Superman & the Neanderthals

We never thought twice about making a road trip. Our trusty second-hand Peugeot 204 was called “Baby-Blue” after a popular song, but also because it was truly that color. By European standards it was a roomy, highly functional family car. Because it was break*, or square-back, the boys romped freely in the whole back seat & were free to crawl over to the small palleted play-space adjacent to the luggage. #3 was either asleep in an English carry-cot** on the floor of the back seat, or in my arms in the front when he needed a feeding. 

 Jean-Jacques’ parents had returned to live in the Midi*** after a short residence in Paris. While we lived in Andrésy, we went south to spend a week en famille twice a year, once in winter & once in summer. J.J. never wanted to take the autoroute following the Rhone valley,  a straight shoot to the south, with no mountains, encumbered only by toll booths. He said that it was expensive and boring! His pleasure was to plan an elaborate itinerary on routes nationales and départementales. The purpose was to see different provincial towns, & to the extent possible, enjoy eating regional specialties. We usually planned to stay 1 night in a 2-star hotel at about half-way, petit déjeuner compris.**** #1 & #2 were eating like grown-ups. #3’s menu never changed. 

Any plan of J.J.’s would necessarily involve mountain driving. Usually I was a good sport about it & we always relayed each other. On this particular trip I was so involved with breast-feeding, taking care of baby #3, & to a lesser degree numbers 1 & 2, that I didn’t pay much attention to J.J.’s great plan. Wouldn’t it go as well as usual? Wouldn’t we enjoy some nice stops along the way? It was refreshing to get away, feast our eyes on storybook scenery, breath deeply of country air, & meet provincial folks. 

We set out on a Monday. We had made pretty good time as we traveled southeast through Nevers, Moulins, & Vichy. We stopped in Thiers to buy a few items of kitchen cutlery. The weather was fine, typically cloudy but no rain. We stayed overnight at Olliergue just past Thiers, a small town next to the Dore river, in a valley & not quite in the mountains. The hotel of medium standing was family-owned with no frills. Les patrons (owners) were dour, but I paid them no mind. Our dîner was a cassoulet, rich and well-seasoned. With spacious quarters, clean sheets, plenty of towels, attached bathroom & toilet, I had all I needed. 

As we drove into Olliergue, J.J. had already mentioned that the Dore river was swollen and torrential, an indication of heavy precipitation. I never gave it a second thought. My concerns were elsewhere. We packed up and set off toward Le Puy en Velay. We were climbing toward La Chaise Dieu (God’s Chair) at an altitude of 1082 meters where we planned to visit its famous abbey. It began to snow, but J.J. didn’t worry too much because we weren’t very far from Le Puy en Velay at 630 meters & he surmised there wouldn’t be much snow once we left the heights. In this he was correct, but the abbey would have to wait until another more clement trip. To be on the safe side, instead of climbing another thousand meters to Pradelles & follow the scenic route southeast to Alès, he decided to go due east toward the Rhone valley where we would take the autoroute: no snow, safer, & we could make up lost time. 

20 kilometers out of Le Puy we reached the village of St. Julien Chapteuil at an altitude of 800 meters when the snow started falling. About 15 km further & halfway to the next burg, St. Agrève, we found ourselves inside a full-blown blizzard. There was no visibility & the road had all but disappeared. I was scared to death. J.J. plowed on believing we could reach St. Agrève which he believed was at a lower altitude. Suddenly, the Peugeot slid ever so gently to the right, into a low-lying snowdrift. We were stuck. I was already imagining ominous headlines: JEUNE FAMILLE MORTE GELÉE DANS UNE TEMPÊTE DE NEIGE.*****  

I got past my mindless panic and noticed what seemed to be a small, primitive farmhouse, easily accessible from the road. So convenient! It was as if we’d parked just in front for a social visit. The windows were dark, but I distinctly saw grey smoke coming from the chimney. Were we going to be saved? J.J. trudged through the snow and knocked on the door. After an interminable wait, he returned accompanied by a couple of very scary looking characters. They wore shabby winter garb, and faded passe-montagnes.****** I was sure J.J. had found direct descendants of the neanderthals, snaggletoothed and hirsute to the extreme. They each carried a shovel & smiled at me politely, so I was reassured. About that time a large Volvo with a Belgian plate coming from St. Agrève stopped at the site. Out jumped a clean-shaven, athletic looking gentleman. Maybe he was coming from a ski resort. Standing easily a head-and-a-half taller than J.J. and the Neanderthals, he was a Superman taking charge of “operation rescue.” With his motley helpers, he hoisted Baby Blue back onto the road while the boys, myself, and baggage were still inside. This no-nonsense he-man advised us to turn back & in a trice he jumped back into his powerful car, & zoomed into the white nebula. 

This misadventure cost us an extra 250 km & 6 hours. No doubt we had a wonderful time with J.J.’s relieved & forgiving parents, but the trip down was memorable to the extreme. After all, besides la bonne cuisine régionale française, hadn’t we feasted our eyes on storybook scenery, breathed deeply of country air, and met some provincial folks? 

*Break - pronounced “brek”: a borrowed English word used to described all square-back cars 
**A carry-cot was about 18"x 28", a long, flat, padded box with handles & foam matress about 2" thick
***Midi - The French always call their South, le Midi (pronounced mee-dee).

****petit déjeuner compris - breakfast included

***** “Young Family Dead Frozen in a Snow Storm”

****** passe-montagne: special hooded head-gear for cold, harsh weather

Note: It’s  almost impossible to shorten stories which contain a sequence of events. The starred expressions are merely so that you won’t be left wondering about anything. I italicize almost everything in French, but I think you will understand most of the proper names & expressions, as they have crossed over into common English usage, or the French words are very close to the English.