Off the Beaten Track
I could see it from the road, a tall, pointed tower rising over the tops of the winter-bare trees. Past the wooded slope, a patchwork of fields stretched out nearly to the horizon. If I wanted a closer look, it wouldn't be in the car.
I drove another kilometer before finding a parking spot, on a side lane in the tiny village of Coincy (streets: 9; population: 306), then hiked back along the road, detouring onto the muddy verge every time a car went by. Past the fields, the woods began, but there was no way across the steep drainage ditch bordering the road. Finally, at the bottom of the hill, I found a place at the edge of a field where the slope flattened out enough to shuffle safely down--as long as I was careful not to grab the barbed wire fence for balance. Once under the trees--blessedly unfallen and unpunctured--I discerned a faint track leading upwards. Not so much a trail as simply a place where the underbrush had been flattened by other feet than mine. Must be the right place, so up I went.
The track petered out as I walked, but by that time I could see the tower and stone walls looming through the trees. Up one more slope and there it was: the ruined 12th century chapel of St. Nabor de Colombey. Not much to it after all this time--just the the afore-mentioned tower (re-roofed in local slate in the 1970s), and some crumbling walls, unfortunately partially defaced by history-deficient graffiti artists.
It was a beautiful day, a balmy 11 degrees, so after circling the walls with my camera clicking away, I settled on one of them with a sandwich and a book. By the time I'd finished my lunch, the afternoon light had turned golden, so more pictures were clearly in order; besides, I wasn't looking forward to the long hike back to the car. But eventually even I had to admit I'd taken all the pictures I possibly could--and my camera's yellow battery light agreed with me. The walk back wasn't any more fun than I'd been anticipating, but I felt gleefully transgressive. I hadn't just been off the beaten track, I'd been off of pretty much any track at all. And I'd gotten to eat lunch in a piece of history.
I drove another kilometer before finding a parking spot, on a side lane in the tiny village of Coincy (streets: 9; population: 306), then hiked back along the road, detouring onto the muddy verge every time a car went by. Past the fields, the woods began, but there was no way across the steep drainage ditch bordering the road. Finally, at the bottom of the hill, I found a place at the edge of a field where the slope flattened out enough to shuffle safely down--as long as I was careful not to grab the barbed wire fence for balance. Once under the trees--blessedly unfallen and unpunctured--I discerned a faint track leading upwards. Not so much a trail as simply a place where the underbrush had been flattened by other feet than mine. Must be the right place, so up I went.
The track petered out as I walked, but by that time I could see the tower and stone walls looming through the trees. Up one more slope and there it was: the ruined 12th century chapel of St. Nabor de Colombey. Not much to it after all this time--just the the afore-mentioned tower (re-roofed in local slate in the 1970s), and some crumbling walls, unfortunately partially defaced by history-deficient graffiti artists.
It was a beautiful day, a balmy 11 degrees, so after circling the walls with my camera clicking away, I settled on one of them with a sandwich and a book. By the time I'd finished my lunch, the afternoon light had turned golden, so more pictures were clearly in order; besides, I wasn't looking forward to the long hike back to the car. But eventually even I had to admit I'd taken all the pictures I possibly could--and my camera's yellow battery light agreed with me. The walk back wasn't any more fun than I'd been anticipating, but I felt gleefully transgressive. I hadn't just been off the beaten track, I'd been off of pretty much any track at all. And I'd gotten to eat lunch in a piece of history.