Hiking in Provence

A Cold Winter's hike

2012-02-12T09:48:00.000-08:00

Day 9 of no running water at home and of freezing temperatures. Rather than stay at the apartment and stare at the faucets, praying for the thaw, I decided to go hiking near the village of Fontaine de Vaucluse. Even the day temperatures are below zero...

And even as low as 300m in altitude there's snow on the ground...

And what's supposed to be a spring in the mountains has frozen for the time being...

The rotting sqaush on the side of the hiking paths, placed by the hunters awaiting the wild boar (not really fair, is it?).

Once up on the plateaus you can see part of the 300 year-old plague wall (far background), built in 1720 when the plague last reached Provence, to keep the sickness out of the region.

COLD!!!

2012-02-08T10:21:00.000-08:00

A coldspell has taken over, and it's hardly justified to complain about sub-zero temperatures in Provence when other regions of Europe have been hit much harder. But I'll complain nonetheless. This sucks. We've been without water now for 5 days, Provençal plumbing insufficient for this type of cold. It's amazing how easy it is to take water for granted, and how stuck you are without it. Pipes in the region have frozen, others have burst. In 1956 and in 1986 the region suffered a similarly cold winter, so this happens every 30 years or so.

You may (if the you in question is Canadian) scoff at complaints of -5°C or -10°C. And so would I. But the Mistral! The northern Mistral winds have been howling at 100km/h, piercing any number of layers of clothing you may be wearing, sending the "feels like" temperature to levels that are keeping even a hardened and hearty Canadian such as myself indoors.

Below and above a waterwheel in the centre of Avignon, glazed with an icy coat.

In the centre of Avignon...

Cycling in the Alpilles

2012-01-26T02:02:00.001-08:00

Getting paid to cycle all day in the Provençal countryside isn't a bad deal really, and a welcome change from all the time I've been spending in the office lately.

Yesterday's reconnaissance took me some 80km through a countryside of olive groves windswept fields, while a moderate Mistral wind -- about 30km/h or so -- which was helpful at the start, but had me cycling directly into a headwind for the last two hours or so.

Below is the Oustau de Baumanière 5* hotel, nestled under the village of Les Baux de Provence. I was here to put together a new cycling itinerary staying in luxury accommodation: Cycling in Luxury

Below Les Baux to the south I cycled along tracks and back roads under a beautiful winter sky, in close to 15°C weather.

Someone should inform the Spanish broom that it isn't quite yet springtime:

But the mimosa is right on time:

At the end of my ride, climbing atop the pass and above the village of Les Baux de Provence, with the setting sun highlighting the 1000 year-old medieval buildings.

Vines in the winter

2012-01-17T02:01:00.000-08:00

Vines hidden in the countryside in between Gigondas and Sablet. I was here yesterday, rewriting a paragraph of the Roadbook of Walk Inn's holiday: Under the Silhouette of Mont Ventoux. You'll see in the photograph that the vines have been recently pruned, a very important step in the winter to limit the yield for the following September.

We have had more than stellar reviews of our Roadbook for this particular holiday but needed to tweak one small section, where some of our guests became confused in orienteering. We take every tweak seriously, and for me it's a wonderful excuse to get out of my winter-hibernation-phase-in-the-office and get out on the trails.

January in the Luberon

2012-01-12T02:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went into the Luberon mountains to scout a new hike between the villages of Bonnieux and Lourmarin, and this for a luxury walking tour that Walk Inn now proposes: Luberon in Luxury.

But first was a visit of Lourmarin, and the B&B we'll be using there: Côté Lourmarin.

The 18th century building in Lourmarin was entirely restored last year by Christine Delatour, and converted into into a more-than-charming-actually-downright-sumptuous B&B. There are only two room in this guest house, set above the cobbled streets of the centre of the tiny village, and overlooking the cafés.

Below is the "lavande" room. As a male who has no sense of style or detail, I made sure to take as may photos as possible to remember...

The bathroom, with a marble sink.

The bathroom of the suite, with a luxury bathtub set in the centre and a huge walk-in shower, with possibly the largest shower head I've ever seen...

These "linear" walks, from A to B, require yours truly to use a bicycle at either the beginning or at the end of the walk. It was at the beginning this time, after leaving the car in Lourmarin (end of walk) and cycling up the road to Bonnieux (beginning of the walk). That doesn't make sense, does it? In any case this was one of those unfortunate times where the beginning of the walk just happened to be 250m higher in altitude than the end, which makes for an easy walk, but a sweaty bike ride.

The walk starts from Bonnieux and quickly reaches the crest of the mountain, from where -- at least yesterday -- the snow-capped chain of the Alps was clearly visible. It reminds me just how close everything is in France. From Sea to Alps just a short drive away...

It was a beautifully sunny winter's walk, about 15°C, and even up on the crest I was in a T-shirt, overlooking the gentle forested slopes of the Luberon:

Mont Ventoux looking back towards the north:

Rosemary in bloom on the sun-parched hills:

From the crest now looking towards the south:

On the path above the southern slope, getting ready for my descent towards Lourmarin. It was a beautiful walk, nice paths, and I'm more than convinced that Walk Inn's guests will enjoy it as much as I did.

It's days like these when I'm reminded why I moved here to Provence, surrounded by magical countryside, caressed by the warm sun and by the concentrated scent of thyme and pine needles.

A New Year's Eve hike in Mont Ventoux

2011-12-31T08:14:00.000-08:00

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...

2011-12-03T05:55:00.000-08:00

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...

2011-11-04T02:51:00.000-07:00

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...

2011-10-31T11:24:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-16T10:18:00.000-07:00

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

2011-10-09T06:10:00.001-07:00

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?

Reconnaissance on the Aiguebrun river

2011-10-01T03:25:00.000-07:00

Here are a few photos from last Thursday's reconnaissance walk in the Luberon, as I was creating a new "Roadbook" for Walk Inn.

The regions' network of walking paths is so vast that even after years of experience in the same mountain, there are always new trails to be discovered, such as along the base of the Aiguebrun gorge, seen below:

This part of the path was magnificent, with lush vegetation and pools of water for swimming. But the path here isn't well trodden, overgrown in parts, and no waymarks to be found: I had to be extra careful in writing the written descriptions to guide our self-guided guests.

An old wooden footbridge over the Aiguebrun river:

The reconnaissance was to include a new hotel along the banks of the river: the stunning and elegant Auberge de l'Aiguebrun.

Part of the hotel: day beds along the river...

A short story:

During my day of reconnaissance I crossed paths with a group of 17 walkers from a major American adventure company. The major American adventure company in question, much like most other foreign (non-French) adventure companies, do not use certified and professional mountain guides to lead their groups: they use post undergrad students, who are "leaders" and not guides, happy to be paid to travel. The French guiding diploma isn't a breeze to obtain, needing two years of training and schooling, ensuring that there is a minimum standard in the guiding community, and a sort of protection for those who are certified; it is theoretically forbidden to guide without the diploma.

To try and shorten this story, let's say that on more than one occasion I've pointed out to these trip leaders that they really shouldn't be leading in France, and that they are essentially depriving professional guides -- people who do this for a living and know the region and its paths intimately -- of work. I've actually had to steer such leaders in the right direction at times, literally, as they were lost with their groups...

I met the very kind and outgoing leader of the American group in question, one of two leaders actually, and spoke to her without any of the agression I have reserved in the past for "tour leaders". Besides, I would have probably jumped on the opportunity to do what she's doing if I were in her shoes, and would never have guessed how taking the job would impact the situation of local guides. And so I was nice. Friendly. And upon return to my vehicle -- as I had left it to walk the river -- I found the following on my car, a snack that she had also reserved for her guests, and now also for me:

Good karma. It's a small token really, but a good lesson in restraint and in kindness.

All over Provence with Walk Inn

2011-09-25T23:27:00.000-07:00

For Walk Inn Provence, this is one of my favourite holidays to lead. Using three very different bases, we set off to explore (two days each): the Dentelles de Montmirail, then the Luberon, and finally the Alpilles mountains, giving my guests a great overview of some of the most majestic landscapes of Provence.

