See the Cevennes Again and Again

Which other region offers travelers so much natural beauty, so many lessons from history, and so many chances for peace? - André Chamson

L'Etoile We depart from La Bastide-Puylaurent, perched at an altitude of 1016 meters, with our starting point established at the guesthouse L'Étoile. Philippe Papadimitriou always extends a warm welcome here. The small town, peaceful on the banks of the Allier, slowly fades as we follow the markers of GR®7 and GR®72. To the east, these trails will lead us toward the abbey of Notre-Dame des Neiges, but we choose to bypass it for now, preferring to save this discovery for our return. We quickly leave the white and red markers to climb to the summit of Felgère at 1225 meters. From up there, the panorama opens up towards Luc, our next destination, while the relief of the upcoming stages reveals itself. Captivating perspectives await us.

Our forest route heads east, almost following the ridge to a true crossroads of trails. A new view allows us to glimpse the last stages through the relief of the Ardèche mountains, promising both intense efforts and many pleasures. We now take the Tour du Tanargue, following the yellow and red markers. This path continues to wind beneath the beeches of Moure de Manibles before descending towards Laveyrune. We cross paths with GR®70, the Stevenson Way, which we follow backward to our stop.

Cheylard-l'Évêque A short asphalt section takes us through the village and along the D.906, winding along the banks of the Allier. We quickly leave the road to climb towards Luc, a small village clinging to the valley slope. The place is charming: a beautiful Romanesque church stands in the heart of the hamlet, while the ruins of a medieval castle dominate the hill, topped by an imposing statue of the Virgin Mary. It is here that we take a well-deserved break on the sunny terrace overlooking the Allier.

After a reviving meal, we enjoy a tranquil digestion in the peace of the Gardille forest, by the edge of a charming little lake. We brush past Les Pradels, while dark clouds gather on the horizon, then we cross the deep valley of Langouyrou, where a quick descent towards the stream is followed by a steep climb to reach the last hill. We arrive at the picturesque village of Cheylard-l'Évêque.

As light mists float over the ridges of the hills, a still timid sun appears, dispelling the memories of the storm from the day before. Can one really tire of these morning departures, imbued with freshness and promise? We set off, light-hearted, eager for landscapes…

This stage announces a long forest hike through the Moure de la Gardille and the Montagne du Goulet. Many elevation changes and vast horizons await us.

We start with a pleasant and gentle ascent through the vast Mercoire forest. The path, from the Valley and the Gorges of the Allier, is discreet, but the itinerary is clear to reach the heather moor that surrounds the Moure de la Gardille, the highest point at 1503 meters. This summit is adjacent to the sources of the Allier and Chassezac, resembling a natural water tower. We join GR®7, whose markers will guide us to the next stage.

Now, a long descent allows us to cross the wide plain bordering the Chassezac. Just after Les Chazeaux, the big part of the day looms: the ascent to the mountain of Goulet. This final climb is steep, but it brings us to the summit (1497 m), where we enjoy a moment of tranquility in the heart of the forest. After a busy morning, the afternoon offers us a peaceful stroll on the southern slope of the Goulet. We gently descend through the underbrush as September already begins its work on the epilobes. Before us stands the Lozère massif, our playground for the coming days. Today, we descend towards the still fresh Valley of Lot to reach Bleymard.

Many regions remain unexplored, many paths unknown. Yet, I never tire of wandering through the Massif Central, returning to the wild spaces of Mont Lozère, exploring the drailles and paths that wind through the Cévennes hills.

This corner of France preserves its identity, its austere soul. Resistance, is that not the very nature of the Cévenols? A centuries-old struggle to shape this ungrateful land and survive; fierce resistance against the dragons of Louis XV, the Nazi occupier, and the uniformity of modernism. André Chamson, in The Spirit of the Cévennes, perhaps enlightens us: more than the beauties of nature and the lessons of history, what is offered to us in these valleys and hills, on these slopes and summits, is a quality of silence, a chance for peace that is almost impossible to find in today’s world. The spirit of the Cévennes is perhaps the conquest of an inner serenity through the tumult of nature and history.

