On Saturday, I opted in to the regular Saturday afternoon walk with the Haute Vallee Randonnee walking club, thinking the scheduled route to Belvianes and back, largely on the flat, would be a good way to ease back into hill walking in the Pyrenees.
A half day walk was a welcome start too as on the Friday night, at short notice, I’d been delighted to be invited to participate in the annual end-of-year club-organised potluck (auberge espagnole) Christmas dinner. A casual affair, everyone brings a contribution, along with their own crockery and cutlery. Drinks are provided. Being French, of course, things are taken seriously, even if it is informal – aperitif was laid out separately with accompanying wines, followed by main course and finally, cheese boards and a dessert table, complemented by the local sparkling wine, blanquette de Limoux. By the time we staggered out of there mid-evening, full of food and good conversation, we all agreed we had eaten well – possibly too well – so stretching legs the next afternoon to walk it off, was welcome.
Once everyone had gathered at the gare de Quillan (no longer a working railway station since the line was closed), we headed out of town over the Pont Suzanne on the main track in the direction of Belvianes, initially skirting the Aude, passing by well-kept allotments, the river still high with water after the recent rains. This much was familiar territory, being a well-trodden path from our earlier times renting in Quillan.
Coming into the small village of Cavirac, we pass a sophisticated (five star?) insect hotel, and an area of the verge dedicated to the planting of flowers to help protect the bee population. There’s a strong sense of nature in this area, which is understandable when living in such surroundings and feeling the force of nature (and being at its mercy) on a daily basis.
The highlight of the walk was the unexpected opportunity to enter the former railway tunnel, long defunct (sometime around the second world war), and usually out of bounds. Following our guide, those of us with iphones turned our torches on and walked the short stretch over stony ground to an exit window 500 metres down the track.
There we climbed out and scrambled up the bank for a spectacular close-up view of the Devil’s staircase and the defile due Pierre Lys. This is something I’d long been hoping to do, so I was delighted. One day it would be great to go further, but that would probably require hard hats and certainly better torches!
Back at Cavirac we take a moment to pop in to the local church. The Christmas tree has been decorated in the time of our passing by. Now it is festooned with paper-wrapped parcels and tinsel. As with so many villages, the church key is held by a neighbouring villager. There are always treasures to be discovered, even in the smallest and most isolated of churches.
Emerging back out into the sunlight we headed back the way we came and I think most of us, myself included, were anticipating a nice flat riverside stroll back to town, with time for chatting. Not so! A mere kilometre or less out of Cavirac, our guide steered us up hill on trails that follow the contours of the hills below the ‘three Quills’ of Quillan name and renown, up hill and down dale on narrow tracks, strewn with shale, tree roots and leaf litter. It was hard going for many in the group and not so much the ‘ease back in’ that I was thinking of.
These are trails that form part of the network for the Trail Quillan that Stephen is running in late March. The route takes enough concentration to cover at walking speed so I can’t imagine covering this territory in the half light at speed. Great country though, and a great variety of terrain. The local trails here are impressive and are only so well maintained thanks to the many hours of volunteer time provided by locals – including several in our club. The signage is also excellent. A recent local initiative has seen a set of trails signed and marked and detailed in leaflets available from the tourist office.
The latter part of the walk is through peaceful and cooling pine forest, a welcome relief for the ankles.
Finally we head home, with Quillan constantly in sight, past the last remaining vineyard in town. It’s a beautiful spot, well maintained. One of the walking party has been helping with the vendanges. This is fascinating, and likely a good story. I must find out more.
I’m glad to be back into the swing of things, and already looking forward to the next one – hopefully next Saturday.
