Walking with Peregrine Adventures: a hot week in the Luberon

I guided the following walking holiday for Peregrine Adventures: 3 days in the Luberon mountains and 3 days around Vaison la Romaine, just north of Mont Ventoux.

Our journey begins in the village of Bonnieux, nestled in the heart of the Luberon mountains. The spring has already been one of the hottest ever recorded and today is no exception: it's still the month of May but the temperatures are that of the middle of the summer, in the mid 30s.

We seek refuge in a "borie" for lunch: a centuries-old dry stone hut used to house tools and for shelter. The thick limestone walls keep the inside cool in the summer, and we stay at length to escape the midday heat.

After two years of walking through all kinds of terrain, and under 200 pounds of constant pressure, my sandals finally give way, ripping in three places at once. A good laugh is had at the expense of the guide (though laughing with, and not at me), who in this case sets a poor example for footwear...

I provide entertainment but also accept pity: Pierre takes out some electrical tape from his bag

and I wrap the sandal back together. It would hold about an hour, and I would spend the next two weeks walking in them...

The May poppies along an old stone wall, just outside the town of Buoux (pronounced "Pukes", but with a B -- that way you don't forget).

No sandals needed in here! At the end of the first day's walk we arrive at the Auberge des Seguins, hidden in the far depths of the Luberon, for a 3-night stay. The pool is only 18° or so, but after a hot day in the Provençal sun, the cold waters are more than soothing.

On Tuesday the temperature climbs again. We begin our walk in the town of Gordes, listed as one of the "most beautiful villages in France".

Though the village itself is busy with shops and tourists -- Gordes has become a victim of its beauty and popularity -- we approach it from afar, through its ancient, quiet, and timeless cobbled streets. And once we leave town by foot, along its stony paths and toward the famed 12th century Sénanque Abbey, we don't see a soul. A total absense of people. And this can be explained in two ways: 1) few travellers venture far from the heart of this village, or any other Provençal village for that matter, which is why it's so important to stray from the well-trodden tourist path. And 2) it's hot enough to stay inside, lay naked on a ceramic tiled floor, and with all the fans on full-blast, or air-conditioning if you're lucky to have it... 

But my hearty group of Aussies (and Ainslie the Kiwi), used to the heat (except maybe for Ainslie the Kiwi), is ready to take on all challenges....

Bernie takin' it easy at the town square in Gordes:

And Wednesday is even hotter. We leave the auberge early, and climbing up the Luberon mountains we get a soothing breeze, the northeren Mistral winds that make an untolerably hot day somewhat tolerable.

Ainslie the Kiwi seeks midday shade after lunch:

Back at the auberge, lounging by the pool, and slipping in and out of a sieste, a butterfly lands on my shoulder. Then my knee, then on my head, then on my back. It flutters off to a nearby tree and promptly returns with a friend, and both dance circles around each other and around me, taking breaks to land on my body, and this for about 15 minutes (I'm easily amused on my long and lonely guiding expeditions...)

We begin Thursday with an unplanned visit to the village of Lacoste, perched in the Luberon. It must be said that my spontaneous decision to stop here was spurred by sadism. The Marquis de Sade, that is. Three days previous, driving to the start of our first walk, I had pointed out the town of Lacoste, mentioning the ruins of Sade's castle. Much interest ensued: talks of whips and beatings and of "40 days of Sodom", one of Sade's works I recommended -- in jest of course.

Sade's castle, overhanging a labyrinth of cobbled streets in the old village. I highly recommend visiting Lacoste: off the beaten tourist path, and a magical collection of village homes packed in tight quarters, winding up to the castle.

In Lacoste:

We arrive in Vaison la Romaine after a short walk, and at dinner on a terrace we enjoy a spectacular sunset:

On Friday morning Pierre and Catherine prepare for their ascension of Mont Ventoux. It's not planned on the Peregrine itinerary: today is actually a day off to explore the town and take a break from walking. But why stay in town when you can climb Provence's highest mountain, and in the bad weather!?

The accumulation of heat over the week is often a build-up for the rains, and today is no exception. The air is cool at our starting point, at the sort-of-ski-resort of Mont Serein. At 1400m the temperature is 11°C, a drop of more than 20 degrees from yesterday's walk.

Pierre looking down Ventoux's northern slope, as the clouds become more ominous:

The last 45 minutes of the climb are through the scree, under the rains and Ventoux's ever-present winds.

At the summit, now 8°C in the rains and in the strong winds, we seek refuge in the chapelle Sainte Croix for lunch. In the photo below, after an emotional climb, Janice is relieved to escape the harsh winds at the summit.

