IML Chantonnay (2013)
Hiking in paradise: beautiful forest, streams and lots of mud

IML stands for Internation Marching League, an organized hike of multiday hiking event which meet certain quality requirements. Well marked, food and drinks provided for, beautiful routes and very sociable. Just about every country has an IML-hike and some hikers visit them all. I am not that fanatical, but now and again I do enjoy the buzz of the crowded hiking parties. This time I was in France. Every IML-hike had its charm and I have enjoyed them all. But Chantonnay…wow! What an impressive nature. Such wonderful trails. Tall grass and soggy mud, countless private properties and homemade bridges. An abundance of flowers and songbirds. So incredibly pretty. For a hiker enthusiast it doesn’t get any better.

Day 1, 42 km
Busses drop us off at an mansion, far outside Chantonnay. Theo immediately sets a brisk pace and joins Belgian Martin. Marleen is somewhere ahead of me, while Dirk, Harrie and Tinie disappear in the many hikers behind. We start out with wide sandy paths and gravel, swirling along the hills. The sun is nowhere to be seen, but it’s warm and wonderful weather for hiking. After about three kilometers we reach some grassy paths where yellow gorse blooms and I am happy by boots stay reasonably dry. On the horizon we see one of the many slender water towers that dominate the hills. With a few stiles we reach the catchment area of LA Petit Lay, a beautifully winding stream which cheerfully ripples besides us. I have a bit of trouble enjoying myself, brooding about trouble at home, but eventually the calm of the land extends to me. So much sings, so much blooms. The forest is different than in the Netherlands. A green floor, full of purple, white and blue flowers. A pales of friendly colors, to make you cheerful and happy. Awesome. There are fords where we try to cross streams without our feet getting wet. We cross a bridge at a farm and enter private property not for the last time. Graceful purple wild hyacinth nestled against a rock face, their heads humbly bowed, an attractive curl in their petals. Next to the rock I discover the remains of a brick wall and I wonder who lived here. In a boggy area I catch up to Marleen. Like me she is taking it slow: this area is simply too beautiful too rush through at a pace. Together we enjoy ourselves. We stop, we look. It’s so peaceful here. It’s so special. A tree has flattened itself along the path, but dead it is not. Four branches have grown into adult trees. Other trees curl across the path, making us bend to continue our way. After a pasture we cross a creek with a bridge made out of pallets. Shortly after we climb up to the first vehicle stop, a mobile stop, in Mouilleron-en-Pareds. There we can get anything from chocolate till sugared winegums and fruit. Drinks there are too and I take out my cup to pour something. A good way to prevent the amount of trash and it will reduce the amount of paper cups ending up in nature too. After the stop I see a French sign I can’t read and a gate which leads to some kind of war monument.  Becoming curious I discover Georges Clemenceau’s grave, a French medical doctor and politician who led his country to a victory on the Germans in 1918.

On along a wide body of water, which doesn’t seem to flow, until we reach a lock and it flows down thunderously. The edge of the pasture we are walking in is very soggy. Now it’s an effort to keep my socks dry, but by giving the puddles a wide berth we manage. As a treat we reach an area with rocks towering high above us. Overgrown with ferns and creepers their size is hardly noticeable in the forest. Not until we leave the forest and they loom large over the shrubs we are impressed.  On the other side of another lovely winding  muddy path we reach an field. Here long sheets of plastic have been drawn across the land, although I suspect it’s not asparagus growing here. Apparently the method is used for more crops, but it remains a mystery which vegetable is concealed in the earth. A nice view though. Across another pasture we descend. We get to cross a stream with stepping stones and reach the vehicle stop, where we are offered wonderful baguettes.

