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Turning desert into forest 02c: The legend about Elzéard Bouffier in the Southern Alps (Southern France)
The original text (translation)

The spirit of planting oak forests for new water sources - "The man with the trees" / "The man who planted trees"

Karte von
                          Frankreich mit dem Waldgebiet zwischen Durance
                          und Drôme  Der
                                    Mont Ventoux, Karst und Wälder,
                                    1909m über Meer  Buch "Der
                        Mann, der Bäume pflanzte", französisch:
                        "L'homme qui plantait des arbres"
Map of France with the forest area between the rivers of Durance and Drôme [x001] - Mount Ventoux, karst and forests, 1909m above sea level [4] -
Book "The man who planted trees", original French
: "L'homme qui plantait des arbres" [5]

2c) The legend about Bouffier, original text (translation): The spirit of planting oak forests for new water sources - "The man with the trees" -- The walk in the barren Southern Alps - abandoned and dilapidated villages -- The shepherd, his farm, his well -- Sorting acorns - making holes with an iron rod - setting acorns -- 10,000 out of 100,000 oak trees grow -- First World War 1914-1919 -- The new oak forest at Mont Ventoux - 11 kilometres long, 3 kilometres wide -- New sources, new water, new life -- A crisis year: 100,000 maple trees are not coming -- 1933: A forester - and a stone hut 12km away -- 1935: A forester boss and a picnic -- 1939-1945: Short danger for the forest at Mont Ventoux because of wood gas - but it was unprofitable -- June 1945: The transformation of the villages in the Mount Ventoux region - example Vergons: fragrant breeze, forest noise, rippling water, vegetable garden with flowers

The message: forest for water and life
Allegedly the character of the shepherd Bouffier was invented by Jean Giono [web01/02]. The location are the Southern Alps of France. The locations are not clear because the most mentioned locality of Vergons is not in the territory described at the beginning. It seems that the poet Giono was bad in geography and for that reason it seems that everything is really invented here and the localities must be considered symbolically. The message of this legend is simply the high value of forest for water and life.


Original text

translated and presented by Michael Palomino (2018)

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2c) The legend about Bouffier - the original text - translation

Buch "Der
                        Mann, der Bäume pflanzte", französisch:
                        "L'homme qui plantait des arbres"
 
Book "The man who planted trees", original French: "L'homme qui plantait des arbres" [1]

Jean Giono
The man who planted trees
Edition BeQ [p.1]

Jean Giono
The man who planted trees

Electronic Library of Quebec
Classic collection of the 20th century
Volume 49: Version 1.01
http://permaculteur.free.fr/ressources/Giono-arbres.pdf [p.2]

In order for a person's character to reveal truly extraordinary qualities, one must be fortunate enough to be able to observe his actions over many years. If the actions contain no egoisms, if the guiding idea of generosity is unprecedented, if one can be absolutely certain that no reward has been sought anywhere through the actions, and if these actions have left visible traces in the world, then we are undoubtedly faced with an unforgettable character. [p.3]

The walk in the barren Southern Alps - abandoned and dilapidated villages

About forty years ago [in 1913], I walked for a long time, on completely unknown heights, in this very ancient region of the Alps that stretches as far as Provence.

This region is bordered in the southeast and south by the central section of Durance River between the locations of Sisteron and Mirabeau; in the north by the upper part of the department Drôme, from the beginning as far as to the village of Die; in the west by the plains of the Comtat Venaissin and the hills of Mont Ventoux. It covers the entire northern part of the department of Basses-Alpes, the south of the department of Drôme and a small enclave of the department of Vaucluse.

Das Wirkungsgebiet von Bouffier
                  von der Durance bis zur Drôme   Das
                  Wirkungsgebiet von Bouffier von der Durance bis zur
                  Drôme mit dem Waldgebiet
Bouffier's sphere of action from Durance River to Drôme River - with the marking of the forest area [2,3]
Der
                    Fluss Durance bei Manosque  Tal der Durance in der Haute Provence  Fluss Drôme bei Saillans unterhalb von Die  Fluss
                    Drôme mit Kajakfahrern
Durance River Durance at Manosque [4] - Durance Valley in High Provence (Haute Provence) [5] - Drôme River at Saillans below the location of Die [6] -River Drôme with kayakers [7]
When I started my long walk in these barren areas, they were naked and there were monotonous moors, at an altitude of about 1200 to 1300 meters. Only wild lavender grew there [p.4].