It had rained the day before the trip start, the only non-walking day I've had over the past two weeks, and the only rains as well. But as is customary in Provence after a rainy day, the chilly Mistral winds kick in, and our first day of walking was at 15°C, a veritable temperature nosedive after walking in 30° weather all last week. But the Mistral winds always bring clear views and make for beautiful photographs. Below, we are on the crest of one of the "Dentelles", a set of three limestone teeth hovering high above the Rhône Valley.

Sitting above the village of Gigondas, the foothills of the Dentelles chain are laden with famed vineyards, planted on terraces carved into the steep slopes. In the backdrop of the picture and in the clouds is Mont Ventoux, Provence's highest mountain.

But best of all in the Dentelles mountains is the Florets hotel, nestled in the vines, and in the heart of the appellation of Gigondas. We stayed there two nights. Their food is to die for, and one of the many perks of being a mountain guide...

And we can walk off those fabulous meals the following day! Leaving Gigondas after our second night at the hotel, we find tracks that wind through the vineyards and into the plains, where we enter the olive groves of Beaumes de Venise.

After our pushup contest (which I handily lost), Christina relishes in her victory...

Walking along the Carpentras canal on our way to the centre of Beaumes de Venise:

A bakery in the village of Lourmarin, on the southern slope of the Luberon:

And just before arriving in Lourmarin, Christina makes a friend:

Our base for the 2nd part of the trip: the Auberge des Seguins hotel deep in the Luberon:

Merope at the hotel, just before dinner:

Our picnic lunches prepared by the Auberge des Seguins. Yum!

Diane preparing herself for the secret staircase to leave the Fort de Buoux:

And here's Cindy making her way down the vertiginous limestone steps, carved into the rock 3000 years ago.

Neville displaying the finer points of the game of Pétanque while brother Darryl watches. Sorry boys, you were up 12-3 but we came back to win 13-12 (just though I'd remind you...)

The photo below isn't great but captures what I've never seen from the summit of the Luberon mountains (where the shot was taken): the Ecrins mountains -- the snowy peaks in the background -- about 200 kilometers away and culminating at over 4000m in altitude.

But Neville has better things to do on the ridge of the Luberon: a Provençal sieste!

After the Luberon we took a short transfer to Saint Rémy, at the foot of the Alpilles mountains.

My favourite place to eat in Saint Rémy: the Mirabeau restaurant with its XL salads, the one below complete with an entire camembert cheese. At the expense of having to leave some of the garnishes, the camembert was finished...

Darryl nearing a summit of the Alpilles mountains, above St. Rémy. The windswept crest offers fantastic views of the Rhône Valley below, flat as a pancake.

Mother and daughter both taking a picture from atop the Alpilles of the medieval village of Les Baux de Provence, the end point of our last walk.

A sign of the times.
In Les Baux de Provence, a riverboat tourist -- in her 70s --using her iPad to take pictures of the medieval buildings.

My group outside a café in Les Baux de Provence, a building held by the same family for 400 years:

A short taxi transfer took us to the Roman city of Arles, where we spent the last night of our holiday. Here we are exploring the labyrinth of streets in the centre of town.

The whole group outside the Auberge des Seguins: thank you to Merope, Neville, Donna, Darryl, Christine, Cindy, and Diane for a great week!!

Up towards the coliseum in Arles:

Hidden villages of Provence for Peregrine Adventures

2011-09-25T12:46:00.000-07:00

I didn't get to lead this holiday for Peregrine at all last year, which was quite disappointing; it's one of my favourites to guide: a good mix between the in-the-middle-of-nowhere Auberge des Seguins and active town of Vaison la Romaine, beautiful scenery, and lovely walks. And plus these trips always bring a group of Aussies and Kiwis, who are probably the best travellers on the planet.

We began outside the town of Bonnieux, on what would be a sizzling hot week. Below Lynne is approaching the village of Buoux, nearing the end of the first day's walk.

We spent the first three nights in the Auberge des Seguins, seen below, from the cliff that you can make out at the very bottom left of the photograph. I zoomed in to take the picture: the cliff is about 100m high here; I joked with the group that we were going to rappel down to the Auberge, but we found a hidden mule track -- hundreds of years old -- that descends gently to the base of the cliff.

I've probably mentioned it several times in this blog, but I'll repeat it once more: the Seguins is my favourite place to stay in the region. Cut off from the world (except from wifi reception, which is slowly filling in even the most remote locations), no roads, no television, at the intersection of the most beautiful paths in the Luberon mountains, total bliss.

Yours truly from my room in l'Auberge des Seguins (yes, despite the outward appearance, there's running water and even a private bathroom in each room!).

Our second walk brought us to the village of Gordes; it's a fairly touristy village, a victim of its beauty, and I like to start walking into the village from outside, up the cobbled streets where the tourists don't venture. It's much prettier without the façades of tourist shops:

Some goodies after our picnic break:

Above the Auberge des Seguins, at the Castellas goat farm, where I often encounter friendly pigs and goats:

On our "free day" I took the group to the summit of Mont Ventoux, probably my favourite hiking in the region. Below Julie is contemplating a 1000m deep rockslide:

Though Ventoux is more known for its cycling, its walking paths are stunning, first through forests of larch, beech, and pine, and then up through the scree towards the summit.

Though Tod had other ideas about how to climb to the summit...

Starting from the town of Bedoin, Tod climbed the mythical mountain and met us at the top for a well-deserved lunch.

Gotcha Chamois!!!

I took this shot at about 1700m along the north face of the mountain. Chamois spend most of their time around the steep slopes of scree, where their climbing skills are unmatched (they could beat any Tour de France cyclist to the summit from the base...).

On our last walk, starting in the village of Séguret:

The walk took us through reputed wine country, just in time for the harvest:

Here we are in front of the Auberge des Seguins. A big thanks to Pierre, Julie, Susan, Lynn, and Tod for a wonderful week in Provence.

A week with Pierre and Gina

2011-09-10T03:54:00.000-07:00

The 4 star Welcome hotel, set on the Villefranche bay, made for an elegant setting for a Walk Inn holiday last week. The building is centuries old and has "welcomed" illustrious guests, including Picasso.

Breakfast at the Welcome hotel as the morning bustle plays out on the bay, with local fisherman and café owners. I never miss a chance for bacon and eggs when I can get it (some North American traditions die hard...)

After a week with 18 guests, this week had only two: Pierre and Gina from New York.

Our first walk on the peninsula of Saint Jean Cap Ferrat included the purchase of a 3€ tomato at the small market stall below.

The 14th century Rue Obscure in the heart of Villefranche sur Mer

The sky the following morning as we left for the train station. The rain would hold off all day and the cloud cover would provide solace from the hot summer sun as we walked through the back country.

The church steeple as we look up to the village of Castellar, to the lower right of the photo. We had planned an easier walk from the village of Sainte Agnès to Gorbio, but decided upon another route leading all the way down -- save the 200m climb to Castellar -- to the Mediterranean Sea. On two more occasions we would stretch the "level 1" walking holiday into level 2, considering Pierre and Gina are still fit for even more challenging outings (do a level 3 next time!!).

Gina in the sleepy town of Castellar, after a long climb. Luckily Pierre was by my side to keep the pace reasonable, as Gina could have otherwise run circles around me.

In Castellar:

Arriving in the town of Menton after a long day's walk:

The following day, after a train ride to Cannes, we walked on the island of Sainte Marguerite. Set just 1km off the coast of Cannes, the unbuilt island, with its quiet coves and walking paths, offers a stark contrast to the Louis Vuittoned coastline in Cannes (yes, I just used Louis Vuitton as an adjective).

Gina admiring the views from the island.

We spent the night in Nice, and walked along the famed Promenade des Anglais. Hey Pierre, can you spot yourself in the picture?

Colourful statues sitting and kneeling in quiet contemplation, overlooking the Place Massena in Nice.

After a night in Nice we spent the day in Aix en Provence, not planned for in the itinerary but Pierre and Gina had never been there before, and it was on the way to the Luberon. We went to my favourite restaurant in town, Jacquou le Croquant. You will note that when using Google, or any other internet translator, the results can be interesting, such as on the menu below:

But who cares about the translation on the English menu when the Cassoulet is good:

From within the cloister of the Saint Sauveur Cathedral in Aix en Provence:

My Provençal parents joining us on our hike in the Luberon mountains, looking over a limestone wall...

