The following blog entry tells the tale of a weeklong hiking journey through Provence with the group seen below: John and Vicki from Canada, and Andrew, Caroline, Lynn, Phil, and Janet from the UK. We have all walked together before, and are reuniting for another adventure through the trails of Provence. I have organized this custom-built holiday as a self-employed guide, taking care of all the bookings and logisitcs as well. Many thanks to John, Vicki, and Lynn for having the idea, and for getting it all started!!
We meet in the town Avignon for an apéritif and for dinner on Sunday, to discuss our week's adventure. My idea for dinner at the Irish pub is greeted with laughter, and so we find an old French bistrot for a simple and tasty meal. Here we are the following morning at breakfast, getting ready for our first hike...
Monday: Walking to Vaison in summer-like heat
It's a scorcher: well over 30°C in the hot Mediterranean sun. We set off by taxi to the Col de la Chaine, a pass in the road in between the towns of Malaucène and Suzette. We are set to walk into the town of Vaison le Romaine where we are booked in for the next three nights.
The picture below is taken from the Col de la Chaine. Taken under the shade of a truffle oak, broom flowers in the foreground, while the jagged limestone teeth of the Dentelles de Montmirail are to the back center and left. Just in front of the mountains is the tiny town of Suzette, with its 99 inhabitants. We stop at length to admire the view before taking our first steps of the week...
Our walk continues along thyme-laden paths before we descend a northern slope and encounter a more forested terrain. Here are Phil and Janet overlooking the vines carved into the hillsides and the Rhône Valley in the far background.
We find the perfect stop to take out the Provençal tablecloth and have a picnic lunch. The shade is welcome on such a hot day.
spelt grain and vegetable salad, duck pâté, comté cheese...
After lunch John tries to find his "little man" on the GPS without much luck. Andrew then tells us, for the first of several times, that his digital camera has GPS. But probably the most handy is Lynn's simple pedometer, which in my experience obtains far more accurate walking-distance results than GPS...
Our walk continues to the tiny and lost medieval village of Le Crestet. Here Janet is admiring the stone architecture of the old village gates.
More importantly, the village café provides a welcome drink and ice-cream stop. Here Vicki is enjoying the cooling comforts of a glass of Orangina...
Our walk continues along a quaint track and soon enough, the castle of Vaison la Romaine comes into view: a welcoming sight for our tired and overheated bodies. We've made it!!
Our walk continues to the tiny and lost medieval village of Le Crestet. Here Janet is admiring the stone architecture of the old village gates.
More importantly, the village café provides a welcome drink and ice-cream stop. Here Vicki is enjoying the cooling comforts of a glass of Orangina...
Our walk continues along a quaint track and soon enough, the castle of Vaison la Romaine comes into view: a welcoming sight for our tired and overheated bodies. We've made it!!
In front of the castle ruins we take a hidden path down to the river and cross into the "new town" via a 2000 year-old Roman bridge. Vaison la Romaine holds the most extensive Roman archaeological site in all of France.
After settling into our hotel I take the group up to the medieval town, perched high above the Roman ruins (in medieval times towns were built high on perches, as safety was far more a concern than all that was practical). Here Vicki is overlooking her kingdom, showering her lowly subjects with the grace of her majesty...
Unlike most towns in the region, Vaison's medieval streets and homes remain completely intact, not having been subject to the ravages of the Wars of Religion. We walk along its cobbled streets and stand in awe of its centuries' old homes.
After settling into our hotel I take the group up to the medieval town, perched high above the Roman ruins (in medieval times towns were built high on perches, as safety was far more a concern than all that was practical). Here Vicki is overlooking her kingdom, showering her lowly subjects with the grace of her majesty...
Unlike most towns in the region, Vaison's medieval streets and homes remain completely intact, not having been subject to the ravages of the Wars of Religion. We walk along its cobbled streets and stand in awe of its centuries' old homes.
at the top of the medieval village, overlooking the "new town" below... By the 17th and 18th centuries, when life became relatively more stable, villagers began constructing their homes below, in the plains.
From the village we get our first look at Mont Ventoux, Provence's highest peak, which we are set to scale in two days...
Andrew skipping down the cobbled streets of medieval Vaison...
Here we are below the imposing medieval belfry, built in the 14th century.
Andrew skipping down the cobbled streets of medieval Vaison...
Here we are below the imposing medieval belfry, built in the 14th century.
