Carol in the Baronnies near Nyons
It had been four years since our last cycling trip to France and we were anxious to go back. Europe offers ideal conditions for a cycle tour with its short distances between villages and towns, generally good roads and a population comfortable with sharing the road with cyclists. And, in our opinion, France offers the best combination of cycling experiences. It is also helpful that I can speak French well enough to function in the country. All of this explains why we were on our way back for our eighteenth cycling tour there. Scheduling circumstances had limited our trip to just 3 weeks so we planned a route that would take us back to some of our favourite places. Because we were travelling in September we decided to stay in the south for better weather probability. As usual, this “blog” will be far too wordy because I do, as my grandson says, tend to “go on and on”. Consider yourself forewarned.
(Click on thumbnail photos to see larger
images. Credit for the photos goes to Carol.)
Sep.6 Once
again we chose the charter airline Air Transat because they fly direct from
Montreal to a variety of French cities. Direct flights are important when
travelling with bicycles. They give airport baggage handlers fewer opportunities
to damage the bikes. We took an overnight flight, landing in Toulouse at 7:30
am. Typically, Carol’s derailleur had been squeezed so that in her lowest gear
it touched the spokes. Since it was Sunday and most stores, including bike
shops, in France are closed both Sunday and Monday, she would have to be
careful for a couple of days until we could get it adjusted. We cycled into the
city and stopped at an open-air market, teeming with people picking up fruits
and vegetables and meat and cheese and bread. We bought a small baguette, some
Roquefort cheese (our fave), a tomato and a nectarine for our lunch and a couple
of pains aux raisins (raisin brioches) to have with our grand crème
(a small café au lait) as we sat in the sun outside a café and watched the
activity. The experience was purely French and a great beginning to our trip. We
wandered about this prosperous city (home of Airbus Industries). There are many fine
churches and other buildings in this city but we had been here many times
before so we whiled away a couple of hours just meandering and one of us (not
me) spent much of that time in the large Sunday market that fills the streets
surrounding the St.Sernin cathedral. We both find the hustle and bustle of the
markets to be entertaining and the way that the vendors display their wares,
especially the fruits and vegetables and the fish, is positively artistic. So
Carol strolls through the markets, camera in hand, taking photos that appeal to
her, all the while keeping an eye out for some unique “find”. In fact, even
where there is no market to enjoy, she still has her camera at the ready to snap
memories. Aren’t digital cameras a great invention? Finally on our way, we
cycled to the paved bike path that runs alongside the Canal du Midi for more
than 50 km east from Toulouse. There were many cyclists and pedestrians enjoying
the sunny Sunday afternoon. The canal is serenely beautiful, its murky green
water so still this day. The most
attractive feature is the long line of evenly spaced plain trees (platanes)
that border the canal. They have thick trunks, large maple shaped leaves and
papery bark that peels off in small pieces, giving the trunks a mottled
appearance. Each curve in the waterway gives a beautiful tree lined vista of the
canal. After about 40 km we left the path and turned north. As we approached
Villefranche-du-Lauragais I saw, for the second time in my life, a badger! -
both times in France – both times road kill! Villefranche is an unattractive
town where there were no open restaurants on Sunday. An easy 57 km today, just
the thing to shake off the cobwebs of a transatlantic flight. High temp: 25°C (77°F)
Sep.7 I
didn’t study the map carefully enough before we left Villefranche so after
about 3 km on a road with heavy fast traffic I took another look and realized we
were on a route nationale and heading back toward Toulouse. We took the
first exit that allowed us to get back on track, crossed the canal and turned
into a stiff easterly breeze that stayed with us for the next couple of hours.
(Cycling into the wind is so unrewarding, unlike climbing that always offers a
downhill at the end of the climb.) We stopped for a petit crème (a really
small café au lait) in Salles-sur-l’Hers where we turned south and began a
gentle 5 km climb to the first of 3 cols, about 200 m (‘m’ is metres
for you Yanks out there) higher than the canal. (A col is a mountain
pass.) Each successive col was higher than its predecessor. We could see
the high peaks of the Pyrénées in the hazy distance from the first, some 50 km
away, then getting clearer at each col as we drew nearer. After the long
fast descent from the last we turned east again and cycled into Mirepoix.
