Courchons ! Deserted hamlet, forgotten by all and a little paradise far from the adversities of the world, isn’t it ? No, this high-perched village is neither deserted nor forgotten : it is regulary inhabited by the ardent supporters of its indigo sky and arid rocks who created, five years ago, the Association of the Courchons hamlet.

These volunteers are determined to keep the memory of the old village and to maintain this place which in a day-time is gone through by ramblers of all kinds, on crampon shoes, on horse-back (as Thierry LHERMITE has illustrated), on mountain bike or even on snowshoes in Winter.

If all roads lead to Rome, all paths go to ........Courchons. Ramblers, hunters or mushroom gatherers, cross with delight the summits of “Defens” or the dark depths of “Graous”.

Everybody, who on an October afternoon, has not gone along the path from Blaron to Courchon looking down on the lake of Castillon throughout their walk, cannot boast to have crossed the marvels of this world. They never got hit by an emerald ocean encircled by the “yellow-orange” of Autumn and will never have the experience of the enchanting tones of such a picture.

Worn by the icy “Mistral” of December or stroked by the bracing air of Summer, but eternally whipped by the wind all year round, the barns dominate, unchanging, over the area now deserted by millstone and flails. Restored by the “Courchonnais” of origin : the descendants of Angeline REBOUL-BLANC or by adopted “Courchonnais”, they challenge time, on the opposite of the old village for ever asleep, around the ruins of its church.

Its jewel : the antique laundry adjoining the village oven, wich still resounds with the knocking of clothes beaters and found, not so long ago, its utility with some washerwomen.

The oven never lost its utility, thanks to the regretted André BOEUF, who made it live again for many years, and today, thanks to our friends COMTE, father and son, who generously supply it, for the enjoyment of the inhabitants or the family.