With the arrival of June, DonQui now begins to slowly wind his way home to the Misty Isles in the far northwest.

He first heads along the Mediterranean coast towards the Spanish border, taking a mid morning coffee stop at Aigues-Mortes. The name of the town (stagnant waters) comes from the surrounding marshes at the mouth of the Rhône. 

It is a magnificent fortified town which came to prominence in 1240 when King Louis IX developed it into a maritime base in order to rid France of its dependency on the Italian states for access to the Mediterranean. At that time Aigues-Mortes became France’s only port on the Med as even Marseilles belonged to the Kingdom of Naples then.

It was from here that Louis IX launched the ill fated seventh and eighth crusades. In the first of these, against Egypt, Louis was captured and ransomed. In the second, against Tunis, he died from fever. Despite not having slaughtered quite as many people as the Pope might have wished, he did get a sainthood out of it.

DonQui passes the magnificent medieval city of Carcassonne. It may surprise readers that DonQui does not stop here for a bit of an explore. Even he, however, can take only so many medieval cites in one day and he has been to Carcassonne before. For those that have not been there, DonQui highly recommends a visit.

DonQui breaks his journey for an overnight stop in Toulouse. Once the capital of the Visigothic Kingdom it is now the centre of the French Aerospace industry. It feels like a lively, vibrant city — a good place to stop but not necessarily a place to go out of one’s way to visit.

DonQui was going to go easy on the food but then he stumbles across the Restaurant au Gascon down a small back street. Feeling his inner d’Artagnan, and tempted by the 3 course menu for only €21, he goes inside — emerging a couple of satisfying hours later.

The highlight of his meal is a delicious cassoulet — which is a speciality of this region. Cooked with confit duck leg and Toulouse sausage, it elevates bangers and beans to a whole new level.

The following morning DonQui turns his car towards the north and drives on, noting with some dismay the falling temperatures as the miles pass by. He stops for a while at Cahors which has a magnificent 14^th century towered bridge.

Not particularly touristy, Cahors has some evocative streets with lots of interesting medieval architecture that has not yet been Disneyfied. It known for its dark red wines made with Malbec grapes. And yes, you guessed it, DonQui picks up a couple of bottles. 

Moving on into the Périgord,  DonQui holes up in a small gîte deep in the countryside and far from the maddening crowd. This is a region of France DonQui has never been to before. He looks forward to exploring it,