Lavendelfeld im
                  Drôme-Tal  Vergons um 1910 - der Berg ist praktisch
                  OHNE Wald
Lavender field in the Drôme valley [8] - the location of Vergons around 1910 - the mountain is practically WITHOUT forest [9]

I crossed this region in the broadest sense and after three days of walking I found myself in a bleak situation without example. I camped next to an abandoned village that was abandoned and half dilapidated, like a skeleton. I hadn't had any water since the day before and had to find some. These houses, although in ruins, like an old wasp nest, made me think that there must have been a fountain or well there in the past. There was a well, but it was dry. The five to six houses, without roofs, gnawed to pieces by wind and rain, the small chapel with its collapsed bell tower, could only be seen in it's outlines. All this was arranged in the same way as in other villages where there was still life. But here all life had disappeared.

It was a beautiful day in June with lots of sunshine, but in this area without shelter so close to the sky the wind blew with unbearable brutality. His rumbling in the ruins of the houses was like a wild animal that was protesting against being disturbed during his meal.

The shepherd, his farm, his well

Landhaus in der
                  Provence  Ein Schäfer mit
                  einer Schafherde in Castellane beim Alpaufzug, Haute
                  Provence 
Country house in Provence [10] - A shepherd with a flock of sheep in Castellane going up to the Alps, High Provence (Haute Provence) [11]

I had to leave my campsite. Five hours later [p.5] I had still not found any water and there was no hope of finding it. Everywhere the same drought was prevailing, the same woody grasses were dominating. Then I saw something like a little black figure in the distance. I thought it was the trunk of a lonely tree. By chance I approached it. It was a shepherd. With him about thirty sheep lay on the warmed up ground.

He let me drink from his drinking bottle, and a little time later he led me to his sheepfold, which lay in a depression of the plateau. He drew his water from the well - excellent water - from a natural, very deep hole, over which he had installed a rudimentary winch.

This man spoke little. This is the habit of the loners, but we felt full of confidence and trust in this place. It was an unusual place in this region where hardly anything grew. He did not live in a hut, but in a real stone house, where one could see very clearly how his work worked [p.6].

He had renovated a ruin he had found there. The roof was solid and waterproof. The wind hit the house and made a rushing sound on the tiles like on a beach.

His household was fine, his dishes were washed, his parquet floor was swept, his gun was greased; his soup cooked on the fire; I noticed then that he was also freshly shaved, that all his buttons were tightly sewn, that his clothes were patched with meticulous care so that the repairs were invisible. [Thei were not so invible, so...]

He shared his soup with me, and when I made a joke about smoking, he said he didn't smoke. His dog, who was as quiet as he was, was benevolent, without malice.

It was immediately clear that I would spend the night there; the next village was still more than a day and a half away on foot. And I was also very familiar with the character of the few villages in this region. There are four or five scattered places here [p.7], far apart on the sides of these heights, in the white oak forests at the ends of the trafficable roads. They are inhabited by lumberjacks who produce charcoal. These are places where people do not have a good life. Families who have to live together in this extremely harsh climate, both in summer and in winter, spoil their selfishness in a vacuum. The result is an inappropriate ambition, a constant desire to flee from this place. The men bring their coal with their trucks into the city and then return. The strongest people break under this eternal Scottish shower. Women are planning revenge actions. Everything is in competition, both in the sale of the coal and on the bank in the church, because of the virtues that fight each other, because of the vices that fight each other, and because of the general hustle and bustle of vices and virtues, there is no rest. Moreover, the wind also irritates the nerves. There are epidemics [p.8] with suicides and many cases of madness, it is almost always ending fatally.

Sorting acorns - making holes with an iron rod - setting acorns

Eicheln mit
                  Eichenblättern  Der Mont
                                Ventoux, Karst und Wälder, 1909m über
                                Meer
Acorns with oak leaves [12] - Mount Ventoux (Mont Ventoux), karst and woods, 1909m above sea level [13]

The shepherd who did not smoke fetched a small bag and spread a pile of acorns on the table. He began to examine them one by one with great attention and separated the good ones from the bad ones. I smoked my pipe. I offered to help him. He told me it was only his business. Indeed, given the care he has taken in this work, I did not insist on helping. That was our whole conversation. When he had a heap of quite large acorns on his good side, he counted them in packs of ten. He still eliminated small acorns or those that were slightly torn, as he examined them very carefully. When he had a hundred perfect acorns in front of him, he stopped and we went to bed.

