The Trail's Our Thing

Today was a very complicated travel day. I spent more time planning and fretting over the details of today’s transportation than I spent planning the entire rest of our trip!

The walking tour company provides a free shuttle back to Shannon Airport on Saturday mornings, but we didn’t think the shuttle would get us to the airport early enough to check-in for our Ryanair flight to France. After considering numerous possibilities, I finally decided to rent a car in Killarney for the drive to Shannon. We left our guesthouse in Killarney at 7:15 am, and the trip to Shannon took us about two hours. Charley quickly refreshed himself on how to drive on the other side of the road. We queued up at the Ryanair counter two hours before flight time and checked in numbers 45, 46 and 47. We had read that Ryanair was very strict on baggage weights, so I was especially relieved that we had packed well—Charley’s bag weighted 19.7 kilos and mine was 19.6. Just under the 20 kilo limit! (Of course, I ended up wearing my heavy hiking boots on the plane to get my bag under!)

Le Vieux Bassin in Honfleur

I’m reminded now of the wonderful rhythms of “Our Grand Tour”… arriving in a new place for a week or two, awaking that first morning to explore. We always took it easy on that first Sunday, taking a day to settle in and feel a place become “home”. So it was today in Honfleur.

Charley made a bread run to the boulangerie Dave and Aralynn had recommended. Wonderful croissants! This is just one reason we’re glad to be back in France. We sat on the sunny terrace and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, reading the Sunday Times from London as is our tradition in France. Dave and Aralynn stopped by for a few minutes before they headed back to Paris.

The American Cemetery - 9387 graves

We made a special pilgrimage today to the beaches of Normandy, site of the famous D-Day landings on June 6, 1944. Sixty-two years later it is hard to believe that this beautiful and tranquil countryside was once the site of war and death.

We took a meandering route through the countryside (on the route the Tour de France will take later this week) to the city of Caen, a seemingly modern city that was very badly damaged during World War II. We began our day at Le Mémorial, the Museum of Peace on the outskirts of Caen. The museum told the story of the events leading up to World War II and key aspects of the war. There was a very compelling film on D-Day using actual footage shot by the Allies and the Germans… narrated only by music.

After lunch we drove to the coast and then along several of the landing beaches: Juno, Gold and Omaha. Off the coast near Arromanches, we stopped at a lookout point where we could still see remains of the temporary Mulberry harbor and the German bunkers built into the cliffs.

We came to Normandy with a long list of places to visit, most of which we realize, now that we’re here, are an hour or two away. And so we’ve adjusted our plans, deciding not to do so many day trips. We’re happy to spend most of our days right here in this town, simply enjoying our little cottage and the easy life in Honfleur.

Today we visited the Musée Eugène Boudin, named after one of Honfleur’s most famous citizens. Boudin (1824 – 1898) was a pre-Impressionist, a mentor and inspiration to many of the Impressionists who followed him. Our cottage—Les 36 Marches—has been documented to have been Boudin’s studio for several years. Boudin specialized in painting local beach scenes, many including people of his era enjoying the seashore, the ladies in long dresses and carrying umbrellas. Monet is one of our favorite painters; he said: “Everything I know I owe to Eugène Boudin.” Monet spent several months here on two different occasions, and the museum had two of his paintings along with paintings by Boudin and several other noted artists. It was a surprisingly extensive museum for a small town.

Later in the afternoon, when the sun was not so hot, we spent an hour on the small beach just west of Honfleur, probably a spot that Boudin painted many times. Honfleur is on the estuary of the Seine, where the river meets the English Channel (Le Manche) and the water is a mix of salt water and fresh water. Kelly was anxious to swim; Charley and I planned just to watch. It was a pleasant beach, though strange to see the oil refineries and other industrial buildings of Le Havre on the other side of the river. Charley stood down by the water and watched Kelly while she swam. I sat on a towel further back on the sand.

Apple farm on the Route du Cidre

Honfleur is in the département of Calvados, which takes its name from a cluster of rocks off the coast and now gives its name to the famous AOC (appellation d'origine controlée) apple brandy that is made in this area. The department of Calvados was the center for the “Battle of Normandy” that followed the D-Day invasion on June 6, 1944, and most of the towns and villages were badly damaged during this battle that ultimately resulted in peace in Europe. As we’ve driven through the beautiful and very peaceful countryside this week, it’s almost impossible to imagine the tanks and soldiers—and death—that traveled these same roads just sixty-two years ago this summer.

The tourism office of Calvados has developed five thematic driving loops within the département, and today we drove the "Route du Cidre” in an area called the Pays d’Auge. This was the driving route closest to our location in Honfleur. We had a brochure, but the route would have been easy to follow without it, since each turn was marked with a special sign.

