A Tale Of Two Rivers
Posted Saturday 28th December 2024
Contents
- Getting To Go
- Listen To The Map
- Cross Country To The Cher
- Chenonceau And Culinary Art
- Roadbash Back To The Loire
- Entry To Tours
Having completed the first of our 2012 walks, through the Rhine Gorge (Wandering Down the Rhine), we set forth on what was expected to be a relatively simple but longer walk in the Loire and Cher River area – relatively flat and easy walking, or so we thought. Flat it may have been, but we still got a few surprises along the way.
Getting To Go
After a few days ambling around Paris (averaging something like 1·5 km/h while doing so!) we had arrived at the time when we were off to our next walk. The train to Blois ran from Gare de l’Austerlitz, but as fortune would have it the Metro station around the corner from our hotel connected directly there, making our departure from Paris relatively simple.
Not your normal railway conveyance but it certainly got our man at Gare de l’Austerlitz around quickly.
The train we travelled on to Blois was flagged away by an SNCF man on a Segway – a somewhat radical idea for a railway. The 150 km journey took less than 90 minutes even through the route was a very traditional railway. The Office de Toursime in Blois was easy to find and was able to book us into the Hotel France de Guise, a reasonably central hotel in which we had a charming little attic room. Shortly after becoming ensconced there a short but savage thunderstorm rolled over the town, providing a good excuse for doing very little for a while.
Rather later we ventured out to the square behind the Chateau where we were surprised by both a rain shower and a weird performance by animated and very noisy golden mythical monsters that dwell in the Magic House nearby.
Animated monsters in the Magic House certainly commanded attention.
Following on from this we set off to follow the Porcupine walking tour – indicated by little brass porcupines let into the ground to guide the way. Not entirely helpful instructions and accompanying map made this little outing both more confusing and longer than it might otherwise have been, although getting lost in medieval towns always has its compensations.
Following the Porcupine trail through the laneways of Blois.
Dinner was at a place advertising a Plat de Jour and Formula but we didn’t see the fine print ‘lunch time only’ bit. As a result, we had a modest meal that was adequate but didn’t do much for France’s gastronomic reputation.
Listen To The Map
So now we were at the start of the next, and longest, walk of our 2012 tour. The Loire and Cher valleys are more like the Goulburn or Murray Valleys back home than the 200 – 300 metre deep Rhine Gorge we had recently been walking in. As such we anticipated a rather easier experience.
We were all packed and ready before going down to breakfast, where we were somewhat surprised to find we were surrounded by a sea of greying little old ladies punctuated by a few isolated men who apparently had survived to beyond the average age for French males. Welcome to bus tourism in the 21st century! Breakfast was adequate but way ahead of Paris on a value for money basis. We checked out around 08·30, but then spent the next 45 minutes acquiring the makings for lunch and a few other bibs and bobs that would hopefully be of use to placate creaking joints and sore feet.
Starting out along the riverside just out of Blois – but not for long.
We crossed the Loire then joined the bike track along the river front – a very pleasant way to go we thought – and indeed it was for a kilometre or so. At that point the bike track climbed across the road on top of the flood levee and found a new home on the inland side – a comparatively uninteresting prospect through fairly ordinary cropping country. This went on for a further five km or so to a point where the marked track veered off inland.
Five kilometres along we came to a gap in the levee and a decision point – and made the wrong choice.
At this point the navigator in chief made the decision to follow the riverside road, despite what the map said. Wrongly as it turned out but that didn’t become clear until too late. Once past the immediate mistake point it became apparent that the road had no provision for walkers, the river was all but invisible from the road and the scenery if anything was even less stimulating than earlier. In fact, because the road was up on the levee it had a long range view forward which only highlighted to us how far we had to walk in our self inflicted situation.
The long and relatively dreary road bash – the penalty of a poor decision.
Fortunately, there was relatively little road traffic, but each time a car approached, as a matter of prudence, we stepped well back into the roadside weeds, even though the cars generally veered over to the wrong side of the road in any case. (or maybe they veered onto the right side of the road since they normally drive on the wrong side over there!!) Around half an hour in we stopped at one of the few minor road intersections to have a bit of morning water, which revived us physically but not in spirits. Somewhere further down the road a few buildings appeared, but they turned out to be deserted – although some were so close to the road that it was quite risky getting around them in the face of oncoming traffic.
Getting around this obstacle safely required a bit of care.
In time we espied in the distance what might have been a settlement, but it was another half an hour before we were close enough to be confident that we had finally arrived at our destination village. First there was a sign, then a walled chateau, then a row of desultory buildings, which looked to be to all intents abandoned.
