Latest news with #Puy de Sancy
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Travel + Leisure
12-08-2025
- Travel + Leisure
This Remote Region of Central France Has Spectacular Food and Wine—and Even More Spectacular Hiking.
It was a long way to go for a cheese sandwich. But what a sandwich! True, I'd just climbed the Puy de Sancy—90 minutes of huffing to the top of an extinct volcano—so anything would have tasted good. This was a special one, though: made with the renowned St.-Nectaire, bought outside the town in central France that gave the cheese its name. Tucked between slices of house-made bread pilfered from the hotel breakfast and savored with views of hawks drifting on mountain currents, it was better than anything I'd eaten in Paris on the first leg of my trip—and I'd eaten a lot. This was the moment I'd traveled for: a perfect bite on a stunning hike. In northern Italy's Dolomite mountains last summer, I'd discovered that the pairing of heart-racing views and happy exhaustion make every meal memorable—especially when the food offers a chance to both taste and explore the terroir. 'Hike to eat' became my new travel mantra. I had chosen Auvergne, a region in France's Massif Central mountain range, as this year's destination, because I'd been told by a trusted friend that despite the landscape's beauty (UNESCO declared the Chaîne des Puys, the region's emerald necklace of 80 extinct volcanoes, a World Heritage site in 2018), it's a long train ride from Paris, and thus largely overlooked by tourists. Friends who work in the world of food and natural wine had also raved about a hotel, Auberge de Chassignolles, and, in particular, its restaurant. The volcanic soil, they said, makes for magic on the tongue. Local cheeses at Auberge de Chassignolles. On my stopover in Paris, I noticed that some of the city's most exciting restaurants served beef from Auvergne's Salers and Aubrac cattle; cheese such as Cantal, Salers, Fourme d'Ambert, and Bleu d'Auvergne; lentils grown in the Puy region; and cult natural wines from the likes of Patrick Bouju and Marie and Vincent Tricot, who work with one of the largest concentrations of pre-phylloxera vines in France. Volvic water? From the Auvergne, too. Once I tuned in to the Auvergne, I began to see it everywhere. (Puy lentils: Now I get it!) François-Régis Gaudry's essential book Let's Eat Paris! details how the Auvergnats, following their arrival in the capital in the 1850s, came to run many of the city's most iconic restaurants, bars, and hotels—places such as Café de Flore, Les Deux Magots, and Maxim's, which are today synonymous with Parisian hospitality. The little-known region even inspired one of New York's best French restaurants, Libertine. Co-owner Cody Pruitt stocks Auvergnat water and wine, and mixes cocktails with gentian liqueur made from Alpine flowers at a bar backed by Salvador Dalí's Auvergne poster for French Railways. 'Auvergne is a little wild and rough around the edges—almost a little feral,' Pruitt told me. 'It's truly idyllic.' He's so in love with Auvergne, which he discovered through visits to winemakers, that he not-so-jokingly told his girlfriend that one day they would move to the side of a volcano. A few diners, impressed by the Auvergnat wines at Libertine, have followed Pruitt's advice to visit the area—some even DMing him selfies from outside Auberge de Chassignolles. 'I felt bad sending them into the middle of nowhere,' he said with a laugh. Luckily, they loved it. From left: Lunch on the terrace at Alta Terra; Peter Taylor, a former owner of Auberge de Chassignolles. Boarding the train at the Gare de Bercy, in Paris, my boyfriend and I got the first hint as to just how middle-of-nowhere Auvergne is. I was expecting an iteration of the station next door, the grand Gare de Lyon. Instead, the taxi dropped us in front of a squat 1970s terminal, where weeds grew from one of six platforms for trains serving the Bourgogne-Pays d'Auvergne regions. Three and a half hours later we reached Clermont-Ferrand, the region's main city and one of France's oldest, accurately described by Pruitt as being 'half ugly-industrial or generic-brutal—and not in a good way.' (The other half, he said, looked like a post-medieval village.) But once seated at a family-filled outdoor café near the dramatic Gothic cathedral, which was constructed from volcanic rock, I got a sense of the city's medieval charm. Or maybe it was my delight at the tartare of prized Aubrac beef and a bronze-capped wheel of broiled St.