Tuesday: market day and a walk through the vines...
Indeed, Tuesday is market day in Vaison la Romaine. I am kind enough a guide to allow my guests the morning off from hiking, to meander through the streets of Vaison, and admire the smells, colours, and sounds of the lively market. I spend quite some time tasting some of the region's best olive oils.
A steady climb leads us to the needle-sharp mountain range of the Dentelles de Montmirail, an imposing set of limestone teeth that sit just behind the town of Gigondas. Here Vicki is admiring the Spanish broom in flower.
Our breakfast at the Burrhus hotel is taken on the terrace, overlooking the market stalls of the main square. The hotel is modern, unassuming, and particularly welcoming to groups of walkers and cyclists...
But that's enough resting: after lunch we are transferred to the town of Gigondas and its renowned vineyards. Our walk begins alongside the old vines where we can see the bunches of grapes begin to form.
A steady climb leads us to the needle-sharp mountain range of the Dentelles de Montmirail, an imposing set of limestone teeth that sit just behind the town of Gigondas. Here Vicki is admiring the Spanish broom in flower.
A forestry track at the base of the range offers great views of the Rhône Valley. The clouds settle in and we even get a bit of light rain, a welcome change from yesterday's scalding heat.
We descend back to the medieval village of Gigondas. Below are the remains of the town's 14th century ramparts, most of which were destroyed during the Wars of Religion.
With a population of only 650 people, Gigondas revolves entirely around the wine industry. Over 70 estates make up the small appellation. In the photo below is the town's church and village homes.
And what better to do in Gigondas than drink its famed reds? We end our walk with a wine tasting in the main square of town.
During a pre-dinner apéritif from our hotel terrace, John serenades the group. Are you lonesome tonight? Click on the video to find out...
During a pre-dinner apéritif from our hotel terrace, John serenades the group. Are you lonesome tonight? Click on the video to find out...
We have dinner in my favourite Vaison restaurant: La Bartavelle. It offers gastronomic meals at a very reasonable price, while their desserts are always sumptuous works of art. Ask Vicki about her moëlleux au chocolat...
Here Andrew watches casually from above as Caroline and Lynn negotiate an uneven portion of the trail.
Wednesday: Mont Ventoux, the giant of Provence.
Today we are set to scale Provence's highest peak, and France's highest point outside the Alps and the Pyrenees, at 1912m. We aren't starting from the bottom: a road leading to the summit permits the casual hiker to start from closer to the top, as is the case for us today. We take a short taxi transfer to the "ski resort" of Mont Serein, at 1400m, leaving us the last 500m (or, one CN tower, for my Canadian friends) to climb.
At 1400m we can feel the clean and fresh air. We begin on a forestry track in the midst of fir and spruce, a whole new universe from the Mediterranean brush closer to sea level. Our path zigzags softly up the slope.
And soon the forest gives way to a mineral world of loose limestone and sparse trees, with views extending toward the entire chain of the Alps. Though Ventoux isn't as high as some of the peaks in the Alps, its isolated location offers some of the best views in France.
And soon the forest gives way to a mineral world of loose limestone and sparse trees, with views extending toward the entire chain of the Alps. Though Ventoux isn't as high as some of the peaks in the Alps, its isolated location offers some of the best views in France.
Here Andrew watches casually from above as Caroline and Lynn negotiate an uneven portion of the trail.
We encounter some larch trees, and their spring flowers, which will turn into cones. The larch is the only European conifer to lose its needles, an adaptation to help withstand a grueling winter and to better support the weight of snow.
Near the summit the trees have almost completely disappeared, and our surroundings become somewhat lunar. The slopes are steep and exposed but the path is safe and without technical difficulties.
We also cross a patch of snow, seemingly extra-terrestrial compared to the hot and sunny plains. A snowball throwing contest ensues. Boys will be boys.
speaking of which, we spend quite some time attempting to hit roadside poles... Andrew may be a pro at boules, but he needs to work on his snowball tossing...
And we've reached the summit, 1912m in altitude, the entire chain of the Alps sprawling out before our eyes...
We don't spend long at the summit as the Mistral winds are strong; we descend slightly to the chapel for lunch (a chapel which was once at the very summit, replaced by the radio/television tower seen in the background -- a replacement of one god for another).
