Our Trip Along the Coast

It’s been hot here, as we were told it would be. Montpellier is far to the south (for Europe), but not, actually, close to the sea – about 10 miles from the Mediterranean.  So the moderating influence of the ocean is, well, moderated (kinda like in San Luis; to those of us living in Los Osos or Morro Bay, close to the ocean, it seems hot in SLO!).

We spend some days inside with the blinds drawn (actually, metal roll-down shutters, the modern equivalent of the wooden shutters found all over Europe). But we have been getting out and around. A couple of weeks ago we took the train to Perpignan, a smaller city an hour or so west – towards the Spanish boarder. Paula found out about the 1€ train, and was quick to book us two round-trip tickets.

Perpignan is a very pleasant city, a bit smaller – and less frenetic – than Montpellier. After arriving on the train we walked to the Airbnb place Paula had booked. A pleasant apartment in a quiet neighborhood; our hosts were a young couple with a small baby. It’s always such a kick to hear kids speak French, with their little, fumbling voices.

Anyway, once settled in we headed out to explore. It’s a beautiful city, with its own mediaeval history (like most cities in Europe). Perpignan was, in the 13^th Century, one of the seats of power of the Kings of Majorca (yah, this was back when  Spain and France consisted of a couple of cities each; this whole Mediterranean coast was part of Catalonia, controlled by the Majorcan king).

Aux Dames du France, once a grand magazan like Au Printemps in Paris;

now a Perpignan FNAC store

We had come, though, to explore the area around Perpignan, especially along the coast. For that, we needed a car. So in the afternoon we took the city bus out to the rental agency (cheaper to get the car in the ‘burbs than at the train station, in the city center).

The next morning, ready to begin our self-directed explorations, I got in the car and found, uh oh, the glove box wouldn’t open. The glove box, which contained our GPS, the automated tour director, would not open!

Ah, we thought, a security feature of this car (a Peugeot 208, I think) – the glove box has a special locking sequence. OK, how do we get it open? Well, the manual for the car was in the glove box. Oops.

Several calls to the rental company later, we realized we would have to go to the agency to get this worked out. Of course the directions to the agency were in the GPS, which was locked in the glove box. But we prevailed, and managed to find the agency, 15 minutes from where we were staying, without too much trouble (and along the way we found the car actually had a built-in navigation system! Who knew?!).

It took the technician at the agency all of 12 seconds to press on the edge of the glove box door and pop it open: it seems the power cable to the GPS was tangled in the latch. OK. Only slightly chagrined, we were immediately on our way!

The town of Collioure and its sea wall

First stop was the impossibly cute little beach town of Collioure. After a bit of a hassle with parking, we spent a couple of hours exploring the ancient castle, the narrow winding streets full of tourist shops, and the cute little beach along the city front. But it was clouding over; weather report was for storms in the afternoon. And sure enough, we were no sooner back in the car when the deluge began.

The old fort at Collioure; note the Catalonian flag, red and yellow stripes

Hillside opposite Collioure, with its ancient fortification

We drove along the coast for a bit, very satisfied that we were dry. We finally parked in the city center of Banyuls-sur-Mer, another small beach town, to wait out the rain. And it did rain!  “Ça pleut des cordes,” as they say here in France (it’s raining ropes! Another expression is “… comme vache qui pisse; given that vache means cow, the rest should be self evident).

Anyway, after a half-hour of water flooding over the windshield (while we sat safe and dry, reading out guide book), we felt it was OK to get back on the road. The car had automatic windshield wipers, and I was pleased to see that they worked quite well; when the rain stopped, so did the wipers. I could focus my attention on driving, not flipping levers on the steering wheel!

One of our goals – well, desires – was to cross the border into Spain. But we’d just read that France was cracking down on border crossings (partially due to terrorist activity, partially to the major football matches that pulled in people from all over Europe), and we did not have our passports. Better just to stay in France. AND, the border was in the heights of the Pyrenees, well up into the thunder and lightning zone.

