Vaucluse Dreamer

After the excitement of arriving in Aigues Mortes, during its Fete Votive, and the sight of the bulls and horses charging through the streets, we woke early the next morning and packed the bikes again, for the ride from the village to the beautiful small town of Saint Rémy de Provence.

On the ride through to Aigues Mortes from Pezenas, we really hadn’t managed to eat properly, and I had been so hungry that it had affected me for the rest of the day. So, the first stop of the day was the Boulangerie, just opposite where we had stayed, and we wolfed down a pain au raisin, before even leaving the village.

Once again, it really felt as if autumn was doing her best to take a grip of the day, with mist rising from the waterways and clouds settling in the trees, as we cycled out into the Camargue.

The first couple of kilometres takes us along a peaceful lane, which runs alongside a little ‘canal’ and all that we had for company were the birds and the occasional plop, as an unseen creature slipped into the water, as we passed.

At one point, a white horse that was grazing in a field, trotted over to see who was disturbing it’s morning and I stopped to give it a gentle scratch, as it popped its head over the fence to say hello.

Unfortunately, this quiet lane soon comes to an end and it joins a main road that cuts through the Camargue towards Saintes Maries de la Mer and Arles. Normally, we would avoid roads like this, but there are very few little back-roads here, due to the network of waterways, so we have no option but to put our heads down and pedal, until we can shoot off to where we need to go. Happily, although the road is busy, it does have a very wide shoulder, which allowed us to cycle with a little more security, than if we had been in the main carriageway.

After a few kilometres though, we reached a roundabout, turning left towards Saint Gilles, whilst the majority of the traffic continued on the main road. Almost immediately you could see our shoulders relax, our legs slow and hear our conversation start again, as we left the cars behind and rejoined the birds.

It was then a beautiful ride through the Petit Camargue, cycling alongside the canals (ditches) that in places were filled with yellow flowers floating across the surface, with the occasional shrill cry of a Kingfisher darting across the water.

In the summer, when we had cycled through, we passed Glossy Ibises in the rice fields, but they had disappeared, along with the Storks, as we saw one abandoned nest precariously balanced on top of a telegraph pole.

It was a wonderfully peaceful ride through, all the way to Saint Gilles, where we stopped for coffee and munched the rest of the croissants that we had bought before leaving Aigues Mortes.

From Saint Gilles, we set off towards Arles, crossing the Petit Rhone, where I felt my emotions rise again and tears prick my eyes. In the summer this had been such a momentous point in the ride (entering Provence) that I had burst into totally unexpected tears and had to pull off the road until I had recovered enough to continue. I was more composed this time, but still felt the hairs on my arms stand up, as I crossed and didn’t dare speak for a moment as I felt the words would catch in my throat.

Shortly after the bridge, we follow another back road, which amazingly takes us to the edge of Arles, without having to deal with any traffic. It’s a perfect ride in, passing through pomegranate orchards and bringing us into the city across an old bridge. We hopped off the bikes and pushed them into the heart of the old city, where we found a bench by the obelisk outside the Hotel de Ville and watched the world pass by for an hour.

It was a very gentle and very lovely place to sit and without doubt, we will return to the city and visit the sights in the near future. I’ve seen some of them during A Day out in Arles with friends, but Andy has yet to visit properly. So that’s something else for the list.

However lovely it was, we couldn’t sit all day, so we hopped back on the bikes and cycled out, past the remnants of some of the Roman aqueducts that fed and powered the city, before taking the route we had found towards Les Baux de Provence and on to Saint Remy.

Pottering along, we passed through Barbegal, and it’s incredible chateau, seeing more of the Roman aqueducts, running towards it. We learned that these were once part of a double system that fed 16 waterwheels, which powered 8 mills here. For 2 centuries these milled sufficient flour (4.5 tonnes per day) to provide bread for the 12500 residents of the city of Arles at the time, which was quite an amazing feat.

Dragging ourselves away, we continued on, passing through Paradou, before climbing up towards the rocky promontory, on the southern edge of the Alpilles, that is home to the village of Les Baux de Provence.

From every angle, this is an amazing village, but instead of cycling in, we continued on, passing the Carrières de Baux and taking the narrow twisting road that cuts across the hills to Saint Remy.

A little way up that road is a layby that offers an incredible view, back across to Les Baux, with glimpses towards Marseille, and deep into The Camargue. We stopped here and did a little Lunchtime Update and I could have happily laid out in the rocks, in the warm afternoon sun and dozed for a while.

But Saint Remy was calling, so we pedalled on, until the road slipped away below us and we swooped down, through the bends towards our stop for the night, arriving just in time for a refreshing drink, before heading to our room for the night.

It was hard to believe that this was the last night of the ride. The week had passed far too quickly and just one more day & we would be home.

We spent the evening ambling around the beautiful old town, before having probably (no, definitely) the worst pizza I have ever tried to eat in my life and collapsed into bed, ready for the last short hop home, already starting to think about what our next adventure could be.

We really could get used to this!