-Nectaire cheese, scooped up with potatoes and charcuterie. As we drove out of Clermont-Ferrand, we took note of which villages we wanted to return to. We never made it back to any of them. Chadeleuf, where our first hotel, Le Clos Dagobert, was hidden, had enough appeal to keep us strolling until our dinner in nearby Montpeyroux, a restored hilltop town from the 11th century that, off-season, was heaven to explore in the golden evening light. While multiple parking lots at the base of this former wine-making town spoke to its popularity with tourists during the summer, in early October our fellow diners in the tiny square outside the restaurant L'Art-Koze were mostly local. The plating of the dishes felt almost as dated as the town's medieval tower, but beneath all the tweezered microgreen garnishes were delicious, proper French sauces—surprisingly hard to come by these days. From left: A horse grazing near the Puy Mary; a foggy hike through the Mont-Dore ski area. In the morning, it was tempting to linger at Clos Dagobert. The restored interior of this grand 1850s building is straight out of a French interiors magazine, from the Yves Klein–blue ceramics niche to the Memphis-style toilet that you will indeed find yourself posting videos of. Even the chickens roaming the pool area were stylish enough for their own Instagram account. (Also 'grammable: their delicious, orange-yolked eggs.) Yet it turned out the young hoteliers, Marine and Alexis Raphanel, were indeed human and extremely sweet, ensuring that there was always a slice of cake in our room and dispensing advice about the region with great pride. Montpeyroux, a restored hilltop town from the 11th century, was heaven to explore in the golden evening light. But the mountains were calling: it was time to fill our napkins from the buffet and go. Being just over an hour away from the Massif Central, Le Clos Dagobert makes a lovely base for village walks. The drives toward them were stunning and nearly empty. If we wanted to pull a U-turn to photograph a vending machine selling baguettes, or stop in the middle of the road to admire a sign with arrows pointing toward cheese makers in all directions, the biggest threat was the occasional tractor or a semi hauling pine trees. Most guidebooks will tell you that to reach the top of the Puy de Sancy, the highest volcano in the range at 6,184 feet, you can take the cable car. Not during our visit, you couldn't. Our options were to hike the steep service road until we reached the main trail, or to make our way through a valley with a trickling stream and wildflowers, over a pass lined with boulders that have been pixelating into geometric shards for millennia, and up to a dramatic scramble between rock formations that my boyfriend felt certain were the setting for an episode of Game of Thrones . We chose the Cinemascope route. Then we climbed the 864 steps to the top. From left: A vending machine dispensing baguettes near the Clos Dagobert hotel; preserves, wine, and sauces for sale at Clos Dagobert. Blitzed on adrenaline at the top of Sancy, I looked out at pristine views stretching in almost every direction and was reminded that the world can still feel pure. As I wiped away sweat and tears, the landscape came into focus. I began to notice the many trails snaking through a valley, saw the red cap of a hiker on another peak, spotted another lake in the distance, and realized: We can go to that perfect place, too! And there! And there. And there… And so the Auvergne addiction began, and we began plotting our move to the side of a volcano. Several of the young restaurateurs and winemakers who've moved to the Auvergne came to their fierce love of the region through Auberge de Chassignolles. This 1930s hotel in a village tucked away among the pines was bought by a British gastropub chef, Harry Lester, and his wife, Ali Johnson, in 2006. At the time, Lester did most of the cooking himself—but subsequent owners came up with the idea to invite chefs from around the world to cook and bake and make merry at breakfast, lunch, and dinner from April through October. The scruffy charm is considerable enough that rooms are still difficult to come by, especially in summer. The exterior of Alta Terra. A few years later, for his kids' schooling, Lester moved to Clermont-Ferrand, where he now runs the Comptoir Central des Bazars, a restaurant, wine store, and ice cream shop. The auberge is now owned by Poppy Saker-Norrish, a 34-year-old winemaker who worked in its kitchen and garden in 2022. Saker-Norrish had just been accepted into a creative-writing master's program in her native New Zealand when she was asked if she'd like to take over. 