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Text-only versionEver since our last hop on bikes and trains (mainly trains) around the Mediterranean, my longest-time buddy Deep and I have been pondering a bike trip with the Tour de France. After much talking and planning, we are still in the throws of making plans to go this year (2001 as I write this). Now before you run off getting grand ideas of pathetic little Vadim donning the yellow jersey after beating out the competition in the final dash on the last leg of the Tour, it's not that kind of a bike trip. True to form, it is meant as a grueling challenge, but the idea was to take a week and daily set out biking on the Tour de France course before the "real" riders, pull off the course somewhere along the way when the racers approach, watch them pass on cheer on our favorites, and then mount our bikes again and follow them at about half their speed for the remainder of the course. Of course, even completing the daily routine would be a challenge without going for time, but it's a valiant goal.
With all this build-up, it was quite a shock initially for me that I agreed to go biking in the south of France with a group of friends I very recently met at an ultimate frisbee in Manhattan. It was rather spur-of-the-moment, and especially surprising as I'm in New York as a tourist already, and it's taking time away from my tourist duties here. ;) But after mulling it over for a bit, I decided to go for it. The opportunity was there, the price was right, there were friends going, and I didn't know if the "real" trip would happen. So I decided to embark on...
Let me introduce the cast (major players anyway):
* Amy - organizer extraordinaire and bike grrl
* Wayne - bike dude there for the whole time (leads bike rides in NYC!)
* J - rock-climbing maniac in on the second loop, flew in and out with me
* Tim - did the first loop only, while bringing his own bike
* Vadim - yours truly
* Joel - Avignon based bike shop owner / renter who with a contagious sense of humor (not pictured)
* Luberon - the park / mountain range which served as the back-drop of our trip (widely pictured)
The others make more occasional appearances and will be mentioned as they come up. I actually never saw Tim on the trip as he departed on the morning that J and I arrived. Amy and Wayne were the troopers - there for both loops.
I arrived in Brussels after an enlightening conversation with Kirby, a beer marketer who was headed to Belgium for business. If anyone has ideas about opening bars or how to tap a keg, how much head beer should have, why to be wary of beers on Wednesday nights, especially at bars that server Guinness (I kid you not!), etc., I now consider myself an authority on the subject. Let me put it this way - the flight to Brussels is rather long, and neither of us has an ability to sleep on planes. I tried to be good and read the guidebook that Amie's mom so graciously lent me for the trip, but found that it only contained 3 pages relevant to the small places we were going to visit. Tourists are simply not expected to travel in a 200 mile circle through small towns I guess.
I was packed rather light, even by my standards - everything fit in one daypack sized backpack that I took on the plane with me and a camelbak for water. In Brussels, I noticed another person similarly lightly packed, but even more suspicious - he had just two panniers with him. I thought that this biking thing must be big there! When I ran into said biker again upon landing in Marseilles, I was rather suspicious, and it was only then that we figured out that were both in the same party - that was J!
Neither J nor I spoke much French (nothing beyond asking for a baguette anyway), but we somehow managed to mime out way to a ticket from the airport to the train station in Marseilles and then onto a train bound for Avignon. There were doubts about making it in time as our flight in Brussels was delayed by over 3 hours having moved gates on us as well, and we wanted to get to Avignon before the bike rental store closed. Things seemed to be stacked against us as we took the TGV, the world's fastest train, which apparently never made it out of first gear on our 1.5-hour, 60-mile, 1-stop journey (ah, the joys of a lack of high-speed track). Making all haste, we arrived at Avignon, at the Hotel Mignon, with an hour to spare, found Amy and Wayne, took much-needed showers, and rushed over to the bike rental shop just in time. In time to see that it was closed on Wednesdays - the night we arrived in town. Sigh. That forced us to simply relax, walk about the city a bit and enjoy our first splendid 4-course dinner, possibly the finest of the trip.