Cande sur Beuvron at last – the best view we had seen for a few hours.
We shuffled along for around 500 metres until in the distance we saw the road ended opposite a hotel – sustenance and a roof at last, or so we thought. Closer inspection revealed no more life than we had earlier encountered and in fact a sign on the door (which we translated with difficulty) revealed the hotel was ferme on Monday and Tuesday so we in fact had neither. More obligingly the Office du Tourisme was open on Tuesday but not until 14·00. We sat outside Tourisme and consumed our lunch, ducking for cover under the tiny bit of roof at the doorway when passing showers passed, as they did several times.
In time, but a bit late, the Tourisme lady did turn up and she had a modicum of English which went with our Mench (mangled French) sufficiently that we could understand each other. The good news was that there was another hotel around 500 metres away, but the bad news was that it wasn’t open until 16·00, and in fact didn’t even take phone calls until then. So we had another couple of hours to fill in, although we were able to leave our packs behind.
Max had noticed a Tabac while we were waiting so we thought that something to drink might be in order. The Tabac was a desultory place reeking of wet dog – a large wet Alsatian resided in a corner – with a pool table with a big tear in the cloth filling the middle of the room, and a single customer slumped over the bar. We consumed our drinks with due haste and were pleased to be able to leave the place.
We had sensed that there was a boulangerie somewhere, but since the various finger boards and maps all disagreed as to where it was, we instituted a bit of a search. We went back via the inbound road and were intrigued by the large number of cars parked behind the Chateau. Being inquisitive and with time on our hands we went in to see what we could find. After some time, a young man of Germanic origin came out to see what we were about – it turned out that this was a Catholic monastery training seminarians to go out and ‘work in the community’. He talked at some length about his work and beliefs and let us know that if we wished we could attend sung vespers at 19·00 that evening, an unusual cultural event for such an unprepossessing place.
‘Headstone’ in the somewhat dated cemetery at Cande.
From there we meandered around, finding an old cemetery that seemed to predominantly be the last resting place of people who had died around the time of the First World War. There was something quite appealing about its tired but formal appearance. From there we wandered uphill, at one point grazing on raspberries poking through a fence, until quite unexpectedly we came across Commerce, which we had noted on the map but assumed it was an industrial site. There was not only our missing Boulangerie but a small supermarket, a ‘tea’ house, a butcher and a hairdresser. We patronised the first two, stocking up on consumables for the morrow, as well as a few little spirit lifters for today.
The ‘sur Beuvron’ part of Cande – the old bridge, typical of the stone arch bridges of the region.
We then returned to Tourisme and although we were a bit early the hotel had answered the call and we had a room for the night. So suitably re-burdened with our packs we set off the 500 metres or so along the Les Montils road, realising along the way that our feet were definitely not going to vespers whatever the rest of us might have thought. The hotel was expecting us and we were settled in within a short time, having made a reservation for dinner much later that evening – something we thought was a bit pretentious in such a small place but which later turned out to be entirely justified.
We went through the wash us / wash clothes and siesta process as usual, even if rather later than we would have liked. Drying our washing was made a lot easier with the heated towel rail, another handy aspect of this place. At 19·30 we headed down to dinner all dressed in our best dining outfits (which exactly matched our normal walking clothes) to find a room with a bit of ambience and a menu with a series of formulas.
We chose the menu “affaire” – a small bouche of cold tomato soup, chicken breast done in a mustard sauce served with bundled spinach and other greens with the finale of nougat ice cream. Altogether a very pleasant evening, particularly given the earlier experiences we had endured during the day. There was a large table of diners nearby and among their lot we detected accents of an Australian, at least one Pom and a North American, but since they seemed to be mainly talking about real estate, we decided that there was no point in revealing our identity or nationality.
The distance from Blois to Cande sur Beuvron was 16 km and we took just 3h 25m to do it – by far the fastest walking pace so far, but indicative of the nature of the walk. We reckon we probably covered another three or four km between arriving at Tourisme and getting to the hotel so it was a rather long day with some fraught aspects. The day was partly sunny, but equally there were scattered showers – fortunately mostly while we had some shelter.
Cross Country To The Cher
We were up around 06·40 after a reasonable night’s sleep. Breakfast was in the usual French style before hitting the road at about 08·20. We walked back to near Tourisme then turned south and crossed Le Beuvron, joining GR3 (Grande Randonnee – long distance walking route) at that point. The first two kilometres was along a quiet road, passing Camping along the way which we noted had cabins – something we were not aware of and apparently nor was Tourisme.
Roadside walking through pleasant forest followed GR3 until it veered away from our route.
