The Verdon River (not to be confused with Verdun, the village where the armistice of World War I was signed) rises in southern France near a mountain pass called Col d’Allos, not far from the small town of Barcelonnette, close to the Italian border in eastern France. After 166 kilometers, the Verdon flows into the larger Durance River, south of the small town of Manosque. Between 1929 and 1975, five dams were built along the river to generate electricity, an ambitious project that actually began back in 1908 (but was halted by the two world wars).
The gorge of the Verdon River was carved by water eroding relatively soft limestone, in the stretch between the lovely town of Moustiers-Sainte-Marie and the small district town of Castellane. The canyon is considered the second largest in Europe, after the Tara Canyon, most of which lies within Montenegro.
My experiences at the Gorges du Verdon
The Gorges du Verdon was first mentioned in writing in 1782, and in the second half of the 19th century it was described in one of the first travel guidebooks ever published in France. Even so, it wasn’t until 1906 that word of it first spread beyond the borders of France.
In my younger years I spent a few years studying in France. For work, I needed a car from my employer (with gas paid for!), and I made the most of it: every vacation, I’d cross the French border and head straight into one of the other countries of Europe (this was the late 1970s: the European Union was still in its infancy, and there were border checkpoints everywhere).
Only after a few years did it strike me that I was racking up hundreds and thousands of kilometers outside France’s borders, while I barely knew the country I actually lived in. From that moment on, every vacation, even a short one, was devoted to magical trips through the stunning corners of one of the most beautiful countries in the world (no, it’s not the most beautiful. A few others might beat it, but not many, in my personal opinion).
On one of my trips, in 1978, I set out to explore the mountain passes of the Alps, and on my way back down I happened upon this very canyon, simply because the road was marked in green on my Michelin road map (nobody had even dreamed of the internet yet, and Waze didn’t exist). For anyone born too late to remember: a green marking on a Michelin map means a scenic road that’s usually worth driving. Over the years of my travels, I learned to trust their map markings completely.
I discovered a route that was breathtaking. A narrow, winding road along the edge of a deep canyon (700 meters, did I mention that already?). At the bottom, a river of deep turquoise water, lush vegetation covering the steep slopes, except where the sheer rock walls left no foothold for plants to grow. At every bend or pullout, I stopped, putting passing cars at risk, and stood at the edge of the rock, looking out in every direction and shooting photo after photo, as if my life depended on how many pictures I took.
The road along the northern rim of the canyon, the D952, begins in the east at the town of Castellane and winds its way to Moustiers-Sainte-Marie, a magical town whose history is full of stories and legends. The town itself was once an ancient center of ceramic craftsmanship dating back to the Middle Ages.
South of the town stands the massive dam that closes off the entire river valley into an artificial lake, the Lac de Sainte-Croix (“Lake of the Holy Cross,” 1973), which over the years has become a hub for watersports and recreation, sitting above the flooded remains of three villages that were later rebuilt along the shores of the artificial lake.
After driving across the dam itself, the southern road, numbered D19 and then D71, circles the canyon from its southern side. Because of the direction of the sunlight, the orientation of the rock, the height of the vegetation and plenty of other reasons besides, the scenery looks completely different, and it feels as though I’m discovering a stunning piece of landscape I had never seen before.
A few words about this photo: it’s a scan of a slide I shot during my trip in 1978, and I apologize for its poor quality (both from age and from the scanning process). This particular image is meant to capture the look of the canyon and to make you think… what do parents do when their kid throws the pacifier out the window?
I was stunned when I got back from that vacation, excited, thrilled, and armed with dozens of photos, and not one of my local friends and acquaintances (French people, not tourists like me) had any idea what I was talking about! When they saw the pictures, they simply didn’t believe it had been shot inside the borders of France.
Since then, a lot of water has flowed down the Verdon. The internet has been invented, Google Maps has shown us we can explore the world without leaving home, and yet people are still surprised when I plan a trip for them that passes through here. “Where are you sending me?”, “What is there even to see there?”, these are the questions I hear over and over. And I just stay quiet and say: “Go. Talk to me when you get back.”
Quite a few towns are scattered along the canyon, both near it and farther away. Some are typical farming communities, while others make their living from tourism tied to the canyon’s various sites.
Moustiers-Sainte-Marie: the jewel in the crown of the Gorges du Verdon
What makes this landscape especially remarkable is the enchanting village of Moustiers-Sainte-Marie, founded on this spot in the 5th century by a group of monks seeking solitude. The village itself grew into a proper settlement in the 11th century (1052), and it was from here that the knight Blacas set out to join a crusade to the Holy Land. He was captured by the Mamluks in 1249, and upon his return he hung a golden star on a chain suspended above the village, between its two mountain peaks.
According to local tradition, an Italian clergyman arrived in the village, likely in the mid-17th century, and taught a local potter how to make ceramics from a special clay he had found in the area, along with a distinctive white enamel glaze. From then on the craft spread throughout the community, and the village became famous all over France for its unique style of ceramics, which even had its own distinctive shade of blue, known as “Bleu de Moustiers.”
So, to sum it up… go. Talk to me when you get back.
A few practical tips for your trip to the Gorges du Verdon
- To really discover everything the Gorges du Verdon has to offer, you should spend at least a few days there. That’s why I highly recommend staying in the area, which will also save you quite a bit of driving. If you take my advice, you’ll find a few recommended places to stay in the article Hotels, apartments and villas recommended near the Gorges du Verdon.
- It should go without saying that exploring the Gorges du Verdon by public transportation isn’t really practical, so it’s well worth renting a car. In the article Renting a car in France, you’ll find recommendations for sites where you can find quality rental cars at reasonable prices.
- If you’re planning to visit other spots in Provence after you finish exploring the Gorges du Verdon, feel free to check out the Provence page on the site.
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