Here we are looking at le Château de Ruphy, jutting out on a tiny peninsula from Duingt on the west side of the lake, as seen from further south on the east side of the lake. Essentially, this château marks the division between le petit lac and le grand lac, with the water past it being the northern grand lac and the water closer to the camera being the southern petit lac. Le Château de Ruphy is a wooden building and is private; no tours are available. Small towns, all smaller than Annecy itself, wrap around le lac d'Annecy. Annecy rests at the northern or north-west edge of the lake, which runs roughly north-south. Going south along the western side of the lake, one passes through Sevrier and St. Jorioz, before hitting Duingt. There, the lake narrows into what is known as le petit lac or "the little lake," the narrower southern part of the lake, divided from its larger, northern portion at Duingt on the west side, marking the narrowest point in the form of the rather elongated lake. Just at this narrowest point, Château de Ruphy -- a wooden château on a tiny peninsula -- juts out from Duingt on the west side of the lake. Finally, the town of Doussard sits at the southern or south-west base of the lake. Travelling from Annecy on the other, eastern side of the lake, one passes through Veyrier-du-lac, Menthon-St. Bernard, and finally Talloires (situated across and a little south from Duingt). Of course, there are beaches and occasional ports all along the way on both sides. Conveniently, a piste cyclable (bike path) begins almost at the beginning of Sevrier, just past the southern edge of Annecy, all the way down the western side of the lake through and past Doussard to the south. The path is off-limits to the likes of motorcycles and features only bikes, rollerblades, small motorized boards, and pedestrians. The piste cyclable, divided into two lanes, is wider than a single lane for a car and provides both a smooth ride and a scenic view of the lake and lakefront buildings. At the northern end of the piste cyclable, it becomes a narrow lane on the side of the road, continuing into the southern edge of Annecy itself before it terminates. Two spots around le lac d'Annecy are of particular note: le Château de Menthon and la cascade de Seythenex. Together, they ballance the beauty of the historic with the beauty of the prehistoric, the man-made with the natural. Le lac d'Annecy, after all, is a combination of both. Le Château de Menthon

Two views of the exterior of the château, as seen from the side. The first shows the left rear (if one were looking from the lake) of the structure, silouetted against the Alps. On the right, one sees that same left side completely. The small tower in the middle is the termination of the lookout corridor, and to the right one can see the edge of the terrace. (See below for an image taken from this corridor looking out onto the terrace.)

Two additional views of the exterior of the château. On the left, we are on the southernmost portion of the terrace looking north along that terrace. The flags are those of the northernmost edge of the terrace (and are the same flags seen in the other pictures). On the right, we are towards the rear and on the right of the château as it is seen from the lake. The café stands to the right (further to the rear) of where this picture was taken.

The view from the northernmost terrace (the one with the flags), looking out across the town of Menthon-St. Bernard and across the lake. Situated at the height of Menthon-St. Bernard, about mid-way on the eastern side of the lake, Le Château de Menthon visually sits dominat over the lake as a whole. A château of three towers, built in separate stages, le château de Menthon has as its claim to fame both its age and its continuity. It was originally begun in the eleventh century (though most of it, of course, dates to the following centuries) and has always been inhabited by the same family (except for a couple rather brief periods of flight). Its architecture is that of the Middle Ages, and it is known as the birthplace of Saint Bernard of Menthon, the patron saint of montaineers. Today, while the same family's descendants still live in the château, it is open for tours, which run frequently throughout the day. To tell the truth, the château has been a bit commercialized: after the tour, one can buy trinkets ranging from pleasant books on the château and postcards to rididulous plastic figurines of knights and plastic swords for children. A nicer bit of commercialization is the café on the side of the rear of the château; there, one can recouperate from a tour and from taking pictures of the view with a café, soda, ice cream treat, and the like.

Two shots of the titular artist, looking out at the lake from different places on the terrace. On the left, we are at the southernmost tip of the terrace, past the southwest corner of the château, looking northwest at me and the lake beyond. On the right, we are on the nothernmost portion of the terrace (where the flags are), looking south at me and the château. Note the key to the scenery on the edge of terrace behind me. (This portion of the terrace is visible below in the shot taken from inside the elevated corridor.)

The interior of the château cannot be photographed, but one can photograph the exterior, including an surprisingly cozy underground chamber with holes for lookouts and an extension of the château on its side with a short, elevated enclosed corridor that runs to a small tower with a narrow staircase for ascent. In this corridor, one finds a short row of positions to regard any armies approaching from the rear -- and, of course, shoot arrows at them -- and an open space on the other side, facing the lake, where one can wave at one's friends below. A pleasant terrace runs across the side facing the lake, offering a pleasing view of the environs.

Here we have two shots of the elevated corridor, extending from the side of the château and terminating in a short tower. On the left, we have a view of the narrow staircase inside that tower, illuminated by light through a rectangular window. On the right, we have a view from inside the corridor looking out at the lake and the tourists gathered below on the terrace, awaiting a tour.

