. I was terrified in case I got this wrong, so erred on the cautious side with “quarante cinq”. It turned out she was sixty and did look good on the walking. She told me she could walk 6km in forty minutes and told me she was disgusted that walkers were not to be “classé” in this event (though we still got the t-shirt, rose, medal and mineral water!)

After discussing the merits of walking and the evils of running we realised we had done about 3km. The race distance markers were organised in the opposite way to the UK – on a count down basis, where after every kilometre the kilometres left to walk/run were indicated. There was also a useful race profile indicating the gradients of terrain already covered and to come. The race was 22.4km. The first 3km rose gradually, then there was a long step incline to the summit of the Col du Goudard at about 10k into the race. This was described as ‘vertigineuse’ in the local paper, and the words ‘l’enfer commence ici’, were spray painted on the road. A steep descent followed, then another ascent. The last 4.5k consisted of a steady descent into the finish in Mende.

Janine and I were soon joined by a very fit looking local from Marvejols. At 72 he had run the race 8 times with a best time of 1.45, 25 years ago. He had knee problems – hence the decision to ‘walk’ this time. This was the first time the walking event had been staged. He had also visited (of all places!) Cockermouth in the north west of England as part of his wife’s watercolour tour. Cockermouth is twinned with Marvejols! The unlikely threesome made good progress – we discussed the respective populations of Marvejols and Mende (6,000 and 11,000) and the main source of employment in the region (apparently looking after the many handicapped people who are brought here from different parts of France).

Halfway up the first (and main) hill (an underestimation) there was a drinks station. French drink stations are something else – prunes, oranges, cakes and sweets are all on offer, as well as bottled water and, as my new friend stopped to chat to his local friends, Janine was flagging – I had to press on. He soon caught me, though she didn’t. I dropped him again then reached the top of the hill at Col du Goudard. Having walked so far I decided to let myself go in a gentle jog down the steep hairpins. There were three or four people in front but I couldn’t see them. I heard footsteps behind and expected to see the two female joggers from the start – but no – I couldn’t drop my new man. We stuck together until nearing the top of the second hill, where I broke away again. I was getting excited – the real runners were starting at nine o’clock and the course record was 1 hour 11 minutes. I could finish before then and be the first woman (albeit a walker setting off two hours earlier!)

But no – we were all stopped by officials at the village 5 kilometres before the end. We had to wait for about 40 minutes for the lead runners to come through. The first three men and the first two women were Africans and the eventual winner was Nicholas Kiprono, a 21 year old Ugandan who did 1.11.26 and according to the local newspaper Midi Libre “hides a ferocious appetite for success.” The winning woman was Lidia Cheromei from Kenya in 1.23.21. It was hilarious to see the more competitive ‘walkers’ indignation at being asked to stop – many had no empathy or appreciation of the runners’ efforts or achievements. One guy paced about with his walking poles poking out into the course – a real hazard for the elite runners!

As we were released to walk/jog the last 5km the lightening and thunder started again. A tremendous downpour began. As the heavens opened I decided it was time for the waterproof again. I walked/jogged the final 4km (mostly jogging) but by the last kilometre was inspired by the crowd and ran faster than I have for ages. It was a pitiful sight – a muscular English woman in a rucksack and raincoat finishing with some of the top runners, but the French loved it and spurred me on! I was one of the first few ‘walkers’ to finish, and waited for Russ, who came hurtling round the corner in his own private race. He had pushed it down the hill over the last 5km, overtaking lots of runners in pursuit of another guy who he eventually beat. He finished seconds outside two hours, very respectable over the terrain.

I never saw Janine again, but maybe next year…..


The first 4km of the race I felt very sluggish. My legs did not have any spring in them and it was very humid because of the previous rain. I found the first climb to the summit of Col du Goudard (10km) very hard. I tried to pace myself but I found that with 1km to go that I was being overtaken by people who were walking so I decided it was time for me to walk myself, drafting one of the guys who strode past me.

The initial descent from the summit was very steep and I found it difficult to keep in control, especially on the hairpin bends. As it levelled out though, I began to run better, overtaking people. I was running with one guy for a spell when he said something to me in French. Eventually I realised he was pointing to the warning sign for the speed cameras! So the French do have a sense of humour after all.

