Biking Day 3: the Long Hill

May 7, Tuesday
Day 3: 62 km

Life on the Tour
(click on photos to enlarge)

These days have a shape to them. Breakfast is at 8, yoghurt and fruit and meusli, sometimes an egg dish, toast and toppings if you want it. Lunch makings are set out on an island: half baguettes, cheeses, cured meats, tomatoes, cucumbers, sometimes roasted veggies. Lots of whole fruit. We load up.

We start riding at 9. Hello, derriére! But any small ache disappears quickly, and the energy of a new day makes the startup really speedy and pleasant. We stop every hour or hour-and-a-half at a village or town, to have coffee and use the toilets.

Café/chocolat stop. Photo bombing is one of my skills.

I’m learning about group riding conventions. We travel mostly on small country roads with little traffic. If a car appears ahead, someone will call “car up” and riders chime the little bike bells and slide over into single file. “Ca beck,” shout the Australians as a car approaches from the rear.

Lavender season is in June, but this field of a low-growing variety was beginning to bloom.

There might be a couple of serious sight-seeing stops along the way, then we circle back to the barge, where the chef has laid out a snack of cut fruit or pastries or filled crepes, and an assortment of freshly made smoothies and juices.

Dinner is at 7 and consists of 3 courses, all nicely presented. Before dinner, the chef explains the meal, and the captain recommends an appropriate wine, which we can buy, for the dinner. Each night’s meal is theme-based. So far, the themes have been thyme, rosemary, saffron, chili. The flavours are subtle, meant to appeal to the masses. From the response, the approach is very successful.

After dinner, Carlos gives us the lowdown on the next day’s ride. After that, people visit, some of us write, and the lounge slowly empties as people head below, to bed.



The Big Day

I wonder what Van Gogh would think. Here, in a huge limestone quarry, walls and ceilings and floors are illuminated with his work. From early windmills to scattering crows, we follow his life in forty minutes of astounding spectacle, gashes of paint and operatic music. We are enveloped in Van Gogh. Would he love it, thinking finally he’s getting his due? Or would he turn away in disgust at the commercialization of his work? We can’t know, because either reaction would suit what we know of him.

I come away from twice through the works of Van Gogh, and I see the world differently. Each farmhouse comes from his painting, and each pile of hay bales, and each flock of birds that rises from a wheat-coloured field. Writers look for something to write about, musicians seek a theme, artists look for something to paint. Here in Provence, Van Gogh’s easel is everywhere. He would set it up and paint. What was there didn’t matter. What he painted was his passion, slashes of rage, or ecstasy. Maybe that’s what we love about his work: we see our own madness in it. Not the peasant, not the field, not the starry night.


Today was the day I was worried about, with a long haul uphill. While it was supposedly only 4 km of climbing, it was relentless, up and up and up. I hopped off the bike twice, for maybe 50 metres each time, enough to catch my breath and steel myself for more climbing.

It was worth it.

First stop, at the top, was for the Van Gogh exhibition at Carrières de Lumière (photos above). Sheilagh and I sat through two cycles of the show, the first for taking photos, the second for immersion.

Visit the website to get a sense of it: http://www.carrieres-lumieres.com/

After the exhibition, there was about 45 minutes to dash to the top of Les Baux, the hilltop fortress and village, admire the view, and dash down again.

Les Baux village, view from the fort

The fort. I was too rushed to find out anything about it.

I thought Les Baux marked the end of the ascent, but no, we were treated to some more climbing, for another view. A man operating a drone at the spot took a group photo for us. First drone shot ever!

Legless cyclists, Les Baux in the background. Photo by Carlos.

Our team. Photo by drone guy.

Finally, finally, we were sliding downhill, down all the way to St Remy, the site of the sanitorium where Van Gogh lived in his last months. Only 4 of us opted to go. I would have chosen to sit in a café with the others if I had known it would be an uphill ride, however short. Gaahhh!! It was a sweet stop, however, where we could peer into his one-time bedroom, and the room with the baths. He would have walked that cloister.

I bought a “Starry Night” fridge magnet in the gift shop. Van Gogh would have loved it, right?