The Return to Maguelone Sunday 10th August

Kate returns to Maguelone

“I miss Florida”. The words were wrenched from me as I literally took the plunge and hurled myself into the Mediterranean Sea. Wow it was cold – well at least it was cold when compared to the mild waters off the Florida east coast. But within about five minutes, my body had adjusted and I could close my mouth instead of keeping it in a surprised “O” and I began to enjoy the experience of actually feeling cool for the first time in ages. Jean had also decided to risk it and I could tell by the look on his face that he was having similar feelings at first, but after a while, despite being only a few in number, those of us braving the initial shock were thoroughly enjoying the water.

We weren’t exactly up with the lark this morning, but I was grateful that apart from a bit of creaking around my ankles, I really wasn’t too stiff after the long hike yesterday. A plan to head down to Maguelone beach had been mooted last night and we had sort of left it up in the air, but since there was yet another blue sky and light breeze to welcome us on waking, we quickly packed a picnic and had a good look at the map before heading off down the major A9 route south of Montpellier, and then swinging southwards down to the coast.

Maguelone is west of the flashy coastal resorts of Carnon, Palavas Les Flots and La Grande Motte, and instead of the spandex and ice cream brigade, it tends to attract the cyclists, campers and nature lovers. The last time we went there was nearly twenty years back and in those days, you drove along the sandy track that led behind the dunes, and if you were lucky enough to find a parking place, you simply scrambled up and over and you were on the beach.

The great thing about Maguelone beach is that it is a naturist beach and it is the first one that Jean ever introduced me to. My initial shock was dispelled very quickly when I discovered that everyone was basically wearing the same coloured swimming costume and were all minding their own business. I have subsequently become an aficionado of naturist beaches and we always had our favourite spot on Haulover Beach in north Miami.

We held Maguelone in such high affection that when we started farming in South Africa, our business name was Magellon, but never once in those far off days did I think that it would become our local beach. Now, on a Sunday morning if we get going early enough to beat the breakfast crowd, we can still be eating breakfast at 8am and in the water by 9am which isn’t bad going, considering that in the same amount of time, we can drive north and be high in the Cevennes Mountains enjoying coffee and a croissant. What a change from Florida where we would have to travel for at least seven hours to see a bump in the ground.

This time we discovered that Maguelone had undergone a bit of development, but once we had paid our 4 Euros for parking, we found that the beach was just as pleasant and unspoiled, the dunes were now being protected, and the sandy track had been paved and was in good use by a large number of cyclists.

Having soaked up the sun and enjoyed a swim, we felt that rather than wait to be baked alive on the beach, we would move on. We were just about to return to the car when the little tractor train pulled up alongside us, so we hopped aboard and took the free run all along the back of the beach until it reached the beautiful old Maguelone Cathedral situated on a spit of land in the Etang which is the name given to the inland bodies of water which make up the coastline in this area.

This wonderful old building dates back to the 10th Century, but during the unpleasant religious upheavals of the early 1800’s, it was decreed that the cathedral be pulled down and the stones used for building the Canal du Midi. Apparently a great number were used and areas of the cathedral were badly damaged, but skill, a lot of determination and finance have led to the cathedral being rebuilt exactly as it was, and it is easy to walk beneath the great vaulted roof and imagine the monks at prayer.

We decided that having had a very quick look at Villeneuve de Maguelone, we would take ourselves and our picnic home and enjoy it under our own tree in the courtyard, from where it was only a short walk to a cool dark bedroom and a good snooze.

The leeks are in! This is merely a passing note for the gardeners amongst you. The drip irrigation is working well and we rushed in at lunchtime and made little paper hats for the lettuce plants which were looking about as sunburnt as we were when we got home. They have perked up a treat and the courgette plants have all grown a new leaf since we planted them last evening. We replanted the mint underneath the dripping irrigation tap and roast lamb with mint sauce can’t be far behind. The beans that are supposed to be bush beans are now crawling up the sticks which we have provided, and I am keeping a close watch out for either Jack or a Giant or both.

My cooking is returning to its adventurous state and tonight there is a breast of chicken which has been flattened by beating it with a wine bottle (I know how it feels occasionally) and stuffed with mushrooms, peppers, onions, garlic and wine and of course the obligatory herbes de Provence. About the only thing that we don’t use these on are the bowls of cereal in the morning. The chicken is being cooked on the barbeque as I write, and the smells are becoming increasingly delicious so it’s goodnight from me and it’s goodnight from him.