Climbing a hill in the Verdon Canyon.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Photo Album 10: Nice to Avignon
This link sponsored by the French and the English, living together in harmony at last:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=150624&l=9111f&id=805125264
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Nice to Avignon
I figured I better do this now since I only have 28 days left and might not get another chance. Lets see if I can remember what Ive done in the past several weeks...
Ok, first, I got pleasantly stuck in Nice for quite some time. It is a great town, not too big and not to small, with loads of beaches and climbing areas. My time there was a blur of rock climbing, good food and great people. But I didn't just stay in Nice. I borrowed a backpack and took off into The Alps for 4 days with a good friend of mine. We spent our days hiking through the mountains and then camping wherever we found ourselves at dinnertime. It was quite a change of pace from biking, and I have to say I prefer it when my loyal steed is carrying the weight, and not me. Food is heavy.
Aside from some inclement weather (read: strong wind, hail, cold and wet) the trek was spectacular. The mountains remind me of the high alpine in BC, except that whenever you turn a corner you have to navigate through a group of 20 other hikers that have driven up for the day. Cheaters. On our last night in the mountains we had a rather scary and unusual experience. We both woke up to the pounding of hooves outside the tent. Nothing unusual - there are loads of little deer-like creatures called Chamois in them thar hills. I went back to sleep. But was woken again by something banging up against the tent (right by my head) followed by what sounded a good deal like a dog sniffing. Dogs aren't allowed in this area. All of a sudden there was a loud noise at the front of our tent and I realized that something was trying to make off with our bag of food! I hissed and it stopped for a second, but then it started again, louder and more aggressive. Something was definitely trying to rob us of our provisions. Not realizing I could sound so big and mean, I bellowed at our unwelcome guest, my voice echoing off the steep mountainsides all around us. The attempted robbery stopped as quickly as it started and our assailant disappeared without a sound.
It could only have been a wolf. They are rare in The Alps, and I guess we should count ourselves lucky to have been so close to one, but it didn't really feel that way. It took a long time for my heart to slow down enough to go back to sleep. The next morning, one of our boots was missing. Apparently our nocturnal visitor had found the smell of the hiker good enough to eat and had decided to make off with it. Luckily I found the shoe several metres from the tent, because it would've been hard to hike out of the mountains without footwear. Later in the week we would discover that it had been a full moon that night. Not only that, but it was a full eclipse of the full moon. No wonder the wolf was feeling so feisty! Unless it was a werewolf, in which case the theft of fine footwear would start to make a lot more sense!
We hitched a ride all the way into Cannes with the very first car we showed our thumbs to, and spent the afternoon in the film-crazy town before returning to the much more relaxed city of Nice. Several more days of relaxation and good company followed before I again loaded up my bike and, with heavy heart, headed west. I spent the next 4 days riding towards the city of Apt, where I had another place to stay. I was following small inland roads and the heat was nearly unbearable. Going downhill or on the flat ground is ok because the wind of my movement keeps me cool, but going uphill is torture. It gets up to almost 40 degrees and there I am pushing a combined weight of about 150 kg (me+gear+bike) up 11 percent slopes in the hottest part of the day. Whenever it gets to the point where I am about to throw up or pass out I stop in the shade and drink loads of water, also pouring some over my head. Luckily the route I had planned took me past many lakes, so I could occasionally stop and swim.
I have developed an uncanny ability to create routes that take me past the most incredible places. Well, either that or everywhere in southern France is incredible. On the second day out I came to the Verdon Canyon, sold loosely as the grand Canyon of France. I had never been told about this place, I just saw some interesting looking features on my map and decided to go by there, since it was kind of on my way. I was happy I did. It was fantastic and the views were worth every vertical metre it took for me to get there. The valley is extremely steep and high, but narrow, with a silty blue river twisting along its bottom. I made sure to take the scenic route through the canyon, even though it added several hours and many steep roads to my trip. Yet another place to climb. Next time I'm bringing my shoes and a rope, damn the extra weight.
I kept on meandering through the French countryside, sticking to back roads and small villages. Eventually I arrived in Apt: my destination. Well, nearly. Not far from the city is the old farm house belonging to Will and Bea Rae-Smith, who are relatives of my high school friend Dave. Dave and I haven't seen each other in years but, when he saw on the net that I was in France, he gave me their details and I contacted them. Even though they had family visiting, they were happy to host me in their beautiful house in the hills, built before Canada was discovered. As the house was full of relatives, I got to sleep in the treefort, which I haven't done since I was 7 or so. It was fantastic! I stayed on for several days, taking it very easy and getting to know this wonderful family from England. I helped Will in the back yard, made pancakes for everyone, went for a bike ride around the hills, and even accompanied the family on a river walk through a fantastic canyon. And when I say river walk I actually mean walking in a river. Its a great way to keep cool!
