Travel France: Vallée de Louron
More than twenty years have passed since I was last in the Vallée de Louron, and things have gone decidedly downhill; these days I have a larger stomach, my joints creek, and I ache constantly in places I never used to have.
The valley, on the other hand, is every bit as beautiful and tranquil as I remember it, and now they have Balnéa, which is not an illness, but just what I and my aching bits and pieces need – a thermal spa centre. To some extent I had been lured to this sanctuary by the picture of a dusky maiden plastering someone (me, perhaps) with mud, but this modernistic centre is much more than a mud bath. This is a place to relax, pamper yourself with a massage or one of a whole range of medical treatments. Or to simply chill out, warm up, or both, in the water-filled cabins and pools that seem to occupy every corner of this complex, and range in temperature from Turkish sweaty to Norwegian chilly.
There’s even a large separate pool for families, and, for those who have finally shaken off the family, areas where children under twelve are not permitted. Here you can relax in bubbling baths, Jacuzzis and whirlpools, steam rooms and saunas, or spend an hour or so in a room full of instruments of torture that some people call a gymnasium. This region of France is, after all, the principal centre for thermal spa treatments.
In the Louron
I’m staying in the delightful hamlet of Loudenvielle in the Louron valley, about which most guides say absolutely nothing at all; which is a pity. Or maybe it isn’t.
It’s a tiny place roughly mid-way between Arreau and Bagnères-de-Louchon; has a simple but attractive church, some decorated fountains that feed into ancient drinking troughs, and a small shop that sells the most scrumptious mountain honey made by high-mountain bees. There is also a cinema that doubles as a kind of interactive museum of life in the valley – Arixo. It’s all in French, but you really don’t need the words to understand the stunning images, which are agreeably touching and evocative.
You can continue down the valley for another five miles or so to Pont du Prat, and then, nothing, except towering mountainsides rising to the Pic de Lustou and the Pic de Hourgade. Further back, the headwall of the valley is the frontier with Spain across which lies the highest of the Pyrenean summits, Aneto (3,408 metres), and a host of others well-remembered from my svelte-like alpiniste days of yore, 25BS (Before Stomach).
As I write a red kite is patrolling the fields below; the sound of a green woodpecker yaffling is coming from across the valley, where a troupe of sheep, their bells a-jangle, are making their way up the hill slopes – they still practise summertime transhumance here, when wives banish husbands to the mountains for four months to look after the sheep and make delicious fromage de brebis. Fresh, clean air sweeps down from the mountains; burgeoning streams are filled with green-white torrents of melted snow and ice. And in Loudonvielle, the traditional village bells actually play a tune, of sorts, at seven each evening, on the hour – well, three minutes past.
Out of season, it is remarkably peaceful here. But this is a place with two seasons, so you have a choice of which season to be out of. Winter brings the skiers, the snowboarders, the snowshoers, and the varied assembly of adventurous souls that fling themselves across the snow-bound mountainsides in joyful abandon. Two main ski centres – Peyragudes and Val-Louron – offer 55 and 25 kilometres of pistes respectively, but from the valley itself they are remarkably unobtrusive, accessed as they are by long and winding roads.
Strung along both sides of the valley, like a disjointed necklace of pearls, are a host of charming hamlets, quite a few with fascinating Romanesque churches decorated with superb wall paintings that depict both religious episodes and illustrations that tell of the time when the valley was regularly besieged by the Saracens, notably during the nineth and tenth centuries – Aranvielle, Vielle-Louron and Mont are especially attractive.
But the one thing that is most striking about the valley is its tenacious hold on its heritage, its patrimoine. The mobile boulangerie still tours the mountain villages, and at the Moulin de Saoussas, just outside Loudonvielle, you can see how corn was traditionally ground and tree trunks cut into planks of wood by a water-driven saw. Throughout the year there are the ubiquitous festivals, celebrations, markets and fairs that are a vital part of the rural life of France. Many of the buildings, including the new ones, have the traditional small windows, and virtually all the buildings are roofed with auboise, a tile once quarried in the valley, but which is now brought in from Spain.
Of course, there is plenty here to occupy the body as well as the mind. In summer, you have the Pyrenees beneath your feet and virtually limitless walking for all standards. And in July the whole valley turns its attention to the fleeting but frantic visit of the Tour de France.
