Wendy's Platter…travels

October 23, 2025

There is “upper” Thiers” and “lower” Thiers. We live in “upper” Thiers which is at roughly 420 meters (m) above sea level (1,370 ft in US speak, although I will continue with meters…). Lower Thiers is at 300m elevation. Lower Thiers is about 1 kilometer away from our apartment as the crow flies. However, to drive to lower Thiers is a 3-kilometer drive as you switchback down the hill and lose 120m of elevation. Think of Thiers as a town filled only with streets exactly like the the steep and famous part Lombard Street in San Francisco. And for those of you who have visited Dunedin on the South Island of New Zealand, you can relate, although Dunedin streets were generally straight, but also very steep.

The Durolle River, only 32 kilometers in length starts in the mountains at 800m and drops to where La Vallée des Rouets (Valley of the Wheels) starts at 500m…a drop of 300m in about 14 kilometers. Whereas, the Durolle, which empties into the Dore River, which empties into the Loire River, which empties into the Atlantic Ocean, drops from 300m sea level (0m) in 400 kilometers. This is where living with a mathematician comes in handy. The rate of drop of the water at Thiers is 3,066 times greater in our short little 32-kilometer river, than it is for the rest of the water’s journey to the Atlantic Ocean. THAT is the point of why Thiers became the knife capital of France over the course of the past 600 years…it is the “course” of the Durolle that played the biggest role.

Without the modern convenience of electricity, the rushing water of the Durolle offered “motive” power, the power to drive machinery from the moving water through the use of “rouets” or water wheels.

Water power has been around a long time and has defined where many medieval (and prior!) times, villages were set up so that naturally flowing water could be used for a variety of purposes, such as grinding flour in a mill, to cooling hot iron in forges, and as we saw in the German cultural village we visited, to cutting logs in a sawmill. Here in Thiers, that water power is what was used to grind the knife blades.

La Vallée des Rouets is a small section of the Durolle River below “upper” Thiers and only five kilometers away. The river is at most 3 to 4 meters in width. Here is where the coutellerieres (knife makers) set up small ateliers (shops) where their workmen could grind the knife blades.

The Durolle River as it drops down to create the flow that powers the grindstones.

How it worked: A portion of the water from the fast-flowing Durolle was diverted with a small stone dam into a small channel which caused the water to flow even faster. Due to natural elevation drops, the water from the channel was flowed passed the rouet, the water wheel, and then diverted into a lower channel where the water was diverted back into the river.

The Durolle is diverted above into a small channel then drops into the river below. The rouet, which can be seen on the left of the first photo is spun by that falling water. The channel on the right is part of the lock system for controlling the river flow.

The rouet was used, through a system of gears, to power the large stone grindstones that were placed in the moving water in the atelier. This is where the workers would lie face down on a wooden bench that faced the grindstones. They would drop their blades onto the grindstones which were half submerged into the water to keep the grindstone wet enough to keep the blade cool during the grinding process. This process is what achieved a perfectly honed knife from Thiers. The knifes were sold world-wide for centuries.

The historical photos were found on the internet and in the brochure about La Vallée des Rouets. Note there are dogs in most of the historical photos. Apparently, the workers often brought their dogs to lie on their legs for warmth, and of course, for companionship. When we first arrived in Thiers and we saw this display in a knife shop, I was puzzled. Now I understand. The one thing missing is the dog. It is clear where the saying “nose to the grindstone” came from.

In the historical photos I saw, there could be up to a half dozen men on their benches grinding their knives. Despite the fact that they were “lying down on the job,” it was cold, hard work. These historical photos show how how it was done at the ateliers on the Durolle. A quote from one of the workers:  “We worked four hours, dropped the belt to drink a pint, and ate together.” Another worker explained why they kept at it: “I lived there with freedom and independence, even though you have to be a little crazy to do a job like that.” The work was often passed down through generations in one family.

Gears and things that go around. The boy in Nick is happy.

Nick, always enchanted by machinery and hikes, was excited to see the process even if it was now in ruins. As with everything in Thiers, getting there was convoluted with many switchbacks, many roads that seemed blocked and other roads that seemed like a nosedive downward…and it was only a 12 kilometer drive from our apartment. In this case, we did not blame Google (and therefore not our nephew Skylar who works for Google) for all the crazy directions. There is no way a self-drive Google car could have scoped this out for us!

Aside from the mechanics of the rouets, I was also fascinated with all of the stonework to create the buildings, paths, and terracing to make safer pathways for the workers.

We found the start of the walk and headed down the steep path to the river. The autumn leaves from the chestnut and oak trees covered the rocky path and the sun skittered down through the leaves that were waiting for the next windstorm to release them.

At the bottom of the incline was the first stone atelier or shop, which was the last one to shut down Rouet Chez Lyonnet, closed in the early 1976. The thirteen or so other ateliers were in full force during the second half of the 1800s, though most closed in the 1920s.

Abandoned grindstones were everywhere and have been used as stepping stones, works of art, and picnic tables.

At Rouet Chez Lyonnet were three volunteers working to bring the rouet back to life. At the moment, there were trying to conquer the forest that had started to consume the rocks, buildings and waterwheel. They were extremely knowledgeable as we tried to grasp what they were discussing with other visitors. Our limited French caught about a tenth of what they were saying.

It would have been a treat to see it all working with the water running through it.

The lovely autumn day with dappled sunlight, autumn colors, and swathes of moss covering the old stone buildings, fences, and rouets, was calming. As we came to the end of that path, we headed back up the steep path to the closed visitor center. There was a second trail that led down river to more ateliers and some abandoned paper mills. After seeing the warnings on the trail map of a potentially “dangerous” path, I opted to stay sitting on an old picnic table with my back to the sun and write down my thoughts. Nick headed back down the other path to see the rest.

Nick’s photos of the rest of the ateliers and abandoned paper mills.

As he came back up the path an hour later, he was sweating, red-faced and smiling from his hike. The path would have been too much of a challenge for me, particularly without poles, so I was happy to let him share his photos.

Yet another beautiful autumn walk through history in Thiers.

So the Durolle Valley, the Vallée des Rouets, the workmen, and craftsmen over the last six hundred years have put Thiers on the global map. Get the point?

Tomorrow is Sunday. Will it be a day of rest? Probably not!

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©2025 Wendy Platt Hill