I have just returned from a long walk with friends in the Corbières region of the Aude, a journey guided by a botanist to witness, among other things, the richness of the Spring flowers that bloom in this wild and relatively pristine area of the department.
Bordered to the north and west by the river Aude, the river Algy to the south and the Mediterranean to the east, the Corbières is a complex mountainous area with many different habitats, and thus of great interest to naturalists.
Although there are a number of small roads winding through its hills and valleys, the best way to experience it is on foot, so to lighten the load of equipment we were lent two donkeys, Blondin and Birdy. The pair were patiently waiting for us on the first morning with typical donkey stoicism.
I took a stock of carrots as a bribe, as they would be carrying the dog’s food as well as mine.
Soon loaded, the group of humans, two dogs and donkeys set off in fine sunshine from the foot of the Bugarach mountain.
It is an impressive mountain, with an extensive cave system, standing apart from the distant Pyrenean range, and indeed has the younger rock strata under the older, not however from miraculous extraterrestrial intervention but by an unusual collision between the Iberian and Eurasian tectonic plates many millions of years ago.
Donkeys plod along at their own pace, and we had plenty of time to stop and admire the vast array of wildflowers we came across.
Ben the botanist was a wealth of information, giving clues as to how to recognise different species and giving their Latin names. Some of us kept notes, others just admired the variety – me included. When you know that there are probably 96 species of orchid alone in the Aude, retaining the information can be a little overwhelming.
Various events had been planned along the way, including being shown a restored kiln that was used to produce artisanal glass objects before the British industrial revolution made mass production of glass easy and cheap. The talk bought home to me just how complex the rural societies were in former years, with various interlocking activities.
Nearby there was salt production from a saline stream, which was controlled by a barrack of guards so the smuggling of salt could be stopped and due tax paid to the local lord. All these activities needed fuel, and we were shown the vestiges of the charcoal kilns.
That evening there was a torrential storm, and we arrived soaked at the forest building to take shelter for the night. Having dried out in the morning we set off with our donkeys on the next stage. Walking through the forest we came across a stream, and there the reluctance of donkeys to cross water appeared, and their stubbornness with it.
Unlike Robert Louis Stevenson (Travels with a donkey in the Cévennes) we were reluctant to resort to the use of sticks and goads, and so one of the beasts had to be taken back by a longer road route.
The day was a good trek, and the younger dog grew tired, and had to be carried up a long slope by his owner, Ben the botanist. An extra 15 kilos...
A botanist's dream
Numerous were the fascinating stops to look at the details of the flowering plants.
Butcher's BroomJonathan Kemp
Above you can see Butcher’s Broom (Le Fragon petit-houx), with Ben pointing out the tiny flowers that grow directly on the ‘leaves’ (actually modified stems) of the plant. Nature never ceases to amaze in the complex stratagems that have developed in the struggle for survival.
It was not only flowers that drew us. We would occasionally find an insect that fascinated, hear a bird that was unusual, including the bubbling trill of a female cuckoo replying to an insistent nearby male, of which there are many in April.
The last day of the week’s walk brought us back to the starting point, the Bugarach village; but first we aimed to climb the mountain itself, the Pic de Bugarach. There are several ways to scale the slopes; the main group arriving from the south east by a tricky route that follows the ridges approaching the mountain.
The Pic de Bugarach is the highest peak in the Corbières mountain rangeNiall F/Shutterstock
I had absented myself from the main group for a couple of days, and approached from the west by a route known as the Chemin de la Fenêtre, the Window, so-named because there is a small hole near the top that you can crawl through to round a corner and reach the scree slopes that are the final pitches of the mountain. It is also possible to see in this image the forms that also give rise to another legend of this singular mountain.
Two elves, Bug and Arach, were posted to help protect the fertile valleys of the Aude below from the threats of dragons, snakes and harrowing winds known as the Cers (Roman god of storms) coming from the north and west which formerly ravaged the crops and houses of the people below. Even today, this wind is known by the name of the Cers.
From the top I watched the group climbing the slopes, and finally a rendez-vous was made. Tired but happy the summit photo was taken, and a gentler descent was made down to the village below to drink a well-earned beer and disperse to our various homes, and the comfort of our own beds...
Many thanks to Ben and Manon of the Federation Aude Claire for organising this fascinating trip, the wealth of botanical and other information they and others provided, and the stoicism of the two donkeys as they played their traditional role of beasts of burden.
If you wish to find out about these and other events proposed by the association, visit the website.
