The laptop came out today, it was finally time to see what Dolly Dashcam has been up to. She has a posh voice; and if I go over a bump, says “emergency video recording started” and an end message 15sec later. There’s some interesting stuff on the memory card, but probably to me alone; I’ll need to go through it at greater leisure. This was prompted by today’s outing, through the Gorge de la Jonte to Meyrueis for lunch, driving past towering rock formations that look d like castles and cathedrals. I managed to find a restaurant that only served meals containing Aligot, a delicacy that I mentioned about Millau. Menu du jour was Aligot Saucisse (again); starter was Chiffonade de Jambon, four slices of local air-dried ham with a lettuce leaf. This is food for a busy day’s shepherding in the mountains.

Another stunning gorge, with a few bum-clenching moments. Rosie would have been a quivering mess by the end, and I wasn’t that far off. Having checked the way back I asked the waitress which was the best way, over the Causse or by the gorge? “The gorge, definitely. Are you frightened?” You bet I was! I had the forethought not to take glass of wine with lunch, I asked for a tisane, and was brought lemon verbena infusion, from their own garden.

I stopped off on the way at the Maison de Vautures, a really good exposition on three floors, about the importance of the vulture to wild habitats. They are, contrary to their portrayal in westerns, scavengers. Their stomach juices are so acidic that they can even process plague and other bacteria and other unpleasant material, and is strong enough to dissolve bone. They are the garbage men of the mountains, cleaning up after the crows and magpies have eaten the first sitting, and preventing diseases entering the watercourses.

The reason for the chapter title, however, is that as I was driving I noticed the profusion of alpine flowers, in all colours, by the roadside and on the slopes. Stopping was a problem, so no photos; but not the first time my eye has been drawn to flashes of colour. On the hillsides next to the A75, climbing up the Pass d l’Escalette, the stands of Spanish broom set the hills aflame with lemon-yellow, while red and purple valerian completed the colours of the Languedoc and Catalan flags. This time I was higher, and I think I could see cushions of pink saxifrage, and small campanulas; what looked like aubretia, lobelia, and alyssum from gardens back in Dartford. Everywhere was a riot of tiny flowers. I wish I’d brought a flower book as well as my bird book; my father, whose RHS training at Wisley had left him with an encyclopaedic knowledge of fauna, would have been mind-blown with the diversity of species.

Before tea I went for a stroll on the Grafesenque meadows again, binoculars at the ready: there were parapentists up there, but no vultures. But I did look at the fauna around me. Much was familiar, the campion, cow parsley and tall buttercup in the hedgerow. In the meadow, there were tiny clovers and miniature pale violas that were new to me, along with bugloss and mullein just starting to push above the tall grasses. The stands of growing barley all were speckled red with poppy, for all the world like an impressionist painting.

The sign says the area has been acquired by a consortium of public bodies, to create a collection zone for the town’s water supply, and is being used to trial various planting regimes to suit the ecology. It stretches beyond the campsite for a kilometre or so, reaching between the Dourbie, and the Tarn downstream of their junction. Sand and pebbles cover the paths, and I found shards of red earthenware pottery I thought might have been from the Roman pottery; on closer inspection, I think they were river-rolled fragments of roofing tile, of indeterminate age. The Roman fragments I saw yesterday were much thinner, while these were more like amphora.

Tomorrow Im on the move again, to Conques, another of the most Beautiful Villages of France – one description on Tripadvisor says it’s a cross between Diagon Alley and the Hobbit village. We’ll see. Might have to buy more wine in Marcillac on the way, as I’m passing their wine maker’s Co-op, though I’m fast running out of nooks to stash things in.