Picardy Bike Tour

Like most towns in the country, as soon as you move beyond the boundary of development you are in.......the middle of nowhere.




Here I am arriving at the outskirts of Largny sur Automne where I encountered the aptly named Moulin de Largny sur Automne.




The moulin was built in 1516, destroyed in 1532, rebuilt in 1645 and in near ruins again in the 19th century at which time it was being used as a scale to weigh beets. I have absolutely no idea how one turns a windmill into a device to weigh beets, or even where the idea would come from, but apparently there was some expert on doing just this in the old days. It was a ruin in 1973 when the owner of a stone quarry and some friends decided to undertake its restoration. New metal wind fans were added and to turn them a motor from a Peugeot 203 and some Renault and GMC truck parts were used. Good thing this town has a windmill because that's pretty much all there is to see. Similar to most other small towns I visit, the inhabitants were invisible and thus I have no pictures of them. Here, I'll prove it to you.





Don't see anyone do ya? Ha! I told you so.


Leaving Largny sur Automne I entered what I would describe as a beautiful forest. Other fancy pants writers would describe such a forest with all kinds of flowery moon in June type superlative language but what's the point when you've got a picture




The forest broke to reveal a short stretch of a few attractive country homes.

Knowing about history is all fine and well but I wanted to get behind the walls to have a close up look at this pretty cool donjon and château. I rode this way and that way along the length of the wall looking for a gate or some sort of opening until I came to a sign directing me to follow a dirt trail to the bottom of the hill. All that pedaling uphill only to be redirected back down to the bottom was not what I was hoping for. It was all pointless anyway since the château didn't open until 2:00 in the afternoon and it was maybe around noon while I was there. This was the only picture I was able to get which adequately showed any portion of the donjon. The adjacent château was impossible to photograph.




Aside from the photo of the top of the donjon I took from the village there didn't appear to be any other viewpoints from which to get an appropriate picture of the donjon so I just took off down the road to continue my journey. Good thing I turned to look over my shoulder one last time or I would have missed this.






Turning back around and off I go.




Next the map showed a ruin called Abbaye Royale Notre-Dame de Lieu-Restauré. What is left of it dates from the middle of the 16th century. It's open on weekends from April to October and the entry fee is 3€ and free for under 14.

I biked through a village or two and perhaps a few small hamlets before arriving at the outskirts of Pondron, where there were some cows, a château, a small village and then another country road leading out of town.














I arrived at the village of Vattiers-Voisin and it didn't look like much at first.



Having acquired extensive experience in finding little tiny quaint villages due to my numerous countryside bike excursions, my built-in charm detector instinct was drawing my attention to a small row of houses uphill to my right. I sniffed out a little side street that seemed to lead up to the village area, which was essentially one east-west oriented street and that was pretty much it. But the homes were of an older vintage and well kept with lots of flower boxes in the windows and gardens and little bits of decor here and there to give it just the right look of authentic country charm.

The following is a series of photos I took riding through anonymous little towns and villages and stretches of countryside.













I was starting to get hungry and since I was in the middle of nowhere that meant I was probably going to get hungrier. I should have gone to the supermarket or a boulangerie or pâtisserie in Villers-Cotterêts and bought some food to put in my backpack but I hate weighing myself down with extra stuff, even if that stuff is meant to prevent me from ending up in my present hungry state.

If there was a restaurant around here it was after 2:00 so nothing would be open. This rarely happens in the country but at this exact moment I happened to be passing by some sort of food selling establishment. My increased expectations were lowered as I entered the building and saw a rather drab looking bulk food vending store, half of which was occupied with various cases of soda and water and the rest with mostly boxed dry goods. They had a meager shelf with a few offerings of packaged snack foods so I chose what looked to be the heartiest among the disappointing selections.

Happy to have at least something to put in my stomach I left with my package of a dozen chocolate covered gaufres (waffles). No sooner had I left the building than I noticed a little mini-golf course with a crêpe stand so over I went to supplement my diet. If you've ever eaten a tire then you know what a crêpe from a mini-golf course tastes like. At least it had nutella inside. Not the most nutritious meal but I got my essential vitamins and minerals from a bottle of Orangina. Waffles were on the desert menu but since they were a year old they mostly crumbled between my fingers. Luckily I have good manners so I was eating over the package (much like I eat over the kitchen sink) to catch the crumbs in the plastic box, making it easy to tip it into my mouth to inhale the crumbs. Nutella crêpe, an Orangina and a dozen chocolate covered gaufres packed in my stomach and I was feeling better than ever and ready to go.

I entered a little hamlet which was formerly a fortified farm that dominated the plain.






Here are the ruins of an 11th to 13th century church. Still no sign of the Roman ruins though.






Moving on to the next set of ruins.




And voilà!



Okay, now that is a little more like what I had in mind, a clearly recognizable amphitheater.





Behind the amphitheater were the remains of a Roman bath.



Just across from the amphitheater were the remains of a temple.




Further up the road I came to an area with a little memorial.








The above sign more or less says ''O' passer-by stop and take off your hat for it was here that tanks were born''.

Adjacent to that memorial was another.



