horns of wilmington's cow

By anth

Viaduc dans le Ciel

Let's go back a night. I'd left you hanging on the Café des Fédérations note... Ah, what a superb place this is. A traditional Lyonnais Bouchon, which basically means a lot of offal, for not much cost. CdF is one of the best, and this was a return trip for us 6 years on from our first. The courses mounted up (basically you get brought an amuse bouche, a massive salady starter, then your choice of main course (in my case the tête de veau, with Mel playing safer on the boudin noir), cheese, then a choice of desserts (rum baba for me, complete with a bottle of rum to add as much or as little as you want, and a Lyonnais speciality, praline tart, for Mel). All washed down with wine, chosen by the proprietor as good enough to serve thereby warranting only a choice between red and white for the guests (though the red choice came down to two this night, and we wound up trying both the Morgon and the Côtes du Rhone).

Final bill? ?68. Astonishing.

The only sour point was a very loud American, in Lyon for business and being take out for dinner by two locals. He was, shall we say, less than discrete, and determined he could "make you a lot of money". Mr Conneticut rambled on and on the whole time, and testament to his volume was taking in every word he had to say without even trying, while his companions you could hardly make out above the background hubbub (nor indeed any other table's conversations).

"What's the French for potato?"
"Pomme de terre."
"Oh really, you know, in California when you talk about wine you ask what the 'terre' is and they'll tell you all about the taste and everything and y'know no-one knows they're talking French."
"*Something mumbled*"
"And then there's terra firma. You know what that means? It means you're on your home turf. When I'm travelling my girlfriend will call me and ask where I am and I'll answer 'I'm on terra firma' and she'll know I'm home."

The guy was a grade A top-of-the-class loudmouth egotist. But for once it didn't really detract from the meal, just from an already low opinion of certain types of American (I know that Brits suffer from this same disease, but strangely on this trip every Brit we've come across has at least been making an effort with the language, which is really encouraging).

Anyway, so to today, and a drive south to the Tarn Gorges (on an empty stomach, and I get grumpy when I've not eaten properly during the day), which is a stunning slash through the landscape. We'd been promised Griffon Vultures here, but about 3/4s of the way through and there was no sign. It's just as well, therefore, that we made a small detour to Le Point Sublime - climbing 10km or so u he side of the valley to take a view back. En route Mel spotted something big in the sky. Then another. And another before we knew it we were watching upwards of 30 vultures all circling over one field. It was amazing to watch, and a sight that would dispel most myths about vultures being 'horrible'. They are utterly graceful and elegant birds to watch, effortlessly soaring, with the aid of an occasional long, lazy, wingbeat from the 3m span. Just glorious.

With that having gladdened the heart next stop was the humongous Millau Viaduct. The French guide info calls this a wonderful feat of French engineering, neatly tucking away the role of Britain, given it's a Sir Norman Foster design. National pride aside it is a stunning achievement. Every bit as impressive as I'd hoped it would be, leaping 2.5km across the gorge. Breathtaking stuff. And we're staying within viewing distance, which makes it even better.

May have been a hungry one, but a great day all the same.

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