The activist who fought for Sierra Leone's first World Heritage site
"I feel very happy, relieved, hopeful," the environmentalist told AFP from the verdant island, ahead of the announcement.
The Gola-Tiwai complex, which also includes the nearby Gola Rainforest National Park, will be Sierra Leone's first UNESCO site.
UNESCO director general Audrey Azoulay called Gola-Tiwai "a jewel of biodiversity, a sanctuary for rare species and a model of community management."
The wildlife and fauna in the two areas have been imperilled for years by threats such as deforestation.
Tiwai island, located in the Moa river, measures just 12 square kilometres (4.5 square miles) and has 11 species of primates -- including the endangered western chimpanzee, the king colobus monkey and the Diana monkey.
In 1992, Garnett, who has dedicated his life to environmental projects in west Africa, created the Environmental Foundation for Africa (EFA).
In the early 2000s, he started working to save Tiwai. Today, the wildlife sanctuary is a gleaming success story for Sierra Leone.
Even as the country descended into civil war or was ravaged by Ebola in 2014, Garnett was able to stave off deforestation, poaching and other threats.
Raising the alarm
As well its primates, Tiwai has animals such as the pygmy hippopotamus and the critically endangered African forest elephant.
While Gola is the largest expanse of tropical rainforest in Sierra Leone, Tiwai, located to the south, serves as a centre for biodiversity research and a destination for ecotourism.
In order to achieve this for Tiwai, EFA had to convince local communities to abandon certain activities to protect the forest.
The tourism revenue in turn helps provide jobs, training and technical agricultural assistance.
During the civil war, the island's wildlife was almost decimated, but Garnett, his NGO and donors brought it back from the brink.
The centre's structures had become dilapidated, the ground covered in empty rifle cartridges and people began logging trees, Garnett said.
"We raised the alarm that this place was going," he said.
The environmentalist quickly found funding for reconstruction and raising awareness among local communities.
'Country is grateful'
Since then, Garnett and his group have safeguarded the haven despite an onslaught of Ebola, Covid-19 and disastrous weather.
"Our lives and livelihoods and cultures and traditions are so inextricably linked to the forest that if the forest dies, a big part of us dies with it," he said.
An avid cyclist and yoga enthusiast, Garnett's warm, welcoming approach has easily won him allies.
"One of my first experiences in life was having a forest as backyard and recognizing the richness of it," he said.
Garnett was born in 1959 in the rural district of Kono in the country's east, and lived there until age 18.
After studying agriculture and development economics abroad, he returned home in the 1990s to reconnect with his family and help Sierra Leone during the war.
He began working in environmental protection after witnessing the conflict's destruction and its reliance on mineral resources and mining, particularly diamonds.
For 30 years, he and foundation colleagues have travelled the country confronting traffickers and conducting community meetings.
Over the past 20 years, EFA has planted more than two million trees in deforested areas across Sierra Leone, Garnett said, including 500,000 between 2020 and 2023.
The country's environment minister, Jiwoh Abdulai, told AFP he was "really excited and thrilled" about UNESCO's decision, adding that Garnett gave him a lot of "hope and optimism".
His contributions preserving nature are something "that the entire country is grateful for", he said.
© 2025 AFP
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France 24
11 hours ago
- France 24
Lesotho's jockeys saddle up for mountain horse racing
Spectators lining the ridges cheered on the riders as their horses sprinted down one of Africa's highest tracks, more than 2,200 metres (7,200 feet) above sea level. Horse racing in Lesotho, a country ringed by South Africa, is not just a sport, it is a cultural carnival where wagers are the real blood sport. This weekend's edition in the village of Semonkong in central Lesotho carried extra weight; it was the premium fixture of the season and timed to mark King Letsie III's birthday. Preparations started before the crowd arrived, with the horses, also wrapped in blankets and balaclavas to keep warm, walked to the arena in song and dance, then brushed and fitted with weather-worn saddles for their races. Being 'focused' For many jockeys the track is a rare escape. The country of around 2.3 million people ranks among the world's poorest, its rich mineral wealth overshadowed by sky-high youth unemployment and a troubling rate of suicide. The textile-dependent economy faces further gloom, with fresh uncertainty following tariffs announced by the administration of US President Donald Trump, who earlier this year mocked Lesotho as a place "nobody has ever heard of". The unspoken rule is that you have to forget all your problems or you will fall, jockey Tsaenh Masosa told AFP. "You have to be focused," said the 21-year-old hotel employee, layered in white, pink and blue jackets. Races stretch between 800 and 1,200 metres across a rugged mountain terrain that tests both the rider and horse. Winners pocket up to 1,500 loti ($85) per race, a significant payday in Lesotho, where more than 36 percent of the population lives on less than $2 a day, according to the World Bank. At the trackside, most bets are simple showdowns -- punters backing one horse to outrun another, rather than the overall race winner. There are no tickets or betting slips, just fistfuls of cash, tense stares and quick payouts as money changes hands the moment one horse edges out another at the finish line. Horses over football Horses first arrived in Lesotho with European settlers in the 19th century, and over generations, crossbreeding gave rise to the sturdy Basotho pony -- mid-sized, tough and known for its endurance. These ponies, along with cross-breeds and thoroughbreds from neighbouring South Africa, now make up the racing stock. But beyond the track, horses remain part of daily life. In the mountains, they are still used to herd sheep and goats, or to reach remote villages where no roads go. That deep connection runs through the culture. "All the people from Semonkong prefer horse racing to football," said 39-year-old maintenance worker Andreas Motlatsi Mojaje. On the dusty oval, Masosa is still chasing his first win. He has raced seven times, coming closest with a second-place finish, but that has not dulled his hunger.
Euronews
14 hours ago
- Euronews
Kissing black bread: Fine dining on the shores of Estonia's capital
You will find plenty of restaurants in the quaint UNESCO-protected old town of Tallinn that serve what they term as authentic or traditional cuisine. Dishes range from Ahjus Küpsetatud Karuliha (stewed bear) to Külmroog (Baltic herring) and the very tasty Sea Suitsuvorst (smoked pork sausage). This selection demonstrates Estonian cuisine's status as a gorgeously nuanced palimpsest of influence and adaptation. Bear dishes come from a northern forestland tradition common across Russia, Finland and Sweden. Pickled or cured Baltic herring owes more to Scandinavian preservation techniques picked up during centuries of trade within the Hanseatic League than to a uniquely Estonian gastronomic history. And the smoked pork sausage is robustly Germanic. The old city caters admirably for an increasing number of tourists. But if you want something a little bit more interesting, you'll need to head to the sea. The former industrial harbour area of Noblessner became a gastronomic hub over the last decade. The name is a hybrid of the surnames of Emanuel Nobel (nephew of Alfred) and Arthur Lessner, who founded the Russian Empire's flagship submarine factory in 1912. Part of what was once that factory is now dedicated to cuisine, although you can still see some wartime ephemera saved for character. In another of the collective's restaurants, the Asian cuisine-inspired UMA next door, you can dine beneath the ceiling-mounted rails from a century ago, as well as navigate your way via the colour-coded tiles that workers used when the factory was open to avoid falling submarine parts. "In 2011, we started off with farm-to-table. And we were really taking this very seriously," admits Kristjan Peäske, co-founder of Lore Bistro on the portside in Noblessner. The engaging sommelier and restaurateur appears to have raced nobly into sustainable cuisine at his first restaurant, 'Lieb' (black bread), and then, seeing those parameters juxtaposed with the longevity of his outlet, right out the other side. Agriculture in a climate like Tallinn's, at nearly 60° north, may only provide limited local ingredients for an upmarket dining menu. "We even felt a bit embarrassed if we wanted to use lemons. We said we need to use