The Puy de Montoncel is an extinct volcano, culminating at an altitude of 1,287 meters. In a notebook, I wrote about it:
"Its slopes are covered with a majestic thorn forest, with an archaic, sometimes primal beauty. The rare paths that cut through the woods wind along the slopes, in the shade of the green giants. These paths are the veins of the forest. They are tunnels of abundant oxygen. From meadows to groves, I feel as if I'm floating on an ocean of nature.
At the summit of the puy, I find a plateau devoid of trees as if blown by the wind, and topped with a thick thatch. A huge iron cross rises into the sky, looking mischievously at the wind turbines on the neighboring ridges, which come to life with the sound of the air."
I sit down on a wide carpet of green grass, a veritable velvet to rest my body after this first, sweaty climb. I light a pipe and cheerfully observe the Auvergne volcanoes that swell the horizon. Their supple, rounded shapes give the impression of observing distant hills. Puy-de-Dôme, Monts Dore, Puy-de-Sancy, I amuse myself by guessing the roofs I was clambering over the previous year.