Mirepoix is a medieval bastide and it’s a gem! (A bastide
(pronounced "bass teed") is a fortified town
built by one side or the other during (or near) the Hundred Years War.) The arcaded
central square dates from the 13th and 14th centuries and
is little changed since then. There’s a large open market hall on the square
(idle this day) and the cathedral there is dark and cavernous. We had nice meal,
confit de cuisse de canard (duck leg conserved in - Oh I won't go into
it. Google it! Suffice to say it's a favourite of ours and sadly the only one we
had on this tour) on the terrace of our hotel, Le Commerce. 57 km today; temp. 33°C (91°F)
Sep.8 When we
stopped for our breakfast coffee in the square we were approached by a woman who
had seen the Canadian flag labels attached to Carol’s trunk. She had lived in
Canada for 20 years but had been in England for the past 25 years. Carol enjoyed
chatting with her because she still speaks no French despite our many trips
there and she had no one to talk to except me (and she already knows all my
stories.) The woman and her husband have bought a charming little house just a
block away from the square. They visit 2 or 3 times a year now but will come for
longer stays when he retires at the end of the year.
We headed out toward Carcassonne on a busy highway, up and down the
rolling foothills of the Pyrénées and into a stiff breeze. There were a couple
of climbs where I got off the bike and walked a bit. Because of Carol’s
troubled knees I carry everything on my bike and with my 100 kg weight plus the
panniers, trunk, handlebar bag and the bike itself, I’m hauling over 140 kg
(about 310 lb) up those hills. Now deep into my 70th year, I find
some hills too much. We passed many fields of sunflowers, now brown and drooping
and awaiting the combine but what a glorious sight they must have been in early
August. As we neared Carcassonne we saw our first vineyards - given our route,
the first of many. Carcassonne is a
busy city of 50 000 but is most widely known for La Cité, the medieval
walled and turreted town that sits high above the city. It’s an impressive
sight but each time I see it I think it looks like it was designed by Disney. (La
Cité was used to represent Nottingham in the Kevin Costner “Robin Hood”
film.) At the tourist office we got directions to a bike shop (for Carol’s
derailleur) and found it after a couple of wrong turns. The young man took a
look at it, wheeled it back into the shop and returned a minute later. All
fixed! “Combien, monsieur?” (How much?) He just shook his head and said “Bon voyage.”
For dinner we shared a large Roquefort salad and a pot of mussels in a nice dill
cream sauce, both excellent. After a hot, hilly windy 57 km day we collapsed
into bed at 9 pm, early for us. High temp
30°C (86°F)
Sep.9
We left
our bikes and bags at the hotel and walked up to La Cité, just a few
blocks away. There are ramparts encircling the entire town with crenellations
through which archers could defend the town. Within the ramparts is a moat, now
dry, perhaps always dry, which would have been a killing ground for any
attacking forces because the town within is completely walled with crenellations
as well and where there are turrets there are arrow slits to allow defenders to
launch their arrows. My guess is
that a siege to starve out the inhabitants would have been the best strategy.
Now the town is filled with restaurants and cafés and shops selling souvenirs.
There’s a large chateau that we didn’t visit – after 17 tours in France and 5 others elsewhere in Europe we’re about
chateau’d out. The basilica St.Nazaire et Celse is large and sparsely
decorated but with beautiful stained glass. There was a quartet of male singers
performing without accompaniment and they were excellent.
After checking every nook and every cranny, Carol was at last satisfied
so we left, wandered a bit in the adjacent cemetery then collected our bikes and
bags, phoned our grandson before he left for school and then headed out of town.
We were surprised to see that the vendange (the grape harvest) was nearly
complete. The last time we were here in September it was still going strong 2
weeks later into the month. We arrived in Caunes-Minervois at our B&B,
l’Ancienne Boulangerie (the old bakery), at about 5 pm. It is owned by 2
couples from Northern Ireland but only one of the owners was present. It’s a
very nice spot and we enjoyed his Irish charm. We dined that night at the Hotel
l’Alibert, just up the street. We’d been there before but were still taken
by the setting: an open interior courtyard boasting a water well topped by a cupola
and overlooked by two galleries one and two stories above. The building is
several hundred years old. The owner of the restaurant, Frederic, is the waiter
and his service is flamboyant (as are his shorts, slippers and pink shirt!)