I feel a deep attachment to the arid highlands of the Causses and those surrounding the Mont Lozère massif: a rugged granite plateau, a labyrinth of valleys, islands of hamlets nestled in the hollows of the endless hills. I have traversed them in spring, when winter is shedding its last gasps; I remember an unexpected awakening in Barre des Cévennes, buried beneath a mantle of snow. I have also admired the spring brilliance of gorse and the splendor of narcissus carpets. More recently, I discovered the decline of summer, as autumn begins to color the chestnut trees gold.

Today, we begin our wanderings in the Mont Lozère massif. One day is enough to make a North-South crossing, but after having done it, we wish to explore this vast mountain from East to West. This morning, we approach it with a circular route: along the GR®44 and GR®68, we follow the foothills of the Lot. The few hamlets become increasingly rare, like Orcières and Lozerette. We cross a deep and wild ravine to reach Oultet, clinging to the cliff’s edge, where a few sturdy houses with slate roofs proudly stand. It’s better not to get lost here in fog or snow. The end of our stage leads us to the southern slope of the massif. Shortly after the commemorative cross of the tragically love-struck shepherd, the path leads us to the hamlet of Les Laubies. An old church, a welcoming inn, and a few houses nestled at the foot of a granite landslide. On the terrace of the inn, we enjoy an aperitif facing a pastoral landscape, embracing the pyramid of Cham des Bondons and the cliffs of Causse Méjean.

The beautiful weather holds up; it’s the peak of Indian summer. We continue on our way, cheerful and light, to frolic along the ridges of Mont Lozère. Upon leaving Les Laubies, we ascend the southern slope of the massif. A brief forest crossing leads us to the Chômeurs road, at the foot of the rock of Les Laubies (1562 m). We make our way through the pastures, accompanied by red cows and the wind. Under an azure sky, we walk as a sea of fog engulfs the Tarn valley. Soon, we leave the pastoral path to cut across fields towards the signal of Les Laubies (1657 m). A path marked by modest cairns guides us through the undulations of the mountain, a most pleasant route along the buckled spine of the massif. I give thanks to the gods of Mont Lozère who have always blessed me with this clear sky.

Pont du Tarn The summit of Finiels (1699 m) is the highest point of the massif, a natural belvedere overlooking the valleys and ridges that sketch the tormented physiognomy of Lozère. It’s not surprising that this department is the least populated in France; nor is it surprising that this desert is a true paradise for hikers! Beyond the band of coniferous forest and clusters of deciduous trees, we discover a mineral universe. Finiels is just a few steps away, but the landscape there is pleasantly rugged and wild, overwhelmed by the heat. We take a well-deserved break on the edge of the hamlet, amidst a chaotic granite field, between rolling boulders and remnants of monumental erosion.

The path resolutely heads south, weaving between meager pastures where cows scatter among the rocks. We cross the Rieumalet stream and plunge into its ravine, experiencing its coolness. There’s no rush: the afternoon shines brightly and the end of our journey is very close. All that’s left is to descend to Pont-de-Montvert, nestled on the banks of the Tarn. The village seems to be entering a languorous sleep.

At Pont-de-Montvert, we are truly in Protestant territory. The temple bears witness to this: its austere architecture reflects the soul of the Cévennes, just as the nobility of the wooden pulpit carries the heritage of the spirituality of the Camisards. Neither the king's dragons nor his galleys could ever extract the reformed faith from these hills. This village was the cradle of the Camisard War, which bled and burned the Cévennes in the early 18th century.

It was here that a group of Protestants, led by Pierre, nicknamed "Esprit," Séguier, assassinated the abbé du Chayla, the leader of the fight against the reformed faith. However, the royal troops quickly captured the leader. Justice was swift: Pierre Séguier was tried in Florac and executed at Pont-de-Montvert, at the foot of the Clock Tower, which still stands proud near the old bridge.

