LEAVING VILLENEUVE-LEMBRON BUT NOT THE AUVERGNE


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September 3rd 2012
Published: September 3rd 2012
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The last two weeks have been brilliant. There has been a different feel to the days and we have certainly recharged the batteries. Relaxing seems to have been the key factor and we have enjoyed experiencing new parts of France. Our time in Villenueve-Lembron seemed to go all too quickly but we left with many memories and a real desire to head back there one day in the future. The southern Auvergne landscape is so different to the rest of France and the mountains and hills appear to just roll over the countryside. We enjoyed driving from one village to the next; most of which meant winding your way up lanes to the top of a hill where the village sat overlooking the valley. When they built these villages in medieval times security was their key concern – I believe they got it right as no village has a direct route to it; rather you travel up roads that hug the land and give you fantastic views of the plains below. We cannot thank the Recordons enough for allowing us the use of their charming home. We loved their little piece of France and enjoyed just wandering in and out of the lanes. We read in the garden, walked to the top of the hill each day, wandered around the castle and church, walked to Bourdes, avoided all vipers, shared the sunshine with the neighbours cats, and generally did very little. It was bliss.



We did manage to extricate ourselves from the garden to make a visit to Clermont-Ferrand. This city is about 45 minutes from Villenueve and is the closest big city. It is well known for its rugby team with Vern Cotter the coach and one Sitiveni Sivivatu playing on the wing. They are rugby mad in and around Clermont-Ferrand and I saw more rugby jerseys here than I had since La Rochelle. Driving past the city one may be mistaken that there is not much to see or do in the place, in fact it has an industrial look to it from the outside. However, we really enjoyed exploring and we made our way up the hill from the Place de Jaude to the imposing Gothic cathedral. This building towers over the city with its twin spires towering nearly 100m above. Built over several centuries, it is constructed of black lava rock, which gives it a distinctive look and adds to its foreboding image as you drive towards the city. It must have been quite a sight for those who travelled there hundreds of years ago; today it is a French National Monument and is the seat of the Archbishops of Clermont. Once inside you get the full extent of the size and space of the building – it is 100 metres in length. The stained glass windows allow just enough light but it is their illumination that is what people come to see. The colours are quite extraordinary. Narelle and I split up once inside and wandered on our own but when we met up we both felt exactly the same thing – our visit was punctuated by music and both of us had enjoyed just sitting and listening. We had not experienced music in any other cathedral but it filled the space and allowed people to just enjoy. We have visited many cathedrals and churches on our travels round France and even though I do not consider myself a deeply religious person I will never forget the size and scale of these buildings and the sense of calm that emanate within the walls. They really are places of great beauty and serenity.



We wrenched ourselves away from Villeneuve head to the north of the Auvergne region and travelled up to Ros and Mac’s place, which is situated near the small town of Ainay-de-Chateau, via a lunch stop in Moulins. One of the nice parts of travelling up to the north was our conscious decision to use more D roads rather than the major AutoRoute. We saw so many ‘pretty’ villages on the journey – we could have stopped at lots of them and enjoyed a walk along a river or the outdoor seating at a local Tabac. I think one of the more enjoyable parts of the last few weeks has been the chance to experience new areas of France – many of which we would not have gone to. Someone said to us on this trip that they were heading off to see the ‘prettiest village in France’; I have no idea how they could choose which one wins. They all look amazing and the judges must be fraught when they announce their findings – in my mind the debate that was immediate once the subject came out shows how hard it is to separate the towns and villages. I visited at least three finalists (in my mind) during the week. The town of Moulins was a nice surprise – it too had a slightly grey look to it as we drove in but once amongst the lovely historical buildings and streets it was charming. I mean it had to be nice once we got there – Coco Chanel began a less well known cabaret career in Moulins, and I cannot see her spending much time in a dump. Once again the focal point was the cathedral that we walked up to along streets that could have been in England – winding and tight they disguised the gentle rise up to the cathedral but once there you could look back at the town below. We shared the view with a bride and groom who were busy with a photographer and they were trying hard to find places to take photos without a horde of tourists behind – using public spaces on a Saturday afternoon was not their best idea and they may forever have my head in the background peering round the corner at the bride. My Inspector Morse like deductions told me that the wedding may have taken place within the walls of the cathedral as white ribbon was still over the seats inside and confetti had blown over the steps. A religious building had stood on the site since the 1500s and the building was called a cathedral from 1822 – the two styles used in construction of the cathedral being Flamboyant of the 1500s and neo-Gothic in the 19th Century. Who can complain with stops like this – even the omelette in the square was good!



