After, not exactly an
uncomfortable nights sleep, more of an awkward nights sleep, we arose
about nine. When we booked the gite we noticed it boasted of its
historic credentials, and it is indeed an old building, and also of
its historic furnishings. The thing though about the historic people
who peopled these historic places, and used these historic
furnishings, is that they were historically on the short side. Why
this is I do not know, it’s just a fact, enter any old dwelling and
you have to stoop to do so, they just did not build things to
accommodate those over 5ft 2. I assume this is where the airlines get
the inspiration for their seating from.
This propensity for
diminutive dimensions stretches, so to speak, to beds, which is why I
spent the night sleeping diagonally across mine as it was not
physically possible to lie out vertically, what with the bed being
boarded on both ends. Even when I laid my head on the furthest
reaches of the pillow my feet still hung off the opposite corner.
Luckily I was very tired so it was not too much of a handicap to
sleep.
Wolfed down a few hunks
of yesterdays dry bread and a coffee for breakfast then led the beast
out to Montolieu which has made a name
for itself as an officially designated Historic Book Village, much
like Hay-on-Wye in Wales. This 12th century village has
around a dozen bookshops and a museum dedicated to all things bound.
It sits at the foot of the Black Mountains on a narrow plateau
between two streams, one of which we had to cross over via a high
bridge on entering the village, with the views to the town being
quite impressive.
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| A view of the village from the bridge |
We took our cameras out for a bit of a roam around the narrow streets before getting an early lunch of quiche and salad, at a very nice café/bookshop, which was very welcome indeed, especially after such a humble breakfast. I washed this down with two excellent coffees, so by the time we were finished I ready to rock.
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| A door with a bit of personality in Montolieu |
I gunned our growling
voiture through the lanes on towards the Abbey de Villelongue A Cistercian Abbey
whose construction began around 1170, it has recently, well in the
last 50 years, but comparatively recently, been renovated and opened
to the public thanks to its private owners. It features some very
interesting architecture and well maintained gardens. Unfortunately
when we got there it was closed, as it was a bank holiday, but we
poked our noses through the gates and had a look at what we could.
Seemed very nice, so we got back in the car and roared off.
We didn’t mind too
much that it was closed, as on the way we drove past a lovely poppy
field, so stopped to get a few photos and trample a few of the crops.
We were hoping to see a lot of flowers out this time of year, but
apart from the odd collection of poppies, most along the sides of the
road, and a couple of other exceptions, there wasn’t a great deal
to see, it was mainly green, I guess we were a bit too late.
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| Some poppies we stumbled upon
After that we headed into the western corner of Parc Naturel Regional du Haut Languedoc and in particular to the village of Soreze. Another medieval village filled with timbered buildings, an abbey and lots of narrow winding streets, very atmospheric.
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| Soreze street |
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| A shutter that is not often used |
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| A medieval half timbered house |
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| Beneath that undergrowth is in fact fully functioning building |
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| Someone seemed to be taking an interest |
Then we drove into
Revel, which has a very nice
market square, for a coffee, and at 5 Euros for two disappointing
coffees, it reminded me a lot of home. We bought some more bread,
this was the first open Boulangerie we had seen, where I tried out my
French, asking for a large bottle of water, which I thought was
pretty straight forward, but the woman behind the counter just looked
at me like I was a gibbering simpleton, so Sarah stepped in, and to
my ears at least, said the same thing I did and was handed a bottle
of water no problem at all. I was mystified.
After that we stopped
in at the gite where I filled up on more dry bread, before making
towards Fraisse Cabardes, another old village with plenty of
character. Then it was onto Chateaux de Lastours, four so called Cather
castles built along a rocky outcrop above the tiny village of
Lastours. We parked up in the village and searched for the entrance,
I think you usually have to do group tours that start from the
village, but as this was 7pm and the place was closed, but luckily
the gate to the path had been left open, we just hoped it wasn’t
going to be shut whilst we were up there, as it was pretty tall and
mounted with injurious spikes.
The climb up to the
castles, which are 300 meters above sea level, and isolated by the
deep valleys of the Orbeil and Grésilhou rivers was fairly
demanding, especially with all the camera equipment, but the views
when we got there were more than worth it. Especially as the light at
this time of day was starting to become golden, it was really making
the castles look their best. So we spent the next couple of hours
wandering between the castles taking many, many pictures.
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| A view from left to right of Chateaux Cabaret, Tour Regine & Surdespine |
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| Another view of Cabaret & Tour Regine with footpath |
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| Chateau Quertinheux, the first one of the four and where the above pictures were taken from |
Although these are
referred to as Cathar castles, and the Lastours Chateaux were indeed
a centre of Cathar religious activity during the 13th
century, the structures you can see today were constructed after this
time. Each castle is different, partly representing the range of
alterations made to them over the years, and partly because each ones
build was adapted to the rocks that surround it. As is typical of
these types of castles, they almost look as if they are growing up
from the rocks they sit on.
So as the light was
starting to fade we headed back down the footpath, the crunching of
stones beneath our feet the only sound we could hear, we stopped to
look at the tremendous views of forest stretching off into the
distance under the late evening light, it was incredibly peaceful. To
our relief, well mine anyway, the gate was still open, turns out
Sarah hadn’t even noticed the 7ft spiked gate on the way in. We got
back in the car and headed to Carcassonne again, as at this time of
night it would be the only place we could be sure to find a place to
eat.
Found another
restaurant, had another 3 course meal, which included quite possibly
the hottest dish I have ever seen, we both ordered onion soup and it
came to the table literally bubbling, but it was fabulous, then I had
steak, nice and rare, and a truffle chocolate with crème anglaise.
It was indeed, très bon!
Sat nav took us back an
interesting way, which favoured tiny roads and seemed to take an age,
despite asking for the quickest route. Got back, had a shower and
collapsed into bed, diagonally of course. Fell asleep knowing the
shop would be open tomorrow so we wouldn’t be on the dry bread for
breakfast again.
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