Quillan--A Foothills Crossroads

Aude  Quillan looking upriver

Quillan from the Chateau

This past Friday I went with my friend Shelley and her school days chum, Wendy, to the little town on Quillan, almost due south of Carcassonne.  Quillan lies at the foothills of the Pyrenees and gives visitors a glimpse of the mountain range to come if you continue on a southern trajectory. 

Shelley and Wendy on arrival

Magnificent arbor--grape and wisteria and something else I can't identify

We took the 1 Euro bus.  It used to be the 1 Euro train, but after much controversy, SNCF has done away with the train service and now puts passengers into autocars--big red buses that run from Limoux to Quillan.  The route winds through several other hamlets--Alet-les-Bains, Couiza, Esperaza before coming to its final destination in Quillan.  It's odd to think of Quillan as a crossroads, but it kind of is--from there, you can get a 1 Euro bus to Perpignan.  I gather that this used to be the main route between Carcassonne and Perpignan, until newer and faster roads via Narbonne made it obsolete.  One day in the near future, I am going to take that bus from Quillan to Perpignan, just to see where it goes.  There is some SPECTCULAR scenery along that way, I am sure.

Aude bridge and Chateau from the main square

Quillan has been a strategic point for a long time, even if it's importance these days is marginal. It used to be THE place--and I read or heard somewhere, THE ONLY place where Formica was made!  One might think that the remnants of the factory would be somewhere in evidence, but I have not yet found them.  Of more interest to me is the role that Quillan played in the Resistance during WWII.  It's hard to get much information, because NOBODY talks about those times, but Quillan was a gateway to the Pyrenees escape route for people fleeing the Germans, especially downed airmen or escaped soldiers trying to make their way into Spanish safety.  There was a lot of Maquis activity around here in the early 1940's.   I know that there are some markers to note activity, but I have a feeling I need a car to find them.  I will keep looking.

Our lunch spot

Sundial?  Go to sleep?

Quillan was also the source of logs--rafters would tie them together, and they'd float from Quillan down to Carcassonne, where the logs would be processed or hauled overland to places like Toulouse.  These radeliers, rafters, used gaffs to poke and prod the logs into submission.  (Boaters still use them to pick up mooring lines) There's a street in the Trivalle district named in honor of these rafters--Rue de la Gaffe.  They'd use this street as a shortcut, their gaffs on their shoulders, as they made their way from the river to the Chapeau Rouge on Rue Trivalle for some R & R after a hard and probably quite dangerous trip down the river.

Aude--notice the rafting marker poles?

Aude looking downriver toward Carcassonne

At this time, there seems to be some ex-pat money here, and tourism, especially rafting and hiking provide some money into the local coffers. 

Up to the chateau

After the first hairpin turn---imagine a front door covered in honeysuckle!!!

Our day was a little muggy, and it in fact rained on our arrival.  Funny, no weather forecast had predicted THAT, and of course not one of us had an umbrella.  No matter--the train station is not far from the Place de la Republique, the main square where most of the restaurants are located.  I think every small town in France has a Place de le Republique (as well as a spot named after DeGaulle).  This town square borders the Aude River--yes the same Aude River as in Carcassonne--only here, it's full of rapids, and loud!  

New marker of ancient grain silo

Quillan has been a coveted spot for thousands of years

We headed for shelter and lunch.  We ate on the square, inside at the Cafe du Fleuve.  For 13 euros each, we had lunch and a glass of Cremat de Limous, the local bubbly.  I ordered one of the plats du jour--specials of the day--daube de taureau--bull stew.  Delicious!!  shelley and Wendy had backed goat cheese salad and lasagna, respectively.  I tasted the lasagna; it was wonderful.  You can't always tell what the food is going to taste like based on the way the restaurant is decked out.  \This one was plain--noth9ng at all fancy, and the prices were extremely reasonable.  The food was superb.  

Shelley stops for a quick sketch

It stopped raining while we were having lunch, so after finishing up, we decided to climb up to the ruins of the chateau.  It s a short, steep little climb.  The last time I did this was in the winter of 2013-14.  How different it looked with all the lush greenery and numerous flowers in bloom.  Maybe because of the rain we've had, the poppies this year are spectacular.  I wish I knew the names of all the plants and flowers that I saw.  Mostly I wish someone could invent a device that not only could capture photos and sound, but could capture and record aroma as well.....there was one little white wild rose that stopped me in my tracks,  The hillsides are covered with what looks from a distance to be broom, but I am not positive.  It has a lovely scent, and certainly the color is full of promise.

