Lyon, Tarascon, Arles,
Les Saintes Maries-de-la-Mer

One of Lyon's many beautiful fountains.    We were exhausted but didn't give into sleep. Instead we went out to explore Lyon. We bought some Poire William (eau de vie) and located a couple of possible restaurants for us to eat in later that night, then went off on our bikes for the rest of the day to look around.

Later that evening we got such a snot nosed reception at the first restaurant we sat down in that we just got up and left. The second was a much happier place. They were friendly and helped with suggestions for what we might like to eat. My salade Lyonaise (lettuce, vinaigrette, bacon, soft poached egg on top) was great. Ditto for Elizabeth's Salade de foie de Volaille (lettuce, vinaigrette and crispy chicken livers). For the main course we both had a Lyonaise specialty, Quenelles de Brochet, which is puréed pike in cream rolled into a kind of dumpling. It was served in lobster sauce. It was rich and satisfying. Unfortunately with the jet lag and lack of sleep, I drank too much wine and as I was leaving stood up too quickly. As my chair went back, it caught on the floor and fell over. I hurriedly picked it up but I still remember the admonishing, pained look on the face of the restaurant owner. The restaurant was quite full by that time too. Was it my imagination or did I hear a pin drop as we left?

We spent a part of Sunday morning in the large market that stretches for a couple of kilometers along the banks of the Saône river in downtown Lyon. This is where we like to buy our lunch. We usually keep it to a simple picnic of bread, cheese and fruit, but there are lots of hot dishes to choose from too; Paella, Choucroute (sauerkraut), Coq au Vin, beautifully roasted chickens and quail. Great selections of local wine too. Just about anything you can imagine.

A view of Lyon from over the Rhone river.     Sunday afternoon we went about exploring Lyon on our bicycles. We were able to follow Rues Pietons (pedestrian walkways) and cycle paths for much of the day. Included in our excursion was an hour for lunch in the huge Parc Tête D' Or* that has literally miles of lovely green tree lined roads, lakes and botanical gardens. The park was full of people walking and roller blading. We were wondering about the lack of bicycles when the mystery was solved. An elderly woman with an officious voice called out as we rode by. "En pieds les dimanches aprés midi" (On foot Sunday after Noon.)

We caught a 8:39 am train from Lyon to Avignon where we would start our bicycle journey. In Lyon it was raining and very fall like in the early morning but our hotel clerk said we would find very different weather in the area we were planning to cycle in. He was right. It was a beautiful sunny day when we arrived in Avignon.- and just the right temperature for cycling. We bought lunch and began our great journey. As we left town we went through a seedy looking neighborhood and cycled by the oldest, fattest looking prostitute dressed in high boots, a fluffy powder blue sweater and a very short skirt. She was standing in front of a seedy looking bar / truck stop.

Elizabeth making her way up to Abbaye St.Michelle.    The large highway out of town was busy but thankfully had a cycle path next to it. We soon found small roads however and followed a route my father had taken 12 years earlier along with my sister and her husband. We followed a very tiny road up to Abbaye St. Michelle where we had lunch, eating the best soft ripe cheese that I purchased in a supermarket in Avignon. We shared it with a French couple who happened to be eating at the same picnic spot in hopes they could identify it. They too were stumped but we all agreed that such good cheese was rarely found outside France.

We got lost on the tiny roads into Tarascon - but we didn't care. It was such a lovely day. We had to ask for directions a couple of times, once from an old farmer wearing coke bottle glasses as he and his wife drove by in an old dusty car. "Vous êtes perdue?" he asked? We nodded. He then proceeded to give us detailed directions and for the first time we became aware of a phrase we would hear over and over. "Vous tombez la." (You fall there.)

In Tarascon we stayed in Hotel Terminus FF190 ($55.00 cdn) and ate a wonderful dinner there of Fish soup and garlic mayonnaise followed by wonderful pork chops and pitchers of local wine. The lady who ran the hotel took very good care of us as she did with everybody who was there. Her restaurant was absolutely full with happy people having a night out.

We woke up early because the traffic outside our bedroom window started up at about 6:00am. (It was the only drawback to an otherwise perfect hotel - we were very near the main road.) We ate breakfast then decided to look around. It was market day. Our first town and already a market!! We went in search of our picnic lunch.

We wondered around in the market before heading over to a 11th Century Chateau that the tourist brochure mentioned. Outside the Chateau we met several groups of other cyclists. Tarascon was a busy place we decided, mostly because it is close to Avignon which, being so lovely, seems to be on everyone's itinerary.

Chateau Tarascon wasn't furnished inside, but was still interesting. What really intrigued us was that there were what looked like bullet holes pock marking many of the windows and doorways throughout the building. There was no explanation for this as far as we could see. But there was something even more amazing. The Chateau was absolutely filled with old graffiti dating back to around 1790 when the Chateau was used to house prisoners of war. There was also another room that dated back to a much earlier time. It was filled with the most elaborate pictures of sailboats that had been scratched into the stone walls. (And I do mean elaborate - and huge, sometimes 8 or 10 feet across.) They were the work of another man held prisoner -for what they don't know - in the 1500's. It was really remarkable

When we left Tarascon at about 12:30, I was in a bad mood because this was way too late to be leaving anywhere. This was only our second day of travel and I wanted to be riding. The problem was we just kept meeting more and more groups of friendly cyclists and naturally we kept striking up conversations. We headed towards Nimes but after about 45 minutes decided to go to Arles instead so we had to change direction. Our route took us on tiny roads beside fields filled with sorghum and corn, all made autumn gold and brilliant in the afternoon sun. The sky was a brilliant, perfect blue. We were headed into Van Gogh country and it was easy to see where the inspiration for many of his paintings came from.

We arrived in Arles just as it was clouding over. In fact I thought it was going to rain. We found lovely room in the Regency hotel FF180 ($52.00 cdn). The room was great and looked out over the Rhone river. Just as we were about to take our luggage upstairs the telephone rang. The Madame picked it up listened for a moment before replying, "Desolée Monsieur, nous sommes complete." We were lucky. We got her last room.

I awoke at about 5:00 am and from my bed I could hear that it was raining outside. I got up and looked out the open window. Barges were plying the Rhone in the grey early morning. The wind was very strong and blustery. It blew a little rain on my chest as I stood watching. I shivered and went back to bed depressed.

We woke up 2 1/2 hours later and the rain had stopped but it was still windy and grey. "What the hell" we said to each other, "let's go for it anyway." Knowing we had such good rain gear certainly helped. We were to head south then follow a dike along the Mediterranean into Les Saintes Maries-de-la-Mer but all the wet weather made us think that we may have trouble on the unpaved road on top of the dike. We decided to take small roads through the Camargue instead.

The salt marshes of the Camargue.    The Camargue is a huge flat area surrounding the area north of where the Rhone empties into the Mediterranean sea. It's a vast expanse of grey green fields, salt marsh, egrets, flamingoes and grazing horses. When one thinks of The French coastline along the Mediterranean, the Camargue doesn't fit the picture at all.

We cycled under a threat of rain all morning and even caught a few drizzles. But at around 1:30 the sun started to peek through and by the time we entered Les Saintes Maries-de-la-Mer the sun was shining as though the day had never heard of a cloud. Elizabeth was so happy the first thing she did was whip off her shoes and go splashing around in the Sea. I just wanted to find a hotel and go exploring - so there you go.

Continued.....

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