Road trip!

I was supposed to join a group of friends in Ireland, but that tour has been postponed. In the meantime, I decided to take a road trip to a region I’ve long wanted to visit, the Aveyron.

The first part of the trip will be with friends Maryse and Claude, and we will set out early on Tuesday morning. After a few days together, we’ll split up and go our separate ways. With the blog, I thought I’d try something a little different for this trip, and do a short post every day. Be sure to keep checking in and follow along!

To help you get a sense of where I live and where I’ll be traveling, I’ve made this map of France.

France, or as the French call it, l’Hexagone, with Paris in the north and my département, Aude, in the south. I’ll be traveling in the blue area.
The five départements that I’ll be visiting on this trip.

See you tomorrow, from Saint-Gêniez-d’Olt in Aveyron.



Two fine days

Refreshment on a hot summer day

Two different sets of people, two different days, in the same region two hours northeast of Bize. It added up to a lot of time in the car, but it was well worth it.

On the first day, I traveled with Isabelle and Anthony to see the Viaduc de Millau, and later to have a tour of the cheese caves of Roquefort, with a refreshing picnic between the two.

Viaduc de Millau. I’m tickled by that one tiny cloud that looks like a flying saucer.

The town of Millau is nestled comfortably along the Tarn River, at the base of rolling limestone hills. The town is on the main north-south road connecting Béziers in the south with Clermont-Ferrand in the north, the A75. It’s a popular route during the summer holidays, which used to lead to terrible traffic congestion, due to both the hilly terrain and to the issues of a busy highway passing through a town.

Everyone wanted a solution, and it arrived in the form of the beautiful Viaduc de Millau, completed in 2004. The Viaduc is widely considered to be one of the greatest engineering achievements of modern times. A few interesting tidbits:
– It can withstand winds of up to 200km an hour (124 mph).
– It only took three years to build.
– It is the tallest bridge in the world (336.4 meters, 1,104 feet)

Anthony, Isabelle and me at the Viaduc de Millau. Photo by a friendly stranger, made on Anthony’s phone, edited by me.

This evocative poster for Roquefort cheese was produced in 1930; the artist was Raymond Ducatez.

After viewing the bridge and learning about what it took to build it, we piled back into the car and turned south, then west, curving our way into the rocky terrain where Roquefort-sur-Soulzon is nestled. I found no fewer than ten towns in France that include the word “Roquefort” and there could be more, but this is the only one that’s all about a certain cheese.

However, before our afternoon tour and cheese tasting, we had brought a picnic to eat, and we needed to find a good spot to enjoy our meal. I do believe that we found the best picnic spot ever: towering trees, limestone boulders, a sublime view of the valley below, and a scattering of tables dotted under the trees. It was so perfect that at least one of us caught a few winks on a neighboring bench after lunch.

Giant red cedar trees shading our picnic site

This region has been used for millennia by farmers and herders, because it’s an ideal place to run sheep. Ewe’s milk—called brebis in French—makes some especially wonderful cheeses, and it’s at the heart of Roquefort’s secret.

The legend is is that a young sheepherder was out in the hills one day, and while eating his lunch, he caught sight of a lovely girl in the distance. He tucked his partially-eaten lunch of bread and cheese into the freshness of a nearby cave, and went off to chase the girl. Some days later he returned, dejected at not finding the girl, and he discovered that the cheese and bread had molded over. Besides being sad about missing out on love, he was also hungry, so he bit into the cheese and had the eureka moment that led to today’s Roquefort cheese.

Deep in the caves operated by Societé, the largest of the Roquefort cheese producers. This room is called The Cathedral.

The piece of the story that is not a legend is how these caves were formed. The village of Roquefort is perched on the north slope of a steep, rocky formation. This limestone plateau is curved, making a sort of steep bowl. A very long time ago, earthquakes in the region led to a lot of movement; in what is now Roquefort, part of Mount Combalou collapsed, forming a talus slope of giant boulders. Over the millennia, earth gradually covered the rocks, and then trees and plants began to grow there, becoming the dense forest we see today. But beneath the surface, there were still great open areas that were never filled in by earth, and those are the extensive caves of Roquefort.

