Up in the air

My vertical, as seen in the Alpilles mountains, through Gustav's lens...

Walking Peregrine's Provence Coastline...

Waiting for my train in Nice for Villefranche, along with two SNCF workers, the guide's bags stacked on the platform and ready for an action-packed walking adventure along the French Riviera.

Below three curious Kiwis in my group examine a kiwi on ice skates, on St. Jean Cap Ferrat, set just beside our base in Villefranche sur Mer.

Leaving our hotel in Villefranche sur Mer, along the ancient and cobbled streets. Despite being in the heart of the glitzy and overpopulated Riviera, Villefranche has seemed to escape the new era along the coastline, still clinging to its old-world charm of an authentic fishing port. During mornings or evenings, after the cruiseships have departed, the town feels almost like home.

The morning market in Menton on Tuesday, a glimpse of a buyer's basket of fresh fruit and vegetables...

As the crow flies, we are just 3km from the Sea, departing from the village of Sainte Agnès. But we are now at 600m in altitude, with fresh almost-mountain air, and the fast moving clouds providing intermittent cover. A totally different landscape and ambiance than along the coastline... We walk along ancient cobbled paths, through the Spanish broom and wildflowers, towards the village of...

...Gorbio

The village of Gorbio, itself just a stone's throw from the Riviera, sits perched on a rocky crag at 300m above sea level. Its timeless limestone houses are bunched together in various states of renovation and disrepair, but none of it tainted by the spoils of the Riviera below. The tiny streets pass under stone arches and curve around the central church, devoid of tourist shops and restaurants.

It is not planned for, but we spend two hours visiting the village, walking along every one of its streets, enjoying the contrast from the busy coastline.

In Gorbio:

More of Gorbio:

The second half of our journey centres around the town of Aix en Provence, where Cézanne tirelessly painted his Sainte Victoire mountain. Below the evening sun highlights the buildings surrounding a bistro-clad square in the centre of town:

The next day's picnic at the foot of the Sainte Victoire mountain is prepared by the group. Each picked a picnic item from the hat, collected at the market in Aix. What I imagined to be a fun way to assemble a picnic becomes a feast! Thanks for the great food guys!

Vivienne and her mother Berice, at the foot of the Sainte Victoire mountain. I have to say that Berice was an inspiration to all in the group, proving that even at 78 you can still be too young and adventurous for a bus tour or a cruise (this is a hint to you Mom and Dad!)

Our last walk set atop the Alpilles mountains, Judith and Trevor looking out towards a never-ending valley of olive groves and vines, and perhaps a glimpse of the Mediterranean Sea?

We are lucky enough to have two guides this day: below my colleague Gustav sets the course to storm the castle of Les Baux de Provence, set in the upper-left of the picture.

A group marvelling at the 14th century cathedral in Arles, our final stop of the tour:

Thanks to Vivienne, Maggie, Trevor, Judith, Berice, and Robyn for a fantastic week of walking and indulgence in Provence

The great spring floods

A week with Peregrine Adventures along the French Riviera: below on the peninsula of St. Jean Cap Ferrat, which would prove to be the only sunny day of the week. Upon careful observation you'll notice that not all my guests are Aussie this week...

Our second walk, Denis is perched above the village of Ste. Agnès, and at 750m it's "Europe's highest coastal village".

A bit of a misnomer, no?

Through the covered passageways of Ste. Agnès, as the crow flies only 3km from the sea, but an altogether different ambiance...

Leaving Ste. Agnès, the rocky path made somewhat slippery from the rains:

It's sunny by lunchtime and the umbrella doubles as a parasol, as seen in Frances' elegant display:

Pizza night!!!

A visit in Nice. Below is the Place Massena, recently renovated, and in stark contrast to the narrow streets of the old town.

At lunchtime in Nice, Ainslie the Kiwi displays a bit of affection for her "sister", an ornament on the table, and whose edible version would prove to be on the menu ...

On Thursday, I convince everybody, including the penguin below, to complete the planned walk at the foot of the Ste. Victoire mountain, dispite the weather, saying that it would probably clear. But is doesn't: it would rain on us for all three hours of the walk. Is this really Provence?

Under the Provençal rains. It has to be said though, that after the hot and sunny months of April and May, the rains were badly needed.

On Friday, more rain. We move to plan "B": a discovery tour of the town of St. Rémy de Provence. The rains continue, and throw a blurry veil over the lavender fields behind Van Gogh's hospital, almost as if he had painted them hismself.

On Saturday in Arles. More rain!! Aargh!

A heatwave in the spring...

I guided the following walking holiday for Peregrine Adventures: 3 days in the Luberon mountains and 3 days around Vaison la Romaine, just north of Mont Ventoux.

Our journey begins in the village of Bonnieux, nestled in the heart of the Luberon mountains. The spring has already been one of the hottest ever recorded and today is no exception: it's still the month of May but the temperatures are that of the middle of the summer, in the mid 30s.

We seek refuge in a "borie" for lunch: a centuries-old dry stone hut used to house tools and for shelter. The thick limestone walls keep the inside cool in the summer, and we stay at length to escape the midday heat.