It is hard to put into words (and many may say good – stop now) our stay at Ros and Mac’s French home called ‘La Bolotterie’. When we first thought of going to France we considered moving to a village for a year and enjoying what village life brought. There was a romantic ideal of biking to markets and enjoying Pastis in local bars with, more importantly, the locals. We may have whittled our first idea down to eight weeks in France but I think we got very close to our original idea this last week. (I may need to add a disclaimer to this story due to the fact that when we arrived friends we knew from Ellesmere were already staying at the house; but it was nice to see Isobel and Trevor and a good few laughs were had) We had visited Ros and Mac earlier in the trip at their home in Shropshire and I had been lucky enough to have a spin round the country lanes in Mac’s brand new Morgan 3 Wheeler – sadly the car had not made the trip and with the weather that the UK has had over summer not many more miles have been put on the clock since I sat in it. Mac is promising himself to bring it across the Channel next year; it would be fantastic in and around the lanes near their village. Their home is nestled on the edge of the Forest de Tronçais, which was once the hunting domain of the French Royal Family. It is also one of the largest oak forests in the country and the tens of thousands of hectares provided much of the wood for the French Naval ships – both for building and for fuel once ships became steam propelled. Paul and I could have made a thousand sheds out of them. Wandering through the forest is not easy and any turn could see you lose your bearings as every direction looks just the same; undergrowth giving way to rows and rows of tall oak trees. Off one path is the ‘Font de Lait’, which is a natural spring that feeds down through the trees. At certain times of the year the area of the spring comes alive with white wild Garlic flowers and it gives off the impression that milk is flowing out through the undergrowth. Paul and I would not have been allowed to touch three of the trees, which are protected by 1899 French legislation due to their age. These trees are 450 years old and you come across them in the middle of one of the forest sectors. They appear to just loom up out of the mottled surrounds. The oldest one had shed a branch – quite a substantial one and thankfully no one was around. It had landed on the information sign that explained its age; if it had landed on you it would have ended your visit to the tree fairly quickly. We did take home a souvenir to hang on the wall of the cottage, which Ros will add her considerable artistic talents to.



Our visit to Herisson (meaning Hedgehog) saw us climb amongst the castle ruins and look down on the medieval town with its orange tiled rooftops. The river cut through the village and we enjoyed a picnic with chilled Rose and a few ends of boule. Throw a beret on me and I could be Chevy Chase. Near the tiny village of La Bouteille, which lies in the Troncais Forest area there is the touching monument to Royal Canadian Air Force Halifax crew who crash landed while on a bombing mission in 1943. It really is in the middle of nowhere and is a clear reminder that when a plane came down there was no control on its landing. It had been on a raid to bomb the German controlled Dunlop factory at Montlucon and was brought down within the forest – famers found wreckage scattered amongst the trees. Amazingly all survived and, although some were captured, many evaded the Germans through the assistance of the French Resistance who were active amongst the dense forest. Pilots were squirreled away to nearby villages – including Ainay-de-Chateau. The memorial is poignant in that all survived and their bravery is summed up in the somewhat short but accurate message of “We flew, We fell, We survived”. I am sure there are many more tributes throughout France that say similar things – it is worth a visit and in the fields behind there is a chapel no more than a small room that has stood there for centuries. Its altar is still kept and the door is open so push it and be amazed; we were. I have read more on the crash and have found some more information: http://cvirlo.jimdo.com/claude-et-pierre-virlogeux/pierre-virlogeux/john-murray-forman-2-english-version/



