Tracking La Wells to her Lair

At last! After kilometres and kilometres of riding up hill and down and looking over my shoulder, today Kate and I went for a walk along country trails from Vaison to Crestet and ran smack dab into the very imposing stone-lined approach to Patricia Weels' home and cooking school. I hasten to note that I am not a crazed stalker, just a curious traveller with only the finest and noblest admiration for the woman. Here I am at the gate (one of several giddy shots).

But I am getting ahead of myself. Before all that happened, I spent quite a bit of the early part of the morning drinking coffee and reading, incredulous that even a jet-lagged Kate could sleep through those 8 am churchbells. Once she rose and went for a run, then we headed down to the bike store to arrange for a rental to be picked up later. I fear she has designs on le Mont Ventoux from this local approach. Of course if that occurs and I accompany her then I will be hounded by the notion that I should complete my conquest of the mountain by also climbing it from Sault. We shall see.

We drove to Vaison sud and parked on what most of us would think was a sidewalk, but of course is a perfectly legal parking spot here. Then we set off on what was billed as a 2.5 hour walk round trip, but took us about an hour longer, possibly because we clambered up to the ruined chateau en route and then enjoyed a plate of charcuterie and glasses of beer in Crestet before descending a steep and narrow path, ending in an abandoned small vineyard where we sampled muscat grapes and some I think may have been viognier. Shortly after we came upon some wild blackberries and sloe berries and those toxic things I sampled (harmlessly as it turned out) the other day thinking they were elderberries. Prior to that we had feasted on some figs in the yard. A very good day and climate for foraging. Kate has been scheming endlessly about the dishes she might concoct with the figs (possibly to accompany the chicken that awaits in the refrigerator).

Once back in Vaison we went to the cheesemonger and dealt with monsieur, who is all charm, and Kate took a lot of photos of cheese to show her mother. We made a brief visit to the bakery, and then had coca cola and limonata at a bar in the main square (not the bar where Glenn and Rosanna and I had the awful coffee). Now we are back in Malaucene at the Blueberry and I am enjoying my usual late-afternoon blanche while Kate has a pastis.