This man's company gave peace. The next day I asked him permission to rest with him all day long. He found it natural. Or more precisely, he gave me [p.9] the impression that nothing could bother him. This break was not absolutely necessary for me, but I was fascinated and wanted to learn more from him.

[The next morning] he let his flock out and led it to the pasture. Before he left, he soaked the small bag [with the acorns] in a bucket of water, where he had put  the carefully selected and counted acorns the night before.

I noticed that as a stick he carried an iron bar which was as thick as his thumb and about one and a half meters long. I was rested and walking parallel to him on a street. The pasture of his animals was in the background in a gorge. He left the small herd in the care of the dog and came to me. I was afraid that he would blame me for my indiscretion, but not at all: that was his way and he invited me to go with him when I had nothing better to do. He went two hundred meters further, up the hill.

When he reached the spot where he wanted to go, he began to stick his iron rod into the ground [p.10]. He made a hole in which he put an acorn, then he closed the hole again. He planted oaks. I asked him if the land belonged to him. He answered no. Did he know who owned it? He did not know. He assumed it was community land, or maybe it belonged to people who didn't care. He didn't care to know the owners. He simply planted a hundred acorns with the utmost care.

10,000 out of 100,000 oak trees grow

Haute-Provence, junger Eichenwald auf weissem
                  Karstboden mit Mont Ventoux im Hintergrund
Haute-Provence, young oak forest on white karst soil with Mont Ventoux in the background [14]

After lunch he started sorting his seeds again. I think my questions weren't stupid because he answered them. For three years he has been planting trees in this solitude. He had planted a hundred thousand of them. Of the hundred thousand, twenty thousand had risen. Of these twenty thousand, he still expected to lose half of them because of animals eating them or because of other difficulties, which could not be predicted even with the best providence. So out of 100,000, 10,000 oaks remained, which continued to grow in this place where there had been nothing before [p.11].

Then I was worried about the age of this man. He was obviously over fifty years old. Fifty-five, he said to me. His name was Elzéard Bouffier. He had owned a farm in the plains. He had realized his life there. He had lost his only son and then his wife. He had retreated into solitude, where he enjoyed living slowly, with his sheep and his dog. He had realized that this land would die because of lack of trees. Since he had no very important professions, he decided to improve this situation.

At that time, despite my young age, I knew how to deal tenderly with the soul of a person living alone. But I made a mistake. Especially at a young age I had to imagine the future in terms of myself and a certain search for happiness. I told him that these ten thousand oaks would be great in thirty years. He simply replied to me that if God gave him thirty more years of life, he would plant so many more trees [p.12] that those 10,000 would be like a drop in the sea.

He was already studying beech growing and had set up a tree nursery near his house, the beech trees of the beechnuts. The new trees, protected from the sheep by a wire fence, grew nicely. And on soils with humidity underground one should plant birches, he said to me. The next day we separated.

First World War 1914-1919

The following year the First World War began, in which I had to serve for five years. An infantry soldier could hardly think of trees. To be honest, this very thing had left no trace on me; I had taken it for a tick, like a stamp collection - and forgot.

After the war [in 1919] I was at the top for a tiny demobilization bonus, but I also had a strong desire to get some fresh air. [p.13]

Without any preconceived opinion - except this - I returned to this abandoned region.

The country had not changed. But behind the dead village I saw in the distance a kind of grey fog that covered the heights like a carpet. Already the day before I had started to think again about this tree-planting shepherd. "Ten thousand oaks", I thought to myself, "really do occupy a very large space.