Here is a long and magnificent stage, one of the highlights of our hike. It begins, however, with a stretch of asphalt, but this quiet little road along the Tarn makes for an enjoyable morning warm-up. We quickly leave the D.998 to climb towards Merlet. Thus, we return to the stony paths of Mont Lozère. At Felgerolles, we find the markers for GR®72 and begin a rocky ascent through a granite chaos, a scenery that is both rugged and wild.

On the banks of the Tarn, the landscape starts to open up to the vast emptiness of the southern slope. A peaceful stroll along the river, calmed down after the spring heat. The site of the Pont du Tarn retains all its charm. The beautiful Romanesque arches of the old bridge span the crystalline waters scattered with granite blocks, evoking the peaceful history of transhumants who stopped there, in the shade of the pines.

Cévennes We continue eastward. The GR®72 scrapes the forest before finding the stony moor where the sources of the Tarn spring forth. The hamlet of Bellecoste, in poor condition, bears witness to the agony of the robust granite buildings. The Lozère massif returns to the tranquility of the desert. Even the transhumant herds seem to be rare here, but a young couple is busy restoring one of the houses, possibly yearning for the solitude of a summer residence. Yet, "one swallow does not make a spring"!

The road winds below Pic Cassini (1680 m), the second highest peak of the massif. We find the forest again before reaching Mas de la Barque (1420 m). The gîte is set in the heart of a sunny glade, inviting us to enjoy a blonde beer. The sandwiches, also generous, turn out to be delicious.

The afternoon promises to be calm: the guidebook announces 11 km to Villefort (Voie Régordane GR®700 or Chemin de St Gilles), at the end of the valley, with 800 meters of elevation change. Beware of hasty judgments! Certainly, we do go down into the forest and twirl around until we lose ourselves. But there are also climbs, like on this rocky ridge leading to Bousquillou (1115 m).

There, we finally leave the cover of the underbrush to find wide horizons again. And what horizons! To the west, Mont Lozère stretches its back over the meager hamlets. To the east, the Ardèche mountain displays its jagged relief, promising days without boredom. Come on, we have already seen magnificent landscapes. Let’s enjoy the pleasure of walking along the panoramic ridge of Plo de la Voulp before finally diving down towards Villefort.

The night promises to be restless: the next day, the village organizes a hiking brevet. The gîte is packed with cheerful hikers who celebrate their achievements… in advance.

This day constitutes a transitional stage between the Lozère massif and the Cévennes vivaraises. Moreover, part of the morning will have no other attraction than the tranquility of the forested hills after the proximity of the gîte. As soon as we leave Villefort, GR®44 climbs into the forest and lingers there without offering the slightest glimpse towards the valleys, which are barely hinted at on either side of the ridge.

Let’s be fair: we enjoy the shade and freshness of the underbrush, as the sun remains benevolent. Who could complain? The locals, undoubtedly, burdened by long months of drought!

The morning is already well underway when we leave the forest at the Croix de la Rousse to approach the rocky ridge of Serre de Barre. The walking becomes chaotic: we scramble along this jagged and bushy ridge. You would think we’ve entered the maquis.

But what a landscape awaits us this time!

To the right, the Cévennes hills undulate infinitely towards Aigoual; to the east, we fly over the Ardèche plateau until we reach the bluish horizon where the Ventoux rises. This famous viewpoint allows us to embrace a vast horizon! We therefore treat ourselves to a well-deserved panoramic snack.

At the southern spur of Serre de Barre, we begin a long descent. The old rocky path, sometimes bordered by walls, tumbles through the bushes of the hillside. A pause on the way, and we plunge back down towards Brahic, where the hamlet dozes in a Sunday nap. The soothing fountain calls us, and we seek refuge for a moment in the cool shade of the old church with its comb-like steeple.

There are still 300 meters to descend in the rubble to reach Les Vans (GR®4, GR®44, and Le Cévenol). Vineyards at the foot of the hills, plane trees lining the streets: we are indeed in the Midi. The village enjoys this weekend’s end on its terraces. We may appear a bit “masochistic” carrying our gear, but we have indulged in pleasures more intense than sipping a pastis!