Come the snows, and the icy embrace of winter, and all the beautiful people arrive in their masses to take to the pistes, whether on ski, snowboard or raquettes (which for years I thought was a cheese!). This is the time of year when the hospitals do a brisk trade, and bar prices reflect the heady sense of achievement among those that survive. Beyond these mortal considerations, the scenery stops you dead in your tracks. Quite breathtaking, literally.
Further west
By contrast, the valley of the Aure, which begins in much the same relaxed vein from the charming town of Arreau, becomes constricted as you reach St-Lary-Soulan. On my last visit here, I went ten rounds with a recalcitrant dishwashing machine in a self-catering apartment, and lost. Today, I’m sticking to the restaurants and hotels.
Like Loudonvielle and Arreau, St-Lary, to use its familiar name, doesn’t figure in many guidebooks. This is a place which is happy coping with summertime visitors, many on their way through the Bielsa tunnel bound for Spain. But you soon detect that it’s the winter visitors it feels most comfortable with. And yet, apart from some evident high mountains, there is nothing to betray its pedigree as a ski resort. Like the valley of the Louron, everything is tucked conveniently out of sight, above the town, and accessible by a long and fabulously curvaceous road or a téléphérique that swings you up to the rather cluttered ski town of St-Lary Pla d’Adet.
The main town seems remarkably modern in its architecture, and compared with some of the ancient villages passed on the way, it is. But this is an excellent place for summer walkers, on the edge of the Parc National des Pyrénées and the stunning Massif de Néouvielle. Not until June is it usually possible to drive up to the Lac de Cap de Long and Lac d’Orédon. But when you do, whether walking or simply taking a picnic, it is a breathtaking experience, not least because the car park at Orédon is significantly higher than Ben Nevis, Britain’s highest mountain, and that at Lac de Cap de Long another 300 metres higher still at 2,161 metres (7089 feet), the air is noticeably thinner.
And then you start walking; or digging out the cheese and wine. Having done it many times, a picnic on the hill slopes above these mountain lakes, is highly recommended, as long as someone stays sober enough to drive down again.
Linking the two
At the apex of a rough triangle where the Neste d’Aure and the Neste de Louron meet, lies Arreau, at a modest 700 metres altitude. This is a shy, retiring place of fewer than 850 souls that proclaims itself in an unpretentious leaflet available from the tourist office. Yet it is for me ‘essential France’, the epitome of the stereotypical rural village that goes quietly about its business, and seems to come to life only on market days.
Yet the village has a remarkable individuality, situated as it is at what was once a strategic position at the confluence of two major rivers. The Maison de Lys, near the village centre, is a stunning Gothic building dating from the end of the sixteenth century, with a superb marble façade and decorated front. Just opposite, the mairie is quite modern, dating from 1932, but is built on the site of the former town hall which also dated from the sixteenth century.
The ground floor houses the market, which takes place on Thursdays and spills over into adjacent streets and across the river. This really is a quintessential rural French market – the cheeses were made by the man behind the counter from the milk of his own sheep, not by some distant fromagerie. The jewellery and craft offerings were made by the reticent lady selling them, who doesn’t want her photograph taken. And the honey, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if madame didn’t have names for each and every bee, and tucked them up to sleep at night with a hot water bottle. This is so very homely; so friendly; so welcoming. You can chat without feeling the need to buy; sample cheeses and fruit without the least obligation to leave with ten kilos. And if you want a simple illustration for your living room wall, then you get the full explanation, the history of the piece – not some high-pressure sales patter. And, if you’re French isn’t so good, then you get a slower version.
And, in a way, this comfortable ‘ordinariness’ is what so beautifully typifies this part of the Haute-Pyrénées. You feel welcome here, and may well end up staying longer.
WHERE TO STAY
Chambre d’hôtes Aux Noisetiers, 65510 Loudenvielle. Gîtes de France B&B accommodation with evening meal available. Rooms from €56. Tel: 00 33 (0)5 62 98 60 54 www.noisetiers-pyrenees.com
La Pergola, Rue Vincent Mir, 65170 St-Lary Soulan. Hotel and restaurant; rooms from €63, menus from €14 for two courses. Tel: 00 33 (0) 5 62 39 40 46 www.hotellapergola.fr
WHAT TO DO
Centre Balnéa, 65510 Genos-Loudenvielle. Thermal spa with three zones. Tel: 00 33 (0)5 62 49 19 19 www.balnea2000.com Email: info@balnea2000.com