I latched on to this very tall guy together we cut through the field. At a water station he stopped while I ran on. As we approached the climb to Chabrits, I felt I was running well and was able to keep overtaking people. At the top of the climb, I was overtaken by a grey haired guy in a vest that bore the legend ‘Grenade 31’. I followed him and together we were overtaking people all the way into Mende. At one point, the Grenade almost dropped me but I managed to get back to him. As we got towards the town centre there was a bit of uphill and I managed to get in front of him, then I thought ‘Oh shit, what am I going to do now – he knows how far to the finish and I don’t!’ There was nothing for it but to keep going. Fortunately we went round the bend and the finish was there. I crossed the line in 2 hours and 4 seconds, to be greeted by a very excited Helen (see above).

After the race, we had a beer while sheltering from yet another deluge. then we caught the coach back to Marvejols. The enjoyment of the scenery was a little marred by the lady in the coach two seats ahead who was sick. We arrived and went in search of a restaurant for lunch. We found one, which had the slowest service in the world, so bad that even the French people there complained. The salads we had to eat were OK though.

We drove back to Laguiole and had our well-deserved showers. We went to the local brasserie in our matching Marvejol-Mende tee shirts, much admired by the proprietor. The choice on the menu was not great but who can argue with steak and frites for 11 Euros?

Monday 21 July

Today we allowed ourselves the luxury of a lie-in. I did a run of 36 minutes very slowly, while Helen went for a swim in the hotel’s well appointed swimming pool. We then went into town and bought some croissants, pain au choclats and croissants d’ amande then ate them over the road from the boulangerie at the tabac-bar. After breakfast we bought a local newspaper with a report of yesterday’s race in it and then went to the Office de Tourism, which was very crowded, to get details of local walks.

We went back to the supermarket next to the hotel to buy provisions for lunch. Then we drove to the ski station six miles away, where the cross country ski runs double in the summer as walking trails. We of course opted for the longest – 9.7km. It was a beautiful sunny day and the wild flowers were all in bloom. We saw only four other walkers, all within the first kilometre, then the only other humans we saw were a couple of guys digging up some plants, who had a dog that was rather too assertive and had an overdeveloped sense of curiosity. We walked for about two hours before stopping for lunch, which we ate on a grassy bank, accompanied by a glass of rosé – superbe! Then we finished off the walk and drove back to the hotel.

In the evening, we had a couple of beers at the brasserie where we had eaten the previous night. Perhaps because it was Monday, many of the restaurants in town were closed so we ended up eating in the same place as we had eaten on Saturday. I took the safe option of duck, while Helen was more adventurous and went for a local dish of potatoes and lardons in a cheesy sauce, which came with a large salad. It had quite remarkable effects on her system as soon as the time we got back to the hotel! The rosé we had was good though.

Tuesday 22 July

We left Laguiole at about 11am. I’d had a good swim – did a mile – 94 lengths of the hotel pool and Russ did just over an hour on his run. We’d had breakfast at the local bar/tabac again – pain au chocolat, croissants (some almond) from the local boulangerie – delicieuse!

First stop was Marvejols to try to get a copy of the Midi Libre. I had been told (assured) by a photographer that my photo would be there while walking up the first col in he Marvejols-Mende race, but sadly there was no picture of me! I took photos of the amazing sculpture which welcomed you to Mende and the twinning sign, and soon we were on the road (A75) towards Montpelier.

This was a spectacular journey as the motorway winds its way up and down steep gradients, sometimes over bridges and viaducts and sometimes through tunnels. The highlight was crossing the Millau viaduct – over two kilometres long and an amazing feat of engineering (see below).

Onwards for an alfresco lunch on a tiny road off the A75 in the sweltering heat. We had tried to reach a lake but after driving along a precipitous ledge had to turn round t the Danger signs in front of the dam.

Traffic around Montpelier was a nightmare but we reached Orange by about 5.15pm. The narrow streets at the centre of the Roman town were a challenge to Russ’s car – eventually we found the Hotel Arène and the imperious proprietress who haughtily boasted of the ‘private parking’ available.

Out in the evening to the Garden restaurant, and the best meal of the trip so far – artichoke and salmon starters, red mullet stuffed for mains and lovely fruit desserts. We were also treated to the owner’s excellent humour and great local white wine – from the Chusclan winery (we paid for that!).