Les Vans We start by lingering on the banks of the Chassezac, beyond Chambonas and its castle, then we return to the hills with the Cévenol. Gently at first, without any brutality. We climb slightly along good Mediterranean paths, winding along a long ravine, crossing pine underbrush, with a few vineyards near the peaceful hamlets we brush against. “Too late for the harvest!” a farmer cheerfully calls out to us. Yet, a few delightfully sweet clusters have survived.

After Les Aliziers, the path becomes steeper. The stony routes climb over rugged wooded hills, while we plunge down a ravine to climb higher again. We alternate the climbs to immediately lose altitude. In this rollercoaster game, when will we reach the 900 m of the Vivarais cévenol? We conclude a hefty morning scrambling in the rocks, between dilapidated walls. The rustling of chestnut leaves blends with the crunching of stones.

We take our midday break at Saint-Jean-de-Pourcharesse. The small square, serving as the forecourt for the old Romanesque church (another beautiful steeple), will do just fine. Not a soul in sight. In the neighboring house, the radio or television drowns out the sounds of the occupants: we knock on the door or the shutters; in the end, not a single fountain to fill up with fresh water! From this terrace, the landscape is more generous than the inhabitants.

Thines The afternoon holds a tough piece for us, another good portion of rollercoaster with the ascent taking precedence. The old rocky path guides us through bushy hills. At the remote hamlet of Dépoudent (700 m), we have a good effort left to reach the 865 m of Peyre: the noonday sun floods these rocky hills, stingy with shade. Yet, the beauty of the landscape compensates for the fatigue: descending a path, we dive into the decor, discovering the long ridge overlooking the ravine of Chassezac, a retrospective glance at our previous stage. And at a bend, the tiny hamlet of Thines reveals itself, the much-anticipated end of this challenging day. This stage will undoubtedly mark our memories, with Thines clinging to a rocky spur, perched above a dizzying ravine.

The hamlet? A handful of old slate and stone houses clustered around an unexpected Romanesque church in this corner of the Ardèche Cévennes.

In the heart of these wild hills stands a masterpiece of Romanesque architecture: a harmony of forms and a subtle arrangement of materials, alternating gray, pink, and white stones in a refined mosaic. By what miracle did the men of the Middle Ages, in the 12th century, erect this work of art in such solitude? Did this lost hamlet once have significant economic activity to enable the construction of this religious monument? Today, it loses its arms and its soul, as Germans and Dutch buy these old houses at high prices, inaccessible to the locals. The closed shutters of the restored homes sink into the long sleep of dying villages. How many times have we crossed these remnants of a rural civilization, be it on the causses, on the slopes of Mont Lozère, or in the lost valleys of the Hérault or Drôme ?

This stage will undoubtedly mark our memories as hikers as one of the wettest and most tumultuous experiences ever lived. My memories boil down to a frantic run through thick fog, rain drumming on our capes, while the storm echoed its fury above our heads. Instead of the majestic landscapes promised by the guidebook – which proudly claimed "beautiful views" – I only retained the violence of the elements, brutal sensations, yet strangely captivating. Was it reasonable to dawdle on this desolate ridge, alongside the pylons of a high-voltage line, our feet soaked by a torrent of mud, surrounded by the deluge and illuminated by lightning? But what else could I do in this solitude, with our lodging reserved... and that unwavering spark of recklessness that inhabits us, despite the weight of the years?

Vivarais It takes a bit of madness to leave the cozy cocoon and frolic on paths beaten by all kinds of weather. We were in search of authentic emotions, those surprises that modern life denies us. Along the way, we encountered a quartet of imprudent souls, also seeking an aquatic escape under the same deluge.

Fortunately, this stage was the shortest of the circuit. I had planned a little detour off the beaten path, the panoramic trail that encircles the Prataubériat massif… but in the end, we decided to stick to the classic route. A little crazy, indeed, but not completely senseless! Thus, we escaped the fury of the storm, although this didn’t protect me from one last electric shock: here I was, dripping wet and blinded, rushing into an electrified fence at the entrance of Loubaresse. A rather striking sensation, I assure you!