However, as my time was running short I had to leave. Packing up my bike once again I headed in the direction of the setting sun, all the way to Avignon, where I am currently couchsurfing. Tomorrow I will change direction and head north, following the Rhone River to Lyon. My date of homeward departure is on the horizon, and fills me with both excitement and apprehension. My adventure is coming to an end, a chapter of challenge and discovery coming to a close. I don't know what I will find upon my return. Have I really changed? Have you? Time will tell, and I am happy to wait. After all, I still have several hundred km to cover. A lot can happen with that much road ahead.
I will see you all soon. Big French love to all of you until then!
Devo
Ok, first, I got pleasantly stuck in Nice for quite some time. It is a great town, not too big and not to small, with loads of beaches and climbing areas. My time there was a blur of rock climbing, good food and great people. But I didn't just stay in Nice. I borrowed a backpack and took off into The Alps for 4 days with a good friend of mine. We spent our days hiking through the mountains and then camping wherever we found ourselves at dinnertime. It was quite a change of pace from biking, and I have to say I prefer it when my loyal steed is carrying the weight, and not me. Food is heavy.
Aside from some inclement weather (read: strong wind, hail, cold and wet) the trek was spectacular. The mountains remind me of the high alpine in BC, except that whenever you turn a corner you have to navigate through a group of 20 other hikers that have driven up for the day. Cheaters. On our last night in the mountains we had a rather scary and unusual experience. We both woke up to the pounding of hooves outside the tent. Nothing unusual - there are loads of little deer-like creatures called Chamois in them thar hills. I went back to sleep. But was woken again by something banging up against the tent (right by my head) followed by what sounded a good deal like a dog sniffing. Dogs aren't allowed in this area. All of a sudden there was a loud noise at the front of our tent and I realized that something was trying to make off with our bag of food! I hissed and it stopped for a second, but then it started again, louder and more aggressive. Something was definitely trying to rob us of our provisions. Not realizing I could sound so big and mean, I bellowed at our unwelcome guest, my voice echoing off the steep mountainsides all around us. The attempted robbery stopped as quickly as it started and our assailant disappeared without a sound.
It could only have been a wolf. They are rare in The Alps, and I guess we should count ourselves lucky to have been so close to one, but it didn't really feel that way. It took a long time for my heart to slow down enough to go back to sleep. The next morning, one of our boots was missing. Apparently our nocturnal visitor had found the smell of the hiker good enough to eat and had decided to make off with it. Luckily I found the shoe several metres from the tent, because it would've been hard to hike out of the mountains without footwear. Later in the week we would discover that it had been a full moon that night. Not only that, but it was a full eclipse of the full moon. No wonder the wolf was feeling so feisty! Unless it was a werewolf, in which case the theft of fine footwear would start to make a lot more sense!
We hitched a ride all the way into Cannes with the very first car we showed our thumbs to, and spent the afternoon in the film-crazy town before returning to the much more relaxed city of Nice. Several more days of relaxation and good company followed before I again loaded up my bike and, with heavy heart, headed west. I spent the next 4 days riding towards the city of Apt, where I had another place to stay. I was following small inland roads and the heat was nearly unbearable. Going downhill or on the flat ground is ok because the wind of my movement keeps me cool, but going uphill is torture. It gets up to almost 40 degrees and there I am pushing a combined weight of about 150 kg (me+gear+bike) up 11 percent slopes in the hottest part of the day. Whenever it gets to the point where I am about to throw up or pass out I stop in the shade and drink loads of water, also pouring some over my head. Luckily the route I had planned took me past many lakes, so I could occasionally stop and swim.
I have developed an uncanny ability to create routes that take me past the most incredible places. Well, either that or everywhere in southern France is incredible. On the second day out I came to the Verdon Canyon, sold loosely as the grand Canyon of France. I had never been told about this place, I just saw some interesting looking features on my map and decided to go by there, since it was kind of on my way. I was happy I did. It was fantastic and the views were worth every vertical metre it took for me to get there. The valley is extremely steep and high, but narrow, with a silty blue river twisting along its bottom. I made sure to take the scenic route through the canyon, even though it added several hours and many steep roads to my trip. Yet another place to climb. Next time I'm bringing my shoes and a rope, damn the extra weight.
