Wednesday 13th January 2010, Ambre-les-Espagnolettes, Languedoc
Yesterday we did nothing at all apart from driving to Cazoules after lunch to use the supermarket and browse the garden centre. The weather was just so painfully cold we could not summon up the courage for even a short walk. The sky was a dull grey and snow threatened every moment though never materialised. We returned home shaking with the cold, turned up the heating in the kitchen and unearthed a wildlife DVD about hot tropical rainforests to warm ourselves up.
This morning we slept until nearly 10am! It seems we have an instinct to hibernate. When we eventually got downstairs, consumed a hurried breakfast and headed out to catch the library for the two brief hours when internet was available, we discovered everything had changed since last night. It was no longer icy cold, puddles were no longer frozen and bright sunshine was casting interesting morning shadows across the vineyards and the rugged grey hills beyond. Today has been really lovely, so warm in fact that we were briefly glad to take off our coats during the afternoon - though even more glad to put them on again as soon as the sun dropped towards the horizon.
Today's internet frustration was failing to realise that all the computers in the library did not give access to the same resources. The one we were using had safeguards on for children and would not let us access Blogger. Others had different problems. Only two out of eight machines actually work for our purposes and they were both in use. By the time we finally got access we had a mere twenty minutes before the library closed for the two hour lunch break.
During the afternoon we drove to Capestang, a pleasant little town standing beside the Canal du Midi. It is dominated by a huge, defensive church, more like a castle really. It looms up from the plain and can be seen long before the town is reached. The sun was shining and the light reflecting from the walls of the narrow streets made everywhere appear bright and interesting. Just a few degrees increase in temperature is enough to change everything. Cyclists were out in teams, people with dogs or children were walking the tow path beside the canal while spring cleaning was underway on several of the barges and canal boats moored along the banks. Somebody was fishing and the sunlight slanting through the plane trees dappled the water.
The town was larger than we'd realised and we spent some time exploring its streets and squares, discovering its church, fountain and the bishop's palace and admiring a very clever mural masking the end façades of a couple of buildings. So good was it in fact that at first we didn't realise we were looking at a blank wall. The give-away was that it was brighter and cleaner than the rest of the town. For more about Capestang see also 12th December 2005
The weather was sufficiently bright and clear that we decided to drive across the plain and up onto the Oppidum d'Ensérune, a steep hill with the remains of a Celtic settlement on its summit. From the top there are magnificent views over the surrounding countryside in every direction, from Beziers, across to Sète and the sea, down onto the silver Canal du Midi winding its way across southern France with the sea on the horizon, and perhaps most astonishing of all, a view down onto the vast circular Etang-de-Montady. This marshy area was drained in the thirteenth century and divided into segments with drainage and irrigation channels running between them. At ground level the strange, wedge shapes of the fields are unseen but from up on the Oppidum it looks like a large cake cut into segments.
There is a strange charm to Ensérune. Tranquilly set amidst Cyprus trees are the remains of a Celtic civilisation, with gigantic storage vessels set into the ground amongst the exposed grey rock. It feels more like Greece or Italy than France. So many different civilisations have met at this point. The Roman road, the via Domitia, passed across the top of the hill, linking Beaucaire, Nîmes, Béziers, Narbonne and Perpignan. In the 13th century a tunnel was dug through the base of the hillside to drain the marshy Etang de Montady while in the 17th century Paul Riquet constructed his famous Tunnel de Malpas through the same hill at a higher level to carry his Canal du Midi. Finally, in the 19th century a third tunnel was cut through at a level between the previous two to carry the railway. We climbed down the bank and made our way along the ledge beside the canal as it passed through the hillside, the afternoon sun sending long shafts of light straight through the mouth of the tunnel onto the surface of the clear water from where it reflected eerily up onto the uneven roof and walls. Halfway through, with daylight visible from either end, we felt the vibration as a train passed through in the tunnel below us.
