From Le Puy-en-Velay on the Stevenson path
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From Le Puy-en-Velay on the Stevenson path |
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1st stage: From Puy-en-Velay to Monastier sur Gazeille in Haute-Loire
No miracle weather this morning; clouds and drizzle still shroud the hills. The
undergrowth drips endlessly. In the waterlogged countryside, the flowers droop,
overwhelmed, as if sympathizing with the distress of these poor hikers who are
trudging through the muddy trails. Nevertheless, the crossing of Velay is of interest
despite this penetrating humidity; all this grayness and the low clouds weighing on
the landscape add to the wildness of the plateau. Atmosphere!
Away from Montbonnet, in its rural solitude, the modest St-Roch chapel, dedicated to the patron of pilgrims, still bears witness to medieval faith and architecture. I take shelter there for a moment, for a meditative contemplation, joining all those travelers who, throughout the centuries, have pushed open the door of this haven of peace and reflection. And the hamlets dot the path, gray stone islets away from the world. Hikers "in their shells" pass through them or brush against them, without seeing a soul. A long rocky descent brings me to the gates of Puy-en-Velay just in time for the benefit of a timid improvement in the weather. Until tomorrow, the discovery of the old city. Already, the maze of streets with large pebbles creates a very picturesque charm. Stage of 22 km.
Before
setting off to discover Puy-en-Velay, I need to solve a serious logistical problem;
my shoes are betraying me. It's one thing that these "dry line" leather boots have
sometimes resembled sponges; the poor things have soaked so much! But the right one
seriously hurts my instep; the wound is raw and it's no longer bearable. I did
"break them in" as I should have before my departure. Never such a problem in 20
years on the trail! It seems we are not made for each other. So, I dare to buy a
new pair, relatively light, with the risks of "breaking them in." I will break them
in on the rough pavements of Puy-en-Velay and send back the "disqualified" ones
along with the outdated topographical maps.
Three high-perched religious monuments dominate the city: N.D. de France, the superb basilica, and the chapel of Aiguilhe. I admit my allergy to this colossal, imperial statue of the Virgin, "cast from the Russian cannons taken at Sebastopol." What a bizarre association! The basilica is a remarkable Romanesque edifice, majestic, even grandiose, which one accesses by climbing a picturesque street lined with lace-like stonework. But to these imposing constructions that echo a triumphant and dominant Catholicism, I prefer the nearby cloister, discreet and secret, and the St-Michel chapel of Aiguilhe perched high on its crag at the end of 268 steps, where one discovers a small marvel of Romanesque architecture; to the elegant Arab style of the porch corresponds the oval interior colonnade. And suddenly, in the dim light, an ephemeral ray colors the large gray slabs with the brilliance of the stained glass... I start to hope for brighter tomorrows.
Over seven days, five of gray skies, rain, thunderstorms... It wears down the morale. Believe and hold on! Today a brief stage connects to Le Monastier-sur-Gazeille, where the "Stevenson Path" truly begins. It marks the start of the "St-François Régis Trail," marked in white and green (Jean-François Régis carried out missionary work in Velay-Vivarais during the 17th century and was chosen as the patron saint of lace makers. The trail bearing his name, marked in white and green, is a 193 km route leading from Puy to Lalouvesc in Ardèche).
I continue my crossing of the
Velay plateau. The terrain is thus moderate, with two gentle climbs, first to
get out of the Puy-en-Velay basin, of course, a good warm-up for the morning,
and two small hours later, after crossing the Loire at Coubon. The landscape is
pleasant. Don't be mistaken; the weather does not yet grant me sunny skies, but
I've seen worse. After enduring the Scottish shower, I
end up being satisfied with this intermittent drizzle. And when a fleeting
improvement illuminates, to the East, the Mézenc range, the chiaroscuro in
the infinitely gloomy sea of heavy clouds dramatizes the horizon of the volcanic
chain. And it's true, "sometimes, misfortune is good."
Without this rain, I would have had a picnic on a bank instead of seeking some
shelter in Archinaud; and I would have thus missed an unforgettable encounter;
she was returning from a mushroom gathering. "No," she replied, "there's neither
a bistro nor a bus stop in this hamlet." And simply, she invited me into the
old building she had bought back in her hometown. I resisted her stew, but I
gave in to the beautifully golden rice pudding. Nothing was pressing during
this short stage; the weather didn’t encourage lingering outside... So, we
extended the confessions of our mutual solitude.