Thsse are growing out of the stones of the bridge

Poppies and other wildflowers

This is the fragrant wild white rose that stopped me in my tracks

Roses red and white top a fence on the way up the hill

This fragrant yellow flowered bush is everywhere

Up close

Poppies against the grey stones

We poked around inside the ruins--very little has been done to restore it aside from some shoring up of potentially dangerous places.  I think of this as being someone's home.  Was it dark?  Was it cold?  What were all the rooms used for?  How did people keep warm in the winter--they get SNOW up here?  

Hiking path the Quillan's balcony--next trip

Or for longer jaunts

We came back down to the river and walked along the chateau side up to the next bridge.  I fell under the spell of narrow townhouses. barely one window wide.  Some of their back yards end at the river bank.  It's probably not the safest arrangement for young children, and I suppose the threat of flooding is never far from your mind, but oh what a great spot!  I wonder all the time about these homes built right along the river banks and I guess people just get used to being flooded out every 250 years.  It seems like an odd place to site a town, but rivers were the way one got around, so maybe it does make sense.

Wendy

Shelley coming through the iron gate

Shelley pointed out the poles in the flow of the rapids, used to mark the path for kayaks or other boats trying to get through this fast water.  These markers,  either green and white or red and white, hang suspended from wires strung across the river and can be moved sideways to show those coming through where the safest course is.  I suspect it's something like "Red Right Returning"--the way channel markers show boaters the channels in and out of harbors.  It would be interesting to see people navigating these little bits of white water.  Fun and refreshing on a hot summer's day, no doubt.

Guide poles in the river

Love these narrow houses, especially along the river

We poked around town for a bit, and I always marvel at how deserted these towns seem to be.  Do people live there year round, I wonder?  Most of the places are shuttered and buttoned up.  Where are all the people?  There were many places for sale in the town's center and new housing developments shine in the outskirts.   

I guess it's not THAT remote after all.

Graceful old stone bridge parallels the river

The Chemin de Saint Jacques de Compostelle is NOT this way....First time I have ever seen this blaze

The Little Yellow Train Part 2

Rain-spattered window

It  seemed for a while that our train wouldn't be crowded but then a large tour group from the UK showed up.  We all found seats, though, and I was able to get one by one of the un-graffiti-covered windows.  It would have been nice to be in an open car, but the weather really was not good for that--it did rain, lightly at first and then harder the higher we went.

A slide is a slide is a slide

Local village church

The scenery reminded me for all the world of the drive through the "canyon"  back in Oregon.  It was the same sort of rugged terrain, and we followed the course of the rivers, but the vegetation was different.  I recognized that reinforced sort of chicken wire netting used to keep the rocks from falling on objects below.  The ride was jerkier than I expected.  That, as well as the glare and window reflections, and simply being in a moving train made photos nearly impossible for me.  Maybe a better photographer would have had better luck. 

Mountain chalets, not terra cotta roofed stucco

Fields of dandelions

Who? Why?  How?

I have to confess that the biggest frustration for me was seeing towns, and ruins and not having any way of finding out their names or what they are.  A little map, perhaps, with labels of the landmarks we were passing would have been beyond helpful.  Again, I don't want to complain, but it is supposed to be a tourist train.  There were no announcements of "Next stop----" like you get on buses and trains in the SNCF and municipal systems. I had hundreds of questions buzzing around in my head...who lives here?  why?  What are these flowers?  How does a person get up to that house clinging to a cliff side?

Compelling view

There is a reason the roof line is so steep

We made a couple of stops--even though there are  20+ stations, but only 3 or 4 are regularly serviced; all the others have to be asked for in advance.  The biggest stop was Mont Louis, the outpost that knocked Carcassonne out of the prime spot as the main border fortress once the new border with Spain was negotiated in the 17th century.  The UK tourists got off here. 

High valley colors

I stayed on to the end of our trip at Font Romeu--a high mountain valley in between these two stops. 

Trees waiting for leaves

I could see condos in the distance, which told me there were ski runs nearby.  The climate is noticeably different here--the vegetation was a good 5 weeks behind that of home, and even further down the Tet Valley.  The fields were carpeted with daffodils, not poppies, and what were wither snowdrops or very small white narcissus flowers.  Up here, in this valley, I could understand life--it'\s farming.  Some  very contented looking light brown cows were already enjoying what I assume is their summer pasturage.  Lots of horses, too and plenty of mud.  I forget, in the romance of farming, just how muddy things get.  Fences needed mending, probably damaged by winter snows and I imagine that fence-line repair is an annual springtime chore.  