This was not our first visit to the Oppidum d'Ensérune and a fuller account can be seen on 16th November 2005
Thursday 14th January 2010, Ambre-les-Espagnolettes, Languedoc
This morning we woke to the sound of gushing water spurting from the drainpipes of the houses in our narrow street. Drains in the villages are uncovered and rain falling on the roofs of the village end up flowing down the sides of the main street where it sploshes and gurgles continuously. It's rather a comforting sound when you are warm indoors. There was condensation on the windows but it was on the outside! The parts of the house we are not using, and therefore not heating, are considerably colder than outside in the street! It's been really wet all day though and we haven't even bothered to go out, spending our time exploring the wonderful collection of books around the house, many dating from the late nineteenth century and covering the history and geography of Southern France, including several of personal interest for us written by the Devon writer Sabine Baring-Gould.
Sunday 17th January 2010, Ambre-les-Espagnolettes, Languedoc
We have been away for a couple of days visiting friends Christine and Mostyn who live in the little village of Boubals beyond Bédarieux in the valley of the Orb. We all have Exeter connections which is how we first came to know them when a mutual friend, Helen, put us in contact with each other.
Friday was my birthday and we planned on having lunch near Roquebrun at the Blue Lizard, recommended to us by Lesley and Ivor. Unfortunately, despite Ian ringing the evening before to check that it was open, we arrived to discover the Christmas break had unexpectedly been extended and they'd decided not to open after all! This was a disappointment but we are becoming reconciled to French time and people's attitude to work. We eventually found somewhere very pleasant in Lamalou on our way to Boubals.
First though we went for a nostalgic wander around Roquebrun where we camped for a few nights back in May last year. This time it was far colder and generally very few people around. There was though a mobile hairdresser with a van down by the river parked next to a mobile fish and sausage seller. The concept of mobile hairdressing struck us as curious. Where does the hot water and electricity come from? It all seemed to be carried out in the back of a van.
Roquebrun is an ancient, tight-packed little village clinging to a south facing hillside overlooking the Orb. Because it receives more than its fair share of sunshine plants thrive there and already the mimosa was beginning to bloom, brightening little corners around the streets and splashing the hillside with bright spots of yellow. There were also cactuses and agaves in sheltered corners. At the top of the village, up around the tower of the ruined castle, the Mediterranean garden with its succulents and olives will soon be returning to life and once again its delicate plants and bright flowers will smother the old stone terraces.
A little stream runs between vegetable garden to drain into the Orb. Here an old shadouf has been set up to hoist water up to supply the terraces where already a few vegetables have been planted out. It's the first time we've noticed such a thing in France.
Unfortunately this pretty village is marred by exceptionally active dogs and the lack of any form of street cleaning.
For more about Roquebrun see 10th November 2005
Continuing up the valley of the Orb we stopped at Lamelou for a lunch of salmon quiche with salad followed by rabbit in a creamy mustard sauce served with pasta. Dessert was bright green pistachio macaroons filled with cream and raspberries. The hotel dining room was doing a brisk trade and some of the customers were obviously staff or patients at the thermal baths and accident rehabilitation centre, which of course is not affected by seasonal trade and therefore active even in the depths of winter.
The rest of the weekend we have spent with Christine and Mostyn. It was a pleasure to see them again and as usual we have been spoilt with good company, superb cooking and wonderful wine. We've also had the opportunity to access wifi, update our computer software, browse lots of birthday emails and catch up on urgent messages that needed answering. Christine was wonderfully tolerant about us turning up with a large bag of grubby laundry, monopolising her washing machine and festooning her lounge with damp duvet covers and hiking socks! Aren't we lucky to have so many wonderful friends to help us out as we wander around Europe in the winter?