But enough religious wanings - the real reason it seemed so quiet is that we arrived late on a Wednesday night. ;) Despite the long flight and our sleepiness, we couldn't let our first evening in France go without a sight-seeing adventure. Scratch that - I'm really the quintessential tourist, wanting to see sights constantly, while Amy and Wayne had barely toiled at sight-seeing sprinkling it very infrequently among their biking adventures. They were there to bike in a beautiful setting. I was there to see Provence, using a bicycle as point-to-point transportation. Fortunately, everyone wanted to have a similar frequency of stops - me for sightseeing and them for fine food and coffee (of which I seldom part-take). So things worked out smoothly after all.
So back to the first night. Since J and I were without bikes, it left sight-seeing as the only reasonable alternative. So we went by the palace where the popes resided - Palais des Papes, which was closed, but managed to walk up through the beautiful gardens above the palace that offered grand views of what they had already biked and we were about to (Rocher des Doms garden). From the high lookout in the gardens, we could also clearly see the remnants of the bridge that was built into Avignon over the violent Rhone and maintained for several hundreds of years before being abandoned. It is the Pont St. Bénezet, built in 1177, and the story goes that St. Bénezet (no St. at that point) came into town one day and went to a service, where he yelled out that he was sent by God to build a bridge to Avignon. The local priest was stunned not knowing what to do, but the mayor of the city burst out laughing after a short silence, and the rest of the town followed suit. The mayor told Bénezet that if he was sent by God to build a bridge, he should take the 2-ton block left over from the city wall construction and set it in the river as the foundation stone for the bridge. Promptly, Bénezet complied with divine intervention, and gained a St. prefix shortly after death.
God may have called for the bridge to be built, but maintenance was up to man, and the 12 arches of the bridge collapsed frequently due to the frequent violent flooding of the Rhone. What's left today is the last 3 arches which contain the chapel of St. Bénezet below and it's replacement above. The Pont St. Bénezet became the subject of a catchy song about dancing under it which Wayne, being a former music teacher by profession, hummed for us off sheet music, and which would seldom leave our heads for the duration of the trip.
From the gardens on top, we were offered a view of the grand fort across the river, as well as some bikes that we were tempted to take in lieu of hiring our own. They were very pretty, but we counldn't figure out where to attach the panniers (see pics).
After sight-seeing, we treated ourselves to an amazing dinner at La Fourchette, an elegant restaurant that came recommended by both our hotel and my guide-book. They were not wrong! It was a rather pricey meal by French standards, but fortunately, the exchange rate was working much to our favor. Not much to do after such a fine meal to finish a day of travel other than slumber for the night.
The following morning, after being treated to our first of many Le Petit Déjeuner (aka breakfast) of baguette, yummy butter, local jam and honey, and a caffeinated beverage, we got to meet Joel. He is a very energetic Frenchman who rents bicycles (velos), while proclaiming that there is a BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG PROBLEM with leaving them unattended or unlocked. "Like wife - turn around for one second, whoooosh! Gone!" Joel outfitted J and myself with nearly identical hybrid bikes, panniers, and locks. About 5 meters out, J noticed that his tire went flat, so he was once again outfitted with a bike, fortunately before having to retrace much distance.
With farewells to Joel, the four bicycleers set off for a wild adventure of biking through Provence.
On my last day in France, I got a chance to revisit many of the same sights in Avignon, but this time they were open and I got to explore them in much more detail, as the pictures will attest to.
After a vote of whether to bike or take the train out of town ended in a win for biking, we started our adventure with city streets for several kilometers before finding out way out of town. Amy was instrumental in being the fearless leader with the map and a knack for knowing which way to go, J being an avid map co-pilot, and Wayne and I going along for the ride, so to speak. She guided us on roads to Cavaillon where we switched to more quaint back-country roads. A few km down the road we had established a riding pattern that was to last for the entire trip - either the four of us rode together, or Wayne and I would ride close-by while Amy and J formed a second pack. In the mid-morning, I had to satisfy my first urge for a sight-seeing break, so while a little ahead, I dumped my bike and went to hike up a hill to gain some panoramic views on top as well as to see a monument of deportation.
