(Click on the thumbnail pictures to see a larger view)
(N.B.: Because I wrote much of this on the day that it happened, there may be some inconsistency in the verb tenses, some past, some present. I apologize.)
May 8: Our flight to
Marseille-Provence airport arrived at 9:00 PM
on Friday so we stayed at an airport hotel overnight. Since we could
not take occupancy of the gîte until 4:00 PM on
Saturday, we all took the airport shuttle to Aix-en-Provence to enjoy
the busy Saturday market which fills a large section of the old
centre of this beautiful Provençal city.
French "country"
markets are always interesting, active, social affairs and the
Saturday morning marché in Aix is one of the best.
Unfortunately, the two beautiful churches in the city centre were
both closed as restorations were being done. However, we whiled away
an enjoyable sunny but cool morning before we returned to the airport
and took a late afternoon train from nearby Rognac to l'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue.
The gîte was at the northern edge of the town on a quiet
crescent, a pleasant 15 minute walk from the town centre. There were
roses of every colour in the enclosed garden and the blue shuttered
two storey house was well equipped, roomy, with 4 bedrooms and 2
baths, a large kitchen and dining room and a sheltered patio beside a
large black mulberry tree just beginning to leaf out. We knew right
away we had made a great choice! (For more info on this excellent
gîte check out her web page at
http://www.vrbo.com/25885 )
May 9: Sunday in l'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is market day. Much
of the centre of this large town is covered with stalls, half of them
selling the usual market wares: fresh fruits and vegetables, breads
and pastries, meat, fish and cheeses, the spices and fabrics and ceramics
of Provence, etc., while the other half has the largest
antiques/brocantes market in France outside of Paris. (A brocante is sort of half way between an
antique market and a yard sale.) This provided a grand
opportunity for the women and they grabbed it enthusiastically. I was
not quite as enthralled, nor were the rest of the men.
However, it
did give us the opportunity of exploring this very beautiful town.
The Sorgue river runs swiftly through the town and there are many
canals as well with rapidly flowing water. This water flow turns the
dozen or more large water wheels which once powered the town's silk
and textile industry but now provides a certain atmosphere of idyllic
Provence which tourists (like me) find very attractive. Because of
the attraction of the market for the women, the men had accepted
responsibility for preparing supper for the group. This meant that we
had to abandon the market early (what a shame!) in order to get to the Intermarché supermarket before its 12:00 Sunday closing. We
spent a leisurely afternoon among the beautiful roses of the
gîte and then prepared dinner: grilled chicken salad and
a fresh fruit salad dessert. It was great! The guys are not just
handsome faces after all!
May 10: Carol and I were the only cyclists today.
The
others (except for Moe) had never been to Avignon and so they all
headed there by train for the day. We had been there several times before so
we mounted our bikes instead and headed south out of town (after stopping at
a café for a patisserie and a café au
lait). We stopped at a winery at Caumont-sur-Durance and picked
up 3 bottles of the local wine since it was our turn to make supper. At Chateaurenard we stopped for a pause café before
pressing on to St. Remy-de-Provence. We had stayed there a few years
before so we didn't spend any time again seeking out St. Remy's remarkably
well preserved Roman structures nor the connections between the town
and Van Gogh. With rain briefly threatening, we sped back to the
gîte, sometimes on quiet lanes but more often on busy
roads, in order to pick up groceries for supper. 81 km, pretty flat,
but a nice first day of cycling.
May 11: I had a wobble in my rear wheel on yesterday's St.
Remy ride so I went into town with Moe (who rode Carol's bike) in time to catch the opening
of the local bike shop. The guy looked at the wheel, noting the loose
spokes, and told me to bring the bike back at 2:00 PM. He would fix
it then. Moe arranged to rent bikes for the rest of the group. We all
headed back into the shop so that they could get fitted with the
rental bikes. The bikes were relatively new 15-speeds in good
condition but without much hill climbing capability. We mounted up
and headed east out of town because everyone wanted to visit Gordes,
a popular destination just 15 km away but high above the Lubéron
plain. All went well at first - quiet small roads, lots of wild
flowers - but at Lagnes we encountered the first hill, a fairly steep
climb up through the village and high above it.
