Duras, France: the adventure begins

A view of the awful stairs from the attic, above, and from the kitchen, below

Duras, France, day one

My ride from Bordeaux's Merignac airport was tres facile. I just followed signs for Toulouse, passing hectares of grapevines on both sides of the road. Before bud break, coming very soon, the vines are like hunched little men with raised arms yelling up to the sky. After about 25 miles of vines and agricultural lands, I got off the highway at La Reole which is on the Garonne River and wound my way through tiny golden towns including Monsegur, to Duras. I had seen the images so many times that when it appeared in the distance atop a great, flat-topped hill, it seemed like an old friend. I really didn't need the GPS for the ride. Everything felt familiar and safe.

I parked in the lot behind the tour de l'horloge and clacked my rolling bag along the cobbled lane to find Ken Blackwell standing in his doorway at the house he's named Puitsnoir.

A cheerful couple of a certain age, he and Barbara showed me around the house, including the rooftop terrace that can only be reached by a steep--did I say steep--ladder into the attic. I am going to amend that last sentence--it's not steep, it's treacherous!  I stood at the bottom fearing the trip up there, but then watched as the surprisingly limber Ken scaled the steps with great speed despite being 20 years my senior. I went up there too, and happily as all I could think of was that once I was alone, it was very doubtful I'd try to do it again. If I fell, who would think to look for me in some French attic--or on a roof! No one even knows where I am. I tried to imagine how one does this while holding a bottle of wine, glasses and maybe ingredients for a picnic supper? Anyway,my rooftop terrace fantasy was quickly exterminated by this unfortunate ladder situation.

The Blackwells set off for their other apartment on the beach near Beziers. I was alone.

I took a stroll through town, which was very quiet. Few tourists are visiting now, but there were locals hanging out at the Cafe de la Paix, also a wi-fi bar. I had un verre du rose’ and what was their idea of a chef's salad with delicious cold cuts, cole slaw, zucchini slaw and a sliced tomato. It was good and filling.

Back to the apartment for a nap with my U.S. Airways sleepmask and earplugs. I woke up still tired, but saw that even at 6:45 and not daylight savings time yet, the sky was still bright. I felt compelled to take another stroll around the town and I wandered toward the chateau and caught the sun just as it was bathing the square in a glow the color of rose’ and I felt lucky to have lived in that moment.

The sunset reflected on the chateau: