On paper, the last few days were a match made in heaven. Volcanoes set in a World Heritage Site. Check. Iconic cycling climbs. Check. Perfect summer weather. Check. Cheese? Oh yes.
Auvergne didn’t disappoint.
We can deal with the volcanoes and iconic cycling climbs in one. Auvergne is home to the Chaînes des Puys, a range of over 80 dormant volcanoes spread over 40 kilometres on a north-south axis. Note the exciting use of the word dormant there – these are not extinct and future volcanic activity is possible. They are an incredible sight, rising sharply from the plain below, the lowlands themselves a product of extension tectonics. To a geologist this is all terribly thrilling. The highest point of all is the Puy-de-Dome, visible for as far as you can imagine in all directions and topped with its easily identifiable telecommunications tower. It has an almost mythical status among cycling fans, largely because of the epic duel between Poulidor and Anquetil in 1964, although until 2023 most of us had never seen a race there. The installation of the new train in 1988 put paid to racing on the Puy for a while, and cyclists are still banned from cycling to the summit. Still, the train is fantastic and well worth the trip, as it curls around the volcano at 8-10% gradients over 15 exciting minutes to the summit. The views from the top are as you would expect from a 1400m hilltop visible from all over the region. Old volcanoes stretch away into the distance, the stratavolcano of Cantal is clearly identifiable on the horizon, and the modern city of Clermont-Ferrand sits in a vast plain to the east. This hilltop was selected by the Romans for a temple to Mercury in 100-200AD – there is a brilliant museum dedicated to it at the top, and you can view the reconstructed foundations – and by modern paragliders as a vertigo-inducing launchpad. It was a wonderful place to get a handle on the overall landscape and to imagine the journeys of passing pilgrims in Roman times, taking time out from their travels to homage to Mercury and ask for protection. On a warm sunny day, and with the benefit of a train ride up, it was hard to imagine the travails involved in building the temple in this remote and usually inhospitable place.
We were up to Puy-de-Dome early and spent the afternoon in nearby Clermont-Ferrand, a largely unremarkable city built out of volcanic rock. It was a pleasant enough place to explore but the real highlight was the Gothic cathedral. I have an awkward relationship with places of worship; I am an atheist but understand the need for people to have a need for something to believe in, while distrusting immensely the institutions that claim to know all the answers. Cathedrals to me are places of wonder, immense beacons for the holy, places for people to gather and live and to be remembered, with countless lives passing through – but audiences bring power, and they are also places where control can be exercised by the powerful over the meek. Moreover, they are places of cool in the heat of the day. Clermont-Ferrand’s cathedral must be almost unique, built out of dark basalt and perhaps the most atmospheric I have even been to. The interior was so dark there were candles everywhere, and the colours beaming in through the stained glass windows were the only sources of natural light. It was an astonishingly beautiful place.
The town itself was hot, almost too hot. One of the temperature gauges outside a pharmacy read 49C, and although that was clearly a fault it was intense. On a cooler day we might have spent more time exploring and found more interesting places, but the air-con of a shopping mall won us over until the meter ran out.
In the countryside, there was cooler air and some beautiful sights. We took in the Méandre de Queuille, a geographical textbook example of an oxbow lake in formation; or perhaps more prosaically, a Prussian blue curl of a river sweeping round almost a full bend, separated from its short-cut only by a hard outcrop of volcanic rock that makes it take the scenic route around. Seen from above at the viewpoint by the church, kayakers far below are mere specks in an otherwise perfectly calm natural scene. Further east, we cooled off in the lake at Gour de Tazanet, a crater lake formed when lava blocked the outflow of an ancient river, trapping the water behind. It’s a beautiful spot for a swim, the tourist numbers never felt overwhelming, and the cafe does a decently cold pint of beer too.
We also managed a trip to Volvic, the village where the spring water originated from. it was an odd place, with a village centre entirely disconnected from the deserted Volvic visitor centre a few hundred metres uphill. There was no ‘Volvic’ presence in the village, and the tourist information centre has been relocated into a swish new building in the Volvic campus, so perhaps the tourists who come for the water aren’t making their way into the village any more. We made our way instead to the Auberge La Chaumière, where there was a ruined chateau, friendly service and fantastic views across the plain.
And the cheese. Oh my goodness, the cheese. We visited Fromagerie Morel in the village of Pontgibaud, where we stayed on a beautiful campsite by the river, and picked out half a dozen for an afternoon picnic-dinner. Auvergne has five AOP cheeses, all of which were available in the shop. We chose an eclectic selection all from within the region, from tiny squishy goats cheeses to slices of enormous tommes that were matured with delicious rinds. The two highlights, for me, were the Blue d’Auvergne (of course) and a squishy cheese called La Fleurie that was rolled in a variety of flowers that added flavours ranging from turmeric through violet to rose. The sheer diversity of cheeses available from just one region in just one shop was incredible.
On the final morning, I got on my bike and decided to ride as much of Puy-de-Dome as I could. The road to the summit itself is closed to the public, both on bike and on foot, but we had driven most of the a lovely climb called the Col de Sassyat and this seemed like a good early morning ride. I left Pontgibaud heading south and was soon on the first climb up to Bannières, catching my first glimpse of both the sunrise and Puy-de-Dôme as I got onto the plateau. The climbing really starts after the next village, Champille, with an initial steep bit then an easier section rising through the woods towards Sassyat. It was steady work and all around the woods were quiet; a bird of prey looking like a cross between a jay and a sparrowhawk swept past, surprised at my presence. There were few cars around and the early morning chorus was occasionally punctuated by the drum of a woodpecker. Towards the end, the climb steepens without ever being difficult, and before you know it you’re at the pass, with the Auberge les Gros Manaux in front of you. Being so wooded, there isn’t a view in any direction, but a few steps off the path reveals the walkers’ route up to the Puy and a large volcano to have your photo in front of. I diligently took a snap here, and with the ‘Col de Sassyat alt 1078m’ marker, but with nothing else to detain me it was back down the wonderful flowing descent. It was an absolute joy, and I was not only back to camp early but with a good breakfast from the village ready for when everyone else got up.
We finished our stay with a coffee by another lakeside while the boys threw themselves around in a lake, the volcanoes of the Chaînes de Puy a stunning backdrop, and the remnants of our cheese buffet accompanying us in the coolbox. Auvergne was magnificent. We’ll be back soon I’m sure.