'Once I was home, all I could think about was the auberge and the Auvergne,' she recalled. She has maintained its rumpled confidence and genuine bonhomie, with its nine simple, just-right rooms and the impromptu community of guests, young staff, and visiting winemakers who smoke and play foosball in the tiny town square until late. Staying at Chassignolles felt a little like having a walk-on part in a regional theater production—one in which a French staffer in a bikini top and big glasses rushes in before lunch, exclaiming over the wild mushrooms she found in the forest that morning. Those cèpes starred in an excellent risotto at lunch, and at dinner, they surrounded a quivering egg yolk perfectly prepared by Mathilde Denuncq, a young chef who had taken time off from her restaurant near Biarritz to make lovely meals, including the warm baguettes and staggering fruit compotes, pots of just-made yogurt, and jars of granola that made up the breakfast spread. The coffee's legit. The teas are excellent. And the wine list reads like a who's-who of natural winemakers, with hard-to-get bottles that make the visiting owners of Parisian natural-wine bars sigh. Chassignolles isn't about mountain treks. Each morning, we would ask the bartender/sommelier if we could borrow the hotel's floppy laminated map, and then we'd just set out in any direction. Each walk felt like a tour of Middle Earth. The trails and narrow roads were empty, all leading through forests of whispering pine trees with soft moss beds and borders of blackberry bushes and passing through occasional clusters of stone houses that seemed empty, but not abandoned. From left: Soup made with foraged mushrooms at Auberge de Chassignolles; exploring Montpeyroux, a hilltop town that dates back to the 11th century. This balance of solitude and wild, unexpected beauty quickly became a theme. One evening, the owner of Auberge de Chassignolles booked us into Court La Vigne, a restaurant in the minuscule medieval town of Lavaudieu. There we were met by a friend from Paris, who had taken the train down to join the trip. The place was breathtaking—and empty. As was the restaurant, with no one answering the door, and no one downstairs once we'd hesitantly let ourselves in. We ventured upstairs and were greeted by a vision: a room lined with life-size paintings and witchy curios, where a woman in her seventies with kohl-rimmed eyes greeted us with glee as experimental accordion music played on a loop. The kitchen, with its heart-shaped door handle, sent out duck terrine, veal with mushrooms, and rockfish with greens. There was one other couple in the room. It was so odd, so lovely, that we tipped over into church giggles when the squeaky old cheese trolley was laboriously wheeled out. Our stomachs, sore from laughter, were comforted by lemon verbena sorbet doused in gentian liqueur. Tipsy in the moonlight, we explored the town. Look at this perfectly intact museum of artisanal crafts! We should come back! We read the note on the door: it had closed for a year of renovations, beginning that afternoon. From left: Extinct volcanoes along the road to the Puy de Sancy; country pâté and fried pizza dough with mushrooms at Auberge de Chassignolles. The next day, we briefly left the eat-hike-sleep idyll to drive my boyfriend back to the train in Clermont-Ferrand. Then, in search of another hike before dinner, we used the AllTrails app to select a walk along the drive back, once again parking in a lovely, one-café village. Yet again, we were entranced by the light and storybook scenery, attracted by the beauty of shaded glades and brooks until we reached the beginnings of sunset over the cow-dotted hills. By the time we neared Chassignolles—the roads becoming ever smaller and crazier until we were convinced there could be no town at the end—the sunset demanded that we pull over to marvel. We were also curious to find the nearby house for sale whose listing was posted on the auberge's bulletin board. We were thinking like Cody Pruitt and his friend, who had e-mailed him the listing the week before with one word: 'Halfsies?' The tinkling of distant