France: Sunday, Sept 6

Taking 2 cars, we headed out toward a town called Plan-de-Baix, taking small country roads heading north. Charles and I were hoping we could keep up with my aunt's driving as she can be something of a speed demon even at the age of 84. We maneuvered through winding roads and eventually made it to the town. We stopped briefly to look at the local scenery: a small old church and a pasture with cows. Apparently, my grandfather worked briefly as a sheepherder near this village. My uncle pointed to a mountain with a plateau upon which stood a very large cross. I thought he was just pointing out the people hiking up there until I realized that the

cross was to be our next stop.

We parked the cars at the base of the mountain, took out the walking sticks and commenced our climb. Now, most of my friends know I'm not much of a hiker, and at first I was concerned. But then I realized that if my 78 and 84 year old uncle and aunt could do it, so could I. In fact, it was not bad at all as the road up was mostly paved and even. Only the last bit was dirt. Charles and I arrived first, shortly followed by my uncle and aunt. Once there, my uncle pointed out various landmarks of the view. I couldn't believe how quickly we had attained such a height. My uncle also asked me about the video of my grandmother he had watched the day earlier. He felt it was too personal and asked if would I be able to ensure it's privacy. I said I would. I also expressed my thanks at his taking us on this little outing. He made sure to let me know that it was completely his pleasure to have shown us these little out of the way places.

Suddenly, we realized that my mother had still not joined us on the plateau. So my aunt went to look for her while we ate a snack of dark chocolate and spiced bread at the base of the cross. We joined them shortly after and found my mother going down the wrong road. Apparently, she did not see the sign for the location of the cross. We escorted her up to see the view and then started our descent.

Once back in the cars, we resumed our excursion into more mountainous areas and ended up at a charming outdoor restaurant, hotel and natural spring called the Moulin de la Pipe. We had a delicious meal there on a patio overlooking a brook. Many cars were going up and down the canyon road. Apparently, somewhere north of us was an antique car show as many antique and classic cars passed by, one after another. During lunch my uncle encountered an acquaintance of theirs. When they learned that we were visiting from California, they seemed eager to talk with us. We found this everywhere we went in France. People were eager to talk with "Les Americains" as we were called. They would often point out if they had been to America themselves or if they knew someone who had. They were always extremely welcoming.

Back at our table I was a bit upset (at myself) that my uncle had gone and paid for the lunch himself. I had wanted to pay and was waiting for the bill, but apparently restaurants in France don't give you the bill until you ask for it. I told him that I wanted to make a gift of lunch, but he responded that my coming to France was already a gift enough for him.

Again, back in our cars, the confusion began. We thought my uncle, aunt and mother had gone to turn around and return south. But we didn't see them come back down the road so Charles and I drove up the road which became quite mountainous and curving. I looked at every parked car along the way trying to find them until we reached the small town of Ombleze. Although they might have stopped to see the waterfalls and such, I didn't think they had come this far. Charles asked if I thought I could get us back to Crest. I was fairly certain as we had borrowed a local map from my uncle just in case. There was no cell phone reception in the mountainous area where we were so that was of no help. So we turned around and headed home as it was getting late in the afternoon anyway and we still had to prepare for our drive to Lake Geneva the next day.

We got back to the house well before dinner time. Unfortunately, we missed my uncle showing my mom the silk factory nearby where my grandmother used to work during their earlier years in France. It turns out we never saw my aunt's car come back down the road and my mother had misinterpreted some gesture I had apparently made on the side of the road thinking it was a signal that we were following right behind. It was at that point we became separated after lunch. It was not a big deal however. Charles and I saw the waterfalls and Ombleze and my mom saw the silk factory where my grandmother once worked. We each had our different little detours on the way back home and all was well.

Charles and I went for a short walk in the hills near my uncle's house before dinner. A pleasant warm breeze rustled the dry leaves of the trees as we walked through them. I was eager for the next day's trip to Lake Geneva, and I thought it would give a nice break to my aunt and uncle that had been catering to us so generously...but I didn't want to stay away for too long.