A Visit to the Ile du Levant

Story and pictures by William Gerber

There was not a cloud in the sky. The Mediterranean down there at the left showed hardly any waves. Deep blue it seemed to stretch endlessly, gradually changing its colour into gray and merging with the sky. There was no horizon to tell you where the ocean ended and the sky began. Sea and sky became one. To the right were mountains, sometimes crossed by valleys. The road climbed up on the side of the mountains and then the sea was far, far down, as just now. Then again the road would lead down and follow the shore. There were sailing boats on the water everywhere and every once in a while there would he a beach. Some times it would be just rocks and at other times sand. But whether they were rocks or sand there were always people enjoying the sun, the air and a swim in the sea. Whenever the road went through a village that village was a bathing resort. That's the way it is on the Riviera. Any village on the coast is a bathing resort whether it is along the French or Italian Riviera.

The traveler in the bus watched the sail boats and the people on the beaches, but mostly he looked at the sea in the direction the bus was going. scanning the horizon or where he believed the horizon to be. Soon, very soon now, he should see the Iles d'Or, the Golden Islands, one of which and the first one that he would be able to perceive, would be his destination and the object of his trip, the Ile du Levant.

He had heard about it, he had read about it, and he was so very anxious to find out whether it would come up to his expectations, or whether his imagination had painted him too nice a picture and would leave him disappointed. On that would depend the length of his stay. As so often before he was asking himself, do I go out of my way to follow a chimera or will it be the fulfillment of a dream. Will a short visit of a few hours suffice or will I want to stay the two or three days as intended? You see, I know all about those thoughts because it was I who happened to be the traveler.

Au, over there ! At the horizon ! That must be it! That must be the Ile du Levant! And the place we are coming to, must be Le Lavandou. I was right on both counts.

Le Lavandou is, of course, a bathing resort in its own right, but it is also the closest place on terra firma from which to reach the Ile du Levant or the Golden Island as I preferred to call it in my mind, after I learned to know and love it. The boat trip to the island takes one hour. There are usually two trips in the forenoon and another two in the afternoon. However, it was too late taking the trip that same day. Accordingly I would take the first crossing in the morning as that would give me time for looking things over and, if I should decide wanting to extend my visit, to try finding a place at which to stay.

I stayed on the Ile du Levant for two weeks. Then my time was running out. If I had known how it would be, I would have gone there three or four weeks sooner and would have stayed there that much longer. I believe that proves that I liked it there. I liked it very much indeed.

The island is really more like a mountain that rises abruptly out of the sea. Often rock walls have a sheer drop down to the water. Except for the so-called village and the main road that traverses the island all the rest is still pure and unadulterated wilderness untouched by civilization. There are a few places where a group of pines forms a very small forest, but otherwise everything is covered by the maquis. I have no idea what kind of hushes they are that form the maquis, but they are absolutely impenetrable. The only way of moving about on the islandis to follow the various foot-paths. Even then, if not following a path that leads to one of the well known beaches, it is a very good idea to establish some sign whenever another path branches off in order to avoid getting lost on the return trip. I smiled when others put little stones across these branch roads. I was so sure I would find my way back Without that help we would have been hopelessly lost.

Arriving at the village is something entirely different from what one might expect. You stop at the Round Point so called because it is the central point and hub from which roads lead in all directions. At the Round Point and close by are a number of stores, groceries, bakeries, etc., two restaurants and a hotel. You do not see the rest of the village although it is rather extended. There are circular roads on the mountain side which constitute the village. Even on these roads you see a house or bungalow only once in a while and often only the roof or upper part. For privacy, most of the houses are built off the road in the maquis and only a narrow foot-path leads to them. Vain may hear talk and laughter—people scent to Ire always happy there and they have reason to be—and from this you may know that a house or bungalow is hidden in the maquis but actually you cannot see it.

One of the first things that strikes you on landing is the perfumed air. It comes from the various kinds of flowers that grow and bloom in the maquis. The other thing is the song of the crickets. There are no birds, at least I have never seen or heard one. But there must be millions of crickets. All day long you hear their song until nightfall when, considerately, they go to sleep or whatever they do at that time. Any-way their song stops and it is quiet. I had forgotten how quiet it can be at night. There is no car, there is no one coming home late from work or some other activity, there is no noise whatsoever to disturb you. Maybe a dog will bark once, but otherwise there just is not a single sound. I liked it that the crickets had their song during the day. Otherwise it would be too quiet, you would feel too lonely, in would be able to hear the quietness. Now. whenever I hear a cricket. I cannot help but think of my Golden Island. the Ile du Levant.

Accordingly, if anyone intends taking a trip to Europe I advise him strongly not to miss paying a visit of some time to the Ile du Levant. IIe will have an unforgettable experience. Ile. too, may wish to call it also his Golden Island. He will live on an island that comes as near to the lost paradise as f could imagine on this earth. That includes nature and the friendliness and good fellowship of the people.