Maison Manechal rated 5★ by tourist board

Large country house with private pool near Marciac and its Jazz Festival. On the edge of a small village in open countryside but not isolated. 10 min. to market towns with restaurants shops and bars. 45 min. from Tarbes–Lourdes–Pyrenees Airport and 1hr 55 min. from Toulouse and Bordeaux airports. The main house has been completely renovated to provide an elegant and spacious home, whilst retaining many period features including 5 working fireplaces. Double oak front doors lead into the entrance hall with a sweeping oak staircase. To the left is the library, 26 sqm with a large open fireplace. To the right is the elegant dining room 29 sqm with fireplace. To the rear of the hall, a door opens onto an inner hall, off which is the imposing entertaining room to the left and the farmhouse kitchen to the right. The huge entertaining room 93 sqm has a large stone fireplace and is well lit by French doors to 2 sides and several windows with magnificent views across the garden and beyond. The kitchen is divided into two parts, with the "preparation area" being separate from the cooking/ dining area. The combined space is 36 sqm. The Kitchen opens onto an outdoor dining terrace with the swimming pool beyond. There is also a large cloakroom on the ground floor with WC and washbasin. The upper floor, which has been newly laid with poplar floorboards throughout, is the master bedroom suite 46 sqm with an ensuite bathroom of 7 sqm. This room has French doors opening onto a huge, covered balcony of 48 sqm. Bedroom 5, with its own ensuite bathroom, is directly across the balcony. Bedroom 2 size is 28 sqm has an ensuite bathroom of 10 sqm, which is shared with a smaller bedroom of 12 sqm. Bedroom 1 size is 34m2 has an ensuite of 7m2. Although the house is traditionally finished, it has all the comforts of modern living. The restoration work has been done in such a way that the atmosphere and patina of age have been wonderfully preserved. The traditional tomettes, which cover the floors, disguise the underfloor heating – provided by air-source heat pumps. Upstairs another air-source pump works the reversible units, which provide heat in winter and cool air in summer. The wonderful, exposed beams in the vast roof hide the thick insulation, which helps trap the warm air within the house in winter and repel the heat of the sun in summer. Pool (12m x 6m) Balcony Pond/Lake Woodland Parkland. Pets welcome. Monfaucon sits on a long ridge formed by the grinding of ancient rocks as glaciers scoured their way from the Pyrénées to the sea at Bordeaux. Manéchal sits halfway down one side of this ridge. A walk around the village is a succession of steep climbs and descents – very good for the cardiovascular system. Turn left out of the gates and down the hill you will go past the house of Claude Laniesse, our famous potter, the only living ceramicist to have had an exhibition at Sevres Museum in Paris, whose exquisite garden has featured in many glossy magazines. If the gate is open you are free to go in and look at his exotic wares, but beware you will be tempted to buy these fabulous creations. You will, though, have to speak French. Next door is the long-serving and always helpful mayor, Roland Dubertrand, who lives in the oldest house in the village. At the cross at the bottom of the hill retrace your steps up rue de la Mongie and climb up the hill past Manéchal and turn left at the little crossroads at the top. This takes you to the old heart of the village, now a shadow of its former self. The Monfauconnais – the denizens of the village of Monfaucon – have witnessed more than a bit of history over the centuries. Continue up past the church to the very top of the ridge. This is where the old 'citadel' once stood. It was sacked by the Black Prince, the half-English, half-French eldest son of Edward III in the wars between England and France in the 14th century – for centuries Gascony was part of England. Turn back and pause to look at the church. In the 16th century, when Monfaucon was a protestant stronghold like so much of the region, the village was attacked by the Catholic forces and the old church razed to the ground. In between, and for more than a century afterwards, the Black Death wrought havoc, and the 'new' church you see in front of you was redecorated in the 1780s in a glorious swirl of baroque carving in gilt and blue as a thank you for the final cessation of the plague. It is well worth a visit and the key is held by one of the villagers. Notice the old wooden funeral bier in a corner, covered in a black velvet pall embroidered with skulls and crossbones, used to wheel the coffin to its final resting place. Open the semi-circular blue doors opposite the main door and the old font is revealed, a wonky wooden dove suspended by a wire above it. There is a little laneway beside the church heading higher still. Go up the lane past the old presbytery and stand beside the stone cross in front of a little mortuary chapel and look over the edge of the steep escarpment in front of you. In 1814 a young English officer stood on this spot and observed the advance of the English troops through the vineyards in the plain below him in pursuit of the forces of Napoleon's Maréchal Soult (appointed a few years before to command the 'Army of England' post the invasion, which never happened) as the French troops were harried from Spain to their eventual final defeat at Waterloo. On good days you can see a breathtaking panorama of the mighty Pyrénées rising up from the plain, stretching to the Atlantic to your right and to the Med to your left. The vineyards in the plains have now vanished, apart from a few parcels for private consumption, to be replaced by wheat, maize and sunflowers, the vines