From Provence to Corsica

Toulon at dusk

Wednesday began with a continental breakfast at our bed and breakfast in Beaumettes.  By the time we got our car loaded up, it was getting close to 10.  We had thought of going back to Senanques Abbey that morning, but decided to just hit the road.

It was overcast as we left and was dull pretty much the whole day – which was fine, as we were travelling.  We again thanked the travel gods for outstanding weather so far on our trip and were willing to accept an overcast day as we motored south toward Toulon.

Our first stop was in Aix-en-Provence, where we stopped at the Fouque atelier (workshop) and store of Provence’s premier maker of Santons.  These are little (or large) crèche figurines that are hand-crafted and painted and have been part of Provence’s Christmas traditions since the French Revolution.  

I was first introduced to Santons when I was in France on my LDS mission almost 30 years ago.  Then, when my younger sister settled in Geneva and made periodic trips to Provence, she started sending me large figurines every year as a Christmas present to our family.  Most of these figurines were made by Fouque, and last year, Martha gave us her entire collection of small Santons, all of which were from Foque.  So …. Since we were in the neighborhood, I wanted to stop by and see this place, where I purchased one more figurine to add to our collection.

We then thought we’d drive into the center of Aix and walk around, but it was noontime and the traffic was horrible.  So, we can say we’ve driven through the center of Aix, but that’s it.  We decided to get out of the city and go on down to Cassis, on the Mediterranean.  

Cassis

We had been told that parking is horrible in Cassis, and such proved to be the case.  But, we finally found a spot in a parking lot that, as luck would have it, was also adjacent to a rocky beach.  We walked down to the harbor and had lunch, then after walking around a bit, we went back to the parking lot, changed into our swimsuits and headed down to the beach.  As was the case at Lake Geneva, however, Mark was the only one who actually went swimming.  The water seemed cold to me; Mark said it was like bathtub water compared to Lake Geneva.

Around 3:00, we headed on toward Toulon.  We had to turn in the car in the center of the city and somehow get all our stuff into the ferry terminal.  After parking near the terminal and walking over to a large supermarket to buy some sandwiches for dinner, we came up with a plan of action:  we would unload all our stuff near the entrance for the walk-on passengers, where I would wait while Mark returned the car and walked back to the terminal.

I had known all along that this part of our trip would probably be the trickiest:  How would we get all our stuff onto the ferry when there were just two of us and it was a long walk from the gate (above) to the terminal, then from the terminal to the ferry (below).

But, everything worked out - as it has tended to do all during our trip.  A shuttle van was arranged to take us up to the terminal, then that same shuttle picked us up at the terminal and took us down to the boat.  Then, a couple of ferry workers helped us get our luggage up the escalator onto the passenger arrival deck, and there was a room to store our biggest pieces of luggage during the crossing.  The bikes went into the car area, where they were locked onto the side of the vessel.

Our cabin

Our cabin windows looked down on the prow of the ship

We left Toulon at 9:00 p.m. and arrived in Ajaccio at 7:00 the next morning (Thursday).  The crossing wasn't bad at all.  There was a bit of rocking, but it helped us sleep. :)

Our tour director picked us up from the ferry terminal and drove us to the hotel where we would be spending our first night.

The view from our hotel room balcony

After getting checked in, Mark and I left on a 48-mile ride up through the Prunelli Gorges, just above Ajaccio.

Our hotel is located on the small peninsula south of "Prunelli".  We rode up through Morgone, Cauro, and on up to Bastelica, where we planned to have some lunch.

On the way up to Bastelica

Bastelica

When we approached Bastelica, we saw several signs for various eating establishments.  "Chez Paul" announced that they had a terrace with panoramic views and authentic Corsican cuisine.  It also announced that it was at the "top of the village."  It was.  We climbed and climbed, finally found the place, went in, sat down ... and were ignored.  They were busy, but they showed no inclination to even bring us table service, let alone a menu, let alone food.  So after waiting a good 20-30 minutes, we got up and left.  We decided to try another place that we had seen at the entrance to town.  Basically, the same thing happened, though we did manage to get a Diet Coke.

By then, it was going on 2:00.  We just decided to head on back to Ajaccio.  I felt surprisingly well, considering I hadn't slept well the night before, we'd been up since before 6:00 and I hadn't had had anything to eat that day except a pain au chocolat at 6:30.

We started down from Bastelica toward Ese and Ocana.  The road wasn't great, but the views were improving.  Then, we came around a corner and saw the following view, along with a roadside food van and several tables.

We stopped, of course, and each ordered a "Corsican" sandwich, then sat down to enjoy the view and the sun.

Our sandwiches were delicious:  Corsican bread, Corsican ham, sliced very thin, Corsican cheese, olive oil.  Yum.  I couldn't eat all of mine; we decided we could have split one between us.  After finishing off with a Nutella crepe, we continued our journey back down to Ajaccio.

Tolla

This is where the ride really became fun.  Beautiful scenery. Winding downhill road that wasn't too scary.  It was really fun.

Looking back toward our little picnic spot (notice umbrellas at right)

Looking down, down, down, all the way to the Mediterranean

Today (Friday) we set off on our tour, heading toward Zicavo.  We almost certainly won't have internet access there, so I'll likely next be reporting from Corte, in the center of the island.

A picture Mark took of me yesterday on our ride down

We will head south along the coast, then up through Pietrosella, Albitreccia, etc. to Zicavo (upper right)

Le Freney: Alpe d'Huez

This is the scene that greeted our eyes yesterday (Thursday) morning as we ascended the Alpe d'Huez, one of the classic Tour de France routes.  The weather was spectacular, probably in the high 60's in the valley and not much cooler up top because of the strong sun.

