This is the largest reservoir in France, created as a result of a hydro-electric dam in the 70s. The water is the most fabulous turquoise colour and not surprisingly a magnet for tourists. (Funny how I already consider myself a local.)
There were plenty of folks swimming and fishing.
The mister took the big kids out on a little paddle-yourself boat, up towards where the river empties into the reservoir.
There were plenty of parachutists dropping down on the grass next to the lake as well. Lots to look at.
For lunch we headed to the small village of Les Salles sur Verdon.
This was the view from the little resto where we ate, sipping our rosé.
Les Salles sur Verdon has a bit of a sad story. The original village now lies at the bottom of Lac de St Croix, sacrificed to give the good people of France reliable electricity.
As you'd expect, the locals were not happy about the forced move to their new village in January, 1974. Apparently the last two inhabitants had to be removed by the gendarmerie. All the history, the memories, the church (which was dynamited before flooded) and valuable truffle producing land were lost.
At least the cemetery residents were dug up and relocated. Imagine going for a swim and feeling something boney grabbing at your ankle*....
The tourism centre at the heart of the village. I think that is one of the original town's relocated fountains.
With all the old churches and cathedrals I've been exploring lately, I really noticed how new this one looked.
Loved the brickwork pattern.
Inside the stained glass was definitely more modern:
But still stunning. I can sort of make out people in these ones, I think.
Late summer sun was shining through the stained glass, making beautiful patterns on the church pews and carpet.
I almost had a little photography tantrum in the church as I just couldn't capture the real beauty of this light. This photo doesn't do it justice, but the dark pews and bright light made for a very difficult picture taking scenario. More training required!
In other news, I stripped the neighbour's fig tree nude, gathering over 2 kgs (4.5 lbs) of fruit. I couldn't stand to see it go to waste, so I made some fig jam.
Well, not really fig jam. I bought the jamsetter and then nearly died when it said I needed to add 2 kgs of sugar! Unbelievable given the recipe called for 1.7 kgs of fruit. I couldn't smother the already sweet little bodies of my figs in such a way, so I just went with figs, lemon zest and lemon juice. With a hint of cinnamon and cloves to spice it up a bit.
It was still nice and thick, but the trade off was having to slow cook it for longer, so a bit more of a stewed fruit consistency (which doesn't bother me at all) and sadly the loss of the beautiful fuchsia/purple colour.
But seriously, 2 kgs of sugar! There's no way. I'm saving those fat cells for cheese.
*Oh Stephen King, because of you I can't take a bath (The Shining), take a shower (It) or swim in a lake (The Raft) without having a heart attack. I wish I could quit you, but I c'aint.