The road climbed gently through rather lovely woodland until the GR3 veered off right and the road, which we continued to follow, meandered through cereal crops for another two kilometres to a five way road junction. At this point we picked up the GRP (Grande Randonnee de Pays – regional walking route) which was to be our guide for the next two days through to Montrichard.
It is surprising where marked tracks sometimes take you – the GRP takes to a grain field.
Not far from the road junction the GRP veered off into a vineyard and from there onwards we were mostly on walking tracks, initially through cropped fields and vines then beside a forest and later into the forest.
Walking between the forest and the local agricultural pursuits – a surprisingly pleasant way to go.
In places there were unexpected turns and we found that our best friends were not the track markers as such but rather the red and yellow X’s indicating wrong way. Several times the straight ahead route was not in fact the walking route – on one occasion Sue was leading and missed the side marker in a forest. I was a fair way behind and just fortuitously saw the side marker but then had a long chase to get close enough to call Sue back.
There had been a lot of recent wood gathering in the forest, it being notable that Europeans are not as stupid as us and do not clear fell their forests. The consequence however was that the woodland tracks were badly churned up which, with recent rain, had made them rather uncomfortable to walk on.
Not all forest walking was easy – churned up tracks sometimes meant muddy and slippery walking.
In time we came out of the forest, meeting a couple of hares and a deer or two in the newly planted fields nearby. The track followed a fairly convoluted route through open country, and it took us a while to realise that, in the absence of trees and posts, track markers were now on rocks let into the ground and sometimes fairly overgrown.
Out of the forest the markers were on stones let into the ground – not easy to find.
We did make a wrong turn at one point but superb navigation (yet again) had us back on track soon afterwards, around the same time it started to rain. Since Pontlevoy was visible in the middle distance we made straight for it via a local road rather than continue with the meanderings of the GRP, arriving in the centre of the village about the same time that the rain stopped. Thoroughly wet by this stage we found Le Commerce bar open and thriving, although noting the Boulangerie was firmly ferme. It seems that Wednesday was the shut day in this village – rather denying the Monday convention. Shut days seem to have been following us and tormenting us on this walk, although we didn’t know the worst of it – yet. Interestingly, apart from a couple of bikes early in the day we had met very few people and no other walkers.
Drying out at Le Commerce – the least open village we encountered on this walk.
We set up at an outdoor table at Le Commerce and spent an hour or two eating our lunch while consuming a refreshing drink or two from the bar. In the mean time the sun and breeze did their best to dry our various bits out. Le Commerce advised that the Office du Tourisme no longer exists, while the only hotel operating was the one on the main road which re-opened at 15·00. In time we walked the 100 metres to the hotel, where we got a room but discovered because it was Wednesday the restaurant would not be open at night. Since the Boulangerie was shut and Le Commerce didn’t stay open past 18·00 we were, rightly as it turned out, quite concerned. However, we had noted a Pizza / Glace corner store on the way in with a dusty chalk notice advising that it opened at 18·00.
After the usual afternoon lay-over I went out, around 17·30, to find that Le Commerce had already gone home, that the pizza place was quite devoid of life and presumably is just another part of the village which has died and the only place that was open was the Tabac which sold us two small Perrier with great reluctance. More in frustration than anything else I wandered down to the southern end of town, finding a service station with no petrol pumps, a Fromage Chevre place which was shut and a bank, which deserved accolades for remaining in a dying town but was of no immediate use.
Way down at the far end of town i found a finger board with obscure wording pointing back toward where I had come from but up a side road. More out of curiosity than anything else I followed its direction a km or so until I found a small supermarket, which even more fortuitously was open. They had little that was of use to us since we had no plates, cutlery or cooking facilities, but at least it had some fruit. So, in the end we had old baguette, old cheese, old chorizo, a banana, an orange, a Mars Bar and a sip of Perrier for dinner – barely filling but a lot less expensive than any more civilised alternative.
Dinner at Pontlevoy was right at the bottom of the scale of gastronomic delights.
An odd thing I noted while chasing around the village was a historical plaque referring to a former Blois – Montrichard railway which passed through the village – I had never heard of it but assume that it could have been a victim of WW II since the border between Occupied and Vichy France was close by.
Distance covered was 16km and took 4h 00m to complete, slowed to some degree by muddy forest tracks and a return to slow walking now that we were back in the swing of things. Apart from the rain around midday it was clear but with some cloud.
Next morning were up and all prepared well before breakfast time, possibly due to lowered blood sugar levels as a consequence of last night’s feast. The room was set for seven people across four tables so I guess the hotel was not overwhelmed, although where the other guests had been fed the night before was a bit of a mystery. After checking out we headed straight to the Boulangerie to acquire some sustenance for morning munchies, then followed the GRP through the back streets of the village to a walking track through cultivated fields – in fact we didn’t get back into walking on roads until the outskirts of Montrichard.
