31 May 2010, Toulouse to Foix
Seem to have stepped off the map. Train doesn’t go to Foix anymore. It’s a bus. Trying not to let this dissuade me. Skies are grey as I set off — matching an off-colour mood. Still not sure how much I’ll actually hike, although I’m not sure there is much else to do down here. Countryside around Toulouse to the south is fairly tame, but I expect a change getting into the mountains.
Almost missed the connection this morning. Nothing is explained in regards to the whole “autocar” system, it’s assumed if you are traveling here you must know the area. Local knowledge is always a precious commodity. I’m hoping to absorb some as I go…
It took only a few moments in the town of Foix to understand a key characteristic of the Cathars. They were mountain people, uninterested in the larger power struggles of church and state that swept them up. The stunningly gorgeous medieval town of Foix hugs the river Ariége, and is nestled in a valley between two steep hills. The valley itself is a vein into the heart of the Pyrenees, and beautiful beyond description.
Upon arrival, I wander the narrow twisting streets, happening upon one of the town churches, an abbey actually, devoted to St. Volusian. He’s the patron saint of Foix. Volusianus of Tours was the Bishop of Tours in the late 5th century before being forced from his see by the Visigoths. He might also have been martyred. Bummer. The church had a quiet, stoic, peaceful air, quite different from the more lugubrious cathedrals of Paris.
After a light lunch, I march up the hill to the Foix castle. It’s remarkably well-preserved and sits proudly atop a steep promontory. Some of the castle is clearly restored and “like new”. There is a bed in one prominent room that, it is said, was once used by Henri IV. I discover here at the castle’s historical markers that his noble lineage can be traced back to the aristocracy in Foix. I wonder if perhaps this is an insight into what were mercurial religious beliefs.
At the top of the castle taking in the stunning panorama I ran across two couples from Yorkshire, and fell into an impromptu history lesson as I am prone to. They didn’t seem to mind.
Today I also realized, sadly, that I probably won’t be able to do much hiking. My knee is still quite weak, the load is too heavy, and the terrain is a bit more rugged than I imagined. But I think I will nonetheless make the trip to Montségur tomorrow. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity I’d be foolish to pass up.
The realization came as I climbed a nearby hill — St. Sauveur — this afternoon. The terrain around here is very rugged. Phenomenal, even. The view and experience at the top of St. Sauveur, however, was really beyond description. The whole of the Ariége vale lay before me. I was surrounded by a scintillating incarnation of the Pleroma. Shards of spirit seemed to shine through the valley. I thought, for a moment, that nothing could compare.
So many thoughts have come and gone today, but I am also very tired. The way of travel and adventure, I think.