TOULOUSE: LE TREK COVER STORY
EVERY WHICH WAY BUT TOULOUSE
First, we’d better tackle the prune issue. Starting from Toulouse, we’re going on a five-day jaunt around some of the loveliest landscapes in France. We shall be encountering comely hills, river gorges and philandering royalty. Castles and medieval villages. Toulouse-Lautrec, water lilies and rugby.
But we shall also run into a certain obsession with prunes. The Lot-et-Garonne county on our route is the French capital of the dried, wrinkly plum. The locals are terribly proud. They put it in anything – savoury dishes, sweet dishes, drinks, cakes, brandy, chocolate. Clothes in shops bear prune motifs. These people are convinced that prunes are not only tasty and healthy but also a tourist attraction.
Please don’t laugh or even smile, for these people are also very sensitive. Be serious. Buy something with prunes in it or on it. That way, you’ll make friends, thus enhancing both the popularity of the British and the enjoyment of your trip.
Day 1
Toulouse to Fourcès 2 hours We start from Toulouse airport and drive directly west to Auch, the pint-sized capital of the Gers county. Here, in the heart of Gascony, the rough edges of the Pyrénées have softened to gentle slopes, wooded valleys and old fashioned farmland. On arrival, I mean to do lots of walking, museums and uplifting stuff – but instead get stalled at the table, eating vastly, drinking Armagnac brandy and talking rugby with my new local friends. I wish you such problems.
In Auch itself, take in the cathedral, walk the venerable streets above the river and get used to lingering. Now head north-west, before bobbing along to the hill-topping Lavardens castle and the ancient village gathered about its skirts. It’s not changed much since villeins walked the streets.
Further on, visit Flaran abbey at Valence-sur-Baïse for its collection of Impressionist paintings. Just up the road at Béraut, don’t miss the Musée d’Art Naïf, enchanting proof that plump figures and bright colours know no boundaries. The Gers may be deepest France but it embraces world culture as it embraces milking time.
Onwards to Condom where, doubtless, you will have your picture taken by the town sign. Every English-speaking person does. But, rest assured, all the jokes have been made (and ‘Condom’ derives from its ancient name, ‘Condatomagus’ – sorry about that). It’s a grand place for a wander or a trip on the river before darting off down the lane to the tiny, ancient and oddly round village of Fourcès. Check into the Château de Fourcès (+33 (0)5 6229 4953, www.chateau-fources. com, doubles from £90, ¤135), a real castle of 15th-century power and 21st-century comfort. Dine there, too.
Day 2
Fourcès to Puy-l’Evêque 2 hours 15 mins More titchy lanes to Moncrabeau, slotted into trees and gardens overlooking the Baïse river. Against stiff competition, Moncrabeau is the acknowledged French capital of lying. Every August, competitors gather by the market hall, sit on the stone Liar’s Throne and tell tall stories to a panel of scarlet-robed experts. The winner becomes the King of Liars. The French rarely make fun of themselves like this, so cherish the place – before moving north to Nérac.
You’ll see the castle before you arrive. Make for it. This was the birthplace of Henri IV, France’s most popular king and the founder of the Bourbon dynasty. When in Nérac he would ride about the countryside, thinking royal thoughts and chasing country girls. The French admire that in a leader.
Meanwhile, his ferocious old mum, Jeanne d’Albret (“a woman in sex only,” they said) was championing the Reformation. It’s a rich story well told in the castle, and it continues along the river at Barbaste, where Henry established a fortified mill. This provided flour, defended the river crossing and assured Henry a regular supply of millers’ daughters. Perfect, really.
Now cross the Garonne to Port-Ste-Marie and, yes, the prunes. On this side of the Garonne, the river plain and hills are almost indecently fertile with fruit and veg, but only the prune has cult status. As you meander, please follow the advice in the introduction above. It’s not hard, and the district has many genuine treasures, including the LatourMarliac water gardens at Temple-sur-Lot. These constitute the world’s biggest aquatic nursery. In season, hundreds of different water lilies burst through the surface like so many love songs. Believe me, it’s worth tackling a prune or two to see them.
And so, via Pujols – a self-consciously superb medieval village perched up high – to industrious Villeneuve-sur-Lot, where French rugby league was born in the 1930s. Amble through the arcaded old centre, and then into any bar where, unusually for France, you may discuss the fortunes of Wigan RLFC.
Further east, Penne d’Agenais unravels steeply down its slope while, beyond Fumel and perched at the end of a blind valley, Château de Bonaguil comes on like a colossus. Fortified beyond reason, it could still hold off the Foreign Legion.
Finally, wind back down to the riverside settlement of Puy-l’Evêque, one of the prettiest spots in the Lot valley. Stay at the Maison Rouma B&B (+33 (0)5 6536 5939, www.puyleveque-maisonrouma.com, doubles from £35, ¤50), and follow owners Bill and Annie’s recommendations for dinner.