We got as far as Cerbère, another French beach town. The rain was only occasional now, so we persevered and drove up into the mountains, stopping often to admire the view. And thanks to the rain and fog, there really wasn’t much traffic. We had heard the border station here was deserted, but we were wary of going too far and getting caught in some bureaucratic entanglement. Finally, though, we came upon the station. Not much to see here, folks; let’s get back down! We did a quick U-turn and were happily on our way. (The station wasn’t much, actually; but we did accomplish our goal!).

Abandoned boarder station, France-Spain (from Google Street View - picture it with fog and rain)

As we drove back along the coast Paula wanted to stop at a winery, the Terres des Templiers (we’d read about it in the guide book while waiting out the rain). It seemed pretty special, and with careful attention to the road signs we found our way there.

Terrres des Templiers winery (from their website)

The rainstorm passed as we arrived, and we made the last tour of the day. The winery was, according to their history, started by the Knights Templar, who planted the first vines in these inhospitable hills. (And, I left my camera in the car! These photos were shot with my new-to-me iPhone 5C, except as noted.)

The mystical Knights Templar was an order of monk-warriors who dedicated their lives to Christ. They were established in 1120 specifically to participate in the crusades, and to protect those going and returning.  The Templars gained considerable power and wealth, and by 1300 the French king, Phillip IV, was deeply in debt to them, and jealous of their power. The Order came to an abrupt end in 1307 when Phillip had all the knights arrested simultaneously early on the morning of Friday, October 13 (giving rise to our superstitions about Friday the 13th, and the number 13 in general). Most the Templar Knights were subsequently tortured and killed (leaving a lot of unanswered questions!).

100-year old vine; roots go 10 meters down!

Whatever the story, it is certainly a spectacular winery! Located well up in the hills, the vines grow in rocky, chalky soil in endless terraces built up over hundreds of years. Winters are cold with occasional heavy downpours, summers are dry and hot, and the vines are not irrigated. A tough life for the vines means enhanced sugar content in the fruit, and the wine production method accentuates the sweetness. Rather than removing the must from the yeast to stop fermentation, as is done with most wines, here extra alcohol, from distilled wine, is added, killing off the yeast. This process preserves the sweetness while adding extra flavor to the wine.

All work with the vines is done by hand, including harvesting. There is just no room for machinery, so the grapes are hauled to the winery on the backs of the vendangeurs (pickers).

Most impressive, however, were the aging tanks for the premier cru, their top-quality wine (Banyuls Grand Cru). These tanks, more than a dozen of them, are some 25 feet high, made of oak staves 4 inches thick. Paula asked who makes these barrels? The answer: no one, any more. Making barrels this size is a lost art. Besides, they require clean, smooth, knot-free oak staves 25 feet long, and where do you get those, these days? These barrels were made from oak trees grown in a forest in the center of France to build ships for the navy, and are over 200 years old.

Massive oak aging barrels, hundreds of years old

 The wine ages for 5 to 10 years, at the discretion of the wine maker, picking up flavors from the oak, and from every vintage since the barrel was put into use (much like a well-smoked wood pipe, the guide explained).

Chalk board lists wine type, date, initial volume

Our guide (and salesman!)

Note dark areas on roof...

Other varieties are aged in oak barrels outside, exposed to the cold of winter and the excessive sun in the summer (although they do have water sprayers to moderate the very hottest days). Some wine is inevitably lost to the heat (the angels’ share, it’s called), darkening the roofs of the surrounding buildings.

Aged in oak, outside

On our way back into the winery we passed a large room with bins built into the walls, each with about 50 bottles of wine, and each bin labeled with the year of production. This was the quality control department, we were told, the “institutional memory” of the winery. The winemaker could open one of these bottles from a past year and verify that today’s production was on track. I was even further impressed.

Institutional memory / quality control (from the website)

Ah, finally the tasting room, what we’ve all been waiting for! The wine is heavy, and sweet; but always clean, never cloying. Incredible stuff! (But will it travel well, I asked? Oh, hey, the Templars used to carry this in barrels on the deck of their ships to the Holy Land! You bet it will travel!) I was further impressed (again!) by the attitude of the guide/salesman – clearly, we would buy, the only question was which of these fine wines would we choose? We chose a couple of bottles of Banyuls Ambre, a delicious dark amber. Now the only issue is, when will we have an event that can match this fine wine?

Home again with our find