I have been to the Ardèche a few times over the years, but not since I was much younger, with my parents and our caravan. I remember the history being awe-inspiring, the views being breathtaking, and the kayaking being incredible. Yet returning, coming through the small limestone towns, and across the famous gorge, I was still struck by how utterly beautiful the area is.
Home to the Ardèche Gorge, which runs for around 32km from just north of Pont D'Arc to Saint Martin D'Ardèche, the region is a beautiful amalgamation of prehistoric history, geological magic, and a beautiful Mediterranean way of life.
I have previously, every time I have visited the area, stayed in Vallon Pont D'Arc, at the top of the Gorge, just outside of Pont D'Arc itself. I've seen some parts of the region, and kayaked the 32km from top to bottom of the gorge, but there was still so much more to see, coming back meant that I wouldn't be disappointed.
This time, I stayed at a beautiful site on the south end of the river, in Saint Martin D'Ardeche itself. with the edge of the campsite running alongside the river itself, the campsite is as close to the water as you can get, and perfect for waking up early and diving in.
The area around the site itself is full of small villages, chateaus, and prehistoric caves, that I needed to get out and explore. So early one morning, I left the site, and went to see what I could find.
Montclus is just across the border in the Gard region, south of the Ardèche. A hilltop village, that looks down over a river, the town is the home of a 14th century chateau that is now, unfortunately, beyond repair.
I climbed to the top of the village, which was closed for the season, and found a quintessentially French village, nestled on top of the rock.
With Provençal blue doors and old cars lining the narrow streets, while houses opened up their front rooms to sell lavender and olive oils, the place was so utterly cliche, it was like it had walked out of Peter Mayle's own novel. But here it was, in front of me, living life as an everyday town where people worked, and ate, and slept, and don't realise that they are living half of the British population's dream.
Following on from Montclus, I set off up the gorge, not really knowing where I was going.
Every hairpin turn reveals a new view that is just as staggeringly beautiful as the last. Lush green hills, and golden limestone climb high above the fast rapids of the river below, and dotted in every back garden is a vin yard full of ripe grapes, ready to be made into a new bottle of Rhone Valley wine.
On the opposite side of the bridge to Saint Martin D'Ardche is a small village, that I had seen from the campsite, but had no idea what it was, or indeed how to get up there. My route back led me past a small single track road that seemingly headed in the right direction, so I set off that way.
I eventually found my way up to Aiguèze (I still haven't worked out how to pronounce this), the Medieval village which looms over the campsite and river.
The village itself is beautiful. Far more touristy than Montclus the village had plaques on every corner, the sweetest tourist information office I have ever stepped into, and little restaurants, serving cold drinks and lunchtime meals to the few that were slowly wandering around the cobbled streets.
The village is a 14th century fortress that guards the end of the Ardèche gorge, and the church, which was renovated in 1910 by the Archbishop of Rouen, is Romanesque in its origins.
After climbing to the top of the fortress, and walking along the defensive wall, the river below came far too tempting in the 30 degree heat, and I set back off the the campsite, to throw myself into the cooling water.
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