Yesterday the weather was considerably warmer, actually touching 9 degrees, and Mostyn drove us all up into the Espinouse for a walk. The landscape in this part of the Haut Languedoc is rather different from around St. Chinian. The altitude is higher, it's generally a few degrees cooler and the flat plains of vines and olives have given way to steep hillsides clothed in dark green forests. The lower slopes are mainly small, hardy oaks and chestnuts while as we climbed higher, they were replaced by pines. We passed several ruined stone buildings in the woods which Mostyn tells us were used to store and dry the chestnuts which were once a major part of the economy of this area. They are still used to make chestnut flour. The nuts are poured through a shute from the hillside above onto a wooden floor below which a fire is lit to dry them out. They are then removed from another opening on the far side of the building at a lower level. Our walk took in a variety of scenery, sometimes deep in dank woodland, at other times crossing open hillside with wide views down onto the village of le Bousquet d'Orb, or along beside clear flowing little rivers full of rocks and waterfalls. Mostyn carried his favourite toy, a GPS system for walkers, so we can accurately say we walked 11.6 kilometres and climbed 184 metres.
A glutton for punishment, today Mostyn was off after breakfast for a hike with the local social club. Christine was not so keen and saw us off a little later as we left to discover something of the upper Orb valley. It's too far to reach from Ambre unless we set off really early and it makes for a lot of driving. Today though we were already there, so driving was minimal. Thanks to you both for your excellent hospitality. We look forward to seeing you both again the next time we are passing this way with a bag of unwashed laundry.
Just a little further up the valley we stopped at Lunas and were immediately charmed. The river flows through the centre while on a high cliff the ruins of the feudal castle overlook the mediaeval streets clustered around its base. On the water's edge stands the later Lunas castle now used as a seasonal restaurant. Up the hillside the cobbled alleyways winding between the houses are steep and twisting. They pass under low stone archways and up and down steps and stairs to access round-arched doorways or tiny entrances to hobbit-sized cottages. Some places had small vegetable plots squashed into corners or on raised terraces at the level of the chimney of the house in the alleyway below.
Eventually we found ourselves above the village where in a field that was apparently an ancient burial ground we discovered the remains of the visigothic chapel of St. George dating from the fifth and sixth centuries. The entrance looks mozarabic in style. Higher still we reached the Redondel, the remains of the feudal castle. Once it was no longer occupied much of the stone from its ruined walls was reused in constructing the mediaeval village at its feet.
Back down on the banks of the river we discovered the tiny library and tourist office were open on this winter Sunday. Astonished we investigated and got chatting with the librarian who told us the residents of Lunas were very appreciative of Sunday opening to help while away winter afternoons in this isolated area. Noticing a small pistol on her desk we asked if the work was dangerous. We were relieved to learn it was a prop for a display of crime novels she was preparing.
The first time we came to the Languedoc we were puzzled to frequently find plastic bottles of water beside doorways and gateposts, on steps or even hanging from the lower branches of trees. Some villages had them at almost every house, other villages had none. Why were they there and what was their purpose? We have asked several English people living here. None knew the reason. Christine hazarded a guess that they were all villages on the route to Compostella and were left there to be used by passing pilgrims. At first this seemed a possible answer but still seemed odd. Today we asked the lady in the library/tourist office. She laughed at this suggestion saying we were thinking with our hearts and the French were more prosaic than that. Believe this if you will – and we still find it incredible, but apparently leaving plastic bottles filled with water outside your house prevents dogs from urinating there!!!! We said "tirez l'autre, elle porte des sonnettes" or something similar, but she said she didn't understand it either but it obviously worked or people wouldn't continue to put them there. We replied that the communes continue to put plastic canisacs for dog owners out on street corners to reduce dog pooh when that obviously don't work and that we remain highly sceptical about it. This requires further investigation. One day we will knock on the door of one of these houses and ask why they leave the bottles out. How does it work? There's a research project in this somewhere! I just wonder how many thirsty pilgrims have blessed the goodwill of the inhabitants of rural France as they slake their thirst from these contaminated bottles and trudge on their way!
We drove up into the hills to investigate the historic village of Joncels with its remains of a Benedictine abbey which, in the Middle Ages was the most important in the Languedoc. The village stands on the pilgrim route with a hostel offering them shelter. We only saw one pilgrim today – very different from the hordes we met last April crossing the Pyrenees into Spain. Along the wall of the hostel we were impressed to find dozens of surreal wood carvings based on the natural forms of the logs. Each piece expressed its own individual character. They were weathered and produced to give pleasure to the artist. They were not offered for sale.