cowbells that had accompanied our hike was a Symphony in C Major. After a final breakfast—during which we both vowed, once home, to set out a bowl filled with mismatched egg cups à la Chassignolles—we headed southwest toward Cantal. This agricultural area is one of the poorest, and most sparsely populated, in France because of its isolation and dependence on fluctuating market prices. Tourism, while a promising way to reverse the area's fortunes, is mostly limited to French visitors, who go there to hike and bike in summer and ski in winter. After passing through the what-counted-for-bustling town of Murat, we stopped in the village of Dienne, enchanted by the houses' hand-cut, teardrop-shaped slate roof tiles, the 12th-century church, and the rumored presence of cheese makers. But an old man tending his garden told us that everything in the village had closed down. Only the signs remained. From left: Marine and Alexis Raphanel, owners of Le Clos Dagobert, a hotel in the village of Chadeleuf; breakfast at Le Clos Dagobert. And so we learned another lesson: if you see something open, stop! Bakeries, grocery stores, and restaurants are few and far between. Many communities lack essential services, such as schools, hospitals, and even pharmacies. That charming bread vending machine isn't Instagram bait; it's reality. Back in Murat, we found Tendances et Saveurs, a diner with a biker-bar aesthetic that happened to dry-age its own beef. We ordered our meat with a side of truffade, the regional specialty of garlicky, lard-cooked potatoes with melted cheese curd—a.k.a. the original cheese pull, a.k.a. my new favorite food, especially when served with rosy slices of local ham. 'I need a moment of silence,' said my friend, pointing her fork toward the truffade. Even the fries were perfect. From left: Preserves, wine, and sauces for sale at Clos Dagobert; bunk beds in a guest room at Alta Terra. Too early to check in at our next hotel, Alta Terra, we drove for a few more miles and took one of many trails winding up to the Puy Mary, an extinct volcano that's classified as a Grand Site de France and sees 500,000 visitors each year. Walking along a ridge path flanked by trees, we passed thick-maned horses and came upon a barefoot young woman in a tree, foraging for nuts to make oil. We kept wondering which fairy tale we had found ourselves in. Grateful for our hiking poles, we got as far as the snack bar at the base of the stairs leading up to the peak. We stood and admired the views of mountains and tree-lined valleys from beneath one of the red umbrellas that rippled in the wind outside an old-fashioned chalet restaurant and gift shop. Hikers, bikers, motorcyclists, and day-trippers all lingered, soaking it all in. The tinkling of distant cowbells that had accompanied our hike was a Symphony in C Major from the field opposite Alta Terra. On entering the century-old chalet, we were hit by the comforting scent of slow-roasting pork. A visit to the hammam and sauna coddled us further, and by the time we sat down to dinner at the communal table, where we were the only first-time guests, we completely felt at home. Co-owner Virginie Serre is as adept at steering conversation among strangers as she is at preparing delicious meals from local produce, be it a cabbage-and-chestnut salad with foraged mountain thyme or hearty squash lasagna on vegetarian nights. (Her cooking had just been featured in Le Monde .) Sleep came easily in the charming cabin for two built behind the hotel, with the sun rising from beyond the mountains as our alarm. A sustainable ethos permeates every aspect of Alta Terra, down to the reusable wrap used for the cheese sandwiches that Serre packed for the hike. After spending a few days in this pristine region, you wouldn't want to muck it up, either. After our picnic, my friend returned to her stylish life in Paris, her phone filled with addresses for next year's vacation in the middle of nowhere. After a few more formative hikes and filling meals, it was my turn to go. My last hike was comically picturesque, walking through a mossy allée into wildflower-dotted fields where cows dozed beside a stream, then up to a mountain pass, where one could keep going for days in any direction. Like the beauty of Auvergne, the options were endless. A version of this story first appeared in the September 2025 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline "Over the Hills and Far Away ."
