Reaching new heights in the south of France
Hiking adventures through hilltop towns take on an almost spiritual dimension
My tour guide is whipping along a narrow mountain road that overlooks a steep canyon at what seems like Formula One speeds. There’s only the bare minimum of a guard rail on my right, and we’re close enough to the car in front of us that I’m pretty sure I can see what radio station the driver is listening to.
Suddenly we swoop around a corner and it’s right there; a massive, grey, craggy circle of stone and ancient rock rising up at the end of a deep green valley. There are jagged edges and smoothly worn bowls and patches of snow in shady pockets in midsummer. Just for good measure, there’s also a wide ribbon of water spilling down the left side of the rock and falling hundreds of metres toward the valley floor; one of the prettiest waterfalls I’ve seen and also the highest in mainland France at an impressive 422 metres.
I’d seen pictures of this area of the Pyrenees in southwest France, but the size and majesty had escaped me, as can often happen when one peers at miniature photos on a computer screen to try to get a sense of such a wide and thoroughly impressive world. I forget all about the cars on the road and my speedy ride and fix my slack-jawed gaze at the mountains rising in front of me.
Moments later, we park our car in a small lot set among an alpine village filled with old stone buildings and a sizable number of visitors, and set out on a two-hour walk, which is sadly all the time I have to check out the area. We walk an easy trail alongside a grey river of cool mountain water, with kids splashing about and folks sunning themselves on rocks. We admire farms dotted with pasture land and bales of hay and clamber up a wooded trail before reaching a wide meadow filled with deep green grass and pale lavender wildflowers.
I’m very much a sun-and-beach person, but something about being around mountains like this is more enthralling, more deeply emotional. Walking along the sand at sunset is romantic, but hiking among ancient, folded, spindled and towering mountains that pierce the sky is more akin to a religious experience.
My hiking guide, Corinne Rixens, tells me the wildflowers are called colchique, and she sings me a pretty tune about how the crocuses blooming in the mountains signify the end of summer.
We hop back in the car and head down the hill to the small, pretty town of Luz Saint-Sauveur, where we watch bungee jumpers dive off a bridge over a deep mountain valley. We also take a dip in the warm waters of a thermal bath made popular by Napoleon III. (thermesdeluz.fr)
Even better is a brief visit the next morning to the tiny, hillside village of Saint-Savin. It’s not on the main road into the Gavarnie region, so it’s a place most tourists never see. I’m only there for a few minutes but I find the old church enchanting, with an organ that reportedly dates to the mid-1500s. Even better is the old timber home across the street and the wooden arcades along the main street, where I spot perhaps four people on a still, quiet Thursday in August.
The Aquitaine region of France is sprinkled with dozens of other hilltop towns, many of them packed with tourists in summer. SaintCirq-Lapopie is a beautiful village that spills and tumbles down a hillside overlooking the Lot River, offering tremendous views and narrow streets packed with restaurants and shops. Much larger but still charming is Cordes-sur-Ciel, northeast of Toulouse.
One of the major attractions in the area is the city of Lourdes, where I watch thousands of religious pilgrims wait in line to see the site where the Virgin Mary is said to have appeared before a young French girl.
More than six million visitors a year from more than 140 countries visit the city, which they say has more hotel rooms than any city in France outside Paris. I spot folks from around the world praying at the various shrines or shopping for Virgin Mary figurines and holy water from the town.
It’s extremely touristy, but the faith of the visitors is undeniable. I spotted an inscription from a fellow from Hamilton, Ont., who said he came to Lourdes and was cured of cancer.
On my way to the city of Cahors, I stop for a chat and a few sips of wine at Château du Cèdre. Co-owner Pascal Verhaeghe explains how it’s an organic winery that grows mostly Malbec grapes, used to make the famous black wines of Cahors with their deep, dark colours and full-bodied, spicy flavours. (chateauducedre.com)
Verhaeghe tells me they lost 90 per cent of their grapes in April due to a surprising, hard frost. He shrugs it off the way a farmer in the Canadian prairies shrugs off a rainy summer or a damaging hailstorm, but I feel badly for him.
Verhaeghe pours me several varieties of their wine, some of which is sold at the LCBO in Ontario and also in liquor stores in Quebec. He likes to age his wines in large oak barrels to minimize contact with the wood and impart a gentle oak flavour that I find quite appealing. He also lets me compare a wine they make that has sulphites and one without. The one with sulphites is full and lush in my mouth, while the non-sulphite wine reminds me of wild cherries; much more fruity and round.
From there it’s on to the city of Cahors, a lovely spot on the Lot River with a Romanesque/gothic Cathedral with a classic, lovely cloister and a very Instagramworthy, medieval bridge called the Valentré.
“The bridge was built as a means of defence but it was never used to defend the town,” my tour guide, Virginie Seguin, tells me with a laugh. “We’re very good at things like that.” (tourisme-cahors.fr)
I love her sense of humour and admire the town and the river, which is popular with canoeists and kayakers. The area also attracts cyclists, wine enthusiasts and foodies who admire the fresh meats and wide variety of local cheeses.
As I wander through the town I spot a girl of perhaps five or six years of age wearing a T-shirt that sums up how I felt about the surprises I found on my driving tour.
“Hope,” it said. “But never expect.”
Just the facts
For more information: tourismeoccitanie.com, tourisme-lot.com, tourisme-hautes-pyrenees.com, tourisme-tarn.com
Sleeping
Hostellerie Le Vert a Mauroux is a stunning property near Cahors with that quintessentially old, stone style of building that North Americans adore. My room was a cavernous one with barrel ceilings and a pretty garden and swimming pool. They serve meals in a romantic dining room but also out on a beautiful patio under the umbrella of a towering, graceful tree with views of fruit orchards and distant, hillside vineyards. (hotellevert.com)
Hotels les Templiers is a small, casual inn across from the fortified St. Andre Church in Luz Saint-Sauveur. It’s got a cosy lobby with great old photos and friendly staff.
Chateau de Salettes is a marvellous hotel, restaurant, spa and vineyard complex near the town of Gaillac. I had a huge, modern room in an old building with commanding views of the countryside. There’s a nice swimming pool and a first-class restaurant that offers wine pairings with everything from guinea fowl to an amazing dish with crab with ginger. They also make elegant, intricate desserts. (chateaudesalettes.com/en)
Dining
La Tasca is a fun Spanish tapas restaurant in Luz Saint-Sauveur run by a pair of friendly British expats who make their own beer. (latasca.fr) jim@jimbyerstravel.com