Acres of Roquefort cheeses aging in deep in the caves. Actually, those are plastic cheeses made to look like the small wheels of Roquefort. The natural cycle for ewes to produce milk ends in June, and cheese won’t be made again until the next winter’s lambs are born. For the purposes of the popular tours, these replica cheeses were made to help visitors imagine the aging process.

Today, the caves are operated by only seven producers. Roquefort cheese carries the AOC label, a French government certification that includes wine, cheese, butter, and many other agricultural products. In fact, the modern AOC designation traces its roots to the first such protection granted by the French king, a decree dating to 1411 that protected … wait for it … Roquefort cheese. The AOC is based on the idea of terroir and history, and serves dual purposes of supporting the generations of farmers and producers who have made their products to exacting standards, as well as guaranteeing that the customer is buying an authentic product.

A walkway in Roquefort, population 700.


On the grounds of the Prieuré Saint Michel de Grandmont, near Lodève

On the second day, I joined Maryse and Claude for a grand adventure in and around the ancient settlement of Lodève, a town that was founded by a Gallo-Celtic tribe long before the Romans arrived.

Our winding road took us up into the hills above Lodève, to the Prieuré Saint Michel de Grandmont, built on a site that is packed with a human history that spans about 5,000 years, ranging from neolithic sites, to Roman, to Visigothic, to medieval, to Renaissance, through the Revolution and up to today.

The wonderful Dolmen de Coste-Rouge.

During the Bronze Age, the hilltop just south of the priory must have been an important location for the people who lived in the region. There are several very large stones that have been carved and positioned for what were clearly ritual purposes, including sacrifice, and one large, flat stone with a notch carved to align with the rising sun on the winter solstice.

There is also the unusual and gorgeous Dolmen de Coste-Rouge, shown above. It’s different in that it has the arched opening that has been compared to the opening of a bread oven, and it has a shape that is reminiscent of a mushroom. Human bones dating to 1500 BC were found inside.

After exploring this ancient area, we returned to the priory, passing through its park grounds. There are a lot of animals living here, including deer that are perhaps a little too tame!

A friendly doe who came to say hello…
… while her shy mate waited just below our path.
A lovely fountain just outside the medieval church at Grandmont.

Next we visited the church and priory buildings. Around 1076, Étienne de Thiers founded a reform monastic community; after his death, several of his followers came to Grandmont and founded an abbey that became the mother abbey of the order, which was named for the plateau and became the Order of Grandmont.

Before it was an abbey, though, this land was used by the Visigoths, and there are Visigothic graves in the cemetery just beyond the apse of the church.

The original church buildings, dating to the 12th and 13th centuries, are completely preserved and are the only intact original buildings remaining from the Order of Grandmont. The order was quite strict: hermetic in nature, there was no conversation, no heat, and the monks were always barefoot.

Left, the lovely cloister. Right, a stained glass window (not medieval) in the church.
Swallows sang and swooped through the arches of the medieval cloister.

Maryse had found a likely lunch spot: La Ginguette des Salces. Salces is a hamlet of the nearby village of Saint Privat. We enjoyed a delightful meal on a shady terrace that we shared with a jolly group of hunters, all wearing their brand-new orange sanglier (wild boar) T-shirts. Afterward, we strolled through the narrow streets of the hamlet, arriving at the 11th-century Église Notre-Dame-des-Salces. It’s a beauty.

L’église Notre-Dame-des-Salces. The colors in the photo at right come from stained glass windows.
A lovely 14th-century piéta in the church.

The original reason for traveling to the Lodève area was to visit the art museum for their exhibit “Tisser la Nature” (Weaving Nature), showing tapestries representing nature and spanning six centuries. Our interest had already been piqued when we visited the Musée Dom Robert in Sorèze; his work was represented in this exhibit, too.

Left, a small section of a colorful contemporary tapestry by Leo Chiachio and Leo Giannone. Right, a fragment from a 12-part series titled “Tenture des Chasses de Maximilien,” after Bernard van Orley (1488-1541).
“Les Trois Arbres” (The Three Trees), a huge and gorgeous tapestry by Mario Prassinos, and done in myriad shades of brown. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
A detail of one of the trees.
A scene in the Musée Lodève.

Monument aux Morts
As the sun began to sink and the light became more golden, we made our final stop of the day at the Monument aux Morts, the most unusual war memorial I’ve seen in France. The monument was installed in 1930, and the sculptor was Paul Dardé.

