Cévennes

Notre-Dame-de-la-Rouvière to l’Hospitalet would be a long hike - we had hoped to stay at Aire de Côte which was fully booked. Madame had prepared us a marvelous picnic which was far more than we would need, but we packed it all. We had made coffee the night before so quickly dressed, ate and got on the trail. The initial aim was to climb back up to the trail which was 400 meters (from 574 meters to over 1000 meters) by a rushing river which gradually faded to a stream and then disappeared. At the col we rejoined the trail of the day before. It was a cloudless sunny day with views to the north and occasionally to the south as well. You could see that the chestnut trees (upon which the region had depended for so long) grew on the northern slope while the holm oak, which I think is not deciduous, grew on the southern slopes. The chestnuts were a much brighter green.

The trail meandered along the northern face of the slope and after a while we passed a little telephone tower with a large mas below. Soon we descended a slope where we could hear the bells of sheep and there were several old stone buildings. The shepherd was in a bright red shirt and had his sheep grazing in a green field on the north slope. From that col we had to mount a cobbled old road which had been built along the entire rise - this road was everywhere but was particularly amazing on this slope. We passed several cols and met some of the people we had seen the day before.

We continued on GR 67 to the Col du Pas or Col des Traverses. The trail crossed a small soft green field with white flowers with high rocks on the south side and shortly we arrived at the col where the road crossed the mountain. As we descended to the road we met a crowd of hikers starting out with another woman we had seen the prior day.

From the col the rocky trail mounted for a long time with many switchbacks. There were spectacular views almost straight down to several stone mas farms in the valley. It was hot and steep and we began to tire a little. When we got to the top of this section there was another paved road. The trail was very unclear but a man watering some horses indicated we were only a little off the trail and could rejoin it ahead and he pointed to a hill in the distance.

We were concerned our water was low as we had been told that it was scarce on the high ground we would cover in the afternoon. However, to our delight we came upon Aire de Côte, the gîte which had been full. As we approached we passed a truck that had stopped and people dressed in chef's white coats were setting out a table. One man, obviously mentally handicapped, came over to Bon and looked very closely at her pack - he looked a little threatening but we just said, “Bonjour,” and after an uncertain pause he let us pass. At the gîte we refilled all our water bottles.

We climbed to the trail behind the gîte. This was a steep hill (a familiar pattern) leading to a grassy pine-treed area with a square of rocks where Bon wanted to change to more substantial socks. It was1:00 p.m. and we quickly ate the wonderful brown bread, fromage and jambon with carrots and eggs that the Madame had packed for us. We stopped only about 20 minutes.

After lunch we meandered through piney woods uncertain of the trail. I remembered that Patrick's GPS could also position us with coordinates on the map. Although the small map we were using did not have these coordinates, the next map we would use had the legend in the corner where we were now and I realized that we could tell our approximate position by using the coordinates from this map. As everything looked right we continued on - thanks to the Garmin.

With woods on one side and views to the east we proceeded and after a long stint in the forest the trail descended and then broke out with views of yellow hills and more distant hills beyond. We thought we could see Barre de Cevennes (though this later turned out to be wrong). We descended again to the Col Salides only to climb steeply again up and up - we were very tired. It was also hot but there were refreshing cool breezes blowing up the slope if you walked close to the edge. Below there was a lovely farm and green fields with hills and the yellow broom everywhere.

At the top we came to a field where we saw our first pink hyacinth. The trail was again unclearly marked but we walked on, down a steep slope to a paved road finding a broken sign indicating our destination, l'Hospitalet, was 5 kilometers. Again we had a steep, steep climb which switched back finally reaching the top. Here it leveled out and we saw a watering trough made out of a large log followed by cows with substantial horns. It looked like it had just rained with dark clouds retreating in the distance.

The landscape now changed to limestone fields with thin soil. We were walking on white rocks and the sun was strong; we were both feeling sunburned. I walked in the shade of pine forest next to the road which had rocky views to the west with gray towers of limestone. Finally, the trail turned to the right and we could see l’Hospitalet in the distance. We walked in over limestone fields passing wild narcissus in the fields just before reaching the road where the gîte was to the left. I was ready to drop - we had walked 18.9 miles! With difficulty we found the entrance at the back which led to a stairway of stone (200 years old) and up to a tiled floor modern gîte. Soon the Madame came by and told us dinner would be at huite heures. After a luxurious shower I rested until dinner while Bon talked to a pleasant woman who knew the region.

At dinner we were joined by three male mountain bikers and people who seemed to be family of the Madame. Dinner was beets and tomatoes with a cold sliced pig sausage, followed by pork balls, carrots and rice with a bottle of red wine. Then cheese and finally a nice dessert of flan, meringue and what was either burnt sugar or maple syrup. The Madame was a striking lady about our age with strong hands. She talked very fast to the bikers (who talked not at all to us). At the other table was the extended family. The tall lanky silent husband of the garrulous Madame only appeared in the shadows of other side of the dining room dressed in his beret. He later went out through the hall with his two dogs.

Bon and I walked out by some rocks - there had been another shower - where there was a plaque indicating this was where a band of Camisards, Protestants rebelling against Louis XIV, had met. We walked out along the road seeing fields of narcissi and hearing the cuckoo in the distance. Then back to bed about 10:00 p.m. and a pretty good sleep in the double-decker bunks of the “dortoire” in spite of the snoring of one of the bikers.