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The Loire Valley is a rich area of gardens and orchards, inhabited since the middle Paleolithic period. Famed for many Chateaux, the one I visited was Chenonceau, built between 1556 and 1576. It spans the river Cher and was a gift from Henry 11 to his mistress, the lovely Diane de Poitiers.

Chenonceau Chateau

She adored the chateau and made extensions, also engaging a landscape architect to design magnificent flower and vegetable gardens.

When Henry died, his widow and regent, Catherine de Medici, forced her rival to exchange Chenonceau for another castle – not exactly a hardship but it must have been annoying to abandon a home which had made her happy, and one in which she probably hoped to end her days.

Chenonceau has had a number of

LILIES IN ONE OF THE GALLERIES

additions over the years, with beautiful galleries on two levels, and wonderful views over the water. On the day I visited it was redolent with the perfume of lilies; delightful flower arrangements from the gardens filled every room.

During the First World War, Chenonceau became a hospital. It treated over two thousand two hundred and fifty four causalities. On the 31^st December, 1918, the last patient was discharged from the chateau.

The castle spans both banks of the river. The little adventure I am about to relate is funny now, but seemed a crisis at the time!

Late in the afternoon, ready to leave, I faced a locked door at one end of the gallery. Convinced it was the one where I’d entered, and thinking the coach was in that direction, I asked how to reach the opposite bank. I was dismayed when a receptionist told me the door couldn’t possibly be opened: I’d have to cross by the bridge. Far off in the distance, I could see le pont, and she confirmed my worst fears by saying it was a long way.

EXTENSIONS TO THE CASTLE

The last thing I wanted was to be late, or worse, miss the coach. Close to panic, I rushed across the beautiful gardens and set off at speed once along a pretty path in the woods. The bridge never seemed to get any closer. Hot and perspiring, I plodded on. Half an hour came and went. By then, both path and bridge had vanished. Faced with thick bushes ahead, there was nothing for it but to turn back, and even less time to lose. They must

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REFLECTIONS

open that door! On the way I practised my hissy fit, in French. J’etais une dame trop agee pour marcher aussi loin. On doit ouvrir la porte etc etc. I was too old to walk that far. They must open the door…

Amazingly, they understood my French and responded in kind. A woman nearby immediately offered to show me the way. What a fool I felt. I’d been on the correct side of the river all along! We chatted in French all the way, a rare chance to do so, with everyone except the guide speaking only English.

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I arrived five minutes before the coach was due to leave. Phew!

SAINT EMILION

Vineyards glow in the morning light, surrounded by ancient walls decorated with moss. Crumbling ruins dot the fields, testament to the beauty of past architecture. In steep, cobbled streets of the town, we imagine occupation of the region stretching back to Neolithic times, the many caves making perfect homes for primitive tribes.

Situated on the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela, the village name was inspired by a monk from Brittany. Interestingly, after Eleanor of Aquitaine married Henry Plantagenet, in 1152, it was ruled by the Angevin King of England, Henry 11.

In the 8^th C, Emilion, a Breton monk fleeing persecution from the Benedictine order, took up residence in one of the many grottoes carved into rocks. He lived there for the last seventeen years of his life, performing miracles and attracting a big following.

It is said Romans planted the first grapes at St Emilion in the 2nd C, shortly before the end of their occupation. Many monks joined Emilion. They recognized the quality of the wine being produced, and its commercial possibilities. Since then, St Emilion has grown into one of the principal red wine areas of Bordeaux, which is the largest wine growing area in France. Most of the best wines are blended, typically 70% Merlot, 15% Cabernet Franc and 15% Cabernet Sauvignon.

The Monolithic Church was built in the 12^th C, after St Emilion’s death, and is on three levels. First a pilgrim site and now World Heritage, I was surprised at the vast space and high, vaulted ceilings cut out of the limestone beneath the medieval town. Most of the church pictures and treasures were sold during the French Revolution, and many of the frescoes have been destroyed.

By the 18^th C, the church suffered severe structural weakness and risked collapse, due to constant infiltration of water into supporting stone columns. Initial attempts at a solution only exacerbated the problems.

A team of European geologists, engineers, architects and international experts conferred, eventually developing measures which have rendered the building safe. Two rows of columns, surrounded by protective metal bars are part of the solution, which also includes restored drainage, part of the original concept.

In the dim light we took care walking on the uneven dirt floor. Gazing at Emilion’s bed we noted he was a man of small stature. And there was his chair, carved into the wall. Women who wish to conceive sit there now, and the miracle happens…A nearby spring is also said to possess magical powers. Anyway, miracles or not, we decide Emilion deserved to become a saint, spending so much of his lifetime underground, and in dim candle light. A few clusters of ferns grow there now, beneath electric lights.

Outside in glaring sun, we glimpsed the tower of the Monolithic church against a brassy sky. I felt ravenous, more than ready enjoy our luncheon of Fromage de Chevre in puff pastry, Coq Au Vin and Soup au Fruit. As for le vin rouge, it was the finest of our trip – we were still talking of it days later. There’s only one word for it: superbe!