The next leg of Gloria’s Grand Tour is a gentle “potter” along the South of France and, having read A Year in Provence’ many years ago, I couldn’t resist a swerve in to visit Aix-en-Provence.

Biking along the main pedestrianised boulevard, with people spilling out of cafés and restaurants on either side, it was hard to contemplate that we are still midst world-wide pandemic – although, I must say that all countries I have visited so far have been rigorous with their Covid prevention discipline. Equally, I feel very safe and secure in Gloria who has proved to be a godsend, as I can
still travel, but in a very self-sufficient manner, like a snail with my house on my back! 🐌 (Sorry Glo, you’ve been referred to as a hippo 🦛 too, as you’re such a big unit, but you are still a beauty!). Anyway, I digress – back to Provence where it would be a big omission not to partake in a little winetasting. Gloria wasn’t interested, being that she’s a “diesel only” kinda gal, so she got parked up at the first vineyard, where I switched onto the bike in search of some decent “girl petrol” aka rosé (see previous post). My expectation was to be cycling through endless grapevines to find small growers who would allow me to sample ample quantities of delicious wine along with their olive oils and lavender essences, all whilst chatting to the assistant and other visitors. The reality? Mask on at all times except when ‘tasting’, only one group at a time creating a long queue, no olive oil to taste and mask-police very strict even when I tried to smell the lavender!

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Oh well, not an entire disaster, as I did get to buy a very nice bottle of the Provençal pink stuff and – the best part – on the cycle ride back to the first château, managed to seek out a track into an olive grove where I could spend the night. Yes, probably not technically legal, so all you fellow motorhomers out there please don’t judge, but just completely irresistible and one of my most spectacular wild camping spots yet, right at the foot of a large escarpment. The slight anxiety that I might be asked to move on by the farmer (of whom, not a sign) was certainly worth the peace & solitude and especially the hike up the slope the following morning.

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Next stop was the moon…..or what it could look like, as I found a camp spot right on the water’s edge near the large salt flats of The Camargue, an area better known for its white horses (none spotted – apparently a bit of a touristic ruse now)

The vibrant pink salt lakes produce over 500,000 tons of salt every year and there’s a reason why the salt dries out here……it’s baking hot! 🔥 So, onto the bike I jumped to cycle through the strange lunar landscape in search of the beach and what a disappointment that turned out to be, jam- packed with hordes of people and barely a space to walk. I made a quick U turn and biked back up the river and found a tranquil spot by the River Rhone with not a soul around – how much better and thank goodness everyone else doesn’t like to be “off the beaten track” like me…… especially as I was able to wash my hair with no one else looking! Refreshed and clean, I celebrated by getting the barbecue out and enjoyed writing my blog watching the sun going down.

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Just north of the salt flats is the old medieval town of Arles, full of Roman ruins and picturesque spots that are like a magnet to famous painters. It turns out that Vincent van Gogh spent 14 months here back in 1888/9 and in that time he completed 300 paintings – the guy was prolific!. Not being your typical tourist, I didn’t fancy signing up for the Segway tour, but instead enjoyed a couple of hours completing my own treasure hunt by bike, trying to find the 10 paintings that have been put in spots where he regularly painted around the city. (Okay, so sometimes cheating when I spotted the Segways homing in on one!). In the process, I took in most of the extremely impressive Roman ruins……just my kind of sightseeing!

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I was parked up by the motorway for this visit, not a good place for the night, so headed off towards the beach – this turned out to almost be a complete disaster as obviously the Covid message hasn’t reached these parts and I have never seen more people or cars near the beach, even at 9pm. I tried a few different campspots but they were all busy and so was very relieved to finally find an Aire next to another (full) campsite. (Aires are provided by towns all over Europe for motorhomes, normally for a fraction of the cost of a campsite). After my big bike ride the following day, I returned to hear constant “party games” over the PA system…..confirming my original thoughts that campsites are definitely not for me – yuk! And the big bike ride? Around a lake full of a multitude of different birds, the surprising ones being the flamingos (yes, flamingos…..there was me thinking that they were for exotic climes only??!) and on to Montpellier.

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This has definitely been another standout European city for me and one to which I’d love to return sometime; it is full of narrow streets with atmospheric cafés and frescos on the buildings, along with architecture that rivals that of Paris- in fact, cycling through the “Arc du Triomphe” I did feel as though the Eiffel Tower could come into view at any moment!

The standout moment of the visit to Montpellier resulted after cycling through a narrow uphill street, changing gear and getting that sinking feeling, knowing that the chain has come off. This has happened a few times on Scottie (Emma’s bike), but could always be solved – however, this time, after lots of tugging and even releasing the entire back wheel, it could not be budged. You would have thought that a maiden in distress with black oil all over her hands would have elicited more help, but everyone walked on by……until, finally, a French man start talking to me. Was this my knight in shining armour? No, it was just someone who told me (in perfect English…..I must improve my French!) that there was a bike shop just around the corner. Only I could break down and find that less than 20m away was Tall Bike Guy who really knew his stuff and straight away whisked Scottie onto his rack for diagnosis. Judging by the fact that all the cogs were on the floor, I ascertained that this was something that I could not have done myself! Tall Bike Guy was so nice and helpful, telling my all about the big bide ride that he was about to do to Britanny, sleeping in a hammock enroute (and I thought I was mad!) – it only took about 20 minutes to fix, but I could have sat and watched him fix it all afternoon!!!

Onwards to Frontignan – my reason for stopping here was to try and book up some kitesurfing lessons, but the forecast is for light slack winds for the week and this, along with the sea fog and more horrendously busy beaches (think Margate on steroids!), helped me decide to break camp and move on again. Shame, as I had been asked out for a drink with the nice Kite Surf instructor that evening!! However, the village that I moved to (Bouzigues) was in the sun and absolutely gorgeous, being right on the shores of all the oyster and mussel ‘tables’. I am happily enjoying this trip solo, but drew the line at sampling the local oysters that were available for degustation everywhere. Hmmm…..maybe I should have called Kite Surf Guy to join me??!!

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• Thoughts so far:
• Vincent van Gogh only sold one painting in his life and painted his most famous one (Starry Night) in an insane asylum. Also, he only cut off his lobe, not his whole ear!
• Camargue horses are used to herd bulls that are raised here for bullfighting
• A flock of flamingos is called a flamboyance!
• The University of Montpellier is one of the oldest in the world (and WHAT a city to be a student!)
• The absence of tides in the Med mean that coquillage (shellfish) can be farmed on large ‘tables’
• It appears that bullfighting is still ongoing here – the only thing stopping it is Covid-19!