At Herm, to avoid the asphalt
of a departmental road, I take a variant via Mont, a very nice bushy path, and I
carve out a solid companion for the road from a hazel tree thicket. Tonight, in
Monastier-sur-Gazeille, I sleep at the police station ... transformed into a
comfortable guesthouse! Stage of 20 km. The
Stevenson Path truly begins in Monastier-sur-Gazeille. This sleepy little
village deep in Velay owes much to the Scottish novelist. Without his adventurous
journey, who would still visit, despite its abbey and massive chapel of volcanic
rocks? It rightly owes him this commemorative plaque raised on the terrace
overlooking the Gazeille valley, the river that Stevenson heard "chirping"
before falling asleep!
Today, the recent rains have amplified the decibels of its song. And it doesn’t seem to be improving up there. Up there? The expression is bold "with a sky so low..." would sing Brel; and that heavy cloud cover really weighs down! Luckily, the morning drizzle doesn’t linger... We can manage the grayness. In fact, it even complements the volcanic desert.Since yesterday, it’s true, the contrast is striking; not in the landscape, but on a human level. The traffic at the two stages of the Camino de Santiago and the bustle of the streets of Puy-en-Velay make me feel and ... appreciate the solitude of the vast plateau. Even the passage through St-Martin-de-Fugères doesn’t change anything this Pentecost morning, not a soul in the street and the church is closed! Yet I would have liked to discover what hides behind this monumental facade topped by a "comb" bell tower (The comb bell towers are typical of the Velay plateau. They have a single wall topped with niches that house the bells. Yet this volcanic region is not short of stones. This architectural peculiarity is more likely explained by the poverty of the communities cultivating these arid lands. Obviously, it is more economical to build one wall than the four of a traditional bell tower).
The crossing of the
Loire at Goudet is a highlight of this stage. It’s not yet the languid river,
widely spread in the valley of kings between Orléans and Tours. Here the Loire
rolls its swift waters between the high cliffs of wild gorges. And the ruins of
Château Beaufort perched on a rocky outcrop complete this very Hugo-esque site. I
extend the charm by taking a detour off the marked path, a bit of entertainment,
in fact.After Goudet, the route imposed too much asphalt
until Ussel, while a bucolic valley offered itself a little off the beaten path.
An eternal chasm between walkers and motorists. At the bar in Goudet, patrons
recommended the departmental road to avoid the steepness and streams of the path.
Can these hurried motorists understand that the hiker enjoys the journey more than
the end of the stage? R.-L. Stevenson says nothing else, and much more beautifully,
when he writes in his Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes: "As for me, I travel
not to go somewhere, but to walk. I travel for the pleasure of traveling. The
important thing is to move, to experience more closely the necessities
and inconveniences of life, to leave the cozy bed of civilization, to feel under
my feet the earthly granite and the scattered flint with their sharp edges..."What joy it is to wander in the charming
valley of Fouragettes between Cros Pouget and Ussel and even further, at the
gates of Bouchet-St-Nicolas, to be awestruck by this immense blanket of
daffodils, dotted with the yellow of buttercups! Stage of
24 km.
Is it enough to have
faith? The weather forecasts finally promise a lasting improvement...
but Le Bouchet-St-Nicolas is shrouded in thick fog. No matter, I bet on the sun
and pull my shorts from the depths of my backpack. The
guide announces this last stage of Velay to be relatively
monotonous. What a mistake! Up to Landos, it’s true, the crossing of the plateau
is flat and almost straight; but what solitude, what tranquility in the
misty, crisp morning. I even catch sight of a fox returning to the lodge, its
prey in its mouth. Its flight when it discovers my presence!
After Landos, it’s a miracle; there it is, the sun so long hoped for! Just in time to enhance the vast landscape, the wide horizon that the path's balcony unfolds toward the lake of Naussac and the heights of Gévaudan. It’s a riot of colors and scents, a floral fairyland, with the bushes of broom now sharing the stage with the moving carpets of daffodils; there are also bunches of buttercups, forget-me-nots, cornflowers, and... My botanical skills are far too poor to list this multicolored bloom. This spring day, almost summer-like, finally allows for a leisurely stroll along the path leading to Pradelles. And in the sunlit village, I enjoy lingering in the Foirail square and sipping a frothy beer... while the hurried motorists conclude this Pentecost weekend and head back north in a long line. Happy hiker, I descend south at the pace of my solitary steps. The GR®70 leaves Pradelles through an old neighborhood proud of its heroic past and still offers a beautiful rural crossing. It’s quite pleasant to end this spring stage with a long descent to the banks of the Allier, which have been out of sight for several days now. A reunion, too, in the heart of old Langogne, with the Romanesque architecture of its church, the harmonious stone vault, and the rich sculptures of the capitals. Nearby, the monumental halls (massive colonnade and slate roof) testify to a rich commercial past. Stage of 25 km.
