“Why don’t we try that way instead of going directly to Avène?” I suggested, pointing straight ahead. A tiny flicker of surprise rolled over Remi’s eyebrow. He is the suggester, the spot finder and an incredibly talented one at that. I am more of the “Can we head back now?” variety I have to admit. A lazy adventurer. But Remi is the real thing and there is never too far, too wide or too long to go.
So up the road we started and the further the car crawled, the steeper the hill, the blinder the turns and the worse the condition of the road. If I didn’t have supreme confidence in his driving (and I do, this is a man who has driven down Africa from north to south), I would have peered continuously over the cliff’s edge but instead I kept gazing forward, eager to see where the trail would lead.
The sign had indicated a distance of two kilometers and yet that small journey seemed a world away. “Who would live here?” we both wondered. We pulled to a stop in front of a smattering of homes, each more neglected and sadder than the next. Appropriate, as the village is called Sadde. It is what had piqued my curiosity in the first place. And then to arrive in the middle of what is already the middle of nowhere and find it abandoned…well, it was a mystery. What had happened here?
Perhaps it was the ambiance, perhaps it was tom-foolery of the light but I had trouble finding my focus.
So many locked doors and shutters closed tight.
Paint left to chip and iron to rust.
A breeze chased and found me, trembling tough flowers and vines overhead.
It sent a deep chill through my bones. All of this loss…left me feeling sadder than Sadde.
“Heather, come on up here,” Remi called to me quietly. I picked my way up a sloping stone staircase and took a sharp intake of breath.
“Nu-uh.” I couldn’t believe it for there, hidden amidst the ruins was a gorgeously renovated home, replete with a kidney shaped swimming pool suspended over the hills. It had been impossible to detect from the front but my, what a secret hideaway.
We laughed and began to see the village in a different light, especially eyeing (as we are want to do) un bergerie or sheepfold. Hmmm…we would keep the original elements of the sliding iron…
…and wooden doors but fill them in with steel-mullioned windows on the inside, add a sleeping loft, a fireplace and voila! The perfect vacation hut…
…with 360° of mountain tops for a view. Ah, not looking so triste after all, now is it?
Appearances are tricky and this particular discovery was enough to make this adventurer, lazy or no, feel a warm glow of the heart.
Have a wonderful weekend!
An oasis in the desert! I love going on these adventures with you all. Armchair traveling at it's best.
Gorgeous photos…. but the mystery. What happened to the people who lived in the village? And I wonder about the people in the new house. It's a getaway for sure, but it also seems lonely, located near the abandoned village. Is this what gentrification looks like in Provence?
It's your female instinct, Heather, which lead you always to hidden, mystery and gorgeous places. But sometimes we need a guide which logical thinking and not to get lost in our dream world. The heart shaped leaf in the last photo aroused my attention. It is an appropriate finale for a wonderful day.
I love the stories and photographs of your explorations. The pool reminds me of one in a photograph you posted over the summer, where from the top of the property one could see hardly anything but the front of the accompanying house because the hill on which it was situated fell away so fast. What treasures you two find… Appreciatively, Leslie in Portland, Oregon
I loved your previous post but was too slow making my comments so they weren't accepted. Made me sad so I am going to be quicker on this post 🙂 I was so lost in the poignancy of the photos that I was, like you, delightfully surprised with the discovery of life in the village. And, as for your ideas about what you could do with the old property; well, I scarcely expected you to return to Arles. I was almost convinced there would be another photo showing you and Remi embarking upon renovations 🙂 p.s. I know you have explained to me why sometimes your older posts won't accept my comments, but please know that if you don't see a comment from me, I am still reading and following. I am just being a little slower than usual.
What a wonderful story full of mystery and suspense! Like Robin, I thought the rusty chain and nails looked like blood. Ominous! Then that house with pool hidden away behind closed doors and windows. Living like Robinson Crusoe. They wouldn't have any trouble with noisy neighbours! I like to sometimes look up on Google maps to see where the towns are that you mention, if i haven't heard of them before. You can see quite plainly the kidney shaped pool, that you photographed!
Thanks as ever, Heather!
Cheers,
Deborah from Melbourne.
What a delightful discovery and what a wonderful thing that someone had renovated one of the houses. Let's hope that will mark the beginning of some sort of a revival for the village. We happened to drive by an abandoned village in Luguria, Italy, in April. You might be interested to have a look at my post about it here: http://amateursventuresonlife.blogspot.fi/2013/09/ligurian-ghost-village.html
Talk about "not judging a book by its cover!" I guess this whole story is kind of like life, who knows what might be just around the corner! Kristin from French Word-A-Day was just discussing lintels today and ta da, there you have a wonderful picture of one in the third photo – hope she's reading your blog today! She'll be urging you on to buy the mas and make it your own 'very private' hut!
Judi Miller
Many years ago, when we first started visiting France, we saw what we thought were "ghost villages" everywhere- shuttered up tightly in summer or winter, not a soul around. We have since learned so much! I'm truly glad that Sadde is not so sad.
Sad, Sadde, Sadie…..a letter here and there but all the differences in the world.
But how could they find, recognize, and reconstruct such beauty and then add a white resin pool chair? Ouch!