Nice meal, nicely presented. A short day due to the morning tour, just 25
km. High temp 33°C (91°F)
Sep.10 The
other guests at the B&B were two Canadian women from the west coast who were
taking a long planned and long delayed grand tour of Europe. They had also
enjoyed their meal and their stay, so much so that they changed their plans and
decided to stay two more nights. We enjoyed chatting with them (and envied their
plans for the remainder of their trip). We set out from Caunes through the sea
of vineyards of the Minervois wine district. There were still occasional
tractors hauling wagons full of grapes to the co-op and in the odd vineyard we
could see one of the big mechanical pickers straddling a row of vines but it was
clear that the vendange was nearly over. Our host at the B&B had
explained that the long spell of hot dry weather had ripened the grapes and the
vintners were afraid that if the grapes were left on the vines the skins would
thicken too much, giving too much tannin to the wine.
We headed to Rieux-Minervois where we stopped for a pause café
and to take the opportunity to revisit the unusual 13th century
church there. Most Romanesque churches are squat robust rectangular buildings with massive
pillars supporting a low roof. This small building is heptagonal with a
heptagonal cupola over the pink marble altar. The roof is supported by 7
pillars. I was treated to an enthusiastic tour of the church by a woman from the
local tourist bureau – all in rapid French, so I got about a quarter of it. It
is the only church from that period that I have seen that I could describe as
charming. Carol didn’t want to go directly to Minerve, our next destination,
because it would have been another very short day so we headed east to Olonzac
where we stopped at a bar and had a drink and ate our usual lunch: yoghurt,
carrot, nectarine. We headed back west to Cesseras and turned north to make the
steep 4 km climb before turning east again to Minerve. Minerve is Carol’s
favourite village in all of France so we were to stay two nights there. OK by me
because there’s a very good restaurant there (the Relais Chantovent) and I do
like French food when it’s well prepared. There was no one at the
hotel/restaurant when we arrived so we locked up the bikes and found some shade
at a bar for a Popsicle and a beer. (Guess who had the beer.) When the hotelier
arrived he had no record of our reservation. However, I had brought printouts of
all of our e-mail confirmations so he apologized for their error and put us in
the “studio”, a large room that could sleep a family: 3 beds, a large modern
shower stall and a large tub/Jacuzzi, but otherwise sparsely furnished.
Obviously not often used. No option so we said “Fine!” (Carol, with her knee
problems, also had been having hip
problems at home (but not on the bike), so she took advantage of
the Jacuzzi.) Despite the change in ownership of the hotel/restaurant when the
previous owners retired, there was no change in the quality of the meals. And
the setting is spectacular. Minerve sits on a point at the meeting of 2 river
canyons so from our table in the restaurant we could look out over the deep
canyon to the vineyards on the far side. This very defensible location made it a
good choice for a Cathar fortress in the 13th c but the evil Simon de
Montfort (not the one so prominent in English history, but his father), on
behalf of the pope, managed to defeat them by cutting off their access to water
(using a catapult mischievously named “malvoisin” – “bad
neighbour”) and nearly 200 chose to die rather than renounce their religious
beliefs. Don’t get me started on religion! Except for the climb from Cesseras
,
an easy 40 km day. High temp 35°C (95°F)
The canyon of the river Cesse at Minerve
Sep.11 We had arranged to meet our friends, Susan and Tim Wallis that morning. They had pulled up roots in London, Ontario, ten years ago, bravely bought an old house with an attached shed and garage in the tiny village of Oupia in the Minervois wine district and Tim had, in one year, transformed that dirt floor shed into an elegant 3 bedroom gîte equipped with the most modern appliances and furniture and shortly thereafter added a small pool. (A gîte is a house with kitchen, bath, bedroom(s), etc., that can be rented by the week or 2 weeks or month or season, whatever.) Since then he has transformed the loft over the garage into an equally splendid apartment that sleeps 4. Check their site at http://www.lourecantou.com/ or contact Susan at snt.wallis@gmail.com . They cycled up to meet us and we joined them as we climbed back over the mountain and sped down to Oupia for a wonderful lunch on their terrace and a couple of hours of catching up – it had been 4 eventful years since we had seen them. Then back to Azillanet and up over the mountain and down to Minerve. Carol was fighting a cold so the 21 km day gave her a break. Another splendid meal at the restaurant. . High temp 30°C (86°F)
Sep.12 We
chatted a bit with a couple of women from Toronto, part of a group of 6 on a
bike tour (with a guide and a sag-wagon!), touring the Languedoc – and loving
it. We skipped breakfast at the hotel and sped away, hoping to get to Beziers,
50 km away, before the expected Saturday morning market finished at 12:30. Since
Minerve is high on the southern edge of the Haut-Languedoc and Beziers is on the
Canal-du-Midi, just a few metres above sea level, it was promising to be an easy
ride. On one downhill near Minerve I hit 60 km/h and on another 54 km/h. The
roads were generally recently paved and once we turned east almost flat, so we
reached Beziers at 11:30. Rather than a market there seemed to be some sort of a
fair going on. We parked the bikes and Carol went off to see what it was all
about while I sat and watched the bikes and had “une pression” (a
small draft beer). We both do what we do best.
