A valley designed by artists
Jeremy Atiyah walks through the edible
landscape of the Tarn River, below France's Massif Central, and tastes the
local figs, chestnuts, Roquefort cheese and sage-and-honey vinegar
BEAM ME down into any obscure
department of France, and I will show you ancient stone villages, a unique
local cuisine, hilltop chateaux, edible landscapes, picturesque bridges and
great historic dramas.
Dubious? Well, take a walk through the Tarn Valley then.
This is the French Deep South, near Toulouse ,
where the River Tarn spills down deep gorges from the Massif
Central . The river has given its name to one of the
departments through which it flows. And it was here that I was beamed down just
last week.
A bird of prey in the skies above France
could not have landed with such unerring accuracy. From the minute I picked up
the route (in walking parlance, this was the GR36), the sun came out and I was
surrounded by fig trees and stone houses with mossy slate roofs. A tiny
Romanesque chapel emerged from the undergrowth.
Being honest, I'll mention that this
first hamlet turned out to be something of an anomaly. In fact, La Maurinie was
a place that would have disappeared years ago were it not for the attentions of
a family of Russian artists who arrived here in 1946. "It was a very poor,
wretched place when my parents came," explained Michael Greschny,
appearing with a gigantic key to open the chapel. "This was mostly stuff
we saved from being burnt as firewood." The chapel was packed with
fantastic religious icons, gloomy wooden Christs and popes in brick niches.
Michael Greschny has created a life for
himself that Merchant-Ivory Productions could not have dreamt of. Pushing past
plum trees, he showed me his studio, a medieval barn full of dusty canvases,
old clocks, half-finished works, cobwebs, skylights, and forests of brushes in
jamjars. And this ultimate Bohemian, who lives with a wife and child, even
manages to make money by running exclusive art courses and selling handmade
jewellery to Faberge.
Time to get walking. With half a jug of
wine in my belly, I was soon heading east in the direction of Ambialet. Perhaps
the whole Tarn Valley
had been designed by artists. Piles of firewood were stacked against old stone
walls overhung by chestnut trees. Dogs barked distantly. Rusty, ancient maize-
grinders occupied strategically picturesque locations beside geranium pots. By
the time I reached the Hotel du Pont in Ambialet, I had been nicely primed to
gasp at everything.
But Ambialet is where the Tarn
suddenly has a fit and tries to double back on itself. Having achieved an
impossibly tight loop through forest- clad hills, it then comes face to face
with itself; whereupon it balks, and retreats in the same direction as before.
The result is a tear-shaped isthmus, a squeezed hill of schist, surrounded
entirely by Tarn .
I took a swim in the hotel pool,
overlooked by a stone bridge and an old Benedictine priory on a craggy hilltop.
This place is so picturesque that even the local electricity-generating plant
has been built to resemble a chateau. The next morning I took a lift up to the
priory from where the whole bizarre panorama became clear.
Eastwards from Ambialet, the Tarn
throws a few more skittish twists before settling into a smoother flow in the
area of Villeneuve-sur-Tarn, where I picked up the path again. But here, on the
north bank of the river, I needed to pop in to the local Mielerie et
Vinaigrerie - owned by celebrated honey and vinegar producer, Monsieur Richard
Marietta.
This valley seems to have the knack of
producing well-sorted men. Living in a farmhouse on a mountainside overlooking
the river, with his wife, son, horse, dog and goat, Richard Marietta
fanatically grinds his own wheat to make his own bread. He also lovingly tends
beehives to produce honey which he sells commercially. You thought you knew
about honey?
"At 800m, the flowers are very
different to those at 200m," he explained. "Depending on the location
of the hive, and the time of year, the honey is very different. The honey
produced by bees who visit chestnut trees between 20 June and 20 July is dark
and strong; the honey from spring wild flowers is light and lemony."
Meanwhile, in another shed, a vast
fermentation was taking place: Monsieur Marietta uses tons of honey to produce
his luxury vinegar in barrels. An extravagant use of delicious honey?