decimated by the outbreak of disease in the late 19th century. If you continue down the lane past the old chapel the lane disgorges into a field and at the end of a slight depression in the ground marking the old road, you will spot some tumbledown stone pillars. This is the entrance to the old graveyard and the site of the old church. It is a haunting place. Amongst the overgrown trees and old box hedges which once delineated paths – there were burials here amongst the forebears of ancient families until the early 20th century – old bones and the occasional skull, dug up by foxes or badgers, lie strewn. Returning past the church and back down the hill, the Mairie and the primary school occupy the corner site. There is a tennis court in the school grounds which can be used by villagers and their guests. As you return to Manéchal you are probably struck by the lack of houses, and the disjointed nature of the village, houses strung out along a fan of roads. After centuries of war, famine and the plague, 18th and early 19th- century Monfaucon was relatively prosperous. The slaughter of the First World War depopulated the village, and that and the agricultural depression which followed it, caused the village to shrink dramatically. With no natural stone for building, except the round stones of the river beds used to such great effect in the houses of the plains and the Pyrénées, the local houses are largely built of mud blocks and once the roof is breached, the house literally melts back into the soil. The village now has only half the houses standing that existed in the 1920s. Today it is a peaceful, friendly village, the majority farmers whose names have studded the war memorials and the village records for centuries. We are available to offer help throughout your stay A Walk around the Village – and a Little bit of History Monfaucon sits on a long ridge formed by the grinding of ancient rocks as glaciers scoured their way from the Pyrenees to the sea at Bordeaux. Manechal sits half way down one side of this ridge. A walk around the village is a succession of steep climbs and descents – very good for the cardiovascular system. Turn left out of the gates and down the hill you will go past the house of Claude Laniesse, our famous potter, the only living ceramicist to have had an exhibition at Sevres Museum in Paris, whose exquisite garden has featured in many glossy magazines. If the gate is open you are free to go in and look at his exotic wares, but beware you will be tempted to buy these fabulous creations. You will, though, have to speak French. Next door is the long-serving and always helpful mayor, Roland Dubertrand, who lives in the oldest house in the village. At the cross at the bottom of the hill retrace your steps up rue de la Mongie and climb up the hill past Manechal and turn left at the little crossroads at the top. This takes you to the old heart of the village, now a shadow of its former self. The Monfauconnais – the denizens of the village of Monfaucon – have witnessed more than a bit of history over the centuries. Continue up past the church to the very top of the ridge. This is where the old ‘citadel’ once stood. It was sacked by the Black Prince, the half-English, half-French eldest son of Edward III in the wars between England and France in the 14th century – for centuries Gascony was part of England. Turn back and pause to look at the church. In the 16th century, when Monfaucon was a protestant stronghold like so much of the region, the village was attacked by the Catholic forces and the old church razed to the ground. In between, and for more than a century afterwards, the Black Death wrought havoc, and the ‘new’ church you see in front of you was redecorated in the 1780s in a glorious swirl of baroque carving in gilt and blue as a thank you for the final cessation of the plague. It is well worth a visit and the key is held by one of the villagers. Notice the old wooden funeral bier in a corner, covered in a black velvet pall embroidered with skulls and crossbones, used to wheel the coffin to its final resting place. Open the semi-circular blue doors opposite the main door and the old font is revealed, a wonky wooden dove suspended by a wire above it. There is a little laneway beside the church heading higher still. Go up the lane past the old presbytery and stand beside the stone cross in front of a little mortuary chapel and look over the edge of the steep escarpment in front of you. In 1814 a young English officer stood on this spot and observed the advance of the English troops through the vineyards in the plain below him in pursuit of the forces of Napoleon’s Marechal Soult (appointed a few years before to command the ‘Army of England’ post the invasion, which never happened) as the French troops were harried from Spain to their eventual final defeat at Waterloo. On good days you can see a breathtaking panorama of the mighty Pyrenees rising up from the plain, stretching to the Atlantic to your right and to the Med to your left. The vineyards in the plains have now vanished, apart from a few parcels for private consumption, to be replaced by wheat, maize and sunflowers, the vines decimated by the outbreak of disease in the late 19th century. If you continue down the lane past the old chapel the lane disgorges into a field and at the end of a slight depression in the ground marking the old road you will spot some tumbledown stone pillars. This is the entrance to the old graveyard and the site of the old church. It is a haunting place. Amongst the overgrown trees and old box hedges which once delineated paths – there were burials here amongst the forebears of ancient families until the early 20th century – old bones and the occasional skull, dug up by foxes or badgers, lie strewn. Returning