Camargue - Flirting with pink flamingoes, white horses and black bulls

Flirting with pink flamingoes, white horses and black bulls in Camargue 

 

 This is a map of the Camargue area showing St Marie at left centre. Note how much of it is actually water area.  If you look at this map, you can be excused in thinking that it’s just a series of marshlands with no towns as one does not see a major city or populace base.

A close shave!

The harsh afternoon sun beats down fiercely on a nearly full arena where we are on the 4^th of the six fight event. The young rasteurs (bull fighters) jump the fence and criss cross the arena goading their target. The menacing black bull angrily paws the sand, bellowing loudly, as he works out whom to charge. Suddenly, the bull takes off at full speed ready to gore a rasteur. The youngster does a very fast about turn, evades the bull, but still tries to grab a tassel from its horns by using a special hook like knuckle duster like device. This is Camarguese bull fighting, unlike Spanish bullfighting. In Camargue, the bulls are the heroes; in Spain, it’s the bullfighters who are adored. Spanish bulls have wide foreheads and C shaped sharp horns bred for  the torridas,  Camarguese bulls’ narrow foreheads have U shaped horns - the traditional sword can’t penetrate here. Portuguese bulls are brown, castrated and with massive shoulders. Of the 40 breeds of bulls in France, 20 breeds exist in Camargue alone!  

A rasteur comes straight at me.

The Camargue ‘course’ has strict protocol honouring the bull. The President of the Day announces the bull’s name, the herd of origin, and prizes awarded to remove the ‘attributes’ - rosette, tassels and the strings around the horns’ base. A continuous commentary blares over the loudspeakers. The bull is now within inches of the rasteur who jumps up towards me; subconsciously, at no notice,  I swing backwards. 



 

See the clip used to pluck the rosettes from the bull

 



Actually I am in the 5^th row and the rasteur is just below me – he jumped straight at the fence and the wall behind it, holding on with his fingertips to the thin ledge. The bull is acknowledged as the winner as none of the attributes were plucked. Cheered by all, he leaves the ring.  This is the Camargue; life is different. 

The author at Manade de Baumelle with its Laurier Rose bush

Camargue. Sounds Corsican rather than French. In Provence, surely not! The Camargue is in fact totally different, more Spanish than French, an integral part of Provence. I had heard about the famed white horses and ferocious black bulls of the Camargue, a large area SW of Arles and east of Marseilles. Camargue is actually a vast river delta, the largest in Europe, can be seen one of three ways – horse riding / cycling, by 4x4 so that you go into marsh areas or the toy train which covers 13 kms  of wildlife, villages and pilgrimage places. 

Considering this area is so ‘basic’, it is full of historical and nature related eco tourism – rice and wheat fields under cultivation, salt flats, grass and marshlands, 50 kms of dunes, pools and lagoons and thick fields of brush used for thatching roofs and a walking and cycling trail of 12 kms along the sea and sea dike up to the Gacholle lighthouse or 15 kms of the Mejanes trail.  In season, large bushes of Laurier Rose in bloom, a beautiful red flower similar to bougainvilleas, but far prettier. Life revolves around natural resources, religious fetes, historical monuments and sports / outdoor activities essentially featuring bulls, the sea and horses. 

From Arles to our base, Mas de Sylvereal at Sylvereal is 65 kms, ideally located between Saintes Marie de la Mer and Aigues Mortes, the two main towns. Mas means a place where horses are bred and a Manade is for bull rearing. So we were at a farm house breeding Camarguese horses.

Alain, owner of Mas Sylvereal,  a beautiful 400 year old stone building constructed on the vestiges of a 12^thC abbey, popular with large family groups who come for riding, kayaking, nature park excursions. We had beautifully furnished rooms with a breakfast comprehensively covering a range of meats, spreads, cheeses and drinks apart from the standard croissant, bread and jams. 

Alain grew up racing saddle–less Camarguese horses and now breeds them. The Camarguese horse is always born grey or dark brown in colour and only in its 5^th year, it changes becoming pure white.