She returned puzzled. It seemed to be a collection of booths advertising
all the activities and services available to the citizens of Beziers. We
wandered this old city, looked in at the massive and beautifully decorated
cathedral and looked for a likely restaurant. Found one. Nice meal. 50 easy km
today. High temp 30°C (86°F)
Sep.13 Typically,
we got a little lost coming out of the city and we were a little later than
expected when we reached Bessan where we had planned to have breakfast.
Actually, at 11:30, we were a lot later than expected. There was a large
busy Sunday market on that had entertainment as well, including American country
line-dancing, of all things, the dancers all in jeans and Stetsons. We had our
coffee and pastry and then Carol sped off to wring as much as she could out of
what time remained in the market while I relaxed, had a draft of Belgian beer,
watched the bikes and the activity of the market. 
The market ended and we
continued on to Agde, a small pretty city near the Mediterranean coast where we
saw a wonderful “trompe d’oeil” (trick of the eye) that had been
painted on the side of a couple of buildings. It was difficult to determine what
was real and what was not. Very clever! We continued south for a few km before
turning east, paralleling the seashore. Soon the road passed right beside the
beach with lots of cars parked right beside the road, making us leery of a door
being suddenly opened in our path. There were lots of people sunbathing on the
beach and a few in the remarkably blue Mediterranean. Don’t people know yet
about skin cancer? We soon saw a
bike path that took us right into the city of Sète. Traffic was heavy there and
the bike lane disappeared so we started walking our bikes past the city’s
active fishing fleet. We saw a crowd of people lining the harbour edge and we
knew right away what was up. Sète is noted for the “joûtes nautiques”
(nautical jousts). 
You’ll have to picture this. A boat is powered by 8 or 10
oarsmen. Sitting on a raised deck in front of the oarsman and facing the back of
the boat are two musicians in straw hats, one with a trumpet, and one with a
drum. Behind the oarsmen at the back of the boat is a long narrow ramp extending
back and up from the boat. Standing at the end of this ramp is a man with a long
blunted lance and a wooden shield. Facing the boat, about 50 metres away is
another boat similarly manned. On a signal, the musicians begin to play. The
oarsmen begin to row. The boats speed toward each other on a path that will make
them pass close together. When they pass each other, the lancers each try to
knock their opponent into the harbour by striking the other’s shield with
their lance. If one falls we have a winner. It’s greatly entertaining. What we
saw this day was an ersatz version. The boats were powered by motors. The music
came from a loudspeaker on shore. There were no oars, straw hats, trumpets or
drums. The oarsmen and musicians had been replaced by a similar number of passengers on the boat. But we were
still entertained. We found our hotel, cleaned up and then set out to find a
restaurant. They line the port, all offering almost the same food at the same
price. I don’t know why we chose the one we did but it was a good choice.
There was a sudden fierce downpour for about 15 minutes while we dined (inside,
luckily). 61 km today. High temp 32°C (90°F)
Gleaning salt from the sea at Aigues-Mortes
Sep.14 We
walked up into the city for a bit of a look around. Sète has some fine old
buildings still retaining their elegance. The
only way out to the east was on a busy route nationale for about 7 km
before we could escape to the south and the seaside. For much of the remaining
ride we were on dedicated bike paths or bike lanes with (mostly) good pavement.
We followed the narrow strip of land that separated the étangs (shallow
salt water ponds) from the sea. This strip is filled with resort residences and
hotels. When we did get a view of the Mediterranean we marvelled at how truly
deep blue it is, unlike the grey-green of the Atlantic and Pacific.
We saw flamingos feeding in the shallow étangs , swinging their
hooked bills back and forth, filtering the shrimp out of the stirred up mud. We
arrived at Aigues-Mortes just before 4 pm.
