Trails of the Luberon by Daphne Beames

When Peter Mayle first published his delightful book on the pleasures of the Luberon, a whole generation of Francophiles was born. A ‘Year in Provence’ seemed the ideal, prescribed tonic for just about everyone! The price of real estate soared, as hoards of holiday-makers headed for Ménerbes and other back-waters in the South of France. One by one the villages gilded their brochures as they counted their new found wealth. Discovering the Luberon ranked somewhere between the quest for an elixir and the search for the Holy Grail. Knowing we would eventually succumb to the hype – we waited awhile for the hysteria to abate.

Exactly what is the Luberon? It is a limestone mountain rising four-square in the middle of Provence - a looming presence between the towns of Cavaillon and Manosque. It is white, it is cedar-clad and it is strangely addictive. The Combe de Lourmarin or the ‘Lourmarin gap’ is a valley that creates a natural, north south divide between Le Petit Luberon in the west and the Grand Luberon in the east.

A Parc Naturel surrounds the villages in the valleys where eagle owls, beavers, wild boar and large lizards roam. Fields of lavender, purple monkey-orchids and yellow, alpine poppies lend splashes of colour. The Luberon has been inhabited since pre-historic times - it is honeycombed with caves and shelters and it pulses with an ancient energy.

After highlighting ‘must-see’ sights on a map we chose a centrally located hotel, the Moulin de Vernègues at Pont Royal, midway between Avignon and Aix-en-Provence. This gracious, stone manor house has retained much of the charm expected from a 15th-century, former royal hunting lodge. Standing on the old post road - now the national D7 that runs all the way from Paris to Nice – the up-market resort even offers an 18-hole golf course.

After a leisurely Sunday morning breakfast on the terrace, we set off to explore the heart of the valley. Right on our doorstep, and impressively silhouetted against the skyline, rose the ruins of the Roman Temple of Vernégues. If this was a pre-view, we were in luck! The fragrance of lavender and wild thyme scented the air as we headed towards ‘the gap’ and stopped to admire the imposing, geometric façade of the Cistercian Abbey of Silvacane - about as perfect a building as can be found anywhere in the region.

Bonnieux was our preferred choice for lunch. Le haut ville, the liveliest of all the Luberon’s gems, is set on a limestone plateau and surrounded by 13th-century city walls. With views reaching into infinity, it is not surprising that this beautiful, remote village attracts everyone who has ever read ‘Mayle on France’.

Visit the museum de la boulangerie - dedicated to the history of bread making; the 12th-century church, built on an ancient Celtic site and the old railway station that survives as an art gallery. The popular restaurant, Le Fournil, nestles against the rocks and under the plane trees - its yellow ochre walls and colourful umbrellas, oozing charm and inviting custom. In addition to lunch you wlll be buying a memory.

To add to the piquancy, each cluster of rural hamlets deserves a villain. Le Petit Luberon has at least two! From the walls of Bonnieux, the hill-top village of Le Coste is clearly visible against a smoky blue backdrop of mountain ranges and the distant peak of Mount Ventoux.

Here, the sinister castle of the Marquis de Sade, ravaged during the Revolution but now partially restored, rises starkly on the horizon. A tour of the interior reveals a theatre constructed by the Marquis for the performances of his plays and - on the cobbled streets below - the legend lives in names like the Café de Sade and Les Studios de Justine. La Coste trades on its darkest past and its dubious hero.

Near-by is the impossibly situated Oppéde-le-Vieux. In the bloody wars of the 16th-century a lesser-known villain, Jean de Maynier, Baron d’ Oppéde, destroyed eleven villages and devastated the countryside. Today the ruined village clings perilously to the mountainside – abandoned, overgrown and awesome.

Ménerbes, on the alpine ridge between Oppéde and La Coste, was the nodal point for our afternoon’s viewing. With a name redolent of fragrant herbs and recommendations aplenty - expectation was at an all time high. Picasso was once seduced by its golden light, and ex-pat interest in the 1990’s brought world-wide exposure to this erstwhile Calvinist stronghold.

