Côte d'Azur...

This past week I headed to the French Riviera to guide a walking holiday, one I've never guided before, through Peregrine Adventures. Based out of the quaint seaside town of Villefranche sur Mer, we first did a coastal walk around Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, on a path nestled between Mediterranean and illustrious villas:

The following day we climbed into the back country of Nice, where our walk stretched from the perched village of Sainte Agnès to that of Gorbio. The latter is shown in the photo below:

And then a day off to discover the old quarter of Nice, its Italian influenced architecture, its labyrinth of narrow streets, and of course the whole city from above:

Aix en Provence and the Sainte Victoire mountain were next. Here I am with the group, the imposing Sainte Victoire acting as a backdrop for the photo:

And last but not least the Alpilles. Here Suzy overlooks the perched village of les Baux from the ridge, far from the reinactment-of-storming-of-the-castle-complete-with-medieval-fair that had been crowding the village for three days, turning an already touristy village into a gaudily touristy village.

Oppède le Vieux

The village of Oppède le Vieux on Friday, Sept. 17th

It's one of those rare Provençal days when the clouds are low, where little droplets of rain give the countryside a feel as if in Britany. The old village is in ruins -- entirely -- but at its peak 900 inhabitants lived within the ramparts. There are no stores here, no tourist shops, just ancient cobbled steps leading through a labyrinth of stone buildings. I'm the only visitor here today, and with the low-lying clouds and rain the village has a beautifully haunted feel.

The ruins of the castle overhang a vertiginous drop, and I scramble up passageways to reach the top platform, looming above the rest of the village.

Cycling with the Swedes -- or rather Norwegians -- part 3

Another week of being that support-vehicle guy with 11 Norwegians and 2 Swedes...

A bunch of Canucks in Provence

It's Sunday afternoon in Avignon; knowing that I have 8 fellow Canadians in my group, I attempt the practical joke of I-don't-speak-English -- and with a very thick French accent -- something I promised myself to keep up all evening. It lasts about 5 minutes. I blow my cover, letting the group know they've crossed an ocean only to find one of their own to lead them through the hills of Provence.

Here we are, a Canadian invasion of Provence, ready to attack the toughest of trails:

But equally important is the food. Our first place of stay is hidden deep in the limestone mountains in the town of Gigondas, surrounded by a sea of reputed vines. Below is my dessert on the first evening, as much a work of art as a dish: a mango whatchamacallit-something-or-other (I wasn't listening to the waiter when served, my attention focused on the plate...)

Walking day 1: I suppose we have to walk off the great foods, and earn our evening's feast to come. And so we climb into the vineyards behind the hotel, admiring views of Mont Ventoux and the vines of Gigondas. Everyone in the group has quite a bit of hiking experience, and so I lead them on a lesser-known side trail, climbing high above the Rhône valley, with outstanding panoramas:

Our lunch:

...followed by a snooze: teach us Ronn, master of snoozes:

After our walk we return to the village of Gigondas for wine tasting in the main square:

And then dinner: a marriage of foie-gras and melon in various forms, a picture that doesn't really work out but a dish that's absolutely fabulous...

Walking day 2: actually, let's rewind a few hours, into the night, providing a never-ending grumbling of thunder and heavy rains. The first rains of the season: in some towns of the region over 30cm would flow through the streets during the day, causing some major flooding.

I have never missed a day of hiking in my 5 years of guiding, and today would be no exception, makeshift raingear and all:

The parched tracks, after 2 months of dryness, all of the sudden become muddy with the rains, and provide some slipping and sliding along the way:

But the sun returns quickly, highlighting the bunches of ripe grapes ready to be picked:

In the afternoon we are transferred to the town of Buoux (for pronunciation, remember the golden rule: "pukes" with a "B"). After visiting a truffle oak plantation we head down a centuries-old mule track towards the base of a canyon...

...to here: the Auberge des Seguins, a 17th century goat farm, restored with taste, modern yet faithful to its rustic beginnings. Though we're in the middle of nowhere, in the heart of the Luberon mountains, in a stone-built hamlet with a night full of stars and the sound of the waters, Ipads and Blackberries are removed from their holsters (I should think about confiscating all those toys...)

...except maybe dice. Yes, for all those in mergers and acquisitions, the plural of die is dice!!! (inside joke)

Here's the Auberge des Seguins in the morning, without a doubt my favourite place to stay in Provence. Thanks to Amélie and her great team for making us feel so welcome.

Walking day 3: after following the Aiguebrun gorge we climb to the lost hamlet of Sivergues. Population: 40.

And one dog named Chopin:

Our morning break is taken at the Castellas goat farm, where I fail in negotiating some goat cheese for the group for lunch, but succeed in getting us some coffee.

From the ridge of the Luberon moutains the view of Mont Ventoux is clear and inviting. How about next year? (was the pitch good on that one, Ronn?)

Descending back to the Auberge des Seguins we visit the Buoux Fort, 3000 years old, filled with protective walls, drawbridges, silos, vertiginous cliffs,

...and the secret steps as an escape route. Here John negotiates the steps with ease:

Walking day 4: we head back up the ridge of the Luberon, with outstanding views, including the Mediterranean to the south and the Alps to the east.

Snooze-master up to his old tricks after lunch...

...before a long descent on the south face of the Luberon, through the thyme-laden hills, and down to the village of Vaugines.

Café in Vaugines: closed. No beer. Fail

Walking day 5: in Saint Rémy de Provence, set among the landscapes immortalized by Van Gogh, we head into the Alpilles mountains for a morning walk...