My anxious gaze scanned the horizon for a glimmer of hope. The village was drowned in fog, submerged in a gloomy procession of clouds. But we've seen worse, and the rain eventually subsided. The heavy sky, where veils of mist floated, enveloped the moor of the Prataubériat pass in an indecisive, almost desolate atmosphere.

We then crossed a forest leading to the Chambons. It was then that a question arose: should we take the ridge route of GR®7 or GR®72, which follows the valley of the Borne? Having already been well spoiled with panoramas, and with uncertain weather conditions, we opted for GR®72. A wise choice, as this path quickly revealed itself to be wild and picturesque.

Tanargue Hardly had we covered a short stretch of asphalt, flanked by mulberry bushes – a beautiful frame hiding a deep chasm – when the rocky path began to wind along the ravine. Below, the Borne rumbled, tumultuous, swollen by the deluge of the previous day. The hairpin turns descended into the canyon, offering spectacular views of the torrent. Even a tower ruin added to the scene, lending a touch of romance to the decor. The hamlet of Borne merely extended this atmosphere. There, a handful of houses and a few remnants bore witness to a glorious past. A superb granite porch, adorned with an enigmatic word and a venerable date, "1667," recalled those bygone times.

The path plunged under a green canopy, fording small streams, tributaries of the Borne, before reaching the ruined houses of Conches. I learned during our next stop that an old lady clung to these ruins until her recent death. But how did these lost souls manage to live in this rocky and wild environment? While our opulent society frets over trivial financial matters, these inhabitants probably led a rudimentary, laborious existence, wrested from nature. The paths that sometimes offer us spectacular change also immerse us in the history of these people, for our reflection… and perhaps our wisdom?

Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Then, the path took us away from the ravine of the Borne, suddenly gaining altitude before dropping towards Saint-Laurent-les-Bains. A pretty little town, with its small church featuring bright modern stained glass windows. Here, spa-goers rush to enjoy the virtues of the thermal springs, whose water, gushing at 53°C, is miraculous against rheumatism. We are not yet at this level of medicine, preferring a well-known saying: "A day on the path, ...". Quickly, as we left the town, we faced a 350-meter drop to dominate the high tower of Saint-Laurent and reach the cross of Pal. We moved at a brisk pace, as the storm was rumbling and the sky was darkening even further.

While descending the valley of Rieufrais, we reached the abbey of Notre-Dame-des-Neiges just before the first drops began to fall.

Founded in the 19th century by Cistercian Trappists, it was rebuilt after a fire in 1912. This is where Robert Louis Stevenson made a stop on his journey through the Cévennes. But it is undoubtedly Charles de Foucauld who left an indelible mark on the history of this abbey. After his novitiate, he was ordained a priest there before embarking for the Sahara. During World War II, the community even sheltered some underground members, including Robert Schuman. Today, the monks cultivate vines and produce a very decent table wine from grapes of the Midi.

We could not linger at the abbey: the rain was not announcing itself as a passing visitor. It was just the "tail" of the storm, and we still had three good kilometers to complete our final stage. In a flash, we sped into the valley of Rieufrais. L’Etoile awaited us, always welcoming and comfortable. Philippe Papadimitriou would be delighted to take us to the Trappe for a tasting of carefully crafted wines. A joyful culmination for our adventure in the Cévennes! Christian Lalanne

Former resort hotel with a garden on the banks of the Allier, L'Étoile Guesthouse is located in La Bastide-Puylaurent, nestled between Lozère, Ardèche, and the Cevennes in the mountains of Southern France. Positioned at the crossroads of GR®7, GR®70 Chemin Stevenson, GR®72, GR®700 Voie Regordane (Saint Gilles), GR®470 Sources and Gorges of the Allier, GRP® Cevenol, Montagne Ardechoise, and Margeride. It offers numerous loop routes for hiking and day-long cycling excursions. Ideal for a relaxing stay.