On Friday the 23rd we got up very very early, about 4:30 a.m., and bundled into the car for a drive up the Cher river to the little town of Francueil where we sat outside a deserted winery in the pre-dawn darkness. A few other cars pulled up nearby, and then the caravan of white trucks bearing the "France-Montgolfière" logo came tearing up, towing a trailer filled with a big basket, tanks of propane, and a big bundle of colorful nylon.
We were going ballooning!
The professionals inflated and released a little helium balloon, and watched its path in the light breeze as it floated off, and then we all piled into the trucks and drove off to the launch site. My guess is that they have a number of alternate takeoff points, based on which way the winds are blowing. With a balloon you don't have a lot of control over where you go, but you can pick where you're coming from. We drove some five or ten kilometers to the east and into a soccer field where two other balloons were already unpacked and inflating. They use gas-engine powered fans to fill the balloons with air, then heat it with propane burners until the balloon is upright.
Once the balloon was ready and we had our safety briefing ("Don't touch the fans, and when we land squat down and face away from the direction we're moving") eleven passengers clambered into the big basket, our pilot Fabien fired up the burners, and we took to the air!
Fabien used a light touch on the propane burner, keeping us quite low for the first part of the flight. Once we actually brushed the upper foliage of a tree. We were low enough to see a fox in one cow pasture below us. The sun rose just after we took off, and the golden dawn light made the landscape gorgeous.
Staying low meant our balloon was carried along by the breeze blowing down the valley of the river Cher. We could see some of the other balloons in the air that morning — I counted eight, others said ten — had gone higher and were veering off to the southwest.
The strategy paid off as we passed directly over the Chateau of Chenonceau, with a glorious view of the house and gardens lit by the rising sun. We began descending as we crossed the river, and touched down in a newly-cut hayfield. The farmer cutting hay paused in his work to come over and join us for a toast to the successful flight. The winery where our cars were parked was just a kilometer away.
It was still quite early, just past 8 a.m., when we got back to the car. Diane and I drove across the river to the town of Chenonceaux (the town has an x, the chateau doesn't). We found one cafe opening early and got ourselves some breakfast, then hung around in the parking lot until the chateau opened for the day.
Chenonceau is gorgeous, both from the ground and the air. It was a pleasure palace, built by Henri II for his mistress Diane de Poitiers, then claimed by his widow Catherine de Medici, who basically ran the country from there until her son Henri III was old enough to take over. The house was built on the foundations of a fortified mill, and has a long gallery section stretching right across the river Cher.
The gardens are typical French landscaping: lots of gravel and show those plants who's boss. There is a small modern English-style garden which to my taste is much more appealing. Also a hedge maze, and — for some unknown reason — a pair of classic old cars. Maybe they belonged to Catherine de Medici.
We spent the morning at Chenonceau and then drove north to the banks of the Loire, for a sumptous meal at the Chateau de Pray, another Michelin-starred restaurant and hotel in a 13th-century castle. I didn't keep a copy of the menu, but I know we started with a kind of vichysoisse with tiny clams (almost like a cold chowder), roasted artichoke, beef with a wonderful broth poured over it, goat cheese, and a kind of deconstructed strawberry shortcake for dessert. All quite delicious.
I have noticed some patterns in high-end cooking lately. I don't know if this is a long-term trend or just this year's fad. The chefs are definitely scaling back on the butter, cream, and lardons. Instead they're pushing a lot of umami with concentrated broths and reductions. Portions are quite modest, really. The focus is on flavor, not fullness. Diane actually lost weight on the trip — remember we were alternating fancy meals with long walks through castles and museums, often logging five miles a day.
After two hours at the table we finally finished, and drove just a kilometer or so down the river to Amboise, to visit the Chateau du Clos Luce, the final residence of Leonardo da Vinci. Unsurprisingly, the house is now a Da Vinci museum. Because all his artworks and original manuscripts are in the hands of much bigger and better-endowed museums, the Chateau du Clos Luce focuses on Leonardo's technology ideas, with constructed versions of some of the things he only doodled on paper. The house itself is pleasant, and the gardens are quite nice, but I can't say I learned anything I didn't already know about Leonardo da Vinci.
By that point we were both pretty tired — it was something like 14 hours since we woke up — so we drove back to Tours, had showers, and went to bed early. A great day in all.
That looks like an amazing balloon ride. I was hoping it was a family business, but TIL that French for 'hot-air balloon' is just 'montgolfière'.
Posted by: Chuk | 07/27/2023 at 06:26 PM