Our hike in the Luberon took us up to the rounded summits, laden with thyme:

From with a "borie": a centuries-old dry stone hut where we had a break during our final walk to the village of Lacoste:

Nearing Lacoste:

We passed some ripe muscat grapes, and couldn't resist the temptation:

Under the village of Lacoste, crowned by the ruins of the castle of the Marquis de Sade:

Through the medieval streets of Lacoste, just under the castle:

Thanks to Pierre and Gina for a wonderful week of jokes and hiking through the countryside. Next time bring me some pickles.

The Swiss on the Golden Islands...

2011-09-09T02:57:00.000-07:00

Prosenectute: a group of retired Swiss walkers, French-speaking, spending the week with me walking the Iles d'Or: the "Golden Islands". We were based in the seaside town of Le Lavandou and every day we walked through the region, whether on the coastline or on the islands.

The group members were easily recognizable by their orange hats, which each of them sported when I met them at the Marseille train station:

Taking the train from Marseille to Toulon:

Our first walk began from the hotel in Le Lavandou, and up to the town of Bormes les Mimosas, famous for its flowered gardens and streets. Leading the group in the photo below is Candide, over 80 years old and still walking strong...

Our second walk was on the island of Porquerolles, a 45 minute ferry ride from Le Lavandou.

Being the end of August the island was packed with cyclists and beach-goers, but we still found some seldom-used paths to get away from the crowds. In the photo below, up at the fort, Rosemary overlooks the bay:

"Couscous de poisson" at a restaurant on the island. I was the only one who
managed to finish the plate (there were 19 of us...)

Alice, almost 80 years old, still climbing trees...

The island of Porquerolles harbours a botanical conservation zone, including an olive grove with dozens of varieties of olive trees. In the interior of Provence you won't find any olive trees this big, as almost all of them perished in the frost of 1956.

Back at the Petite Bohème hotel, a gecko on the wall while we were eating at the restaurant...

But the gecko was hungry too, and managed to swipe a cricket as we watched the scene. The ladies in my group let out some bursts of laughter, and the gecko, now frightened, dropped the cricket and hid behind the menu board (to the right of the photo). Displeased with the outcome, Alice (from the olive tree) got up from her seat, picked up the cricket, and standing up on a chair put it back on the wall...

Our third walk together was along the coastline of the mainland and probably, at least as far as my experience goes, the most spectacular walking in the region. From the Pellegrin beach to Cabasson beach the coast is unbuilt, with a path carved into the jagged rocks and along hidden beaches. In the photo below Marie-Claire is heading towards the Brégançon fort, seen to the very left of the photo. The fort is now used as the President's vacation residence (though Carla Bruni has better real estate 10km to the east)

Children playing on a kayak in the water:

My last evening at the Petite Bohème hotel/restaurant, complete with a jazz band in the magnificent courtyard.

Bruno, the hotel manager (formerly a chef), serving our table. You'll notice the headscarves on the ladies in my group: knowing that the band would play some gypsy-style music, my Swiss group decided to play the part...

Our last walk on the Island of Port Cros, the national park:

Leaving the port and heading towards the lush forests of cork oak and tree heather:

Candide sitting on a trunk of tree heather:

Hedwige looking over the sheer cliffs to the south of the island:

Along one of the many paths of the island. This is what a Mediterranean forest should look like if untouched and protected, not the brush vegetation so often associated with Provence:

On the ferry back to Le Lavandou after a week's walking vacation:

The whole group with the village of Bormes les Mimosas as a backdrop. Many thanks to a wonderful bunch of ladies (and Roger and Candide, the two men), showing that even in your 70s and 80s there's still lots of adventure left in your legs...

Behind the Riviera

2011-08-17T03:39:00.000-07:00

All of you have heard of the French Riviera -- la Côte d'Azur. But behind the coastline, in the hills that back right up to the water, lie dozens of seldom-visited villages, and linked by marvelous walking trails, often the ancien paths from one village to the next. Here you'll find authentic people and an authentic welcome, and just a fraction of the tourists who vie for space along the crowded beaches below.

My job here last week was to create a self-guided walking holiday, starting at the town of La Brigue and slowly making my way down to Menton, on the Mediterranean Sea. I stayed in a local gîte for two nights in La Brigue, run by farmer Jean-Louis Molinaro, seen in the picture below.

The cozy medieval village of La Brigue is set just below the Italian border, and in fact was Italian until 1947. The town is a fusion of Franco-Italian culture: the street names, the architecture, the foods, and the language: you'll hear as much French as Italian spoken on the streets, if not the local Brigasque dialect.

The gem of the town is set 2km away: the Notre Dame des Fontaines chapel, and its eerily intact 15th century Italian frescoes, depicting a 25-step version of the Passion of Christ.

The colourful façades in La Brigue.

The walking paths around town lead up in every direction: the villages are nestled at the base of the valley and the the slopes are green and steep. The Italian border is the natural ridgeline that can be seen in the background in the photo below, and is also the watershed that divides water that falls either into the Mediterranean or the Ardiatic Seas. Via these paths, and on a very pleasant and panoramic hike, I reached Tende, the last town before the Italian border.

Where Italy meets France on the railway line...

The last French towns before the Italian border are serviced solely by an Italian train, a remnant of the region's not-so-distant Italian past. In the town of Breil-sur-Roya passengers switch to the modern and comfortable French counterpart, always a pleasure to ride (when they're on time...)

Without a doubt the most spectacular village in the valley is Saorge, perched vertiginously above a gorge, its homes narrow and many stories high (many stories by medieval standards...), taking advantage of the small space available on its rocky crag, and all facing the southern sun like a cramped field of sunflowers.

In Saorge, a seemingly chaotic, gravity-defying and lego-like architecture of homes built atop one another and separated by narrow, cobbled streets.

In Saorge...

My next stop was Breil-sur-Roya, a town shaped like a crescent -- or should I say croissant -- along the Roya River. Here too you'll find a mix of all things Italian and French, with a great little off-the-beaten-path restaurant La Bonne Auberge.

From Breil sur Roya the real fun begins on the walking trails: the paths follow alongside centuries-old terrace walls and through the olive groves, halfway between valley and crest. On my last day of walking I would witness the crumbling of a section of a stone terrace wall just 50m ahead of me on the path -- a wall, several times older than myself, meeting its end before my eyes, giving me a sense of both eternal and finite at once...

In the middle of nowhere the tiny village of Piène Haute appears, just a stone's throw from the Italian border (not a figurative stone's throw but a literal one, and especially considering the village's perched position, the stone makes it to Italy without a problem).

Beyond Piène Haute, and via a path adorned with ancient specimens of olive trees, you make it to Italy, in the small village of Olivetta

In Italy the dress codes change and even the public bathroom signs are more elegant:

The menu in the village's sole restaurant could use some work, although the crazy water fish was tempting.

The walk led to the medieval town of Sospel, seen below:

Above the town of Sospel, a refreshingly shaded path through the ash forest, and in easy zigzags, leads to...

...the summit of Mont Ours. At over 1200m in altitude, I'm perched high above the Mediterranean, with an awe-inspiring panorama. In the very centre of the photo is the goal of the day's walk: the medieval village of Saint Agnès, itself perched at 800m above sea level. Only 3km from the coastline as the crow flies, Sainte Agnès is touted as the highest coastline village in Europe ("highest coastline" is a bit of an oxymoron but we'll overlook it) .

Entering Sainte Agnès' cobbled streets:

I'd been in the village at least ten times, but this would be the first time I'd spend the night. The hikers' hotel Saint Yves proved to be far more comfortable than I had imagined, its prices miraculously outdated for the Riviera, a wonderful ambiance, and two meals in their restaurant that even I couldn't finish (I'm never frightened by large portions)

A view from my room:

A stained glass maker in town:

The streets of Sainte Agnès at dusk...

From the village of Sainte Agnès, looking out towards the Bay of Menton, tomorrow's walking destination.

From Sainte Agnès most of the day is a descent save the 30 minute walk up to the perched village of Castellar. Castellar, with its quiet streets, sole bar and grocery store, is a last bastion of tranquility before reaching the Côte d'Azur.

The walk descends right atop the old part of Menton, probably the prettiest town on the Riviera:

Menton...

A week's vacation in the Cévennes Mountains

2011-07-17T10:44:00.000-07:00

Just a stone's throw from Provence, to the west of the Rhône river, the Cévennes mountains offer gentle rolling hills, beautifully green chestnut forests, and villages built of majestic granite blocks. Here you are a traveller and not a tourist, venturing to a place off the beaten tourist path, where authentic people live in authentic villages.

In July the walking is more tolerable here than in Provence. In the photo below I'm up on the plateaus laden with broom, at this time of year their pods snapping like popcorn and dispersing their seeds.

On the banks of the Luech River, studying my map

The hills are laced with trails and tracks under the thick canopy of beech and chestnut trees, while the previous year's vintage of leaves offer a padding underfoot, unlike the jagged limestone trails that cover most of Provence.

Our hotel in Génolhac: a 12th century farmhouse, completely renovated and modern yet letting the old shine through: massive granite blocks and wooden beams highlighted in the rooms, hand-carved marble sinks imported from India, all understated luxury.

Bathtubs cut into massive granite boulders:

A small peek inside the room:

While outside the lounge chairs bathe in the sun and worship the Cévennes mountains in the background:

The trails above Génolhac, with the famed red and white stripe of the GR walking path, making for easy orienteering (the markings and signs seem to be much better in the Cévennes than in Provence)

Following a track through the chestnut forest and down to the town of Villefort:

After a long walk we arrive in the medieval village of La Garde Guérin, timeless and empty, a few dozen centuries-old granite houses separated by cobbled streets. If this village were in Provence it would have at least five candy shops and ten gift shops, and a restaurant or make that five; but here the streets are open and devoid of tourist trinkets, with vegetable gardens behind the houses.

It stormed heavily all night and the menacing clouds remained in the skies all morning, though hovering on the opposite side of the gorge, with rays of sun shining only on our village. It's all that you need for great photos!!:

From La Garde Guérin I walked to the base of the Chassezac gorge, through the greenest of chestnut forests on paths lined with mossy boulders. This walk was definitely the highlight of Cévennes for me:

And above the Chassezac, later that evening:

Up on the plateaus the folloing day we passed pastures and walked through a veritable alpine setting, just below Mont Lozère. Here we passed the hamlet of Bellecoste, just a handful of old stone homes in various states of repair and disrepair:

The farm of Le Merlet, an organic farm/honey producer/B&B. This was our last stop in the Cévennes

Peregrine's coastal holiday in July

2011-07-09T06:57:00.000-07:00

This was the first time I've led a walking holiday along the coast in July, and probably the only time I've ever been to the Riviera during the summer holidays. The trains are packed and the beaches blanketed by a solid mass of tan-seekers. But up in the hills, just a stone's throw from the Mediterranean, the perched medieval village of Sainte Agnès remains timeless and quiet, here surrounded by a veil of thick morning cloud:

Up in the hills, we continued along an ancient cobbled path to the village of Gorbio, seen below:

In the village of Gorbio:

The morning market in Menton, including the irresistible pickled garlic :

Our morning walk in Nice was topped by a short climb to the former castle hill, from where all of Nice was layed out:

Aix en Provence on Wednesday. It's not that all of the sudden everybody is now drinking "Coca Light". More of a promotion: a dozen scantilly clad teenagers dressed in red and white and handing out free samples at a busy roundabout:

The main fountain in Aix en Provence, one of many majestic fountains in town:

On Thursday the summer heat put a halt to our walking plans. We decided to head to the Mediterranean to the tiny, modest and tourist-free fishing port of Niolon, just west of Marseille. We sat for a leisurely lunch at a wonderful café, and then tested the waters in the afternoon. It was exciting to break from plan, discover a place I had never been, and wield both camera and excitement as much as anyone else in my group:

But it is a walking holiday after all! And so on Friday we were transferred to the Alpilles mountains for a last walk, amongst the pines and aromatic herbs, with a beautiful breeze and clear views:

A view of the coliseum on our last night, in Arles.

A big thanks to Sean, Al-dog, Cynthia, Lynn, and Sharyn for your company this week.

A couple of days with my friends from Adelaide

2011-07-02T09:47:00.000-07:00

What you need most when walking through the trails of Provence is some energy. And what better than a bunch of cherries straight from the tree?

Daddy and his little girl heading towards Bonnieux...

The three girls at the café in Lacoste, smiling not for the camera but really about the Vanilla milkshakes they've just ordered...

Seen from within the confines of the château of the Marquis de Sade, Lacoste:

Walking through the narrow cobbled streets of Lacoste:

The whole family in front of a lavender field, just outside Bonnieux:

A refreshing walk through the Toulourenc river:

The girls near the summit of Mont Ventoux, crouching in the let's-spot-a-mountain-goat position:

Near the summit of Ventoux, with gusts of Mistral winds clearing the skies and unveiling the chain of the Alps in the far background:

Up in the air

2011-06-28T00:20:00.001-07:00

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

Walking Peregrine's Provence Coastline...

2011-06-26T13:47:00.000-07:00

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

2011-06-06T07:49:00.000-07:00

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...

2011-06-06T04:55:00.000-07:00

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...

A weekend in Cannes

2011-05-22T14:54:00.000-07:00

The red rocks of the Esterel mountains behind Cannes...

Great perches overlooking the sea:

In Cannes at night, the second last day of the festival, the Paparazzi ladders all bunched together and waiting for the next day's photo opportunities:

When the walkers are faster than their guide...

2011-05-15T09:46:00.000-07:00

It all started with a wait for one of my guests in the border town of Ventimilia, in Italy. Unlike the French towns set within a stone's throw along the coast -- such as Menton, Nice, and Monaco -- Ventimilia is unassuming, devoid of the glitz of the French Riviera.

I had always known Ventimilia through its tourist stores and restaurants close to the train station. This time however, with more time to spare, I strolled through the newly cobbled streets of the old centre, the delapidated façades of buildings exposing the uneven patchwork of bricks behind. A labyrinth of archways and narrow lanes, children playing, clothes drying on lines outside the modest homes, all seemingly timeless.

False advertising in Ventimilia:

Once back in France, settled into our hotel in the town of Villefranche sur Mer, we took the time to explore, here looking outwards from the "Rue Obscure". Villefranche is much more manageable in size than its neighbouring Nice, a population of 6000 huddled in the protected cove on the Mediterranean Sea. That same protected cove attracts cruiseships the size of the city itself, about one or two of them a day during the tourist season. But by nifghtfall the ships have left and the town remains quiet.

Our first walk took us around the ultra-chic peninsula of St. Jean Cap Ferrat. Here Judy watches as a cruiseship arrives in the bay. I knew things would be different than usual: my guests were walking faster than me, charging up and down the steps carved along the coastline. This all seemed too easy for them. And so we set off for a little "side-loop", adding a few kilometers, and from that day forward none of the walks would be as planned...

The following day I thought I'd challenge the group, and so I took them on a 400m ascent starting from sea to the perched village of Eze. But it was still too easy.

The ancient cobbled path zigzags up the slope, the same path up which Nietzsche walked during his many trips to the Riviera. For Nietzsche, the exercise helped him in his thinking. But for me, even with thousands of hours of guiding in my legs, I can't really say I'm all the smarter...

Arriving below the fortified village of Eze, perched like a nest high above the sea. On the climb up to the village we saw no one, before bracing ourselves for the busloads of tourists walking through the village itself.

In the village of Eze:

Sally's attempt to hide behind a bay tree:

Descending back towards the sea, among valerian and Spanish broom, we would see two young women dressed in flipflops and sundresses, making their way up the path. And so ensued the second of two misunderstandings between the Aussie guests and their Canadian guide: Aussie says: "Did you see the girls in their silver thongs?". Canadian guide, flustered and perplexed that he wasn't the first to observe this, had misunderstood "thongs" as something altogether different than footwear...

