Crossing a Continent 18 - Esperaza to Montagne Noir

[Paul Webster]

This is the continuation of the report from a long walk across Europe in 2003-4.
The first part of the report can be read on this link.

The previous post can be read here.

Day 81

The walk continues along country roads through the hills on the west side of the Aude valley, passing attractive villages, most with their own castles. We reach Limoux and pitch the tent on the campsite early enough for a lazy afternoon wandering around this fine old town, which has a beautiful square with arcades and timbered houses.

We manage to find a copy of the Observer to catch up with the news - a rare luxury. The endless pages analysing the Hutton report seem of little consequence, though I'm sure the investigation would have had me gripped at home. Other pages cover the 'Global Weather Meltdown' and the crises it is causing, at its worst right here in the south of France. The vines that have lined the roads since leaving Quillan are already being harvested, a whole month early, and the heat is also the reason for the early autumn colours. Elsewhere the Alpine glaciers are said to be rapidly retreating, and Mont Blanc has been closed to ascents for the season due to all the rockfalls.

Our evening meal is washed by a bottle of 'Blanquette' (Little White) - the local sparkling wine for which Limoux is well known.

Day 82

Again we face a long walk along country roads, with the temperature reflecting off the tarmac soon becoming scorching. Our lunch break on a village bench is enlivened when a man pops out of his house to offer us some of his homemade rosé - very kind as we have been finding the French are mostly pretty reserved compared to the Spanish. I doubt it's going to help us to continue the afternoon walk though... when we try to turn down further glasses, he insists, saying if we don't drink it we are implying it's no good!

We set off, rather more wobbly and soon hotter than ever, with the roads becoming increasingly busy - a sign that Carcassonne is now close. And then, as we cross a motorway bridge, we get the first sighting of its fairytale fortifications. It looks unreal - a medieval city surrounded by rows of giant walls topped by battlements and more than 50 pointy-roofed towers, with castle, cathedral and ancient streets within. It's a magical moment on our journey, but it takes another 45 minutes through truly baking heat before we stagger into a hotel I'd booked last night.

A restless night follows laid on the bed, sweating in the baking hot air. This weather is like nothing I've ever known.

Day 83

We spend the whole day exploring the medieval city - the only major population centre held by the Cathars until it fell during a protracted seige. The ramparts, towers and the castle look simply stunning - though they were apparently rather fancifully restored in the 19th century. More authentic is the Romanesque nave in the Basilica - tall and narrow with giant pillars, ending in a gothic apse with fine stained glass.

The streets themselves are full of ancient buildings, though mostly restaurants and tourist gonk shops today, and as full of people as the York Shambles near our home on the busiest of days. For respite we explore the Lices - the wide spaces between the two great encircling walls, which are stunningly floodlit after dark; it was here that archery and jousting tournaments were once held. Later we try the famous local (from nearby Castelnaudary) dish Cassoulet - Toulouse sausage, duck confit and bean stew, though we're less enamoured of the plentiful fourth main ingredient - tripe.

Day 84

Have we ground to a halt? After a long day of sight-seeing, we take a second rest day, this time running odd jobs around the Bastide St Louis, the grid iron of old streets across the Aude from the city and which acts as the true centre of Carcassonne today. There's a slight breeze, but the local paper says the temperature is 40C, and didn't dip below 30C in the middle of the night - no wonder we couldn't sleep. It also says that more than 10,400 people have now died during the heatwave. Over-budget, we get a buffet from the supermarket to eat in our room.

Day 85

We finally leave Carcassonne at 6am along the banks of the Canal du Midi, the beautiful waterway that links the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. It's much wider than British canals, with graceful, oval-shaped locks still manned by lock-keepers, and all fringed with majestic old trees. That local paper we were reading yesterday reckoned there had been several sightings of a crocodile in the canal in recent days, so we keep our eyes peeled in the dim light!

Eventually we strike off northwards to Conques sur Orbiel, an attractive little town where our GR65 balises (waymarkings) take us on a tour of the back alleys and through many stone archways before again heading north as it - once again - begins to get very, very hot. I was sceptical about the croc, but have to reassess after we spot an ostrich in a field, then a whole batch of emus, on a local farm where the scenery looks just like the outback, with singed bushes, scrub and brown grass. The route then leads us up into the Black Mountains, leading through more dried brown scrub before we reach Trassanel, exhausted.

No comment!

The tattered-looking village is full of broken down old tractors, and the expected gite d'etape has closed down. Nothing for it but to load ourselves up with another 5 and a half litres of water, purify it and continue the slog up the mountain road. Another 90 minutes further on we find an area of flat (brown) grass and camp, utterly spent.

Day 86

The gradual ascent continues, contouring round a hillside now far above the valley, with increasingly rocky slopes lending some character to the landscape.

Trees browned by the heat

It's already baking hot by 8am when we pass a campsite at a small reservoir - where we stop for a shower and to fill up with another 5 and a half litres. I'm powered by a croque monsieur up the final climb to Pic Nore, the highest of the Montagne Noire at 1200m. We could first see the TV mast on this summit from Carcassonne's walls; up close it looks like a huge red and white striped rocket, an oversize prop from the Thunderbirds.

Approaching Pic Noire

We lunch as we enjoy the view through the haze, with a constant stream of cyclists arriving up the winding road - the French certainly go in for the more strenuous rides. Continuing we soon reach the dilapidated Refuge Col de Tap where we had planned to overnight. However, the 'reliable' spring has dried up with the heat, so we've no choice but to push on for what is reckoned to be another 2 and a half hours to the next water source. In the event it takes us far longer than that, following the GR7 (our route for the next couple of weeks) along the undulating ridge-line of forest roads.

The plantations are monotonous, with only a huge projecting outcrop of rock providing some interest and a panoramic view. Eventually we reach the next spring; it too is dry, but next to it is a pipe dripping water into a fire-fighting pool, so we set up camp amidst the pine needles. The temperature was more bearable this afternoon with some breeze, but we're still exhausted, probably not really recovered from yesterday - we've covered 56km since Carcassonne. Once in the tent, I lie awake listening uneasily to a nearby lightning storm - well aware that never have these forests been so tinder dry.

To be continued...