local apples, for example. This path for us was about 10 years, and as time went on, we felt like it was very difficult for us to be creative with the narrative we made for ourselves. And also, we felt a bit bored of what were doing. We do still take good pride in what is locally grown, but at the same time, we felt like if we're not having fun anymore, there will be a point when our guests will not have fun either. So actually, although the restaurant was very successful financially, we decided to close it." While the pandemic led many hospitality operations into closure, the return of a former sous chef due to COVID led to a fortuitous meeting between Peäske and the partner she brought back with her to Tallinn, Hiroaki Takeda. He had been working in the fermentation team at Copenhagen's Noma and was keen to bring his ideas to Peäske's Estonian projects. "We said we still want local to be central, but you can do whatever you want to combine that with your experience. And we are not that much into ethos anymore, so if you want to bring something from wherever in the world you want to enhance our local flavours, you're more than welcome to do so," explains Peäske, taking a seat opposite the welcoming fireplace flanked by spinach-green tiles. Thus, much like its post-Pagan history, the colours of others began to be superimposed onto Estonia's cuisine. Black Bread and Fur Coats But what are the staple elements of Estonia's gastronomic history? "It starts with a bit of black bread. For example, when I was a kid, when it fell onto the floor, you were supposed to kiss it and put it back," he explains. "That's how seriously it was taken, because not respecting your bread, we had this strong belief, would mean you ended up starving." "How we got all the nutrients into our body was a thing called kama. Kama pretty much is mixed flour, and you have there everything from wheat, barley, to peas," Peäske continues. "So now you have this flour, and then you put it together historically with sour milk due to the bacteria in it being good for gut health, but today you'd use kefir. Fish and meat were only really for celebrations if we're speaking historically, but the longtime German influence make pork and sauerkraut a staple." Goat cheese cream, trout roe and beef tartare are the three small plates in Lore's showcase and the first of them, Peäske admits, has no original source. Accompanied by pickled grapes, caramelised walnuts, and pomegranate, the cream is surprisingly bright. The second dish, trout roe with charred potato, egg, mustard stems, mayonnaise, and herbs, does have a story. "It's inspired by a dish called 'Kasukas', meaning 'fur coat'. It's all about having layers and comes from Slavic culture where you have layers of beetroot, egg, and herring, and you have your sour cream, and your mayo in between these layers. Historically, you wouldn't have made it with fish roe, but potatoes is essence in Estonia, so they're still in there. We made the mayo with mustard seeds to give it more punch, and instead of herring, we are using trout roe." Estonia is very proud of its new potatoes as they grow slowly in these conditions, taking their time to reach perfection, but out of season, chefs have to use a bit of flair to give them character, such as the charred example here at Lore, or give them more depth through fermentation. The roe, which is provided in abundance, gives an exciting pop. Eating here is relaxed, fun and heartily recommended. Finally, grass-fed beef tartare with sesame seed cream, hazelnuts, Jerusalem artichoke and asian-style dressing is very much without borders, but at the same time gives a nod to the virtues of sourcing locally. "If the beef comes from South America, then they take down part of the Amazon to get the grassland, but also they need room to grow the grain to feed the animals. I agree you get a great flavour, but the process has been environmentally traumatic," Peäske outlines. "In Estonia, we have historic, natural grasslands that are protected by the EU, and have cattle that eat only grass, and because of the life cycle of the cattle farming process there, many elements offset the carbon footprint, leading, according to some studies, to a positive carbon impact." 180° Carbon impact may concern many visionary chefs, as exemplified by the burgeoning number of Michelin Green Stars across Europe, but it's not central to everyone's philosophy. After making the one-minute journey along the harbour periphery, we find an entire menu of dishes without borders, as superstar German chef Matthias Diether's restaurant 180° showcases a complete 180° deviation from the espousal of a farm-to-fork mentality. "When you have it, then I would use it, but I don't have it," says Diether, sipping his customary glass of energising champagne before service begins. "I don't need to feel bad because I'm not looking at this as a priority." "I think all the chefs are a little bit fetishistic about the products," Diether goes on. "You want to have the best products, the freshest products. I don't care if it's from here, it's local, or it's from France, or it's from Belgium, or it's from Holland. I just order them and I want only the best of the best." I was tempted to ask about the potatoes that his neighbour Kristjan Peäske was