We arrived in Stavelot in the early evening after a long day of hiking in the Ardennes, but even a short stroll around the town before dark was enough to convince us that this was no ordinary place. Sure, its history dates back to 650 AD, and there was an American army halftrack at the entrance to the town, a nod to the vicious fighting that took place here in December 1944, plus there are the ruins of an enormous abbey, around which the town grew up.
Then there were the peculiar white hooded heads wearing masks with long red noses – imagine a large red carrot – hanging from buildings around the town. These are Blancs Moussis, folkloric characters who perform the central role in the Laetare of Stavelot, the town carnival held on the fourth Sunday of Lent. Our timing was off by a week, had we known we might well have planned our trip for the festivities. Next year.
It’s a shame we missed the Laetare, it might be the only time of year when the glorious town square, Place Saint Remacle, isn’t used as a massive car park. It seems self defeating for a town that wants to attract more tourists to make one of its finest features a car park. We began our stroll in the town from the square early the next morning, and soon found ourselves standing in the ruins of the former church of Stavelot Abbey.
The history of Stavelot is the history of the abbey. At least until the French Revolution, when it was abolished and the church demolished. The floorplan of the church remains to indicate its enormous size, but only the former cloisters of the abbey are still standing. They now house a museum. The abbey owes its existence to Saint Remacle, a missionary of the early European church sent to the Ardenne on a ‘civilizing’ mission.
In 650 AD when Saint Remacle arrived here, the local inhabitants were considered to be as wild as the wolves that roamed the wooded hills. The Ardennes wolves would play a role in the conversion of the population. There is a preposterous story about the Devil appearing as a wolf and eating Saint Remacle’s donkey, who then captured the Devil with some rosary beads and made the Devil-wolf carry provisions in the place of the donkey.
Stavelot’s fate during the Battle of the Bulge in December 1944 is more fascinating. In those dark days, real evil arrived during the German counteroffensive in the form of the Sixth Panzer Army’s Kampfgruppe Peiper. It’s commanding officer, Peiper, was a Nazi zealot responsible for the slaughter of civilians in Italy and Russia, as well as the murder of American prisoners in the Ardennes during the battle.
In Stavelot, Peiper was responsible for the murder of more than 100 civilians. Bizarrely, he survived the war, served a short prison sentence for war crimes, was employed by Porsche and then lived under a pseudonym in France. Finally, some French communists killed him in 1976. The terror this convinced Nazi brought to the area is still remembered today.
This includes areas near the Promenade des sommets de la Lienne, our walking route the previous day. We started in Chevron, a tiny village inhabiting a peaceful corner of the Ardennes amongst rolling hills and forests overlooking the Lienne Valley. It came as a surprise to discover this area was once home to manganese mines and foundries. By the 19th century the industry was flourishing, so much so a narrow gauge railway was built.
The industry is long gone and today these hills and valleys are the perfect place for long hikes through beautiful Ardennes countryside. We passed small villages, alongside rivers, through farmland and over wooded hillsides. On one of those hills, Rouge Thier, was a memorial commemorating the persecution of witches in the Ardennes during the 16th century. Slate plaques gave more of the history and legends.
Some of the women who were accused of witchcraft were burned at this very point overlooking the Lienne and Amblève valleys. It’s not hard to imagine the fear that would have pervaded the isolated villages and valleys of the Ardennes as witchcraft hysteria – officially sanctioned by the Catholic Church – swept the region. It was all the easier to imagine in the dense woods where we saw barely another person on a six hour walk.
