Snow at Higher Elevations

Yesterday, after several days spent with friends in Belgium and the Paris region, I struck out for Lorraine to find more traces of my grandfather Grant. I abandoned my original plan of a meandering trip along old highways though Champagne and other regions for the fastest automobile option which was taking the A5 autoroute most of the way. My goal was the city of Remiremont, nestled in the Vosges Mountains and the Moselle River valley. It was 270 miles away and I wanted to get there before it was really dark. The autoroutes are anything but cheap (it cost $27 to make the trip), but one may fly along at 130 km/h (78 mph) or slightly faster if no one is watching. Flying even faster still were the TGVs that passed me as if I were standing still at 130 km per.

The weather yesterday was some of the best I've seen since arriving in France the week before. A lazy sun succeeded in breaking out from clouds. For a change there was no snow or rain. I can't tell you how many hawks and ospreys I saw sitting on fence posts or landing on some carrion, but it was a least a dozen. I enjoyed watching the rolling countryside as I drew away from Paris and entered Champagne. The roadsign said simply: "You are in Champagne," and I thought how fun it would have been to taste some. But soon I was in other regions at higher elevations and there was snow on the ground. The closer I got to Remiremont the more snow there was. There are several feet on the ground in most places around here and even on the rooftops.

I am staying on a farm outside of Remiremont in a sort of bed-and-breakfast. The two farmers who run this place are husband and wife, and seem to be a good team. It made me realize we have no distinct word in English for a woman farmer. "Farmer and his wife" seem to go together but are sexist really. In any event, I welcomed warmly Mr and Mrs D. who thought for some reason that I would be German. They were a bit amazed when they discovered a French-speaking American. Madame seemed very interested in my project as most people who stay here this time of year are going skiing in the Vosges. She offered me a bowl of hot homemade soup to go with the baguette and cheese I'd bought along the way. Soon I was joined by three scruffy carpenters who are staying here while they build a hay barn. They and the farmer drank Pernod and water while we talked a bit.

I spent most of today driving around the area in the rain. It was hard to do much else. I spent time in Remiremont tracking down the location of an old French army barracks and hospital where Grant and his buddies spent Bastille Day, 1917. Their ambulance unit was camped out in Rupt-sur-Moselle (the soggy, snowy town in the photo), about 7 miles south of here, and on July 14, with the war on hiatus for the day, they walked all the way to Remiremont to check out the festivities. By chance they were mistaken for American officers and were invited into the Marion barracks to enjoy a concert for the wounded soldiers. Grant said it felt strange to be saluted by French majors, captains and lieutenants when he and his comrades were lowly volunteer ambulance men.

Afterward I drove over snowy mountain passes to an ancient spa town called Luxeuil-les-Bains. Because it was above freezing and raining there was a mist rising from the cold snow that blanked the region. The tops of the mountains were shrouded. Grant passed through Luxeuil but didn't stay long. The Romans called it Luxovium and created baths with the warm mineral water. In 590, St. Columban founded the Abbey of Luxeuil, and I found a modern statue of the Irishman outside the ancient basilica. I asked about the thermal baths and found they don't open for business until March 1. I'm not exactly here at the high season!