At our hotel in Villefranche, having a pizza night. Excellent pizza.

After two walking days we had a day to "stroll" through the streets of Nice, below at the famed market in the Cours Saleya. We ate salads overlooking the town on the perch that once held the castle, as I listened intently to a schoolteacher describe the panorama and history of Nice to his students (I did a simultaneous translation for my Aussies)...

After Nice I slept for most of the taxi transfer to Aix en Provence, before we settled into our hotel for the next two nights. Below is one of the many famed fountains in the town centre.

Aussies and Canadians share the same queen but manage to speak with different tongues. On the very first day I wondered why Sally was asking about the spice needed in our bags, when in actual fact she was referring to "space", only with her "accent". We had a good chuckle over this slight misunderstanding, and the joke remained over the course of the week.

Since the Aussies do indeed live upside-down, many of their behaviours are also backwards. Take Sally for example, wearing her "frontpack" along the trails. This behaviour enables the Aussie species to eat the contents of their packs without stopping, as seen in the photo below...

Ok, so the first two walks were too easy. The only thing left to do is to climb up to...

... the summit of the Sainte Victoire mountain, seen above right in the photo below. Ae we nuts?

As we climb the views get better, and the cool breeze soothes the efforts of a three-hour ascent:

Judy and Sally grew up on a sheep farm, but prove to be veritable mountain goats up the cragged path towards the summit. The cross, seen in the picture below, stands at 946m in altitude, offering the group a breathtaking panorama of Provence.

Walking along the crest of the Alpilles mountains the next day, our last walk of the holiday:

Sally's frontpack angled toward the medieval perched village of Les Baux de Provence, where we would finish the day's walk:

A group photo taken just below the village of Eze. A big thanks to Rosemary, Bill, Sally and Judy for a fantastic week in Provence.

Walk Inn's Mont Ventoux hike

2011-04-29T09:19:00.001-07:00

Walk Inn's inaugural Mont Ventoux walking trip begins in the village of Séguret, listed as one of the most beautiful villages in France. We stroll through the ancient cobbled streets before...

... following ancient tracks wedged between the vineyards and olive groves. The paths are green with spring growth and the temperatures are ideal for walking.

After a night in a hotel hidden in the vines, our second day's walk takes us high above the vineyards, through the Dentelles de Montmirail mountain range. The vine-clad terraces rise until the slopes are almost vertical, while the summit of Mont Ventoux looms in the distance.

The dark and rumbling skies above the village of Gigondas give us warning, but we continue onwards. Before we reach our hotel the skies open, and within moments we're soaked to the bone, experiencing a typically fierce but brief Mediterranean storm...

Roger, his first time in France, making up for lost time during a picnic break:

Our third walk proves to be te toughest, around the foothills of Mont Ventoux, but smiles still paint our faces:

For our fourth walk we change the itinerary: the group is keen to climb to the summit of Ventoux, atop the roof of Provence. Here the vegetation changes from Mediterranean to Alpine, the young cones of a larch tree below:

The impressive slopes of Ventoux along the bare rock... the haze prevents views extending to the Alps on this day, but the landscapes are breathtaking nonetheless:

Among the mountain pine, larch, spruce and fir, Barbara and Roger spot some birds above our path. Barbara is a keen birder, donating her time to a bird rescue centre in the U.S.

Near the summit we encounter a patch of snow, still fending off the rising temperatures of Spring. Ross and Sheena from Australia bask in the novelty, while the couple from Chicago remains unimpressed.

We stage a video here which I've kindly left out of the blog, for the sake of all families involved, but more or less goes as follows:
Man from Chicago gives Aussie a small pocketknife, and Aussie responds: "You call that a knife?"
Aussie then gives man from Chicago a snowball, and man from Chicago responds: "You call that snow?"

The final few paces to the summit of Ventoux, above the trees, finishing a spectacular zigzagging path leading to the top:

An afternoon initiation of the game of pétanque; note the concentration in Barbara's face as she strives mercilessly to destroy the competition (which she does).

With four days of walking in our legs, the last walk feels almost like a Sunday stroll, through the thyme-laden hills above the village of Suzette.

Our final destination is Vaison la Romaine, where we stay in the heart of the medieval village:

The five of us a day before, at the summit of Mont Ventoux, overlooking all of Provence and happy to enjoy a week of walking together...

A tailor-made guided tour...

2011-04-23T11:10:00.000-07:00

The long winter hibernation has come to an end, and this week I found myself guiding my first group of the year. Nora and Jeff from Michigan wanted something special --- both cycling and walking -- and only had a few days to play with.

On the first day we went to the town of Gigondas, where we walked among the reputed vineyards, the young vine leaves and spring vegetation making for beautiful scenery.

On a track high above the Dentelles de Montmirail range, after scaling the 735m peak of St. Amand: not planned but a great addition for a group of fit walkers...

On day 2 we went cycling through the foothills of the Luberon mountains, and in style with a Trek tandem bicycle... We climbed to the perched village of Roussillon before settling into a hotel in the town of Bonnieux.

A covered passageway in the town of Bonnieux...

From Bonnieux we walked in a steady rain to the crest of the Luberon, on a beautiful path without anyone in sight. We finished our walk in the town of Lacoste...

Here we are beneath the ruins of the castle of the Marquis de Sade, crowning the village of Lacoste. Was it "sadistic" of me to take my group walking through the rains? I think Jeff and Nora enjoyed their walk nonetheless, the haunting skies adding to the magic of the village and the countryside...

Cherry Blossoms

2011-04-04T11:58:00.000-07:00

Just outside the picturesque village of Vénasque, in the heart of Provence, the cherry orchards are in full blossom; and with the evening's last rays of sun we stop to bask in their sweet perfume...

spring bike ride

2011-03-25T06:36:00.000-07:00

The past week the glorious Provençal spring has begun, and I've taken advantage by going for long bike rides through the countryside, visiting forgotten hamlets like the one below: Le Beaucet, just a handful of homes sitting suggly below the ruins of its castle...

Everest...

2011-03-10T03:13:00.000-08:00

Hello from Nepal...

The only wisp of cloud in the horizon is behind Everest, at 8848m. The photo was taken at 3900m, above the village of Namche Bazaar, in the beautiful sunshine, after yesterday's snowfall...

Weekend snowshoe in Mont Ventoux

2011-02-21T00:42:00.001-08:00

It's cold enough to snow, but the clear skies often deprive Mont Ventoux of its wintry blanket. The so called "ski resorts" -- one on the north face, and the other on the south -- will often stay closed an entire season.

A late winter snowfall this year reopened the Mont Serein ski resort on the north face, and this past weekend I went snowshoeing on my favourite mountain, and with a great deal of excitement.

Snow covering the tops of the pines while in the background the chain of the Alps boast their snow-clad peaks:

While staring directly up the slope, the sun persists in finding a crack in the cloudy armour:

Shining through a stand of pines:

Walking up the road reserved for cars and cyclists in the summer: the plows don't remove the snow beyond the ski resort, to the delight of snowshoers and skiers. 6km separate the ski resort of Mont Serein from the summit, and 500m in altitude. Count 2 to 2.5 hours to reach the summit by snowshoe.

One lucky dawg:

Closing in on the summit, the Alps in the background become all the more clear:

A zoom from the summit of Mont Ventoux to show you France's most coveted peak:

Taken from the summit of Mont Ventoux:

The setting sun highlights the Alps as we begin our descent:

In the evening a little walk to help digest the chalet food, all snug in a down jacket :

Sunday morning we awake to fog and snow, and while the masses are buzzing up the ski lifts, we head back into the mountain for another walk:

Being Provençal makes snow a bit of a novelty, so why not take every opportunity to...

make a work of art?.....

Dog rose from Mont Serein, at 1400m in altitude.

And just 45 minutes later, having driven down the mountain, without a cloud in the sky, the almond flowers hint that spring is in the air.

February in Ventoux

2011-02-15T14:09:00.000-08:00

In the plains the temperature has been hovering close to 20°c for a week, the almond trees are in flower, an early spring has hit Provence. And so I decided to climb up to mont Ventoux to put the final touches on the self-guided walking holiday that Walk Inn now offers in Provence's highest mountain. What I didn't expect was about 30cm of snow, fallen just the day before...

