At Pezenas: Lake Salagou and Moureze

October 13, 2017

Today is a layover day, and on the agenda is a loop ride of some sort. I haven't thought about where to go; I was just confident that when the time comes to decide, a worthy destination will emerge. I was right - over dinner last night, our server suggested Lake Salagou, even brings up a website for it and starts showing us photographs.

Salagou is an important spot to this delightful young woman and her charming husband, the chef. They were there when she looked like a melon, eight months pregnant. This must have been About March, because her daughter, Rose, is only six months old. The couple are from Lille, and moved here about three years ago to convert this small space from the pizzeria it had been for decades.

The restaurant is a wonder - easily the best of France this year, and about tied for best of tour with the wonderful mountain hotel in Castellar de n'Hug, our last night in Spain. Very different places of course, but both very special in different ways. In both of them, the food is great (but I can't smell or taste, so what do I know?), but the people are what really nail the place to the leader board.

The woman here is so warm, so natural and fresh. She's always smiling, interacting with someone. I first noticed her last night, stumbling around trying to find our room - it's in a tiny, narrow street embedded in a maze of other like ones. After two previous assists have steered me to the street beside this restaurant, I arrive here and still don't get it. She's in the front door of the restaurant, in animated conversation with some couple. She always has her antennae out though, senses we're here, looks up, smiles, and gives us the final nudge in the correct direction.

So we come back here for dinner a half hour later. We're the first customers of the evening of course, because it's only seven and we're Americans. She and her husband greet us warmly, invite us to our table, and she brings over the menu board, describes every option in detail in fine English and elan - she's a bit of an actress or maybe a dancer, I'd say. We make our choices. Wow.

For starters, Rachael has a complex chickpea salad, and I a marinated anchovy salad garnished with artichoke leaves. For mains: tuna with a green olive sauce, and duck breast. All four are amazing, as are the deserts. Rachael has the specialty of the moment, a home-made inspiration: Tatatin! When our server describes it, she pronounces its name with a staccato, singsong flair: ta-ta-tin!

We seldom repeat a restaurant on a tour - perhaps once every other tour. This is the one. We haven't seen anything else in town yet, but we don't bother - we know where the best meal in town will be. Tonight, we'll enjoy just as fine a spread, maybe even a bit better.

A Menu to remember. I wish we'd had the presence to capture a video of it being read to us.

We could have included a photo of every dish from both meals here - they were all worth it. Just the one though. This is my marinated anchovy salad, with artichoke.

Wonderful - a couple to be celebrated, and envied a bit. It's like the Argentinian bikers in Carcassonne - they're in the moment, in love with each other and their lives in front of them.

We're eating at our B&B this morning and the next. When we emerge from our rooms at eight, we're greeted by Regina, yet another very warm, engaging person (what's with the people in this region, anyway?). There's some discussion about where to sit - here in the dining room, or out in the open patio. It's cold, Rachael is cold, she's certain she wants to eat here. Regina is gently encouraging us to check out the alternative, so we follow her, Rachael sceptically.

We eat outdoors. There's an overhead heater radiating down, although two other diners are in the best spots for benefitting from it. Good enough though, and we sit down. I go back to the room and fetch Rachael's jacket for an additional layer, which does the trick. She's fine now, but even finer a few minutes later when Regina returns and drapes a woolen shawl across her shoulders.

Speaking of being in the moment, Rachael is feeling the glow here herself.

We're in Pezenas for two nights because of its reputation as one of the finest small towns in this region, Herault. It's a city of history and the arts. Moliere dwelt here. We didn't see a thing last night other than our warren of tiny streets and the restaurant. We'd better go check the place out.

We take our tour, first thing after breakfast. We decide to do it now, before we squander all of our free time on the bike ride somehow and return too late. To our delight, the town's reputation is well deserved. Beautiful old structures, iron grill work, weathered shutters, monumental architecture, street life, pedestrianized historical core, the works.

Our B&B in Pezenas, Regina's place. Stay here if you're in the region, but check your map carefully and allow time for getting lost finding it.

Here she is again, the woman from our restaurant! Do you suppose her whole day is like this, waving and smiling to friends everywhere she goes?

This saddened me when I saw this journal on the stands. Jean Rochefort, one of my favorite French actors, passed on a few days ago. We saw him in a number of roles over the years, most memorably for me as the lead in The Hairdresser's Husband.

In Pezenas. Moliere, probably the town's most renowned figure, lived here for part of his theatrical career.

We have a fairly short ride today - a forty miler to Lake Salagou and back. We rope Moureze into the route as well, because I read that there's a cirque there worth seeing. We'll include a few hills, the most since my illness last week, since the lake is up north where the coastal plain is beginning to rise toward the Cevennes and the Central Massif.

Biking in this region is intoxicating, almost trance-inducing. It's the columns of brilliant white plane trees that line so many of the roads at lower elevation. They guided us into Pezenas last night, they usher us out again this morning. Then a break - vinyards, a village - and we're back spinning through the plane trees again. Hypnotizing.

Lake Salagou, when we arrive about ninety minutes later, is pretty alright - a large expanse of blue surrounded by red volcanic slopes - but it's less splendid than I'd imagined. Maybe it's the time of day - midday, and all the color is washed out of the hills - or maybe It's that expectations thing. Better to just arrive someplace not knowing what's there, and be blown away like we were at Fontfroide Abbey.

Still, a nice place and a fine spot for lunch. We drop down to the low point beneath the dam and find a bit of shade, and enjoy our lunch (the usual bread, meat and cheese - Cantal today!) sitting on a slope of pulverized red stone.

Many of the minor highways in the Herault look like this. Trance inducing.

Not far from Lake Salagou, and we're climbing a bit, seeing some contour. The Cevennes is not that far distant from here.

Below the dam, Lake Salagou. Lunch spot, in the shade sitting on the narrow talus slope of this volcanic formation.

I'm curious about the crystalline intrusions in the rock here - it reminds me of the gypsum-laced formations we saw in Capitol Reef this print, but maybe it's quartzite? Calcite? I need a geologist's perspective. What makes sense here? Emily? Anyone?

Lake Salagou. From a distance and above, the reflection in the lake of the red cliffs was quite beautiful, but too far off for a good look. Now, it's too washed out from the midday sun. I suspect it's a spot best appreciated at the edges of the day.

Lake Salagou. On the horizon is what I think must be Mount Aigoual, the highest formation in the region. It was on our original itinerary to take a day loop to its summit, so it's gratifying to get such a good look at it here. It almost looks like a miniature Mount Ventoux.

Moureze is all that Salagou was not. We arrive not knowing is here, and are blown away. It's a charming small village, a delight to explore before going behind it to check out its small cirque, a striking but minor attraction. Best of all, Moureze has refreshments! I hang behind Rachael taking photos, and when I catch up again she's happily sitting in a small square at a table in front of a modest cafe, beneath a plane tree of course, happily ingesting an ice cream bar. And they have beer. Good for her, good for me.

The return to Pezenas is a blur. Downhill most of the way, quiet roads, vineyards, vistas. And then, at lowered elevation again, the plane trees. Brilliant day, one of the best of the tour.

Where shall we go for dinner tonight? Oh, I know!

Today's ride: 47 miles (76 km)
Total: 1,208 miles (1,944 km)

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