I'm going to add this to this thread, because it's about Cardou, and it happened to me, and it's probably nonsense, but it helps to continue building a picture about odd things that happen around that mountain, and odd claims that are made about it.
I don't have many RLC anecdotes, because I rarely interact with other people when I'm down there; mostly just drift about doing my own thing, going for walks, looking at views, etc. But every now and then you meet someone and talk them, and it can be rewarding (for example, met the late Jean-Luc Robin there once, and had the best RLC conversation of my life).
Once I met someone who told me something about Cardou. I didn't (and don't) really believe it, but it happened, and it was slightly interesting at the time.
I was in RLC, would have been May 2004, a Saturday morning, and back then you could go into the cemetery by the church. It's a very beautiful spot, and particularly so on that sunny day, with all the spring flowers growing out of the top of the cemetery wall blowing about in the breeze. Lovely. One of the nicest days I've spent there. Anyway, I go into the cemetery, and there's this big tour group getting shown around, plus there's me, and there's this old man standing by the north-east corner of the church, smoking a roll-up. So I'm wandering about, waiting for the tour group to leave so I can go and look at Sauniere's (former) grave, and they eventually go, and I'm looking down at the grave, and this old man suddenly rocks up beside me, starts talking to me. I can speak, read and write French a tiny bit, but I find understanding the spoken word next to impossible, especially in the south, and I tried to tell him this, but he went on undeterred.
Now, I know this is making a judgement based on appearance, but this guy had a very tanned and weather beaten face, and the sort of hands that spoke of a life of hard physical labour. I'd guess he wasn't part of the tour group that had just left, but was from the locality. What I'm saying is, he didn't strike me as your typical esoteric type; he seemed like a very down to earth kind of guy.
And he keeps going on, and on, and on about, not Cardou, at first, but Bugarach. About ten times he must have mentioned it, like a mantra. And that was a little bit interesting, but then we start walking around the churchyard together, and he's still nattering away, and I'm doing a lot of nodding and smiling, and understanding about one word in half a dozen, and we get to the lower part of the cemetery, that looks out over the top of Blanchefort to Cardou, in the middle distance.
And then he pointed a tremulous nicotine stained finger over at the mountain, and said something I did understand, and will always remember. And he said it with absolute conviction in his voice.
"Cardou. C'est le tombeau du Christ". (Cardou - it's the tomb of Christ)
I really don't think this guy had read "Tomb of God". My guess - and of course it's only a guess, given that I didn't really know what he was talking about - is that he'd grown up with that story, genuinely believed it.
I don't believe it, myself, but it struck me the way he obviously did. It seems to be a legend with some resonance.
Anyway, of little import, but another small brick to add to this thread about Cardou.