There was a nice view
of the village but some of the enthusiasm had worn off for some on
the rental bikes. We descended quickly to the plain just south of the
high Plateau de Vaucluse and then began the often steep 6 km climb to Gordes
(designated as "un des plus beaux villages de France" -
"one of the most beautiful villages of France"). There's a
spectacular view of the village from across the ravine just a couple
of hundred metres away. At this point only Chris, Carol and I were
together. Moe and Ron were below, coaxing the 3 women, all afoot, up
the hill. I had to leave to get back to the bike shop and I met the
others plodding along not far down the hill. They persevered up to the
village and proclaimed it indeed "beautiful". Chris led them back to
town on the easiest and most direct route. Meanwhile, the
réparateur de vélo (who had recently been,
according to the "belts" and photos hanging in the shop, the European
kick-boxing champion and who had, he told us, competed in the world
championships in Australia a couple of years before) had fixed my wheel as best he
could. He said the wheel had suffered a blow and was still "out of
true" despite his best efforts. I am assuming it happened during the
loading or, more likely, unloading from one of the two flights en
route to France. At least it was no longer noisy and rolled
smoothly after his repairs. I also had to replace my handlebar bag. The plastic clamp on the
handlebar had also been damaged in transit and the bag was no longer secure.
With no possibility of getting a replacement part immediately and considering
that the bag was more than 10 years old, I decided to buy a new one. 55 km of interesting cycling - a good day for Carol and me
but it did the other women in. No more biking for them this trip.
May 12:
Moe, Ron and I went into town to return two of the
bikes and to pick up 12 hamburger buns that a boulanger (baker)
had made especially for Moe - it was his turn to cook. The baker had
never made them before and was anxious to know if they were OK. They
were, of course. The French have perfected the art of making bread,
Why won't they share the secret with the rest of the world? The
weather forecast was for rain so the women decided to stay in town.
The Gordes trip was, I think, having a lasting effect on them. Ron
and Chris decided to ride to St. Remy so Moe and I headed north,
first to Pernes-les-Fontaines, an attractive small town with an
interesting church and tower and many fountains - hence the name!
From there we headed to the disappointing town of Mazan which we
quickly left, heading south. Near Malemort we turned and unhappily
began to descend. Unhappy, that is, because we could see our goal for
the ride, the village of Vénasque, perched on top of a small
mountain across the valley, so the more we descended the more we
would have to climb. We chose the route touristique which
involved a steep 2 km climb with 4 switch backs to the village.
Vénasque is another of the "plus beaux villages de
France" and so we found the typical narrow cobbled streets, lots
of flowers and well maintained buildings and the ruins of a tower
atop the hill. There is a belvedere beside the tower from
where there's a great view of the 2000 metre massif of Mont Ventoux which dominates the landscape. This day, however, the top
two-thirds of the mountain were covered by dark threatening clouds so
we decided to head back. In the pretty village of St. Didier I asked
a teenager how to find the road to La-Roque-sur-Pernes. He told me
and then said that there was "une grosse montagne", indicating
with his hand a steep ascent. We headed out and were immediately able
to confirm his description. 3 difficult km later we arrived at the
village with the rain nearly upon us. We chose the quicker downhill
route, back through Pernes-les-Fontaines, arriving at the
gîte a few minutes before the rain. I headed back up the
mountain toward La-Roque-sur-Pernes to an organic winery about 4 km
away where I bought a 5 litre plastic jug of red table wine, just
enough, it turned out, to last the group to the end of our stay, and
got soaked as the rain began just as I descended back to the
gîte. The several steep climbs had made it a strenuous
69 km day.