Back down on bikes once again, we biked on to Maubec where I first encountered our method of water supply. Every little French town has in the city center (center-ville) two items of critical importance to pilgrims like ourselves: a potable water fountain, and facilities for getting rid of any extra accumulation. These fountains were often quite picturesque and the water tasted great!
Biking on from Maubec we went on to Oppède-le-Vieux, which was up on a hill, but did it have a view indeed! While the rest of the crew were finishing up lunch, I hiked up the hill through the little town up to a restored 13th century church and the ruins of a same-period castle, which offered a panorama of the roads below. From there, it was on (well, down, to be precise) to Oppède and then Menerbes. One disadvantage to a late start is a late breakfast, which translates to a late lunch, and as we found out the hard way, lunch after 2 pm or so is simply not done. We settled for buying prepared food at the local store and eating the French version of take-out.
After lunch, it was on to Lacoste, a town with clearly no sense of fashion, yet surprisingly no alligators either. As you enter and exit each town, there is a sign indicating that fact, but the crossed-out Lacoste, my little fashion rebellion, is a little hard to make out in the only picture I snapped en route. Lacoste is also home of the famous château belonging to the Marquis de Sade, but which was closed when we passed by, but the gargoyle on the door was smiling at us (see pic).
The next stop was Bonnieux where there was a wonderful local artist exhibiting next door to the Tourist Information Center (TIC), painting local subjects. Indeed, there were gobs of lavender fields and quaint villages. One advantage of being on bike is that you're seldom tempted to buy stuff for fear of having to lug it around. That didn't stop me from purchasing a bottle of wine to haul, but I'm jumping ahead. While were at the TIC, J, being a sweet-tooth addict and able to consume great quantities of just about any food, went up a steep hill in search of a pastries. After waiting for him for a while to return, we reluctantly headed up the hill, only to find him waiting up there with coffee in hand. Priorities, after all, have to paid attention to. The temptation was too great, and Wayne and Amy joined J for an ultra-thick cup of latte, which game me an opportunity to scramble across the street to take in the Boulengerie Musee, documenting the history, process, and tools of the making of my favorite food - bread! While the signs on the doors seemed promising in their variety of languages, the exhibits inside were labeled in French only, so while I saw it all, I had to use my imagination and very rough translation skills to put two and two together (it's five, right?). Still, most of the exhibits spoke for themselves very well.
After gathering ourselves over coffee and sweets, we set off into the setting sun for Buoux.
Buoux is known as a hiker and rock climber haven in Provence, and it's easy to see why. Our B&B there was amazing - carved into the side of the mountain with splendid views of the majestic cliffs. We settled in, cleaned up, had a very nice dinner (of local trout), ate way too much once again, and slept like babies. That is, to say, with fits waking up too early and crying (sans crying). Jet lag persisted.
The next morning, we had breakfast in the lodge over the pool, took some more pictures of this amazing site, and set off to bike once again.
After much ogling and little pedaling, we got to Cereste where we stopped for lunch. I decided that we should have a real country picnic for dinner, so I stopped by for my first fresh baguette (whole from a store, $.70 - can't beat it!), and went to a wine specialty shop that opened as we were about to set off. Provence is not known as one of the better wine making regions of France, but they do have a variety of excellent rosès, which I was getting acquainted with. I picked up a bottle of rosè and some cheese completing the picnic supplies, packed them into my panniers, and set off. Little did I know that the baguette would be the sole item consumed on the trip, the wine and cheese being lugged for the reminder of the time, eventually completing the journey back to the United States with me.
Setting off after lunch, we biked through a scenic variety of hilly towns - Carluc, Reillane, Vachères, Aubenas-les-Alpes, and finally into St. Michel l'Observatorie. Amy had warned us that our B&B was a km before town, and described the turn-off, but while Wayne and I saw it and inspected it for several minutes, the street name that Amy was given was wrong, so we decided to pass and had to back-track later. While we were wondering why the town was called l'Observatorie - I had guessed it was some French thing like a place to see (and you can indeed see the entire Luberon mountain and forest range from up there), the answer was simple - J wins this one. It is because there are wicked northern winds in the area, called the Mistral, and the winds clear the air wonderfully, so there are several observatories in the forest, as you can see in the picture. There is also a strange rock with a gradual face and two vertical ones sticking out and looking almost man-made. I'm still not sure what it is.
After hanging out in town around the picturesque fountain, we back-tracked to Le Farnet, our B&B for the night. Amy did a wonderful job lining up B&Bs for our trip, and this was no exception. It was called Le Farnet, and was located a few km outside of St. Michel l'Observatorie. It's the only structure on a hillside, with nothing but wild lands and gorgeous views around. Though the B&B could accommodate 16 guests, we were the only visitors that evening. The family (Pascal and Marie with their son and the family dog) spoke quite passable English, and were very happy to do so with us - it was a strange sort of French hospitality towards us silly Americans. They cooked us up a great meal, chatted about a diverse set of topics into the wee hours of the evening, and introduced us to some of the local sweets and liquors. Afterwards, there was little to do but indulge in a bath (there no shower) and slumber the night away.
After the hills we biked on to Carniol, and then to Simiane la Rotonde, a ghost town with a great tower on top of a hill (a "rotonde"). The flats on the way to Simiane la Rotonde offered splendid views of the hilltop town, several of which are shown here. It is the platonic form, in my opinion, of an old European hill-town.
Biking on to St. Christol, I had a scare involving nature. Not, not *that* type, silly! As I was biking on the slight uphill, riding hard into the Mistral, head down, grinding away, a bee managed to fly across my path, bounce off the bottom of my helmet, and somehow wedge itself inside my sunglasses and into my eye. I thought that it had stung me in or near the eye, so I made an emergency stop, jumped off the bike, and used the little water remaining to clear my right eye. Fortunately, no stinger was there - it was simply the impact that hurt, and things returned to normal shortly thereafter, save for the red eye I was to have for the next couple of days. It could always be attributed to extended severe jet-lag anyway.
Upon arrival to St. Christol, I decided to skip lunch with the others and instead stopped by a store for some locally grown olives, grabbed my baguette and one of the two frommages (that's cheese to you and me) from the previous day, and proceeded to have a picnic lunch. It turned out to be my only picnic in the French countryside, and I'm glad I snuck it in. I was especially glad for my choice when I rejoined the others to discover that Amy had been daring in ordering and ended up with tripe sausage (that's a hot dog made from intestines to you and me) as her mystery meal. Yum! J was nice enough to help out with it.
The afternoon was consumed with a steep and scenic (sorry if I'm going overboard on the scenery, but as you may guess by now, it was really fantastic!) ascent into Sault. After a good climb, we were elated to see the 10% downhill sigh. The road was also straight with good visibility, which made for an unreasonably fast descent. We had the bikes going at least 50 (km per hour, anyway), which is kinda scary on a hybrid with lots of gear in tow. Sault is a quaint town of good size, at least among the towns we were biking in. It had a picnic ground with a view of the valley, and more importantly, an ATM. I was running very low on funds and the previous little towns did not have an ATM at which my card worked. The trek reminded me of the TV commercial of the little boy leading the stranded traveling couple to "Atiem" who could help. Atiem certainly helped me on plenty of occasions.
Having just had payday, I hit the local market, purchased some delicious local fruits and almonds, and then rejoined the group to head off for our inn, 1 km from Monieux a bit down the hill. The inn was a real country inn, with farmland around it and many blooming flowers in the common area (pictured). Wayne, Amy, and J headed off to Monieux for dinner, but I decided to skip it after overindulging at lunch time. Instead, I feasted on the local fruit, strawberries, and almonds I had acquired before and used the evening to write postcards, having forgotten to do it on my previous trip to Japan. I'm a slow postcard writer, and for a dozen cards, it did take me a good chunk of the evening. After I walked along the stream behind the inn, but decided to head back in after getting eaten alive by the nature at disk. The sounds of nature were rather loud as we fell asleep at the Le Moulin inn.
Taking it easy, we rode into St. Didier for our final lunch as a foursome, and it was fine local salads all around! We took our parting shot in town and parted ways - J & Amy heading off for an inn on the way, and Wayne and myself biking all the way back to Avignon.
As the sun was setting, I set off for Villeneuve-Les-Avignon, across the bridge (no, a modern bridge next to the Pont), taking some pictures from afar of Avignon at sunset, which did not pan out very well. Still, the long walk into the gradually darkening far coast was nice - especially the strange sensation of walking after all that biking. There is a large and famous fort in Villeneuve which I set in search of - Fort St. Andre. The detail on my map was rather low, and I got a little lost in town. Wandering around at night certainly didn't help me find my way.
In search of the fort, I eventually stumbled upon the Chartreuse du Val de Benediction - palace used by a few popes as a retreat. The doors were not locked from the courtyard, but there were a couple of people that eyed me strangely as I walked in, so I looked around and quickly headed out. Continuing the search for the fort, I ran into a dead end, and returned to the Chartreuse. Reading more about it, I decided that it was really a place worth checking out; the others were gone, and it was their fault for leaving the door open. ;) So in I went. It's almost like a dungeon setting - exploring dimly lit narrow unknown hallways, walking up and down stairs, discovering courtyards and halls. The interior of the building was closed, but the grounds were the most interesting parts anyway. Pictured is one of the sacred finds - a well dating back from the 1300s and exquisitely carved. Avignon was sieged more than once, and so Villeneuve had to be ready for it as well.
After exploring the Chartreuse, I headed back in search of the fort, eventually finding it. The two large towers our front surround the only entrance in classic early Medieval style. There was also a square tower by the entrance below, but by the time I made it there, a light drizzle had started, and seemingly a drop landed on my camera lens. It was strange to see the rain as we had such beautiful weather the entire time (one light drizzle for an hour during lunch on the first day excluded). The rain was my cue to depart, so I headed back to Avignon over the bridge, arriving rather late.
The next day started out with our final breakfast, returning the bikes to Joel, who was there at last (though we got to the shop before he opened it 15 minutes late), repacking from his panniers into my backpack and checking out. Bike rental for the entire trip ran about 250 FF, which is about $35 - what a bargain! Wayne had an early flight, so he headed off for the airport, and I was off exploring once again!
Palais des Papes was the first hit of the day - this time it was open! The rooms are gargantuan, especially by 14th century standards. I took an audio tour, which was informative but rather bland. Live tour guides are just so much better. You could see how the palace was repartitioned with more floors, etc. for various wars, but has been restored since. It has 4 wings built by two popes, with rather conflicting architectural styles. In line with the theory that you can easily spot historical buildings in Europe by looking for the ones with scaffolding closed for repairs, the chapel which housed a lot of work by Giovannotto was closed for renovations, and I had to be satisfied with a single mural of his in the main room. There was also some 3d art of the period with really interesting expressions that I simply had to sneak in a picture of (no pictures allowed).
As I left the palace, I was thankful for completed my velo journey the day before and it was steadily raining now. My sympathies were with Amy and J who were likely on the road back to Avignon at this time. Brooding no longer, I set off for the Pont St. Boneset (Pont d'Avignon), which was open as well. It didn't look like much from above, but the stories of its construction and upkeep since the 1100s were intriguing. It needed to be constantly rebuilt due to damage and flooding of the Rhône, which sent giant tree logs in the rapid currents careening into the arches and periodically taking them out. Ah, the marvels of modern civil engineering. From the Pont, I took a couple of pictures back into Avignon.
From the Pont, I climbed up into the gardens to see them at daytime before descending back into town for my last meal. Rather than a sit-down meal, I opted for splendid bread fresh from a bakery and hit a small store for some good wine to bring back with me (the specialty wine store in town was closed Mondays :( ). I tried to spend all of my money on good wine, bringing four bottles back with me, somehow fitting them all into my little backpack. Still I failed to spend it all with the good exchange rates, and still have a 200 FF note with me as a memento, waiting for my next visit.
Amy and J rejoined me at the Hotel Mignon, where it all started, and we took a taxi ride to the airport in Marseilles, saying our final fare-wells to a lovely region of France!