This walled medieval town was built by King Louis IX (St.Louis) in the
first half of the 13th century because
France lacked a Mediterranean port at the time and he needed one from which he
could launch two crusades. The Rhone delta silted up and it was not long before
Aigue-Mortes was several km from the sea. A canal maintains access now to
support the major desalination industry just south of the city. The 20 m high
hill of salt is visible from far away in this flat landscape. The ramparts
completely encircle the town. There’s a statue of King Louis in the central
square. The old church dates back to the 1200’s and looks it. The stained
glass looks like it was done by a small child with a box of crayons. The major
business of the town is tourism and so there are many shops, restaurants, cafés
and hotels. Despite that, it is a remarkable sight, plunked down in the middle
of a great salt marsh. It’s
definitely worth a visit. 65 km today. High temp 25°C (77°F)
Sep.15 Our route today would take us across the Camargue wetlands, the great swamp of the Rhone delta. There’s not much to see here. Occasionally we would spot a few of the white horses or the black bulls for which the region is renowned. These are the type of bulls used in the bullrings. Not surprisingly, the major agricultural product of the region is rice. But as a cycling route it’s pretty dull – dead flat and only one town and that one 50 km from Aigue-Mortes. But our arrival in Arles provided us with more excitement than we ever wanted. When we came off our small country road I saw a sign that indicated “Arles Centre” and headed down a hill in that direction on to the A54 – the high speed, no bikes allowed autoroute!! Trapped! We had to hug the narrow shoulder of the road for a kilometre and a half as trucks zoomed by at 140 km/h, some honking their horns at the 2 idiots on bikes. What a relief it was to see that exit ramp! At the tourist office we got a city map and found our hotel (La Muette – charming). The sky had darkened significantly in our last hour of cycling and at the tourist office we were warned that the forecast for the next day was for thunderstorms so we decided to cancel our cycling plans (Uzès – 55 km away) and to stay another day in Arles. My view of cycling in pouring rain is: Been there, done that! (Check our 2005 trip through the Auvergne.) 58 km today. High temp 23°C (73°F)
Sep.16 As
predicted, it rained all night and was still sprinkling a little when we headed
out in the morning to check out the Wednesday market. Despite the rain, there
were lots of people buying fresh fruit & vegetables & fish & cheese,
etc. from vendors who must have been there at daybreak to get set up. We bought
a melon and then had a coffee before heading back to the hotel to add another
layer of clothing. It was cool. While we were there it began to rain in earnest
and continued until about 2 pm. It would have been just awful if we had decided
to cycle to Uzès that day. When it
finally stopped raining we went out to tour this ancient city.
We’ve been here several times before. I think of Arles as the most
Provençal city in France. Many of Van Gogh’s paintings were done in and around Arles
although his blue skies and bright sun were absent today.
We checked out the antique theatre and the arena, both built in Roman
times and both still in use today. They were sandblasting the arena and the part
that is done looks great. Carol has been haunting the shops, looking for a
particular picture in a particular size. It depicts the entrance to a B&B in
the hilltop village of Venasque, just across the valley from Mont Ventoux.
She had seen it in a post card but wanted a larger print. She loves having a
quest. I used the time to write this journal, to sip on a beer or a glass of wine
and to watch the activity around me. It was a relaxing day.
Sep.17 We set
out on a cool misty morning, heading north on a busy city street that morphed
into a route nationale as we passed the city limit. After 4 km we escaped
to a small rural road that paralleled the busy one all the way into Tarascon. We
crossed the Rhone there into the twin city of Beaucaire. Carol’s antenna had
picked up the signals – a market! So she parked me and the bikes at a café
and off she went. She bought a belt! We headed north again, following the west
bank of the Rhone closely. The ride was nearly flat and fast. We stopped at the
pretty village of Aramon, just off the main road, for a coffee at a nice little
tea room. It was a good stop: we called our grandson and the sun came out.
Carol wanted to stop in Avignon – she was still on her quest. I was
reluctant because it was past 2 pm and we still had 30 km to go (but mostly
because Avignon is my least favourite French city. Tourism is their industry and
they are always in your face about it.) However, it was September so perhaps
most of the skin-heads and fire-eaters and beggars and drunks and people handing
out handbills would be gone. And she is my best girl so into Avignon we
went. We found a bar on a little side street a couple of blocks away from the
busy, expensive main square so I settled down with a glass of wine and this
journal and she went off with her quest (and a time limit).
As I sat there a couple walked up this little cobbled street and the man
looked at our bikes and said to me “A cyclist from Ottawa.” I asked him how
he knew and he said “Eclipse bikes!” 'Eclipse' is the name chosen for the
bikes assembled by Pecco’s bike shop in Ottawa where we had bought these bikes.
The couple were also from Ottawa and here on a cycling trip so we compared notes on where
we’d been and where we were going. They had cycled to Sisteron and Sault and both had
climbed Ventoux! Pretty impressive. At some point in the conversation I
mentioned that this was our 18th cycling trip in France. He looked at
me and said “Are you Mike Bedard?” They were Chris and Ingrid Taylor who had
visited my website and had e-mailed me for some advice about their planned trip
to Provence. Small world!! I said
“Carol should be along shortly.” And he said “Here she comes. I recognize
her from her pictures.” Carol
had been successful in finding her print! We left Avignon for the final push to
Orange, stopping briefly in Roquemaure for a glass of wine, and arrived at our
hotel at about 5 pm. Carol set out, camera at the ready, to roam the narrow
streets of this ancient city. Although we had been here twice before we hadn’t
really had a chance to look around. Both times we had arrived late and departed
early. We had a nice dinner in a small restaurant near the 2000 year old Roman
theatre where we once saw a performance of an opera. 80 km of easy cycling today.
High temp 25°C (77°F)
Sep.18 I was
able to get back to sleep after the 4:30 am garbage truck – “c'est un parti de
la charme de France” as one hotelier told me years ago. We were up at 7
because Carol wanted an early start because of the predicted rain. We packed up
the panniers and put the rain covers on them. A little after 8 we headed to the
garage to load up the bikes just as the rain began.
By the time everything was loaded and we had donned our rain ponchos it
was pouring. More importantly, there was lightning! I can cycle in the rain but
I have too much respect for lightning to chance that. So we headed back to the
hotel, parked the bikes under their awning and sat in the foyer to wait out the
storm. Worst case we would cancel tonight’s reservation and stay another day
in Orange but we really didn’t want to lose another day of cycling. Finally,
about 9:30, it had been about 20 minutes since the last thunder and I saw a
pedestrian walk by, closing up her umbrella, so we grabbed the bikes and headed
out. The ponchos were removed after
5 km and the rain jackets by 8 km, We even saw some sunshine for about 15
minutes but the clouds never completely disappeared and the threat of rain
remained. We stopped in Vaison-la-Romaine for a pause café. Carol
wandered about for a half hour. I did my usual: watched the bikes and wrote
these notes. When we got to Nyons (pronounced “knee own ss”) we headed for
the olive cooperative. Nyons boasts of “the best olives in the world”. They
are certainly the best we’ve ever tried. We bought two half-kilogram vacuum
packed cartons to bring home. We returned to centre town and each did our thing.
The wind picked up and the temperature dropped and we could see the dark clouds
sweeping in over the Baronnies, the western-most mountains of the southern Alps
that rise up just east of Nyons. Soon the rain began, accompanied by thunder and
lightning. We waited for more than an hour until the rain had subsided to a
steady drizzle and the lightning had become infrequent and distant and then
started our gentle but steady 11 km climb to the B&B, “La Traversière”,
just above Condorcet. The rain stopped as we were pushing our bikes up the
impossible 2 switchbacks to the hilltop B&B. This was the 3rd time
we had stayed with Pam and David. Good hosts and she’s a good cook (despite
being English). Our room was festooned with wet clothing and wet pannier covers
in hopes of achieving dryness by morning. 63 wet km today. High temp reached 25°C
(77°F)
Sep.19 Sunlight,
almost dry clothes and a nice breakfast welcomed us when we woke up. We
descended into Nyons where they were having a medieval festival. One section of
the town had shops and stands with people in medieval costumes, musicians, even
a catapult that, after much preparation and excitement, launched a balloon
filled with water weakly over the railing out into the river below. Carol took
some photos and then we headed back to Vaison-la-Romaine and then climbed
steadily all the way to Malaucene, 10 km away. All along our route we could see
the huge massif of Mont Ventoux towering over all the other peaks in the area.
At Malaucene, the western staging area for cyclists wanting to make the 21 km
climb to the summit of this monster (as the cyclists in the Tour de France had
done a couple of months earlier), there were dozens of cyclists all decked out
in colourful spandex either prepping for the climb or celebrating their success.
