Road Trip, Day 4

Earlier this summer, I posted a photograph of sparkling water bubbles on a lemon wedge. Here’s its cousin, a photograph of a teaspoon paved with diamonds, er, sparkling water bubbles.

We could tell that night was becoming day because the grey was a slightly lighter tone. There was little drama: the rain that fell was soft, barely making a sound; the dampness seemed to wash out colors before our eyes; all was quiet.

We got our raincoats and umbrellas, and drove into Égletons to see if the visitors center had any suggestions for rainy-day things to do in the area. Not much, it turns out, so three somewhat soggier souls piled back into the car for the one-hour drive toward Collonges-la-Rouge. We drove through low, thick fog and occasional rain, but by the time we arrived, the grey was lighter and the rain had stopped.

Collonges is well-known to visitors, a town with few inhabitants but an abundance of shops. There is a slight Disney-esque air about the place. But the thing is, this town, while it may now be its own theme park, does have some history behind it.

Collonges was founded in the 8th century by some enterprising monks and a group of artisans. Since this beginning, the town has been built entirely of the deep-red sandstone of the region. That’s where the theme park comes in. Everything is red; we even passed a house with a red car parked in front. But it’s fascinating to walk through the tiny, meandering streets, and to see the variety of architectural styles that are represented here. Most of the buildings in the town’s center are several hundred years old, but new structures are all red, too.

Collonges-la-Rouge is an ancient town that is built entirely of deep-red sandstone.

After exploring the town a bit, we found a place for lunch, eating outside on a covered terrace. The café also sells local organic walnuts and walnut oil, so we all walked away with full bellies and bags of walnuts. We stepped into a few shops, including one that sells one of my favorite treats, pain d’épices (spice bread), a regional specialty. By this time, the clouds had evaporated away to reveal a deep blue sky and warm sunshine; it had become a beautiful day.


Next we drove to Turenne, an impressive and heavily-fortified hill town. We burned off some of our lunch with a steep hike to the top of the town, to visit what’s left of the castle. The views are wonderful, and on a clear day, it’s possible to see four départements. There’s a pretty garden on the grounds, and then at the other end from the castle, there is an 11th-century tower called the Tour de César, which has 64 steps to be climbed to reach the top. 64 steps doesn’t sound like a lot, but it had already been a steep climb to get here, so we were all feeling it.

Looking down the thousand-year-old spiral stairs in the Tour de César in Turenne.

From Turenne, we took a meandering set of tiny local roads to find our way to Curemonte, a picturesque hilltop town that is quite long. Most of what can be seen in this pretty stone town is relatively new, dating to roughly the 15th century, although there were definitely people living in this region long before that.

One of the evocative streets of picturesque Curemonte.

We read of a church just outside of town, built in the 11th century, using paving stones from an earlier building that was perhaps Merovingian and dating from the 8th century. The church is Église de la Combe, and we thought we’d like to see it, if only we could figure out where it was. At last we found it on a map, and Claude turned the car in that direction.

The day was melting into evening, the soft and quiet evening that often comes in autumn. The day remained warm and clear, but with the tiniest bite of cold and that sniff of sweetness in the air that speaks of harvest and falling leaves. We suddenly spotted the church and walked toward the building just as someone was locking up for the day. She was happy to let us in to see her treasure.

A building that is a thousand years old is likely to need some repairs now and then, and our hostess pointed out that it was lucky there had been a repair drive in 2018, because it may have saved the church from being torn down. She also pointed out the new roof, saying that without a roof, a building can’t hope to survive long. I’m not sure, but I think she said that the wall paintings that we could see today were only recently discovered during this latest repair work.

I was feeling grateful for the people who saw fit to make these repairs and save this little gem of a church. Along with the wall paintings, there are a few fine column capitals, and some further painting that is somewhat newer (perhaps from a 15th-century reconstruction). I know I’ve said rather a lot about one little country church, but it was a delightful surprise that we found at the end of a pretty day, through the help of a gracious and generous local who clearly loves her church.

One of the many paintings on the walls of l’Église de la Combe.

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