Not a bad spot to wait for a train in nice weather

And overlooking it all are several huge, dark=blue snow spattered peaks.  So many homes had porches or patios facing these mountains--what a view!  Lovely in any season that's not winter! I did have to put on the winter fleece jacked I had brought; my sweater alone over my blouse was not enough.

We spent only a few minutes--long enough for a bathroom break and to poke around the tourist brochures in the train station, and to take a little time to stretch our legs.  Then the train simply reversed direction and headed back the way it had come.  Most of us had given up trying to see out the windows or take photos, and I include myself in their number.  It was simply too jerky for me to get good photos, or even good snapshots.

Once back in Villefranche de Conflent, I saw a sign posted on the door saying that the train had been sold out.  I was lucky to have gotten my ticket when I did.  The bus connection back to Perpignan was right on time--just enough time between arrival of the train and departure of the bus for a little stretch.  The bus back had maybe only five or six people on it, but I was able to enjoy the trip more than I had enjoyed the one going.  I had no time constraints, and I knew where I was going and about how long it would take.  

A supporter

I was able to get really good views of Canigou from Prades.  It's a mythical mountain in the chain, and I was glad to finally be able to identify it.  There is a festival there in a couple of weeks to bring the flame back to the mountain, accompanied by donkeys and troubadours....it sounds very interesting.  

I got back to Perpignan at the expected time, ready for my hotel and dinner.  I had booked a room at the Nyx, which is a 2 minute walk from the train station on a street that reminds me so much of Las Ramblas in Barcelona.  After getting installed, I took one of the recommendations of that woman at the reception desk and had a great Italian meal, and got a little buzzed on one glass of rose.  (That is what comes of not drinking, I guess)  I can't say enough good things about that hotel--the room and the help I got from the staff, as well as the conversation, were exceptional.  

A very polite strike demonstration

The next day, a strike day, I had tickets for the 2:50 TGV from Barcelona., so I had some time to explore Perpignan old town.  What an interesting place; and I am planning a return trip for the sole purpose of exploring without dragging around baggage, in cooler weather.  I did not have proper clothes with me this trip; I had dressed for mountain chill, not 90 degree heat.  

Absolutely deserted train station in Perpignan

There was a demonstration of the rail workers in front of the station--all very respectful and civilized.  I have never seen Perpignan train station with not a train in sight in either direction--it was really weird.   For lunch I had a delicious salad-- maybe one of the best I have ever had--with regional products like dry and regular ham, olives, cheeses.  

The TGV was precisely on time, I boarded, found my seat and headed back to Narbonne, where I would transfer to come home.  I wasn't concerned, even with the strike, because I figured I would be getting in early enough to get some form of transport back to Carcassonne.  Indeed, my scheduled train had been canceled, although I never received notification from SNCF.  I was able to use my ticket for the bus that brought me back home, even though it turned what  is normally a 30 minute journey into a near-ordeal lasting 90 minutes.  

I was happy to be home but ever so glad to have discovered a new part of 'France.  I am totally smitten with this Pyrenees-Orientales region and cannot wait to return.

The Little Yellow Train--Part I

They still have the snowplow on this one

It is very yellow.  It is very little.  I have been wanting to ride on it ever since I learned about it, maybe 2 years ago.  I had a small window of opportunity to take this historic ride, due to my own commitments, upcoming summer season schedule changes, and the SNCF (French Railway) strikes.   They've been striking since April--two days of strike, then three of service and then two days of strike.....it\'s a little bit of a pain.  I carefully planned out my route--and found that I  could indeed leave home, take the trip and return the same day.  It would mean a long day, but it was possible.

I leave home as the sun is making an appearance

Then, the fun began. Even though Tuesday was not technically a strike day, my train home from Perpignan was canceled.  I actually was half expecting this, because strike days often include the last trains out on the eve of the strike. I have had that happen before, mostly to visitors here. (Right Diane and Jerry?  Right Andrew?) So, I quickly scurried, changed my return ticket to the next day and scoured up a hotel room in Perpignan.  I could come home on Wednesday, hopefully in the morning.  

Poppies,galore, often entire fields are carpeted in red

And so, I set off---early on Tuesday morning (a 6:45 train to Narbonne, with a change there to Perpignan.  Once in Perpignan, I would take a 1 Euro regional train to Villefranche de Conflent, the "lower station for the Little Yellow Train." Everything is fully green, and the poppies this year have been magnificent.  Entire fields are covered with red poppy carpets.  

