Blois, France…another day another chateau

 

September 2, 2025 – Chambord

We woke to a moody-looking morning, and after a decent breakfast, faced a decision: should we stick with our plan to visit Chambord, or would the threatening skies turn us back? No point dithering—we packed our wet-proofs and set out. The drive was easy, barely half an hour, and soon we were in the parking lot. Tickets were quickly obtained, with virtually no lineup to speak of.

Château de Chambord, the largest of the Loire Valley châteaux, was commissioned by King François I in 1519 as a hunting lodge, though its grandeur far exceeded that modest purpose. Its design reflects both medieval fortress elements and Renaissance innovations, famously featuring a double-helix staircase attributed to Leonardo da Vinci. Despite its vast size—440 rooms, 365 fireplaces, and an ornate roofline bristling with towers and chimneys—the château was rarely used by the royal court. Over the centuries, it became a symbol of royal ambition and extravagance, admired for its bold architecture and unique blend of styles.

Chambord is one of those châteaux that leaves you speechless—an immense, soaring fantasy in stone. Much like yesterday at Chenonceau, I couldn’t resist, firing off shot after shot. Its spires, turrets, and towers rise like a fairytale skyline, each angle more dramatic than the last…

Once inside the inner courtyard, there is quite a bit to absorb, in particular the double-helix spiral staircase below:

 

These days, many châteaux look for creative ways to attract visitors and generate cash flow, and Chambord is no exception. One such initiative is its horse spectacle, which we decided to attend. A separate entrance leads through an informal garden to a purpose-built outdoor auditorium, covered seating for about 250 people, with the château projected as a cinematic backdrop.

The show combines equestrian performance with a filmed retelling of Chambord’s 500-year history. The horsemanship was excellent, and the integration of film, narration, and live action made for a surprisingly moving experience.

Afterward, as we wander out, the riders are cooling down their horses, chatting with guests, and offering photo opportunities—a charming conclusion to the show.

To complete the visit, I left Annie on the ground floor and climbed up to the ramparts. From the top, the views were magnificent, with endless turrets, spires, and chimneys crowding the skyline. Equally impressive are the gardens (front and rear), replanted in 2017, which look stunning. However,  the horizon was beginning to look ominous, so discretion being the better part of valour, we decided to call it a day and made our way back toward the parking lot.

As the rain began to fall, we slipped into our weatherproofs and congratulated ourselves on our timing—until we realized we had a small problem: we couldn’t find the car. In our enthusiasm earlier, we had forgotten to note exactly where we’d left our little blue Clio. With the rain now hammering down, I left Annie under an overhang and set off in search. Key fob in hand, I paced the rows flashing the lights—without success. The good news was that I wasn’t alone; other hapless visitors were equally adrift in the sea of vehicles. Eventually, the distinctive red license plate of our Clio caught my eye. Annie was retrieved, and though I was a bit wetter for the effort, all was well in the end. Another life lesson learned.

Back in Blois, we revived ourselves and later ventured out for dinner at a Japanese-Vietnamese restaurant. It may have seemed an unusual choice, but it was packed with locals and turned out to be surprisingly good. In the end, we felt fortunate: the weather had held for our tour of Chambord, the horse spectacle was unforgettable, and even with our comic finale in the car park, it was another great day in the Loire.