If you spent the night downtown, you have to slope down to the river.

The GR65 leaves Condom by crossing the Baïse River. The river is there in front of you, almost majestic, in any case soothing and beautiful. Today the river is calm and seems sleepy. But what is the beautiful mill sitting on the other side of the water dreaming about? For a long time, the river no longer forces its millstone to crush the grains of wheat. So, it slumbers among the trees and lawns of the beautiful park, and the river flows, quiet, muddy and unrestrained.

Further on, the GR65 arrives near a large crossroads, near the sports complex. This is where you have to be very careful, because today there is another route that can seriously confuse you. This is the Voie Verte d’Armagnac, a cycle track created on the old railway line that linked Condom to Eauze

We met a nice lady on a bike and we asked her if the route went through Larressingle and Lartigue. Bridge She told us yes. We therefore embarked on this track, believing that here too the route had been modified. But this way does not pass directly to the two aforementioned places, but makes large detours to get there. It is therefore necessary to do little gymnastics to find the GR65 back. By bike, it’s easy, on foot, it’s different. Above all, do not go there, unless in a few years perhaps it will be part of the official route. Case to follow.

The slope then becomes a little steeper until you reach another farm, Vignau farm.

The place bears its name well. Rows of vines are visible on the hills extending over a hillock sometimes punctuated by a few solitary oaks. It already smells of old Armagnac Hors d´Age!

Ah, the beautiful month of June! The sunflowers stretch more and more towards the sun and erect their stems, from which the first buds bloom, hungry for each pearl of morning dew.

It was under the reign of St Louis, in the 13th century, that the city turned into a defense structure in a Gascony disputed between French and English. The city soon became a bishopric, by decision of the popes of Avignon. But life was calm here, the English and the Protestants lenient. The city kept its integrity until the Revolution, when it became a national asset. Alas the last bishop, owner of the premises, had rather ransacked the roofs and the walls to enlarge. The city was gradually falling into ruins.

Fortunately, at the beginning of the 20th century, enlightened patrons set to work to save this exceptional city, a “little Carcassonne” in a way, as they like to say here. Therefore, cross the stone bridge and the two arches that span the moat, then take your pleasure in visiting the curtain walls, the ditches, the St Sigismond church, the fortified castle and the medieval houses attached to the walls.

You can eat and stay in the medieval city, and even in the very neighboring outskirts.

Whatever your choice, whether to go to Larressingle or to avoid the village, you will quickly reach the pathway that descends to Lartigue Bridge over the Osse River. So, back to the beginning of July, at the junction of Larressingle on GR path. Here, a bad lane descends into the dale, into the oak undergrowth, where hornbeam and dogwood bushes are very present.

The slope is quite steep here, very often close to 15%. The ground is very muddy, even in good weather, as the little Marian stream flows here. On the way, you can reach the Tollet gîte, a stone’s throw from here.

Sometimes the pathway avoids the mud, runs through the grass, and in the clearings still grows ash trees. Maples, which you have seen regularly in recent days, have become less common.

Below, a direction sign has been planted in the tall grass so that pilgrims do not get lost in the lush jungle of the small pond where Marian’s stream flows.

Further down, towards the bottom of the dale, the slope becomes smoother in the dense undergrowth, under the large deciduous trees, where there are sometimes also some chestnut trees.

At the bottom of the descent, the GR65 finds a small road. You’ll arrive at the celebrated Lartigue Bridge. It is easy to imagine, having descended the bad track, how much this region, which must have been a real swamp in the past, was difficult to cross by the pilgrims of the Middle Ages.

The violent floods of the Osse River damaged the bridge and still do so today. The freestone bridge, where large and small arches alternate, as it stands today, has been rebuilt over the centuries, first in the 17th century, then in the19th century, and then quite recently.

As soon as the muddy waters of the river have been crossed, the GR65 takes off for a moment on the road along a wide plain where the major crop is beans. No one is here to tell you if you are talking about Tarbais beans, one of the great specialties of the South-West, with its thin skin, its incomparable fondant, its virtual absence of flatulence, which make it the delight and flavor for bean soups and cassoulets.

The road then strolls a bit between crops and meadows under the tall ash trees.

Further afield, the GR65 leaves the road to run into the grass along the bean crops.

A little history to illustrate the point. Beans arrived from Mexico in Gascony with corn around the 17th century, finding near Tarbes, but also as far as Gers and Béarn, weather conditions perfect for equatorial plants. In the past, they grew a variety of corn to tame climbing bean plants, thus creating this bean-corn association, so characteristic of Tarbais beans. But the world is changing, genetics and mechanics too. So, they developed a new variety, Alaric type Tarbais, which grows at medium height and just grows on a plastic net, allowing almost total mechanization of the product. Perhaps it is the one that grows today near the waters of Osse River.

Here the plain is vast and it is not only the beans that have citizenship. Here grow large fallows of miscanthus, grasses that are collected dry, usually in late spring.

A little up, on the edge of an undergrowth, a sign indicates that you are in Ténazère area, in Gascon country, if you had forgotten it.

The track runs on a wide, not very stony pathway, under oaks and ash trees.

And then there is a long alternation of unharvested wheat and beans, most often along the oak hedges. The bean still competes for its place with the wheat.

But that will not last, and then you’ll find again Gers and its sunflowers, with also soya and corn, which will be more present from here. The GR65 then approaches a tarmac road, under poplars, rare in the region.

The road then climbs up the hill into the huge oilseed fields.

Clearly, this year in the Gers, priority is given to sunflowers. In our last visit here, everything was covered with majestic wheat. The beans are gone. Here is wheat, do you want some here! The wheat ripples to the horizon, breathing heat and light. The sunflower, when it is flowerless, is green with sadness.

It should be understood that the farmers alternate crops, but it is not only their will that is at stake. These peasants deliver their goods to companies, which often dictate the choice of crops to be planted, depending on the market.

Towards the top of the hill, vines disturb the languid monotony of the oilseeds. Here, as elsewhere in other plots of Ténarèze, peasants cultivate white grape varieties, including Ugni Blanc, Colombard, Chenin, Sauvignon, Chardonnay and Gros Manseng. These local wines, under the Côtes de Gascogne appellation, are often blends. Château Tariquet, a few kilometers from Eauze, is the flagship.

Further up, the road flattens on the ridge.

So here, sunflowers are away, cereals alternate with vines. Gers, you love or you are indifferent to these immense spaces, lifeless. The hamlets, when they exist, remain as big as pocket handkerchiefs, as in La Gavarre, and just after in Barrigue, where most of the time they are only isolated farms.

Most of the time, trees have been cut off to the ground. Only small groves have been preserved to give some shade to the houses along the way.

Out of Lasserre, the road flattens for a bit in a less cultivated country, under oak trees.

You’re going to change the universe, that’s for sure. You’ll forget the large cultivated fields for a little corn. And the bad tar makes way for a dirt road near the place called  le Glézia.

A wide pathway, between dirt and grass, then slopes down on a fairly steep slope, through scattered undergrowth.

Along the way, it meets the sleepy little Répassat brook at the bottom of a dale. Then it climbs up the other side, for a few moments on a steeper slope.

The crops reappear, when the pathway joins the rare houses and farms of Pagès.

Further afield, the pathway climbs a little again in the sunflowers at the edge of the undergrowth, passes in front of a fountain from another age, the use of which is unknown. On the other hand, toads know its usefulness.

It then enters an undergrowth, in the shade of large trees.

Oaks, hornbeams and chestnut trees compete in grace and height.

You get here a stone’s throw to Montreal-de-Gers, when the GR65 joins the paved road above the village.

Here the road gently leans, in the vineyards, near a housing estate, which we will say peculiar, at the entrance of Montreal-du-Gers. Is it to remember the cabins in Canada? In fact, any Canadian pilgrim will be delighted to pass here in Montreal.

The road then heads to a magnificent washhouse and a picnic spot. The communal wash houses are part of the vernacular heritage of these regions. They are scattered everywhere, in numbers, in the southwest, built in an era preoccupied with lack of water, hygiene and public safety. Here they are not “butterfly”, as in the causses. They are more massive, often covered, but their use was above all done by washerwomen.

Formerly, the washerwomen practiced large laundry twice a year, in spring and autumn. The big laundry lasted three days. They tapped the laundry at home in the vat, repeatedly pouring hot water on the laundry and on the vegetable ashes which served as soap. They avoided staining oak, favored poplar, fir, fruit trees and fragrant plants. They rubbed and rinsed in the communal washhouse. The wet laundry was brought to the washhouse early in the morning. The work was long and tiring to beat the clothes, scrub, rinse, and often start over. The women were helping each other. Also, it was the place of conviviality, solidarity, sociability and gossip of women. Then soap replaced ashes in the XIXth century, and a long time later the washing machine did what was necessary.

On its rocky outcrop, the bastide of Montreal (1,100 inhabitants), capital of Ténarèze area, stretches all along, with some beautiful half-timbered houses.

The long street leads to the central square surrounded by arcades and half-timbered houses. This is where social and tourist life revolves, in a charming square, near the church and the town hall.

The 13th century Gothic church, with a very dark interior, partly fortified, is still part of the ramparts which have largely melted down.