In the evening I organise a wine and cheese dinner, where we enjoy some of the region's best wines and stinkiest (and therefore best) cheeses. We are to have a reading this evening: unbeknownst to me, keen after a visit to Lacoste and after much discussion and laughter, Pierre found and downloaded --on his "Kindle" -- the aforementioned work of the Marquis de Sade. The actual title turned out to be 120 days of Sodom, not the "40 days" I had previously evoked. This made Pierre's search for the work more difficult, but he found it nonetheless. But what he found he deemed unsuitable for any audience, not one of the 120 days acceptable to share aloud, and so Pierre left it to our discretion, and in our own free time, to read the Marquis' work.

At breakfast, an Aussie is caught (not mentioning any names, Bernie) with a tube of Vegemite, which according to most Australians tastes good, and cures several ailments, including some forms of cancer.

Our last walk, on Saturday, begins in the town of Séguret, surprisingly quiet. We take advantage of this, exploring the town at length and at a slow pace.

Pierre and his almost-beret admiring the old clocktower:

And Catherine admiring a sea of vines: the Rhône Valley.

A group photo at the crest of the Luberon, on the rounded pastures parched by the sun, fresh even after a 500m climb. Thanks to Pierre, Catherine, Ainslie, Roz, Bernie, and Janice for a wonderful week...

For Peregrine Adventures: when the group is faster than their guide...

It all started with a wait for one of my guests in the border town of Ventimilia, in Italy. Unlike the French towns set within a stone's throw along the coast -- such as Menton, Nice, and Monaco -- Ventimilia is unassuming, devoid of the glitz of the French Riviera.

I had always known Ventimilia through its tourist stores and restaurants close to the train station. This time however, with more time to spare, I strolled through the newly cobbled streets of the old centre, the delapidated façades of buildings exposing the uneven patchwork of bricks behind. A labyrinth of archways and narrow lanes, children playing, clothes drying on lines outside the modest homes, all seemingly timeless.

False advertising in Ventimilia:

Once back in France, settled into our hotel in the town of Villefranche sur Mer, we took the time to explore, here looking outwards from the "Rue Obscure". Villefranche is much more manageable in size than its neighbouring Nice, a population of 6000 huddled in the protected cove on the Mediterranean Sea. That same protected cove attracts cruiseships the size of the city itself, about one or two of them a day during the tourist season. But by nifghtfall the ships have left and the town remains quiet.

Our first walk took us around the ultra-chic peninsula of St. Jean Cap Ferrat. Here Judy watches as a cruiseship arrives in the bay. I knew things would be different than usual: my guests were walking faster than me, charging up and down the steps carved along the coastline. This all seemed too easy for them. And so we set off for a little "side-loop", adding a few kilometers, and from that day forward none of the walks would be as planned...

The following day I thought I'd challenge the group, and so I took them on a 400m ascent starting from sea to the perched village of Eze. But it was still too easy.

The ancient cobbled path zigzags up the slope, the same path up which Nietzsche walked during his many trips to the Riviera. For Nietzsche, the exercise helped him in his thinking. But for me, even with thousands of hours of guiding in my legs, I can't really say I'm all the smarter...

Arriving below the fortified village of Eze, perched like an eagle's nest high above the sea. On the climb up to the village we saw no one, before bracing ourselves for the busloads of tourists walking through the village itself.

In the village of Eze:

Sally's attempt to hide behind a bay tree:

Descending back towards the sea, among valerian and Spanish broom, we would see two young women dressed in flipflops and sundresses, making their way up the path. And so ensued the second of two misunderstandings between the Aussie guests and their Canadian guide: Aussie says: "Did you see the girls in their silver thongs?". Canadian guide, flustered and perplexed that he wasn't the first to observe this, had misunderstood "thongs" as something altogether different than footwear... 

At our hotel in Villefranche, having a pizza night. Excellent pizza.

After two walking days we had a day to "stroll" through the streets of Nice, below at the famed market in the Cours Saleya. We ate salads overlooking the town on the perch that once held the castle, as I listened intently to a schoolteacher describe the panorama and history of Nice to his students (I did a simultaneous translation for my Aussies)...

After Nice I slept for most of the taxi transfer to Aix en Provence, before we settled into our hotel for the next two nights. Below is one of the many famed fountains in the town centre.

Aussies and Canadians share the same queen but manage to speak with different tongues. On the very first day I wondered why Sally was asking about the spice needed in our bags, when in actual fact she was referring to "space", only with her "accent". We had a good chuckle over this slight misunderstanding, and the joke remained over the course of the week.

Since the Aussies do indeed live upside-down, many of their behaviours are also backwards. Take Sally for example, wearing her "frontpack" along the trails. This behaviour enables the Aussie species to eat the contents of their packs without stopping, as seen in the photo below...

Ok, so the first two walks were too easy. The only thing left to do is to climb up to...

... the summit of the Sainte Victoire mountain, seen above-right in the photo below. Ae we nuts?

As we climb the views get better, and the cool breeze soothes the efforts of a three-hour ascent:

Judy and Sally grew up on a sheep farm, but prove to be veritable mountain goats up the cragged path towards the summit. The cross, seen in the picture below, stands at 946m in altitude, offering the group a breathtaking panorama of Provence.

Walking along the crest of the Alpilles mountains the next day, our last walk of the holiday:

Sally's famed "frontpack" angled toward the medieval perched village of Les Baux de Provence, where we would finish the day's walk:

A group photo taken just below the village of Eze. A big thanks to Rosemary, Bill, Sally and Judy for a fantastic week in Provence.

Mont Ventoux guided walking...

Walk Inn's inaugural Mont Ventoux walking trip begins in the village of Séguret, listed as one of the most beautiful villages in France. We stroll through the ancient cobbled streets before...

... following ancient tracks wedged between the vineyards and olive groves. The paths are green with spring growth and the temperatures are ideal for walking.




After a night in a hotel hidden in the vines, our second day's walk takes us high above the vineyards, through the Dentelles de Montmirail mountain range. The vine-clad terraces rise until the slopes are almost vertical, while the summit of Mont Ventoux looms in the distance.



The dark and rumbling skies above the village of Gigondas give us warning, but we continue onwards. Before we reach our hotel the skies open, and within moments we're soaked to the bone, experiencing a typically fierce but brief Mediterranean storm...



Roger, his first time in France, making up for lost time during a picnic break:



Our third walk proves to be te toughest, around the foothills of Mont Ventoux, but smiles still paint our faces:



For our fourth walk we change the itinerary: the group is keen to climb to the summit of Ventoux, atop the roof of Provence. Here the vegetation changes from Mediterranean to Alpine, the young cones of a larch tree below:




The impressive slopes of Ventoux along the bare rock... the haze prevents views extending to the Alps on this day, but the landscapes are breathtaking nonetheless:




Among the mountain pine, larch, spruce and fir, Barbara and Roger spot some birds above our path. Barbara is a keen birder, donating her time to a bird rescue centre in the U.S.



Near the summit we encounter a patch of snow, still fending off the rising temperatures of Spring. Ross and Sheena from Australia bask in the novelty, while the couple from Chicago remains unimpressed.

We stage a video here which I've kindly left out of the blog, for the sake of all families involved, but more or less goes as follows:
Man from Chicago gives Aussie a small pocketknife, and Aussie responds: "You call that a knife?"
Aussie then gives man from Chicago a snowball, and man from Chicago responds: "You call that snow?"




The final few paces to the summit of Ventoux, above the trees, finishing a spectacular zigzagging path leading to the top:




An afternoon initiation of the game of pétanque; note the concentration in Barbara's face as she strives mercilessly to destroy the competition (which she does).



With four days of walking in our legs, the last walk feels almost like a Sunday stroll, through the thyme-laden hills above the village of Suzette.




Our final destination is Vaison la Romaine, where we stay in the heart of the medieval village:




The five of us a day before, at the summit of Mont Ventoux, overlooking all of Provence and happy to enjoy a week of walking together...

To learn more about this holiday, visit our website: 
www.walkinnprovence.com

First group of the year!!!

Me and my first group beneath the haunting ruins of castle of the Marquis de Sade, crowning the village of Lacoste.

Cherry blossoms in April...

Just outside the picturesque village of Vénasque, in the heart of Provence, the cherry orchards are in full blossom; and with the evening's last rays of sun we stop to bask in their sweet perfume...

February in Mont Ventoux

In the plains the temperature has been hovering close to 20°c for a week, the almond trees are in flower, an early spring has hit Provence. And so I decided to climb up to mont Ventoux to put the final touches on the self-guided walking holiday that Walk Inn now offers in Provence's highest mountain. What I didn't expect was about 30cm of snow, fallen just the day before...

Overlooking the Baronnies mountains to the north, on the freshly fallen snow:

A sprinkling of new snow on the mountain pines leading towards the summit:

For more information about our self-guided holiday in Mont Ventoux, check out our website: 

Ventoux: hiking on the roof of Provence