We left the car in the leafy car park and climbed the narrow approach road - only to be met by cheerless streets, drab walls and the inaptly named ‘Café du Progres’. (Perhaps it was the very expectation that led to disappointment?) The sole advertised attraction is a museum of corkscrews and that says it all! There is a nice church and there are fine views but the finer points of beauty and charm are not here.

This is not the story in Gordes. Outside the town is a small sign pointing to the picturesque ‘Village of the Bories’. Bories are dry-stone barns or shelters thought to date back to pre-historic times but definitely inhabited during the Middle Ages. Rather like squat, summer igloos, they are strange and intriguing. (Remember to reserve a table at the celebrated Restaurant Les Bories.) Architecturally the town seems to be one huge, geometric cube with a Renaissance castle crowning the holistic design. Orchestrally, the çicadas claim the hot rocks as their giant stage. Photographic possibilities are endless and the appeal, infinite.

Close-by is the ‘red’ village of Roussillon. It is the russet red of these cliffs, beneath an azure sky and against the chalky white of limestone rock that so enchants. Time your visit for sunset when Roussillon’s reds, vividly contrasted against the deep green of the pines, glow with an ethereal beauty. Only the canyons of Colorado can compete.

An early start the next morning took us to five magical villages in the Grand Luberon. Like a portfolio of watercolours – each has its own particular charm and a short, scenic drive of 25 kms will embrace them all. Access is again via ‘the gap’. We were bound for Cadenet on the D943 where a statue of an unlikely hero, André Estienne, stands in the town square. The little drummer boy’s loud and incessant drumming helped to win a strategic battle during the Napoleonic wars.

Mediterranean vegetation thrives in the milder climate on the southern slopes of the Luberon and Loumarin, located here, is a pretty town of flowers, fields, vines and fountains. It also boasts a large 16th-century chateau, famous for its fine Renaissance fireplaces.

Like small, fresh water pearls, the next three villages are strung along a thread of a road - the D56 – running just north of the Durance River. Vaugines is minuscule and quaint – its blues, greens and greys resembling nothing less than a picture postcard. Cucuron offers more in the way of cafés and restaurants - but do reconnoitre on foot. Many of its winding, cobbled streets are too narrow to be negotiated by car – a lesson we learnt the hard way! Ansouis is the best village on the route and its claim to fame is that the Sabran family have owned the charming, hill-top castle since 1160. There is also a strange exhibition of marine sculptures and fossils in the Musée Extraordinaire.

In this Latin countryside, lunch is almost a religion and, at Fort de Buoux, the restaurant Auberge de la Loube serves the best of the cuisine of the south. Try the vegetable platters liberally garnished with sundried tomatoes and juicy olives - followed by lamb flavoured with garlic and wild thyme. Resist the full-bodied red wines of the region if you plan to spend the afternoon sightseeing in Apt.

The market town of Apta Julia is the largest centre in the area and dates back to Gallo-Roman times. Named after Julius Caesar it stands at the end of the Coomb valley on the northern slopes of the Luberon and is famous for its cherry orchards, its truffles and the medieval Cathédral Ste-Anne.

Plan to spend at least one day in Aix-en-Provence. The ex-capital of Provence is the city of fountains; of Cézanne; of learning and, or course, of the Cours Mirabeau. This avenue has a stunning, natural beauty and the aisle of ancient, spreading, plane trees forms its own breathtaking cathedral - so real that one can almost hear the stirring notes of symphony. Provence is like that - apt to sway emotions.

Wander through the old town to the north of the main avenue and then sip a café crême (or, à la Winston Churchill, something stronger) at La Deux Garçons on the Cours. Here, viewing chairs outside the bottle green and gold façade, provide ring-side seats for watching the world as it passes by.

Admire the architecture of the grand 17th and 18th-century mansions on the south side of the street. Once owned by royalty and aristocrats (number 10 was even the seat of a grizzly murder), they are, today, almost exclusively the property of financiers and banking houses. Perhaps one day in Aix will never be enough?

Provence issues an open invitation to return - and its singular, white, limestone mountain possesses a strange magnetism where mystical echoes from the past seem somehow to mingle with eternity.