Nestled beneath the snow-covered peaks of the Pyrenees, Ariège is a department relatively unknown in France, even by the French. Whilst the owner of a small auberge there, not far from the town of Saint-Girons, I lost count of the number of people who called to ask where exactly in France the hotel was. But when you visit, you begin to realise that it is not only the French who have forgotten about this amazing region which lies along the border with Spain. It seems even Time itself has overlooked it.
Visiting in September, the initial impression is how green everything is.
Cross over into Spain or Andorra and the land turns brown, parched and weathered from the relentless sunshine. But here in the Couserans district of the Ariège, the hills remain lush and verdant, even after the heat of a French summer, shielded from the harsher weather by the Pyrenees. And in September, they are at their best. Still awaiting the first snowfall to drape the mountains, the high pastures are accessible, humble autumn crocuses providing splashes of purple and yellow throughout the fields, while those with sharper eyes might spot a red kite or two soaring overhead.
We are too early for the reverse transhumance which will take place in a few weeks’ time when the farmers bring their animals back down from the pastures where they have spent the long summer ambling from field to field, the bells around their necks making Pyrenean music. Although not as fêted as its spring counterpart which sees tourists flocking from all over France to take part in the hard work and the festivities which follow, there is still a beautiful sense of occasion surrounding this traditional movement of livestock.
"Visiting in September, the initial impression is how green everything is."