Sheltered from the winds by the chapel wall, we earn a well-deserved sieste at arguably the most beautiful picnic spot on Earth. Here Andrew tells me: a bad day in the mountains is better than a good day in the office.
We also cross a patch of snow, seemingly extra-terrestrial compared to the hot and sunny plains. A snowball throwing contest ensues. Boys will be boys.
speaking of which, we spend quite some time attempting to hit roadside poles... Andrew may be a pro at boules, but he needs to work on his snowball tossing...
And we've reached the summit, 1912m in altitude, the entire chain of the Alps sprawling out before our eyes...
We don't spend long at the summit as the Mistral winds are strong; we descend slightly to the chapel for lunch (a chapel which was once at the very summit, replaced by the radio/television tower seen in the background -- a replacement of one god for another).
Sheltered from the winds by the chapel wall, we earn a well-deserved sieste at arguably the most beautiful picnic spot on Earth. Here Andrew tells me: a bad day in the mountains is better than a good day in the office.
And I remind myself that my office is the mountains.
Thank you Andrew.
But did you really invent that saying?
A descent through Alpine meadows, laden with wildflowers, leads us back to to Mont Serein. Due to risks of embarassing his two sons, I will not post the video of Andrew yodeling through the meadows. Please contact Andrew directly for the video...
In the evening, instead of going to a restaurant, we have a wine-and-cheese evening. 9 of the region's best wines and 11 specialty cheeses are on the menu, complemented by finger foods and breads and salads. Here we are tasting one of the finer Chateauneuf du Pape wines.
Well into the evening we are still tasting the cheeses. Apparently #8 was a bit too strong, evoking the smell and taste of "an actual cow in the meadow". I happened to really enjoy that cheese (Neuchatel), but I suppose there's no accounting for tastes...
In the evening, instead of going to a restaurant, we have a wine-and-cheese evening. 9 of the region's best wines and 11 specialty cheeses are on the menu, complemented by finger foods and breads and salads. Here we are tasting one of the finer Chateauneuf du Pape wines.
Well into the evening we are still tasting the cheeses. Apparently #8 was a bit too strong, evoking the smell and taste of "an actual cow in the meadow". I happened to really enjoy that cheese (Neuchatel), but I suppose there's no accounting for tastes...
The evening continues with some of John's finer guitar playing and singing, accompanied by a group of backup singers who, devoid of lyrics after several bottles of the region's best red wines, are happy just to hum along...
Thursday: Bad News Bonnieux.
Today we leave Vaison la Romaine for the Luberon mountains, where we are scheduled to stay for three nights. We are driven to the perched village of Bonnieux, start of the walk, immortalized by Peter Mayle's A Year in Provence. Below is John charging up one of the narrow village streets.
Today we leave Vaison la Romaine for the Luberon mountains, where we are scheduled to stay for three nights. We are driven to the perched village of Bonnieux, start of the walk, immortalized by Peter Mayle's A Year in Provence. Below is John charging up one of the narrow village streets.
Bad things happen in threes, as it does for me this morning. Most of you who know me might think of me as a rather passive and quiet guy, always remaining calm. I manage nevertheless to get into three altercations within the span of 15 minutes:
1) Disgruntled old man in village dislikes the way our taxi driver parks to let us out. I tell him off.
2) Shop lady doesn't want me to pay with a bank card for a 3€ piece of ham (understandable in most circumstances) despite the fact that I bring her seven other customers. I tell her off. An English customer, not part of my group, bears witness to the scene and upon leaving the store, turns to my group and refers to me as "grumpy".
3) Our luggage arrives by taxi to the Auberge des Seguins, our scheduled hotel for the next three nights. The hotel owner calls me and tells me that my group does not have a reservation. She had forgotten a reservation that I had confirmed twice. I soil my pants.
Bonnieux, seen from the upper church atop the village:
We leave the cursed village of Bonnieux as quickly as we can, while I contemplate ways to humour a group with no lodging for the next three nights. In the photo below Janet turns back to have one last look at the village...
By noon we're getting hungry and the sun is beating down on us. Through a field of poppies we spot a borie: a dry limestone hut built by farmers for shelter and to house tools.
I get a phone call from Amélie of the Auberge des Seguins: she can get us rooms tonight but doesn't have accommodation for the following two. After making several calls she has found us rooms at nearby hotels for Friday and Saturday night. Though we will have to move twice more than expected, I can breathe a little easier...
We approach the borie. Hundreds of huts like this one still remain in Provence. Construction is a delicate art, as absolutely no mortar is used. Limestone blocks are placed atop each other -- the perfect stone chosen for the perfect placement -- and superposed like an igloo. Bories stand the test of time, remaining intact for centuries.
Their thick limestone walls serve as the perfect shelter from the heat: Vicki is brave enough to enter first...
The sun is scalding outside but we remain cool. We take out our picnics and enjoy a restful stop in our intimate hut...
Our journey carries on after lunch. We walk along farming tracks and alongside truffle oak plantations.
After a short climb we reach the town of Buoux and its Romanesque chapel. Here we are taking a rest in the town's final resting spot...
Nearing the end of a long day's walk we find ourselves along a shelf path high above the Aiguebrun canyon. Looking over the edge we spot the Auberge des Seguins, a 17th century goat farm converted into a hotel, our place of stay... but only for one night.
Instead of rappelling down the cliff we find a centuries' old cobbled cart path that snakes its way down to the bottom of the canyon.
The Auberge des Seguins is my favourite Provençal hideaway, and it's a shame that we can only stay one night. Built at the bottom of an imposing cliff, and alongside the lush Aiguebrun river, the hotel provides as much peace as it does beauty. Here Vicki and John are admiring the stone architecture of the old buildings...
At dinner we enjoy some Provençal dishes, including daube (beef stewed in wine sauce) and lamb cooked with olives.
Phil, not too sure whose boule is closest -- even with his engineering eyes -- stoops to measure...
Friday: a day off ?
In our civilian clothes in front of the Auberge des Seguins, getting ready for a day of sight-seeing...
In our civilian clothes in front of the Auberge des Seguins, getting ready for a day of sight-seeing...
To rest our tired legs, we decide that a "traditional tourism" day is more than merited. We are escorted by taxi to the town of Roussillon for a little sight-seeing.
But first on the agenda: a ferociously competitive game of boules in the Roussillon car park. Andrew, in the photo below, awes us all with his superior touch and ball-stricking. Had he been secretly practicing since our last match? Taking no prisoners, Andrew and Janet win both their games and are crowned champions...
But first on the agenda: a ferociously competitive game of boules in the Roussillon car park. Andrew, in the photo below, awes us all with his superior touch and ball-stricking. Had he been secretly practicing since our last match? Taking no prisoners, Andrew and Janet win both their games and are crowned champions...
Phil, not too sure whose boule is closest -- even with his engineering eyes -- stoops to measure...
Once our playing done, we proceed to the old village of Roussillon, and admire its homes painted in all hues of red, orange, and yellow from the adjacent ochre quarry. Roussillon is listed as "one of the most beautiful villages in France".
Janet and Phil seem to be happy with their room too...
Once again Vicki finds a way to admire her kingdom from above, on the rooftop patio of the farm...
We stop for a civilized lunch at a quaint restaurant.
Below is a narrow, cobbled street in the heart of the old village, which we explore after lunch.
Here is a picture of the abandoned ochre quarry. The pigments obtained from the quarry are used as paints, both by artists and for the façades of village homes.
From Roussillon we are escorted by taxi to the village of Gordes, also classed as "one of the most beautiful villages in France". Gordes' homes, built in massive and majestic limestone, rise dramatically out of the Calavon valley in concentric circles, topped with its church and Renaissance castle. Below is the view of the village from where we are droppped off...
We walk along a narrow lane, far from the tourist crowds, approaching Gordes from a distance, seeing it in its authentic light. I prefer to give groups a chance to see all that is off the beaten-path. Many such villages, victims of their beauty, attract too many tourists, while the gift shops, stores, and restaurants inevitably follow.
We do however take advantage of the homemade ice cream shop, though apparently the chocolate mint is a little too minty for Vicki's taste...
We reach the Castelas farm, perched at 600m in altitude in the Luberon mountain. Our hosts are absent and we are surrounded by pigs, horses, donkeys, and goats, all roaming freely on the property. Having never stayed here, and never having talked with the proprietor, I begin to worry that we will end up sleeping on stacks of hay in the stable, and having to hunt down our own dinner.
Below is a narrow, cobbled street in the heart of the old village, which we explore after lunch.
Here is a picture of the abandoned ochre quarry. The pigments obtained from the quarry are used as paints, both by artists and for the façades of village homes.
