After a wonderful few days in Pezenas, ambling around the stunning old town, exploring the brocantes and finding some beautiful rides around the area, we had to repack the bags and load the bikes up again to start heading back towards Provence.
We woke to the first really autumnal morning of the year, with the town blurred by mist and the roads damp with mizzle, and yet it was still bizarrely warm.
When we left the town on our ride in June, we had followed the main road out to the motorway junction and weren’t too excited at the prospect of having to do that again, as it had been busy and at rush hour, it wasn’t going to be easy. But as I zoomed in on the map, to finalise the morning’s route, I noticed a little side road, that cut around the edge of the town, meaning that we would only need to cross one main river bridge on the road, before heading into back roads again.
So a new route found, we loaded the bikes, carried them down the three flights of stairs and set off into the gloom. It had been worth that last quick look at the map, as the back road was perfect, slipping under the motorway and taking us through countryside, dripping with moisture, with the mist catching in the trees.
As we emerged onto the main road, to cross the river bridge, I noticed a cycle path, just below the road bridge, which we took, immediately turning off again onto back roads. A perfect start to the day.
Despite the mist, and autumnal feel, it was still incredibly mild and by the time I reached the top of the first hill, I had to stop to take off my jacket, as I was starting to melt, before continuing on, slightly damper, but cooler and able to function.
Passing through villages, I decided that the makers of Fort Boyard and other Crystal Maze type gameshows had missed a trick. Honestly, they needn’t have designed complex puzzles for the teams to negotiate; all they needed to do was to put the teams into the centre of a Herault village that has a complex one way system, and tell them to find their way out. They should have to do it without a map, although if I’m honest, it makes no difference, as even with a map, it’s nigh on impossible!
So after a little cursing, a few detours and a few hills, we dropped down towards Mèze and picked up the cycle path that would take us towards Aigues Mortes.
It’s a great facility here, well made, in good condition and well signed too and when we took a detour to have breakfast in the beautiful village of Bouzigues….
We were able to easily find it again and make our way onto Balaruc des Brains, where a lot of work is ongoing to improve the path and to open up a new off-road section too (along what appears to be an old railway line). It’s so good to see such positive investment in cycling infrastructure taking place
We were pottering along very happily, concentrating on where we were going, to avoid getting lost in Sete again ( as we had in the summer), only to be so focused that we missed the turning to Frontignan and arrived almost in Sete, before we realised our mistake, turning round and retracing our path until we found our way again. Sete really is becoming our nemesis!
Once on the right path, we made good progress, following the route out through Frontignan towards Palavas along a spit of land, where the protected cycle path runs alongside a busy road. It’s not our favourite sort of cycling, but we needed to make ground and this was helping us get back in the time we had available and most importantly it took us alongside Étangs filled with flamingos.
I love a flamingo, I can’t help but think of them being used as croquet mallets by the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland, but that aside, they just make me smile. And I don’t think I’ve seen quite as many in one place as we did on the ride here.
It has to be said there was an early false ‘flamingo’ alarm, when my optimism took over and I thought I’d spotted three, but I was quickly disappointed, when Andy pointed out that they were buoys rather than birds. But it wasn’t long before we found some real ones, sitting and watching them for a while, whilst doing the Lunchtime Update
Dragging ourselves away again, we cycled on, regretting not having picked up something for lunch, at one of the boulangeries we had passed earlier in the day, as by 2pm we were ravenous and getting increasingly frustrated at cycle path signs that took us one way, before disappearing and leaving us struggling to find the route again.
Just before 3, when I was starting to consider taking a bite out of Andy, we passed the back of an Intermarché supermarket, so found a way in and bought the makings for a sandwich, cycling on again and finding a quiet spot, at the junction of canals, to sit and devour a cheese & ham baguette, watching the boats pass by.
Feeling almost human again, we carried on, passing through the bizarre seaside resort of La Grande Motte, which seems to have been based on a 1960s fantasy city from Thunderbirds…
Before arriving in La Grau de Roi, just in time to watch the swing bridge open to allow a trawler to pass through.
From there, it was a short ride up the side of the canal, in the sunshine, to Aigues Mortes for a peaceful evening, enjoying just ambling around the quiet streets and having a nice supper, after riding over 100km on the bikes during the day
Our idea of a peaceful evening disappeared as soon as we cycled round to the main gate to the walled town, as the fair was in town and there was very clearly something major going on, as the normally immaculate streets were covered with confetti and the main square had a stage set up for a band . It was chaos.
Booking into our apartment for the night, we found out that we had arrived during the town’s Fete Votive, ten days of celebration and events involving the local black bulls and Camargue horses. If we were quick, we would even be able to watch the bulls being run through the village streets, with outriders to control them.
Needless to say, we were quickly showered, changed and out of the door to find a place, where we could watch the spectacle take place. After numerous safety announcements in a range of languages, a cannon sounded and the first of the bulls came running down the street towards us, with three horses and their riders keeping it in check.
It was quite a sight, and the sound and speed of the little group passing by, made me very happy to know that it was only one bull at a time, as any more would have been quite terrifying.
One by one, the bulls charged down the street, controlled by the skillful riders on the accompanying horses. We watched them pass, until once again the cannon sounded to mark the end of the spectacle, and the crowds started to slip away.
An amazing end to a long day’s ride, with time for supper, as we were so hungry that we could have eaten a mouldy pig backwards!
Before we would be cycling on again, after a good night’s sleep to really start heading home…
Next stop Saint Rémy de Provence….
Vaucluse Dreamer 