The Little Yellow Train Part 2

Rain-spattered window

It  seemed for a while that our train wouldn't be crowded but then a large tour group from the UK showed up.  We all found seats, though, and I was able to get one by one of the un-graffiti-covered windows.  It would have been nice to be in an open car, but the weather really was not good for that--it did rain, lightly at first and then harder the higher we went.

A slide is a slide is a slide

Local village church

The scenery reminded me for all the world of the drive through the "canyon"  back in Oregon.  It was the same sort of rugged terrain, and we followed the course of the rivers, but the vegetation was different.  I recognized that reinforced sort of chicken wire netting used to keep the rocks from falling on objects below.  The ride was jerkier than I expected.  That, as well as the glare and window reflections, and simply being in a moving train made photos nearly impossible for me.  Maybe a better photographer would have had better luck. 

Mountain chalets, not terra cotta roofed stucco

Fields of dandelions

Who? Why?  How?

I have to confess that the biggest frustration for me was seeing towns, and ruins and not having any way of finding out their names or what they are.  A little map, perhaps, with labels of the landmarks we were passing would have been beyond helpful.  Again, I don't want to complain, but it is supposed to be a tourist train.  There were no announcements of "Next stop----" like you get on buses and trains in the SNCF and municipal systems. I had hundreds of questions buzzing around in my head...who lives here?  why?  What are these flowers?  How does a person get up to that house clinging to a cliff side?

Compelling view

There is a reason the roof line is so steep

We made a couple of stops--even though there are  20+ stations, but only 3 or 4 are regularly serviced; all the others have to be asked for in advance.  The biggest stop was Mont Louis, the outpost that knocked Carcassonne out of the prime spot as the main border fortress once the new border with Spain was negotiated in the 17th century.  The UK tourists got off here. 

High valley colors

I stayed on to the end of our trip at Font Romeu--a high mountain valley in between these two stops. 

Trees waiting for leaves

I could see condos in the distance, which told me there were ski runs nearby.  The climate is noticeably different here--the vegetation was a good 5 weeks behind that of home, and even further down the Tet Valley.  The fields were carpeted with daffodils, not poppies, and what were wither snowdrops or very small white narcissus flowers.  Up here, in this valley, I could understand life--it'\s farming.  Some  very contented looking light brown cows were already enjoying what I assume is their summer pasturage.  Lots of horses, too and plenty of mud.  I forget, in the romance of farming, just how muddy things get.  Fences needed mending, probably damaged by winter snows and I imagine that fence-line repair is an annual springtime chore.  

Not a bad spot to wait for a train in nice weather

And overlooking it all are several huge, dark=blue snow spattered peaks.  So many homes had porches or patios facing these mountains--what a view!  Lovely in any season that's not winter! I did have to put on the winter fleece jacked I had brought; my sweater alone over my blouse was not enough.

We spent only a few minutes--long enough for a bathroom break and to poke around the tourist brochures in the train station, and to take a little time to stretch our legs.  Then the train simply reversed direction and headed back the way it had come.  Most of us had given up trying to see out the windows or take photos, and I include myself in their number.  It was simply too jerky for me to get good photos, or even good snapshots.

Once back in Villefranche de Conflent, I saw a sign posted on the door saying that the train had been sold out.  I was lucky to have gotten my ticket when I did.  The bus connection back to Perpignan was right on time--just enough time between arrival of the train and departure of the bus for a little stretch.  The bus back had maybe only five or six people on it, but I was able to enjoy the trip more than I had enjoyed the one going.  I had no time constraints, and I knew where I was going and about how long it would take.  

A supporter

I was able to get really good views of Canigou from Prades.  It's a mythical mountain in the chain, and I was glad to finally be able to identify it.  There is a festival there in a couple of weeks to bring the flame back to the mountain, accompanied by donkeys and troubadours....it sounds very interesting.  

I got back to Perpignan at the expected time, ready for my hotel and dinner.  I had booked a room at the Nyx, which is a 2 minute walk from the train station on a street that reminds me so much of Las Ramblas in Barcelona.  After getting installed, I took one of the recommendations of that woman at the reception desk and had a great Italian meal, and got a little buzzed on one glass of rose.  (That is what comes of not drinking, I guess)  I can't say enough good things about that hotel--the room and the help I got from the staff, as well as the conversation, were exceptional.  

A very polite strike demonstration

The next day, a strike day, I had tickets for the 2:50 TGV from Barcelona., so I had some time to explore Perpignan old town.  What an interesting place; and I am planning a return trip for the sole purpose of exploring without dragging around baggage, in cooler weather.  I did not have proper clothes with me this trip; I had dressed for mountain chill, not 90 degree heat.  

Absolutely deserted train station in Perpignan

There was a demonstration of the rail workers in front of the station--all very respectful and civilized.  I have never seen Perpignan train station with not a train in sight in either direction--it was really weird.   For lunch I had a delicious salad-- maybe one of the best I have ever had--with regional products like dry and regular ham, olives, cheeses.  

The TGV was precisely on time, I boarded, found my seat and headed back to Narbonne, where I would transfer to come home.  I wasn't concerned, even with the strike, because I figured I would be getting in early enough to get some form of transport back to Carcassonne.  Indeed, my scheduled train had been canceled, although I never received notification from SNCF.  I was able to use my ticket for the bus that brought me back home, even though it turned what  is normally a 30 minute journey into a near-ordeal lasting 90 minutes.  

I was happy to be home but ever so glad to have discovered a new part of 'France.  I am totally smitten with this Pyrenees-Orientales region and cannot wait to return.