Primavera/Primtemps

Sometimes when you cross the Alps or the Pyrenees you feel you have travelled from one season to another in a matter of minutes. This happened to us dozens of times when we headed south for family holidays at Easter. One of the delights was to drive down southern slopes into spring. Today it was identical on both sides of the divide; like a cool day in England in early April, but a month early - flowers by the wayside, fruit trees in blossom, hedges showing a bit of green here and there, but the big deciduous trees resolutely bare and wintry looking.

Before we left Spain we headed to Mercadona in l'Estartit to buy a few goodies - I will miss Mercadona, I realise that it's totally lame to become sentimental about a supermarket, but the shop is well set out, has wide aisles that are relaxing to be in. Our local Morrison's is very overcrowded, pokey, a bit frenetic and stressful. A bit like England generally.

So, up we go on the AP7 towards France along with a convoy of refrigerated trucks from Almeria bringing 'five a day' to northern Europe. We took the motorway across the border and stayed on it to by-pass Perpignan. Beyond there the D900 shadows the toll motorway, it's almost as quick so we tend to use it to save a bit of cash.

On the slip road a group of yellow vest protesters had gathered, but it was 12.30pm. so they were all squeezed around a small camping table on the verge, having lunch, complete with tablecloth and a bottle or two of wine to share. I imagine even at the height of the Terror the guillotine stopped working at 12 o'clock on the dot so the executioner wouldn't be late for lunch...

We also noticed that a few cars had yellow vests on placed their dashboards, to show solidarity I suppose. Today Macron published a letter in twenty newspapers across Europe calling on people across the EU to reinvigorate the European project and reject popularist nationalism. There was nothing about his sentiments or proposals that I overtly disagreed with, but the lofty language and his vague, laudable abstractions came over as remote and elitist, exactly the things that had fuelled the gilet jaunes in the first place and has fuelled the rise of right-wing nationalism across the EU. With Brexit mired in confusion, Spanish national elections looming in April and European elections the following month it's an intriguing moment. Will the politics of emotion overcome the politics of reason, will the people of Europe vote with their hearts or heads? 

By the time we are back in Europe again, heading for Sweden in mid-May, perhaps the future direction of the continent will be clearer. I am not feeling particularly optimistic, not least because my own democratic rights as a citizen of the European Union have been deliberately curtailed by my fellow countrymen. Whatever happens in the forthcoming European elections we will be powerless to influence the outcome. Gill and I have spent hours mulling it over. It is difficult to be optimistic. One thing is clear whatever the outcome we have no option but to head homewards, probably for the last time as citizens of Europe.

We have considered a number of routes northwards: across Spain to the Basque country, then through France via Bordeaux and Poitiers; using the old N20 north from Toulouse towards Cahor and Limoges; using the A75 towards Millau, Clermont-Ferrand and Bourges. After some debate we chose the latter route as the most direct with the longest stretch of toll free motorway. The downside is there are few campsites open at this time of year and the A75 itself passes through remote sparsely populated "causse' distinctly lacking in aires. We have planned our route carefully mixing aires and sites, but it is made all the trickier by the French municipal authorities tendency to switch off the water supply during winter months.

Our first night in France we spent at Colombier, a village on the Canal du Midi a few kilometres from Beziers. It has a site listed in the ACSI book as open all year. In the event we discovered a free Aire along the road from it, so took the opportunity to save €16.

We had taken a short cut from Narbonne taking us through the wine country of the St Chinian area. It's an old stamping ground and we have fond memories of the place from the summer holidays we took here in the mid-noughties. One difference, back then we were travelling by car. The picturesque narrow village streets have been made even more challenging by the installation of fearsome traffic calming measures. Add to those the beautiful, but disturbingly cosy avenues of poplars and plane trees that line many country roads, and it becomes a stressful place to explore by motorhome. I was glad to reach our destination unscathed.

Colombier itself is a slightly unusual village. Half of it looks like Clochemerle, the other a bit like a new town. Maybe its proximity to Beziers has resulted in it becoming a satellite. The Captainerie area is highly developed too, barge based tourism seems like a big business, though not in early spring!

It was a pretty evening, however the photos of the sunset that Gill took do look wintry. It is going to be tricky to adjust to northern climes. It would appear from the forecast that we are facing meteorological immersion rather than a gentle transition. Aside from the gloom, winds of 80kph are predicted for tomorrow. Not a good moment to cross the Massif Central via the Millau viaduct. We decided to rethink our plans, move to the campsite tomorrow and delay our dash north by a day by which time the strong winds should have abated.

Well that was the plan until we looked at the campsite the next day. It really did conform to every stereotype you can imagine of an ancient, run-down French campsite. We decided to move on and use the free Aire at the Lac du Saligou, about forty kilometres north. We used it in 2014; it seemed ok.

Since then, the nice flat area by the lake once dedicated to motorhome parking has been fenced off and a new place established up a side road. The issue is that the side roads around the lake are dirt tracks made of compacted reddish sand. In wet weather they become a quagmire, perfectly designed for motorhomes to get stuck. We rejected the new area and parked on some gravel on the side of the tarmac road. I guess it' was ok. 

Anyway, there is nowhere else nearby to stay. Here we are, staring at grey skies for the first time in weeks, Gill muttering darkly that it looks like Scotland. I just want to get home now as there is nothing to look forward to other than hundreds of miles of motorway, aggressive French drivers and a week of rainy weather. We will need a service point tomorrow, we have to hope that the ones on the A75's service areas listed on Campercontacts are actually functional. I am looking forward to getting going. Sitting here in the middle of nowhere being buffeted by the wind is no fun, result - grumpy Pete!