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The delay when combined with the one hour time difference, caused us to arrive at Toulouse just before midnight. We were relieved that we made it to the car hire desk just before it closed. After a short while in the car park, exploring the controls of the white Renault 5, and crunching a few of the gears, we were on the Route des Deux Meres following the signs to Montpellier and Barcelone. Although it was not actually raining, the road was very wet, not a good omen for nice weather. Despite the large quantity of alcohol they had consumed at Heathrow and on the plane, both Mark and Pete managed to stay awake for most of the nearly two hour drive to Frasquenet.
We were all gobsmacked by the sight of Carcassonne, which was clearly visible from the toll road. Even in the early hours of an April morning the floodlights were on, illuminating the old fortified city against the pitch black sky. We agreed that a visit to this magnificent citadel must be added to our schedule. We left the peage just after Carcassonne and followed the Route National towards Narbonne. Shortly before Narbonne we turned off to the left and made our way on narrow country roads through a couple of villages, and then through the vineyards to Frasquenet. This approach to Frasquenet at night is the eeriest, culminating in a plane tree lined road, which passes the cemetery at the edge of the village. The cemetery itself contains an impressive selection of moonlight reflecting Cyprus trees, which add to the spooky atmosphere.
As I unlocked and opened the massive doors to the barn and stared into the darkness beyond, I was glad to have the company of my two inebriated friends. Having reversed the car inside and locked up, we then made our way up the steps to the courtyard and the house. I opened the back door and waited to be knocked out by the smell. There was no smell except for a slight mustiness, which I was not surprised by. The electricity was soon switched on followed by the lights. Bedrooms were allocated and sleeping bags were unrolled on plastic covered beds. The house was soon silent again except for the sound of snoring. page 86 Copyright Frasquenet.com |
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