We assume that this was the local child care system doing its morning rounds. All very rustic.
An excess of crushed limestone (as compared to the surrounding paddocks) and an alignment befitting of a railway led me to think that we might just possibly be walking the route of the long gone railway, but the clincher was a couple of heavy duty fence posts with dog spike holes in them.
Walking out of Pontlevoy following what looked to be the old railway.
From time to time the walking track (by now departed from the rail alignment) meandered through open fields maintaining a discreet distance from the main road off to the east.
In time we crossed into a forest and, having been warned by Walking in France, were on the lookout for the left turn onto a narrow forest foot track – they missed it and finished up following an extended route into Montrichard. I spied a track at the same time that Sue spied the unmistakable yellow sign board so we made the turn as GRP makers intended.
The vital sign post which ensured we took the shorter route into Montrichard.
The forest walk was through groves of tall deciduous trees with dappled sun shining through to the leaf encrusted forest floor, a delightfully quiet and pleasant place. Somewhere along the way we took possession of a fallen log to consume our pastries and just enjoy the location.
Morning tea time in the forest – a peaceful interlude in a delightful place.
From there the track wriggled its way through the forest, which changed to conifer as we progressed, until it quite suddenly came out at the top end of Montrichard roughly one kilometre from the town centre.
Montrichard is on a bit of a hill, as its name suggests, but what was surprising was the fall down to the Cher River – possibly 50 metres or so lower than where we came out of the forest. The somewhat featureless valleys in fact had a few surprises for us. A tiring plod down the foot way beside the main road was punctuated by barking dogs (fortunately contained behind fences) and the usual French obsession with parking on the already barely adequate footpath.
In time we came to a bridge over the railway between two tunnels (the only tunnels we saw in the Loire or Cher valleys) and then into what was obviously the much older centre of town down next to the river. One of the difficulties we periodically encountered was deciding which way to the Office du Tourisme after arriving in the middle of a one main street town – in this case we got it wrong and eventually had to ask. When we did find them, just on the cusp of shutting for the midday break, they were as usual most helpful, finding us the Hotel de Gare (next to the station as its name suggested) and also making a reservation at Blere for the next night – we had been cautioned about Friday and Saturday night being busy, the obverse of the nominal Monday shut day.
Hotel de Gare was to be our home for the night – a comfortable place with abundant food.
Having done all the important things, we decided it might be time for a refreshing ale and something to eat. The Place de Verdun had several likely looking places but we chose the one with a hand written chalkboard menu that included what looked like ‘poivre vapeur’ (pepper steam?) but in fact turned out to be poisson vapeur – steamed fish – so that is what we had. In time we wandered the several hundred metres to the hotel, where we were welcomed with open arms, and once settled did our usual washing and siesta thing.
Somewhat later we set out to explore the older part of the town, noting a number of donjons (cliff dwellings) along the way – something that appears to be quite common in this part of the world. We didn’t make a lot of progress before settling down on the river front so that Sue could sketch the bridge – an interesting stone arch structure with no two arches the same.
The bridge over the river Cher – no two arches are the same.
Sue sketching the bridge during the evening peak – all 15 minutes of it.
The limitations of the bridge were revealed during a peak hour that lasted around 15 minutes at most. Locals with the little doggies (and in some cases quite big dogs) were out for their evening strolls, while bicycles were almost as common as cars.
Wandering back through a different part of town we stocked up on supplies for tomorrow’s lunch before sorting ourselves out for dinner at the hotel. The small dining room was full and the food was plentiful and good. We began with melon and jambon, which was supposed to be a starter but was big enough to be a main, then Sue had steak with roquefort sauce while Max had veau – kidneys. Neither us could even contemplate the dessert or cheese platter that was intended to follow.
The soft cheese we had been carrying for a couple of days had developed a decidedly pervasive fragrance, such that it was overwhelming the socks and other usual smells in the pack. It was obviously time to dispose of it so, securely wrapped, but still very noticeable, I carried it off to bin it but was waylaid by the hotel people who probably smelled me coming – so they got rid of it for me.
This was a shorter day covering just 12km but taking a bit over 3 hours to complete. The day was mostly sunny and by the time we reached our destination it was getting quite warm.
Chenonceau And Culinary Art
We woke to find it had been raining overnight and still looked to be quite threatening. Nevertheless, were up early and down to breakfast, to find no cereal, fruit or boiled egg – just the croissants, baguette and sweet spreads. It seems that we had crossed a cultural border, since these continued to be absent until we arrived back in Germany.