"Why? People buy expensive cars
and travel round the world. Why should rich people drink the cheap, unhealthy
vinegar from supermarkets that took one day to produce? If they do, their
priorities are all wrong."
At that moment, tasting a golden
vinegar infused with sage, it was hard to disagree.
Back on the south bank again, the path
was soon running high above the river. I glanced back onto the town of Trebas , a
cluster of slate roofs, still the characteristic grey of the Massif
Central - though at any moment we would see the first
red roofs of the true south.
The path was an autumnal feast of
acorns, blackberries, hazelnuts and walnuts. Another bonus was the markings
along the way. As well as splodges of yellow paint on tree trunks, ancient
stone crosses marked the way, relics from the days when all roads here led to
Santiago de Compostela. Grey towers poked out from behind trees; churches hung
in the valleys; a hatted peasant was picking fruit.
If you continue along the Tarn
towards Millau, the hills become progressively steeper, culminating in the
Gorges du Tarn where the valley walls narrow to towering cliffs. I made just
one tentative step in this direction, to Brousse-le-Chateau, where the red
rushing waters split around an island mid-river, and moss-covered stone houses
huddle under a ruined castle.
The chef from a local restaurant, fresh
from his frying pans, showed me round the castle, explaining that its old
aristocratic occupants had been sadistic paedophiles who had the good sense to
sell up before the 1789 revolution - thereby excusing the revolutionaries from
having to destroy the property.
Further up-river, the gorges beckoned,
but I was diverting to the Rance, a fast-flowing tributary to the south. The
town of Plaisance ,
the first stop down here, was a dripping, tumbling mass of creepers, alleys and
horse chestnut trees when I staggered in. Torrential rain was sweeping the
valley, and the Rance was flowing red with mud, but I could not have had a
better place than the 14th-century Hostellier des Magnolias for a cosy night
in. Dinner downstairs by a roaring log fire was an orgy of local specialities,
ranging from cock's-comb stew (nul points) to pate de foie gras (dix points).
As for the cheese, I have only to tell you that Plaisance is just inside the
department of Aveyron where Roquefort is produced. Dix mille points.
The last day of the trip involved
spinning back down river to the medieval city of Albi, the departmental capital
whose narrow lanes and warm pink bricks offered the best landing place anywhere
along the River Tarn.
The pays de Cocagne was what they
called this rich trading triangle joining Toulouse ,
Albi and Carcassonne .
It was the land of the coca, the cobs of blue woad which were such a precious
early paint.
How attractive can you get: a city
built on the basis of trade in painting provisions? No wonder the people of
Albi are proud of Henri de Toulouse- Lautrec, their most famous son. Especially
when, 800 years earlier, these same people had been responsible for the
Albigensian Heresy, no less.
The heretics, known as Cathars, may
have been a funny lot, but it was religious tolerance that was at stake. And
when Rome
and Paris
conspired to launch a genocidal crusade against them, a murderous inquisition
began. But even from the grave, the Cathars would continue to work their
influence. The interior of Albi's colossal, fortress-like cathedral is an
improbable riot of colour, designed to reflect local tastes for the bizarre.
Even today, the citizens of Albi gather
quietly in their great church on summer evenings to witness son-et-lumiere
shows lamenting these horrors of long ago.
tarn valley
Getting there
Jeremy Atiyah travelled courtesy of
Inntravel (tel: 01653 628811), which organises walks for independent travellers
in the Tarn Valley
between late March and early October. A seven-night walking holiday from Albi
to Plaisance costs from pounds 529 per person. A ten-night walk from Albi to
Millau costs from pounds 690 per person. Prices include return flights,
detailed walking instructions, half-board accommodation in local hotels and
picnic lunches. Luggage is carried between destinations by car. Short breaks in
local rural hotels are also available.
Daily flights to Toulouse
are available with Air France
(tel: 0181-742 6600) from pounds 158 return, including tax, and British Airways
(tel: 0345 222111) from pounds 142 return plus pounds 17 tax.
Further information
Call the French Government Tourist
Office (tel: 0891 244123, calls cost 50p per minute).
No comments:
Post a Comment