It's just a stroll over the mountain....



Looking down on Lesquerde

Towards the end of last year I had ear-marked some markets I really wanted to go to and see.  One in particular that really excited me was the Truffle Market in Lesquerde on the 9^th February.  It was on Sunday which for us is often not the best day but I was determined we would go and made sure hubby had it in his diary too.





The view in October - Via Ferrata

When he is not working he can be seen on the various walks, climbs and general grand randonnées that surround us.  One day he went off to pay the schools dinners about an hour later I got a call, have lunch without me I may be a while as presently I am on top of the mountain and going over to Lesquerde.  Four hours later a little dishevelled and very hungry he returns, I should have seen the warning signs!

Much to my shame I am not as fit as I once was and certainly not as toned as I should be but I like a stroll or two up not too steep an incline.  Where we live we are spoilt for choice as we can stroll through vineyards, villages, forests, around lakes and if we are so inclined even down to the beach but you cannot miss the mountains, they surround us.  The family have already taken to doing the local Via Ferrata but I declined and walked up the wrong way to see the view and what views they are.

So the 9^th arrives and I am all excited about the market, there will be NO parking so let’s walk it will just be a stroll over the mountain. Now, I know my husband knows my limitations and also my Mum is visiting and she is in good shape, but doesn’t really like going up steep inclines.  Are you sure it’s easy and a stroll, yes, you will all be fine.  The kids are a bit grumpy about having to walk and we have an extra one too, as we often do on the weekends.

So off we set, my Mum and I with our ‘old lady sticks’ and traipse off through the village.  As we start to ascend I look above me and realise this is going to be no stroll; and a little bit of me is really mad with myself, I should have known I KNOW what these mountains look like! The kids have warmed up and are competing with each other to be first, racing ahead like the mountain goats they are. 

The path is pretty good and the views are spectacular and every now and then I stop for a water break just to enjoy the stunning scenery.  The path seems to go up and up and the stones are getting loser and loser, I am very grateful for my stick.  I find myself walking alone and I start to breathe, really breathe not just panting but breathing the air right into my lungs, you can taste the earth as you breathe, it’s full of the garrique that surrounds us, which is the natural bush but just happens to be full of  natural growing herbs,  fennel ( hence Fenouillèdes,) also thyme, rosemary, lavender, sage, bay, it’s amazing; no wonder the wine tastes so good with all of this in the soil.  I pause again to survey the view and yes, I am sweating like a pig, I am sore and unfit but it’s beautiful, it is truly magnificent and I feel very privileged to be living in such an amazing part of the world.

We eventually get to the summit and see the village nestled below us, we hear the music and the hum of the market and now I am anxious to get there.  It takes a little while for us to meander down but we eventually get there.  Kids still racing ahead and in spite of a few scratches and grazes they are still in one piece. 

They get their reward of hot churros (doughnut like ropes, sprinkled with icing sugar and dipped in nutella) and play with a puppy while we investigate the market.

We see some vignerons with their maroon aprons and silver sieve-like medallions, from what I can understand they are inducted a new member into their fold.  We continue to peruse the stalls and get ‘caught’ by an artisan cheese seller, the cheese is delicious and especially after the stroll, but we buy far too much, well we were having guests for dinner that night. So many other lovely temptations, I try escargot for the first time and am very pleasantly surprised it’s delicious maybe that air had got to me or I was suffering from mountain fatigue but it was delicious. 

Eventually we make our way to the ‘truffle hall’ the smell hits you as you walk in.  A bit like the air itself  but much earthier and richer, and so many on display which to buy? I choose a stall that is as local as possible, knowing better than to ask exactly where, I buy my precious bit of ‘black gold’ and am very excited about having it, as the finishing touch to my starter of local ham and fried quail egg.

We are lulled by the smells, the music and a bit of the local wine, and I know I cannot face going back over that mountain, no matter how pretty.  So hubby and daughter ‘trot’ back over and go and collect the car and a while later come and collect us.  So we could have driven to the market, but something tells me we may have missed something, not least  ‘the essence of the land’.  I am really happy we did it but please don’t tell my husband.....