After two years of walking through all kinds of terrain, and under 200 pounds of constant pressure, my sandals finally give way, ripping in three places at once. A good laugh is had at the expense of the guide (though laughing with, and not at me)...

I provide entertainment but also accept pity: Pierre takes out some electrical tape from his bag

and I wrap the sandal back together. It would hold about an hour, and I would spend the next two weeks walking in them...

The May poppies along an old stone wall, just outside the town of Buoux (pronounced "Pukes", but with a B -- that way you don't forget).

No sandals needed in here! At the end of the first day's walk we arrive at the Auberge des Seguins, hidden in the far depths of the Luberon, for a 3-night stay. The pool is only 18° or so, but after a hot day in the Provençal sun, the cold waters are more than soothing.

On Tuesday the temperature climbs again. We begin our walk in the town of Gordes, listed as one of the "most beautiful villages in France".

Though the village itself is busy with shops and tourists -- Gordes has become a victim of its beauty and popularity -- we approach it from afar, through its ancient, quiet, and timeless cobbled streets. And once we leave town by foot, along its stony paths and toward the famed 12th century Sénanque Abbey, we don't see a soul. A total absense of people. And this can be explained in two ways: 1) few travellers venture far from the heart of this village, or any other Provençal village for that matter, which is why it's so important to stray from the well-trodden tourist path. And 2) it's hot enough to stay inside, lay naked on a ceramic tiled floor, and with all the fans on full-blast, or air-conditioning if you're lucky to have it...

But my hearty group of Aussies (and Ainslie the Kiwi), used to the heat (except maybe for Ainslie the Kiwi), is ready to take on all challenges....

Bernie takin' it easy at the town square in Gordes:

And Wednesday is even hotter. We leave the auberge early, and climbing up the Luberon mountains we get a soothing breeze, the northeren Mistral winds that make an untolerably hot day somewhat tolerable.

Ainslie the Kiwi seeks midday shade after lunch:

Back at the auberge, lounging by the pool, and slipping in and out of a sieste, a butterfly lands on my shoulder. Then my knee, then on my head, then on my back. It flutters off to a nearby tree and promptly returns with a friend, and both dance circles around each other and around me, taking breaks to land on my body, and this for about 15 minutes (I'm easily amused on my long and lonely guiding expeditions...)

We begin Thursday with an unplanned visit to the village of Lacoste, perched in the Luberon. It must be said that my spontaneous decision to stop here was spurred by sadism. The Marquis de Sade, that is. Three days previous, driving to the start of our first walk, I had pointed out the town of Lacoste, mentioning the ruins of Sade's castle. Much interest ensued: talks of whips and beatings and of "40 days of Sodom", one of Sade's works I recommended -- in jest of course.

Sade's castle, overhanging a labyrinth of cobbled streets in the old village. I highly recommend visiting Lacoste: off the beaten tourist path, and a magical collection of village homes packed in a tight bundle, winding up to the castle.

In Lacoste:

We arrive in Vaison la Romaine after a short walk, and at dinner on a terrace we enjoy a spectacular sunset:

On Friday morning Pierre and Catherine prepare for their ascension of Mont Ventoux. It's not planned on the Peregrine itinerary: today is actually a day off to explore the town and take a break from walking. But why stay in town when you can climb Provence's highest mountain, and in the bad weather!?

Yes, bad weather: the accumulation of heat over the week is often a build-up for the rains, and today is no exception. The air is cool at our starting point, at the sort-of-ski-resort of Mont Serein. At 1400m the temperature is 11°C, a drop of more than 20 degrees from yesterday's walk.

Pierre looking down Ventoux's northern slope, as the clouds become more ominous:

The last 45 minutes of the climb are through the scree, under the rains and Ventoux's ever-present winds.

At the summit, now 8°C in the rains and in the strong winds, we seek refuge in the chapelle Sainte Croix for lunch. In the photo below, after an emotional climb, Janice is relieved to escape the harsh winds at the summit.

In the evening I organise a wine and cheese dinner, where we enjoy some of the region's best wines and stinkiest (and therefore best) cheeses. We are to have a reading this evening: unbeknownst to me, keen after a visit to Lacoste and after much discussion and laughter, Pierre found and downloaded --on his "Kindle" -- the aforementioned work of the Marquis de Sade. The actual title turned out to be 120 days of Sodom, not the "40 days" I had previously evoked. This made Pierre's search for the work more difficult, but he found it nonetheless. But what he found he deemed unsuitable for any audience, not one of the 120 days acceptable to share aloud, and so Pierre left it to our discretion, and in our own free time, to read the Marquis' work.

At breakfast, an Aussie is caught (not mentioning any names, Bernie) with a tube of Vegemite, which according to most Australians tastes good, and cures several ailments, including some forms of cancer.

Our last walk, on Saturday, begins in the town of Séguret, surprisingly quiet. We take advantage of this, exploring the town at length and at a slow pace.

Pierre and his almost-beret admiring the old clocktower:

And Catherine admiring a sea of vines: the Rhône Valley.

A group photo at the crest of the Luberon, on the rounded pastures parched by the sun, fresh even after a 500m climb. Thanks to Pierre, Catherine, Ainslie, Roz, Bernie, and Janice for a wonderful week...