Day 3
Puy-l’Evêque to Figeac 1 hour 30 mins Start with a stroll round Puy-l’Evêque, its noble old houses climbing from the river to the 13th-century keep. The views to the river are grandiose. Then dawdle along the loops of the Lot through Cahors wine country, popping up to villages overseeing the river, or into castles for a tasting. If you prefer your plonk with a regal taste, choose the Château de Caïx. It belongs to the Queen of Denmark’s French husband.
Cahors itself is something of a sprawl, but the historic bit is lively enough, with a smashing cathedral. The six-arched Pont Valentré would be familiar to 14th-century swashbucklers, were any still available.
Hoof it up and out of Cahors, sticking with the Lot valley to Saint-Cirq Lapopie. Almost absurdly picturesque, Saint-Cirq was built when draping villages down rock faces obviously made sense. Now double back a moment or two and take the right-hander to Cabrerets and the Pech Merle cave, where you’ll find the finest prehistoric paintings in France still open to the public. If you don’t find them moving, you may as well head home and watch Celebrity Big Brother instead.
Carry on up this little Célé valley as it carves through the Quercy limestone plateau, creating soft sided canyons. Gradually, you’ll feel contemporary concerns running out and timelessness taking hold. In forgotten villages such as Marcilhac or Espagnac-SteEulalie, you’ll be tempted to stop and stay for ever. Don’t. You’ll never make a living. Motor on, instead, to Figeac – my favourite small French town. Check into Hôtel Le Pont d’Or by the river (+33 (0)5 6550 9500, www..hotelpontdor.com, doubles from £52, ¤77) and sense the centuries as you take the lowlit streets to La Cuisine du Marché (15 rue Clermont, +33 (0)5 6550 1855) for dinner.
Day 4
Figeac to Albi 2 hours 30 mins Get a map from the tourist office in the magnificent, 13th-century Hôtel de la Monnaie and explore Figeac. It’s brilliant. Half-timbered tanners’ houses lean against
Renaissance mansions. Little squares open up hither and yon. Streets press in, the better to concentrate the bustle of contemporary life bound for the butchers, the bakers or the market. The past throbs through the present, cafés spill onto the street, there’s a gratifying abundance of lingerie shops and everyone’s proud of Jean-François Champollion.
Local lad Jean-François deciphered the Rosetta Stone hieroglyphics and so effectively founded Egyptology. An exceptional replica of the stone covers the ground in the tiny Place des Écritures. This summer, the town opens a museum dedicated to its most famous son, and to writing in general. It will be good. Most things in Figeac are. You’ll not want to leave, but you’ll have to – for a last lollop along the Lot valley to Cajarc, then up and over the plateau to Villefranche-de-Rouergue.
Talk about unsung treats. Villefranche is a bastide – essentially, a medieval ‘new’ town built to drag peasants in from the countryside so they might be more easily taxed and defended. They’re all over south-west France, and invariably planned on a chessboard pattern round a central, arcaded square.
The extraordinary thing is that they are as well adapted to country-town life today as they were 700 years ago. Loiter in Villefranche and you’ll see what I mean. Now on to Najac, perched perilously on a rocky ridge. One false step and they’ll be sieving you out of the river way down below.
Pop briefly into Cordes-sur-Ciel, another bastide stretching way up high (ciel means sky). The sinuous gothic streets are so perfectly preserved that, frankly, fame and coach parties are eating at the village’s soul. You’ll be happier amid the big-town buzz of Albi. Check into the Mercure Albi Bastides, a converted mill on the River Tarn (+33 (0)5 6347 6666, www.mercure.com, doubles from £63, ¤94). Cross the bridge to dine at L’Ésprit du Vin (11 quai Choiseul, +33 (0)5 6354 6044), the proud possessor of a shiny new Michelin star.
Day 5
Albi to Toulouse 1 hour 15 mins Not much time left, so hurry to Albi’s two key sites. First, the cathedral, rising in sheer unadorned brick on a mesmerising scale – a statement of spiritual supremacy if ever there was one. Second, hop next door to the Palais de la Berbie for more worldly concerns in the Toulouse-Lautrec museum. The diminutive lowlife genius was born just across the way, in an Albi central street. Here, in the old bishop’s palace, they’ve collected a dazzling array of his works including my favourite, Au Salon de la Rue des Moulins, with its whores at once hard-faced and terribly vulnerable. T-L really could be strangely affecting.
If the schedule permits, have a scoot around the brick-and-timber warren of the old town centre, then hightail it back to Toulouse – via Gaillac and Rabastens rather than on the motorway. You may dump your prune purchases in the airport bin. Discreetly.
Images: Getty/Alamy/Shutterstock/istockphoto/Jane Gifford/Bruno Barbier/Corbis
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