Yesterday Jil Bartley and I undertook the long drive to Valensole in the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence. Jil had been notified of the plight of two mini dachshunds who had been abandoned in rather dire circumstances and asked if I’d accompany her to rescue them. Torrential rains on Monday made motorway driving conditions too hazardous but with time being of the essence for these two tiny dogs, we decided to go Tuesday come rain or shine. To our relief, we were blessed with blue skies and warm sunshine for most of our trip.

Nigel had carefully helped to plan the journey programming the GPS and printing out the route for me as he would stay home to keep an eye on all the furries while Jil and I accomplished (hopefully) our rescue mission. After picking up Jil and Nanette (Jil’s original rescue dog) from Vence I then took the road down to Cagnes-sur-Mer and hooked up to the A8 motorway.

Our route would take us through a number of departments: the Alpes-Maritimes of course but also the Var, Bouches-du-Rhone, Vaucluse and finally, the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence. From the stunning red ochre hills of the Esterel, we passed fields of brown stubby vines their pale green leaves just starting to show.

Approaching Aix-en-Provence, the much loved and formidable St Victoire mountains of Paul Cezanne loomed into view as the scenery again changed with gnarled holm oak trees and umbrella pines soon dominating the rocky landscape.

Once into the Vaucluse we followed the muddy waters of the Durance river and then finally found ourselves, just under three hours later, in the Alpes-de Hautes-Provence and our destination, Domaine La Belle Terre (also known as Association Cent Pas).

And what an incredible location it was. The animal rescue home, located on a stretch of road between Manosque and Valensole, was situated on a plateau offering a 360 degree view of the entire surrounding landscape with snow-capped Alps acting as a backdrop to row upon row of lavender bushes that stretched as far as the eye could see. While Jil and I were of course desperate to reach the dogs, it was impossible not to stop and step out of Gus the Bus and take in this stunning panorama. From the quiet shores of the French Riviera we were blasted by gusty winds as they swept across the plain.

Leaving this astonishing scene behind us, we then drove down the bumpy stony track, riddled with puddles from Monday’s rain, to Domaine La Belle Terre. Alerted to our arrival, Mme Schonse came out to greet us and there’s no denying the courage and dedication of this Lady. After initial introductions it was time to meet the dachshunds and a sorrier sight could not have met us. Jil has promised to write their story so I shall not disclose too much about them now but suffice to say that, not withstanding their plight and terrible ordeal (they had been dumped on the Friday), it was evident these two little fellows had never been well cared for or nourished properly in their lives. Our hearts went out to them and without a moment’s hesitation, Jil swept them up in her arms and their destiny changed forever.

It seems wrong to applaud an animal rescue centre as many are absolutely awful places yet I can’t help but do so in the case of Mme Schonse. Her sincere concern and love of dogs and cats was all too evident and, as we drove away with Jil’s very special family, her tears flowed unreservedly.

Our journey home was peaceful as Nanette, Mimi and Bertie (as Jil has named them) slept in the back of the car - oblivious to the amazing landscape we were travelling through. Soon we were back in the Provence-Alpes-Cote d’Azur department and the familiar names of St Tropez, Cannes and Nice appeared on the road signs. After helping Jil carry her tiny bundles into her home, I then made the half hour drive to Chateauneuf and home.

It had been a long and quite emotional day. As Archie, Freddy and Maggie May came bounding out to greet me, sniffing around both Gus the Bus and my shoes to discover where I’d been, my thoughts lingered on all the many dogs (and cats) who were still hoping to find their forever home.

A gentle nudge brought me out of my sad reverie: down at my feet was my own little Bertie, his short legs making him a tad slower than the others to welcome me back home. His dark brown eyes found mine and with a big smile on his face and tail wagging nineteen to the dozen he told me he’d found his.