Four years ago we discovered the bizarre red volcanic landscape around the Lac de Saligou. Now back in the area, we could not resist taking the road again. As before, we found it fascinating, a vast area of seismic activity about which we know nothing.
The Lac de Saligou is a man-made reservoir created in the 1950s. Its construction required sacrificing the village of Celles and re-housing the residents elsewhere. In fact the water level is lower than originally envisaged and the village now stands deserted, doors, roofs and windows missing from the ruined houses, but still with an active mairie and wheelie bins waiting to be emptied every week! We called it then "The village of the dammed" and have no compunction about using the corny pun again now.
There is an illustrated account of the geology and prehistory of the area and the abandoned village at 10th December 2005
One last place to visit before heading for home was Villeneuvette near Clermont Herault recommended to us by Lesley and Ivor. It was built during the 17th century by Colbert as a workers' village set up to provide both factory and housing for the Royal cloth works. The woven woollen serge material was used to make uniforms for the French military. Flags and ensigns were also produced there. It is an attractive place set around a shaded central courtyard from where streets lead off to terraces of workers' cottages each with its own little garden. The factory itself is now a ruin with exposed iron girders. It finally ceased operation as recently as the 1950s. Much of the residential part of the village is still occupied and is reached through an imposing gateway above which is written "Honneur au Travail".
Dusk was falling as we set off for home through an open landscape that gave us distant views to the high snowy peaks of the French Pyrenees. Passing through one of the little villages we saw a left-hand drive Romahome parked by the roadside! We assume it had been specially manufactured for a British expat living here. Modestine felt she could not pass by without stopping to say bonjour and insisted on turning back. We left a note on the windscreen sending greeting from one Romahome owner to another, wishing them happiness in their country of adoption. They will probably think we are crazy.
Wednesday 13th January 2010, Ambre-les-Espagnolettes, Languedoc
Yesterday we did nothing at all apart from driving to Cazoules after lunch to use the supermarket and browse the garden centre. The weather was just so painfully cold we could not summon up the courage for even a short walk. The sky was a dull grey and snow threatened every moment though never materialised. We returned home shaking with the cold, turned up the heating in the kitchen and unearthed a wildlife DVD about hot tropical rainforests to warm ourselves up.
This morning we slept until nearly 10am! It seems we have an instinct to hibernate. When we eventually got downstairs, consumed a hurried breakfast and headed out to catch the library for the two brief hours when internet was available, we discovered everything had changed since last night. It was no longer icy cold, puddles were no longer frozen and bright sunshine was casting interesting morning shadows across the vineyards and the rugged grey hills beyond. Today has been really lovely, so warm in fact that we were briefly glad to take off our coats during the afternoon - though even more glad to put them on again as soon as the sun dropped towards the horizon.
Today's internet frustration was failing to realise that all the computers in the library did not give access to the same resources. The one we were using had safeguards on for children and would not let us access Blogger. Others had different problems. Only two out of eight machines actually work for our purposes and they were both in use. By the time we finally got access we had a mere twenty minutes before the library closed for the two hour lunch break.
During the afternoon we drove to Capestang, a pleasant little town standing beside the Canal du Midi. It is dominated by a huge, defensive church, more like a castle really. It looms up from the plain and can be seen long before the town is reached. The sun was shining and the light reflecting from the walls of the narrow streets made everywhere appear bright and interesting. Just a few degrees increase in temperature is enough to change everything. Cyclists were out in teams, people with dogs or children were walking the tow path beside the canal while spring cleaning was underway on several of the barges and canal boats moored along the banks. Somebody was fishing and the sunlight slanting through the plane trees dappled the water.
