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I admit to taking a selfie now and then, usually when we go somewhere wonderful… but mainly because I have a husband who never takes pictures. Ever. It’s a harmless if slightly narcissistic endeavor, and my mother is dead… so if not me, who?

Then there’s the Instagram crowd. The influencers. The vapid youth of today who get paid ridiculous sums for photos that go viral. They’ll go to any lengths to get a breathtaking selfie and call me cold hearted, but I rarely feel bad when I read they fall into the Grand Canyon or off a speeding train.

Which is probably why I cringed when I read this article.

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I have been to Le Gorges du Verdon and it was fabulous. Mainly because there was no one else there.

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The husband, a friend and I drove through the French Alps for a solid 10 hours and saw only one other person. A sheep herder with his flock. It was beyond marvelous.

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That’s me sitting on the wall filing my nails waiting for the husband to climb back up from below.

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The gorge was wild and wonderful. Unspoiled nature ruled.

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As did the goats.

We visited in the early 90’s. The fact that’s it now jam packed with insipid, shallow Instagram tourists breaks my heart. And I bet the goats don’t like it either.

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