Vachères, living with space

Vachères is one of those villages that always sounded local, yet somehow far away. Growing up, going to Vachères felt like an expedition. You didn’t pass through by chance. You decided to go there, knowing it would take a little longer, that the road would climb, and that the landscape would gradually open up.

Perched high above the surrounding countryside, Vachères feels exposed and calm at the same time. There is space here. Space in the landscape, space in the streets, and a sense that life moves at a slightly different pace. It has always felt like a meeting point between Provence and the Alps, made even more tangible by the village’s elevated position.

Vachères sits at around 830 metres above sea level, on a limestone promontory that looks out across Haute-Provence. On a clear day, the views open south across the Luberon, while to the north you look towards the Montagne de Lure, with the first outlines of the Alps beyond. This elevated position has shaped both the village’s history and its character.

Like many villages in this part of Haute-Provence, Vachères has medieval origins. Its location made it defensible and visible, and traces of its past are still readable in the way the village is laid out, with narrow streets and buildings grouped together for shelter from wind and weather. Life here has always been closely tied to the land. Agriculture, grazing, and seasonal work shaped daily rhythms long before tourism ever reached these parts, and that practical relationship with the landscape still defines the village today.

One of the more unexpected features of Vachères is its small local museum, the Musée Pierre Martel, which houses fossils discovered in the surrounding area, including remains dating back millions of years. It is a quiet reminder that this landscape has been shaped by time on a scale far greater than human history. The village church, Saint-Christophe, dates back to the thirteenth century. After partially collapsing in the last century, it was restored and now serves as a cultural space rather than a conventional parish church. Like much in Vachères, it has adapted discreetly, without spectacle.

The altitude also gives the village a particular quality of light. It feels clearer here, more open, especially in the early morning or at the end of the day.

Vachères is around a thirty-minute drive from Apt, depending on the route you take. The road climbs steadily, passing through quieter stretches of countryside, small hamlets, and open farmland. As you leave the busier parts of the Luberon behind, traffic thins out and the sense of distance becomes tangible. By the time you arrive, it is obvious that this is not a place designed for passing through quickly.

The architecture of Vachères is simple and functional. Stone houses with pale façades line narrow streets built to protect from the elements rather than to impress. There is nothing showy here, and that restraint is very much part of the village’s appeal. Walking through the village, you quickly notice how quiet it is. Doors are closed, shutters are half drawn, and life happens mostly behind walls. It feels lived in rather than arranged, a place shaped by habit rather than by visitors. At the heart of the village, the main square opens out onto wide views, a place to pause rather than rush.

Vachères has a small weekly market held on Thursday mornings. It is modest, with only a handful of stalls, but it feels entirely local. This is not a destination market. People come to buy bread, produce, and cheese, and to exchange news. What is on offer reflects the seasons and the realities of rural life, without any sense of performance.

We have always loved wandering and exploring this part of Provence. The surrounding villages share the same feeling of distance and openness, and the roads linking them are rural, quiet, and liberating. From Vachères, it is easy to drift towards places like Saint-Michel-l’Observatoire or Oppedette, without feeling the need to arrive anywhere in particular. Compared to the more frequented parts of the Luberon, this area remains noticeably calmer. There are visitors, especially in summer, but they tend to be discreet, and far fewer in number.

One of the reasons we keep coming back is that it feels cooler up here in the summer, both in temperature and in atmosphere.

Vachères changes noticeably with the seasons. Summers are bright and open, with long evenings and a cooling breeze brought by the altitude. Winters are cold and often rough, reinforcing the feeling that this is a place shaped as much by climate as by people. Spring is brief but striking, with almond, cherry and apricot trees flowering around the village and along the surrounding roads, softening the landscape before it fully turns green. Autumn is particularly striking here, as the colours of the landscape shift, sheep empty the fields, and mushrooms begin to appear in the nearby forests, something I still associate with long Wednesday afternoon walks foraging with my grandfather when I was little.

I have always associated Vachères with my grandfather, Robert. Well into his seventies, he would go out cycling every Sunday morning. He would leave around seven, often before the house had properly woken up, and return in time for lunch. It was a selfish pleasure, his own, away from a busy household and the long list of jobs my grandmother would inevitably have for him.

He loved cycling to Vachères. He loved the challenge of the climb, nearly six hundred metres of elevation, and the feeling of effort rewarded by space and light. On the way, he would sometimes stop at a local boulangerie for a croissant, and I like to think he may also have stopped at a bar for a glass of wine or a cold beer. The idea still makes me smile, even if I’m not entirely sure. The roads suited him: quiet, rural, and liberating.

One day, I will buy a road bike and ride his routes up there. If only Strava had existed then, and his rides had been saved, I would happily follow his wheel and see how much quicker I am compared to him.

Vachères is not a village that tries to charm. It does not need to. Its appeal lies in its openness, its calm, and the way it gently asks you to slow down. This is a Provence of distance and horizon rather than intimacy and detail. A place where space itself becomes part of daily life.

 

Vachères, perched above Haute-Provence