September 7, 2026
Condom -> Montréal-du-Gers
We missed the aircon immediately, stepping out of the side-street hotel with a hand-written invoice. Cloud cover should be welcome but today’s just seemed to contain the humidity, slowly steaming us like clams. We stopped to cheese out with D’Artagnan, Athos, Aramis, and Porthos, prepared for a day of swashbuckling, if need be!
With Condom expired, we rejoined the sublime Gers countryside, its sunflower and fallow fields now giving way to vineyards.
History rhymed today with a visit to the ‘mini-Carcassonne’ of Laressingle (PBVTM) where we chatted with an amiable Breton. A Roman bridge later provided some definition to a hazy day.
Montréal-du-Gers is also a PBVTM, and a bastide one at that, an early example of urban planning. Bastides were purposefully designed using a grid pattern around a central square focussed on commerce and not necessarily dominated by a church or a fort.
We were hot, weary and too dulled to sight-see after restoring ourselves under M-d-G’s ancient arcades and the village square was a parking lot on this muted Monday. Our reserved gîte was further along, so we’ll save ourselves for le vrai Montréal, as a fellow pilgrim described Canada’s new world metropolis.
It was a working farm and it’s septuagenarian owners shared stories and facts about rural French life that had us so enchanted, we savoured the mystery meat without question… it tasted duck-like but lighter and less chewy. Other incorrect guesses included frog (of course), goose, bat (which S mentioned when he saw them flitting over the pool) and deer.
It was a shock (and mild relief!) to hear we’d eaten quail – they must grow bigger around here.
It’s grape-harvesting season and our night was serenaded by the sounds of small combines and the farm dog’s instructions… yet more pretty peculiarities on this journey. 🍇🚜🐕
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