There’s a certain wild romance in staying somewhere with no running water, no electricity — nowhere else to be but in the trees, breathing forest. Les Cabanes de Labrousse, up in France’s Ardèche, delivers exactly that — a peaceful, unplugged lodge among treetops, where your biggest decision is whether to climb a ladder or sip coffee in the dawn light.
The resort is tucked deep in woodland, offering eight treehouses, each carefully built to blend into the forest. Some are intimate cabins for two; others can host families of up to five. Rustic, yes — but not lacking. The charm is in the rawness: living simply, slowly, under branches and sky.
Three of the huts — Hut Écureuil, Hibou Hut, and Renard Hut — lean into adventure. You climb rope ladders to enter. Yep, rope ladders. There’s a moment when your heart beats louder and you think, “Did I really sign up for this?” But stepping inside, you find shelter, wood, quiet light. And that thrill becomes part of the memory.
The other five huts are a little more grounded (still up in trees, but easier access). The Castor Family Hut is clever: two cabins connected by terrace. One has the double bed for grown-ups; the other has benches or bunk-style sleeping for kids. Two others stretch to five guests. The layout gives both closeness and breathing room.
And here’s one of those touches that’s equal parts whimsical and practical: a mule delivers breakfast to your treehouse every morning. You’ll wake, life quiet, and hear soft hoof clops — breakfast arriving on forest paths. It’s a detail that makes you feel seen, cherished.
If you manage to leave the treetop hush, the Ardèche region gives you reasons. Gorges carve dramatic paths through mountains. The Ray-Pic waterfall — 60 meters tall — plunges into green pools. Canoeing and kayaking along rivers, wandering trails, discovering hidden springs: here, nature becomes your playground.
Rates are startling modest: starting around €75 per night (with a two-night minimum). For what you get — treehouse, forest, silence, breakfast delivered by mule — it feels less like a cost and more like a rare gift.
If you stay, bring headlamps, good shoes, a waterproof jacket (weather in the trees can surprise you), maybe a journal. Climb up, sit by windows that have no glass, listen to wind in leaves, maybe a bird calls. Let absence of screens become presence of forest. Let distance from electricity make your thoughts stretch.
Les Cabanes de Labrousse isn’t glamping in disguise. It’s letting the forest invite you in. Eat modest, sleep on wood, watch stars thicker than you’ve known. And when you leave, you’ll carry the hush with you, like a secret.
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