This memorial is in commemoration to a certain General Estienne, known as The Father of Tanks, who set up here in 1916 a training camp for tanks. This site was chosen for tank training as it was close enough to the battlefront to deploy the tanks yet isolated enough to remain hidden from the view of the enemy. I managed to find a few old photos of the tank training in action.







Here is an official order of commemoration to a Commandant Bossut, killed April 16, 1917 at the head of his squad of tanks at the heart of the front line of the enemy. The order announces the official renaming of the road near the tank camp as Boulevard du Commandant Bossut.




Movin' on.

There was no château shown on the map but I found one anyway.








Look, a human!




And another one!




This town was too crowded for me so I left in hopes of finding another town with a bit more breathing room. Back to the road.




I entered a forested area leading me into the Valley of the Automne river, an area of fields, marshes, meadows and poplar trees dotted with villages touting churches designated as historic monuments. The churches in the area villages comprise a group known as The 35 Bell Towers of the Automne Valley.

The history of the Valley of Automne begins with a legend. Two fairies, named Urca and Altona, were sisters who looked upon a vast and fertile plain from the top of the Mountain of the Fairies. They watched over the local people, who lived happily and content without desire. Nearby was a spring, called The Fairies Spring, and each night a young virgin girl called Nora was said to block the source of the spring with a very heavy stone which only she could move. But one night as she was going to move the rock a young man approached and begged her to listen to his story about his father, a king, who died and lost his crown in battle. As the sun was setting the spring started flowing heavily and the girl realized she had forgotten to move the rock over the spring. She rushed to put it in place but it was too late. The rock was immobile and would not move, therefore, the water flowed violently and heavily and flooded the surrounding plain. All the local people, including Nora, were killed in the flood.

The two fairies prayed to the gods, but in vain, as the water kept rising and flooded them too. They were washed away, Urca to the east (or Orient) and Altona west, to the setting sun. The Queen of the Fairies flew over the mountain in an attempt to stop the spring from flooding but a violent wind blew her away. This was the end of the realm of the Fairies.

Lightning pierced the darkness and when the storm ended, as the waters withdrew they formed various valleys where now flow numerous streams. The two main rivers in the region were named after the two fairies. Urca gave her name to The Ourcq and Altona gave her name to the Automne. But Nora's soul had not risen to the sky. Thus, her shadow could be seen through the watery plants that grew in the marshes. The region is full of other local legends and various places take on evocative names, such as Pierre Sorcière (Witch Rock), Château Fée (Fairy Castle) and Cave au Diable (Devil's Cave).


Moving further up the road I looked to my left and noticed the peaked roof and spires of a château poking up behind some trees.






The château was set far back from the road and had no obvious driveway leading to it. I noticed the private property signs on its perimeter and resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be able to get a closer look. I tried in vain to uncover some background info on this château. I learned that it was called the Château de Glaignes (named after the town) but could find nothing about who built it or when. The only thing I was able to uncover was that for 30 years, up until 2006, it was the home of a choral group known as Les Petits Chanteurs à la Croix de Bois. This is a boys choir founded in 1907 that achieved notoriety and has performed before popes, dignitaries and television cameras. They are well known in France and the mayor of Paris, Betrand Delanoë, is a former member. I found some video footage of the group if you want to have a look:




Time for a look around the village of Glaignes.










Here's another one of the little churches for which the region is renowned.




Next to the church I spied the entry to the château after one of its residents opened the gate and exited in their car. This is just one of the buildings on the grounds, not the actual château.

Off to wander some lovely old streets and see what I find next.




I came to a big iron gate at the entry of an impressive looking building with some towers and lovely grounds. This was a place known as La Corandon. The name is a contraction of the name La Cour Randon and dates to the 13th century when the Lords of Crépy would gather their vassals here. It was also the residence of the Prior of Saint Arnoul. The present building dates to the 16th century. Unfortunately the gate was locked so I couldn't explore the grounds but I sneaked a photo through the gate.




This one little square I had been exploring was packed with historic sites, and charm. Turning around from La Corandon I headed up a gorgeous little cobbled street. On the right in the above photo is the only surviving entrance to a 17th century convent called The Ursulines, named after the religious order. In 1620 Louis XIII gave a plot of land, on which stood an ancient fortress, to a congregation of spinsters from Crépy to found a convent to instruct the young girls in town. Its status required that it be open to all girls, regardless of class. It lasted until the Revolution when it was sold as national property. Here is the doorway.














Moving just a couple of blocks from The Ursulines I came to an impressive medieval castle perched on a small cliff overlooking the valley below. I walked to the edge of the cliff to get a look.




To my right I could see The Towers of Valois, the old keep/donjon, and behind me was the 13th century Château of the Ducs of Valois. It is known as Le Vieux Château (old château) and is attached to the 12th century Saint Aubin Chapel. The Old Castle was part of the Mansion of the Keep, the seignorial dwelling of the younger branch of the Valois family, and is what remains of a larger palace complex. Later it served as the Bailiff's Office for the Duchy of Valois.







The château is now the home to the Museum of Archery of the Valois Region. It's open every day, except Tuesday, from 2:30PM to 6:30PM. I was too early for a visit but I would have liked to have gone inside.