Monument aux Morts, Lodève, 1930. Sculptor: Paul Dardé.
The back view of the monument shows remarkable detail in the women’s clothing.

The monument was created to commemorate the lost lives of World War I, the war to end all wars. It shows a standing group of four women, plus one kneeling woman and two children, all surrounding the body of a dead soldier. The kneeling woman is likely the wife or mother of the soldier. The four standing women are dressed to show different social classes as well as the four seasons. The children, holding laurel leaves, represent innocence.

The sculptor, Dardé, was a stretcher-bearer during that war, and his brother was killed in the same war. He remained traumatized and anti-military for the rest of his life.


“Open studios. Free entry, exit also.”

Parting shot
We were walking through Lodève toward the Monument aux Morts, when we happened upon this sign for open art studios. One gregarious artist was outside, and he encouraged us to step inside, where we browsed through several studios and found no treasures to take home. But the sign is funny.


June in Paris

Paris rooftops at dusk.

In April, after months of lockdowns and curfews, France was a-buzz with chatter about reopening. The government began to announce the slow and deliberate steps that would begin to ease us back to some semblance of a “normal” life, always with the caveat that increasing covid numbers could lead to a retraction. There was a rising sense of hopefulness, perfectly timed to coincide with spring. Thus it was that a few of us hatched a scheme to visit Paris in June.

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One fine spring day

The village of Vieussan clings to its perch in the foreground. Behind it is the mass of Mont Caroux (the Sleeping Lady) in the Parc Naturel Régional du Haut-Languedoc.

A lovely day in this corner of paradise
Saturday, 3 April was our last day of freedom in France— our third covid lockdown was looming. The weather was fine, and a small group of us decided to have a day trip, driving nearly two hours to begin our adventure in the hamlet of Douch, situated north of us in the sprawling Parc Naturel Régional du Haut-Languedoc.

Before putting our boots on the trail, we were enticed by the hamlet, built entirely of local stone. We spent a happy half-hour strolling past ancient structures, some in perfect condition, others showing the effects of time and gravity with warps and dips and missing stones. Douch is a place right out of a fairy tale.

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Song of summer

Garden Toad
A toad the size of my hand surprised me one morning when I was watering my garden.

 

Heard from my terrace
You know that old story about how city people can’t fall asleep in the countryside because it’s too quiet? Well, that doesn’t hold water here in the South of France. It is not quiet; all manner of things are making noise. I’m here today to talk about two of the noisemakers: cicadas and frogs.

The cicadas awaken when the sun pops over the hills and begins to warm the earth. All day long, every day through the summer, the cicadas sing their amazing song. That music can get quite loud, up to 120 decibels, enough to damage human ears at close range. The cicada—cigale in French—is among the longest-lived insects, and it is recognized as a symbol of longevity and metamorphosis.

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New discoveries: wine

Barrel Stain
Wine barrels in the cave of the Pierre Fil winery in the South of France.

 

Checking out the bottling truck
A friend and I recently visited a local vineyard that we quite like, and while there, we learned that the bottling truck would arrive a few days later. I’ve been intrigued by these trucks since I first landed in the South of France, and had been hoping for an opportunity to photograph one in action.

Annabelle, our host, was very welcoming of the idea, giving me a big smile and opening her arms to say that I would be welcome to watch, learn and take a few photographs.

Gasp! You mean the wines aren’t tenderly bottled by hand at each winery?
Some wineries still do their own bottling, but it’s an expensive, time-consuming and error-prone process. Here’s a list of the necessary steps: clean and dry the bottles, fill with wine, cork and cap, add labels, place bottles in cartons. Each step requires its own machine and/or operator. The equipment is precise, it needs to be maintained, and it can break down during bottling. There is also the complication that different wine varietals require different bottles, along with their own unique labels. If someone inexperienced is operating the machine for corking the wine or for placing the labels, things can go wrong, which means that while the wine inside might be perfectly fine, the bottle doesn’t look good enough to sell, so it’s set aside, and if that happens too often, there’s a problem with profits. Of course, the entire process must be done under strict hygiene restrictions. It all adds up to a nightmare of organization that many vintners are happy to hand off to the experts.

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