Inside, one finds an interior courtyard, now much smaller -- due to additional construction -- than it had been during the Middle Ages when townspeople could crowd into it to avoid being victims of an attack, leaving the nobles to defend the château (if not the peasants' homes). On the side with the elevated corridor, one finds a pleasing chapel enclosed within the walls and featuring a balcony for the noble family to watch the proceedings from a position with convenient access to their chambers and with all the elevation that nobility demanded (yet had been inconveniently lacking in the early Christian gatherings where nobles blended with Roman slaves as equals during the first centuries after Christ). Also on ground level, one finds a kitchen where servants prepared the food: strictly the space of servants, nobles were not supposed to enter -- though they could watch and inspect the servants and their cooking from a balcony, at the base of which one finds carved the heads of the noble husband and wife so that the nobile family is symbolically watching the cooking servants at all times. (There is great grist for the mill in this, of course, for those interested in the concept of the panopticon and the theories of Michel Foucault.)

Upstairs, one finds a splendid living room area meant to entertain guests and featuring among its many paintings a portrait of the father of the present occupants, a man known for being active in the French Resistance. Of course, the entire room is meant to advertise the wealth and nobility of the family, carried to a degree by nobles in the Middle Ages that would embarrass all but the most relentless self-promoter today. One also finds upstairs the usual bedchambers and can hear about how people slept sitting up, since to sleep flat symbolized death, and about how women, when elaborate wigs were fashionable, slept with them pinned upright and would not undo them for washing or the like for months at a time. The most memorable room, however, is the library, full of extremely valuable books, most of them inherited in one stroke, necessitating the creation of a proper library. There, one can view one of the earliest sets of encyclopedias, banned by the Catholic king for containing too much information on Protestantism, and some early printed books laid out in the fashion of manuscripts and still featuring coloring and illustration by hand.

La Cascade de Seythenex

Along the path to la cascade, one has the opportunity to see some beautiful alpine countryside. As one starts, after following several trails, on the trail that leads to la casade, one gets one last look out at the lake and a solitary house at the base of the valley -- the same valley that the waterfall tumbles into. La cascade itself. Keep in mind that there had been a dry spell when I took this -- the lake itself was about a meter lower than normal -- and the waterfall was nothing compared to what it normally is. Still, it is a powerful sight. Another shot of la cascade, this one taken tilting downward while leaning over the extreme edge of the trail, which terminates on an overhang high beside the waterfall. A shot looking down on the grotto beneath the waterfall, surrounded by undulating surfaces of rock. A shot from la cascade looking out at the valley. A stream empties from the grotto and runs through the valley, passing down another waterfall along the way. La Cascade de Seythenex, on the southeastern side of le petit lac, is actually located a distance away from the lake itself. One cannot reach it by car and has to make the journey on foot. It is not a particularly long or difficult hike, but it is a walk if nothing else. One follows trails until one gets to the side of the mountain on which lies, in the distance, la cascade (the waterfall). There, on begins the hike along the final, unvarying trail. The trail varies from just two or three feet to perhaps five or six in some places, and it begins with a wider section that, while safe, has no guardrail and an impressive drop on the side of the valley. One steps over the roots of trees, careful not to slip. Soon, a guardrail commences, and before long the rock of the mountain begins to act as an overhang, forcing one to duck at times to walk beneath it. As one approaches the waterfall, one has a splendid view to the right, over the guardrail, of the valley below. Before too long, one begins to hear the sound of the waterfall and knows that one is getting close. At last, one turns the bend and sees it. It is some 45 meters tall and falls against rock smoothed by untold millennia of rushing water. The mountain holds the waterfall in its undulating arms, an outcropping conceiling part of the tumbling water most of the way up. Below, a grotto, barely visible between the wavy curtain of cascading rock, a pool of clear water flowing around the crevaces and caves in the rock. From there, the water winds between the two cliffs that embrace it before breaking free and flowing down through the valley, verdant with indistinct plantlife. If one is lucky, one can see adventurers rappelling down the face of the cliff, lowering themselves through the pouring waterfall itself. The braver ones put their backs to the smooth rock and let themselves fall from perhaps halfway, tumbling through the waterfall into the grotto below. There, a brief community is formed between those who have, quite literally, taken the plunge. They talk and explore the grotto before continuing out and travelling further down the stream, looking for the next cascade. The trail becomes increasingly rough, arcing downward as it winds across the face of the mountain, approaching la cascade. At last, one reaches the final portion: a brief climb upwards at perhaps a fourty degree angle onto the overhang that earlier obstructed one's view. For the limb, a couple of chains are provided to cling onto. One watches tourists, having already gone up, sometimes sitting down and sliding down the climb, the downward momentum making the trip more frightening on the way back. Having made the steps upward, holding the chain, one emerges onto the overhang, where the gaurdrail at last stops and jets sideways into the mountain. The trail is at an end, and here one watches the falling water from the closest point one can, short of the summit. One watches the water tumbling incessantly. One surveys the landscape, looks out onto the valley, looks down onto the trail that one took, under and along the rock, leading at last to where one stands. And one admires the size and shape of the rock, the trees and plants growing almost everywhere, some bold trunks holding onto the side of a cliff. From there, it only remains to climb down, follow the trail under the overhangs once more, and hike back.

YOUR ASSIGNMENT THIS TIME

This is the third entry in this series. Two others are available:

La France (Apollonian Bacchanalia #32)

An essay on France and the French.

Le Beaujolais (Apollonian Bacchanalia #56)

Covering the region famous for its wine.

Your assignment this time (in lieu of paying for this article) is to tell someone about PersianCaesar.com. This site has so far been kept free of banners and pop-ups, despite losing money, to provide you with a purer web experience. Please encourage this by encouraging visitors, which at least makes me happy. And thanks. Really, thanks. It's much appreciated.

Discuss this column online on the message board.