Overlooking the Baronnies mountains to the north, on the freshly fallen snow:

A sprinkling of new snow on the mountain pines leading towards the summit:

Nesque Gorge

2011-02-08T14:41:00.000-08:00

The Nesque Gorge: probably my favourite cycling route in all of Provence, a winding and exhilirating 20km of narrow tarmac with sheer cliffs diving deep into the gorge . The climb is so discreet it is almost indiscernable at times, but with 20km in your legs, through a set of narrow rock tunnels, you've climbed 450m, with jaw-dropping views...

Almost there...

Haute Provence

2011-02-05T11:24:00.000-08:00

Today's traffic jam in Haute Provence:

A view of the snow-peaked Alps from Haute Provence:

Winter in Mont Ventoux

2011-01-27T06:18:00.001-08:00

A gorgeous winter's day brought me to Mont Ventoux on a reconnaissance walk, putting together a self-guided holiday on the roof of Provence. The photo below was taken from Mont Serein, at the end of the walk, with the last rays of sun highlighting the bare summit.

There hasn't been snow here for a while, and the last of it is quickly melting away...

From Mont Serein, at 1400m, on a clear winter's day such as this one, the entire chain of the Alps is visible.

I began my walk at 700m in altitude, on a logging road through the pine forest. The pines in the photo below are Austrian black pines, planted 150 years ago during reforestation.

The mornings are crisp up in altitude. Fearing a cold day I brought not only my gore-tex jacket but also a down jacket, stuffed into my backpack. I didn't wear either, sticking with a simple polar fleece all day...

Nearing the end of the walk, approaching the "ski resort" of Mont Serein, some patches of leftover snow still carpeting the slopes:

In the beech forest, one of the very few specimens that survived the intense deforestation of Ventoux over the centuries. Only a few dozen of these "relic" trees continue to grace the slopes:

Nearing Mont Serein, cutting it close with the setting sun:

Moi!

What a wonderful walk, on a beautiful winter's day: didn't cross a soul over 5 hours of walking, crisp mountain air, gorgeous views, and the ever-present Provençal sun. And they pay me for this?

from Malaucène to Vaison la Romaine

2011-01-14T01:35:00.001-08:00

It doesn't feel much like winter. With temperatures flirting with 20°C, a slight Mistral headwind, and a beautiful Provençal sun, I set out from the town of Malaucène for an 18km walk to Vaison la Romaine. This stage marks the final walk of Walk Inn's weeklong self-guided tour of Mont Ventoux and the Dentelles de Montmirail. Speaking of the latter, the tooth-like limestone chains of the Dentelles are clearly visible in the photo below, with the tiny village of Suzette (and its population of 99) also visible here:

From the highest point of the walk, at the Pas du Loup, in the heart of the wild garrigue (shrub land of aromatic herbs, boxwood, and sparse aleppo pines and evergreen oak). The limestone breach provided shelter from the Mistral wind as I faced south and bathed in the sun, and ate my not-so-Provençal peanut butter and jelly sandwich...

About two thirds of the way through the walk the hamlet of Le Crestet appears, a tiny cluster of limestone buildings and cobbled streets set on a high perch, overlooking the valley below. Normally the "Panoramic" bar here provides a wonderful ice cream and coffee break, complete with one of the best views in Provence, but hélas, it's winter, and the bar is closed...

Le Crestet, through the branches of a truffle oak:

Mont Ventoux looms in the distance, and only tiny dots of snow seem to grace the north face of the mountain today (the white at the top is bare limestone, not snow). Quel dommage for the ski resort up there...

Reaching Vaison from behind, the silhouette of its medieval castle protecting the town:

In the heart of Vaison, the cathedral and the setting sun:

Lourmarin

2011-01-10T14:57:00.000-08:00

Today's reconnaissance walk took me into the heart of the Luberon Mountains, starting from the Seguins hotel in Buoux. The clouds remained low, sweeping through the hills, a rarity here, giving these Mediterranean mountains more of an alpine feel.

And as usual, during my winter walks, I have the hills to myself. These past few days have been mild, temperatures in the high teens (celcius!), a real pleasure to walk.

The tracks crisscross along the crest, a mix of forestry roads and walking paths leading every which way through the Luberon. A truffle oak is in the foreground of the picture but I didn't check whether it was harbouring a winter truffle (no dog or pig at my disposal!).

The town of Lourmarin, and the fading sun above its church, weaving through the low-lying clouds...

Goult

2011-01-07T14:28:00.000-08:00

Today's hike took me from the very touristy village of Gordes to the unknown village of Goult, seen below. The village homes built atop the natural rock, in majestic grey stone, and if the cars weren't present you'd feel as if the clocked turned back a few centuries.

New Year's in the Alps

2011-01-07T10:49:00.001-08:00

Above the city of Grenoble for New Year's. In the town of Autrans, in the Vercors mountains, a veritable playground of cross country ski routes, crisscrossing through the plains and hillsides and leading from one village to the next.

Too bad I'm terrible at skiing. But I enjoyed the beautiful winter sun and landscapes nonetheless, and promise to snowshoe next time, and make less of a fool of myself...

At the foot of Ventoux...

2010-12-01T14:33:00.000-08:00

Today's walk took me from the tiny village of Le Barroux to Malaucène, through the foothills of Mont Ventoux. Walk Inn's roadbook got a bit of updating today, ensuring the paths and waymarks are a perfect match to the information provided in the written notes.

It had rained all morning, but by mid-afternoon the sun made a brief appearance. And at only 600m in altitude I was high above the clouds, which were clinging to the valley.

A view of the Dentelles range to the west, a set of cragged limestone teeth peAking and peEking above the cloud...

Nearing the end of the hike, the town of Malaucène comes into view, and about time: I was running out of daylight..

And the sun sets on the Rhône Valley, the cloud covering all but the 12th century castle atop the town of Le Barroux, where I began the day's hike...

Winter (not quite yet) in the Alpilles

2010-11-25T00:49:00.000-08:00

The winter blues are somewhat soothed by the reconnaissance walks I do in the hills. The cool and crisp weather brings great lighting for photos, better visibility than any other time of year... Below are the ruins of the castle of Les Baux, a photo taken from the hotel Mas d'Aigret, Walk Inn's base in the Alpilles.

Also taken from the hotel, perched above the famed olive groves, their silvery leaves shining in the winter sun (well, not quite winter yet, but it sure feels like it).

A shot taken from the Alpilles, looking toward the plains to the north, and towards the first snowfall on the summit of Mont Ventoux...

And now looking to the south, the vast plains of the Camargue park leading to the Mediterranean Sea...

The last tour of the season

2010-10-25T02:33:00.000-07:00

Bittersweet: the last walking tour of the season for me, before a long winter hibernation behind the desks of Walk Inn.

With the Mistral winds howling we set off from our hotel in Gigondas and into the Dentelles de Montmirail mountains, a landscape painted with terraced vineyards and jagged limestone cliffs. Renée, below, examines the scene with a "purposeful purse-full" of baguette...

On our first day of walking we stop at Château Redortier for a winetasting -- the harvest nearly complete, the last bins of grapes returning to the estate, and the air smelling of roasted pine needles and fermenting grapes:

One of the full-bodied reds we tried at the estate:

Back at our hotel les Florets, the late afternoon sun highlighting the terrace. We would stay here two nights, enjoying fabulous meals and a sumptuous setting:

http://www.hotel-lesflorets.com/gb.html

The rooftops of the village of Gigondas, its homes squeezed tightly together within broken ramparts, the Roman tiles glistening in the sun:

One of the many disadvantages of the Mistral winds is losing belongings in the gusts, like my walking map below, fallen into the Carpentras Canal during the second day of walking. Allen and I chase down the map...

And dry it in the sun. Thanks Allen!