I kept on meandering through the French countryside, sticking to back roads and small villages. Eventually I arrived in Apt: my destination. Well, nearly. Not far from the city is the old farm house belonging to Will and Bea Rae-Smith, who are relatives of my high school friend Dave. Dave and I haven't seen each other in years but, when he saw on the net that I was in France, he gave me their details and I contacted them. Even though they had family visiting, they were happy to host me in their beautiful house in the hills, built before Canada was discovered. As the house was full of relatives, I got to sleep in the treefort, which I haven't done since I was 7 or so. It was fantastic! I stayed on for several days, taking it very easy and getting to know this wonderful family from England. I helped Will in the back yard, made pancakes for everyone, went for a bike ride around the hills, and even accompanied the family on a river walk through a fantastic canyon. And when I say river walk I actually mean walking in a river. Its a great way to keep cool!
However, as my time was running short I had to leave. Packing up my bike once again I headed in the direction of the setting sun, all the way to Avignon, where I am currently couchsurfing. Tomorrow I will change direction and head north, following the Rhone River to Lyon. My date of homeward departure is on the horizon, and fills me with both excitement and apprehension. My adventure is coming to an end, a chapter of challenge and discovery coming to a close. I don't know what I will find upon my return. Have I really changed? Have you? Time will tell, and I am happy to wait. After all, I still have several hundred km to cover. A lot can happen with that much road ahead.
I will see you all soon. Big French love to all of you until then!
Devo
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Photo Album 9: Torino to Nice
This link sponsored by crowded beaches and lonely forests:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=144210&l=9caec&id=805125264
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Torino to Nice
I did it! I survived the tour of the Alps!
I switched my plans around at the last minute in Torino and decided to head south towards Nice. I arranged couchsurfing for several nights along my path and then headed off towards the mountains. After riding through the Italian countryside, my first stop was the eensy-weensy town of Dronero. I was the first foreign couchsurfer to visit Dronero, and everyone asked me: "why?" but I was happy to be there. It is a beautiful small town, and I rode around it on my bike. On my second day there I woke up feeling kinda crumby and low. I oozed around the apartment for a while before realizing I had to do something to kick my mood. So I begrudgingly put on my riding shoes and headed out into the village. I rode around in circles, deliberately getting lost to see what I might find. I ended up finding a small winding road up a mountainside. I thought I would take it only far enough to obtain a picture of the town from above, but I kind of ended up going all the way to the top. On a sopping little dirt track. In the rain. And a lighting storm. There is nothing quite like reaching the top of a soggy mountain on your touring bike in a lightning storm to kick a crappy mood. After ascending for an hour and a half, I descended in about 10 minutes.
The next day I headed out to attack the real hill in my way: the Alps. I hooked onto a road that went to the town of Limone, which is famous for its skiing. The grade was good and the going wasn't too tough. This was to be my first time actually crossing the Alps, but I had actually been riding through them since Vicenza. I guess that's what all those hills were. Anyway, my legs were prepared. Except for one thing: at the top of the road was a 3 km long single lane tunnel, impossible for bikes to go through. To attempt it would have been to ask to get smooshed under a really big truck. So instead I opted for Door #2: over the top. I rode right into the ski village and then started to ascend the service road. I counted 15 switchbacks, each of them steep and almost 1 km long. It was stupid hot out and I got many looks of wonder from people passing in their cars. But I made it, after many stops for water in the shade. At the top was a little restaurant. You can buy good coffee even on top of a mountain in Europe. All in all I ascended about 1.5 vertical km in a day. My ears popped.
And then I was in France. Just like that. A winding dirt track wound its way down the other side of the mountain like a very well done spaghetti noodle stuck to the fridge. I went back and forth, back and forth, my breaks squealing at every 359 degree corner. As always, going down took a fraction of the time of going up. Then I got onto the main road and really turned on the juice, riding in the lane of traffic to maintain my status as a legitimate vehicle. That night I found respite in the home of a lovely french family deep in the Alps. They fed my, gave me a comfy bed, and even provided me with maps for all of France to help me on my way. Couchsurfing strikes again!
Then something surprising happened. A friend from couchsurfing sent me an email and told me that she was traveling close by with her Slovenian family. They were on a vacation through the south of France to celebrate the dads birthday, and they decided to come and pick me up! So the next day I rode my bike to meet them and the next thing I knew I was packed into a rented caravan traveling with a new family! Life never ceases to take me in new and unexpected directions!
Travel by car is... surprise, surprise... much faster than by bike and we covered hundreds of km in a matter of hours. Wow. We stopped in Cannes for a look around before heading on to Aix-en-Provence for the evening. Beautiful towns with an adopted family! We spent the night in a truckstop on the side of the highway. The next day we drove down to the small town of Cassis, near Marseilles. I have realized many advantages to traveling by bike, the best of which is not having to find parking. And being able to travel anywhere. And not stopping at gas stations or paying at the tolls. Amongst many others.