The new oak forest at Mont Ventoux - 11 kilometres long, 3 kilometres wide

Der
                  Berg Ventoux / Mont Ventoux 02
Mount Ventoux (Mont Ventoux) 02 [15]

The last five years [during the war], I had seen too many people die, but I could not imagine the death of Elzéard Bouffier so easily, especially since the men of twenty are regarding the men of fifty as old men. He was not dead. It was now even very green there. He had changed his job. He had only four sheep left, but now he had about a hundred beehives. The sheep kept feeding from his trees, so he had to get rid of the sheep. He also told me (and I noticed it) that he wasn't interested in the war at all. He had continued planting without interruption. [p.14]

The oaks of 1910 were ten years old now and bigger than me and him. The show was impressive now. I was literally robbed of my voice, and since he did not speak, we spent the whole day in silence in his forest. It was now divided into three sections - a total of eleven kilometres long and three kilometres wide. We celebrated together that everything had come from this man's hands and soul - without technical means. We understood that people in areas other than destruction could be as effective as God.

He had followed his idea, and the beeches that reached my shoulders and spread as far as the eye could see were the witnesses. The oaks were thick and old enough not to be eaten by animals anymore. If Providence now wanted to cause damage, then hurricanes were necessary now. He showed me some admirable birch groves that were five years old [p.15], that is, they had been planted in 1915 - at that time I had fought at Verdun. He had planted these birches everywhere he suspected damp ground. Now they had grown tenderly, at a young age, and were very determined.

Creation [with it's wars], by the way, was more in the direction of encircling and chaining itself. He didn't care; he stubbornly pursued his task, which was very simple. But as I descended through the village, I saw flowing streams that had always been dry since time immemorial. It was the most amazing reaction operation I have ever seen. These dry streams had once carried water in ancient times. Some of these sad villages, which I mentioned at the beginning of my story, were built on the sites of ancient Gallo-Roman villages, of which there were still traces. Digging archaeologists had still found fishing hooks in these villages, which testified to the fact that one could fish here once - that was not to be thought of until the 20th century [p. 16].

People lived off the water tank.

The wind was also involved in forest formation and scattered some seeds.

New sources, new water, new life

When the springs and water came back, pastures, meadows, gardens, flowers and the reason for life appeared.

But the transformation was so slow that it became a habit without causing any surprise. The hunters who went into solitude hunting for hares or wild boars had noticed the abundance of small trees, but they had attributed it to a natural whim of nature. Therefore, no one has seen this man's work. If they had suspected him, they would have angered him. He was unexpected. Who in the villages and in the administrations could have imagined such a stubbornness being combined with the greatest generosity?

A crisis year: 100,000 maple trees are not coming

Since 1920, not one year has passed [p.17] without a visit to Elzéard Bouffier. I have never seen him weak or doubtful. And yet, God knows whether God will even push this forward! I have not counted his setbacks. However, it is easy to imagine that for such a success it was necessary to overcome adversity; that in order to secure the victory of such a passion one had to fight with despair. During one year he had planted more than ten thousand maples. They all died. The following year he let be the maples to return to the beeches, which were even better than the oaks.

In order to have a more or less precise idea of this extraordinary character, we must not forget that he practiced in complete solitude; so much so that towards the end of his life he had lost the habit of speaking. Or perhaps he didn't see the need for it?

1933: A forester - and a stone hut 12km away

Steinhütte / Schäferhütte am Mont Ventoux
Stone hut / shepherd's hut at Mount Ventoux (Mont Ventoux) [16]

In 1933 he received a visit from an astonished forester. This official ordered him not to make a fire outside for fear that this natural forest might burn down [p.18].

"It is the first time", this naive man said, "that we see a forest growing alone." At that time he wanted to plant beech trees twelve kilometres from his house. To avoid the round trip - because he was seventy-five now - he planned to build a stone hut on the site of his plantations. Which he did the following year.

1935: A forester boss and a picnic

Bewaldete Nesque-Schlucht beim Mont Ventoux
Wooded Nesque Gorge near Mount Ventoux [17]

In 1935 a real administrative delegation came to investigate the natural forest. There came a big fish, responsible for water and forest, a deputy, and a few engineers. Many useless words were spoken. They decided to do something, and fortunately nothing was done except the only useful thing: to put the forest under state protection and forbid anyone to come here to produce coal from it. Because it was impossible not to be surprised by the beauty of these healthy young trees. And this beauty exercised its seductive power over the deputy himself. [p.19]

I had a friend among the forester bosses who was part of the delegation. I explained the secret to him. The following week, one day, we both went in search of Elzéard Bouffier. We found him at work, twenty kilometres from where the inspection took place.

This chief forester was not my friend for nothing. He knew the value of things. He knew how to be silent. I offered the few chicken eggs I had brought as a gift. We shared our three-hour picnic, and then spent a few more hours quietly contemplating the landscape.

