Showing posts with label Vendee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vendee. Show all posts

Saturday, June 1, 2019

Sea Salt from Les Valencières


Emmanuelle, our hotel’s tour guide took us to visit one of many Vendée area marais salants, or wetland salt farms. Along the road we passed once-rectangular, now overgrown marais salants, as well as active ones. When we arrived at Les Valencières and met the salt farmer, or saunier, we learned that he had restored an abandoned marais salant to create his working salt farm.








 





We could see the picturesque village of Bouin from Thierry Odéon’s sea salt salorge, the hut where he keeps his tools and sells fleur de sel. We all sat inside the salorge while Thierry explained his process.
Although harvesting salt from the ocean has a science to it, the method is a simple harnessing of nature’s gifts in nature’s time. Grids of basins are dug so that high tides can deposit saltwater in the basins. Both sun and wind are needed to evaporate the water, leaving white salt, which the saunier then rakes up. The earth in this region is rich in a gray clay that enhances evaporation, so Thierry creates his grid of trenches from that gray clay.

 








Thierry controls the flow of water with a very simple, primitive really, method of plugging and unplugging a hole in a tiny écluse, or lock, with a weather-beaten wooden stick. In this photo, you can also see gray clay, dry and cracked during low tide. The deep-green, low plant growing in the clay is salicorne, which we broke off pieces of to eat. It tasted salty with a nice crunch.















A few interesting tidbits unrelated to the business … Black and white wading birds called avocettes find shelter from their predators in the salt marshes because foxes don’t like salt. Fish find the marais salants’ basins way too salty, so they are not a problem for sauniers.

On our way back to the hotel, we got even better at recognizing abandoned versus active marais salants across the landscape. And now we also recognized dark brown salorges dotting fields with hand-painted signs by the road inviting people to buy their fleur de sel.

Friday, May 31, 2019

Predictable floods on this causeway, Passage du Gois


Calling all fools, daredevils, and people who welcome unhappy surprises or have always wanted to pilot a submarine. The Passage du Gois challenges you to beat its rapidly rising tides. Not respecting tide timetables, or the many flashing and nonflashing red warning signs, will result in submerging your car under 12 feet of water and having to be rescued or climbing one of nine rescue poles to wait for the next low tide. This happened to five unhappily surprised people just Tuesday. Respecting timetables for low tide, you can also park your car alongside the narrow stone causeway and taking your small bucket, walk across the sand to collect edible seashells, mostly clams, oysters, and cockles to enjoy later with your favorite white wine.
Yesterday, Emmanuelle, tour guide from our hotel, drove us 2.5 miles across Le Passage du Gois—at low tide! She showed us lots of photos of inundated vehicles whose drivers dared and lost to the Bay of Bourgneuf, the waters between the mainland point of Gois and the island, Île de Noirmoutier. The island had prehistoric inhabitants, and the only means of access was by boats, which the Vikings used to attack the island’s monastery in 799 A.D. Gradually, the bay silted up, and people and animals could walk across at low tide. The Passage du Gois first appeared on a map in 1701. In fact, the name Gois derives from the verb goiser, to walk getting one’s shoes wet.

In 1780, the first buoys were installed along the causeway. In 1786, 18 balises, or rescue poles, were installed, of which 9 remain today. In 1840, regular crossings by horsedrawn carriages or on horseback were offered. From 1935 to 1939, paving stones were laid on the sandbank causeway. Finally, in 1971, a bridge, unflooded at any time of day, was built to link the mainland village Fromentine with l’Île de Noirmoutier.

Taking calculated risks on the Passage du Gois are athletes running the Foulées du Gois race at the onset of high tide and Tour de France cyclists in 1993, 1999, when one took a serious fall on the slippery surface, and 2011. And of course, intrepid tour guides like Emmanuelle.

This last photo is of an inlet at Port du Bec, just after the Passage du Gois. It is used by professional oyster fishermen. I include this photo to show the height difference between low tide, where these boats sit in the mud, and high tide, the level of the wooden piers.