But home here is Barthelasse island, opposite Avignon, a paradise of orchards and country roads caught between two branches of the Rhône River. And while there are no Tim Horton's to be found, the croissants and cafés au lait are more than adequate substitutes.
While I cycled with a "countryside" group -- about 40 to 50km per day -- Jason Ball, a triathlete and trainer from B.C. led the 80-100km group around the hills of Provence. Below Jason has his game-plan written on his bike, ready for the first day's action...
Meaghan leads the way as we pedal along country roads:
We reach Châteauneuf du Pape through a sea of old and gnarled vines, the remains of the castle towering above the village homes.
After some wine tasting and a gourmet lunch in the village we take a stroll through the cobbled streets and up to the castke ruins...
... from where the views extend far into the horizon, the Rhône River snaking its way towards the Mediterranean Sea:
In the village of Roquemaure the newlyweds (Josh and Charlene) take in the scene:
The next morning I return to Barthelasse island as the sun comes up over Mont Ventoux and the famed Pont d'Avignon:
We cycle into Avignon where we enjoy a café in my favourite square. Susie's fueling up for 100km of riding through the Alpilles mountains:
But while Susie's group braves the hills I leave Avignon and remain on the tiny country roads in the plains. The magic of cycling in France lies in these roads: endless choices of winding roads through the countryside, all lined by orchards and old stone farmhouses. And when you turn around the corner there's a 1000 year-old village perched up on a hill...
Lunch is eaten at a local farm, and Nancy lets her food settle before we continue our ride. She's also basking in her victory: she beat me in a push-up contest earlier that day...
In the evening we eat in one of my favourite restaurants in the region, where we enjoy our meal by the banks of the Sorgue River.
The next morning's ride is slightly confusing for George, who seems to have either jumped out of bed or is ready for the day's nudist ride:
The whole gang just outside Isle sur la Sorgue, in the apple and pear orchards:
Our day's goal is the stunning village of Gordes, its homes rising in concentric circles and up to the church and castle that crown the top. Evan seems very impressed, taking pictures of the town...
...and of me in the his bike mirror.
Our fourth day of riding, following the foothills of Mont Ventoux, we enjoy a picnic in the vines...
...followed by dancing in the streets of Villes-sur-Auzon, during their muscat grape festival.
Our last day of riding, based in the village of Bédoin, we tour around the nearby hilltop villages. Below Sandy admires the village of Crillon le Brave, where we would stop and enjoy wide-sweeping panoramic views:
Through the muscat grape vines of Beaumes de Venise:
We stop at a local farm where we inspect the greenhouses and fuel up on freshly picked fruit...
...all while the "sportif" group conquers the summit of Mont Ventoux, Provence's highest peak:
And while the others are still on the mountain, braving steep inclines and tortuous winds, I try out the hotel's hammock:
EPILOGUE:
Feeling brave the morning of the group's departure, I set off for the grueling 22km climb of Mont Ventoux from Bedoin.
Entering the 10% slopes towards Chalet Reynard, the skies begin to look unforgiving but offer welcome coolness.
Past Chalet Reynard the slopes become somewhat easier, but the elements add a degree of difficulty: the winds are howling today. Just after taking the picture below (while pedalling, n'est-ce pas...) the summit comes into view -- for a split second and between waves of cloud -- offering me just a glimpse of the prize ahead. At the last hairpin turn and after a short stretch at 11% grade I'm hit by a 150km gust of wind, and I'm forced to walk my bike for the final 30 seconds to the actual summit.
2 hours and 35 minutes is a far stretch from Iban Mayo's record 56 minutes, but I'm ecstatic about it anyway: the first time I've done it without dismounting once, pushed by stories I heard all week about perseverance despite obstacles, of hip replacements and arthritis and of participants who have blown out at least 30 more candles than I have but who continue to find ways to cross oceans and conquer mountains. If only my glasses hadn't blown off the mountain with the last gust of wind... a small sacrifice I suppose...
From the summit looking down at Bédoin, some 1 600m in altitude below, the equivalent of the Grand Canyon from rim to base...
...and a look back up to the summit after a 30-minute freewheel back to Bedoin