The troubles of a farmer, who took the joke so far as to impose a
toll for crossing his land, necessitated a modification of the GR®70. But the
new route doesn’t excite me much, and I still try to reach St-Flour-de-Mercoire along the
left bank of the Langouyrou stream. I'll pay the price in the Goat Ravine,
untangling a path amidst the maze of cattle tracks. And to think that today I enter
Gévaudan, the land of the Beast! This famous and mysterious creature, devourer
of women and children, which terrorized the countryside for three years in the
18th century, and which Stevenson refers to as "the Napoleon Bonaparte of
wolves"! The country, however, needs no monster to give it an air of wildness;
after the wide horizons of the Velay plateau, the vast panoramas towards the
Mézenc and the Margeride, Gévaudan closes in on the mystery of deep coniferous
and birch forests, rocky heaths with a boggy appearance.
After Herm, Sagne-Rousse, Fouzillac, and Fouzillic hardly break the solitude of my wandering; not a single soul in the crossing of these meager hamlets. Would the forest be more alive? I leisurely observe the antics of young deer until the most alert one lets out a hoarse "bark" and triggers their flight. Only Cheylard-L'Évêque seems like an oasis in the hollow of its valley, amidst the brightness of the broom and the song of the torrents. I would have loved to extend my midday stop at the friendly bistro in the little square... But then a sign announces an additional 4 km to an already quite winding route. Indeed, the mapped out course of this stage is particularly tortuous. One must believe that the novelist was in a very playful mood. I won’t complain. Walking through the immense forest of La Gardille is an afternoon of tranquility, crowned by a last idyllic stop on the bank of this little anonymous lake, nestled between the two hills of Auradou and Abïauradou.
As I descend towards Luc, I once again find the Allier. The village stretches
along the slope of the valley, beneath the ruins of its castle and an imposing statue
of the Virgin, which Stevenson reduced to "fifty quintals of Madonna"! Stage of 27 km.
Last night, the storm rumbled over the heights of Tanargue; this morning, the sky is washed clean and promises a bright walk... away from the GR®70. Indeed, between Luc and La Bastide-Puylaurent, where I plan to stop, the guidebook only mentions 7 km, and the markings mainly follow the valley along D. 906 and 154... I’ve come to develop a little fondness for the Allier, but not to the point of swallowing asphalt and sacrificing an escape into the nearby Ardèche mountains. And this detour allows me to pass by the Abbey of Notre Dame des Neiges, where the Scottish novelist stayed. Thus, I remain true to the very spirit of his endeavor.
Relying solely on the IGN maps at 1:100,000 and 1:25,000, I was determined to find a reliable route through the foothills of Ardèche. I discovered a true network of perfectly marked trails. (Since this hike, I have learned of a relatively recent guidebook titled "From the Gorges of Ardèche to the Margeride" (Ref. 407). It primarily focuses on the route of GR4 between the Rhône Valley and St-Flour. But it describes a series of satellites (GR®43, GR®44, GR®44A, GR®44B, GR®44C, and GR®44D—no less). Not to mention country GRs like "The Tour of the Ardèche Mountain." In total, 208 pages of itineraries, useful and exciting comments, ... of dreams.)
The morning climb is quite steep under a sun that is already generous. But the landscapes are worth it. And so is the pleasure of walking through the beech forest that covers the Moure de Manibles. The site of the Croix du Pal, where "GR®7 and GR®72" meet, along with a few local trails, is one of those places that exalt the senses, total solitude in front of a grand landscape, towards the summit of the Trois Seigneurs, the gorges of the Borne, and the ridges of Tanargue. Daily life then seems so insipid...The charm continues along the flowering banks of daffodils at Rieufrais towards the Abbey of Notre Dame des Neiges. We are only two visitors listening to the monks chant vespers under the Gothic vaults, like in the temple of nature; it’s the same tranquility conducive to meditation... Why rush back to the valley? Thus, I abandon the markers for a detour over the summit of Felgère. From its crest, I glimpse my near future: the mountain of Goulet, the horizon of Mount Lozère... beautiful days ahead.
In La Bastide-Puylaurent on the banks of the Allier is the Guesthouse L'Etoile; a former holiday hotel run by a Belgian-Greek, a comforting stopover, a healthy and hearty meal, a well-deserved shower, and a good Belgian beer. Stage of 18 km. by Jean Marie Maquet
Former holiday hotel with a garden along the Allier, L'Etoile Guest House is located in La Bastide-Puylaurent between Lozere, Ardeche, and the Cevennes in the mountains of Southern France. At the crossroads of GR®7, GR®70 Stevenson Path, GR®72, GR®700 Regordane Way, GR®470 Allier River springs and gorges, GRP® Cevenol, Ardechoise Mountains, Margeride. Numerous loop trails for hiking and one-day biking excursions. Ideal for a relaxing and hiking getaway.
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