As Chris Taylor had commented about Sault, the eastern starting point, "The air was charged with
testosterone!" There were
some fine looking bikes – a lot of carbon fibre lightweights. While these
Arabian steeds pawed the ground awaiting their riders, I mounted my heavily loaded
Clydesdale and plodded through the town, still climbing until we crested about 2 km
out. At last we were going to get some payback for the 12 km climb. We had a
fast 8 km descent – never turned a pedal – and then continued to descend
gently toward Carpentras. We could
see a large black cloud with a lot of rain heading across the plain straight at
us. We turned into a lane behind a row of tall cedars and frantically put the
rain covers on the panniers and the ponchos on ourselves. We finished just as
the rain hit. However, the wind was so strong that in the lee of these trees we
were protected from the nearly horizontal rain. The squall lasted about 15
minutes and then we resumed our ride into Carpentras. The cathedral there was
impressive: some fine murals; a number of large paintings, very good to my
untrained eye; a huge – I don’t know what – perhaps medallion best
describes it, but 7 m tall (20 ft), on the back wall of the apse behind
the ornate altar. A church worth experiencing. We picked up a baguette, some
Roquefort, some pâté, a couple of small tomatoes and a half bottle of white
wine and dined elegantly in our hotel room near Pernes-les-Fontaines.
77 km today. High temp 25°C (77°F)
Sep.20 It was
foggy and cool when we set out for l’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue just 8 km away. 
As
soon as we got into the town we saw the long line of parked cars. Sunday in this
town is very special. Not only is it the regular market day (fruits, vegetables,
etc.) but they also have France's largest antique/brocante market outside of Paris. (brocante
fits in somewhere between antiques and yard sale.) The market is unbelievable.
It fills over half of the streets of the downtown area. The vendors number in
the hundreds; the shoppers number in the thousands. It is difficult to make your
way through the crowds. The swift moving Sorgue river flow through the town and
there are several canals with large moss covered water wheels, relics of a time
past when they powered the silk and paper industries. It’s a very attractive
town but that’s hard to see on a crowded Sunday. After 4 hours Carol was
finally satisfied and we left the town a little past 2 pm. We had hoped to go by
way of Roussillon, a favourite of Carol’s but when we were passing through the
hamlet Les Imberts a sudden shower started and we found cover in a bus shelter.
There was some lightning with the rain so we waited until it was well past us
before continuing but the delay made the detour to Roussillon impractical so we
headed straight to St. Saturnin-les-Apt which involved a steep 2 km climb almost
to the hilltop village of Gordes. We turned east before reaching the village and
had a fast 3 km descent on smooth pavement. We would pay a price for that
because the last 7 km of our ride was uphill, mostly gently, sometimes steeply,
but made more difficult by uneven pavement and the fact that we ran out of water
about 3 km from our destination. We had the meal of our trip that evening in
this unlikeliest of places, the one-star Hotel St. Hubert, the only hotel in St.
Saturnin-les-Apt. Their dining room has a huge expanse of glass with a great
view out over the valley below to the Luberon massif 20 km away to the south.
And the meal was lovely. We had stayed there before and sought it out again. 47
tough km today. High temp 28°C (82°F)
Sep.21 We
started the day with a 7 km downhill ride into Apt, payback for yesterday’s
climb. Unlike the last time we were
in this town when there were bands and stilt walkers and parades, we found the
quiet of a Monday morning in France where no shops or businesses open save the cafés
and bakeries and grocery stores. We had our coffee and pastry and then set out
to climb over the Montagne du Luberon. I had planned to take the longer but less
steep route through Bonnieux but took the wrong exit from a round-about and we
ended up taking the shorter steeper route – a stiff 7 km climb to the Col de
Pointu. We donned our vests for the 10 km descent to Lourmarin, fast and chilly at first
with long straights, S-curves and switchbacks for 5 km and then gently all the
way into the village – un des plus beaux villages de France. It was
lunchtime and the cafés and restaurants were filled with diners. We joined
them: a grand crème for Carol and a glass of Leffe, a nice Belgian beer,
for me. Carol toured in case she had missed anything the last time we were here,
I watched the bikes, sipped my beer and wrote these notes. As we headed south
away from the village we came upon Chris and Ingrid Taylor heading toward Lourmarin.
We learned that they would be staying in the same hotel as we were in
Aix-en-Provence so we planned to get together there. Immediately after crossing the Durance river we began to
climb, stopping after 8 km in Rognes for a drink and to eat our yoghurt and
nectarine. We had two small mountains to go over on our way to Aix-en-Provence,
the Chaine de la Trévaresse and the Chaine d’Eguilles. Our climb to Rognes
had put us just 5 more km from the crest of the first from where we had a fast
descent on a bike lane. We had a 3 km climb to the second and then a speedy,
mostly downhill ride right into Aix, arriving at 5 pm in rush hour traffic. We
headed straight to the hotel, parked the bikes, cleaned up and went into the
city for a nice meal. Today’s 76 km was easier than yesterday’s 47 km. High temp
27°C (81°F)
Sunset over the rooftops of Aix-en-Provence
Sep.22 Cloudless
sky! It was market day in Aix and we were wondering if this Tuesday market would
be as large as the huge Saturday market that fills the city centre.