I decided to get left behind in Cassis as the others took the caravan to Marseilles. I went for another ride up the biggest hill I could find, which afforded me some amazing views. The next day I headed East, towards Nice. Its funny how things work out, I thought I would be riding west along this road, but east was just as good. Right away I chose the road less traveled and found myself heading through the forests away from the coast. I turned off onto a paved forestry road. Half way up the steep hill I came to a gate, notifying travelers that the road was closed to reduce the risk of forest fires in the dry heat. If they had put the gate at the bottom of the hill I might have obeyed the sign, but since I had already invested so much in the ascent I ignored it completely and pushed my bike around the barrier. And then I found myself completely alone. It was wonderful, riding in complete silence and stillness except for birds, crickets and the wind. Of course I was careful not to start any forest fires.
I eventually came back into civilization and, while trying to stop for a picture, fell over sideways with my foot still in the clip and swore loudly in French. I got up and made my way through the cities of Southern France. After being in real wilderness, it was a shock to all of a sudden find myself in what looked very much like Hollywood. I kept going, moving again with the traffic. I eventually turned off again onto another secondary road and found myself in wine country on a peninsula tipped with a castle encrusted island. I made dinner on the beach and went for a swim. Then I rode around until I found a silent place in a farmers field and set up my tent. I am a travel ninja.
The following day was my longest ever (136), but I couldnt stop - there was too much to see around every corner. I passed through St Tropez and Cannes, following an abandoned railroad that I came across accidentally. The track was rough, but there were no cars and it followed the cliffs above the Cote d'Azur. I kept on and on, eating breakfast, lunch (twice) and dinner on the road. It would take another entry to describe what I saw and did, how it felt, but I dont have time for that. Check the pictures for some of the views.
I made it almost all of the way to Nice that night, finally stopping exactly 12 hours after I had left that morning. The 5th campsite I checked wasnt full and I finally laid down to sleep. But by early the next morning I was in Nice, finding my way to my CS host. Ever since I have been "stuck" here, not really wanting to move. They have roughly 340 days of sun here, so that doesnt leave a lot of room for rain. Every day is a beach day. My CS host showed me some climbing rocks above deep water and lent me a pair of shoes. Every day I go to my playground, along with other CSers staying here, and boulder until I fall off while others jump off the rocks or just soak up sun. Gab, the Québécois guy staying at the same place as me keeps saying "Pas facile, la vie!", roughly translating to "life is hard". And it sure is.
But in a few minutes I am leaving the hard life and heading back into the mountains. I didnt get quite enough of them on my first pass through, and I need to go back for more. I am borrowing a backpack and leaving my bike behind in favour of plain old feet. I will hike through the mountains and camp in the trees. And then I will come back to my trusted steed and head west, as I had originally intended. But for every plan there is a detour, and you will just have to wait until my next entry to see what I really do!
Bonne chance mon ami!
d
I switched my plans around at the last minute in Torino and decided to head south towards Nice. I arranged couchsurfing for several nights along my path and then headed off towards the mountains. After riding through the Italian countryside, my first stop was the eensy-weensy town of Dronero. I was the first foreign couchsurfer to visit Dronero, and everyone asked me: "why?" but I was happy to be there. It is a beautiful small town, and I rode around it on my bike. On my second day there I woke up feeling kinda crumby and low. I oozed around the apartment for a while before realizing I had to do something to kick my mood. So I begrudgingly put on my riding shoes and headed out into the village. I rode around in circles, deliberately getting lost to see what I might find. I ended up finding a small winding road up a mountainside. I thought I would take it only far enough to obtain a picture of the town from above, but I kind of ended up going all the way to the top. On a sopping little dirt track. In the rain. And a lighting storm. There is nothing quite like reaching the top of a soggy mountain on your touring bike in a lightning storm to kick a crappy mood. After ascending for an hour and a half, I descended in about 10 minutes.
The next day I headed out to attack the real hill in my way: the Alps. I hooked onto a road that went to the town of Limone, which is famous for its skiing. The grade was good and the going wasn't too tough. This was to be my first time actually crossing the Alps, but I had actually been riding through them since Vicenza. I guess that's what all those hills were. Anyway, my legs were prepared. Except for one thing: at the top of the road was a 3 km long single lane tunnel, impossible for bikes to go through. To attempt it would have been to ask to get smooshed under a really big truck. So instead I opted for Door #2: over the top. I rode right into the ski village and then started to ascend the service road. I counted 15 switchbacks, each of them steep and almost 1 km long. It was stupid hot out and I got many looks of wonder from people passing in their cars. But I made it, after many stops for water in the shade. At the top was a little restaurant. You can buy good coffee even on top of a mountain in Europe. All in all I ascended about 1.5 vertical km in a day. My ears popped.