At this stop I meet Toos, someone I know by face and have not hiked with previously. We continue together, only braving tarmac now and again. The French want us to hike on the right-hand side of the road and it feels unnatural and dangerous. When there’s no sign to remind us, we just hike on the left side. Prior to yet another stop we pass a small castle, which hides its graceful turrets behind thick trees and a wall with red roof tiles.  We hike through a nice little tunnel, although I’m glad there’s no water in it. At Chantonnay’s edge we get to choose: the easy route or the hard one. Toos chooses the easy route, for me the hard one is the only option, those are often prettier. I am looking forward to a treat and the route builders make good on their promise. Especially when there’s a warning for slipperiness I hike a little faster in anticipation. It’s not slippy however on the slanting mud path along a creek. We wind along its bank, up and down. And old barn door bridges a very wet stretch , a bit further wooden disks lie in the wet earth as stepping stones. Halfway along the creek there’s a mud trail to the neighboring pasture. “The emergency exit” a German behind me jokes. I am hiking slowly, purely because I am loving it so much. We end up at a road where the other hikers join us again. They have missed out on some serious fun. A meadow with even more mud takes us to the last vehicle stop. After that there’s another great mud path, adorned with pallets. It pleases me, the route builders could have easily directed us to the road. Slowly we approach Chantonnay. On the horizon I see some water towers again. We hike along a road towards the city, sheltered safely by a tunnel of green, like nature’s hugging you. At a bank a rope has been stretched between the trees to help us up, but we don’t need it. We cross the tracks and go downwards on the other side. There’s another tree tunnel there, which runs for a long and winding way. After a neglected vineyard the trail deposits us at the outskirts of Chantonnay. Here we hike along a busy motorway, but I don’t blame the route builders for it, still full of joy after 40 km. you would expect to have seen the last of nature by now, but they have one last surprise up their sleeves: we hike past the stream  Mosée, where beautiful flowers grow. Still the last 3,5 km through development feel long and I am glad to reach the finish.

Day 2, 42 km
Just like yesterday we start with some tarmac, a few field edges in between to remind us this is Chantonnay. They have a reputation to uphold after all. I catch up with Martin and we hike together all day. After the first vehicle stop we get to go down, into the forest. We reach a stream and follow and exciting muddy path along its bank. Here too it’s wonderfully green with purple and white flowers. We cross the water and another hill with flowers follows. In the next forest there’s a rocky stream tumbling down a bed of stones. Now and again we have to climb through a field of buttercups, in the distance one of those water towers again. We do not encounter many other hikers, but do overtake Marleen. The day started out clouded, but now it is getting warm and underneath a blue sky we hike on. We’re lucky weather wise, because some paths would have been super slick in the rain. Even now I take a tumble on a slanting mud path. My feet slide out from under me and I lay myself down on the ground. You can hardly call it falling. I take pictures of some beautiful flowers and Martin hikes on. At the next  vehicle stop Marleen and I catch up to him, Martin and I hike on and Marleen remains behind. After this we hike a square around a meadow across a bumpy, uneven path. Love it. We come across some private property along the bank of a small river. These are places where you can’t go as a regular tourist and I enjoy the privilege of a Chantonnay hiker. No castles today, but some farms which almost look like fortresses, protected by high walls with a large and a smaller gate, of which the hinges are still visible in the walls. It must have been dangerous here in the old days, if this kind of protection was needed. There’s isn’t much life, not even in the villages we pass through we see a lot of people. There is a group of dogs lounging in the sun, only a small barker loudly defends its territory. I am getting hungry and the big rest stop in St. Hilaire le Vouhis is more than welcome. We sit on a hill near a church, right in the breeze. We don’t stay long.

After the break we hike past a field again, foil drawing lines to the horizon. After that there’s a grassy path along a river, proud trees full of mistletoe and a white band of cow parsley around their feet. When we emerge from the forest we have to cross a road, but the arrow that should be directing us into a gravel road is missing. Unsure we continue following the road until an intersection, only to receive confirmation we are at the wrong spot. Back to the gravel road, where we encounter a marker a bit further on. We descend to a wonderful wet valley. A stream crosses the path and with stepping stones we pick our way to dry land. Such a shame there are no other hikers to take a picture of now. Smiling Martin offers  to backtrack a bit. A few streams and field on we see a strange building next to the path. It turns out to be a ‘lavoir’, a communal washing place near a spring. Villagers, girls about 13 years of age, came here to do laundry. Remarkable, but also a bit inconvenient, such a long way from the village. By the time we reach the last stop, I am in need of a toilet. The sign on the wooden shack, ‘use sawdust now and again’, is such a deterrent I decide to hold on till the finish. We approach Chantonnay and where we were given the choice between easy and hard yesterday, we turn left along the track this time. We end up at the bridge and neglected vineyard. This time we do not head to the path we conquered with ropes yesterday, but turn into a different path. There we manage to stay in the forest until right before the finish.

At night there’s a dessert. A 14 km hike to a castle in Signourais. It’s a guided hike and right before the start there’s a group blowing hunting horns playing a beautiful song. To rest my feet I am walking on sandals, but they are perhaps not most suitable for the gravel roads we’re hiking on. We arrive at the castle in darkness. It’s beautifully lit. The outer walls are still intact, the courtyard is grass. Here too the buglers give a concert. At our own pace we return, a ribbon of light across the hills.