Drive to Gorges du Tarn

The next day we set off again, and the weather seems to be holding, until we drive straight into another rain storm (or maybe the same one continuing to follow us). The ride is similar to all of our other rides: cute towns whip by as I read aloud from Heat and trucks try to run us off the road. There was an added bit of precariousness during the first leg of the trip because Scott was having some work crisis and wanted to drive while distracting himself by talking sternly into his cell phone. We also stopped to get gas at this huge market and I ran in to use the bathroom and was immediately taken in by the cheese counter. Those French don’t fool around with their cheese! While there was no shallot chevre, there was pretty much everything else and tons upon tons of Roquefort – because we are near the town of Roquefort where the cheese is made. The scenery took on decidedly new characteristics as we climbed steadily upward, entering an area knows as the Ardeche. We drive through treacherous mountain passes and the trees turn darker green, and leafy branches are replaced by confers. Then we came out on to a sort of misty plateau; visibility is poor for driving, but the mist makes the scene magical. Finally, after four or five hours on the road, we turn a corner after the town of Millau and are suddenly staring down into the several-hundred-foot-deep gorge, cut by the River Tarn. I had been getting a little annoyed about being cooped up in the car with super scary roads but when I saw gorgeous site that was the ride’s payoff, I knew I would have sat in that car for twice as long to see it.