Here's a picture taken of Bonnieux from the outset of the hike. You can notice the peculiarity of the village, having two churches. The one at the top of the village, dating from the 12th century, proved too small to house all the church-goers , and "l'église du bas" -- or the lower church -- was built in the 19th century. Today it's tough to fill a quarter of one of them.
Bonnieux is set in the Luberon made famous by Peter Mayle in his Year in Provence. This part of the Luberon is filled with magnificent hiking trails, linking village to summits, old farmhouses to vineyards, allowing travellers to experience a Provence far from the tourists...
During my ascension toward the cedar forest, I encountered some lone specimens of cedar on the lower slopes. Cedar trees were introduced in Provence in the 19th century from the Atlas Mountains in Morocco. This was at a time when France had succumbed to terrible floods, and instated laws to reforest the barren slopes...
It was just after taking this picture that I heard a crash in the trees ahead. With the wind in my face the boar didn't sense my approach. I didn't see it but knew it was within a few meters. I froze, waited 30 seconds, picked up a couple of stones and threw them (I was a 3rd baseman after all). Nothing. I decided to continue up the path. Huge snort from the bush ahead. Back to the drawing board. I backpeddled, waited about a minute, and decided to continue up the path, and heard no more. It must have left without making another sound: amazing for a creature of its size. 50 meters ahead on the path, I saw its young one, probably from the last year's litter, about as tall as my thigh. It skirted off ahead. I knew then why the mother didn't dash away when I first approached. Good thing I didn't see her.
After a 1 hour climb, I reached the crest of the mountain and its beautiful cedar forest. Unfortunately, a paved road leads there too: it's always a little dissapointing to see parked cars after you've had to sweat your way up...
A picture taken at the outset of my descent: some of the remaining snow from the previous week's storm...
Back in the valley, I passed the 13th century St. Hilaire Abbey:
My return to Bonnieux was via Lacoste, a medieval village crowned by the ruins of the castle of the Marquis de Sade, seen in the picture below. Sade spent three years in the castle, working on his (in)famous writings. Altogether he would spend more than half his life in prison, thanks to his manuscipts. Poor guy. I had always thought that Sade had an open mind for his era: that he was ahead of his time, imprisoned for what today would amount to nothing more than a particular goût for a practise that now carries his name... And then I read one of his works. The man was disgusting.
But his village is charming. Despite being located in a prized area for tourists, Lacoste is often skipped over, its cobbled streets and stone archways lovely-but-not-too-restored, leading through a small labyrinth of centuries-old homes, some façades in ruins, plants sprouting from walls and rooftops. Truly magical. The shops are few and discreet, as are the homes that make up the American art school in the village.
This has always been my favourite shot to take in Lacoste: out the old village gate, with Mont Ventoux -- Provence's highest peak -- in the far backdrop.
