La France profonde - well away from city life

La France profonde refers to rural, small-town France, as opposed to large cities and urban areas. City people retreat there for their weekends or their summers or some combination of those two. In our case, retired friends live in their family house (dating from before 1610), during the months from May to October. It's jointly owned by three sisters of our generation and there is plenty of room for all three families, spread over three generations to be together for weekends and holidays.

And for visitors too. We'd been there before and jumped at the chance to spend a weekend there between Beaugency and Lyon with our host from Lyon and her small daughter. From Lyon you take the train to St Etienne, from St Etienne you get taken up, up, up, past St Genest Malifaux along to the end of a road, where the old farmhouse house has been for centuries, added to and maintained by successive generations. 



At our largest, we were 13 adults and 5 children under 6, all of a calm and active temperament - so not too noisy but very busy. Plenty to do in the area - mountain-biking trails abound and there are plenty of places to walk as well. Eating and talking took up a lot of time, off-set by long walks and some exploring. This is quintessential France for many people. 
While the children were looked after by their grandmothers, the middle generation explored on mountain bikes and we were kindly guided around the countryside by one of the grandfathers, on long and interesting walks. 

First, past fields of what will be maize to feed the cows (Montbeliards and Holsteins), growing under a biodegradable layer of plastic which will eventually become fertiliser for the new plants after they have pushed their way through and grown taller.

Next through pine forests with walking tracks, mountain-biking tracks and cross-country-skiing tracks signposted. We crossed and also used portions of sealed road, sometimes passing houses, a number of which are made of [drumroll...] wood! From Scandinavia, I understand, and well-insulated. This is mountain country with deep snow in winter. Views of the far-off valley of the Rhone are short-lived but apparently on a clear day you can see Mont Blanc. Along a ridge, from where the waters drain into the Mediterranean on one side and into the Atlantic, via the Loire, on the other. More forest, with mossy undercover and then out into the countryside with wide views across the spring-green grass or the deep-brown ploughed fields.

Once home again, it was time for the children to eat, at a small table, all the courses that the adults would be having, including the entire cheese board. This is gastronomic education and I am all for it. The youngest (about 16 months) copied her older cousins and ate a wide variety herself, while also lining up for her own special dishes. We adults all fitted around the elongated table. Apparently there is yet another insert they can add to the table if there are more people. I don't want to lose friends, so the composition of the meals will remain unsaid, so that envy has no place. But yum, anyway!

It was cold up at 1050 metres and there was trouble with the heating in one half of the house, so when we were inside we spent most of our time in the warmer lounge and dining room. Outside, for our walks, the temperature was about 9ºC, with a stiff breeze to keep us hardy. 

Sunday morning saw us dropped off at one village while the grandfather went further on to buy our food for lunch. We followed a voie verte, converted from a railway line which had once serviced the textile industry, now smoothly sealed and available for bikes, rollerblades, wheelchairs and, of course, for walkers like us. In its earlier incarnation as a railway line it must have set the engines puffing, as it has quite an incline. 

Jean-Marcel picked us up from the end of a viaduct and took us further up the road, dropping us off again for a further cross-country walk home, giving him time to get the meal organised. This worked. Home in time for the apéritif! And roast lamb, strawberries and cream. (menu abridged). 

And while the traffic back to Lyon from St Etienne moved slowly, on this, the last day of a long weekend, from the heights of the bar car of the TGV (a good place to go if you don't have a seat), the four travellers sped by them all. A yes for public transport!