The vivid coquelicot, the ubiquitous poppy of France
May 13:
Carol, Moe and I were the only cyclists today, the
others opting to sample the many charms of l'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. It
was cool and sunny and the mistral, the ever-present,
all-season wind of Provence, was in full force but fortunately at our
backs as we headed east. We had a fast 8 km on a quiet narrow road
before joining the busy route nationale for a few km. We
escaped that and once again found a quiet lane - so quiet that there
was grass growing on the middle of the road. We have been marvelling
at the abundance and variety of wild flowers in this our first cycle
trip in May. In summer, when we have usually been here, most of these
plants have long since blossomed. We reached our destination,
Roussillon (yet another of the "plus beaux villages" -
there are more than 140 so designated in France), after a steep climb
including 3 switch backs. Every building in this village is in some
shade of orange, from near-yellow to near-red. The famous cliffs
below the town are all in these varied shades of ochre. It's a spectacular
site. We had lunch here and a quick tour around - well, actually,
only Carol took the quick tour. Moe and I relaxed in preparation for
the trip back. As we left Roussillon we turned into the fiercely
blowing mistral for our 35 km return trip. Moe and I
alternated taking the lead in our little three-person peloton
every kilometre but it was still a weary trio that finally pulled
into the gîte after 75 km of cycling. Early to bed that
night.
May 14:
The others hired a taxi to take them to
Arles,
Les-Baux-de-Provence and St. Remy so Carol and I headed north toward
La-Roque-sur-Pernes in 21°C sunshine (70°F
for you Americans in that last little Fahrenheit holdout. Stick with
it guys! Water freezing at 32° and boiling at 212° - nice
easy numbers to remember, unlike those unwieldy Celsius numbers,
0° and 100°. Sorry. Pet peeve. Usual rant! Former science teacher!) We
climbed steeply for 3.5 km before levelling off somewhat for 3.5 km
of gentle climb through pine forest with the profusion of wild
flowers causing us to stop frequently for photos. We had a short
descent through cherry orchards before a final short climb to the
perched village La-Roque-sur-Pernes. I made a minor adjustment to
Carol's complaining derailleur (successfully.
Quelle surprise!) and we headed out on a tiny lane
toward Beaucet, once again climbing and descending through cherry
orchards. The Pays de Sorgue is the pays de cérisiers,
the land of cherry growers. In Beaucet we chatted with an elderly
American couple who were staying nearby. He gave me directions from
the village to Vénasque since there didn't seem to be any
informative road signs around and she recommended the brioches
at the local boulangerie. Delicious! After a short climb we had a fast
twisting descent to the base of the mountain on which Vénasque
is perched.
The climb to the village with 4 switch backs was as much
fun as it had been two days earlier. This day from the
belvedere beside the ruins of the tower we could just make out
the summit of the huge Ventoux massif through the haze 15 km
away. Carol wandered through this pretty little village taking
photos. I looked into the 13th c. church - it was small, dark and
stark. I had a beer by the fountain while waiting for Carol and I
watched a group of German teenagers struggle up the hill on rented 5
speed bikes. Tough going! We had a speedy descent from
Vénasque and an easy ride into St. Didier where we had a
coffee on the quiet shaded main street. More photos by Carol. I got
her a digital camera for her birthday in November and she's really
enjoying it. With two 256 Mb memory cards we'll never be able to sort
through all the shots at the end of the trip. (As it turned out,
the thief in Aix simplified the sorting process by stealing the camera with one of the
cards in it.) On to Pernes-les-Fontaines, a small city, once walled, with stone gates,
twisting narrow streets, the keep of the castle of the Counts of
Toulouse and dozens of fountains giving it a medieval feel. This 50
km ride was the best day of cycling of the week.
May 15-16: We had to leave the gîte by 10:00
AM (so that they could prepare it for the next guests). We
all took a noon train to
Marseille and another on to Nice where we spent the night. Carol and I arranged
to leave our bikes and some of our luggage at the hotel since we weren't
planning any biking in Italy and we would be returning to that hotel to start the
third stage of our trip. The next morning we were on the trains again, first
from Nice to Genova, then to Monterosso and finally a short ride to
Vernazza in
the Cinque Terre where we were met by Peter & Heather Stark who
joined us for our Italian adventure.