My long-awaited visit to Mont-St.-Michel (photo by Kelly)

This was day with some surprises... one a disappointment, the other an unexpected delight.

I’ve wanted to visit Mont-St.-Michel since I was Kelly’s age, first seeing pictures of this magical island when I studied French in the 7th grade. In July 2004 we had visited St. Michael’s Mount, a sister abbey and island off the coast of Cornwall in England. Now we found ourselves two-and-a-half hours from Mont St. Michel… a very long day trip, but still possible. It was overcast on Wednesday morning and not a good day to go. It was still a bit overcast this morning, and since this was our last opportunity, we decided to make the trip.

We set off about 8:30 am, joining the steady stream of pilgrims who have traveled to Mont-St.-Michel for 1300 years. Our route was mostly on the autoroute, passing through Caen and then southwest toward the coast… almost to the border of Brittany. We chose an indirect approach to the island, detouring off the main road to circle around a few small villages and take a dirt road out through the salt marshes, past flocks of grazing sheep, and finally to a dead end at a sandy beach. And it was there that we had our first view of Mont-St.-Michel, sitting out in a huge sea of sand, the abbey spire rising high into the sky. From that vantage point, we understood why Mont-St.-Michel is considered one of the “marvels of the Western World.” The island is 984 yards around and 262 feet high, crowned by a large and distinctive abbey dating as far back as the 11th century.

Kelly in Honfleur on the day we didn't go to Chartres

A few months ago a good Slow Travel friend and I discovered that we would be in northern France at the same time. Ginger (suncoast) and her husband Craig would be staying in the Loire Valley during the time we were in Honfleur. Although our locations would be four hours apart, we decided to meet at a half-way point: Chartres, famous for its massive Gothic cathedral. We would explore the town, have lunch, and go on a tour of the cathedral.

Ginger and I were both psyched about the Chartres plan. We posted on the Slow Travel message board and got all kinds of great input, which fueled our anticipation. One friend Brenda (BGE) posted especially helpful information, including a link to her trip report about her day at Chartres last year, including her experience walking the labyrinth. Ginger and I were both very interested in the Chartres labyrinth. Many people probably think a labyrinth is a hedge maze—a puzzle or game of sorts—but I had taken a short class at a health spa last spring and had walked a “copy” of the Chartres labyrinth there. I knew that a real labyrinth is a meditative experience, and as various Slow Travelers gave us more insights, the opportunity to walk the labyrinth at Chartres with Ginger became an important part of my plan for Normandy. We ended up scheduling our get-together for Friday, the only day of the week that the labyrinth was available. (It is inside the cathedral and apparently normally covered by chairs.)

On la place Sainte-Catherine

We were up early on our last morning in Honfleur, another cool and drizzly day. We had to finish packing, but we also planned to visit the Saturday morning market and shop for provisions for a special meal we would fix for Dave and Aralynn in Burgundy tonight. These wonderful people—the owners of our Honfleur Cottage and Slow Travel friends we just met in person last Saturday—had invited us to spend a few days at their house near La Charité-sur-Loire on our way down to Provence.

I love the outdoor markets in France, and the Honfleur market was especially good, the food stands set up around the square at the beautiful wooden Église Sainte-Cathérine, its belfrey tower standing separately from the main part of the church. Charley had noticed yesterday that metal poles had been pulled up from the pavement in preparation for the market. Today the poles were topped with awnings, needed with today’s drizzle. We wore sweaters and carried umbrellas—just in case. We didn’t end up needing them.

Happy sunflowers in the Nièvre

Yesterday we began our journey from Normandy to Provence, where we will stay for the next five weeks. This trip will take us almost the whole length of France… a nine-hour drive if we were to do it all in the same day.

But we’re not doing it in one day—we’re enjoying an interlude in Burgundy, courtesy of Dave (“Happy in Paris”) and Aralynn McMane. Several months ago they invited us to break our drive in two and spend a couple of days at their house in western Burgundy (in the département of the Nièvre) near La Charité-sur-Loire.

La Charité-sur-Loire from the pizzeria on the island (photo by Kelly)

Tonight we had dinner at a simple pizzeria on the island in the Loire, looking across at La Charité-sur-Loire with its beautiful abbey and old ramparts. After dinner we walked across the bridge and joined several hundred local residents on the beach along the Loire to watch the World Cup final match—France vs. Italy—on a large screen television. All the chairs around the screen were already taken, so we sat up with others on the hillside, watching the match and the crowd activity.

I wonder what percentage of the French watched this match tonight? Some people watched at home, perhaps with friends. Many watched in bars, overflowing into the streets. We watched with an entire town on the banks of a river, observing a fervent patriotism for the French team. The event attracted people of all ages: families with small children, teenagers, elderly people, a few other visitors like us. Many locals wore red, white and blue; others painted French flags on their cheeks or waved flags.