The side from which we came was covered with six to seven meter high trees. I still remembered what the landscape had looked like in 1913: like a desert..... The peaceful and regular work, the living air of the heights, the thrift and above all the serenity of the soul had given this old man an almost solemn health. He was an athlete of God. I wondered how many hectares [p.20] he would still forest.

Before I left, my friend made a brief suggestion about some of the tree species for which the area seemed suitable. But he did not insist on it. "For good reason" he told me afterwards, because "this man knows more than I do." After an hour's walk - the thought had solidified with him - he added: "He knows much more than anyone else. He has found the Big Path to be happy!

It is thanks to this forester chief that not only the forest, but also the happiness of this man was protected. He had three forester guards appointed for this protection and controlled and instructed them so that they remained immune to all the bribes of the lumberjacks.

1939-1945: Short danger for the forest at Mont Ventoux because of wood gas - but it was unprofitable

Holzgas-Auto

Wood gas car [18]

Only during the war in 1939, there was a serious danger for this work. Cars were run on wood gas and there was never enough wood. They began felling the oaks [p.21] of 1910, but where they were felling and carrying the trunks out this was so far from any road network that the project turned out to be very bad financially. The forest was kept in peace. The shepherd had not seen anything. He was thirty kilometers away continuing his work peacefully and ignored the war of 1939, just as he had ignored the war of 1914.

June 1945: The transformation of the villages in the Mount Ventoux region - example Vergons: fragrant breeze, forest noise, rippling water, vegetable garden with flowers

Vergons um 1910 - der Berg ist
                      praktisch OHNE Wald   Vergons um 2010 ca.: ALLE Berge
                      sind BEWALDET
Vergons at around 1910 - the mountain is practically WITHOUT forest [9] - Vergons of around 2010 ca.: ALL mountains have FOREST [19]

I last saw Elzéard Bouffier in June 1945. He was 87 years old at that time. So I drove up the desert road again, but now, despite the decay of the war, there was a bus connecting the Durance Valley and the mountains. I hold this relatively fast means of transport responsible for the fact that I did not recognize the places of my first walks any more. It also seemed to me that the route led me to new places. I needed a village name to come to the conclusion that I was still in this once ruined and desolate region. The bus brought me to Vergons [p.22]. In 1913 this hamlet had ten to twelve houses and three inhabitants [that might not be true, see the photo of Vergons around 1910]. They were wild at that time, hated each other and lived from hunting with traps: They were more or less in the physical and moral state of the Stone Age. Around the abandoned houses the stinging nettles grew and devoured the houses. Their condition was hopeless. For them it was only a matter of waiting for death: a situation that hardly predisposed them to virtues.

But now everything had changed: Even the air. Instead of the dry and brutal gusts that once welcomed me, a gentle and fragrant breeze was blowing. From the height it was roaring as if by the sea: it was the sound of the wind in the woods. Finally, surprisingly, I heard the real splash of water splashing into a well. I saw a newly built well with plenty of water, and what really touched me the most was a newly planted lime tree nearby, which had become thick already after four years, an indisputable symbol of a resurrection.

Moreover, in Vergons there were also traces of a [p.23] new bustle which did not work without a certain hope. So, hope had returned. The ruins had been removed, the dilapidated walls had been demolished, and five houses had been rebuilt. The village now [in 1945] had 28 inhabitants, including four young households. The new houses, plastered with fresh plaster, were surrounded by vegetable gardens in which vegetables and flowers, cabbages and roses, leeks and snapdragons, celery and anemones were growing, mixed but well-assorted. It was now a place where people wanted to live.

From there I set off on foot. The war that we had just brought behind us allowed only a limited life, but Lazarus was out of the grave. On the lowered sides of the mountain I saw small barley and rye fields in the grass; at the foot of the narrow valleys were some green meadows.

