A New Year's Eve hike in Mont Ventoux

A New Year's eve hike in Mont Ventoux, alone, needing to get up into the mountains...
I started the hike just outside the town of Bedoin (350m), at the southern foot of Ventoux. As you start to climb the views quickly become wide-sweeping. Below is a view from the south face, including the Luberon mountains in the background, taken from just above 1000m in altitude






The rocky limestone paths of Ventoux...

Not even 2012 and already the first flowers are blooming. Below is the "stinking hellebore" plant, highly toxic (also known as mother-in-law's plant).

At around 1000m in altitude on the south face you can visit many centuries-old shepherd's huts, calles "jas": used for shelter for both the shepherd and the flock in the mountains. 1000m marks about the snow-line in Ventoux, above which the snow will generally last for long periods in the winter.

ps: in n the photo I'm wearing a Christmas gift from one of my cycling guests this year: Berit sent me a wollen hat from Norway. Thanks, and see: it's already put to good use!!! It's the warmest hat I've ever worn, and I'm a Canadian!

A visit to Toronto...

The skyline seen from the High Park area...

Downtown Toronto at dusk, the emblematic streetcars at Spadina and College.



Niagara falls lit up at night, the waters cascading in milky neons down the Niagara River.



The falls seen from just 9m above the river, after descending a 38m elevator to a viewing platform. The falls are only 54m high but what makes them so imposing is the 675m they stretch around the horseshoe.



I suppose grape vines aren't much of a novelty for someone who lives in the south of France, but icewine is. It's December 2nd in Niagara on the Lake, and the bunches of Vidal grapes are bundled in their nets, waiting for the freezing temperatures of January for picking and pressing, the sweet golden nectar separating from the ice.

The Vidal grapes and their thick skins, able to withstand the harsh Canadian winters, perfect to use to make ice wine. These pictures were taken at the Joseph Estate, just outside Niagara on the Lake. I asked whether any varietal could be used to make icewine, and although there doesn't seem to be any rules about which grape can be used, only certain varietals are able to cope with winter conditions and remain on the vines until January.

Chico and the Gypsies...

You think you know everything about Provence until you feel dumb about something you really should have known but didn't.

Let me explain: The Gypsy Kings are originally from Arles, in the South of France. The founder of the group, Chico, parted with the Gypsy Kings early on (contract dispute) and formed his own group -- Chico and the Gypsies -- who we listened to on Thursday, in Arles. 15 years ago Chico built a restaurant/small concert hall complex on the banks of the Rhône River, in Arles, called Le Patio. Chico and the Gypsies perform concerts there, among more prestigious venues in the country.

Dinner was a paëlla cooked on a wood fire, best I've ever had:

the Cévennes...

After a long season of guiding I returned to the Cévennes mountains, about 150km north-west of Avignon. Below is the small village of Pont de Montvert under a gloriously sunny late October sky.

The plateaus above Pont de Montvert...

It hadn't rained here for months, and the parched broom-laden plateau seemed almost desert-like:

The chestnut and beech forests in the autumn, and though they don't rival with the fall colours of eastern Canada , the lanscapes in the Cévennes have a beauty of their own:

The hamlet of Le Merlet, set above the village of Pont de Montvert: a 16th century farm converted into a guest house and dormitory.

The hamlet of Felgerolles:

Walking from hamlet to hamlet along ancient paths lined with stone walls:

Up on the plateaus the walking is easy and spectacular, with sweeping views of the Cévennes foothills to the south and to the east

Along old tracks and through isolated farms...

The country counts about 100 geographical "départements", and here I'm in Lozère, the least populated in France: 75 000 total population and only 15 inhabitants per square kilometer.

The countryside is dotted with old houses and hamlets, all using majestic and massive granite stones for construction (they don't built them like they used to...).

The broom-laden hills atop the plateaus...

To the bottom left of the picture is the town of Génolhac, 900m below where I currently stand. A winding path on old cobbles zigzags leisurely down to the valley, and into the chestnut forests.

The old cobbled path:

Through the chestnut forest:

Just above the town of Génolhac, at the Mas Nouveau Guesthouse, with Camille in the kitchen:

The Mas nouveau from the entrance:

The last of the season: for Peregrine adventures

There are many paths to choose from in Provence; a spiderweb of trails criss-crossing the hillsides and mountain ranges. And after 6 years and perhaps 600 days out in the field either guiding or scouting, I'm still discovering new paths.

I took my last group of the season along a new trail -- at least new to me -- along the Aiguebrun River in the heart of the Luberon Mountains...

...crossing an old wooden footbridge,

...and taking a swim. The water was around 10°C, and Chelsea was able to brave the waters. (her facial expression lets us know just how cold it was). As any guide should I jumped in as well!

Via the Aiguebrun we reached our place of stay for the next three nights: the Auberge des Seguins. Here Frances is lugging her suitcase among the centuries-old buildings.

