Of oxcart tracks and other steep places... Quatrieme Part

Studying the map and visiting a few websites revealed a potentially interesting little place just west of Vence and north of Saint Paul de Vence.  All extended incoherent babbling harangues aside, les Tourrettes sur Loup would be our next adventure destination.

 

We packed our lunch and hit the road around 11h00.  The route was becoming somewhat familiar.  We'd already visited les hauts de Cagnes and Saint Paul de Vence and the path to les Tourrettes re-covered some of this territory.

Vence is another village perche' that comes recommended, but on entering that village along our way all we could see were modern residences and to experience our first honest to gawd traffic jam.  And here we thought we were in the middle of nowhere.  Ugh.

It was market day and some of the vendors were closing down their stalls and moving on.  But we didn't know this until we'd finally beetled our way up to the intersection where we would meet our goat path to les Tourrettes.

 

We have the impression that a lot of people live in the hills up behind Cagnes sur Mer. Even in the dead of winter and in the middle of a rather strong pandemic there are people in motion.  Houses and swimming pools dot the area in surprising density.  If one were trying to get away from the Great Unwashed, this wouldn't be the place to do it.

Still, our visit to les Tourrettes was very pleasant and there were few people in the village perche' itself.  This seemed a consistent theme.  People might be out and about in their vehicles going hither and thither, but all of our visits to these hilltop towns have been quiet and nearly devoid of other human life.

 

We bought what turned out to be a wonderful  loaf of bread from a les Tourrettes boulangerie and hit the road back to Nice.  With the 18h00 curfew there tends to be a bit of traffic starting around 16h00.

There'd been no one around when we turned onto the goat path toward Vence, so we were surprised to hear a *honk* and to see in the rearview mirrors a late-middle-age woman giving an exasperated gesture (throwing her hands up in the air).  

She was Clearly Annoyed.  We were blocking her rapid progress.  The speed was clearly marked as limited to 50km/hr.  We were doing, um, yes, 50km/hr. Not good enough, I guess.

Fortunately for all concerned there was a short straight just around the next corner.  We could hear the big VW 4x4 V8 spool up as she blasted by and disappeared around the next (somewhat sharp) bend.

Wherein we learn that the locals know their roads better than the French authorities who are responsible for public health and safety as well as signage.

It is certain this will not be the last time we Clearly Annoy the locals.  

 

[more photos here]

Of oxcart tracks and other steep places... Troisieme Part

Finally getting the hang of this driving around the French Riviera thing, we struck out for the pretty little border town called Menton.  We'd heard that things might be a little dead there, what with Covid sprouting out all over this part of France, and such.

Tappity tap tap tap into the GPS goes an address and the English accented bint starts telling us where to go.  So go we obediently did.

 

Taking the Upper Corniche to avoid the really twisty narrow roads that snake their way along the coast.  There were still  plenty of things to see inland.  Take pine trees, for instance.  Hadn't seen pine trees like these in forever.  Scrawny little things.  Hunched against dry granite hills.

Off the A8/Upper Corniche and down the valley into Menton, with the Lamborghini repair shop just off the street on the right.  Two or three cars were parked on the sidewalks, no doubt waiting attention from either owners picking them up or awaiting repairs inside the garage.  Pretty little things, those cars, though a bit out of our budget range.

Left turn onto a narrow narrow snakey shaped track and up onto the heights of Menton we go.  In the narrowest parts we have, again, inches of room to spare on each side of the rear view mirrors.  Someday we'll get used to this.

The view from the Old Chateau was reputed to be something special, so that was our destination.  

We'd been in Menton around the lower portions of the town last year.  It's where we might have caught Covid.  The regional train, actually, there and back had been filled with coughing/hacking/wheezing folk and, well, little did we know how dangerously we were all living at the time.

The road around that part of town was good for one car going either direction, but not two.  Passing and being passed could've been an interesting exercise had it not been for the lack of too many people being out and about.

After a spot opened up we parked the Prius and took the easy walk into the cemetery of Menton at the Old Chateau.  The monuments are typical Italianate nearly Roccoco structures.  The colors, when there are some, are garish.  The wrought iron is nearly always twisted into pretty shapes.  The view is fabulous from up there at the top of the hill.  Things (and people) were, indeed, more than a little dead up there in the brace sea fresh air.

It made us wonder how it is that the dead got the best views in town and the living had to huddle against the hill and in many cases see practically nothing.

[More photos can be seen here]