Up and over to the car place at 9. So happy I rented a GPS along with, because the English man gives such great directions! We head north into the mountain area known as the Luberon – with two small ranges named Le Petit Luberon and Le Grand Luberon. Hard to tell which is which, because they both look pretty petit next to the grandeur of the Rockies!
But most importantly, my heart is singing because this the the view and the countryside that I have so long pictured in my head when conjuring up visions of “the south of France.” rolling green hills, olive groves and grape orchards one after the other, and ancient stone villages sprouting from the tops and sides of every verdant slope. Aaah. Matty is so patient while I stop around so many bends in the road to snap pictures like this:
And this:
And this:
We arrive in Lourmain, the gastronomic capital of the region in only 35 minutes. We continue on to our furthest destination, Gordes, where we plan to take our first hike. We’ve brought our stuff in case we decide to stay overnight somewhere, so we’re prepared for anything.
We arrive and park in Gordes, pick up a very limited trail guide from the tourist office (not so helpful as in our ranger stations), stop in a boulangerie to pick up some sandwiches and pastries ( and Matty wanted to pick up the pastry working the cash register) and walk around the side of the hill town to have a picnic and discuss afternoon plans.
We eat, rest, and decide to take the 10k walk over to the next hill town of Roussellin. We see that there’s a bus from there back to Gordes at 4:30 and feel pretty confident we can make that work.
We set off on the trail, and learn the cool system of their trail markings. There are slashes of colored paint, like a dash about one inch by four inches, on the road, or stone walls, so we become great detectives at locating our red and white slashes (and our trail has an orange dash as well when we start off). And so helpful that they will put big X’s with the appropriate colors on paths that are NOT the right trail. We start off down through alleys and out of town and before long we are walking along the road. I grumble a little and hope we don’t have to walk on the road the whole way. We stop and ask some other bikers if they know the trail, and they repeat several times to us…do we know how far that is? We just smile and keep on going.
Luckily, after about 20 minutes we break off onto a rocky trail above the road and more vineyards. They’re everywhere, really.
We walk and talk in the sun, through the valley, by farms and pretty vine-covered cottages. I sigh and smile and breathe it all in. As we walk, we pass so close to a vineyard that Matt asks if he can take a few.
They are the deepest blue-purple and when I pop one into my mouth, I can feel my whole brain awash with purple as the rich flavor spreads through my mouth. Man oh man.
We keep on going and as we pass fields down the road, I point out that there are carrots strewn about. Matt looks at me, I look around, and I send him in.
We each bite our carrot, look at each other, and I ask him to get more. So fresh and yummy! A couple of dogs are barking at us from down the road and Matt worries about a big bite on his butt as he bends over to snatch a few more, but they seem like the garden variety guard dogs (pun intended). We ease on down the road like a couple of satisfied Bugs Bunnies.
The path is easy, but getting long in the sun. We start the climb up to our destination, discussing the goings-on and future of Camp Winnebago. We’re here! Walk into the tourist office before settling in for a cold drink and are informed that there is no bus, we needed to call and reserve one two days before… no way am I walking back. I call and order a taxi for an hour later. We walk the small loop of town, taking pictures of (what else?) the view of the valley surrounding us.
Taxi ride straight back to our car, and we’re on the road again.
We head over to the little hill town of Lacoste (no relation to the clothing company) so I can see the castle of the Marquis de Sade (now owned and being renovated by Pierre Cardin), and as we are leaving, I see a signpost that says the town of Menerbes is only 8 km away. For those of you who don’t know, this is the town lived in and the subject of the book “A Year in Provence”, which was a big step in this area becoming so popular. How could I not go? Matt, being the amenable guy that he is, said no problem, so off we went.
A we came into the town and started ascending the hill, I was giggling just at being there. A spontaneous and unexpected treat, this lovely town turned out to be the prettiest of all. It, too, along with Lourmarin and Rousselin, is on the official list of the “prettiest villages in France”. The association was founded in 1982 to promote quintessential french life. To be on the list, a village must have less than 2,000 inhabitants, have at least two protected areas and have the city council make the application.
We entered the village behind another small car and I followed it at a snail’s pace up stone streets wide enough only for one car and a pedestrian. It was exciting and scary, because it felt like we couldn’t possible fit down the next street and would there be any way out?
The view as we were stopped behind someone loading supplies into their shop:
We reached the top and parked. Exited to a spectacular view on each side of the town hall:
and the museum of truffles and wine. I couldn’t bring myself to go inside, lest I get lost in truffle world. Walked by and old cemetery:
And soaked up the tranquility and beauty of the spot. Also took a moment to appreciate that here I was – once again – bringing to life one of my travel dreams. And – once again – having my heart so full from the appreciation that it was as wonderful as I’d imagined. Yep, definitely a peak day of the trip. Wandered through the streets:
It’s getting late, so Matt and I climb back into the car and head back to Aix. Pretty much impossible to find street parking, so we leave our auto in the lot and walk back home, two tired puppies from a really long day.