 

A one year old colt commands under E1,000 but after 5 years, when pure white, its price shoots up over E6,000/-. They are shy animals and came to us only after considerable persuasion by Alain  

Fernand explaining why the flamingo is pink!

                                                

Fernand, our unusual warm hearted knowledgeable guide, speaks Camarguese French (the locals add a ‘g’ sound to the end of most words). 




For three hours, he crossed marshes and countryside showing us every element from the animals and birds to the fields and beach. He eventually  took us to his home, plied us with Pernod after the long hot drive and gifted me a unique set of horseshoes – three horseshoes welded tip to tip together! Very heavy to bring back home but well worth it due to their good luck charm. These are now carefully kept away as one of my cherished mementoes.

Waiting for their meal

The famed Pont du Gau nature reserve, part of the 150 acres of natural marshland, with many of the 350 bird species found here, has beautifully laid out walkways with well written tourist friendly explanatory panels describing each section of the spotlessly clean park.

All together now

There are a few ‘hides’ for dedicated ornithologists to study bird habitat. We saw hundreds of pink flamingoes and luckily for me, I saw them up close as it was feeding time. The flamingo’s pink colour is due to carotin from the shrimplike shellfish which it devours in vast quantities. 

Hey, thats my food!

We saw egrets, ducks, herons, owls, hawks, eagles and other hunting birds along with otters, badgers, and smaller wildlife. It is a thriving nature park and tourists respect the prerogative ownership rights of the birds.

 Huge land masses outside the reserve are owned by Ricard (the alcohol company) and Michelin ( the famous tyre company) . 

As the countryside is low lying, pump houses at major farms pump water through sluice gates across and under the roads. Mas and Manades abound along with rice fields. At Bac du Savage, we took a small ferry to reach D85a and D38a, the scenic path routes.

Here are some scenes of bulls - I climbed onto  a bullpen to catch a sight of a bull at close quarters! 

Fly heaven! 

There were two bulls, back to front in this bull pen!  Flies were all over them. There was hardly any space for them to move as they were tethered tightly.

This is how they all end up - for our epicurean pleasure! Bulls, bulls and more bulls. Rather tough to eat. 

They look cool but try getting close. You will be minced.

The capital St Maries is small – life revolves around the town centre; the Mayor’s office, the bull ring, the 11^th C church (each of its five large bells is named and totally weigh over 2,500 kgs!) and the tourist restaurants and shops are all within one square km. We got a fantastic view of the town surroundings and the beach from atop the church tower. 

 

 













 







The other nearby town, Aigues Mortes, a strange name for a town as it means ‘dead waters’, was built on a swamp in 1240 by Louis IX, the first French king to have a Mediterranean port. He left from here in 1248 and 1270 for the Crusades. 

Whilst Constance Tower, with its six metre thick walls, all that’s left of the castle, walkers like us loved the long walk around the 1,640 m long city fort walls. The view especially of the salt pans on the beach and for me, the symmetrical beautifully tiled roof tops of the houses along the walls were most memorable. The town survives on its small port, the salt industry and tourism - shops selling pottery, paintings, linen garments and other miscellanea are popular. 

As a traveller, in 1990, I read Peter Mayle’s award winning book, A Year in Provence. I finally managed to spend 18 wonderful days in Provence experiencing it to its fullest. Camargue, so different in all respects, was an eye opener and I wish I had spent more time there. “We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.” – Jawaharial Nehru

Doggie loo!

This article is dedicated to my friend Nirad who drove over from Regensburg, Germany to Aix en Provence, approx 1,000 kms (in one day) to be with me for one week in Provence. We had a great time together. Thank you, Nirad.

To get there:

·         By Train – the nearest train stations are Arles – 38 km, Avignon 80 kms, Nimes 54 kms. Montpellier 60 kms

·         By plane – nearest is Marseille – 100 kms.

·         Bus – Arles to St Marie direct bus every day. Check the schedules which vary depending upon season

·         By road – A7 from Marseille to Arles and then A 54 and D 570 to St Maries. This is the route we took from Arles.

By ferry – from Marseille to St Maries






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