In Perpignan, I hit the first snag.  The train to Villefranche de Conflent wasn't running, but a subhstitute bus would ferry me there.  That was fine with me--I actually kind of like riding the bus.  The problem was that the bus takes longer than does the train, so I missed the first little yellow train, the one I wanted, It is the longer of the routes, going all the way to Latour Carol--the "upper" end-of- the-line station."  I had to settle for a shorter trip, going only as far as Font Romeu.  That's okay and certainly would give me the views I was looking for.

Fort Liberia

Bridge over the Tet, looking upstream

Yep, this is the station for the Yellow Train

 

I subsequently learned, by reading an article that appeared in Wednesday's L'Independant, the local newspaper, that the train I was supposed to take has been out of circulation since December, (and yet still shows up on the timetable, grrr) when there was a horrific accident along the route in Millas, in which the train plowed into a school bus at one of the many at-grade crossings, killing some students, and injuring many others.  The article told that many of the parents have banded together to form an association that is calling for the permanent closure of the line.  As it might be expected, the plan is causing a lot of controversy.  

The Tet, looking downstream

Honey locust blooms (I think) and the Tet dances below

This 1 Euro bus took me through some "suburbs" of Perpignan and then through other towns and villages I had read about in the book Love and War in the Pyrenees.  I am now smitten with Prades, nestled under the watchful eye of Canigou, perhaps the most well-known peak of the mountain chain.  It still has snow on it.  I also fell in love with Ille sur Tet, and Vinca, all of which lie along the Tet River, which is beautiful, especially further up in the mountains, where it runs swift and clear.  There really wasn't a sense of climbing, yet we went from Perpignan, which borders the Mediterranean to Villefranche de  Conflent, at an altitude of about 1000 feet, if you don't count the massive Fort Liberia that looms over it another 1000 feet up.

Fort Liberia

High lookout

Notice some black clouds gathering

The bonus was that I got to explore Villefranche de Conflent and I was immediately smitten.  It has been designated one of the "Most Beautiful Villages in France," and with good reason.  The town is inside a fort--lots of restaurants and some shops.  Everything was immaculate--the streets, the buildings all in great repair, flower boxes sprouting iconic red geraniums, the mountains rising in the background.  It sits on the point of land where the Cady River meets the Tet River, both of which were running swift and clear.  I love that many of the buildings make use of the pinky-orange rock that looks like the exposed rock of the surrounding hills, so there's an organic look to much of the area. 

The town is enclosed by this fort--Tet River on the right

Immaculately cared for streets and buildings

The Cady (on the right)  joins the Tet

I poked around the town for a bit, made a stop in the Tourist Information Office where I asked for lodging information--I had by this time already decided to do this again, but to spend the night here.  I had a late breakfast/early lunch that included one of the best cups of coffee I have ever had.  I treated myself to a local Catalan specialty--bunyette (pronounced boon-yet)--I guess every culture has some version of fried dough, and I don't normally indulge, but I wanted to see what it was like--light, flaky and not too sweet.  

Love these red geraniums

This B & B features local honey

Lots of brick, reminiscent of Toulouse

The weather was threatening--I had seem some dark, ominous clouds massing over the mountains, so after lunch I hightailed it back to the station to get under cover....and just managed to do so before he heavens opened up.  But it was just a local shower and didn't last long.

The mountains tower over the town

Narrow passageways and secret doorways

Portcullis

This one means business!

What??!!  No French???

My local regional specialty--bunyette

It looked for a while like the train was going to be nearly empty, but soon enough a group of older tourists from the UK arrived, butting up in line and making a lot of noise.  Most of the seats were marked reserved, so I was fortunate to snag a ticket.  I think there's a Little |Yellow Train ticket office in the Perpignan station, but I confess to not taking the time to find it when I had the time on Wednesday.  I will do so on my next trip there, which will be sooner rather than later.  

I do not want to complain, really, I don't.  But why would a train that bills itself as a tourist, sight-seeing vehicle put people in train cars that have the windows so covered in graffiti that it is impossible to see what's outside unless you stand the whole trip?  I just do not understand this.....I would have washed the windows for them while I waited if I could have gotten away with it.

How is a sight-seer supposed to actually see out of this window?

Due to the weather (and thankfully, as it did rain along the journey) we were all inside.  During more clement weather, you can sit on benches in open cars.  I want to do that, I think.

We boarded, got our seats, and when the conductor blew a sharp blast on his whistle, the passengers all let out a cheer..  The train has one of those "toy" whistles, like some tugboats, and the conductor made liberal use of it.  After a toot or two, off we set.