Mountains and Castles

The first of May is a national holiday in France and over breakfast, (excellent if lacking on the sausage and bacon front) my hostess said she was going to Narbonne to join in the protest against the far right Marie Le Penn.

Having assured her that I was no supporter of the right, that Trump was out to destroy the world and Brexit was a terrible mistake foisted on Britain by Nigel Farage, Boris Johnson and the right wing media we parted on excellent terms, she to join the barricades and fight the fascists while I continued my holiday.

After leaving the village I found myself walking along farm tracks which ran  between deserted farms set amid rolling vines, the only things tough enough to do well in the poor soil. The vines are all dazzling spring green leaves contrasting against black gnarled stems. I wondered briefly if all the farmers had gone to Narbonne and what side they’d be on.

Vineyards in the Spring

The vineyards ended abruptly at a steeply wooded  slope which quickly took me up to another limestone plateau, this was the ‘Plat does Corbines’ and I’d be walking across it for the better part of six miles.

It was a bigger, more dramatic version of yesterday’s limestone plateau; the ground was rougher, the scrub thicker and taller and the wild herbs more abundant and aromatic.

I also met someone, a runner stopped for a chat, the first person I’d seen out on the hills since I started walking yesterday.

The plateau was relatively easy walking, rough underfoot but quite level with no big ascents or descents, until the final almost vertical drop off down to the valley and Durban Corbieres.

Durban was the first campsite of the trip and the site was a standard Camping Municipal, these are run by the local council and offer good if basic amenities at a very reasonable price.

Home sweet home

The next day, Durban Corbieres to Tuchan was going to be a monster but I hung  around until 8:30 looking for shops, unfortunately all I could find was a bakers which supplied a couple of excellent pain au chocolate and a nice loaf.

Where the previous couple of days had been a steep ascent followed by a plateau and a steep descent to finish, today was going to be more challenging, 18 miles over four ridges a veritable roller coaster of ascent and descent.

The first one was ok, the second hard, the third very hard and the last, no fun at all.

The scenery was also changing, bigger and wilder, there was no agriculture and hills were covered in a thick blanket of stunted trees and shrubs. The route wound its way on a variety of tracks and paths, composed of loose stones ranging in size from gravel to fist and football size.

It was obvious from the pattern that the culprit was water, while this is a pretty dry area overall it is prone to torrential rain storms and these wash away the small particles leaving only rocks of various sizes. The results are paths that need some attention and are rough on the soles of the feet.

Eventually the ridges were all climbed, the miles all done and I arrived in Tuchan and its excellent campsite which included a rather good restaurant. Salmon, avocado and mango (it was a bit odd) terrine, followed by steak and chips and chocolate fondant all washed down with a carafe of wine seemed appropriate reward for my efforts.

Going down one ridge, the next looms in the distance.

After a very good night’s sleep I was off again, a relatively easy morning albeit on very rough, stony tracks was followed by another very strenuous afternoon and another step up in the size and quality of landscape.

If the hills of the previous days could be roughly matched against the larger Lake District or Welsh mountains, by lunch time the hills had jumped to Scottish Highland scale. Very big ridges, still clad in dense rough woods but with added cliffs and rock outcrops miles long. I was definitely in Cathar Country.

These might be only the “foothills” of the Pyrenees, but they’re mountains by most standards.

A brief historical note is now in order and to put the route I was following in context.

Until the 13th century the south of France was virtually a separate country from the north; they had a separate language (langue d’Oc) closer to Italian and Spanish than northern french. The rulers were independent counts who paid the king in the north almost no heed and they allowed HERETICS to live and worship freely without interference from the Catholic Church. These were the Cathars, although calling themselves Christian’s their teachings were utterly different from Catholicism and they denied the authority of the pope.

Such a state of affairs was obviously unacceptable to the Pope and King, and it all came to a head in 1209 when the pope declared a crusade, the king of France raised a holy army in his name and marched south.

The Albigensian Crusade as it is now known lasted about 50 years and saw terror, bloodshed and mass burning of cathars across the south until all was subdued To king and pope.

Fifty years is a long time for a war like this to continue, the rough landscape was a factor, but so too were the castles scattered across the area. While not particularly large they are famously perched on the top of mountains and ridges, almost impossible to attack.

The walk I’m on, Le Sentier des Cathars, wends its way though this historic landscape, visiting or passing close to nine of these castles. I’d seen the first one, Aguilar, on my way down to Tuchan but it was too late and too far off track to visit.  The second, Padern, was again too much of a detour but the third, Queribus, reached in the afternoon was right on the route and only 100 meters above the path.

Chateau Queribus

It’s an amazing site, a castle perched high on a narrow mountain ridge, it looks impregnable, no wonder the crusade dragged on for so long.

The main, octagonal tower

View from the top of the tower, it’s a long way down

After a very interesting visit, a very long and steep descent brought me to Cucugnan, and its campsite.

With heavy rain and thunder storms forecast for Sunday I eschewed my tent and rented a gypsy caravan for a couple of nights in the hope of sitting out the bad weather.