Sept. 1 And the newspaper announced that: le mistral a cesse! Gone, and the day was clear, crisp and windless. R and I took a most wonderful 50 miler, on backroads wherever possible. First over the (small) mountain and down through lovely countryside first to Arles, where we had something to eat, then on to towns north, staying as close to the Rhone as possible, and then a circle back to St. Remy. On the way to Arles we saw the remnants of a Roman aqueduct. One of my favorite views: in the midst of tomato fields, several large yellow metal tanks (similar to huge dumpsters) piled HIGH with tomatoes. An hour later, we saw two trucks with two similar (the same ones?) containers hauling tomatoes in different directions. At the end of the ride, a very small road along vineyards, orchards and farms. A field of bright begonias in front of an olive oil place, and a field of thyme plants. I had to get off the bike and walk over to actually see what they were. Herbes de Provence!

Last day of August, writing this as Bruce and Jane attempt a relentless, torturous climb of 21K up Mont Ventoux, one of the famous climbs on the Tour de France, which the Kenamores watch every year. R and I wouldn't even try it on the tandem. On the Michelin map, it is a "two arrow" climb, meaning grades between 9 and 13%. We have just finished a picnic lunch and are parked at the side of the road, sagging both of them. BTW Bruce's bike was fixed in 10 minutes today at the bike shop in town; all it needed was a bolt to replace one that loosened and fell off.
At 5K Bruce went by, and offloaded half of what he was carrying. The grade at this point is 10%. Some time later, Jane also came by - impressive - and kept on going also. But we have parked a few K ahead wondering if she will want to continue. It's brutal. There are lots of people climbing, but most are young guys with thighs and buns of steel. Except for one old guy pedaling along at a leisurely pace, no helmet, no special clothes, and a big green Pelligreno bottle for water. He looked like he was out for an evening stroll!

While we're waiting: (Sing Along Now): These are a few of our favorite things. We were discussing the other day what were the most useful things we have brought on this trip. We are going to line them all up on a table and take a picture. But at the top of the list is Robb's Michelin map for France. The damn thing weighs about 10 lbs. but he insisted on bringing it. He carries it in his backpack, along with the camera, our Rough Guide (which weighs about 5 pounds), our little notebook computer (my favorite thing), cords, adapters and other electronic junk, IPod Touch and teensy speaker (OUR favorite thing because we play music every night getting ready for bed), hard cover books. Hefting it out of the back seat the other day, Bruce asked why Robb had brought a couple of bowling balls. Crazy man! But hey, he not only carries that, but both of our suitcases at the same time. This leaves me carrying only my small, light day pack and tiny purse, which my back definitely appreciates. Other favorite things include a pack of lense wipes for glasses and camera lens, and small envelope packs of sunscreen.

We have returned in a sense of victory. Bruce accomplished that incredible climb, all 21K and 5,288 feet of it; Jane did 15K, and two-thirds that distance, a fabulous accomplishment. 360 degree views from the completely naked 6000' top of Mont Ventour are jaw-dropping, including a vista in the far distance of Mont Blanc and the rest of the Alps. The sky was crystal clear and the distant views a hazy blue. The area below the mountain itself is full of vineyards and signs everywhere for wine tastings, vegetable and fruit markets, country gites and other hotels d'hote. A tourist's dream! Bruce will probably hurt tonight from leg cramps, but he's got to be revelling in the fact that not many 72 year olds would be able to even attempt this climb; same goes for Jane. Hooray for them! And hooray for Robb for doing all the driving! Robb's haiku for Bruce's accomplishment:

The most miserable climb:
Mont Ventoux at 72!
Hurray for Bruce!

August 30 (I think) San Remy de Provence. (If you've ever travelled, you know how you lose track of dates, days...)

We arrived here two nights ago after a beautiful drive, with the exception of the traffic jams in and around Montpellier on our way to Provence. We took national highways - fast roads - by choice and enjoyed expansive vistas capped by a sky of gray and white puffy clouds. Weather was slowly clearing as we moved south and then east, and as we moved into Provence, it cleared and a big wind picked up, the famous Mistral. Hordes of cars and campers, presumably returning to Paris from vacation, passed us the other way.

Near St. Fleur we took a short detour to admire a beautiful railroad bridge (Viaduc de Garabit) designed by the famous Gustave Eiffel. Built in 1884 it has been in continuous use, and in recent years was repainted dark red. A beautiful structure comprised of several supporting "towers" and one graceful arched support, it spans the gorge of the Truyere river. We took way too many photos! At lunchtime we took another detour to admire the notable bridge at Millau (Grand Viaduc de Millau) built in 2004, 2.5K in length spanning the Gorges du Tarn, a white bridge with seven enormous pillars that make the brdge taller than the Eiffel Tower. Our guidebook notes that one of the construction companies involved links back to Mons. Eiffel.

After an exasperating (and only partially satisfying) search for a picnic spot in Millau, we headed for San Remy, where we hoped to find bike maps, and since it was Saturday night, had to settle for a dreary two-star hotel. We all agreed that it was not up to standards; Robb had to contend with a broken showerhead that could spray his side and raised arm simultaneously. Once settled, the Ks immediately headed up the street to find a better place for the next few nights, and we are now installed in a beautiful hotel with fine rooms (and bathrooms!) and a beautiful patio as well.

