Le Phénicien: Boat and Bike Tour

Boating and Biking: an interesting concept, and the first time I've guided such as holiday. The group was based on the riverboat Le Phénicien, slowly navigating upstream along the Rhône river, from Aigues Mortes near the Medieterranean Sea to Avignon, my home town.

The riverboat has 9 double rooms, just enough for the 9 couples who were on the tour. Joel and Sally from the U.S. organized this vacation tour for Sally's 70th birthday, and invited friends to join along. Of the 18 onboard 11 cycled with me every day -- anywhere from 30 to 50km --returning to the boat every evening for a gastronomic dinner.

Walk Inn, the company I work for, provided the wonderful new hybrid bikes, and myself as the guide for the duration of the trip.

A look at the dinner table, which I had the privilege to join in the evenings...

Relaxing on the boat

An homage to my cousin David, who takes brilliant photos playing with reflections...

Speaking of brilliance, below is Thierry, the onboard chef, who alone prepared breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all of us. I've never eaten so well in the 5 years I've guided, whether the duck breast with cherry reduction for dinner, or the pasta salad with asparagus for picnic lunch. Thierry was nice enough to share some cooking tips with me for my future groups.

Monday:

A short ride was planned for today's first bike ride: only 15km. We stretched the ride twice as long, going to visit the beaches east of Aigues Mortes on the Mediterranean Sea. In the photo below, Dave contemplates our lunch spot on the beach.

On the way back to the boat, a photo of the ramparts surrounding the town of Aigues Mortes.

Tuesday:

Leaving the sleepy village of Gallician, only 20km of riding was planned for the day. Seeing that the group was fit and enthusiastic about cycling, I decided to extend the riding to Arles, more than doubling the route. We began on former towing tracks alongside the canal, used as far back as 800 years ago by teams of horses who towed boats upstream.

Chris is a master napper -- avec or sans helmet -- and after lunch he demonstrated his prowess:

The Roman city of Arles, and its imposing coliseum, built in 100 A.D.

A view of the centre of Arles through one of the Coliseum's many arches:

A street in the centre of Arles:

Wednesday:

The goal is a loop to the perched village of Les Baux de Provence, hovering 200m above the plains. In the photo below we passed the ruins of a Roman aqueduct, and stopped to admire the structure and the surrounding countryside.

Having reached Les Baux, I took David -- the most experienced cyclist of the group -- on a little excursion to the upper ridges of the Alpilles Mountains, on a forestry track above the village. I struggled to follow him up the mountain. As the rest of the group remained sheltered in the village, the rains hit us hard, and the views of the surrounding mountain ranges were obscured. Once at the very top, in the photo below, we contemplated the view of the perched village, sans candy shops and tourist stores...

Before returning to the village, David and I stopped at the former limestone quarry, today used as a wine cellar.

Sitting in the warm comforts of a village café in Les Baux, run by the same family for 400 years, we waited out the storm.

Back on our bikes, we freewheeled back down the hill, and returned to the Arles in the bright sunshine.

Thursday:

Slight glitch: torrential rains pushed the current to levels exceeding the boat's ability to navigate upstream.: we were "stuck" in Arles another day, which meant some improvising to find an alternative cycling route. With a slight Mistral wind against us, we cycled north, on seldom-used roads, towards the town of Tarascon.

Before reaching town we found a quaint towing track alongside a canal, lined by centuries-old plane trees.

One of our magnificent lunches, held at the end of the canal. I've never had better picnic lunches in the 5 years I've been guiding...

Chris, after enjoying his lunch, taking one of his daily power-snoozes...

While preparing to leave our picnic spot, a flock of 600 sheep exited the same canal, and we watched in wonder...

What was less wonderous however, near the end of the cycling day, was the torrential downpour that hit us by surprise. Provence is known for its intense sun but also for its flash spring and autumn rains. Jim got a flat tire as we pedaled towards town, and so we switched bikes for the last 5km, into the pounding rain, made complete with close lightning strikes. Mostly everyone in the group found the storm amusing, and I did my best to conceal my fright and wear a smile.