The swimming pool and our view of Bonnieux

After two perfect days in Burgundy, this morning we began our drive to Provence. We wound our way on smaller roads east to Lyon, then hit the autoroute and headed south. The autoroute was packed today, making me very nervous. There were more trucks than I ever remember seeing on the French roads, and every fourth vehicle seemed to be a camper of some sort. Most drivers seemed to be very much in a hurry. I was anxious to get to Provence, but I didn't want to spend the next few hours with my heart racing in fear.

“Please slow down,” I begged Charley. “I don’t want to wreck before we get to Provence!” He's always an extremely careful driver, but I appreciated that he backed off a bit and moved into the right lane. I relaxed and enjoyed the drive again.

Later we learned that the trucks had been restricted from the autoroute over what was a peak travel weekend in July. Instead they all joined us on the autoroute today.

The scenery became more mountainous and then more rugged. France is so beautiful and there is so much dramatic variety in the landscape. And then finally—Provence! Home! We were less than an hour away. We all perked up, paying attention to the Drôme, a part of Provence we haven’t visited yet. (We plan to come back on a day trip in a few weeks.) At Avignon we paid our toll and left the autoroute—we were back in very familiar territory… less than 30 minutes to go.

Finally we made the turnoff to Bonnieux (there it was on the hill!), and a few minutes later we were bouncing down the gravel road to our friends’ house. Our friends’ daughter came running out to greet Kelly and then us. Kiss, kiss, kiss. We were back in the Luberon.

The 12th century Abbaye de Sénanque, the most recognizable image of Provence

For all that we love the Luberon, until this week we’ve never really seen the lavender.

We first visited Provence in early June 2003. As we left Saignon headed toward our final night on the Côte d’Azur, we saw just a hint of distinctive color on the tips of the lavender plants on the plateau above Saignon.

We’ve seen many fields of lavender in the autumn, winter and spring: rounded clumps of pale green in long manicured rows, often in very isolated, mountainous spots. But we’d never seen the lavender fields of Provence in full bloom: those dramatic masses of bright purple that captivate so many of us in guidebooks, coffee table books, and picture postcards.

Field near Murs

Charley drove our friends to the airport in Marseille at 7:30 am, and I began my long, hot day as a French washerwoman.

Our friends have a laundry room in a “cave,” down through a narrow courtyard between two sections of the house and right next to the other cave that houses their wine cellar. As European laundry facilities go, I definitely can’t complain. “Notre buanderie est superbe”: a large and cool stone room, a relatively-new washing machine, an equally new dryer (unusual in Europe!), a stone sink, a table for folding clothes, an iron and ironing board, and (important!) a large drying rack.

Hard at work in la buanderie

A leisurely breakfast with Dennis and Gloria

A month or so after we came to Provence for our long stay in 2004/2005, we went walking in the Colorado Rustrel with our friend Kevin, his son, and his parents who were visiting from America.

“How do you know Kevin?” his mother asked, as she and I walked together through colorful ochre pathways of the Rustrel. It was clear that our two families were already very good friends.

“I met him on the Internet,” I replied.

His mother did a double take, shocked I’m sure that her married son in France had hooked up with a married woman in America on the internet—and that our spouses approved. As the words came out of my mouth, I realized I felt a bit uncomfortable too. It sounded like something a teenager would say, or a pathetic lonely heart, or someone pursuing a secret life.

The north slope of the Grand Luberon (east of Apt)

We’ve come to Provence this time with a list of things we want to do, some new places to see, another layer to uncover. This area is so rich with opportunities for new experiences, especially in the summertime.

Today we placed a partial check against one of the items on our list: “See more of the Grand Luberon.”

We know much of the Calavon valley well: the valley between the Luberon mountains and the Vaucluse Plateau to the north. We’ve visited many of the villages on the northwest side of the Petit Luberon numerous times: Bonnieux, Lacoste, Menerbes, Oppède, Goult, Roussillon, Gordes, St. Saturnin, and Saignon. Because of our walking, we also know many of the lesser-known villages and small hameaus (hamlets) in this area. But we’ve explored the area east of Apt only a couple of times. It’s a different landscape, a narrower space, dominated by the massive Grand Luberon mountain. Today we decided to head that way to see another part of Provence.

Kelly, Michel and the birthday cake

Charley and I are now the proud parents of a beautiful teenage daughter.

Today is Kelly’s 13th birthday. People always tell her what a lucky girl she is, and her last three birthdays tell the story: her 11th birthday in England, her 12th birthday in Austria, and now her 13th birthday in Provence. This is her tenth trip to Europe.

In our family the birthday person gets to plan the activities and meals for their day. Charley and I liked Kelly’s plan for today, since she picked exactly the things we wanted to do too.

An abundance of freshly-picked fruits and vegetables

Charley, Kelly and I love the markets of Provence: a sensory delight of colors, sounds, tastes, aromas and happy people. This evening we went to a very different kind of market—the “Marché Paysan” (Farmers’ Market) at Velleron, considered by many “foodies” to be one of the best food markets in France. Velleron is a village of about 2800 people, a few miles north of L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue and about 20 miles from our base in Bonnieux.

A “Marché Paysan” includes only farmers selling produce they’ve personally raised and harvested. At these markets you won’t find any tablecloths, lavender sachets, handmade jewelry, olivewood cutting boards, scarves, straw hats or other products intended for the tourists. And there aren’t discount goods like clothes, shoes, cosmetics, kitchen utensils, toys, and hardware gadgets for the locals either. Just locally-raised farm products sold by real farmers: an abundance of fresh vegetables, fruits, olive oil and wine, honey, goat cheese, and flowers. We estimate there were 80-100 sellers when we visited on this Monday evening, all operating from very simple stands set up in front of their trucks.

At the Musée Granet

Aix-en-Provence is one of our favorite day-trip destinations from the Luberon, a place we’ve now visited about ten times. It’s a beautiful drive and one that we enjoy, just an hour from Bonnieux now that we’re familiar with the route. We follow the Winns’ guidebook directions for the scenic back way to Aix through Puyricard. Once in Aix, we park in the Parking Pasteur, another excellent Winn suggestion.

Today we traveled to Aix to see the Cézanne exhibition, commemorating the 100th anniversary of the artist’s death. Cézanne lived most of his life in Aix, and this exhibit—called Cézanne en Provence—features 120 watercolors and paintings he completed in Aix and its surroundings. Although many famous artists painted in Provence (Van Gogh, Renoir, Picasso, Matisse), it was always Cézanne’s home.

Ferme-Auberge Le Castelas near Sivergues

The day began as a pleasant one. Charley made his usual bread run into the village, and we had our breakfast of croissants and a sacristan on the terrace, sharing a coffee with the housekeeper Laurence. She comes two mornings a week; during our stay, she’s here primarily to do annual cleaning projects for our friends.

“Nous allons à Sivergues aujourd’hui,” I told her. “La ferme de chevre.” We go to Sivergues today. The goat farm. (My life in the French language is always in the present tense.)

Laurence is an outgoing and enthusiastic woman who lives nearby in Lacoste. We like her a lot. She speaks French very quickly with lots of hand motions, somehow not realizing that we are working hard to follow her conversation.

“Laurence s’il vous plaît, lentement,” Charley asked her the first time we talked with her alone. “Nous parlons français seulement un peu.” Laurence please, slowly. We speak French only a little.

Borie on Plateau de Claparèdes

During our three years visiting and living in this area, we’ve done much of our exploration on foot, discovering the hidden Luberon that most visitors never see: the woods, the gorges, the mountain tops, the ruins. There are so many special and secret places. During our six months in the Luberon in 2004/2005, Charley and I went on over 30 hikes, many of them with Kelly. When we were here for two weeks in March, we hiked six times. Our two blue IGN maps are worn and tearing, each of our routes marked with a yellow highlighter. We have a “to do” list of future hikes, but we also have our favorites we’re happy to do again or share with a friend.

But now we’re here in the summertime, and it’s hot… much hotter than we expected. Most days the temperature reaches the upper 90’s. The trails are calling us, and we want to hike—but then we don’t! There’s something about the languid days of summer in Provence that make us want to take it easy: sleep in, sit in the shade with a book, float on a raft in the pool, and drink rose wine with ice. Life here in the summertime shifts into a lower, much more leisurely gear.

Looking east toward the Durance and the Alps from the plateau at Ganagobie

Today we ventured further beyond the Luberon, once again to the Alpes de Haute Provence.

Our day began in the town of Forcalquier, about an hour east of Apt on the N100, in an area dotted with fruit orchards and olive trees. The village of Banon—known for its cheese wrapped in chestnut leaves—is not too far away.

We've driven through Forcalquier several times and spent several hours here in 2005 on our way to go skiing in the French Alps. We’ve always considered it an impressive town with the ruins of a castle and chapel on the top of a rounded hill. In 2005 we climbed to the top after lunch. (We actually ate outside in January!) The views from the top are superb, extending west to the snow-covered Alps and back to the Luberon in the east.

Forcalquier was once a very important place—an independent state and capital of the region. Today it comes alive primarily on Mondays—market day—and that was the reason for our visit today. The Forcalquier market is considered one of the best markets in this part of Provence. Our friends’ housekeeper Laurence used to live in a neighboring village; she said this is the major market for people living in the surrounding area and that even in summertime, there will be more locals than tourists.