Spectacular is the main word to describe this hermitage located in the Gorge de Galamus.

The drive to get to the hermitage is amongst the scariest and most majestic I’ve ever driven. Mick and I came here two years ago, but when we walked down the gorge back then, the sign to the hermitage said “Fermé” (closed).

But not today. It said “Ouverte“.

None of us knew what “open” really meant, but the walk itself to get us to our destination was fun. Mick’s knees were playing up, so he decided to wait for us in the carpark, and was able to get this photo of us as we set off.

This next photo Mick also took with his phone and it almost looks like a watercolour painting. Apparently he could see us on the track when he took it.

As we mounted the stairs to the hermitage we noticed the doors were indeed open.

And then what a shock.

Because behind those doors was the most amazing chapel / grotto and………

……… a souvenir shop, attended by a nice young French man who made Michael the best hot chocolate of his stay in France for €1.60. We could hardly believe it!

We worked out later that there is another, easier way to get to the chapel – from the top of the road just above the hermitage. There were two other groups of tourists there as well, but we were the only ones who’d walked down the long and windy track which hung next to the gorge carved by the Agly River.

This note I was reading, which was in English by the way as well as in French, stated that hermits have sought out peace and solitude in this grotto and precarious dwellings hanging from the cliffs in order to feel closer to God.

It stated that there are two main celebrations in the year that special services are held in the chapel, and (loads of) worshippers / pilgrims attend. These are Easter Sunday and Whit Monday (the Monday after Pentecost). I am pretty sure they would take the easier way down, and there is definitely no wheelchair access.

The note also mentioned that one of the most famous people to have sort refuge in this location was Francisco Palau y Quer who spent time in exile from Spain here between 1840 to 1842.

The small town at the foot of the gorge (Saint-Paul-de-Fenouillet), which is also only 10 minutes drive from Caudiès and is our closest town with a supermarket, has its church named in honour of this now saint (because in 1988 he was beatified by John Paul II) .

This final photo shows a gate protecting a very small cave or opening. I poked my head inside to get a better look and could feel a very warm gust of air being blown out of it. I am sure a clever geologists would be able to explain why that was happening, but it did feel very nice as the day was quite bitter.

Once back at the top of the carpark there was no way of convincing Mick we could have our coffee and cake we’d packed for morning tea up there. He was freezing. So instead, I drove us to one of the main squares in Saint-Paul-de-Fenouillet where we enjoyed our little picnic before heading back home.

Really, it was only marginally less cold, but at least each of us had somewhere to sit!