We found refuge in the sleepy village of Vallabrègues, with hot chocolates in the neighbourhood bar...

And whoever said France wasn't the ultimate cycling kingdom should contemplate the following two streetlights:

Friday:

a 30km ride up the Rhône, and to the renowned winemaking village of Chateauneuf du Pape. Within the first few kilometers, Dave took a spill, and I didn't quite manage to snap the picture while he was still on the ground. Total count: 10 falls for the group over the week (some of which were spectacular but without any consequence), and 2 flat tires.

We rode by this magnificent field of poppies, which were in bloom just about everywhere along the sides of the road. We all got in and took group pictures in the field...

And we reached the famed vines of Chateauneuf du Pape, their gnarled branches stretching upwards from the rocky soil, and overlooked by the ruins of the castle, sitting atop the village. The Avignon Popes had the castle built, and were the first to plant vines here over 700 years ago.

The fountain in the main square of Chateauneuf du Pape, adorned with our bicycles. Every year in August, during the village's medieval wine festival, this fountain is hooked up to vats of Chateauneuf du Pape wine...

Back on the boat, having completed 5 marvelous cycling days in Provence, we navigated back downstream and to the town of Avignon. I said my goodbyes to the group after the ride, and they stayed onboard for their last dinner and night...

Here we all are, cyclists and non-cyclists -- all 19 of us -- atop of the Roman Colliseum in Arles:

Why I love my Job (if I haven't already mentioned it a thousand times)

I do love my job. Yesterday was the first hot day of the year. I spent most of the day in the car, shvitzing in the Provençal sun, doing some more scouting for a bike holiday, which runs from Avignon down to the Mediterranean Sea.

The best part of the day is when I have to leave the car behind and take out my bike, either on roads not fit for or forbidden to motorized vehicles, or around the narrow streets of tiny villages.

Just across the Rhône River, close to Avignon, I first passed through the town of Aramon. In all the touring or work I've done in the region, my travels have never taken me here. That's the beauty of rural Provence, or France for that matter: splattered with an endless choice of tiny villages set just 5 or 10km apart, you can spand a lifetime getting to visit them all.

Zipping through the narrow streets of Aramon, I was overcome by its massive stone buildings, its old cobbled roads, the disproportinate size of its ramparts. And all of this is hidden on the tourist map.

And plus it was market day: a small market filling the village square and the length of it main street, where the locals can stock up on fresh produce and spend the morning chatting with friends.

The old ramparts and a village gate:

A close-up of the old stone ramparts:

Looking up from the base of the ramparts, possibly to part of its old castle? (I'll have to look this up... unfortunately I didn't really have the time to stay here...)

An old bridge leading to the castle? Anyhow, I'll go back to investigate...

Near the day's end I passed through the town of Beaucaire, set on the Rhône, its main street passed through by a canal...

One of those times where I had to leave the car behind! On my map I saw what looked like a track following alongside a canal, and I went to check it out, and see if it was fit for cyclists. Conclusion: perhaps a little bumpy, but as you can see, for the scenery alone, it's worth the small detour from the roads...

Pernes les Fontaines

Pernes Les Fontaines: it's a village I've passed hundreds of times by bike or by car, a small town just outside Carpentras, and not far from Avignon. Doing some scouting for Walk Inn this past Tuesday, I entered the old part of Pernes for the first time, breaching the old ramparts. For someone from the "New World", for whom architecture is more a contemporary contemplation, I'm continuously awestruck, never tired of centuries-old buildings, dilapidated stone structures, ancient fountains and wash basins...

My boss Yann had talked of this town often, and I never really got the point until I entered the heart of it myself. In the picture below you can see one of the town's 40 fountains (hence its name), the village ramparts, and half of the old covered market (and my work tool: my bicycle).