The town was larger than we'd realised and we spent some time exploring its streets and squares, discovering its church, fountain and the bishop's palace and admiring a very clever mural masking the end façades of a couple of buildings. So good was it in fact that at first we didn't realise we were looking at a blank wall. The give-away was that it was brighter and cleaner than the rest of the town. For more about Capestang see also 12th December 2005
The weather was sufficiently bright and clear that we decided to drive across the plain and up onto the Oppidum d'Ensérune, a steep hill with the remains of a Celtic settlement on its summit. From the top there are magnificent views over the surrounding countryside in every direction, from Beziers, across to Sète and the sea, down onto the silver Canal du Midi winding its way across southern France with the sea on the horizon, and perhaps most astonishing of all, a view down onto the vast circular Etang-de-Montady. This marshy area was drained in the thirteenth century and divided into segments with drainage and irrigation channels running between them. At ground level the strange, wedge shapes of the fields are unseen but from up on the Oppidum it looks like a large cake cut into segments.
There is a strange charm to Ensérune. Tranquilly set amidst Cyprus trees are the remains of a Celtic civilisation, with gigantic storage vessels set into the ground amongst the exposed grey rock. It feels more like Greece or Italy than France. So many different civilisations have met at this point. The Roman road, the via Domitia, passed across the top of the hill, linking Beaucaire, Nîmes, Béziers, Narbonne and Perpignan. In the 13th century a tunnel was dug through the base of the hillside to drain the marshy Etang de Montady while in the 17th century Paul Riquet constructed his famous Tunnel de Malpas through the same hill at a higher level to carry his Canal du Midi. Finally, in the 19th century a third tunnel was cut through at a level between the previous two to carry the railway. We climbed down the bank and made our way along the ledge beside the canal as it passed through the hillside, the afternoon sun sending long shafts of light straight through the mouth of the tunnel onto the surface of the clear water from where it reflected eerily up onto the uneven roof and walls. Halfway through, with daylight visible from either end, we felt the vibration as a train passed through in the tunnel below us.
This was not our first visit to the Oppidum d'Ensérune and a fuller account can be seen on 16th November 2005
Thursday 14th January 2010, Ambre-les-Espagnolettes, Languedoc
This morning we woke to the sound of gushing water spurting from the drainpipes of the houses in our narrow street. Drains in the villages are uncovered and rain falling on the roofs of the village end up flowing down the sides of the main street where it sploshes and gurgles continuously. It's rather a comforting sound when you are warm indoors. There was condensation on the windows but it was on the outside! The parts of the house we are not using, and therefore not heating, are considerably colder than outside in the street! It's been really wet all day though and we haven't even bothered to go out, spending our time exploring the wonderful collection of books around the house, many dating from the late nineteenth century and covering the history and geography of Southern France, including several of personal interest for us written by the Devon writer Sabine Baring-Gould.
Sunday 17th January 2010, Ambre-les-Espagnolettes, Languedoc
We have been away for a couple of days visiting friends Christine and Mostyn who live in the little village of Boubals beyond Bédarieux in the valley of the Orb. We all have Exeter connections which is how we first came to know them when a mutual friend, Helen, put us in contact with each other.
Friday was my birthday and we planned on having lunch near Roquebrun at the Blue Lizard, recommended to us by Lesley and Ivor. Unfortunately, despite Ian ringing the evening before to check that it was open, we arrived to discover the Christmas break had unexpectedly been extended and they'd decided not to open after all! This was a disappointment but we are becoming reconciled to French time and people's attitude to work. We eventually found somewhere very pleasant in Lamalou on our way to Boubals.
First though we went for a nostalgic wander around Roquebrun where we camped for a few nights back in May last year. This time it was far colder and generally very few people around. There was though a mobile hairdresser with a van down by the river parked next to a mobile fish and sausage seller. The concept of mobile hairdressing struck us as curious. Where does the hot water and electricity come from? It all seemed to be carried out in the back of a van.
