A day in Haute Provence
Haute Provence is difficult to grasp from a distance, i.e. from the north beyond Valence or west of the Rhône. In fact, it’s a very small region, stretching between Mont Ventoux, Mont Denier, Montagne de Lure and Sainte Victoire to the south, but extending a little to the east beyond the Gorges du Verdon and to the north beyond the last remnants of the Buis les Baronnies pre-alps. I can’t speak more highly of Haute Provence than René Frégni, to whom I pay a vibrant tribute for this admirably accurate text.
“Provence is a dream. I feel it all around me, deep, mysterious, solar. It’s the light that has always attracted me; my eyes see almost nothing. I’m only happy outside, on the paths and in the trees. I love all skies and all seasons. I hear it breathe as I hear my heart in the middle of the night. And when I close my eyes, I hear it even better. Provence is like my life, I only understand it by walking. And so, until evening, I let the hours carry away my life and my dreams. I walk on this scorched earth towards the purple shadows of the hills and copper steeples. I love it when the wind lifts the water in the fountains like a dress. I love the sound of a shutter opening at 6 o’clock in the evening in summer in the hope of fresh air. I know that I’m walking tirelessly towards my childhood, towards my mother’s beautiful country.”
René Frégni
Our day begins early in Manosque. I say “our” because my friend Francis is, as is often the case, by my side on my walks in the hinterland. He doesn’t take photographs, but he loves to rediscover the landscapes of his childhood, almost undamaged by what he calls modernity. Many of the villages in the hinterland seem to have remained intact, protected by their inaccessibility to modern technology. For some, totally abandoned for over a century, we can easily imagine what life was like in the days when you had to go down into the valley and walk several kilometers to fetch drinking water. It’s then that Pagnol’s films come to mind, set against the backdrop of a war for sources of drinking water, a commodity so scarce in Haute Provence at the time.
From the heights of the hills surrounding Manosque, sunrise over the Gorges du Verdon is always a unique, ephemeral and grandiose spectacle. An obligatory stop for the daily meeting at the café to restore a few lost memories, and we’re off on the road to the Plateau de Valensole, still chilly under the morning fog from the previous day’s snowfall.
Snow in Haute Provence on the plateau is not a common occurrence in these times, although old-timers have memories of snowfalls accompanied by episodes of intense cold that caused olive trees to freeze. But that was in the old days, as they say. After some hesitation, the sun finally comes out and lights up the almond trees in bloom. It’s February, and the almond trees are the first to show off their multicolored blossoms, ranging from white to luminous pink. The flowering season here is quite early, starting in the southern villages of Cassis, where you can see the almond trees in bloom as early as the end of January. At this time, lavender is far too early, and will remain in bloom under cover for a few months before reaching maturity in mid-July.
At the far end of the plateau, winding roads lead us to Moustier Sainte Marie, via the edge of the Sainte Croix du Verdon lake. It’s said that there are no fewer than 17 legends surrounding the Moustiers star. In any case, it was first mentioned in 1636. Today, it’s Frédéric Mistral’s version, which became almost official in the 20th century, that seems to be generally adopted by the people of Provence. It states that the star was set by the seigneur de Blacas, a crusader captured by the Saracens during the 7th Crusade…
As we chat on the way back, we cross the Durance, which divides this region in two, having carved its bed in the pebbles eroded from the Alps. In fact, the geography of this region is intimately linked to the geological history of the Alps, which were formed in the Tertiary era and continue to rise as the Mediterranean closes in. On the other side of what was once a river, the landscape changes radically: no more round, polished pebbles, but steep, arid limestone hills. We enter the Luberon and the Montagne de Lure, the hills so dear to Jean Giono. Passing through Bonnieux and Roussillon, the bories, once home to shepherds and sheep during transhumance, offer us a moment of freshness.
Perched on a hilltop, Simiane la Rotonde suddenly appears. From the columned terrace photographed by Henri Cartier Bresson, we take time to admire the valley and breathe in the scent of nature, before taking a short stroll to the village of Montsalier le Vieux, abandoned since the First World War.
Climbing up the Lure mountain, we pass through villages and countryside in the warm colors of the setting sun, just enough time to pass through Banon before arriving on the roof of the world, at Le Contadour to admire Mont Ventoux falling asleep in the distance.
Haute Provence (France) – 2023
