Travel France - Puy de Sancy
A long extinct volcano makes a middle-aged tourist feel like a kid again
“Those stairs look mighty steep,” I said to Jimmy, my husband, while squinting at the cloud-shrouded, jagged summit of Puy de Sancy. “Why don’t you hike up with your sister, Barbara, and niece, Thalia, while I stay warm in the cable car office?” Jimmy grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the first stair, saying, “You have to live dangerously once in awhile.”
Of course he was right. I’d come all the way from Massachusetts to experience France’s Auvergne and its extinct volcanoes to let 42-degree weather, howling crosswinds, and a flimsy sweatshirt stop me. My woman’s intuition, though, told me this would be a lot scarier than climbing the Eiffel Tower.
I navigated the awkward wooden steps carefully, holding onto the railing with one hand and covering my ear with the other, all the time fantasizing about the warmth an itty bitty eruption would bring to my nearly frozen body. Early into my ascent, the wind attempted to hurl me off the stairs and onto the patches of snow scattered along Sancy’s steep sides. Cold, confused and wondering if I was going to lose my nose, I hunkered down for stability and contemplated turning back. Jimmy urged me on with the promise, “We’re almost there.”
Not quite.
Some thirty triumphant minutes later, I reached the 850th stair where Jimmy gave me the thumbs up and a peck on my numb cheek. A mini adrenaline rush sent my body into defrost mode. Unraveling before my eyes was an endless panorama of rocky summits, grassy slopes and forested glens sculpted by retreating glaciers. To make my accomplishment even more memorable, the sun came out to celebrate my arrival and push my view of this foreboding lunar-like landscape nearly all the way to the Alps.
A burly, bearded Norwegian hiker joined us at the orientation map, which showed the location of the Dore, Dome and Cantal volcanic mountain ranges. He had reached the summit via the Puy de Sancy trail, a path that meanders up, down and around the Monts Dore region. I looked over the edge and thought him extraordinarily brave to have achieved such a feat. Just peering down the stairs ushered in a slight case of vertigo.
At 6,185 feet, Puy de Sancy is the highest peak in central France and the source of the Dordogne River. Sancy, along with Banne d’Ordanche and Aiguiller comprise the Monts Dore, an extinct volcanic chain that once covered an area three times larger than Mt. Vesuvius in Italy.
Together with hundreds of other extinct volcanoes they populate the Parc Naturel Régional des Volcans d’Auvergne just south of Clermont-Ferrand, forming the largest volcanic region in Europe. We approached Puy de Sancy and Le-Mont Dore from St. Nectaire, stopping for lunch at Buron du Col, an isolated bar/restaurant and former shepherd’s hut located at the top of a mountain pass dotted with yellow Gentian and loafing cows. White and brown cow hides for sale flapped in the wind as we pushed inside to get warm. A hostess who tripled as the waitress, cashier and bartender motioned us to sit down on the picnic-style benches. Souvenirs of the region -- bells, sweaters, antlers, shrink-wrapped animal parts, wine, and more animal hides - lined the walls and counters. After ordering Jambon ham omelets and Vichy mineral water, we joined the other patrons swatting flies coming in through the front door.
Despite waning appetites when flies rushed our cheese-drenched entrees, this was the kind of yummy memory Jimmy and I had come to rural France for.
To reach the summit of Sancy, we took an 8-minute cable car ride or teleferique for 6.5 Euros from the town of Le Mont Dore. Midway through the ride, our cable car operator beckoned us to the left side of the car where he pointed out mountain goats snoozing on the rocky ledges below. As we disembarked from the car, we discovered that Sancy’s summit could be cold and windy, even in mid-June, so be prepared for all types of weather.
Seeking a warmer and wimpier volcanic experience, Barbara, Thalia, Jimmy and I set out the next morning for a ramble around Lac Pavin, a cratered lake that formed when a volcano collapsed in on itself. The vegetation was lush, the water a deep blue. A quarter of the way around the path forked. The lower trail continued around the lake, while the upper headed towards Puy de Montchal, a smallish volcano with a crater on top.
Since it was 80 degrees and windless, we opted for another brush with lava.
The rocky path up Montchal started with a slight incline but became more strenuous and steep towards the summit where eleven-year-old Thalia easily overtook me when I stopped on the sideline to huff and puff.
The top afforded luxurious views of the rural countryside as well as other extinct volcanoes. Après hike, we lunched outside on salad and baguettes at Hotel Restaurant Le Lac Pavin, while drinking in our peaceful Auvergne surroundings. For sure, the Auvergne is an undiscovered French Shangri-la, an oasis of natural beauty where the traditions of yesterday remain forever young under the watchful eyes of extinct volcanoes.
It’s also a place where the faint of heart can vacation dangerously once in awhile and live to tell about it.
Author: Julianne Nardone and James Tsakirgis
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