From Roussillon we are escorted by taxi to the village of Gordes, also classed as "one of the most beautiful villages in France". Gordes' homes, built in massive and majestic limestone, rise dramatically out of the Calavon valley in concentric circles, topped with its church and Renaissance castle. Below is the view of the village from where we are droppped off...
We walk along a narrow lane, far from the tourist crowds, approaching Gordes from a distance, seeing it in its authentic light. I prefer to give groups a chance to see all that is off the beaten-path. Many such villages, victims of their beauty, attract too many tourists, while the gift shops, stores, and restaurants inevitably follow.
We do however take advantage of the homemade ice cream shop, though apparently the chocolate mint is a little too minty for Vicki's taste...
We reach the Castelas farm, perched at 600m in altitude in the Luberon mountain. Our hosts are absent and we are surrounded by pigs, horses, donkeys, and goats, all roaming freely on the property. Having never stayed here, and never having talked with the proprietor, I begin to worry that we will end up sleeping on stacks of hay in the stable, and having to hunt down our own dinner.
We are reassured a few minutes later when our host arrives, and shows us our rooms, which although not fancy, contain all the modern amenities, and are in perfect harmony with the rustic nature of our surroundings. I begin to think that our walking holiday isn't doomed after all...
Here is the view from my room, overlooking the Roman clay tiles and out into the open fields:
Janet and Phil seem to be happy with their room too...
Once again Vicki finds a way to admire her kingdom from above, on the rooftop patio of the farm...
After settling into our rooms we have our apéritif around a set of picnic tables, where we finish leftover Chateauneuf du Pape and enjoy the scenery. The friendly pig below seemed to be interested in the cherries I was eating...
While a second friendly pig was interested in my singing...at least someone was enjoying my music...
While these friendly pigs were friendly with each other ...
We sit down to a feast of foods made right on the farm.
Here is a before and after shot...
And the cheese too...
And the cheese too...
After a dining on most of the animals raised on the farm, we walk a few meters to the west to admire a gorgeous sunset from such a privileged location.
Saturday: summit of the Luberon
With much regret we leave the Castelas farm and its animals, journeying towards the heights of the Luberon mountains. The weather forecast for today is 35°C, but the breeze near the summit keeps us cool.
We climb steadily through an encased valley; near the top the views open of the Calavon plains, Mont Ventoux, and even the foothills of the Alps to the east.
The "summit" of the Luberon is softly rounded, blanketed by tufts of thyme and boxwood. We take its forestry track westward, enjoying far-reaching views in every direction. In this picture it seems as if the guide gets carried away with picture taking while his group marches ahead, fed-up with aforementioned guide's picture taking...
A final climb leads us to the highest point of the day -- 900m -- where we do not remain long due to the increasingly strong winds.
Halfway down the mountain we pull out the Provençal tablecloth for the last time, weighing it down with bread, cheese, wine, and all that makes France so French. Sheltered from the wind and the sun, we enjoy a short sieste before continuing to descend toward the Aiguebrun valley. In the picture below, notice John's attempt to reach for the wine unnoticed...
Halfway down the mountain we pull out the Provençal tablecloth for the last time, weighing it down with bread, cheese, wine, and all that makes France so French. Sheltered from the wind and the sun, we enjoy a short sieste before continuing to descend toward the Aiguebrun valley. In the picture below, notice John's attempt to reach for the wine unnoticed...
We stop for a detour at the Buoux Fort: a 3000 year-old stronghold perched vertiginously over the Aiguebrun Valley. The ruins of the fort bear witness to the passage of several populations over the millennia, including the medieval ramparts seen below. Without much of a problem, we breach the ramparts, ducking out of the way of arrows and burning oil...
The "hidden" gem of the fort is the secret staircase leading down to the valley, built 3000 years ago. The descent takes some concentration and sure footing. Andrew remarked afterward that "they don't build them like they used to"...
Epilogue: that evening we are driven to a nice hotel in Lourmarin, where we enjoy a good Provençal meal and reflect upon our adventure. My excessive picture taking is converted into a slide show that we enjoy from my laptop.
My heartfelt thanks to Vicki, John, Lynn, Janet, Phil, Caroline, and Andrew.
I've been guiding long enough to know that it's the group that makes the holiday. Whether it's in France, Canada, or the UK, or even elsewhere, I'd love to meet up with you again to continue our adventures together...