Roquebrun is an ancient, tight-packed little village clinging to a south facing hillside overlooking the Orb. Because it receives more than its fair share of sunshine plants thrive there and already the mimosa was beginning to bloom, brightening little corners around the streets and splashing the hillside with bright spots of yellow. There were also cactuses and agaves in sheltered corners. At the top of the village, up around the tower of the ruined castle, the Mediterranean garden with its succulents and olives will soon be returning to life and once again its delicate plants and bright flowers will smother the old stone terraces.
A little stream runs between vegetable garden to drain into the Orb. Here an old shadouf has been set up to hoist water up to supply the terraces where already a few vegetables have been planted out. It's the first time we've noticed such a thing in France.
Unfortunately this pretty village is marred by exceptionally active dogs and the lack of any form of street cleaning.
For more about Roquebrun see 10th November 2005
Continuing up the valley of the Orb we stopped at Lamelou for a lunch of salmon quiche with salad followed by rabbit in a creamy mustard sauce served with pasta. Dessert was bright green pistachio macaroons filled with cream and raspberries. The hotel dining room was doing a brisk trade and some of the customers were obviously staff or patients at the thermal baths and accident rehabilitation centre, which of course is not affected by seasonal trade and therefore active even in the depths of winter.
The rest of the weekend we have spent with Christine and Mostyn. It was a pleasure to see them again and as usual we have been spoilt with good company, superb cooking and wonderful wine. We've also had the opportunity to access wifi, update our computer software, browse lots of birthday emails and catch up on urgent messages that needed answering. Christine was wonderfully tolerant about us turning up with a large bag of grubby laundry, monopolising her washing machine and festooning her lounge with damp duvet covers and hiking socks! Aren't we lucky to have so many wonderful friends to help us out as we wander around Europe in the winter?
Yesterday the weather was considerably warmer, actually touching 9 degrees, and Mostyn drove us all up into the Espinouse for a walk. The landscape in this part of the Haut Languedoc is rather different from around St. Chinian. The altitude is higher, it's generally a few degrees cooler and the flat plains of vines and olives have given way to steep hillsides clothed in dark green forests. The lower slopes are mainly small, hardy oaks and chestnuts while as we climbed higher, they were replaced by pines. We passed several ruined stone buildings in the woods which Mostyn tells us were used to store and dry the chestnuts which were once a major part of the economy of this area. They are still used to make chestnut flour. The nuts are poured through a shute from the hillside above onto a wooden floor below which a fire is lit to dry them out. They are then removed from another opening on the far side of the building at a lower level. Our walk took in a variety of scenery, sometimes deep in dank woodland, at other times crossing open hillside with wide views down onto the village of le Bousquet d'Orb, or along beside clear flowing little rivers full of rocks and waterfalls. Mostyn carried his favourite toy, a GPS system for walkers, so we can accurately say we walked 11.6 kilometres and climbed 184 metres.
A glutton for punishment, today Mostyn was off after breakfast for a hike with the local social club. Christine was not so keen and saw us off a little later as we left to discover something of the upper Orb valley. It's too far to reach from Ambre unless we set off really early and it makes for a lot of driving. Today though we were already there, so driving was minimal. Thanks to you both for your excellent hospitality. We look forward to seeing you both again the next time we are passing this way with a bag of unwashed laundry.
Just a little further up the valley we stopped at Lunas and were immediately charmed. The river flows through the centre while on a high cliff the ruins of the feudal castle overlook the mediaeval streets clustered around its base. On the water's edge stands the later Lunas castle now used as a seasonal restaurant. Up the hillside the cobbled alleyways winding between the houses are steep and twisting. They pass under low stone archways and up and down steps and stairs to access round-arched doorways or tiny entrances to hobbit-sized cottages. Some places had small vegetable plots squashed into corners or on raised terraces at the level of the chimney of the house in the alleyway below.
Eventually we found ourselves above the village where in a field that was apparently an ancient burial ground we discovered the remains of the visigothic chapel of St. George dating from the fifth and sixth centuries. The entrance looks mozarabic in style. Higher still we reached the Redondel, the remains of the feudal castle. Once it was no longer occupied much of the stone from its ruined walls was reused in constructing the mediaeval village at its feet.