Mac got me back on a bike and we cycled the few miles to the lake where Ros and I swam in an electrical storm being watched by a bemused French crowd – I think they smelled blood and could sense a toasted Kiwi floating to the surface. We were removed by the lifeguard when the lightning bolts reached the trees on the other side. Our ride ended with a couple of beers at the local bar – in fact our run the next day through the forest ended in the same place. It was nice just being part of the community, and meeting Ros and Mac’s many friends added to the enjoyment. Over the last twenty years they have met and been befriended by many of the locals and we spent time at three different houses. Andre and Christianne had us over for a swim in their pool, to meet their grandchildren, and much food and aperitifs; Alain and Nicole served us champagne and pizza in the garden of their stunning old mill house; Jean Francoise and Evelyne entertained us for an impromptu lunch on our way to visit Sancerre – we never did make Sancerre, and left their house with the afterglow of the homemade plum brandy on our lips; we also met Michelle and Josette who gave us some pointers for Paris where they live for six months of the year. They were all wonderful and made us feel so welcome and put up with my very poor impersonation of French. The French have also been known to be a bit suspicious of British cuisine – it’s all boiled or roasted to them. I think we knocked their socks off when they came to dinner; Mac & Ros slow cooked NZ lamb on the BBQ, Narelle made a salmon and lime salad and chocolate pots, and I helped fill their glasses with some very good wine. They went away ‘’very ‘appy”.



It was just a great week with an Auberge visit in Tronçais, and to a wonderful outdoor restaurant next to the Abbaye de Noirlac. It was here that we were relegated to the tables by the car park lime tree due to the fact that we did not want to eat the Menu Gastronomique. There was great hilarity as the actual restaurant area was empty bar for two tables and it was windy and it took quite some effort to place the paper mats out! But rules are rules. Mac and I chucked the Frisbee around the garden while BBQs were lit – this included being introduced to Mac’s local game of Frisbee tennis. I was thrashed. We went on a trip to Bourges and once again found ourselves in a Gothic cathedral – the view of it as you drive into the area is amazing; seen from miles away it must have been quite a sight all those centuries ago as people walked across the fields and plains. As we drove back from the non-Sancerre visit we could not believe how it sat so much higher than any building. Thanks Ros and Mac for a great week – it was simply brilliant and we are so pleased you suggested coming to visit; the hospitality reached new heights when Mac started to clean our car on the eve of taking it back. After the last few weeks we are refreshed and ready to attack the final weeks of our trip.



Leaving the McCarthy’s we pointed the car in the direction of Paris and headed off. Ros and Mac left in the other direction on bikes and went to be officials at the local triathlon while we drove to Paris via the spectacular chateau at Fontainebleau – it reminded us of the palaces we had visited in St Petersburg as we walked through the gardens. It was our last chance to drive amongst the villages and fields of France and we both noted that in the seven weeks we have been here the sunflowers have finally disappeared – the last crops await their harvest but the bright yellow flowers are long since finished. It must be a sign that it is time to move on. We drove to the outskirts of Paris and at Orly airport we dropped off the car. It was Day 118 of the lease and as we pulled into the depot we brought up 9163km on the clock – not a bad effort for the trip. The 9000km mark had been recorded just hours before on the A6 to Paris. More than half of those kilometres were done in France over the last 7 weeks. Giving back the car was easier than picking it up – I signed off the ownership back to Peugeot and within minutes was back to being a non-owner of a car; when I own one again is anyone’s guess! This was the beginning of the end of the French sector of the trip. We now have three nights in Paris and then a flight to Barcelona. We have lots of favourite visits and ideas of what to see in Paris and we have promised ourselves a walking tour of sorts.



We have been spoilt in France, it has all been incredible and I can only foresee the capital of the Republic being just as memorable.


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4th September 2012

Chainsaw trigger finger
Hi Guys Good to read up - that bit about old oak trees really got me itching. Paul

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