There are 21 switchbacks on the route d'Alpe d'Huez, which I liked because, psychologically, it's easier to make it to the next switchback than to climb a long, long direct ascent.

I'm not surprised that my Dutch brother-in-law was interested in hearing about this ride.  There were Dutch slogans painted on the road all the way to the top, and there were Dutch cyclists everywhere - not only on this route but elsewhere.  Today (Friday) we rode up to the Col du Galibier, and a Dutch cyclist took a picture of Mark and me (see tomorrow's post).  When Mark asked him how they trained for the mountains, the cyclist said, "Our country is flat.  We train by riding into the wind."  He laughed.

On the way down from Le Freney to Bourg d'Oisans in the valley

Moi

Moi encore

The route wasn't as bad as I thought it might be.  Apparently, as I've commented before, this ride is very similar in length and grade to the ride up Little Cottonwood Canyon, back in Salt Lake.  But, again, what makes this ride more "palatable" psychologically, are the switchbacks ... and the gorgeous views down into the valley below.

My man

A shot of the road below, with the switchbacks

The clock tower of the church in the above picture dates to the 11th century.  That blew me away.  Like I said to Mark on the way up the hill, it's one thing to see the Coliseum and Roman Forum in Rome, which are far older - one expects to see such antiquities in Rome.  But to see a clock tower in the mountains above Bourg d'Oisans that is 1000 years old ... it just struck me as amazing.

Mark told me that this church figured in history that is a little closer to us in time, i.e., 11 years ago in the Tour de France.  It was apparently at this point, with the resort of Alpe d'Huez in view, that Lance Armstrong took off from his rival, Jahn Ulrich.   Cool.

After a bit more struggling (actually, more than a bit), we reached the ski resort of Alpe d'Huez and stopped at the cafe "Indiana" (with the cafe L'Alaska just down the street) for a respite and a bite of food.  I ordered Croque Monsieurs (grilled ham and Emmental cheese on American-style bread) for both Mark and me.  This was probably the only time we will order such sandwiches because they are SO rich.  (Mark just said, "You really think they were too rich?  I loved them!"  I'm writing this as we sit outside the Hotel Cassini on Friday evening.  He is sitting next to me, writing on his computer as I write on mine.)

After leaving Alpe d'Huez, we headed on up to the Col de Sarenne.  This was a very pleasant ride until we reached the last ascent to the summit.  O la la.   It was a long slog.  And after the young Dutch cyclist zipped by us (I think he had a third chainring), I was a bit disheartened. Mainly because it was a long slog up to the Col (or pass).  But, I made it.  

A gorge on the way to the Col de Sarenne

At the Col (Pass) de Sarenne, taken by - you guessed it - a Dutch cyclist

The road down from the Col de Sarenne

Moi

Moi encore, coming down from the Col de Sarenne

On the way down to Le Freney

On the way down to Le Freney

So, we had arrived, on our way down to Le Freney, at the village of Mizoen, not far from our hotel.  We took the above picture.  Then, in the village itself, Mark stopped to take the following picture:

I stopped, too, at the bottom of a street that led up from where we were.  I reached up to zip down my jersey, and alas, lost my balance, and down I went.  I couldn't manage to release my binding of my left foot.  Mark tried to pick me up, but I still couldn't manage to release my left foot from my pedal.  There was an old French man sitting about six feet to the right of the sign in the above picture, sitting on a bench with his hands on his cane.  He must have been really enjoying the sight. 

Finally, I decided to lay back down, all the way down, and then release my foot.  And that worked.  Thus the show ended for the old man as well as the middle-aged man and woman down on the corner, just out of the frame of the above picture.  I could have chosen to be extremely embarrassed, but I actually wasn't.  First blood had been shed.  I was baptized by fire.  I was ready for the next time I fell standing still.  

From the Black Forest to the French Alps

After our return to Sasbachwalden from our ride on Tuesday, we headed south to Maleck, the home of one of Mark's GG-Grandmothers who emigrated to the United States.  It was a tiny village, smaller even than Sasbachwalden.  There we stayed at an old hotel that had some nice grounds.  We didn't arrive until late in the afternoon, so we abandoned our plans of cycling around the area so that Mark could see where his ancestors (which I had previously researched) lived.  Instead, we just drove around a bit, then headed back to the hotel for dinner.

Breakfast at the hotel in Maleck.  (I didn't actually eat all that bread.)

We got an early start the following morning - yesterday.  As predicted, it was overcast and hazy for most of our drive down to and through the heart of Switzerland.  We couldn't unfortunately see the mountains on the other side of Lake Geneva, but the sun did come out as we found a place to pull over about five kilometers east of Nyon.  

We changed right there on the side of the rode, then got our bikes out and rode into Nyon, a gorgeous old town on the shores of the lake, complete with a chateau.  

Nyon (a picture from the Internet)

After finishing our ride, we went back into Nyon, where Mark took a quick dip in the lake, then we headed on toward our destination:  Le Freney d'Oisans, about 60 kilometers southeast of Grenoble, in the French Alps.

As if on cue, the clouds started to break up just as we commenced our drive up the valleys through almost sheer walls of rock.  It was spectacular.  We drove through Bourg d'Oisans, then on higher yet to our destination.

Where we are staying - I took this pic shortly after our arrival late yesterday afternoon

The view from our window, early yesterday evening

Le Freney

As I write this, before we head out for our rides today, we are sitting in our room with the window open. We hear the sound of the stream running below us and, every 15 minutes, the sound of a church bell ringing somewhere in the valley.  The sky is blue.  We are ready for the adventure that awaits us (I hope I live to tell the tale).