In only eight years a change to health and swinging life had been realized [p.24]. In the place of the ruins which I had seen in 1913, there are today [1953] clean, plastered farms that show a happy and comfortable life. The old springs, fed by rainfall and snow from the forests, began to flow again. The water was also somewhat canalized. Beside each farm, in maple groves, the well basins are overflowing and irrigating the mint growing near the well. The villages were gradually rebuilt. New population from the plains, where the land prices were high, have settled in the countryside bringing new youthfulness, movement and adventure. On the way there we met well-fed men and women, boys and girls, who knew how to laugh and who had become interested in farmer festivals again. Considering the old population, which now lived in a gentle existence, and the new arrivals, they were no longer recognizable. All in all, more than ten thousand people owed their happiness to the shepherd and tree planter Elzéard Bouffier. [p.25]
Sisteron mit
                    Fluss Durance  Vaison la Romaine, Haute Provence  Die mit bewaldeter Bergkette,
                    Département Drôme
Sisteron with Durance River [20] - the location of Vaison la Romaine, Haute Provence [21] - the location of Die with wooded mountain range, Département Drôme [22]
When I consider that a single man, reduced to his simple physical and moral resources, is enough to turn the desert into a promised land, I find that despite everything, the human condition is admirable. But when I consider all that it took to achieve this result in terms of the consistency of spirit and the determination of generosity, I have great respect for this ancient peasant without culture, who knew how to do this work worthy of God.

Elzéard Bouffier died peacefully in the Hospice of the location of Banon in 1947. [p.26]

This is the 49th published book.
in the classical collection of the 20th century.
from the electronic library Quebec.
This electronic library of Quebek (Bibliothèque électronique du Québec)
is the exclusive property of
Jean-Yves Dupuis. [p.28]

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Sources
[web01] https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Der_Mann,_der_Bäume_pflanzte_(Kurzgeschichte)
[web02] https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/L'Homme_qui_plantait_des_arbres

Photo sources

[1] Book "The man who planted trees", French: "L'homme qui plantait des arbres": https://www.pinterest.de/pin/554294666607945250/
[2,3] Map of the Southern Alps of France with the rivers Durance and Drôme: http://www.prestigeprovence.com/qui-sommes-nous/notre-secteur-dactivite
[4] River Durance near Manosque: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/292241463292663013/
[5] Durance valley in Haute Provence: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/395050198534729875/
[6] River Drôme at Saillans below Die: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/294845106848964246/
[7] River Drôme with kayakers: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/58476495142173578/
8] Lavender field in the Drôme valley: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/512706738821220378/
[9] The location of Vergons at around 1910: https://www.ebay.fr/itm/232708664216
[10] Country house in Provence: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/458382068308271038/

[11] A shepherd with a flock of sheep in Castellane going up to the Alps, Haute Provence: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/177821885261805652/
[12] Acorns with oak leaves: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/345792077638048782/
[13] Mount Ventoux (Mont Ventoux): https://www.pinterest.de/pin/180988478754184605/
[14] Haute-Provence, young oak forest on white karst soil with Mont Ventoux in the background: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/315463148874934330/
[15] Mount Ventoux (Mont Ventoux) 02:
https://www.google.de/maps/place/Mont+Ventoux/@44.1740851,5.2786797,3a,75.4y,90t/data=!3m8!1e2!3m6!1sAF1QipO_VrcOPG6qNO5Y7gvvLM6xhUISbiP6oFJ-bdZG!2e10!3e12!6shttps:%2F%2Flh5.googleusercontent.com%2Fp%2FAF1QipO_VrcOPG6qNO5Y7gvvLM6xhUISbiP6oFJ-bdZG%3Dw128-h86-k-no!7i720!8i481!4m5!3m4!1s0x12ca645aaf6f7367:0xd3f24ac5c0a1bcd!8m2!3d44.1740851!4d5.2786797
[16] Stone huts at Mount Ventoux: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/354095589445317185/
[17] Forested Nesque gorge at Mount Ventoux: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/363102788699281690/
[18] Wood gas car: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/465418942734831981/
[19] Vergons at around 2010 ca.:
https://www.google.de/maps/place/04170+Vergons,+Frankreich/@43.8509315,5.2912224,9z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x12cc6d3832e3712f:0x40819a5fd97ab60!8m2!3d43.913752!4d6.588184
[20] The location of Sisteron with Durance River, Haute Provence: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/498562621222876364/

[21] The location of Vaison la Romaine, Haute Provence: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/518054763369866974/
[22] The location of Die with mountain range, Département Drôme: https://www.pinterest.de/pin/412290540877491430/

[x001] Map of France with the forest area between Durance and Drôme:
https://www.actualitix.com/carte-de-france.html

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