As you can see, we didn’t rush to get back to England, Staffordshire, Stoke-on-Trent. On the day after finishing the walk, we awoke to rain; not drizzle but a steady downpour. In St. Jean du Gard, Julia found a delectable umbrella in a knick-knack shop with a rather fetching handle fashioned as a duck’s head. We found shelter in La Maison Rouge, a museum of the Cévennes. And it was captivating – a folk museum which detailed in particular the history of the manufacture of silk and local agriculture.
After a sandwich lunch huddled in a ‘bus shelter, along with our mates from Perthshire, Jane and Roger, we took a ‘bus to the city of Nîmes. This proved to be a true bargain – 2€ per head for a journey of nigh on 60 kilometres thanks to the département du Gard who subsidise public transport for all and sundry.
We arrived in Nîmes with the rain still falling steadily, and the relatively short walk to our hotel involving a little soaking. Hotel Marquis de la Baume was apparently the home of the eponymous 17th/18th century military leader and it exudes an air of spaciousness despite being shoehorned into a busy, cramped street. Its central courtyard evokes a time long gone. Our room was very comfortable with views over the streets and rooftops of the old town.
The weather picked up – cool but sunny and clear, and we spent the next day hunting out the Roman remains within the city, the main one being the Arènes de Nîmes, an amphitheatre ruined by the creation of a modern-day outdoor venue within its walls. The gantries and terraces grate with the ancient remains. It’s a shame. We also took in La Maison Carrée, a temple but not dedicated to a god or goddess but to the ruling class back in Rome – an impressive exercise in Gallic fealty to their lords and masters! We meandered up through the impressive Jardins de La Fontaine to the Tour Magne, which commands the highest point in Nîmes. It’s apparently the oldest Roman remnant hereabouts; it commands great views of the city and beyond.
We also ate very well in Nîmes, particularly at L’Esclafidou just around the corner from our hotel, and at an Italian, La Piazzetta, in the shadows of the cathedral.
But come Wednesday, 8th May, we succumbed to our homing instinct. The call from the north beckoned. Besides which we had train tickets booked! The train from Nîmes took us all the way to Gard de Lyon in Paris. We stayed in the same hotel – Sleeping Belle – as on the way south, but it seemed more prosaic and functional than we fondly remembered it! 8th May is a bank holiday in France to commemorate the end of WWII, and so the 12th arrondissement seemed very quiet. Most of the restaurants were shut. We ate in Café Quai 33 on the corner of Rue de Lyon and Avenue Ledru Rollin. Again – prosaic, functional – but hey! This was Paris! It still conjured up a pretty good meal!
The next day, we took the ghostly quiet RER to Gard du Nord, hopped on the Eurostar to St Pancras, pulled our wheelie bags on the ten-minute walk to Euston, and boarded the train to Stoke-on-Trent. Arriving home we were a bit bemused how quickly we had moved from within spitting distance of the Mediterranean to the Potteries without using an aeroplane! It took us a few days to adjust to our new line of latitude.
The enjoyment of the holiday seemed to grow with reflection – we had seen some breathtaking sights and met some wonderful people. And the walk itself took us to altitudes we had never experienced before. It was a fairly tough walk but most people walking the Robert Louis Stevenson Way were of our generation and managing it comfortably enough. But the inclement weather and the heavy rain certainly added a degree of difficulty. Yes, part of our reflection was a sense of achievement – we had conquered the G.R. 70 very close to our 70th birthdays! Mmmm……I wonder where the GR 71 would take us?