New York Times
14-07-2025
- Sport
- New York Times
Tour de France stage 10: Ben Healy takes yellow jersey, Simon Yates victorious for re-energized Visma team
2025 Giro d'Italia champion Simon Yates took his first Tour de France stage victory for six years on Monday, winning at Le Mont-Dore Puy de Sancy on the hardest stage of the race so far. The Visma–Lease a Bike rider attacked on the final rise, fending off a brave attempt from INEOS' Thymen Arensman to close him down. Advertisement The other major storyline of the day was stage six winner Ben Healy's successful attempt to steal the yellow jersey from Tadej Pogačar. Healy effectively sacrificed his chance of a second stage win with a huge effort in the final 40 kilometers, with time gained on Pogacar his priority. Yates and Healy were both part of a 29-rider breakaway that escaped early in the day, which was gradually whittled down as a vicious parcours — featuring eight categorized climbs — took its toll. Once again there was no French stage winner on Bastille Day, but Lenny Martinez is now firmly in the polka-dot jersey after a successful raid in the Massif Central. 💪 @SimonYatess held off @ThymenArensman. A look back at the final km of this 10th stage of the #TDF2025. 💪 @SimonYatess a résisté à @ThymenArensman. Retour sur le dernier km de cette 10ème étape du #TDF2025. — Tour de France™ (@LeTour) July 14, 2025 Behind the breakaway, Yates' Visma team were proactive for much of the stage, with the American pair of Matteo Jorgenson and Sepp Kuss helping to isolate Pogacar from the rest of his team-mates by the time the GC group reached the final climb. The Slovenian was still able to attack on Le Mont-Dore but Jonas Vingegaard matched him, with the pair crossing the line together. Yates' stage win, plus a show of strength from his team throughout the stage, means Visma will head into the first rest day in decent spirits. 'I've been getting better every day since I've been here,' Yates said after the stage. If his teammates can follow suit then this edition of the Tour is far from over. Chris Waugh and Duncan Alexander analyse the stage. Find all of The Athletic's Tour de France coverage here. Or follow Global Sports on The Athletic app via the Discover tab. First of all, a thank you to Tim Spiers. 'Forget Bastille Day… today is also Black Country Day… and Ben Healy was born in the Black Country,' he messaged as the stage neared its conclusion. Healy may have become only the fourth-ever Irishmen to wear the yellow jersey, but that is due to his heritage on his father's side. The 24-year-old was actually born in Wordsley in a part of England which has been known as the Black Country since the 19th century. On the evidence of this magnificent performance, which follows his first-ever Tour stage win via a solo attack on stage 6, everyone will be laying claim to Healy. Again the EF Education-EasyPost rider got himself into a break; again he pushed the pace for large parts of this extremely hilly day to reduce the size of the front group; and, while he did not win the stage, Healy somehow managed to overturn a three-minute and 55-second gap to Pogačar and to claim the race lead. Advertisement Quinn Simmons had repeatedly tried to attack from the breakaway group. But Healy responded over and over again, dropping the American with 14 km to go. On the penultimate climb, the Col de la Croix Saint Robert, Healy even managed to maintain a five-minute-plus gap to Pogačar, setting himself up for one last effort on the Le Mont-Dore. Those 3.3 km, with an average gradient of 7.7 percent, were punishing for everyone, but especially for Healy. He kept pushing, however, and managed to somehow find the reserves to hold off and then drop Ben O'Connor. A third-placed finish gave 24-year-old Healy four bonus seconds, which ensured him a 29-second GC lead as the race heads into Tuesday's rest day, plus a one minute and 29 second lead in the white jersey competition for the race's best young rider. He is the first Irishman to wear the yellow jersey since 1987, when Stephen Roche claimed overall victory in Paris. Shay Elliot and Sean Kelly are the only Irish riders to pull on the Maillot Jaune. 'It's a fairytale. If you told me this before the Tour, I wouldn't have believed you. To wear the yellow jersey is incredible, and beyond belief,' Healy said. There have been many great storylines in this race so far, but Healy's may just be the best of them all. Chris Waugh Cliches are cliches for a reason — and French riders being inspired on July 14 is among the most established truisms in sport. This year, it was Martinez who propelled himself to new heights, cheered on by his entire nation, half of whom seemed to be on the roadside. The 22-year-old certainly has strong racing genes. His father, Miguel, and grandfather, Mariano, were professional cyclists, while his uncle, Yannick, formerly raced at the top level with Team Europcar and is now with French amateur outfit Guidon Chalettois. Advertisement Just 51 days after his 20th birthday, the younger Martinez wore the red leader's jersey at the 2023 Vuelta a Espana on his Grand Tour bow. In fact, this is only his third appearance at a three-week race and only the second time he has ridden the Tour, having made his debut last year. But the Bahrain Victorious rider has