Just moments ago, we were sitting half-naked in the Spanish desert sun, now we are freezing, bundled up in thick clothing in the persistent rain of France.
Deep Adam is relentlessly moving from Spain across the Mediterranean, absorbing vast amounts of moisture over the excessively warm water, and then pushing heavy clouds against the mountains of the Central Massif, where they pour down in torrents.
Gänseglück
We are experiencing a so-called 'Èpisode cévenol' with significant amounts of rainfall, where up to 500 liters of precipitation can fall per square meter within a few hours.
Severe weather warnings are broadcasted across all channels, school buses are canceled, and roads are closed.
It rains and rains and rains like it's pouring from buckets, the usual comparisons don't hold up, it feels like the sky is falling down on us.
The wind is blowing my cap into the canal!
We quickly leave the crisis area because in 2002 we experienced a cloudburst here with 635 liters per square meter in a short time. When suddenly three times the amount of water of the Rhine rushes down the narrow Gardon Valley, not only the lower roads disappear, but also bridges vanish without a trace, and it would have been the same for us if we had not smartly found a place to stay for the night on a mountain.
Barrage de Grandval
After the exciting journey through the Spanish wilderness, we look forward to a million types of French cheese and just as many flea markets.
However, the Sunday Occitan weather welcomes us rather coolly, leaving many stalls at the ongoing vide grenier empty. We all shiver in the cold wind, but at least the expected precipitation does not occur.
But now we are standing in persistent rain, dark clouds fly overhead, turning day into night, icy gusts shake the caravan.
Watch out! The anvil is falling on our heads!
We have no choice, we are heading home in our last week of travel without any detours. Because no matter which direction we look at the weather map, everywhere is gray, uncomfortable autumn weather.
Well, not quite everywhere. How about Andalusia?
There, the tempting thought of spending the winter in the sun of the Iberian Peninsula becomes increasingly charming...
But no, duty calls us back to our home kitchen.
Viaduc de Millau
The hero sweetens the return journey with fresh ideas for delightful micro-adventures along the way. And so we stroll with an umbrella, charm, and melons through small villages with views of the Millau Viaduct or with hot springs where I almost burn my fingers at over 80°C.
Hottest spring in Europe
The night by the Truyère begins to feel a bit uneasy for me. The river rushes, the rain patters on the caravan roof with such volume that we have to communicate in sign language, and the grass under our tires is soaking wet, interspersed with small ponds. Only when a second camper joins us do I feel a bit more at ease. The bus stands closer to the shore and floats off ahead of us.
Canal du Midi
The excursion to the Madonna at the viewpoint ends with a reverse drive out of the dead end. Once again, it was not noticeable that there is no further passage, and maneuvering is nearly impossible even without a caravan.
Zappa takes this challenge with his usual calmness, expertly steers the caravan down the hill with heroic courage, while being curiously watched by the local farmers.
With a quick nod, the red tractor is moved out of the way, and there’s even time for a little chat.
Tour Stage 2019
Monsieur tells me in excellent German that usually there is a fantastic view over the Auvergne, of the Puy de Dôme, and all the volcanoes, but today the weather is bad. Thick clouds are pushing over the mountains, obscuring the view of the majestic peaks.
Le Somail
Monsieur was born in Berlin, his father was in the military, and the little town in the valley has a partnership with Hofgeismar. I bravely respond to him in French because I need to practice, after all.
We slather each other with heaps of polyglot honey, congratulate ourselves on our eloquence and linguistic prowess, and arrange to meet next year in sunshine for the magnificent view at the Madonna.
Peyre
Now we grab the umbrella because we take another round through Châteldon before the wild ride continues over bump roads towards the northeast. In the little village near Vichy, one of the most exclusive and expensive mineral waters in the world is bottled under the name '1650'. According to legend, the court physician recommended the water from the Auvergne to King Louis XIV for its digestive benefits, which is why he regularly had it transported in balloon bottles to Versailles, making Châteldon the first bottled premium mineral water in the world.
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