A woman and her grandson contemplating the village ramparts and the Nesque River.

A peek inside the old town gate:

A walk through the vines in Burgundy

I returned from Burgundy last night, after spending two days amongst the vines, scouting hiking itineraries for Walk Inn. It was my first time in the region; it's always exciting to travel to new places for work, especially doing what I love best -- exploring countryside by foot.

My first task was to set out to the tiny town of Vougeot (despite ongoing train strikes), set beside some of the region's "Grand Cru" vineyards, and create a walking itinerary. The centuries' old estates and cellars, like the one pictured below, are seemingly impenetrable, open only to those with ranks of nobility, or at least those willing to pay the hefty prices some some of the Grand Cru wines, which start at about 80€ a bottle. But looks are deceiving: once inside the welcome is warm and sincere, frankly much more inviting than in my Provence (sorry Provençal winemakers, but it's true). And I was able to taste a variety of wines without having to pay, or without feeling pressured to buy (it did help however, when I announced I was setting up a walking tour, and sending people who are able to afford the wines...)


Below is the 12th century château du Clos de Vougeot, a few minutes' walk from the village of Vougeot, among the reputed vines. The tree in the forefront is used as this photographer's tool to block a large, white camping car at the château entrance...


The vineyards are set as on a thin line just above the Rhône Valley: high enough so that the water table is far below the surface, and low enough to enjoy the warm sunny climate on the first slopes. All of the best wines are mono-varietal: Pinot Noir for the reds, Chardonnay for the whites. The appellation "Grand Cru" concerns only 1.5% of Burgundy's vineyards, reserved for the best terroirs, or as they call them here: climats. I was told that the Pinot Noir grape is neutral in flavour, taking in all the particularities offered by the soil and the climate, ensuring the wines are very different from one climat to another. Complicated stuff to grasp, especially after having tasted 5 wines...


The waymarking here has a little twist, following the "bunches of grapes" sign. The walking in Burgundy is all about the prestigious vines and villages. While the landscapes aren't as grandiose as others I've experienced in France, the vines are indeed very grandiose. The holiday I was putting together here is very much about the vines: and what better way to get a grasp of the vignoble bourgignon than to walk among its vineyards, from one village to the next...


In the tiny hamlet of Chambolle Musigny, a linden tree planted in 1575.



I spent the night in the town of Beaune, often referred to as the capital of Burgundy (at least of its wines). The town is beatifully kept, majestic buildings and monuments, the streets are filled with 4-star hotels and Americans, a tourism centred 100% around wines and winemaking.



And only steps from the town -- literally -- are the prized vines, which is what makes a walking holiday here such a great concept. This was not the ideal time to come and see the vines, just days before the first buds. The political region is called the Côte-d'Or, translated as "golden slope", and referring to the scene in the autumn, with the vine leaves changing colour, a golden blanket above the Rhône Valley. Perhaps I'll come back in the fall...


The following day's walk was in the hills to the west, above the vines, starting from a village so small there aren't any shops. The boulangerie ambulante, or "bakery on wheels", makes its way to the village of St. Romain every morning at 8am, except on Mondays...



The morning was beautiful: fresh and cool air, bright sunshine, all the motivation needed to set off for a day's hike.

Leaving Saint Romain I set off on a quaint track through the forest, leading up to a limestone plateau. This is more my kind of hiking...



From the top, the views of the valley below are widesweeping. A touch hazy, the distant Alps weren't in view on this day, though apparently Mont Blanc often paints the backdrop of this particular scene.



The tiny town of Orches, nestled just below the limestone plateau, facing the morning sun in admiration.



In the town of Rochepot, the halfway point of the hike, I had the chance to admire its 13th century castle, set in the three photos below:





Near the end of the hike, high on the plateau, the views opened of the Rhône Valley: a veritable sea of vines stretching into the horizon.


A short video of lunch on my first day's hike: