Friday, May 10
35 km
Yesterday
we navigated the Rhône into Avignon after our ride. Approaching the
city on the river, the Pope’s Palace is visible first, long before
arriving. Even from a distance, its gleaming facade is imposing, rising
above the trees. Its message is clear.
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| The Palais from the distant south |
We cruised by a river boat landing zone, three of them lined up. I no longer have any desire to take a cruise on one of those, not after the intimacy of our little barge.
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| Hello Viking Tours! |
We cruised by the famous Pont d’Avignon, and the Canadians sang the song. We docked just past it, and had time for an hour’s walk before dinner.
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| Enjoying a rare warm moment on deck, in our matching new shirts. |
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| All hands on deck, preparing to dock |
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| Phlippo directing the captain |
Today we woke to our first sunny and windlesss day since the start of the trip, the first day I didn’t have to wear at least my down vest and a windbreaker.
It made for an especially enjoyable ride, being the kind of weather we think of when we think of Provence. We crossed the Rhône to Île de la Bathelasse, the leafy lanes and fields reminding me of an island I'd once visited near Québec City. Much of the territory we’ve been riding through has been developed into fairly large plantations, but these plots were smaller and more homely. They were meticulously planted, with perfect rows of evenly-spaced young greens. I’m thinking it’s no wonder my own crops don’t compare, when I see the care given by real gardeners as they tend their land.
From the low riverside lanes, I saw a looming hill ahead and thought we couldn’t possibly be heading up there, considering the description of the day as “an easy 35 kilometres”. Go left, Carlos, I was thinking, please go left, but he went right, up the hill, of course. This hill, while not nearly as long as the Les Baux hill, beat people that hadn’t been beaten before. The strong ones and the e-bike riders had cameras at the ready as four of us approached the top, recording the Walk of Shame.
As I said to a fellow cyclist (all in good humour), they haven’t once told us the truth about the daily rides; either the distance or the elevation change has been just a weeny bit underestimated. Lies and deception!
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| Resting the legs in a village café. Mandy, Sheilagh, Michelle, Mel, Sarah |
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Today was the first day people were mentioning sore legs. It’s not the riding, it’s when you get off the bike and try to walk. The muscles don’t want to do it, after six straight days of operating differently. I have to say that I experience a moment of elation when I first hop on the bike in the morning or after a stop. Leaning into corners, I feel as one with the machine. And I love the sense of soaring, the speed and the power. I haven’t felt that since I was a kid, when I’d take off riding for miles on my own, wind in my hair in those pre-helmet days.
The plateau we reached is the site of a small Medieval commune called Villeneuve-lès-Avignon, once a resort for French cardinals during the Avignon papacy of the 14th century. I don’t know why they needed a resort. And I don’t know what a cardinal would do in such a resort, which doesn’t boast anything Avignon doesn’t have.
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| Residences inside the abbey walls, Villeneuve-lès-Avignon |
Before we reached the town, however, we encountered the highlight of the day, as a herd of goats (“Alpilles,” closely related to the Alpine goats I once raised), came across the scrub, with their goatherd, a woman dressed as her long-ago predecessors might have dressed, in leather boots and loose cotton clothing the colour of the soil. Her skin, her hair were also the colour of the soil, as were her goats. She was happy to stop and let us pet her animals and answer what questions we could make understood. I didn’t get any great photos of her, unfortunately, but that’s the price of travelling with a group: the group is often in the way of the idyllic fantasy I’d want to photograph. There’s something to be said for honesty in photos, I guess, so I’m able to forgive the presence of orange bikes and white helmets in amongst the more beautiful subjects.
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| Goat herd and alpine goats |
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| An orange blight upon the village square |
We ate our the baguette lunch of the trip in Villeneuve, and explored the abbey and the narrow streets. Then we rolled down the long, winding road towards our home.
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| Goodbye, trusty steed |
Tonight, our last dinner. Tomorrow after breakfast we depart the boat. I'm ready for a rest, but sad to say goodbye to a great trip and a wonderful bunch of people.
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