We had an option to follow along either bank of the Cher through to Blere. In the end we settled for the north bank to the Chenonceau bridge then the opposite side through to our destination. We acquired a baguette at the Boulangerie then found our way to the river and off we went along a nice soft earthen path.
The riverside path meandered between riverside and parklike surrounds, but always near to the river.
From time to time there were quite substantial earthen mounds which we later discovered were mole hills. One near the river bank apparently had a cavern below it which a horse had broken through, leaving a rather large hole with unstable edges, although the horse had obviously escaped.
Unlike the Loire the track was right on the riverbank all the way and as such was much more interesting. At intervals we came across old locks, all on the north side of the river and with identical lock keeper’s cottages built beside them on raised mounds – presumably to provide some flood proofing for the keepers although at such times the lock would be underwater. The locks didn’t look as if they are still used but there were craft on the river that must have got there somehow.
A chateau (?) buried in the woodland on a mid-stream island.
Toward Chenonceau there was an island mid river, well overgrown but with a large house (or was it a miniature chateau?) half concealed in the trees. Not far down was the next lock and its accompanying cottage followed shortly after that by the Chenonceau bridge, a fine stone structure spanning the river and one of three bridges we encountered during the day – this however was the only bridge we needed.
Chenonceau bridge – the highest elevation we reached all day.
The track on the south bank of the Cher went into a bit of riverside woodland with the result that the grand Chateau de Chenonceau slowly revealed itself as a rather large and mysterious white structure looming out of the trees. It is a great way to come across one of the best known Chateaus in the region. Chenonceau, which straddles the river, has been described as a “palace built solely for pleasure”. It has a complex history involving Henri II, and five women (not all associated with Henri) who severally created and expanded it over a period of around 400 years from the early 1500’s. It is probably the most ornate of the chateaus and castles we came across, not the least because of its commanding position in the river.
The astounding Chateau Chenonceau – a “palace built solely for pleasure” – our first full view.
Chenonceau straddles the river with a small drawbridge either side to allow access.
A most imposing structure with a beautiful symmetry in its design.
The circular tower stands over the inevitable walled garden – but we were on the wrong side to see it.
As we headed away from Chenonceau we were passed by a junior school group out for an excursion on their bicycles, despite the riverside track having no safety fence to save them from an unintended plunge. The French, it seems, haven’t yet caught the nanny disease.
The junior school group pedalling along the bank of the Cher at Chenonceau.
The track kept close to the river but came out into cropping fields and riverside grassland in time.
Time for a riverside rest, opposite a lock and attendant cottage.
Opposite the last lock, which was in this area, we in fact took it upon ourselves to have a little nap in the sun and not long afterwards decided that it was all too nice and partook of lunch at a riverside park. Although it was sunny there was a cool aspect to the breeze and it wasn’t long before the clouds returned which rather encouraged us to finish off the last kilometre or so of walking.
A short while later we stopped for one of our portable lunches – it was just too good an opportunity to do otherwise.
Despite having a reservation at the hotel, it was firmly shut with no indication as to when it would re-open, while Tourisme, which was also shut, at least advised we should return at 14·00. So we did what we normally do in such cases – beer, coffee and whatever, and then wander around looking at the central part of Blere until at last we could access Tourisme.
We acquired the usual town map and tried to get intelligence as to when the Cheval Blanc would allow us access, which after a long period of trying was determined to be at 15·00. When we did return to find the doors open, we had some difficulty finding anyone that we could treat with. In the end we found a scullery maid or some such busy cleaning mirrors, but she seemed to be sufficiently multi-function to sort us out. We booked for dinner some hours away then did our usual thing with washing and a nap.
Dinner was extraordinary. Here we were in the only hotel we knew of in a small village in rural France and we finished up having by far our best meal in the whole of France – and we had a few good ones elsewhere. Once again, dressed in our best dinner outfits, we descended the stairs to be greeted and waited upon as if we had entered paradise. We took a white wine aperitif whilst deciding that the three course formula would fulfil our culinary desires. Having made that decision a delightful little taste tempter was delivered to each of us comprising a carrot cappuccino, tomato crème broulee and a raisin pate all beautifully presented, with a to die for taste. Our half bottle of premium white arrived at this point, closely followed by entree – salmon roulade with a bisque sauce. Next, after due decorum, was the main course – Max had pigs cheek with buttery pasta on a bed of beautifully presented miniature portions of vegetables while Sue had sea bream with virgin sauce on a tomato coulis and with a similar array of vegetable portions. The vegetables included such delicacies as a single snow pea nested in pea puree with another nested in a parsnip puree. The presentation was nearer a work of art than a menu item. Desert followed – a finely sliced pear on meringue on pear mousse on a bed of chocolate presented with flaked almonds, chocolate peppercorns and surrounded by a dusting of chocolate. Coffee followed with yet another delightful touch in a trio of delicate and very varied pastries to finish off a most wonderful evening. Just when we thought it couldn’t get better it did – which is one of the reasons we went walking in the first place.
