The hills are alive

A week of forests and hills - some excruciatingly gradual, some painfully steep, and even a col! The granny gear has had a bit of a workout and there has been a bit of shoe power as well. Flash, however, is living up to his name and is powering up the hills (his legs are steel springs you know, whereas mine are more like rusty coathangers). Wind has been boisterous of late - in fact if Dot and Aunty Pam weren't reading this, I'd say it's been a bit of a bastard.

First day (ending in Cleremont Herault for you mappers) was through beech forest, limestone crags and river gorges. It was a gloomy day, which added to the atmosphere.

Second day (ending in St Gervais sur Mare) started like a weird David Hockney landscape - lumpy red hills with green and yellow layers - and ended in the natural park region of Haut Languedoc - thick, very green forest over big hills, iviting streams and small perched stone villages. Contender for favourite town is Boussages, which is also halfway up the contender for the nastiest hill. Fortified town with rambly streets and stone archways and alleys - lots of terraced vegetable plots and friendly dogs.

The last couple of days (ending in Mazamet) have had some hideous climbs, but some fantastic dowhills. The landscape on the plateau is completely different with rolling green hills, cows and roadside verges full of wildflowers and berries - we even found some wild thyme. From the amount of firewood being collected and hay being made, I suspect it gets pretty cold up here.

So now in Mazamet, hometown of Laurent Jalabert. With all the drug scandals going on in this years Tour, the French still think Jaja is the best thing since sliced pain and have him commentating each day.