Englebert's French Travel Blog

Etang de Thau: 30 km south-west of Montpellier

Article posted 25th July by Englebert Norris

I'd been having problems of a personal nature, not the sort of thing that you'd want to tell the world, but I needed to confide in somebody so I dumped my lorry at the Montpelier depot and sought advice from Therese, the purchasing clerk.

She asked me some questions about my diet and when I confessed to frequent visits to McDonalds and several greasy spoons, she offered to buy me a plateful of oysters at a little place she knows in Bouziques, a small town on the shores of the Etang de Thau, a lagoon situated 30 km south-west of Montpelier. How could I refuse?

I still had my doubts about whether my little problem could be so easily solved. Particularly when Pierre, our host, told me that oysters from the Etang de Thau taste better than those caught on the Atlantic coast or in the bays of Normandy.

He was obviously giving me the usual tourist flannel, raising my hopes only to dash them again. In fact, he was so glib about the whole thing that I felt like stalking out in a rage, but Therese told me that he was a genuine guy and that I should listen to what he said.

Apparently, the Etang de Thau is an inland sea, 20 km by 7 km, separated from the Mediterranean by a narrow strip of accumulated silt. Pierre reckons that the salt water mixes with fresh water from underground springs, and drained ground water from the surrounding chalk hills to create the perfect conditions for the huge quantities of plankton which fatten up the plump, protein-rich oysters.

© André Létzel - FOTOLIA

According to Pierre, the Etang de Thau produces 12% of all the oysters farmed in France and oyster-catching is the main source of income in the villages of Bouzigues, Meze and Marseillan where the shores of the lagoon are lined with rows of brightly painted shacks which house the oyster-catchers boats and equipment.

One thing I immediately noticed in Bouzigues was the dozens of posters protesting against Europe and the petty officials who apparently enforce absurdly pedantic hygiene regulations. Pierre was quick to point out that the slightest infringement can be disastrous for the small independent fisherman since it can lead to a prohibition order, effectively banning him from plying his trade. "And where would that leave people like you?" he demanded. "People who need raw protein not sanitised junk".

It didn't take a genius to work out that politicians are despised in these parts and have good reason to be extremely nervous. Pierre told me how he'd personally pelted several with stinking oyster shells. Being opposed to violence of any sort I looked aghast and suggested that this might be against the law, but Therese nudged me and told me to be quiet. Cleary anyone who messes with the locals is fair game in these parts.

Sensing a change in the atmosphere I agreed that the fishermen are justifiably angry. "Angry! You Bet!" Pierre exclaimed, yelling about how the oyster-catchers are prosecuted for the slightest speck of dirt, while the powers-that-be allow big business to cover the surrounding areas with huge, concrete developments.

"It isn't fair", I agreed.

"No you're right", he replied "it's us against them. We're the guardians of the lagoons, responsible for protecting the fragile eco-system against the threat of pollution and uncontrolled development!"

© Dawn Duncan-smith - FOTOLIA

As I had discovered the fishermen are not intimidated by wealth, power or big business. They have traditionally been the underdogs in these parts. Whereas local wine growers have always been able to export their produce in bulk, and build magnificent town houses on the quays at Bouzigues and Marseillan, the fishermen have only recently been able to harvest muscles, crabs and oysters in large quantities after devising a new method for catching them by fixing posts, ropes and nets to the lagoon floor.

I heartily congratulated Pierre on the stand he was taking and he hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks. We then drowned two glasses of Noilly Prat, a local aperitif made from a secret mixture of herbs and spices left to mature in open casks on the banks of the lagoon.

After we'd eaten, Therese offered to show me around the local museum which had an exhibition on the history of fish-farming in the Etang de Thau. Apparently Bouzigues Museum is the only one in France which provides an anchorage for houseboats and yachts. But I wasn't in the mood for a worthy, educational experience. Having sampled the produce I felt more relaxed and was ready to chill out on the beach, and enjoy the distant view of the Saint-Clair Mountain and its wooded foothills.

Pawel Kucharczyk - FOTOLIA

Therese offered to show me a whale

"You see it's those hills. They're shaped like a big fish", she told me. "Legend has it that they're the metamorphosed remains of a whale which was stranded inland when the entrance to the lagoon silted up".

In return, I showed her a live tiger which was no longer stuck in the mud.