And then I was in France. Just like that. A winding dirt track wound its way down the other side of the mountain like a very well done spaghetti noodle stuck to the fridge. I went back and forth, back and forth, my breaks squealing at every 359 degree corner. As always, going down took a fraction of the time of going up. Then I got onto the main road and really turned on the juice, riding in the lane of traffic to maintain my status as a legitimate vehicle. That night I found respite in the home of a lovely french family deep in the Alps. They fed my, gave me a comfy bed, and even provided me with maps for all of France to help me on my way. Couchsurfing strikes again!
Then something surprising happened. A friend from couchsurfing sent me an email and told me that she was traveling close by with her Slovenian family. They were on a vacation through the south of France to celebrate the dads birthday, and they decided to come and pick me up! So the next day I rode my bike to meet them and the next thing I knew I was packed into a rented caravan traveling with a new family! Life never ceases to take me in new and unexpected directions!
Travel by car is... surprise, surprise... much faster than by bike and we covered hundreds of km in a matter of hours. Wow. We stopped in Cannes for a look around before heading on to Aix-en-Provence for the evening. Beautiful towns with an adopted family! We spent the night in a truckstop on the side of the highway. The next day we drove down to the small town of Cassis, near Marseilles. I have realized many advantages to traveling by bike, the best of which is not having to find parking. And being able to travel anywhere. And not stopping at gas stations or paying at the tolls. Amongst many others.
I decided to get left behind in Cassis as the others took the caravan to Marseilles. I went for another ride up the biggest hill I could find, which afforded me some amazing views. The next day I headed East, towards Nice. Its funny how things work out, I thought I would be riding west along this road, but east was just as good. Right away I chose the road less traveled and found myself heading through the forests away from the coast. I turned off onto a paved forestry road. Half way up the steep hill I came to a gate, notifying travelers that the road was closed to reduce the risk of forest fires in the dry heat. If they had put the gate at the bottom of the hill I might have obeyed the sign, but since I had already invested so much in the ascent I ignored it completely and pushed my bike around the barrier. And then I found myself completely alone. It was wonderful, riding in complete silence and stillness except for birds, crickets and the wind. Of course I was careful not to start any forest fires.
I eventually came back into civilization and, while trying to stop for a picture, fell over sideways with my foot still in the clip and swore loudly in French. I got up and made my way through the cities of Southern France. After being in real wilderness, it was a shock to all of a sudden find myself in what looked very much like Hollywood. I kept going, moving again with the traffic. I eventually turned off again onto another secondary road and found myself in wine country on a peninsula tipped with a castle encrusted island. I made dinner on the beach and went for a swim. Then I rode around until I found a silent place in a farmers field and set up my tent. I am a travel ninja.
The following day was my longest ever (136), but I couldnt stop - there was too much to see around every corner. I passed through St Tropez and Cannes, following an abandoned railroad that I came across accidentally. The track was rough, but there were no cars and it followed the cliffs above the Cote d'Azur. I kept on and on, eating breakfast, lunch (twice) and dinner on the road. It would take another entry to describe what I saw and did, how it felt, but I dont have time for that. Check the pictures for some of the views.
I made it almost all of the way to Nice that night, finally stopping exactly 12 hours after I had left that morning. The 5th campsite I checked wasnt full and I finally laid down to sleep. But by early the next morning I was in Nice, finding my way to my CS host. Ever since I have been "stuck" here, not really wanting to move. They have roughly 340 days of sun here, so that doesnt leave a lot of room for rain. Every day is a beach day. My CS host showed me some climbing rocks above deep water and lent me a pair of shoes. Every day I go to my playground, along with other CSers staying here, and boulder until I fall off while others jump off the rocks or just soak up sun. Gab, the Québécois guy staying at the same place as me keeps saying "Pas facile, la vie!", roughly translating to "life is hard". And it sure is.
But in a few minutes I am leaving the hard life and heading back into the mountains. I didnt get quite enough of them on my first pass through, and I need to go back for more. I am borrowing a backpack and leaving my bike behind in favour of plain old feet. I will hike through the mountains and camp in the trees. And then I will come back to my trusted steed and head west, as I had originally intended. But for every plan there is a detour, and you will just have to wait until my next entry to see what I really do!
Bonne chance mon ami!
d
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