The day was notable in that we were within a few metres of the Cher River the whole way with the highest elevation reached being in the middle of the Chenonceau bridge. The walk covered 17 km and took 4h 40m to complete inclusive of extended picture stops and lunch. The day was mostly sunny and cool, at least until we reached Blere, after which it clouded over.
Roadbash Back To The Loire
We awoke to steady rain after a somewhat restless night with various aches and pains from walking (certainly not from eating). The combination of a shortish walk and rain encouraged us to start slowly with the consequence we didn’t even front for breakfast until 07·50, only to find the place still in darkness. Eventually we found the same multi-function person as yesterday, and true to form she turned on the lights and organised breakfast. It seems there was something of a numeric disconnect between the hotel’s French and our Mench which led us to actually turn up early. Such is life in other people’s countries.
We waited until a bit of a break in the rain before heading out toward Amboise on a wholly road bash – there were no GR’s or GRP’s anywhere near where we wanted to go. The first three km or so was through Blere, across the Cher and through the village of La Croix. Using our 1:100,000 TOP map we fortuitously found our way to the minor cross country road that we needed, which climbed gently over the rise that separates the two rivers at this point. The rain came and went a bit, being neither sufficient to warrant full wet gear or slight enough to go without.
Nothing but wet weather road bashing – not our greatest day.
As we travelled north, we found ourselves on progressively busier roads until not far out of Amboise we were walking the edge of an arterial road that was both very busy and decidedly unfriendly to pedestrians. Of course, it would have helped to have looked at the map at this point, but it had become rather waterlogged and was in danger of total collapse.
In the end Sue made an executive decision that a side road, any side road, would be preferable so with difficulty we crossed the arterial and headed downhill through increasing urbanisation. By now the rain had virtually stopped but that didn’t really help our waterlogged condition. In time we came to what looked to be the old town and in fairly short order we found ourselves in the central part, just on the landward side of the Loire levee. We located Tourisme and a Hotel at more or less the same time – not surprising since they were almost next to each other. As an added bonus the hotel was open (since it was not yet midday) and we were able to check in and sort out our bedraggled state.
In due course we went out for a pizza lunch and a slow walk up to Le Clos Luc, the last home of Leonardo da Vinci – even way back a bit of royal patronage was always helpful in enhancing one’s ambitions.
Le Clos Luc was the last home of Leonardo da Vinci – a grand house with a large attractive garden attached.
It was somewhere around this time I discovered that my camera was not behaving normally, presumably a consequence of getting wet during our earlier walk. Pro tem we shared Sue’s camera while we did a tour of Leonardo’s garden and house – really most interesting with working models of a number of Leonardo’s inventions (including full sized replicas scattered around the garden) and good descriptive information about his life and work. In some respects the garden was reminiscent of Giverny, albeit with a rather older world industrial tone than Monet’s property.
In time we retired to the hotel where I made good use of the hair dryer to dry the camera case, and with considerable caution to dry out the camera. A bit of long distance advice from Ben was all that was then needed to get it back to normal working order. Later still we went out looking for dinner, but despite the large number of establishments there did not seem to be much variety in the menus.
In the end we settled for La Reserve – initially being attracted by the Formula, which once again turned out to be lunch only so we turned our attention to a quite passable three course Plat for a tad under 16 Euros each. We shared the salad and pate entree, then had steak and frites (the word fries has all the wrong connotations) with Béarnaise sauce for Sue and Roquefort sauce for Max, then Crème Broulee to finish. Crème Broulee at home is usually in a fairly minimalist pot but in France they sometimes have a different view that results in a much more generous way of serving. Overall, it was a pleasant and welcome end to a rather trying day.
The laneways of Amboise around the time we were looking for somewhere for dinner.
This was the only day that we walked when we had no marked walking tracks at all to follow for any part of our walk – we covered an entirely made up route based on the large scale map. We covered 12 km and took 2h 30m for the journey, helped immeasurably by the rain and lack of track side interest along the route. Although the rain retreated after we reached Amboise, it didn’t really go completely until the next morning, a fact that influenced our next day to a large degree.
