Leaving the forest, perhaps

Another two days of moving east across the Sologne and Jay and I are nearing the end of the woods - we think. They have yielded up a great deal of pleasure and one or two surprises. For example, this enormous Robin Hood oak - the trunk had a circumference of about 25 feet. 

There is much of the following in the Sologne, which limits any short cuts and off-piste excursions from the footpath, the GR.

But with the many private estates, seeming to impede easy progress, go some lovely little chateaux. This is the Château de Montfranc. 

And this the moated Château de Chaon. The 2CV did not seem to have been placed just for the photo opportunities. 

Chaon's bread-buying possibilities are a big step up from a baguette machine. We bought our bread from the mayor's secretary, the Mairie being the 'dépôt de pain'. 

Yesterday brought a great deal of road walking for once. But today it was some very pleasant shady canal walking. The Canal de la Sauldre, built in the mid-19th century, is unique in France for being unconnected to any other navigable waterway. Its 45 km served only to bring water for irrigation into the Sologne and, even more important, marl to serve as fertiliser to improve the acid soil. This photo is taken from one of the frequent bridges crossed by estate tracks, all with the same distinctive iron railings. 

The canal is fed by the largest of the Sologne's lakes, the Étang du Puits, which on a glorious windy afternoon seems almost Mediterranean. 

Still in the forest

The Sologne continues to envelope. We - I have been joined at Blois by Jay - are three days in, at present at the little village of St Viâtre. The sandy tracks make for easy pleasant walking, especially as it has now cooled down to a reasonable temperature again. 

But the heat was good for swimming! Here is one of the Sologne's little lakes in which we had the perfect dip. 

And the butterfly count is going up. This one is a White Admiral, which I had hoped the Sologne would produce. Both sides of the wings are a treat to behold. 

Into the forest

The Sologne is a vast flat area of forest and little lakes to the east of Blois and to the south of the big loop in the Loire that has its apex at Orléans. The route now lies straight through it, eastwards, until meeting the Loire again higher up at Gien. As the crow flies, it's about the distance of Southampton to central London, although the GR zigzags quite a lot from village to village. 

It's not all forest however, especially on this first day. Indeed there is too much open country on what is suddenly a searingly hot, windless afternoon. Walking seems a whole lot harder! One of the open bits has this huge display of poppies in amongst a field of oil seed rape. 

The Sologne is the area of the mysterious demesne in Alain Fournier's classic 1913 coming-of-age novel 'Le Grand Meaulnes' where Meaulnes meets Yvonne de Galais for the first time. (I've only read it in English - so far, but who knows!) Most of the forest is in private hands, large estates where hunting is as important as any logging. Luckily, it's not the hunting season now, although preparations are in hand. 

And now the Loire

Blois, and the Loire. A milestone - see Charlotte's map in the first post to the blog ('The Plan'). The Loire is France's longest river - over 1,000km. And although I'll leave it shortly, it will be a constant for a couple of weeks again soon. It's a fantastic sight on a windy sunny day and photo after photo fails to do it justice. Here's the view looking south across the river from the main town on the right bank. 

The classic views of the river and of Blois are taken from the left bank. These photos are of 'the' bridge, the early 18th century Pont Jacques Gabriel. The first shows the twin towers of the church of St Nicholas and, less obviously, the chateau, while the second shows the cathedral, undergoing work.  

When I arrive in the late afternoon there are Terns tumbling and diving in the breeze, a bird one thinks of as coastal (the 'sea swallow') - who knows how far we are inland - all emphasising the vast expanse of the river, waves with white horses whipped up by the wind. And finally another attempt to capture river, bridge and town with, I hope, Jupiter at least faint and top left and Venus clear and in the centre. 

The chateau is a must and this is the Louis XII wing from the late 15th/early 16th century, from within the courtyard. 

And the towers of St Nicholas. 

Coming here from Vendôme, I walk for a while on this old railway track. (T, H and C will remember a longer stretch in Cuba.)

And that morning I nearly trod on this. I think it is an Asp Viper, somewhat more poisonous than an adder, but I was not going to hang about to check further. 

A day by the Loir

A day off by the Loir in Vendôme. My first sight of Vendôme, coming over the hills to the northwest and then the view of the town from the ruined chateau high up above the other side of the river. 

The Loir bifurcates at Vendôme and the neat, pretty old centre is built on what is in effect a series of islands in between the two main channels. 

Vendôme suffered a major bombardment in June '44 that destroyed a chunk of the old centre (the target presumably having been the bridges). But a great deal remains. Here is the building housing the Hotel de Ville, dating from the mid 17th century. For many years it was a school, which Balzac attended. 

Finally, a couple of photos for the lepidopterists, taken in a meadow alongside a tributary of the Loir on my way into Vendôme. I have convinced myself that the first is a Heath Fritillary and that the second is Granville Fritillary, both of which one would be lucky to see in England. But I'm happy to be corrected!

Moving southwards

The first vines! Looking back at the village of Trôo in the distance on the masculine river Loir, a tributary of the feminine Loire (eventually, via the Sarthe). Other evidence of moving further south is a couple of sightings of a Swallowtail butterfly, each time too elusive to photograph. 

Trôo is built on the steep valley side, very pretty with troglodyte remains and most of the houses done up. But all I want is breakfast after a night under the stars that I had not planned (the Moon, Jupiter and Venus alone in the sky in a perfect line as I go to bed) and several miles walk in to the village. And all Trôo had to offer is this.

A baguette machine! Surely not the future of rural France - no bar, no boulangerie? So it's another few miles to Montoire-sur-le-Loir where I call it a day. (Sadly, Montoire is best known as being the place where Marshal Pétain shook hands with Adolf Hitler in October 1940 and agreed to collaborate.) But Trôo did produce the first of these photos of carts that I've been taking over the last week. 

This last one also shows some of the distinctive building style of the area I've passed through in the south of the Orne, the east of the Sarthe, and the west of the Loir-et-Cher departments. The mixing of brick and stone in doorways, the alternating colours of bricks (less evident in this photo) and decorative patterning underneath the roof line. 

This is about the most extreme example of the brickwork that I've seen!

Memories of another war

Back in Normandy, the obvious memories and signs of war were all of WWII. But on moving deeper into rural France, it is WWI that one keeps being reminded of. France's total war dead of about 1.4 million greatly exceeded that of Britain, despite having a smaller population. Each village has its little war memorial and the vast bulk of names are from 1914-18. The first one below may seem rather garish but any fault lies with the photo - the painted soldier seemed to add a human touch.

Even very small villages often have 20 or 30 names from 1914-18. The memorial in Vibraye, a larger village of 2,600 people, has about 120. The side you can see in the picture lists only those from 1914.  (The plaque at bottom left puzzled me - Captain Malcolm Smith, May 1944. Investigation reveals he was a US pilot of a P47 Thunderbolt who came down nearby.)

I ask in the Mairie what Vibraye's population was at the outbreak of WWI. About 2,900, not much different to now. (The impacts since then of large overall population growth in France and of rural depopulation roughly cancelling out.) Hence the Vibraye WWI dead represented about 1 in 7 or 1 in 8 of what I think would have been the male population over the age of 18. And not so long ago. My generation could have talked with grandfathers and great-uncles about their WWI experience. If they had been prepared to talk about it, which this poster underlines was often not the case.

 

The lovely little village of Montmirail (from 'mons mirabilis') had a modern war memorial. From a distance Montmirail, with its castle built to defend the Chartres - Le Mans trade route, seemed like a Tuscan hilltop town.

And a wonderfully inviting hollow way, up to 10 feet deep in places, to lead me out of the village down the hill.