As the crow flies

The day before yesterday, it being hot, as usual, we decided to head for the hills again. The destination was Gréolières, a village on the Roman road from Vence up into the Alps. The etymology of the toponym was none too reassuring: gracularia, the place of crows. Didn't see any though, even though there were a few birds of prey hovering around, mixing with the hang-glider set. By the way, the tiny village you can see in the centre of the photo is Aiglun, presumably the place of eagles.

The village was charming, with the occasional real inhabitant, unlike most of the bijou villages perchés, with their shops, nay boutiques, selling soap, ceramics, perfume and cicada recordings. We bought plums, a baguette and some raw ham from the tiny épicerie, and headed off for the ski station even further up into the hills. Like all ski stations, snowless in summer, this looked like something from the Bosnian war, after the Serbs had cleaned up and mined it all. No matter, though, our destination was the big hillside on the other side of the valley from the ski slopes. There was a logic in the choice: two words are important in the local geographical descriptions, adret and ubac, referring respectively to south facing or north facing slopes. The ski slopes, naturally, needed to be ubac, to avoid the snow melting too soon, whereas for a nice summer walk we wanted an adret.

Sometimes, however, one can be on to too good a thing. As we set out, the mixed sun and pine tree shade dappling the path was very pleasant, but when we reached the more sparsely covered upper slopes (and we're talking of over 4,600 feet up), the full strength of the minimally filtered sun began to take its toll. A strange feeling, fresh air and a leaden sun. Still, the wild lavender, which was everywhere, seemed to thrive, as did all the splendidly gaudy butterflies.

On our way back, we met quite a few people coming up the road with buckets and plastic bags, clearly out to hunt something edible. I wonder what it was? Too early for mushrooms, surely, and too dry for snails.