We slept reasonably well for a change, but at some early hour I got into a sleepless mind debate as to how we should go from here. The plan said we would go to Vouvray, but that looked too far and maybe Montlouis would be better; maybe we should stop before walking into Tours and do the final bit by train or bus; we could go on or take an extra day in Amboise to make up for the wet day we had just encountered – decisions, decisions. When daylight came it all seemed a lot easier. We would check at Tourisme when they opened at 10·00 to see if Montlouis had any accommodation, otherwise we would either hang back a day or go to Montlouis and get a train (assuming they stop there at all).
We actually went down to breakfast fairly late with the consequence we didn’t check out until 09·00. Being too early for Tourisme we headed for the Royal Chateau to see if they had the flag that flies over the chateau for sale which turned out to be a dud – the French are not good at selling flags although they enthusiastically fly them.
Heading up to the Royal Chateau only to find out that they fly flags, not sell them.
However, we did acquire a new TOP map to replace the borrowed one that had become waterlogged. When Tourisme opened we were there and asked about accommodation at Montlouis. A couple of phone calls didn’t even raise a response so, since there was quite a queue there, we took our leave and said we would come back in an hour. By now we were trending to staying over at Amboise, although far from certain.
To fill in the time we headed for the market which was reported to be on the river side of the levee – as indeed it was, and it was huge. Several hundred metres of stalls in two or three aisles had an amazing array of food, produce, wine, clothing and a whole array of handicrafts and knick knacks. The market may have been smaller than Bastille (in Paris) but had a far more interesting range of stalls.
The markets were over the levee but when we found them, they were quite amazing.
Having got ourselves enjoyably immersed in the market we decided we would stay – so I went back to tell Tourisme not to bother about Montlouis, to acquire a local train timetable and to check back into our hotel. We got the same hotel room that we had just vacated, and we suspect they were half expecting us to return anyway. I also acquired a couple of filled baguettes for lunch, which we later consumed on a pair of ‘love seats’ up on the levee.
The rest of the day was filled in with a wander through the Royal Chateau (including Leonardo’s final resting place in the Chapel) which was early enough in the afternoon to miss most of the crowds, but not too early for a British Jaguar Club car rally, and to do a number of other minor things before retiring for our customary siesta.
Leonaro da Vinci’s last resting place is a chapel in the Royal Chateau grounds.
As might be expected the gardens of the Royal Chateau are something exceptional.
We went out fairly late to a couple of laneway eateries we had noted on our wanderings but when we got there the lane was full of excited cheering people – we had forgotten all about the elections which by then were in the process of being counted. As such we had to find an alternative dining place and at that stage we made a bad choice which resulted in poor food and worse service.
Entry To Tours
A rather spectacular thunderstorm dumped a fair bit of rain during the night but by the time we woke it was looking like a reasonably promising walking day. I had estimated a walk of roughly 12 km to Montlouis to catch a 13·15 train to Tours (one of the very few that stop there), but we left Amboise with a bit of time insurance, giving ourselves 5 hours to complete the walk.
For a change we were following a GR all the way, the same GR3 that we had followed for a short distance out of Cande almost a week earlier. It started off along the levee then turned inland and followed some pleasant rural tracks for quite some way. The tracks were well marked with the GR signs as well as the Compostella de Santiago cockle shell and marker stones ‘DstM’ which we took to be something to do with St Martin, a saintly figure from medieval Tours.
The levee provided our exit route from Amboise.
We came back out on the road network just before the village of Lussault-sur-Loire where we met a Canadian girl pedalling in the opposite direction. We exchanged experiences and advice and learned she had just endured a similar ‘no dinner’ evening at Montlouis to our evening at Pontlevoy. This rather reinforced our view that going straight through to Tours was a good choice.
The day’s walk started off on walking tracks but finished mostly on hard surfaces.
The GR wandered through the village lanes and back roads, following a most convoluted route, which we later worked out took us something like an hour to cover the equivalent of a straight line distance of around 300 metres. The route frequently took the least obvious route and we were saved more than once by the stern warning of a red and white ‘X’.
Walking through the Lussault sur Loire meander – enjoyable but something of a long way round.
By the time we reached the top of the rise after Lussault, where I had estimated we would have covered around 7 km, we had already been on the track for 3 hours and covered closer to 12 km – so much for scaling off the map. The remainder of the walk toward Montlouis was a bit of a trudge on sealed lanes and bike tracks to the town water tower, but from that point on the GR simply got ‘lost’ in urban streets.
The entry into upper Montlouis and the start of ‘find your own route’ to the railway.
