A steamship in the large green
|
|
A steamship in the large green |
|
The steamship—that’s what I’d call the delightful holiday home that once was the Hotel Ranc or the Hotel du Parc. It’s like a vessel moored at the quay, complete with gangways, a bridge, crew cabins, engine rooms, and ship’s kitchens. This white house, rescued from the waters by a generous gold digger, Philippe Papadimitriou, is now the Captain of the Gîte (Guest House). He’s the master of the keys and the hatchway, a towering Greco-Belgian who pilots, builds, cooks, and clings to visitors he wishes would stay a few more days in Lozère.
L’Étoile Guesthouse sails serenely, just two cable lengths from the vast greenery, these oceans of nature that the Belgian or Flemish pilgrims at our table tonight traverse. Here, one does not meet without sharing dreams. It’s always at the Captain’s table where we’re invited—an extended invitation where friendships are forged, binding us to this place and its people.
I arrived with Eric Poindron, following his journey in Lozère, tracing the steps of Robert Louis Stevenson and his admirable detours—friendly paths where one takes the time to connect, and encounters are cherished and nurtured. The camaraderie that Eric extends, and Philippe perpetuates, is also a communion of images from distant trails we traverse before the crackling hearth of the steamship—a spacious room where the Captain’s laughter and songs resonate endlessly between two succulent pears. I meet Sergio, the big-hearted shaman, a doctor of seduction who also roams the Cévennes in his truck.
Before bringing the piano to life, Philippe strums the guitar, reminiscent of scenes from books, like in Eric’s ‘Belles Étoiles,’ where everything destined to be written springs to life before my eyes. In this gîte, there’s a touch of magic that sustains. Then, leaving the table and digesting a gargantuan feast (the gratin dauphinois alone merits a return, worthy of the finest ‘tables d’hôtes’), we venture into the night and enter the silent forest of the monks of Notre Dame des Neiges (Our Lady of Snow) on the Ardèche side. (Mentioning that the pear preceded the walk, I realize upon writing that I’ve inverted the sequence, but the order of memories is of little consequence; regardless of the setting, memory wanders into other forests just as mystical, ultimately a series of encounters and miraculous moments).
A pause in the forest, four men and a dog named Billy listen to the stillness a stone’s throw from L’Étoile Guesthouse, mere meters from a monastic enclave that distills in its cellars the exquisite aperitif ‘Quineige tonic wine’ crafted by industrious monks. We listen to the night, invoking the beast of Gévaudan that hailed from Lozère, imagining the shadows of the place’s ghosts in the forest’s depths.
Yet, it’s not at the Gîte that ghosts disrupt our sleep—neither those of the monster nor those of the affluent families from the turn of the century, women and children sent here to grant the patriarch, who remained on the Côte d’Azur, some peace. They were dispatched to do nothing but stroll, listen to the Allier river’s whisper (the border between Ardèche and Lozère), nap in the garden, and watch the trains go by. We couldn’t have slept more soundly. We, too, are tempted to extend our brief stay, which seems to have started long ago, thanks to the encounters and the congenial atmosphere. We must depart, Philippe, but you know well that we are destined to return. A fitting prophecy: ‘One always returns to L’Étoile,’ and a gentle verdict to come back.
Regarding Eric Poindron’s “Belles Étoiles”:
To lose one’s way, or rather, to have the time to lose oneself, is the true intention of the genuine traveler. This sentiment was perhaps unwittingly imparted by a young Robert Louis Stevenson, who trailed behind his donkey, Modestine, through the misty Lozère on a gray autumn day. One fine day, Eric Poindron, the peddler—pilgrim, editor, chronicler, writer—decided to finally trace Stevenson’s steps. Or at least, to an extent, for it is within the nuances and distances that genuine encounters are made. The ungratefulness of the never-ending ascents and the October rains are soon offset by a marvelous series of encounters, which Eric Poindron elevates, nurtures, and rekindles whenever he revisits the sites of his extensive pilgrimage across Haute-Loire, Ardèche, Lozère, and Gard.
Regardless of the circumstances, nothing dampens the amiable spirit of this congenial giant. With the visage of a rugby player and the stamina of a stalwart hiker, he enjoys connecting, passing through, introducing, and fostering a world of companionship. This world unites travel, the adventure of a trail—be it lost or found, clandestine yet not overly so—and the sharing of joyous moments around a bountiful table.
Eric Poindron on the Stevenson trail, and I—or perhaps another masked figure—on Poindron’s trail, journey alongside him and those known and unknown individuals. Those who, as Chris so eloquently expressed, are ‘unknown in their village, their street, or their building,’ yet cherish life above all else. To take the time to live, that is life; the immediate smile that hints at the promise of a new acquaintance, that is life; the terrine of fricandeau seasoned with herbs, that is life; the local wine and shared laughter, that too is life. To stay close to this luminous dream, the best course of action is to delve into the works of Eric Poindron. His book is to be relished like a perfectly ripe melon, like a pear from L’Étoile Guesthouse, like a finely cured sausage bearing its name, like the playful gaze of an enchanting shaman. Venture forth, leap from chapter to chapter, return to wander among the phantoms, to caress the imaginary stone walls with your palms, to sense the moss and the wind, and to embark towards the light heralding the start of a miraculous summer. “Collection Gulliver,” edited by Michel Le Bris, Flammarion. By David Collin
Old romantic Hotel, L'Etoile Guest-House is a mountain retreat in the South of France. With a beautiful park along the Allier River, L'Etoile Guesthouse is located in La Bastide-Puylaurent between Lozere, Ardeche and Cevennes. Many hiking trails like GR®7, GR®70 Stevenson trail, GR®72, GR®700 Regordane way, Cevenol, GR®470 Allier river, Margeride. Many hiking loops. The right place to relax.
Copyright©etoile.fr