The Romanesque tower of Notre Dame d'Aubune chapel, just outside the town of Beaumes de Venise. It's more Italian than French in style, complete with intricate carvings and decor.

strange clouds in the afteroon, dancing in the Mistral winds:

Near the end of the second walk, overlooking the Auberge des Seguins, our place of stay for the next two nights, lost in the heart of the Luberon mountains:

http://aubergedesseguins.com/

The Auberge is a 17th century goat farm, converted in the 1950s into a hotel. Here we admire Renée's little house, nestled among the other stone buildings:

Near the end of our first walk from the Auberge des Seguins, at the Fort de Buoux, negotiating 3000 year-old steps, vertiginous but exhilirating:

Caught mid-air: Danielle shows off her pétanque skills back at the Auberge, her boule heading towards the cochonet (the jack). One of the techniques of better pétanque play, as seen to the right of the picture, is to counterbalance the weight of the boule with a glass of wine in the opposite hand:

The Auberge at night, taken from outside by room. Otherwordly: a backdrop of steep cliffs and night stars...

The morning of our fourth walk, leaving the Auberge, and an unusually early frost covering the ground. The Mistral swept skies offer wonderful lighting for pictures, breathtaking views, but a definite chill!

Up to the high ridges of the Luberon, the thyme-laden hills soft and rounded, with views of the high Alps and the Mediterranean Sea... (well, we saw them, not you!)

Some action on the ridge: when we reach the top we see a hunter chase down the boar and fire two shots. The season started a month ago, and this is the 20th boar (about 60kg here) this particular hunting group has killed:

A sprig of thyme in the mounth replacing the traditional apple:

I would become vegetarian for the evening, eating only a salad for dinner, but I'd come back to my senses 24 hours later...

Allen overlooks the Durance valley and the southern slope of the Luberon. Here we enjoy warmth and sunlight, pausing at length to soak in the rays and the views:

The nine of us: 4 Aussies, 4 Yanks, and a Franco-Canuck. I've rarely seen a group gel as well as we would this week, sharing days and evenings of laughter and friendship. As a guide, these wonderful weeks offer just a touch of sadness, knowing that after a week's time it comes to an abrupt end... (how about walking next year guys?)

Roman monuments in Saint Rémy de Provence, after our two days in the Luberon mountains:

A walk in the Alpilles Mountains above Saint Rémy (why did I do this one in black and white?)

Danielle overlooks the plains from the ridge of the Alpilles Mountains, stretching toward the Mediterranean:

Our last night is spent in Arles, and fortunately this time there's no bullfight (the hotels weren't sold out!). Allen's photos and videos provide the pre-dinner entertainment before a last meal shared in town...

Epilogue

After being dropped off in Avignon I head to the foot of Mont Ventoux, Provence's highest mountain, for a date with my ascension by bike. I did it last for my 30th birthday, and this marks exactly 5 years later. I start this time from below the village of Sault, 700m in altitude, offering the easiest of the three climbs to the top.

The clouds are dark and the weather crisp, the streets lined with maples and other deciduous trees not found in the plains. The first section -- about 19 km -- rises relatively gradually to the ski "resort" of Chalet Reynard at 1400m in altitude. I would see no other cyclists on this section, nor on this same section on the way back down.

From Chalet Reynard the road steepens, some sections above 10%. This is part of the traditional climb to the summit used in the Tour de France. The rains pick up and the winds drive them sideways, and visibility is zero. By the time I hit the steepest slopes my legs rotate in slowmotion, at some sections almost at a standstill (it doesn't help that my granny-gear won't slip into place).

About 2 hrs and 30 mins from Sault I reach the summit, my hands so cold I'm barely able to take my camera out for this shot. It's freezing at the summit with incessant rains and heavy winds. On the way down, having forgotten my gloves, my hands freeze and I can't brake properly. They start to sting with the cold and I can sense frostbite setting in.

6km below the summit, I rush into the Chalet and get a pair of yellow, rubber kitchen gloves from the staff for the rest of the descent, with my body shaking in the cold and in the rain.

This guide was poorly equipped, and was given a well-deserved talking-to by the staff at the chalet.

On this day 5 years ago, it was sunny and warm at the summit, the entire chain of the Alps stretching out in the backdrop.

So we'll see what Ventoux has in store for my 40th birthday...

a week with Helen and Neil

2010-10-10T06:24:00.000-07:00

Helen and Neil from Australia: A guided walking tour of Provence, almost à la carte.

And both manage a smile below, despite finishing a 400m climb to the perched village of Eze, high above the Côte d'Azur. Based in the small riviera town of Villefranche sur Mer, we would spend half the week exploring the coastline villages and paths. We are on the Nietzsche path here, a path the philosopher used to take on his many trips to the riviera.

From the top of the village of Eze, in a cactus garden, overlooking the Riviera. And yes, we climbed starting at sea-level, all the way down there!!!

The peninsula in the background -- the one behind the leftmost flowering cactus -- is called St. Jean Cap Ferrat. It was our warm-up walk the day before: 11km around the peninsula on a coastal path surrounded by lavish homes.

Some of the hilltop homes of Eze, perched like an eagle's nest over the Mediterranean Sea:

Eze village, below which, hidden from the tourists that crowd the village (and there were many!!!), we find a secluded spot to eat our picnic lunch:

In the afternoon we hop on the coastal train and only 10 minutes later reach Monaco. Not planned in the itinerary, Helen and Neil wanted to visit this independent state, where escalators are as prevalent in the city streets as in shopping malls and casinos:

Only 2 square kilometers of land for only one country. And so what can't be built in sprawl needs to be built in piles: piles of appartment buildings as tightly packed as puzzle pieces, turning to seek the sea as a field of sunflowers seeks the sun.

The next day we head on the coastline train to the east. And which Riviera town is Helen closest to in the photo below? You'll never guess. It's a pristine island with hardly a building in sight, 8km of beautiful shores and walking paths where we cross few travellers.

Haven't guessed yet? It's Cannes. Just a kilometre off the shore, on the island of Sainte Marguerite. No Louis Vuitton here, no film festival, just a set of tracks lined with eucalyptus and pine, tiny idyllic coves offering hours of quiet contemplation...

Speaking of tiny idyllic coves offering hours of quiet contemplation:

In the afternoon we reach Nice: its shops, markets, streets bustling with people, its cafés filled with blondes holding dogs and listening to honky-tonk bands...

Enough of Nice. We needed some countryside in the heart of Provence, far from the crowds. And no better place than based in the Auberge des Seguins, lost in the Luberon mountains, a centuries-old goat farm restored magnificently into a hotel. As a base for two nights, we would explore the forgotten hamlets and paths, passing beside truffle-oak plantations and cherry orchards...

Helen and Neil inside their bedroom, once a shelter for the flocks...

The auberge in the evening (how's my tripod shot?), my room the closest in the picture, and in the background a cliff that attracts amateur rock climbers from all over the world.

Speaking of amateur rock climbers:

Though we're by no means rock climbers, we still manage to attack a set of vertiginous limestone steps, 3000 years old, in the Buoux fort (steep drops to the left of the picture). And a round of applause for Helen, not a fan of heights, who manages to surpass herself, leaving her comfort zone without shouting explitives at the guide or at her husband.

After two days we leave the auberge behind and cross into the Petit Luberon, with southern winds hinting at the possibility of rain (which hold off all week!!!)

The town of Bonnieux, set above the Calavon plains, one of the towns in Peter Mayle's A Year in Provence.

The tightly packed homes of Bonnieux, and Mont Ventoux in the far background, above the church spire.

In Bonnieux, after finishing the last walk. Usually it's a bad sign to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but in this case it leads Neil into the cobbled streets of town, alive and well, extatic after a wonderful week along the trails of Provence.

Thanks for a great week Neil and Helen!!!

Côte d'Azur...

2010-09-25T02:18:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-18T00:36:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-17T09:44:00.000-07:00

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

A bunch of Canucks in Provence

2010-09-12T11:24:00.001-07:00

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!!

2010-09-04T05:31:00.000-07:00

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:

Hiking Madeira, part 2

2010-08-14T15:44:00.000-07:00

It's not what it looks like: this isn't the sun setting on my latest hiking season in Madeira. It's only mid-afternoon, Friday August 13th, and what you're looking at is a cloud of smoke and ash eminating from a forest fire halfway across the island, casting an apocalyptic glow above Funchal, Madeira's capital, as it rained an ash of eucalyptus leaves all evening and through the night. Strange and haunting.

