The Lozère: Hellhound on the Trail

Lozère in the Massif Central is typical of France Profonde, or ‘deep France’. Its sparse population, with small sleeping villages and an untamed landscape feels like another world. Connected by quiet and winding roads, there is very little traffic, a cyclist’s dream. The Department’s volcanic geology and high altitude make it even more intoxicating, almost prehistoric. The hills really do have eyes. One question, why is it so deserted?

Riding here you feel the weight of something mysterious, something powerful. Whenever the opportunity arose, we took detours onto gravel but riding in January, we encountered snow and ice. This made for some treacherous terrain which was at times impossible to navigate clipped into our pedals. Vicious blasts of cold air nipped at our legs and made the fingers sting.

But the four of us rode with the nervous energy that comes from being in the wild in winter, rumbling along a route as if we had the hounds of hell chasing us. The adrenaline kept us moving, and as we began to find a rhythm, we became distracted with ideas and stories. There was one story which seemed to lurk in the shadows, waiting for us to discuss –The Beast of Gévaudan.

Legend has it that in June 1764 a young farm-girl, whilst watching her flock in the Gévaudan (or Lozère as it is known today), was ravaged and killed by a wolf-like creature. Sheepherding is a dangerous business at the best of times, but this attack was brutal. There were further sightings, attacks and deaths, with every incident suggesting this was no ordinary animal.

The people of Gévaudan were traumatised, with attacks becoming more frequent. Captain Jean-Baptiste Duhamel, head of the infantry at Clermont-Ferrand, tried to round up local farmers to hunt down this mysterious predator but it was reported that the reluctant volunteers couldn’t get close to the animal as it was superior in cunning, and that its terrifying appearance stopped them dead in their tracks. It may also have been because the hunters didn’t have carbon frames, 40mm tyres or disc brakes to chase said creature with.

Duhamel described this terrifying beast as big as a horse and with red and black fur. Another witness claimed that it could walk on its hind legs and that its skin could even withstand musket fire.

It was also said that some volunteers, desperate to lure the creature, dressed up as women. Indeed, legend goes even further to suggest that the Bête du Gévaudan became so difficult to capture that Louis XV sent his personal bodyguard, François Antoine, to assist the faltering locals. But Antoine couldn’t bag the bastard either.

A giant wolf? A pack of wolves? An escaped tiger from the zoo? Or was it a blood-thirsty werewolf-farmer? Some historians suggest that the story was fabricated by Royalist newspapers, drumming up support for the king in rural France.

We took it to represent the hunger fast approaching our bellies, and the darkness encountered by many cyclists when the calories are low. So, after exhausting our knowledge of this terrible tale, we pedalled as fast as possible on the paved road back to our lodgings, to satiate our very own beast.

In October of 1767 a huge wolf was shot and killed by a local farmer near Langogne, and it is said that human remains were found inside the animal’s stomach. Perhaps this was the Beast. Perhaps not. Some people were convinced that the Beast of Gévaudan simply disappeared into the hills.

Did we ride a little quicker than usual that day? Did our hunger get the better of us? Riding in the Massif is always an adventure beyond the ordinary, but when you are here, perhaps with no one else around, you start to imagine things. To think the beast lives on in the mountains here makes this place even more magical, if a little sinister.

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