Moments of Inertia by Rachel Crawford

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La Garde-Freinet (30th September - 8th October)

Recently me and Natalie went on holiday for a week in the south of France. We stayed in an old townhouse in La Garde-Freinet, a village nestled in the hills above Saint-Tropez, with my mum and her partner.

I’ve been there a few times before but not for about five years. It was good to be back. It’s a lovely, pleasant and peaceful place; the perfect retreat. In many ways it’s just as I remember, but in October it has a rather different feel than it does in summer, during which I’d previously visited. Many of the shops and restaurants are beginning to close down for the winter when there is too little business for it to be worth opening, and generally it is a bit quieter in the absence of high-summer holiday traffic.

The surrounding countryside is densely forested and the hills are low enough to be covered all the way to their peaks in a foliage, giving them an almost fuzzy appearance. Autumn hasn’t quite arrived yet and everything is lush and verdant, if a little dry. On the plains to the north and south the forest sprawls, giving way only to roads, groves, villages and vineyards. Big umbrella pines tower over smaller deciduous trees, bushes and shrubs. The earth is the colour of rust, visible between blades of dry, brittle grass.

The region is a historic producer of silk, chestnuts and cork, and it still exports the latter two. Along the edges of paths one can find trees that have been stripped naked of all their bark up to about head height, and chestnut trees are abundant.

We spent the week going for walks in the village and the area, relaxing, eating and sleeping. It was great to spend so much time with Natalie.

We made a day trip to the Gorges du Verdon, a truly awe-inspiring landscape. Vultures circle above brilliant white crags between which, hundreds of metres below, flows a sliver of pure turquoise. Every bit of land that isn’t vertical is blanketed in foliage, now breaking out into autumn colours. We drove along the top of the gorge, taking in the vistas, then followed the road down into it, clinging to the sides.

After emerging from the gorge’s mouth, which opens onto a long ice-blue lake, we visited the village of Moustiers-Sainte-Marie. It too is a stunningly beautiful place, old and quaint and majestic all at once. Above of the village, atop a long flight of steps, perches an old chapel, which we made the climb to visit.

Then, leaving the village, we rented a pedalo and took it back into the gorge, gaping at the scale of the thing, peddling past weird rock formations and strange caves. If you ever find yourself in the region, I highly recommend checking it out.

Also, I drank multiple cups of wine every evening. It was great.