Monday, October 25, 2010

4 Yanks and 4 Aussies in Provence ...

Bittersweet: the last walking tour of the season for me, before a long winter hibernation behind the desks of Walk Inn (would anyone like to sign up for a winter tour, PLEASE!!??).

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:


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:



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...


to learn more about the day-by-day of the adventure:

http://walkinnprovence.com/ang/walking-product-WDLA0.html


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...


Sunday, October 10, 2010

a week with Neil and Helen...

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.


A message from Neil and Helen: "From our arrival at the very hospitable and funky Hotel Welcome at Villefranche sur Mer we knew this would be a memorable week.  The beautiful harbour with its cruise ships and relaxed feel is a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Nice.  The three days spent on the Mediterranean coast provided varied perspectives of landscapes and lifestyles, stunning views from 400m+ to seaside walks with waves crashing against the rocks.  Our days spent inland in the stunning Luberon gave us breathtaking scenery amongst a variety of dramatic contrasts from sheer rock walls to truffle farms. 
 
Stuart, our guide, did everything he could to make this an exceptional experience ensuring that he catered for our specific needs.  The food was amazing, making use of the fresh local produce available wherever possible.  We enjoyed a wonderful variety of meals from cafes to gourmet feasts and scrumptious picnic lunches.  Stuart's vast knowledge of the area, its history and the food gave us a greater insight to Provence than we could possibly have found otherwise.  We will most certainly be recommending this trip to others and would have no hesitation in doing another Walkinn tour.  In short, a fantastic week!"


Thanks for a great week Neil and Helen!!!


Interested in the tour?