Yesterday, we headed out on a 42K bike route labeled "hard" on our rudimentary map. The Mistral is blowing hard! It's a beautiful wind, and it appears to have brought the beginnings of Fall. The air is super clear, and it's crisp in the mornings. It was warm last night, but there is none of the heat for which Provence is famous in summer. The Mistral really blows hard. I noticed right away that farmers have planted serious windbreaks of cedars and other substantial shrubs and trees around fields and gardens. This commonly includes a very tall sort of plant that resembles sugar cane, but with much thinner, woody stems. The mistral is a very dry wind: it brings clear weather, and clear air, down from the north. But it will make short work of tender plants and young trees, I am sure! It is very dry here (feels definitely Mediterranean) and there are fire warnings in the forests. As we ate our picnic at the abbey (continue below), several fire engines drove through and as we rode through the forest on our way out, we saw them all gathered there, perhaps strategizing fire control methods or perhaps simply stationed there in case of fire.

We cycled past orchards loaded with pears and apples, olive groves, fields of sunflowers, sorghum, pumpkins, lavender, vegetables, and unknown crops. Old abandoned orchards make me wince; trees with more fruit than leaves seem to be calling out ":Pick me!" We eventually came upon the "difficult" part: of our route, a climb up to a 19th century abbey - short and a little steep through very dry, stony forest. The abbey was impressive but better yet, there was a special mass going on, so we got to see the church lit up and in use. I loved the interior: heavy and colorful stenciling on the walls and columns and gold stars on a dark blue background up high. After a picnic lunch, it was a nice long glide downhill, and then we circled back into a little town where a local festival of some sort was going on. Women wore beautiful long dresses with lace detailing, and their hair was arranged with a knot on the top wrapped in fabric matching their dresses - very elegant! Then we noticed a huge old ruin of a castle far above! We climbed up to the entrance, but it was barred by a wrought iron fence and dire notices about safety, etc. A woman in town told us it was 12th century! On our way through town, we came upon a square filled with people sitting at tables eating lunch, and a local band in traditional dress playing traditional music. Great! I would have stayed longer but the others wanted to move on..

Next: biking adventure! Cycling with the wind (nice) into Tarascon, Bruce's bike broke down! The ring nut (gizmo on the back wheel that holds all the sprockets on) came loose. This is a very serious problem. We thought perhaps a spacer between two of the rings had somehow fallen off. Nice young guy pulled his little red car over and came to see what was wrong. He immediately grasped the situation (without any translation) and went running off around a corner, coming back with a handful of those tough plastic fasteners that make it impossible to open things - and a small roll of electrical tape. Where in the world he got these, I have no idea! This town was DEAD in the extreme (Sunday afternoon, you know)! We thanked him profusely and he drove off. The guys then attached two fasteners together (a single one was too short), threaded it between the two chain rings, pulled it tight and cut it off with a pocket knife. It seemed to be the correct width, but it just didn't work. The bike was just unrideable. The bike shop in town was, of course, closed, so there was nothing for it but to leave Bruce in a park while we, with Jane, rode back to get the car. An hour-plus later, Robb drove back and retrieved Bruce and the bike.

Next day: No luck finding an open bike shop; it's Monday, after all! While Bruce stayed in town, Jane, Robb and I took off in a strong wind toward Avignon, a short ride as the crow flies, but no self-respecting crow would have tried to fly in this wind! Avignon proved to be just as my Rough Guide described: a traffic hell! A little travelled road through orchards, farms, gardens and vineyards sadly ended at a main road into Avignon, a hellishly noisy, crowded road over a bridge and into, eventually, the old walled city. It was a hugely unpleasant ride, which luckily we accomplished well enough. At the city wall, we walked our bikes up into old Avignon, landing in a main square for a drink and a treat. It was good people watching, for sure, but soon enough we decided we had to start back. In an attempt to bypass that lousy main road for at least a little while, we got out of the old city and took an alternate road. But we soon found ourselves lost in what was clearly a housing complex, and none too savory looking either. At a small intersection, a couple of hostile young drivers zoomed around us, and the mirror of one of their cars grazed Jane! Luckily she remained calm, but we all realized that our search for an alternate was futile so made our way back to the traffic clogged Road from Hell, over the bridge, and at last back on to our former route. Or so we thought! Here again we got plenty lost (albeit in that pleasant agricultural area) and finally came out on, to our disgust, a busy road. We had no choice but to take it. Here, Robb's good map sense took us in the right direction (I was sure we were going the wrong way!), and finally, we ended up on the right road back to St. Remy.

All of us are pretty good map readers. But Robb has a particlularly good ability to pick the correct of several paths. Maybe it's his engineering sense. He's often right when things become confusing. French roads are well signed, except when they're not, which is especially true in the center of cities. We sometimes end up going around and around traffic circles (which are legion!) trying to spot the sign we're looking for, one or more of us yelling: "Go around again!". We sometimes take the wrong route, swooping down into unknown territory and trying to find a place to turn The Beast around. But most of the time, we somehow make it to our destination without horrible mix-ups.

To end this interesting day, we splurged on a recommended restaurant (Le Grain du Sel: Grain of Salt) where we all ordered a very special and unique menu comprised of a large, very elegant assortment of some 10 different dishes, in very small but not miniscule portions. Bruce thought the food was too fancy and rich for his taste, but the rest of us enjoyed it greatly. It was very well prepared, beautiful, and extremely tasty; Robb called it gournet. And Jane and I shared a half bottle of red wine from a vineyard around the corner, and that, we all agreed, was superb! We are not foodies, but I think a lot of tourists in Provence are, and this place was full last night!

It's cooler tonight and the wind is still fierce. Big gusts hit us on our walk back to the hotel.