Stevenson’s Ghost?

Le Pont de Montvert  —  Mijavols.

This morning was almost a rerun of yesterday’s – steep uphill on old paved tracks into the forest. Wild boar hunting was going on and there were lots of people out with their baskets mushrooming. We had decided to split the long section to Florac into two more reasonable days by a slight diversion to a gite d’etape. We therefore had plenty of time to enjoy the surroundings and scenery. The views back down to Pont Montvert as we gained height were sensational. By the time we had reached the top of the first climb at Col de la Planette it was lunch time. We had caught up with the donkey team, two German women and Paprika. They had unsaddled Paprika who was grazing trees and grasses happily whilst they lunched. We had a hands on demonstration of donkey loading and they wandered off up the trail. It all looked idyllic but the girls talked of problems with the, at times, stubborn beast who knew the trail well and had her own ideas of pace and stopping places. We followed leisurely behind up the ridge to the summit of Signal du Bouges, 1421m. It was a glorious day and we lingered to enjoy the views back to yesterday’s route over Mt. Lozere and the views to the south into the Cevennes.

Mt. Lozere range

The Cevennes.

The ridge led onwards through purple heather. To reach our overnight lodgings we left the ridge halfway and descended steeply to a remote hamlet – Mijavols. On the way down we met the German women clutching onto the reins of the donkey who had been spooked by a dog and set off at a canter – it is difficult to hold onto a donkey!!  The gite was a basic barn amongst agricultural buildings. A room downstairs served as a dining area with attached kitchen, the next floor had a dorm and washrooms and above was another six bunked room – all very cosy. The donkey arrived and was put into its own field for the night, the guardians providing grain for it. The two French couples we had met for the last few days turned up and a larger jolly group who were being followed and supplied from ‘la voiture rouge’. We had time to watch the rural life in this remote spot where not much has changed in 50 years or more. Our dinner was served down in the hamlet at the farmer’s humble house. The wife had a rather stern presence but served up a wonderful meal of her own products – Ham,  Blette and sausage, omelette, goats cheese and cake. And no one snored in the crowded dormitory!                                                                                    Another glorious day.

La Cheylard — La Bastide PuyLaurent.                                                                                                   It has rained all night and is still doing so when we surface at 7am. After the jollity of  last night everyone was concerned with today’s forecast. We watched as people left, clad in French ponchos, disappeared into the mist and rain only for some to return and capitulate to a taxi. We had met our first walker with a donkey at the gite last night and waved them off with a ‘bon chance’  It was with disappointment that as we left the village even they were sadly returning. Us Brits  are made of sterner stuff and we were soon  making good progress through the wet forest tracks. The other English couple caught us up and conversation kept us going until Luc  castle ruins. With parts dating from the 12 th century the hill top site was a highlight and a joy to explore . The climb up the tower allowed us to walk round the base of the Madonna statue erected in the same year RLS made his journey, 1878. It was on this stage he wrote  —   “I travel not to anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The  great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more nearly; to come down off the featherbed of civilisation, and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints”   Walking cannot really be said to be the same in this century no matter how hard you try. Within minutes we were out of the rain drinking coffee in an old hotel, they even allowed us to eat our sandwiches in comfort.  Boring road walking took us past a 50s  building, possibly an old holiday camp. I would not have fancied staying there. Much better was our hotel for the night…

Pradelles  –  Cheylard L’Eveque.
A rather late breakfast was followed by a leisurely  exploration of the old parts of Pradelles. There was mist in the valley below and autumn has arrived. A drove road took us down towards the said Allier valley. Excellent views back up to Pradelles.

Shopping and cafeing In Langogne took up a lot of time. A great section of walking old stone enclosed tracks bought  us up to a wooded  plateau.

A lunch stop in the village of  St Flour had the local school children making us coffee for school funds. Late afternoon sunshine welcomed us to the gite in Cheylard, and a wonderful place it turned out to be. Artisan local blonde beer, a kir aperitif and an excellent communal dinner with 14 Stevenson Way walkers. 

Le Bouchet St Nicolas  —  Pradelles.                                                                                                   The French are keen on an early start from the gites. Self service breakfast was well under way when we emerged from our dorm at 7am. Some extra fruit found its way into the rucksack for later. We felt we were the last away from the village as we trudged across the fertile plateau on gravel tracks. There was a chance meeting with a hunter and his mornings bag. A coffee stop in Landos  was taken and surprisingly most of the other walkers marched straight through, so we were now officially last. This grande  randonnee walking can become very competitive. Old lanes ran near a magnificent disused railway viaduct. Cresting a ridge views south opened up over lac Naussac and tbe Lozere hills. The rest of the day was a bit of a  route march to be honest, enlivened by kites flying overhead and the sight of a small snake crossing our path.