celebrating earlier, but I didn't have to. "With vegetables, it's different. It's fantastic," he enthuses. "During the long, long daytime with the light, it's fantastic. Fruit, vegetables, and dairy products, that's all really good here. Colourful history As a native German, Diether is aware of the Teutonic influence on Estonia as well as other historical influences. "What is Estonian food? Estonia was every time coloured by somewhere else. It never was free. It was the Russians, was the Germans, was the Danish. Occupied," he explains. "But what I present is actually the modern, the modern cuisine. Why Estonia is modern. Estonia is very, very young, as a country, and that fits with what I do." What we do find at this stunning two Michelin star institution, perhaps surprisingly, is a paring down. Clear lines of interior design reflect the chef's self-confessed gear change towards an increased simplicity in the kitchen. 'Too many flavours before,' he laments. "Now we have three ingredients per course only." While Diether goes off to lead his team in the evening service, I am directed to another wing of the restaurant by Maître d' Tom, who moved back to Tallinn from the UK a year ago and is the epitome of friendly assurance. Low-fi beats fill the tasteful lounge area, and a flaming centrepiece warms the chocolate and cream tones. Snacks arrive. Sturgeon and potato borscht is first, and I'm given a pretty mottled German-made spoon to aid my discovery. On top is the tiniest potato soufflé. The flavours are warm and smoky with an almost hickory hint. These warning shots prepare me for very exact, delicate cooking. Liquid nitrogen chives and crème Fraiche pearls top a mimolette cheesecake. I manage to extract the tiniest pearl on its own to ravish in secret. It is more full of flavour than I could ever have expected. A cheese and oxtail combination beneath is an example of haute cuisine's ability to refer to comfort food while adding elevation and design. Diether's expertise in the French school is immediately apparent. The potato consommé is packed with flavour, and I suspect I will be having to find synonyms for that all evening. Foie gras with hazelnut is sandwiched between tiny German waffles, and a tomato marshmallow with Comte is both cute and powerful. Walking through into the main room, one is immediately struck by the size of the windows and the vast seascape beyond. The open kitchen echoes the spacious feel. Starters on the left, pastry at the top, mains on the right, and Matthias Diether conducting proceedings. A headmaster and a jolly uncle in one. He watches the sous chef cook the Normandy scallops with a steady eye. They work quietly and efficiently with the occasional burst of instruction. It's truly clinical, but in no way is it cold. Kevin, the sommelier, is immediately engaging and pitches the chat perfectly. A flamethrower comes out for the buttered scallop on a base of pickled cucumber, kimchi ice cream (wow) and dashi jus with coriander oil. Daikon cooked in brown butter, compressed radish in coriander oil and fermented radish complete the picture. Three protagonists, scallop - radish - kimchi, but artistry and nuance all over them. It's a banging first course with a classic wine choice with a freshness that stands up to the umami notes in the dashi juice. Chablis. It's 7 pm and still light. Through the enormous wall of windows, I see the late rays of light coat the harbour walls as the blue Baltic dapples its way into evening. Fish, veal and naughtiness The next dish presents two perhaps unlikely bedfellows: Sea bass and Calf's head. Behold, sea bass mousseline with artichoke and basil on top in an oxtail consommé featuring veal head to provide the requisite 'naughtiness,' says Diether. Again, warm and punchy flavours - just a river of soft loveliness coursing through the mouth. This is beginning to represent the best food I've ever eaten. The character of sea bass is fully present, and the calf head is as naughty as it gets. There's veal cheek here in little pieces, too. I suspect this would usually be paired with a red, maybe a Gamay, but sommelier Kev has made a bold and brilliant choice. The Godello is very full-bodied and oak-aged, which helps support the calf's head ragu while still matching credibly with the sea bass due to its fruit. The nose is smoke, toffee apple and, oddly, banana. The palate is fat, yet acidic and full of autolytic notes. It even responds to the herbs. A fully-realised pairing that you should all come to Tallinn for. Germany's loss is Estonia's gain. A smoked eel dish with goose liver and rhubarb goes some way to demonstrate how the chef gets such powerful flavours. The foie gras terrine is marinated for three days in different alcohol reductions, including cognac; the jelly is preserved with Perigord truffle, and the eel tartare is seasoned with light vinegar and shallots. And the rhubarb mousse is pleasingly rhubarb-shaped. Truffle jam sits between goose liver and smoked eel parfait and the whole piece sits in a soup of red cabbage, calvados and apple. Simplicity here is in the concentration of star flavours, not in the preparation or design. The heartiness of the powerful eel is given an injection of neon by the almost celestial brightness of the beetroot and apple soup, like a sweet and savory ice cream in its texture and fruitiness. I've never had anything like it. Running like clockwork At 8 pm, the sky is light purple and the sea takes on a metallic tint. The people-moving here is a lesson in ergonomics, where the lounge acts as a holding bay for later reservations to avoid any hint of congestion. "You never should have to panic," says Diether. "If you panic, you make mistakes." The next plate has me running out of superlatives. Immaculately seared pigeon is soft and juicy. The salted morel and marinated cherry make it sing. I don't want this dish to end, so I sit back between mouthfuls to drag it out. Profound cooking. Standing up to this wonderful dish is a special wine from Bodega Chacra in Patagonia. The estate was founded in 1999 by Piero Incisa della Rocchetta, a member of the family who created the famous 'super-Tuscan' wine, Sassicaia. Kevin pairs the pigeon with their Barda cuvée made from Pinot Noir. It's only 12.5% but has so much flavour, partly due to lower yields. A vibrant redcurrant, cranberry and blackberry nose translates to the finish with an added minerality. The chef's table is quite a calming experience. Like watching clockwork through a macro lens. A hagiography of beef and onion follows, accompanied by a 2018 Brunello di Montalcino. Graphite and iodine, cherries, resin, charred wood, and smoke. Spatzle on the side situates this firmly in Diether's old hunting ground. For dessert, we have a variation on the famous Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, or Black Forest Gateau. Chocolate with cherry compote and vanilla ganache. A super-reduced cherry sauce and popcorn made from milk and cream in liquid nitrogen make up the melange. The dish was created in collaboration with celebrated patissier Kay Baumgardt, whom pastry chef Lisa described as a mentor. The cherry reduction is blinding. Concentration of flavour once again. Industry crisis? From one of the ten seats at the open kitchen counter, all you see is beauty, space, precision, light and satisfaction. But the global context brings an unwanted flavour to proceedings. This is the only 2-star restaurant in the Baltic, but even this place is feeling the pinch in 2025. "We're going through a very tough time. This is a real challenge for the whole hospitality industry," Diether admits. "Cost of living crisis; how the work/life balance of the employees is changing. This time last year, I was any night of the week with 40 or 50 covers. And now it's struggling. It's half." Despite Tallinn's international tourism being very much on the up, the impact of the pandemic has seen people move from the city to less expensive accommodation in more rural areas. Not only that but rising food costs and a general increase in living costs can lessen the number of consumers comfortable with the top-end price point Does that spell the end of fine dining, I ask him? A cheeky smile and a chuckle. "No, no, no," he waves it off. "Fine dining never ends."
Euronews
17 hours ago
- Euronews
What makes France's Loire Valley a world heritage wonder
If the famed French writer Victor Hugo had visited the Château de Chambord today, it's safe to say he would have been over-sharing it on Instagram. After travelling there for the first time, he wrote: 'Can you imagine, dear Paul, that ever since I saw Chambord, I have been asking anyone and everyone: Have you seen Chambord?' Standing before it myself, I know just how he felt. Looking up at this fairy-tale castle, crowned with its carnival of cream-and-grey turrets, I want to tell everyone about it too. Commissioned by François I in 1519 and eventually completed in the 17th century, it is considered a masterpiece of Renaissance architecture. At its centre is a double-revolution staircase inspired by Leonardo da Vinci. While Chambord is arguably the most famous, every one of the celebrated châteaux in the Loire Valley, of which more than a hundred can be visited, has its own individual charm. Then there are the renowned vineyards, the historic towns and the flower-filled villages. And, at the heart of it all, is the longest river in France. A world-renowned destination It's perhaps no surprise then that a vast swathe of the Loire Valley was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2000. That makes this year its 25th anniversary. Spanning 174km from Sully-sur-Loire to Chalonnes-sur-Loire, it's one of the largest listed sites in the country. This also means it's nigh-on impossible to see everything in the UNESCO area on a single trip, let alone the wider region, but what better excuse to plan a return visit? Especially as it all begins just an hour's train ride from Paris. If you're coming from that direction, an ideal place to start is in Orléans, sometimes described as the gateway to the Loire Valley. Among the oldest cities in France, it was famously liberated by Joan of Arc from the English siege of 1429. Even today, her presence is everywhere – from the imposing statue in the main square and the street bearing her name to the stained-glass windows in the Gothic cathedral of Sainte-Croix. This relaxed riverside city is also known for its attractive waterfront, Renaissance buildings and vibrant street art. Here, names such as M. Chat, Tag Lady and MifaMosa are uttered with almost the same reverence as Joan of Arc herself. I'm also tempted by the various museums – and, in particular, the intriguing-sounding tours taking in the city's subterranean spaces. Today, however, we are visiting the last surviving vinegar maker of Orléans. The city became famous for its vinegar in the Middle Ages when the slow-moving shipments on the Loire meant the wine would sometimes sour. Founded in 1797, Martin-Pouret continues the tradition to this day. As well as their boutique in the centre, which sells specialist vinegars alongside other products like mustard and sauces, they offer tours of their workshop just outside the city. On the trail of châteaux The next morning, we make the half-hour journey to one of the more unusual castles on our list, Château de Meung-sur-Loire. Known as 'the castle with two faces', while one side maintains its medieval exterior, the other has an 18th-century façade in salmon pink. Outside, a dragon-themed trail features impressive animatronics, including a 14m-long basilisk, while a zen-like rose garden emanates calm. Beyond the châteaux, another must in the Loire Valley is a vineyard visit. As one of France's leading wine regions, there's an impressive diversity – from Sancerre's flagship whites and Saumur's sparkling varieties to Chinon's highly regarded reds. Back at Chambord, they are now producing their own organic, hand-harvested wines, reviving an age-old tradition on the estate. During the 'obligatory' tasting, a sparkling rosé called La Favorite lives up to its name. That evening, keen to connect with the river itself, we take a boat trip on the Loire in a traditional wooden vessel. For this, we join an excursion with Moments de Loire, whose knowledgeable guide teaches us all about the river's ecosystem. Although we don't spot the resident beavers, we do spy brightly coloured dragonflies and a huge heron swooping past. Where gardens meet fairy tales For garden lovers, the nearby Domaine de Chaumont-sur-Loire shouldn't be missed. Alongside its remarkable château, once home to Catherine de' Medici, the estate hosts the International Garden Festival. This year's theme, 'Once upon a time, in the garden', has yielded some magical results. It's also well worth making the detour south to see the Royal City of Loches. One of the finest fortified cities in the country, it has an ensemble of architecture that began around a thousand years ago. At its heart is the Royal Lodge, once favoured by Charles VII, and a medieval keep that's among the best preserved in Europe. Not too far from here, the village of Montrésor – officially one of France's 'most beautiful' – offers picturesque streets, a verdant valley and, yes, a lovely château. Also, look out for the statue of the 'Fallen Angel' by Constantino Corti. Its haunting beauty drew the admiration of Sir Mick Jagger, no less, who has a home in the region and can occasionally be spotted buying a baguette at a local bakery. On that note, if you're seeking a bite to eat in this corner of the Loire Valley, the eco-friendly restaurant of DorDinAire, in Nouans-les-Fontaines, is hard to beat. Run by the charming Valérie and Thierry, they offer sensational seasonal dishes made with local produce. The Da Vinci connection For our final day, we visit one of the region's best-known landmarks: the Château Royal d'Amboise. Overlooking the Loire, this 'palace on a promontory' was a favourite of the French kings. With its Renaissance splendour, panoramic views and aerial gardens (designated a 'Jardin Remarquable'), I can see why. This is also the final resting place for Leonardo da Vinci, whose tomb can be found in the exquisite little chapel of Saint-Hubert. In contrast to a certain painting at the Louvre, we are practically the only people there. At the nearby Château du Clos Lucé, where he spent his last days, his life is celebrated in one of the area's leading cultural attractions. We then make a sojourn south again, back towards Loches, to squeeze in a visit to Chédigny. The only village to have the status of 'Jardin Remarquable', it is home to one thousand rose bushes, among many other plants and flowers. The annual Festival des Roses comes highly recommended, as does lunch at Le Clos aux Roses with its wisteria-covered terrace. Au revoir, not goodbye Later that afternoon, for our last stop-off, we head into Tours. Here, we find a city buzzing with locals, students and visitors, enjoying the rich heritage, eclectic mix of shops and array of museums. I make a mental note to return for the cathedral of Saint-Gatien with its flamboyant façade, the atmospheric exhibition space of Hôtel Goüin and a yoga session atop the Tour Charlemagne. For now, we indulge in a gastronomic tour with the lovely Sheena from Food Tours in Tours. A highlight is the lively square of Place Plumereau with its timber-framed buildings surrounding canopied tables. We end at the Guinguette de Tours, where we sip local wines as people sway to the sounds of swing and the sun sets over the river. It's been a whistlestop tour but a wonderful week. My only regret is that I wish I'd seen more. Next on my list is the troglodyte caves, the riverside cycle route and a visit to Blois. In the meantime, like Victor Hugo with Chambord, I'll be asking anyone and everyone: Have you seen the Loire Valley?
