Italy to Santiago II Part 1: Via Domitia Day 28 Peyruis - Lurs

 J'abonde dans l'instant

(I immerse myself in the instant)

- Maximilien Vox (1894 - 1974)

I had not yet come to the centre of Peyruis when I came to Halte en Provence, and it was so cosy I halted there for the rest of the afternoon. Rather than go out again, I dined on some leftovers from lunch and part of the picnic Sylvie had packed for me in Peipin, then went to bed and made an attempt at reading - though I was asleep by nine! Of course having set the clocks back it was actually ten...

Up at 6:30, I ignored the fancy espresso machine and made real coffee with a proper Italian mocha pot. I ate a third of the baguette that the landlady had provided for me, toasted, with butter and jam; then made a sandwich with another third of the baguette and Sylvie's cheese. The final third will be my lunch tomorrow, with tuna - unless I unexpectedly find something better along the way!

Then I headed out through the town centre, where all the businesses were still shut but I took plenty of photos.

I passed by the chapel of Saint-Roch, patron saint of pilgrims, and then climbed up a hill behind the town on a forest path. The vegetation was much the same as at home: oak and holm oak, with the occasional pine tree, and similar undergrowth, including the plant known in Italian as pungitopo for its sharp, pointed leaves, which people used to put around cheese to protect it from mice. But here, the undergrowth also includes rosemary, thyme, marjoram and mint - all growing wild. I can see why people speak of "Provençal herbs"!

What goes up must come down, and frequently does, on the GR trails of France: the climb up to the top of the hill above the valley of the Durance was followed by a descent to cross a stream. Including a short but very steep segment, on loose earth: I'm getting used to these now and have mastered my approach. Don't look at the whole descent at once, but take it one step at a time; brace yourself with your poles; look for a firm foothold such as a tree root, a plant or a rock. Keep your centre of gravity low, and if all else fails, crawl, or slide on your rear end! 😅

At the bottom of the descent, the trail crossed the stream on a canal bridge. There was a sign saying not to, but the trail clearly went over the bridge, and there was a wide enough walkway with a handrail to hold onto, so over I went! I only stopped to take a photograph once I was over the other side. 

The trail then climbed up the other side - what goes down must go up, is also true of the GR trails of France! This was the biggest climb of the day, to the village of Ganagobie, then around the far side of the hill and up to the abbey of the same name. 

If Peipin and Peyruis sound like hobbit villages, Ganagobie sounds like it ought to be inhabited by goblins! But in actual fact the village was very welcoming - with a bench in the sunshine, a drinking fountain and a perfectly clean public toilet right in front of the Mairie. Even the smallest villages in France have a Mairie, and it often has other public facilities and services attached to it - most often a library, frequently a salle des fêtes or party room, in some cases a hostel such as the one I am sitting in right now. But I'm getting ahead of myself!

I moved on up to the Abbaye de Ganagobie, arriving at eleven. I was too early for the noon prayers, but the church was open and I took a look inside. Ganagobie was built in the 9th or 10th century as a Cluniac abbey, though it is now home to a Benedictine community. I could have stayed there, as a pilgrim, but it would've been too far to walk yesterday, and today - well, it was only eleven, and I had only walked six kilometres! The abbey shop is closed on Mondays, so I carried on my way, heading - guess what? - steeply down into the valley again. 

The trail criss-crossed the road, straight down the slope, avoiding all the long switchbacks that motor vehicles have to make to get up and down hills. At the bottom, the road crossed a Roman bridge, presumed to be part of the original Via Domitia, though it must have been rebuilt and reinforced over the centuries. 

Then began the final ascent of the day, a gentle but steady climb on a winding dirt road through the woods, presumably a forest service road. Just when the dirt road was beginning to be a bit of a bore, the GR route left it to follow a footpath through a beautiful wood, often lined with moss-covered stone walls. There were several waymarked paths leading to Lurs; I stuck with the one marked GR 653D, which followed the edge of the ridge, with stunning views over the valley. I sat down at the edge of a grassy field a couple of kilometres outside Lurs to eat my cheese sandwich, packet of crisps and apple. 

The path into Lurs turned into the Promenade des Evêques, with the stations of the cross, which I walked in reverse, starting at the chapel and walking down to the village. And what a village! I came in at the top end, by the ruins of the fortess, where I could hear restoration work going on. Then I passed between beautiful stone houses, two art galleries, an amphitheatre and a church - also undergoing restoration work. 

My accommodation, the gîte communal, was at the far end of town, right behind the Mairie and the library, in the former seminary building. I had the code to help myself to the keys out of the keybox, so I let myself in and made myself at home. I changed my shoes and went around the corner to the library, to say hello to Servas member Michel, who could have hosted me, but was busy volunteering in the library all afternoon and then at a meeting until eight. So he suggested I might be better off staying at the municipal gîte! But Michel took me to see his house - which was a ruin when he and his wife bought it and which they have been lovingly restoring over the past decade. It's huge! I guess I could have stayed there without getting in the way of the people at the meeting 😅. In any case, Michel invited me to come over for dinner at eight - which is a good thing, seeing as the only two restaurants in town are closed for the winter, so I would be eating soup out of an instant soup mix packet if he hadn't!

The view from Michel's patio

His jewellery-making workshop

On the way back to the library and the hostel, Michel told me about Maximilien Vox, a writer, cartoonist, illustrator, publisher, journalist, critic, art theorist and historian of French letters and typography who lived in Lurs from 1952 until his death in 1974. He established the Rencontres internationales de Lure, an annual festival of writing and typography held in the village (but named after the nearby mountain, Lure, rather than the village, Lurs, because of its association with a horrible crime that took place nearby in 1952).

The Rencontres internationales de Lure have set up an installation just outside the village evoking the history of writing: the Chemin des écritures. 

This last installation, the Bibliothèque, evokes the various supports that have been used for writing over the centuries, from parchment and stone to blackboards and paper. Beside the installations is a bench where I sat in the sunshine for a while, starting to write up this entry. Then I went back to the hostel, where I met the town's young mayor, Romain Buisson, who is very enthusiastic about the municipal hostel and is in fact running it himself. He said he had made some improvements and more than doubled the number of overnight visitors since he has been in office. And in fact he brought a couple more with him: two of the workers working on the construction projects in town, who will be staying in the room next to mine. The hostel is in fact not for pilgrims only, but open to all. I hope they don't snore! 😂

Peyruis - Lurs 16.5 km