It was close. There’s a
disappointingly large number of smokers in France, a lot of them young women.
Don’t they know? Maybe they do but don’t care. We had our morning coffee and
pastry in the square by the Hôtel de Ville (city hall) where the fruit
and vegetable vendors had set up their stalls. The activity is entertaining.
Then we moved to the area where they were selling clothes and junk so I sat for
another coffee while Carol cruised the stalls. She bought a light jacket and
pants set and a couple of small gifts for folks at home. We unloaded this stuff
at the hotel and ate a melon that we had bought at the market and then walked
back into the city to buy a year’s supply of cassis. Cassis is a liqueur made
from black currants and we use it to make kir, our favourite aperitif,
which we drink almost every day during meal preparations. (One part cassis to 4
parts white wine makes kir.) We buy cassis when we’re in France because
it’s half the price that we have to pay at home. Unfortunately we can’t
bring it on the plane as carry-on like we used to – post 9/11 rules – so we
had to wrap the bottles in our clothes in the panniers to protect them from
those baggage handlers. It had been a very pleasant, relaxing day here in Aix,
our favourite French city (despite the fact that someone stole Carol’s bike there in 2004). Chris and Ingrid had arrived sometime during the day and left a note
for us to join them at 6 pm on the rooftop terrace of the hotel for a glass of
wine. This was the third time we had stayed at this hotel and we never knew
there was a rooftop terrace. Lots
of talk and lots of fun there and later at dinner in the city. No cycling today.
High temp 27°C (81°F)
Sep.23 After
hearing Chris and Ingrid’s plan to get to the airport, we decided to try their
solution and use the airport shuttle bus rather than cycle the unattractive 32
km to Aeroport Marseille-Provence. We would (carefully) shove our bikes and
cassis-filled panniers into the luggage bays of one of the every-30-minute buses
to the airport. The plan is always to spend the last night at or close to the
airport to facilitate the frantic hassle the next morning so we were
booked at the (expensive) Ibis hotel for our last night. To partially offset the
airport hotel cost we decided to pick up food for a last evening meal in our
hotel room. After all, we are "poor seniors on a fixed income" trying to eke out
an existence in an increasingly expensive world. Our Aix hotel agreed to allow
us to leave our bikes and panniers at the hotel until we were ready to go. That
allowed us to spend most of the day enjoying the pleasure of being in the sun in
the south of France with not a care in the world.
We have had many wonderful experiences in France over the years but
it’s hard to think of anything more enjoyable than sitting on a bench on the
beautiful Cours Mirabeau in Aix-en-Provence, watching the people pass by on a
warm sunny afternoon. At about 4:30
pm we put the bikes and bags on the shuttle (7 euros each) for the 30 minute
ride to the airport. Once there, I
took one of the vacuum packed plastic cartons of olives de Nyons into the
airport to see if we would be allowed to bring them on the plane as carry-on
because I knew that the flimsy cartons would be crushed in checked baggage. They
told me that since there was no liquid in the containers they would be allowed.
Too bad I didn’t think to ask about the 2 small tins of duck terrine that
Carol was bringing home as gifts for her sisters. They were confiscated the next
day when we went through security. At the hotel we dined in our room on
Roquefort cheese – the best cheese in the world – spread on French baguette
– the best baguette in the world –and melon de Cavaillon – the best melon in the world
–and Gaillac Perlé wine – nice, but, well, not everything could be best in
the world. A much more pleasant stay than our last time in this hotel when we
were frantically trying to get a replacement passport for Carol since hers was
on the bike that was stolen in Aix on our last day in France.
Sep.24 Uneventful, except for the duck terrine confiscation. It is so annoying that airline personnel insist that we deflate our tires for these flights. I know they’re just “going by the book” with this insistence but didn’t any of them pay attention in their high school physics classes? It’s unlikely that the tire would explode if my bike was tossed out of the space shuttle but in the slightly reduced pressure of an airplane cargo hold – never! When we brought our bikes to the oversized baggage area they were lashing down a cat cage for transport. I wondered if they also insisted that the air be taken out of the cat.