Back down on the banks of the river we discovered the tiny library and tourist office were open on this winter Sunday. Astonished we investigated and got chatting with the librarian who told us the residents of Lunas were very appreciative of Sunday opening to help while away winter afternoons in this isolated area. Noticing a small pistol on her desk we asked if the work was dangerous. We were relieved to learn it was a prop for a display of crime novels she was preparing.
The first time we came to the Languedoc we were puzzled to frequently find plastic bottles of water beside doorways and gateposts, on steps or even hanging from the lower branches of trees. Some villages had them at almost every house, other villages had none. Why were they there and what was their purpose? We have asked several English people living here. None knew the reason. Christine hazarded a guess that they were all villages on the route to Compostella and were left there to be used by passing pilgrims. At first this seemed a possible answer but still seemed odd. Today we asked the lady in the library/tourist office. She laughed at this suggestion saying we were thinking with our hearts and the French were more prosaic than that. Believe this if you will – and we still find it incredible, but apparently leaving plastic bottles filled with water outside your house prevents dogs from urinating there!!!! We said "tirez l'autre, elle porte des sonnettes" or something similar, but she said she didn't understand it either but it obviously worked or people wouldn't continue to put them there. We replied that the communes continue to put plastic canisacs for dog owners out on street corners to reduce dog pooh when that obviously don't work and that we remain highly sceptical about it. This requires further investigation. One day we will knock on the door of one of these houses and ask why they leave the bottles out. How does it work? There's a research project in this somewhere! I just wonder how many thirsty pilgrims have blessed the goodwill of the inhabitants of rural France as they slake their thirst from these contaminated bottles and trudge on their way!
We drove up into the hills to investigate the historic village of Joncels with its remains of a Benedictine abbey which, in the Middle Ages was the most important in the Languedoc. The village stands on the pilgrim route with a hostel offering them shelter. We only saw one pilgrim today – very different from the hordes we met last April crossing the Pyrenees into Spain. Along the wall of the hostel we were impressed to find dozens of surreal wood carvings based on the natural forms of the logs. Each piece expressed its own individual character. They were weathered and produced to give pleasure to the artist. They were not offered for sale.
Four years ago we discovered the bizarre red volcanic landscape around the Lac de Saligou. Now back in the area, we could not resist taking the road again. As before, we found it fascinating, a vast area of seismic activity about which we know nothing.
The Lac de Saligou is a man-made reservoir created in the 1950s. Its construction required sacrificing the village of Celles and re-housing the residents elsewhere. In fact the water level is lower than originally envisaged and the village now stands deserted, doors, roofs and windows missing from the ruined houses, but still with an active mairie and wheelie bins waiting to be emptied every week! We called it then "The village of the dammed" and have no compunction about using the corny pun again now.
There is an illustrated account of the geology and prehistory of the area and the abandoned village at 10th December 2005
One last place to visit before heading for home was Villeneuvette near Clermont Herault recommended to us by Lesley and Ivor. It was built during the 17th century by Colbert as a workers' village set up to provide both factory and housing for the Royal cloth works. The woven woollen serge material was used to make uniforms for the French military. Flags and ensigns were also produced there. It is an attractive place set around a shaded central courtyard from where streets lead off to terraces of workers' cottages each with its own little garden. The factory itself is now a ruin with exposed iron girders. It finally ceased operation as recently as the 1950s. Much of the residential part of the village is still occupied and is reached through an imposing gateway above which is written "Honneur au Travail".
Dusk was falling as we set off for home through an open landscape that gave us distant views to the high snowy peaks of the French Pyrenees. Passing through one of the little villages we saw a left-hand drive Romahome parked by the roadside! We assume it had been specially manufactured for a British expat living here. Modestine felt she could not pass by without stopping to say bonjour and insisted on turning back. We left a note on the windscreen sending greeting from one Romahome owner to another, wishing them happiness in their country of adoption. They will probably think we are crazy.