We were left to our own devices to find a way down to the river, roughly 50 metres lower and rather disconnected, and to the railway station. In the end we found the station with around half an hour to spare, which allowed time for a quick bite to eat at a rather sleazy place opposite that claimed to be a Pizza Bar. Arrival at the station brought forth advice, via a remote visual and verbal information system, that the train from Blois was 15 minutes ‘retard’, although that turned out to be nearer 30 minutes ‘retard’ by the time it actually arrived – just one of several seriously late trains we encountered in France.
The train journey took only 10 minutes and fortuitously Sue sighted the Etap Hotel beside the rail yards on the way in. So, it was straight off to that hotel to check in and get ourselves established for two nights then go through the usual routine of washing and so on. Sue had a good rest while Max went out and dealt with Tourisme for maps and information about Villandry (Chateau) as well as checking the route bus times and getting a train timetable for Savonnieres, the nearest station to that Chateau. It was not looking promising for the next day with the organised tours only allowing one hour at each of several chateaus, the route bus not running on Tuesdays and the earliest stopping train departing Tours around 13·00. I acquired some portable afternoon tea and returned to the Etap for the remainder of the afternoon.
Considerably later we went out in search of somewhere for dinner, Le Soleil in Rue Colbert turning out to be a good choice. Although we started late and took our time it was still broad daylight when we finished so we meandered back to the hotel via the upper east part of town, finding the extraordinary cathedral as something of a surprise.
The Tours Cathedral Is hard to take in from its fairly enclosed position among a lot of lesser buildings.
Despite its great height, the narrowness and tight cluster of buildings in city streets precludes getting much of a sightline until almost at its front door, which only enhances the impact that it makes. Architecturally it is a bit of a pot pourri, with the twin spires for instance apparently designed by different people and possibly at different times, but there is no doubt that it is a very imposing building. We arrived back at the hotel as the light was finally fading.
Despite my earlier estimate that it would be 12 km the resulting distance was nearer 17 km, which took us 4h and 20m. With hindsight we could have saved time and distance, through Lussault for instance, but that would have missed some of the more enjoyable sections of the day – and in any case we made our train connection quite comfortably. We were very glad we cut the walk back to the outskirts of Tours, since we then had more time and energy to enjoy that city. The day was mostly cloudy and became more humid as the day progressed.
The whole walk from Blois to Montlouis amounted to 90 km and took an elapsed walking time of 22h 10m, quite a speedy journey for slow walkers.
We had a day to do as we liked in Tours, so we slept in to an unusually late hour, not fronting for breakfast until after 09·00. The plan was to go and explore the old medieval city (Vieux Tours) in the morning then get the train to Savonnieres and walk to 4 km or so to Villandry in the afternoon, but like many of our plans that changed.
We set out at around 10·00 via the station and Rue Nationale, which much to my surprise was in the throes of becoming the route of a new north – south tramway. We diverted via St Martin’s Towers – a medieval relic associated with St Martin – and into the delightful narrow lanes that make up this old city heart.
The lanes of old Tours (Vieux Tours) were a delight to wander through.
Place Plumereau, an open square surrounded by 500-year-old buildings was a good place for a morning stop and a decision to forgo Villandry in favour of this enchanting part of Tours.
Place Plumereau was central to old Tours, and a convenient re-hydration stop.
We spent several hours exploring and having a baguette lunch on the banks of the Loire before returning past an ‘Australian Outback Bar’ (closed) and the cathedral, then to the Musee de Beaux Arts. Having taken in their impressive small gardens we went to the entry which seemed shut. After a minute or so the door opened sufficiently to allow a finger to come out and point in no uncertain manner to a sign Ferme Mardi, and then promptly shut again as if to prove the point. The French day curse had struck yet again – no Villandry bus and no Musee. We did the next best thing and wandered back to the hotel for a rest.
During our wanderings we had come across a pleasant looking restaurant in a side lane of old Tours so had made a booking for the evening. At the appropriate hour we set out, in light rain, but rather misjudged the time so had a hydrating ale to fill in time along the way.
L’Atelier Gourmand, a place we found quite by accident, was a very good choice for dinner in Tours.
In due course we fronted up and were greeted as the first arrivals for the night – not having really adjusted to the long daylight and late eating habits of the natives. L’Atelier Gourmand produced a three course formula which looked to be our sort of thing so off we went – gaspatcho (delicate tomato flavours) for both, followed by fish curry then chocolate cumquat terrine (Sue) or lamb shanks then rouge et noir berries and cream (Max). The Swiss couple at the next table were rather taken by the berries and their “we’ll have what he’s having” started a delightful conversation that stretched until we were all thrown out sometime after 22·00 so the restaurant could close. This was one of the few occasions that we walked ‘home’ in the dark. It was only later we discovered that the restaurant was a one hatted establishment. We would agree!
