WINDS FROM THE SAHARA

The only criticisms of this region, the western part of the Languedoc, are the winds. The weather is temperate with very pleasant weather all four seasons and generally mild winters. With global warming things are unpredictable as we had snow last month and in my first summer here two years ago, it got very hot (up to 104 F). 

While summers can be hot, they are not very humid. Closing shutters, thick stone walls and air conditioning, for those fortunate to have it, make it tolerable. It is reported that we get more than 300 days of sunshine each year. Bottom line, it’s very liveable and enjoyable. Regardless, the winds occasionally impose their wrath on all things not tied down and occasionally bring dust and grime. The Languedoc has the reputation of being the windiest part of France. 

The reason for the winds has to do with topography. We are nestled between the eastern Pyrenées to our west and the southwestern edge of the Massif Central to the east. This forms a virtual tunnel that captures and channels the winds according to their origin.

The various Languedoc winds, of which there are six, are all named and have their own characteristics. 

The first, La Tramontane, heralds from northwest Europe and skirts eastward around the Pyrenées. Forced south by the southwestern edge of the Massif Central, locally known as the Montagne Noire (Black Mountain), it makes it way towards the Mediterranean Sea. 

La Tramontane is a strong, dry, cold, and sometimes quite powerful north wind the result of a high-pressure Atlantic system interfacing with the low pressure Gulf of Lion accelerating as it passes between the Pyrenées and the Massif Central.

It also has the reputation of making people crazy given its constant howling sound. To be honest, I’ve not noticed it but perhaps in time I will become more aware.  Even the famed French author Victor Hugo called attention to it in his poem Gastibelza writing “Le vent qui vient à travers la montagne me rendra fou…” (“The wind coming over the mountain will make me mad.”) 

The second is Le Cers, also known as Le Vent du Nord (The Wind from the North). It is also a north wind that brings cold. It originates from masses of moist air from the Atlantic that flow towards Toulouse, then continue southeast towards Narbonne on the Mediterranean coast. Le Cers has the distinction of forming lenticular clouds and is heralded by particularly red sunsets. The farmers love it, but it can be rather violent.

There are winds originating from the Iberian Peninsula that travel around the southeastern border of the Pyrenées and the Mediterannean Sea, a scant 40 miles (60 km) away. 

The first of these is the Marin, a warm and moist southeast wind originating off the Iberian Peninsula in the Gulf of Lion which then heads north brought forth by changes in barometric pressure. It is characterized by heavy black clouds and brings rain and humidity from moisture picked up in the Mediterranean Sea.

L’Autan is formed in part by the forces of the Marin and is a strong northerly wind from the Mediterranean having its greatest impact in the Lauragais (north northwest towards to Toulouse) & Razès (immediately adjacent to my region – the Malpere – to the west).  

L’Autan comes with a warning. For several days prior, the skies will be crystal clear enabling views of the Pyrenées Mountains from as far as 150 km (100 miles) away. It can also be howling and like La Tramontaneand and even the Marin, it has a reputation of driving people crazy given the persistent sounds. 

Le Grec comes from the southeast and the result of the movement of a low pressure zone through the area south of Malta. It stimulates the formation of strong and cool northeasterly winds having impact in the western Mediterranean. 

Then, finally, there is a very strange wind that is easily identified. Le Scirocco is a southerly wind from the Sahara or Arabian deserts in North Africa depositing red sand. It is rare and we see it maybe two or three times per year. But it began two days ago and we woke up yesterday to red sand everywhere….

My car, deck, and deck furniture are covered with sand. So unless we get a clear rain soon, I’ll be out washing things down. Fortunately rain is forecasted this week so the need for me to clean may be eliminated. 

Even the Pyrenées were cast with a red hue.

Yesterday was hazy with the clouds hanging over the region. Even the news reported on it as it was fairly substantial across the region as far east as Lyon with the headline “A part of France under an orange sky this Saturday” (see blog cover photo from Depeche Midi, February 6, 2021).

Today we woke up to clear skies and spectacular views once again. The relative inconvenience from the winds is a small price to pay. I opened my bedroom window to a gentle, warm breeze and this magnificent view. 

I don’t feel as stongly as some about the winds because they don’t happen that often and don’t really impact my life. I suppose if I was a farmer or owner of a vineyard I might feel differently. What I have experienced are very high winds along the autoroutes when driving to Toulouse or along the Mediterranean Coast which is rare. I have never felt their madness and if nothing, the recent Scirocco has somehow been inspiring. 

I think happiness can be defined by moments of perceived perfection, when everything is just the way we want it. Today is one of those days with a shining sun, gorgeous mountains in the distance, clear blue skies, a gentle breeze, and evidence of Spring as the nearby hills turn to green. 

About a year ago I decided to reacquaint myself with Gounod’s Faust and discovered a relatively new recording of the 1859 version. I listened to it incessantly for a couple of months becoming very familiar with every nuance. Then moving on to something else, I forgot about it until about two months ago when I resurrected it and have been listening to it again pretty much nonstop, at least once or twice a day.  It’s addictive. Fortunately this recording is available on YouTube. Here is a brief clip with highlights.

For a particularly rousing waltz that just might get you up and out of your seat, there is this excerpt from the Finale in Act 1.

Finally, there is the final chorus, the Apothéose/Sauvée which is a powerful enactment of the heroine, Marguerite, entering the kingdom of Heaven.

As I was exploring the various soloists this morning, I rediscovered Gerald Finzi’s Eclogue, a simple but enticing short piece for piano and string orchestra. Finzi originally intended it to be the middle (slow) movement of a piano concerto, but inspiration never came for the other two movements so he rescored it to stand as a work on its own. Again it is on YouTube for you to enjoy if you are interested. It put me into a wonderful, pensive mood.

Yesterday marked two years of being in France as a permanent resident. I’ve been reflecting on my life here in this beautiful part of the country, in a house I am making my own with time to write, to think, to read, to study, to learn, to express my creative self cooking and baking for friends, to enjoy many genres of music, and learning (and teaching) French. I’d say I am a pretty lucky guy as it just couldn’t get any better.