We were safely in our room when the late afternoon thunderstorm hit. Pradelles was a fascinating old town.

“We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend.”  RLS

Le Monastier — Le Bouchet. St Nicolas.

I set off with my honest friend H, aka The Pieman.

We left Monastier early, for us,  faced with a 24k walk. This is where Stevenson departed from with his newly acquired  mule, Modestine. The old tracks we followed can’t  have been much different to those in his time. We walked from  hamlet to hamlet with prominent stone crosses at most of the intersections. Volcanic rocks were under our feet and the Velay volcanic  mountains a constant background. A steep drop brought us into Goudet on the Loire and a possible refreshment stop at the hotel. The conversation went something like this…

Have you a sandwich?

No.we are busy with Sunday lunch.

May we buy a baguette?

I can give you one.

Thank  you so much.

Maybe you would like a little salad with it.

Just a little, thank you.

That’s how we found ourselves eating a substantial meal in their garden.

The steep climb out of the valley was rewarded with fresh orange drinks in the bar in Ussel. By now we were beginning to spot fellow GR 70 walkers from different European countries.

The smart gîte in le Bouchet provided a friendly evening meal with a group  of French walkers. It was unfortunate that one of them gave us a terrible night with his snoring and coughing. The joys of  the communal gîte experience.

Gite La Retirade

An easy or rather a Ryanair flight landed us in Nimes just in time to miss the  fast  train to Puy en Velay. So time to see the famous Roman Ampitheatre.

A slow, and I mean slow, train took us up the twisting  Allier  gorge on what must be one of the most spectacular lines in France. 

Eventually after a connecting bus we arrived in town below the  Notre Dame statue and the Chapelle on their twin volcanic plugs. Too dark for photos. This whole region is volcanic with all the old buildings made of black basalt. A quick crepes and we were dead for the night.              Le Puy — Le Monastier.                                                                                                                       Today’s walk took us to Le Monastier where Stevenson and his donkey started their trek in September 1878. We had a leisurely day on old tracks through small villages making us feel at home here……all above wonderful volcanic countryside.

I was particularly interested in a field of climbing ‘blocs’ in the woods. Each boulder being formed in columnar basalt showing all aspects, geology exhibited for all to see and play on.

A comic episode occurred as we tried to decipher the code to enter our hotel for the night. Eventually quite a crowd were invoved all giving advice in various French accents. A scene worthy  of   Mr. Hulot.

Chasserades. —  Le  Bleymard.

Yet again we gazed out from breakfast at torrential rainfall, don’t know where it is all coming from. A delayed start avoided the worst. A small boulangerie was hanging on in this small hamlet, we gave support by purchasing some bread and fruit. It was whilst packing my sack outside that the dog attacked my ski sticks and refused to be parted from them. We dragged him out of the village and on down to Mirandol and below the famous railway viaduct. A local man wanted nothing to do with us so on we went with dog attached, any attempt to part him risked him attacking my overtrousers!  We made our entrance into L’Estampe and were relieved when a man in a garden recognised the dog and our problem. He announced that the dog was only hungry and tied it up promising to phone the owner. In a more relaxed state we were able to spot the first dedicated gite d’etape on the GR 70, sadly now defunct.

Into forest now with lots of climbing and descent to reach a deserted village and chance to sit and picnic. Other walkers arrived with the same intent, several of them carrying bags of wild mushrooms they had gathered. We had noticed lots in the woods but which can you eat?

Of interest further on was a close encounter with the source of the River Lot, a river I am more familiar with at Puy L’eveque. By  now the day had brightened and hopefully we have seen the last of the wet weather. Entering Le Bleymard we immediately stumbled on our hotel, the comfortable La Remise. They made an attempt to produce some classy French cuisine.

La Bastide. —  Chasserades.

The night had been stormy and wet.Several of our companions from the last few days were leaving us today on a tighter schedule. At breakfast we said our adieu. Time was spent in the pharmacy choosing a protective cover for my left little toe which had erupted a painful blister at its end. Photos are too gruesome for public view. I suspect my gait has altered to avoid putting pressure on my troublesome big toe. Eventually after another coffee in another bar we set off up a lane out of the village. Sandy tracks through trees took us up to plateau at 1400m. The rain had eased but there were no views in the mist, hence the lack of pictures. Out of the clouds lunch, the usual baguette and tomato, was taken in a dry woodshed in a virtually deserted village. Disappointing road walking past uninspiring holiday homes brought us into the few scattered houses that make up Chasserades just as our chambre d’hote opened its doors. We were glad to be safely in as the evenings torrential rain started and continued. Pre dinner fizz to celebrate H’s birthday led to another convivial evening with our new companions, two delightful French couples who had started at La Bastide to complete the walk they commenced last year.