Thanks to Amélie? for the great photo.

Above the clouds but not as high as you may think: in the photo below I'm contemplating the view from only 1600m, a plateau near the summit of the island. The Madeiran clouds form between 800 and 1200m in the laurel forests, while the high plateaus and summits, often above the clouds, are laden with low-lying brush and heather, rarely seeing the rain.

The jagged hills are sculpted with terraces, work that began in the early 15th century when the Portuguese first arrived, setting fire to the dense forests and carving the lands for their crops.

My house for a night during week one: the hotel was fully booked, and so this guide was given a house to himself on the volcanic sands, complete with a garden, terrace, and even a dog. I held a digestif here for the group,where we sampled the rum made by the nearby distillery under a canopy of vines.

Speaking of volcanic sands...
The island boasts few beaches, being only 8 million years old. Below are the volcanic sands of Porto da Cruz, where we enjoyed (for those on the découverte de Madère tour) a short swim after the first day's walk.

Week 1: Mimi, amateur photographer, contemplates the same sands.

Laden with ferns, and set in a forest of eucalyptus and mimosa, below is a shot of the northern slope of Penha d'Aguia, or "Eagle's point", set 590m above the village of Porto da Cruz, an arduous 2-hour climb out of the starting blocks of the village.

It's the toughest day of hiking of the weeklong découverte de Madère tour: a day culminating with a 704-step staircase leading to the charming village of Sao Roque. But that wasn't enough to tire my third group, who insisted, after dinner, to descend the steps by headlamp and down to the river for a night swim...

Speaking of which...

My first group during the descent of "Eagle's Point", with a view of the town of Faial in the background. My t-shirt had been completely saturated during the climb, enough to be wrung out; and so my descent was shirtless, the day finishing with a massive sunburn...

Zucchini flower. With a temperate climate, ample water, and rich soils, everything grows big in Madeira, including the 3-foot-long zucchinis we'd see along the paths.

Passion flower above a levada (irrigation canal). They grow wild all over the island. Why is it named as such? For a much less romantic reason than you may guess. Take a careful look at the reproductive parts of the plant: hammers and nails, the instruments of the Passion of Christ.

Below, The sun penetrates through the island's primitive laurel forests, once covering the island as a whole, and today only covering about 15%. Primitive because the same forests covered all of Europe 65 million years ago. But Madeira, temperate in climate, and resistant to change, has kept these magnificent laurel trees up until today.

No sandwiches for my groups for lunch!! The preparation of salads becomes a convivial lunchtime effort, where everyone chips in. I'm no expert of Madeira, and after 3 more weeks spent on the island I still can't speak Portuguese, but my lunches are damn good!

My mango chicken salad...

Near the Pico Ruivo, the island's 1861m summit:

There are 1500km of levadas (irrigation canals) on an island only 58km long by 23km wide. And where the natural contours of the mountains didn't allow for the continuation of a gentle slope for a canal, tunnels were built through the mountains. Get out your headlamps, and watch your heads: the low ceilings have walloped more than one of my hikers...

On the gentler tour I lead in the south, following the Levada Nova for about 8km:

Gentle except for this day of hiking: a 500m climb climb before a descent seen in the photo below, on a magnificent cobbled path zigzagging its way down to Paul do Mar among a chaos of volcanic cliffs.

On the ruins of a house in Jardim do Mar.

Most of the buildings and homes are new and well-kept on the island, the fruits of the post-1986 boom when Portugal joined the European Union. Roads and tunnels were built, jobs created, and many Madeirans from the diaspora returned. In the 40s and 50s there was still no electricity on the island, many of the families moving to Venezuela, Brazil, and South Africa for work.
The jump from subsistance farming to a modern, internet generation was shockingly quick. Just steps away from an internet café you can follow a levada through a field, where a couple uses a sickle to cut their crops and tend to their fields...

The town of Jardim do Mar at the outset of a 2-hour climb...

Sunset on Paul do Mar, from the hotel where we stay all week:

Ah, Brisa Maracuja! God's gift to soft drinks, made in Madeira, from actual passion fruit (9%!), refreshing after sweating up and down the island's steep paths. I should look into exporting this stuff!

Climbing up to the town of Santana, on an old cobbled path, with a ginger lily in the foreground.

My group's home in Sao Roque, after walk 2, as our usual hotel was full. It's an old family house in Sao Roque, draped in a rainbow of Bougainvillea. The old woman who owns the home was present, a former schoolteacher from Funchal. She did my laundry and hung my clothes to dry as I left with half of the group to bathe in the river at night...

A small shack near Sao Jorge:

My third and last group of the season, at the outset of our walk, above the clouds, before our climb of Pico Ruivo. Something just clicked this week, and right from the start: a strong bond within the group, full of laughter and friendship. Always bittersweet: the joy of sharing and of heartwarming encounters mixed with fleeting relationships, intense for a week and then vanishing with the arrival of the next group. It's something I'll probably never get used to. But hey: in my job I have little to complain about...

Friday, August 13th. The fire seen from Pico Arieiro, at the end of the day's walk.

Within 15 minutes of arriving at the end of the walk we were engulfed by the far-reaching smoke, carried by the strong winds. Luckily our taxis arrived quickly, taking us down to Funchal.

Tour de France

2010-07-15T13:10:00.001-07:00

Could I convince you to drive 4 hours in the sweltering heat to watch 200 grown men ride bicycles for 30 seconds? Could anyone be convinced? Well I convinced myself: on a day where temperatures rose close to 40 degrees, where my sandal-kept toes fried in the sun, waiting anxiously at the side of the unshaded road for a group of three cyclists who managed to escape from the peloton, who when approached didn't seem to care much about conserving their 3-minute lead.

And then the 3-minute wait for the peloton to sweep by, who did so rather anticlimatically, and I waited for the very last cyclists to pass to get a glimpse of the back of jersey #21, worn by Lance Armstrong, chatting with another cyclist at the back of the pack.

And then that was it.

My whole day and 30€ of gas for this?

Yes sir, I'll be back next year!

Cycling with the Swedes, Part 2

2010-07-03T04:21:00.001-07:00

Another week of being that guy who drives the support vehicle...

One tiny blue van, 21 bikes: 4 on the roof, 1o on the trailer, 2 on a bike rack attached to the trunk, 5 in the car.

The disciplined Swedes in single file, headed by Magnus, the only one sans helmet. This picture was taken early in the morning, the only time that seemed tolerable this week: the temperatures rose well above 30° every day in the piercing Provençal sun, and some of the participants in the group, used to a cooler climate, had a hard time adjusting. I was in the car all week, handing out water, listening to terrible French radio, and with the AC on full blast...

The lavender was out in full bloom, offering the group a photo-stop:

Descending from the village of Oppède-le-Vieux, perched in the foothills of the Luberon Mountains.

Having noticed that there were several strong cyclists in the bunch -- like Joe, pictured below -- I decided to take a few of them on an après-ride in the Monts du Vaucluse. They had already done 50km with the group that day, but were still keen to join me. I had been sitting in the support vehicle all week, and was aching to get some exercise myself.

The 2-hour route I was going to take them on was to be tough, unlike anything they were doing with their tour guide, including a 5km climb into the mountains, to visit lost hamlets on steep and windy roads. I instructed them to be careful, drink loads of water, and stop as many times as necessary during the climb.

I paced them to the beginning of the hill, reminding them once again that it was hot, very hot, and that we could take as many stops as required before reaching the pass. What then transpired wasn't exactly as I had expected: the three of them kept a strong pace going uphill, didn't stop once, with me trailing several hundred meters behind and trying not to embarass myself silly.

When I explained to Joe that he was 20 years older than me, and that I should be keeping up, he told me that while participating in races he's passed by people 20 years older than him: "and that doesn't make me feel bad, it gives me hope for when I'm 20 years older..."

The following morning, met by the entire group and their guide, each had heard the story that I had a hard time keeping pace with the Scandinavians. Magnus explained: "I hear you go downhill very well, Stuart".

At 210 pounds I should hope so.