The following day we began our walk just outside the village of Gordes. The heart of the village is quite touristy, but the outskirts remain souvenir-shop free, a cluster of stone homes and cobbled paths leading down to the Calavon Valley, and here with an old 4L car.

Climbing up towards the heart of the village of Gordes:

Lunchtime in the countryside, and Chelsea having her dose of chocolate:

The autumn colours (the fustet or smoke tree) adorning a path above Sénanque Abbey and back towards Gordes.

On Wednesday, heading out of the Aiguebrun valley and up towards the village of...

...Sivergues, a small town with a permanent population of about 30.

Sivergues comes from six vierges in French, meaning "six virgins". Apparently, at least as the story is told, the village was first settled by six virgins and one monk. Lucky guy.

Above the village of Sivergues we reached the Castellas farm, where Chelsea did her best to communicate with one of the locals.

The end of the walk took us to the remains of the Fort de Buoux, some parts of which are 3000 years old.

On Thursday morning, after climbing out of the Aiguebrun Valley, and looking back towards the fort on the opposite slope:

A short transfer by car took us to the village of Lacoste, where we visited the ruins of the castle of the Marquis de Sade. Looking out of the old village gate in the picture below, you can contemplate the Roman-tiled roofs of the old homes and Mont Ventoux in the background.

In the village of Séguret at the outset of our last walk:

Walking above the vines on a farming track:

Mont Ventoux seen from our base in Vaison la Romaine. We climbed to the summit on Friday, theoretically a day off for the group, but most were keen on getting to the top. Unfortunately your truly forgot his memory card for the camera the day of the climb, and so no pictures to put on the blog... We saw a group of chamois near the summit; the camera was missed...

In Vaison la Romaine in the old town:

Beth getting to work as we prepare for the wine and cheese evening at the hotel.

A tiny square in the village of Séguret, and Chelsea blending into the background?

The cobbled streets in Séguret:

Our last walk through the vines:

Thanks to Sally, Mina, Chelsea, Frances, Beth, and Bob for a wonderful end to my hiking season.

And now it's back to the office...

Lenge Leve Norge

24 Norwegians bicycling through Provence, their Viking stature, presence and exuberant joy difficult to ignore, somewhat unsteadying at first, but quickly contagious, and a pleasure and honour to be part of.

I spent the past week cycling through the tiny villages of Provence with a group from central Norway, brought together by their local newspaper: Stjordalens Blad.



"Long Live Norway", written on a tiny road in the heart of the Provençal countryside -- and even chanted by Michel -- to the joy and surprise of the group.

Nearing the end of the first ride we arrived in the village of Fontaine de Vaucluse, the source of the Sorgue River. The waters exit the source at a constant 12°C all year. As a joke I offered a beer to the first person to jump into the waters, and they all started hopping in...

Along the quiet streets outside the village of Pernes les Fontaines:




Philippe worked the support vehicle all week long, taking care of the picnics and flat tires:




Terje outside our hotel in Isle sur la Sorgue, convinced he'll blend into French culture...




The Norwegians can't be slowed down. On their "day off" a group decided to climb to the summit of Mont Ventoux, arguably France's most difficult climb by bike:




A view of the hairpin turns leading to the summit:




But we enjoyed the plains as much as the mountains, cycling along orchards and vineyards and from village to village:

The group was accompanied by Svein Erik Vold, a professional cyclist from Norway, having finished his grueling season. He was kind and helpful all week, and we all hope to see him one day on the roads of the Tour de France.

Margit outside our winetasting cellar in St. Rémy, still managing to smile after a 2km climb up a rocky road. I had actually wanted to book a winetasting elsewhere, but I managed to mix up the estate names, and had to drag the group up a fairly arduous detour, unplanned. I was furious with myself, but the group accepted the mistake as more of a challenge, always keeping their good humour, and never once -- not any of the 24 of them -- making me feel bad about the error. It's a testament to the kindness and good nature of the group and of the Norwegian people in general.




Visiting the village of Les Baux de Provence:




Proudly displaying a Ventoux jersey after having been at the summit:




Ella enjoying the Provençal sun in a café in the town of Graveson, just south of Avignon.



And here she is again later that day with a helmetful of thyme and rosemary picked on the hills of the Montagnette.




Here's Sonja atop the montagnette and blasted by the Mistral winds.




Halvard and Anne-Brith atop the Montagnette. If you position yourself just right to take the picture, with the cathedral behind the subjects, you can get a devilish result:




After our ride around St. Rémy, and before reaching our hotel, half the group spontaneously stopped for a beer (well, you can't really qualify Norwegians stopping for a beer as "spontaneous", it's quite planned really...)



I'd like to thank each one of the group for such a wonderful time. It was an unforgettable experience for me. If only the Norwegians could export more of their joie de vivre...
Rendezvous next year in Norway for a reunion?