Ventoux

I was up in Mont Ventoux yesterday, hiking in Provence's highest mountain. While the summer heat was scorching the plains, the air in the mountains was fresh and relatively cool, with Ventoux's perma-cloud looming over the summit. Below is a shot taken on the steep northern slopes:

Late June is a wonderful time for mountain flowers near Ventoux's peak, and below is a compilation of shots taken just yesterday. In the center is the Greenland poppy, found only in two places on Earth: the Spitzberg islands in the Arctic circle, and the summit of Mont Ventoux.

Ventoux, from base to summit, has everything from Mediterranean brush and herbs all the way to the artic flowers that carpet the summit.

A healthy population of chamois live in Ventoux: about 500 of them altogether. Their natural habitat is on the steep rocky slopes, where they can escape prey with their impressive sprints uphill. Only about waist-high, but with a heart twice the volume of a human's, a chamois can gain 1000m (3300ft) in altitude in less than 15 minutes. But not fast enough to avoid my camera lens!!

800m from the summit, waiting eagerly at the side of the road, a photographer takes hundreds of shots of cyclists per day on their final ascent of Ventoux, hands them business cards, and hopes to sell the pictures via the internet...

My picnic spot after having reached the summit:

Heading back towards the Mont Serein campground, crossing impressive rockslides:

And back into the beech forest, just before the end of the day's hike...

Gordes

Gordes: One of the most beautiful villages in France. At least that's what its label says: one of about 150 villages in France, chosen based on their authenticity, beauty, and cultural/historical interests. I would argue the first point, but it doesn't really matter: the village is beautiful indeed.

But here's a warning: approach it from afar, like from the vantage point below, seeing the village in its medieval light, far from the tourist hordes (and believe me -- today was a Sunday in June -- and the village was packed). Observe how the houses are built in concentric circles, rising dizzyingly above the Calavon plains, and up to the church at the summit. To be more precise, it's the renaissance castle that sits at the summit, not the church; but the castle is partially blocked in this view, though you can make out its upper left side...


Now walk down to the very bottom of the village, where there are no stores, and thus no tourists (a chicken and egg conundrum: do the stores bring the tourists or do the tourists bring the stores?).

Beautiful sets of cobbled steps lead from the very base of the village to its summit, complete with old archways and centuries-old buildings.



Just before making it to the top...


...where I stayed all of two minutes before beginning the day's walk, a 10km loop to see the famed Sénanque Abbey. One needs only 10 minutes of walking past the village centre to lose the crowds, and be among landscapes like the one below, a picture taken before my descent into the Sénancole Valley, where the monks chose to build their abbey...


... where I arrived after about 90 minutes of walking, and found the crowds once again. The lavender fields in front of the abbey were not quite in total bloom, and so unfortunately no photos here...
From the abbey the GR (grande randonnée) path is hidden, and takes someone who knows to find it. It climbs steadily above the abbey, where you get some great aerial views, and then reaches the pass that joins the village of Gordes. But no roads for me!: another path descends alongside dry-stone walls and huts, and leads back to the village.

A great walk. Highly recommended!



Gotcha!!

A walk in the Luberon

Last Wednesday I found myself at the western edge of the Luberon mountains for a short but beautiful walk. The limestone cliffs are jagged and sheer at this end, unlike the rounded mounds farther east along the range. In the photo below, just before arriving in the village of Oppède le Vieux, the day's last rays of sunshine play with the leaves of a fig tree, while an olive grove in the foreground points the way to the vast Rhône Valley.

I managed to spot a roe deer during this walk, only the second time spotting one in the wild...

The village of Oppède le Vieux and its imposing entrance gate. From here the ruins of the village rise among the ruins of cobbled streets, and up to the ruins of the castle, perched dizzyingly above a sheer drop. No shops or tourist attractions: just an old Provençal village at its best...

Waymarks on a tree leading back from Oppède le Vieux on a centuries-old cobbled path. The walk itself was about 2 hours long, linking the picturesque villages of Maubec and Oppède le Vieux. Highly recommendeed!

Breaking News Story: the French Aquire Sense of Humour

On the famed TGV speed train, a "controleur" displays one of his many magic tricks with elated passengers. Before heading into the next wagon, we would see him make balloon poodles for smiling children, and scare a passenger by opening a wallet which would engulf in flames...

Defeated by Ventoux

It all started with a phone call. We (Walk Inn) had forgotten to equip bikes with computers for a group of Australians who began a self-guided tour of Provence today. And so after a day at the office I set off to the foot of Mont Ventoux, an hour's drive from Avignon, where the group had arrived after their first day's ride. Our famed and unbeatable Road Book led them easily to their destination, despite missing their computers...

Feeling quite masochistic today, I decided to bring my bike along, and test my legs on the dreaded climb up Ventoux. Too far above my fighting weight, and not having trained for years, I still managed 50 minutes, at a whopping average of about 8km/h (yes, you can easily run faster than that -- or even power walk), and encouraged by the spray-painted encouragements of last year's Tour de France: "Last Chance Lance", or perhaps the giant spray-painted phallus, all before throwing in the towel -- and my entire body -- disgracefully upon a tuft of savoury (an herbe de Provence) on the side of the road.


Near the base of the descent, with the evening sun hidden behind the clouds, a sea of vineyards and orchards extending toward the Rhône Valley.



A portion of the descent: don't try this at home kids...

Scandinavians in Provence

I can't say I had the best of guiding weeks; then again, I can't really say that I guided: I spent my week trailing 16 Swedes and Norwegians in a support vehicle, listening to terrible French radio stations, at speeds of about 10 to 15km/h. They already had their guide -- Magnus -- a veteran who's guided all over the world, mostly for cultural tours. My job was more a logistical one: fixing flat tires, repairing bikes, handing out water, preparing picnic lunches...

An example of a picnic lunch, set under the shade of an olive tree in the town of Roquemaure, across the Rhône river from Chateauneuf du Pape.


I managed to snap this shot below with the group in motion. I have to admit I placed the rosé there myself: the Scandinavians are too well-mannered to attempt such behaviour on their own...

Though the driving was tedious terribly boring, it was interesting chatting with the guests, whose world views, experiences, and cultural differences made for great conversion (in English of course: my Swedish is still rather limited).

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: