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A night on a trout farm
Feb. 8th, 2009 08:48 pmThe oddest place we stayed on our European trip last autumn - yes, oddness appears to be flavour of the weekend - was the Auberge de la pêche à la truite.
We found it in the Logis de France guide, a listing of small independent hotels, it was the only hotel listed in any of our guides in the area where we wanted to stop for the night and in retrospect, it was entirely our own fault: there was a clue in the name 'Trout-Fishing Inn'. Then again, we've stayed in perfectly ordinary hotels in Scotland where we were the only guests in the resturant not discussing where we would go fishing the following morning, so perhaps there was some excuse. The address was given as Lacroix sur Meuse; we pictured a hotel by the river. But our instructions led us out of the little town, up a side valley, further and further into the countryside, with no destination sign-posted except - finally we put two and two together - the trout farm.
We could, I suppose, have decided that no, this was not what we had in mind, and driven on. But how much further would we have had to drive? We were ready to stop. Besides, although driving into a trout farm felt wrong, not us, it was peaceful, quiet, and the wooded hillsides were all the colours of autumn. The Auberge was slightly scruffy - some loose tiles on the outside staircase up to our room, the usual slightly random electrics - and the restaurant turned out to be one of those where the menu is more interesting than the cooking. But our room was enormous, an so was the bed, with a black and chrome headboard which was pure Hollywood art deco, The bathroom was spacious, and had a window (I'll forgive a lot if the bathroom has natural light). And although instead of the broad flowing Meuse, the waterways were narrow artificial channels packed tightly into a field, it was still pleasant to stroll along the banks in the evening, and watch the shoals of fish, and be soothed by the running water.
In the morning, we woke to see the silvery mist rising from the water, and drove off in clear sunshine. Not far from the auberge I solved a mystery which had puzzled me the previous year: from time to time along the road we would pass a patch of meadow which was particularly rich in flowers - wild flowers, I'd have said, if they hadn't appeared in such sudden riots of colour. Now we passed one which was displaying a notice, and all was explained: the Jachères fleuries is a collaboration between a seed company and the local hunting associations to brighten up the countryside and encourage biodiversity.
We found it in the Logis de France guide, a listing of small independent hotels, it was the only hotel listed in any of our guides in the area where we wanted to stop for the night and in retrospect, it was entirely our own fault: there was a clue in the name 'Trout-Fishing Inn'. Then again, we've stayed in perfectly ordinary hotels in Scotland where we were the only guests in the resturant not discussing where we would go fishing the following morning, so perhaps there was some excuse. The address was given as Lacroix sur Meuse; we pictured a hotel by the river. But our instructions led us out of the little town, up a side valley, further and further into the countryside, with no destination sign-posted except - finally we put two and two together - the trout farm.
We could, I suppose, have decided that no, this was not what we had in mind, and driven on. But how much further would we have had to drive? We were ready to stop. Besides, although driving into a trout farm felt wrong, not us, it was peaceful, quiet, and the wooded hillsides were all the colours of autumn. The Auberge was slightly scruffy - some loose tiles on the outside staircase up to our room, the usual slightly random electrics - and the restaurant turned out to be one of those where the menu is more interesting than the cooking. But our room was enormous, an so was the bed, with a black and chrome headboard which was pure Hollywood art deco, The bathroom was spacious, and had a window (I'll forgive a lot if the bathroom has natural light). And although instead of the broad flowing Meuse, the waterways were narrow artificial channels packed tightly into a field, it was still pleasant to stroll along the banks in the evening, and watch the shoals of fish, and be soothed by the running water.In the morning, we woke to see the silvery mist rising from the water, and drove off in clear sunshine. Not far from the auberge I solved a mystery which had puzzled me the previous year: from time to time along the road we would pass a patch of meadow which was particularly rich in flowers - wild flowers, I'd have said, if they hadn't appeared in such sudden riots of colour. Now we passed one which was displaying a notice, and all was explained: the Jachères fleuries is a collaboration between a seed company and the local hunting associations to brighten up the countryside and encourage biodiversity.