past the church and back down the hill, the Mairie and the primary school occupy the corner site. There is a tennis court in the school grounds which can be used by villagers and their guests. As you return to Manechal you are probably struck by the lack of houses, and the disjointed nature of the village, houses strung out along a fan of roads. After centuries of war, famine and the plague, 18th and early 19th- century Monfaucon was relatively prosperous. The slaughter of the First World War depopulated the village, and that and the agricultural depression which followed it, caused the village to shrink dramatically. With no natural stone for building, except the round stones of the river beds used to such great effect in the houses of the plains and the Pyrenees, the local houses are largely built of mud blocks and once the roof is breached, the house literally melts back into the soil. The village now has only half the houses standing that existed in the 1920s. Today it is a peaceful, friendly village, the majority farmers whose names have studded the war memorials and the village records for centuries. Further Afield Turn left out of the gates and at the cross at the bottom of the road turn left again and carry on past the village fishing pond to the main road and turn right and you will reach Marciac, famous for its summer jazz festival, a beautiful bastide town with an arcaded main square which is home to a variety of bars and restaurants. One of our favourites is Cafe Zik, its large wooden deck overlooking the lake, just outside the town. Opposite it sits La Peniche, a huge river boat marooned on the lake (how did it get there?) which offers less sophisticated, traditional Gascon fare. This is the land of duck, and foie gras and duck breast, cassoulet and confit de canard are staples. The white wines of the region are little known, and delicious. Originally always sweet, the vins secs are now much more popular. Gascon wine can be cheap, but is still very drinkable, slightly fruity but with a refreshing zing from the Manseng grape. The more sophisticated (but still not expensive) varieties are Pacherenc du vic Bilh, Jurancon and the various wines made by the St Mont Cooperative which are really very good. The tradition is to drink sweet white (doux or molleux) with foie gras or as an apero. The reds are another story. Largely based on the Tannat grape and with the appellation Madiran, the cheaper wines can be almost undrinkable. The rule is never drink them under four years old. The more expensive can be delicious, strong, beefy reds. On summer Sundays Chateau Viella nearby stages exquisite tasting feasts, with a different wine with each course. Le patron, M Bertolussi, will take you through the vines beforehand to educate you about the local wines and will pop up between courses to introduce each new bottle. The chocolate pud is accompanied by an astonishingly delicious sweet red wine. Around Madiran , about twenty minutes away, there are many small wine houses which open their doors to visitors to view the caves and taste their wines. For really sophisticated dining La Rive Droite is a ‘restaurant gastonomique’, once patronised by Victor Hugo and Georges Sand, in Villecomtal-sur-Arros, a fifteen-minute drive away. In Maubourguet, once the headquarters of the Duke of Wellington, a twelve-minute drive in the opposite direction, there are a number of bars and eateries under the canopy of the huge plane trees which shade the main street. The most adventurous menu with sea-fresh fish dish specialties is at Le Hotel de France under the direction of the Portuguese owner and his French wife. Perhaps one of our favourite venues is ‘the garage’. It is a small store-cum petrol pump in Ladeveze-Riviere on the way to Plaisance-du-Gers, twelve to fifteen minutes away. At the back of the store is a small room with two or three tables, where the patron cooks. Arrive at lunchtime and you will join local farmers to be served whatever is on the menu – four delicious, hearty, Gascon courses and a pitcher of wine and a coffee for 11 euros... A beautiful village where the eating is of secondary importance is Bassoues, just beyond Marciac. The restaurant tables outside nestle amongst the half-timbered houses adjacent to the medieval market building, which unusually straddles the main street. At the end of the street rises a vast tower, relict of the endless conflicts of the region. An amazing panorama of the surrounding countryside and the mountains beyond awaits those who have the puff to climb to the top. Various markets are held in each of the nearby towns on different days. Our usual, and one of the biggest, is the Saturday market at Vic-en-Bigorre, about fifteen to twenty minutes drive across the plains. The huge 19th-century covered market is alive with animals, vendors and Gascons of every size. Delicious cheeses, a wonderful variety of meats and breads, vegetables and fruit, honey, olives and wines is on sale inside. Outside, a variety of stallholders proffer goods catering for every taste and inclination. The mountains, for skiing in winter and breathtaking walks in summer, are an hour and a half’s drive due south. Less than two hours and you are at the Spanish border. Biarritz and the Atlantic beaches are an hour and a half along the motorway to the south west. Carcassonne is a similar distance in the other direction. Heating a swimming pool has a huge impact on the environment, so it is wise to choose carefully when to heat…. Thank you for covering the pool with the isothermal cover at night and on cool days. The swimming pool can be heated on demand when the outside temperature is 20 degrees or more, and the water temperature is at least 2 degrees below, up to a maximum water temperature of 26 degrees.