Nice high country,
Gordolasque and Boréon,
two quiet valleys
After having traveled the slopes of the Vallée des Merveilles, a little leisurely stroll is Welcome.
The valley
of the Gordolasque
Fewer dwellings, which here become chalets opulent, often isolated, farms on the side of a valley, in the middle of pastures spreading out almost as a plateau on the left bank.
the landscape does not lack a grand charm.
Here, continuing the road behind the village of Belvédère, is the almost rectilinear Gordolasque valley, which sets off to storm the slope and the massif at the bottom.
In the hollow of the big "V" that it makes flows the torrent of the same name.
It is also one of the other routes to reach the Vallée des Merveilles (see the map at the top of the "Vallée des Merveilles" page).
We are struck by the green-blue tone in the Scandinavian way, that underline the scattered firs which there still take the step on the larches clinging to the slightly higher altitudes.
Field flowers abound in the thick grass and are accompanied by hawthorn bushes, a few feet of martagon lily, airy layers of wild blueberries as on the slopes of the trail descending from the Vallée des Merveilles on the eastern slope.
Old terraced crops facilitate grazing today, or have quite simply been naturally drawn by the random and repeated journeys of the cows, around the leaping foam of the torrent.
upstream
downstream
the Gordolasque
Going up the valley, the small lake St Grat, limpid, still water, where delicate and dark impressionist nuances, is fitted out for the breeding of trout and char.
Fishing is authorized there on condition that the catches are thrown back into the water, despite the prohibition indications.
lily Martagon
A rock overlooking the valley forms a belvedere.
He allows you to take in with a glance the panorama in its tranquil splendor downstream to the South.
Lake St-Grat
downstream
We see an old beekeeper with precise and slow movements come to maintain his hives at the edge of the torrent, and perhaps to collect his mountain honey.
The Boréon valley
(before Alex)
From this time the hinterland of St-Martin-Vésubie, here is the very impetuous torrent of Boréon. The wide silver ribbon bounces against the rocks and is framed by dark forests which form a screen to be crossed before approaching it.
Unlike the open Gordolasque, with its flared banks and its greens pastures, bucolic and almost wise.
The Boréon falls asleep in the reservoir of a hydroelectric dam. To regain its vigor below towards Vésubie.
The undergrowth on the edge of the reservoir is very busy; since the heat wave is raging elsewhere, and therefore "it's summer", many have adopted a summer outfit, yet quit to endure a little wind here chilly ...
Of starting point of the peaceful lake, a path runs along the steep road upstream, passes at the foot of tall artificial columns of climbing, very popular with enthusiasts from all over the world, then in front of the famous Parc des Loups du Mercantour, called "the Alpha park".
Impossible in any case to see them from the outside, behind the high doubles barriers.
Away from the road, a slightly worm-eaten wooden bridge thrown across the winding torrent allows you to approach a rural path in the middle of wilder nature.
So wild that it is at a certain moment no longer possible to progress, at least on this right bank of the torrent.
A hunting dog has lost its master, a fisherman perhaps passed on the other side.
Distraught he runs along the banks, nose in the wind, tries to cross the torrent on rocks or a trunk lying across the water, but does not succeed, resumes the path in all directions at high speed, totally panicked by this broken link with his master.
During this sunny weekend, many visitors come here to picnic, often with the family at the edge of the torrent, in the side undergrowth, a few steps from their vehicle, parked as close as possible to the camping table and the king size cooler ...
Because you have to know how to save steps.
Some abandon themselves to a nap; yet around, children are playing and shout.
Others, younger and more reckless, feel the cold water of the torrent without however venturing there.
The grass and the meadows are so flowery that we would like to roll in, ... if you weren't afraid of stones and kidney towers.