Things get serious in the evening, when pastis is mixed with a game of pétanque:

The game is picked up quickly by the competitive Canucks, realizing the similarities in scoring and in strategy to their sacred game of curling:

Setting up the line, asking for an in-turn draw to the button. The line is good. HURRY!! HARD!!

The evening ended in a singalong at the hotel led by John, where food was eaten, where Canadiana was sung, where wine flowed, and where we were asked by the hotel management to keep it down.

Question: how do you get 9 Canadians to keep it down?

Answer: you say: "hey, Canadians, keep it down".

Works like a charm.

Walking day 6: back up to the ridge of the Alpilles mountains, under a canopy of pines, before an exquisite path along the top of the mountain, with 360° views...

On the ridge, at our lunch spot:

And in the evening, after 6 days of walking in our legs, a visit of the town of Arles, all dressed up for its bull fight:

Walk Inn's first guided tour!!

More often than not, when Mont Ventoux is as clear as you see it in the photo below -- taken from Avignon -- it means the Mistral winds are howling. And this time is no exception.

Cycling Day 1: Teresa from California and Nikki from Australia, two friends who booked their cycling trip together, made up the smallest group I've ever guided. Together we set out from Avignon by bike, battling a fierce headwind into the Provençal countryside.

By the time we hit Tavel -- a town famous for its rosé, the winds are hitting us from the side, providing the beautiful blue Provençal sky but less than stellar cycling conditions. To console ourselves we carry a bottle of prized-winning Tavel up to the picnic spot where we enjoy...

...way too much food. And after years of doing this I still never learn. Lunch for 3 resembles a feast for ten. But we take our time, listen to the rave music emanating from somewhere in the nearby hills, and somewhat synchronized with the chants of the remaining few cicadas singing their last hoorahs from the branches of pine trees.

The last few kilometers to Uzes along a plane-tree lined boulevard, ending a 50km day of pedaling...

The centre of Uzes, its narrow, cobbled streets lined with centuries-old, and noble grey stone homes. Though an extraordinary town, Uzès is cleaned and restored to a state of perfection that seems almost unnatural, as if each house had just been recently built, as if the town itself was a museum... but I suppose it's better to have THAT extreme than its opposite...

Our hotel: Le général d'Entraigues, a magnificent 17th century building in the heart of the old town, its swimming pool on a terrace overlooking the city, its breakfast feast the best I've ever had in Provence...

Cycling day 2: a loop from Uzès. I manage to veer from the planned itinerary from the start, and onto a mountain bike track in the forest. Beautiful but not necessarily appropriate for our hybrid bikes...

We pass several perched towns in the countryside, praying for the moment that our path returns eastward, so that the &#!!@ Mistral winds can be of help, pushing us towards St. Quentin (no Teresa, not the prison) for a well-deserved lunch.

Cycling day 3: leaving Uzès, Teresa is caught flagrant délit with her iPhone (should I mention here that Nikki is in the bike store doing some shopping?)

We reach the imposing Pont du Gard, a Roman bridge, the tallest ever built during the Empire. I take the girls away from the tourist masses and up a path leading above the bridge, enjoying the site/sight in all its splendour.

The Mistral is at its worst today, particularly angry, and we tuck in behind a cemetery wall, facing southeast, to enjoy a potato salad...

And dessert!

Luckily we're heading southeast, and with the Mistral behind us, the kilometers zip by, and we cross the Rhône River with ease...

Before reaching our destination, at the foot of the Alpilles mountains, we cross vast fields of fruit trees and alongside a picturesque canal outside the town of Tarascon.

The 60km are worth the effort: we reach the Mazets des Roches hotel, nestled at the foot of the Alpilles. Wow. The busy tourist season ends at the beginning of September, and we have the hotel practically to ourselves. The meals are as spectacular as the setting. Below is my interpretation of a starfish in the pool... (do I really get paid for this?! Yes, I do)

Our lunch plates at the hotel, prepared on slate boards, under the shade of mature trees...

Cycling day 4: NO MORE MISTRAL!!! A 650ft climb takes us to the perched village of Les Baux de Provence, where we dismount and walk through a labyrinth of medieval streets.

And enjoy a coffee:

Cycling away from the village, climbing even higher, the views open to unveil Les Baux at its most stunning:

Hiking day 1? Ok, it's really not a hiking tour, but being at the foot of the Alpilles mountains we couldn't miss out on some of its beautiful trails, could we? I take the girls on a short hike into the hills, among the fragrant plants and brush, and we enjoy the views of the plains below:

Cycling day 5: in the afternoon, after a beautiful lunch and swim at the Mazets des Roches, we head into the flatlands, cruising on seldom-used roads and among sunflower fields. The ride is short and quick, taking us to the Roman city of Arles.

Arles seen from the coliseum:

Cycling day 6: south of Arles, in the Camargue delta, the scenery changes abruptly. We exchange rolling hills and perched villages for flatlands as far as the eyes can see: vast empty spaces with few buildings, and a never-ending horizon of marches and salt-rich soils.

Below a few flamingoes search for food in the marsh:

The Vaccarès marsh, offering a cool breeze on a hot day...

Back in Arles, at the Coliseum, after the last day's ride:

The Saturday market in Arles, just before parting ways with Nikki and Teresa...

Having left Teresa and Nikki, and walking back to the train station, I run into a hoard of tourist groups arriving from river boats and into town. They are led by microphone-wielding guides whose monotone stories and factory-like-ushering-of-crowds-through-town comforted me in my tour this week: more intimate, a true exchange, friendship, and a more authentic glimpse at my beloved Provence.

Thanks for the great week Nikki and Teresa!

After more than 50km, Teresa is still more than able -- while cycling -- to share some thoughts about her holiday: