 A
month ambling around the South of France on our push bikes ... scorching
hot days, lazy picnic lunches, curious cafés and a generous helping
of old world culture. We figured that June was a good time to escape the
clutches of Christchurch's winter, beat the high season congestion in
France and beat the rather non-ergonomic bulge growing in my tum - I would
be six months pregnant by the end of our trip.
Our plan was at best
ill defined. We left NZ with touring gear, airline tickets in to Marseille
and out of Paris, the Michelin guide for Provence, a collection of 1:200,000
maps and the self-belief that we could sniff out a good time. To kick
start the cycling and flee the muddle of Marseille, we hitched a train
ride 50km north to the gorgeous town of Aix en Provence. My partner Guy
found a shady spot outside the station and assembled the bikes and trailer
while I mined the Office du Tourisme for local points of interest and
camping options. It was a welcome relief to get back on the bikes after
lugging both them and our gear around airports and metro stations for
the past two days.
The "no plan" plan worked
brilliantly. We'd nut out our general direction and then each evening
pick a destination and route for the following day. The trick was to head
for the smaller towns and villages while sticking to the minor roads.
These are marked in white on most maps. The yellow departmental roads
are busier and still okay, but the red "Routes Nationales" should be avoided
at all costs. The Michelin maps also have handy icons denoting ruins,
churches, campgrounds, nuclear power stations and other "points of interest".
Scenic routes are marked with a green fringe and generally make for pleasant
travel. Everything you need to suss out an interesting route. Being under
Doctor's orders I was also considering how to best avoid over-heating
my precious cargo. We were blessed with quiet roads, balmy evenings laced
with evocative spring fragrances, and postcard-perfect scenery - vineyards,
olive groves, plane trees and Peter Mayle stunt-double farmhouses around
every bend.
Initially we headed west
to the ancient cliff-top village of Les Baux in Les Apilles area. We suffered
our only rain there - a biblical style display of thunder, lightning and
assorted feral animals that had us confined to our tent for twenty-four
hours. We then crossed the Rhone, stopping at the Pont du Gard (over-run
with tour buses and postcards but those Romans knew how to build a decent
aquaduct) before landing at Uzès. This was my favourite medieval
town with narrow streets, a fabulous arts market and a quaint little hotel
that provided a few indulgent nights away from the Thermarest.
Food is integral to any
cycling trip - no more so than in France. Compared to the Pacific Rim "standards" served
up at home, our restaurant experiences in Provence were both spectacularly
average and expensive. The fresh produce however
is a taste sensation. We would hit the markets, stock up with crisp veges,
local stone fruit, assorted salad delights ... and cook up a storm at
our tent. Lunch invariably involved a baguette stuffed with avocado and
banana washed down with a little wine or Orangina (the ubiquitous orange
soda to which I quickly became addicted).
After Uzès we
headed north into the Cèze, Ruom and Ardèche Gorges to be
water rats. The latter features a 30km canyon with a giant natural arch
called Pont d'Arc. Each day while we were there, a staggering 5000 punters
rented plastic canoes and floated down towards the Rhone. A spectacular
trip, although most ended up with impressive "rock lobster" sunburn. It
was unbelievably hot here - late 30's, even 40°. Not out to break
any distance records, our pattern was to rise for a leisurely breakfast
- a croissant plus the obligatory nose bag of jumbo oats, fresh fruit
and yoghurt. We'd ride in the relative cool of the morning, make our day's
destination a little after midday, pitch our tent and score some time
by the pool before exploring the local environs. A favourite game of mine
was sneaking "souvenirs" into the trailer, which caused untold grief
when discovered the next morning!
Emerging from the Ardèche
we then crossed back over the Rhone and headed east to the Drome area
in search of nodding sunflowers and fields of sweet smelling lavender.
We scored a bullseye on the sunflowers but a "close no cigar" for the
lavender as we were a couple of weeks early. And then it was time to hit
Paris for our fix of art galleries and museums. We had naively presumed
that we would simply jump on a train, however this proved immensely difficult
to do with bikes so we paid a small fortune for a rental car. It wasn't
all bad though as we were "forced" to overnight in a 12th Century Chateau
in the heart of Burgundy. A salutary reminder of the spoils of touring
the "old world". Oh là là!
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