certainly announced himself to his compatriots now, getting himself into the early breakaway and then cresting each of the opening five category two climbs in first place. Even when O'Connor attacked 2.5 km from the top of the Cote de Charade, the third summit, Martinez reeled the Australian just before the top to claim the maximum five points on offer. Although he fell away later on, even suffering a nosebleed inside the final 30 km as his expenditure on a gruelling stage showed, Martinez had already achieved his primary goal. Having started the day with only two points in the King of the Mountains classification, Martinez quickly assumed the virtual lead. He held on until the end and, with 27 points, he leads Healy in second by 11. After Tuesday's rest day, he will don the polka-dots for the first time on stage 11. Even if the Bastille Day boost will have subsided by then, Martinez now has a concrete task to focus on as the race moves inexorably towards the Pyrenees. Chris Waugh It is a good job that Pogačar is a relaxed character — because he found himself worryingly isolated during an enthralling stage through the Massif Central. For the first time in 2025, the Tour entered the mountains and, while it did not exactly produce fireworks among the GC contenders, it did lead to gaps on the final 3.3 km climb up Le Mont-Dore. But long before then, Visma Lease-a-Bike attempted to exploit their numerical dominance when compared to UAE Team Emirates. Joao Almeida, Pogačar's trusted climbing lieutenant, was forced to withdraw on Sunday due to injuries sustained earlier in the race, and then, worryingly, an ill Pavel Sivakov struggled from an early point of stage 10 and was unable to help his race leader. Vingegaard was understandably keen to test his great rival and, with 30 km to go, he sent Kuss up the road. Jorgenson attempted to follow, only for Pogačar to shut the attack down, but soon the Californian tried again and managed to create a gap and join his compatriot ahead. Pogačar did not panic, however, and with Yates helping to narrow the gap, the Slovenian managed to bring the GC race back together. Time and again Visma tried late on, with Pogačar responding on every occasion, before Remco Evenepoel attempted an ambitious attack on the final climb. That, though, merely woke the beast. Advertisement Once Pogačar surged, only Vingegaard could follow. As usual. Having gapped the group behind, Pogačar settled into an even pace behind Martinez and looked at ease as he advanced towards the finish. Kevin Vauquelin was the big loser among the top 10, the Frenchman ceding 46 seconds to the two favourites and dropping to sixth from third overall. 🥵 @kevin_vauquelin gave his all to save his third place, losing 1'26" to Tadej Pogacar 🇫🇷 @kevin_vauquelin a tout donné pour sauver sa troisième place, il perd 1'26" sur Tadej Pogacar #TDF2025 — Tour de France™ (@LeTour) July 14, 2025 As they crossed the line, Vingegaard patted Pogačar's arm and then shook his hand. There is mutual respect between them, even if they are fiercely competitive. TADEJ 🤝 JONAS 💛#TDF2025 — Tour de France™ (@LeTour) July 14, 2025 Visma's first attempt to break the world champion failed but, with five mountain stages still to come, it is obvious that UAE are already stretched thin. Too thin? We will soon find out. Chris Waugh How many riders spent the first 20 minutes of stage 10 cursing the fact that France's national holiday had delayed the race's first rest day by 24 hours and instead sent them straight up a hill in Ennezat? Break formation on such a difficult and unrelenting day — the first Tour de France stage to ever feature as many as seven category two climbs — was always going to be frantically contested, and so it proved. The headline from the first 25 kilometres was Visma-Lease A Bike and Soudal-Quick Step both slipping two riders into an initial group of 28, potential help up the road later in the stage for Vingegaard and Evenepoel. And if that was a sign of weakness from Pogačar's UAE team, already diminished from the abandonment of Almeida during stage nine, then the sight of Sivakov struggling was another. French cycling, spiritually obligated to try something on July 14, were strongly represented too, with Julian Alaphilippe, Valentin Paret-Peintre, his brother Aurélien, Alex Baudin, Martinez, Quentin Pacher, Bruno Armirail and Clément Champoussin all involved. Other names of note included Healy, erstwhile GC contender O'Connor, American pair Neilson Powless and Simmons and eventual stage winner Yates. Advertisement There was a time, not so long ago, when television did not broadcast the start of Tour de France stages. True, you could easily have turned on stage 10 with an hour or so to go and enjoyed the various battles taking place, but witnessing how an epic day took shape only makes what the riders produced a few hours later even more impressive. Duncan Alexander On Tuesday the riders finally get a chance to recuperate on the Tour's first rest day. Then after that it is... The race resumes after the first race day with a stage that is near the Pyrenees but not quite in them. It's a flat-ish profile but contains some short-but-steep climbs in the closing kilometres. Some of the sprinters won't be able to hang on; those that do will fancy their chances of victory.
