Trekking in Provence, France - Hilltop Villages, Red Ocher Corridors, Medieval Churches, and Pains au Chocolat

We would be carrying everything we would need for the next seven days as we walked from one hilltop town to the next in the Luberon region of Provence, France. If we had booked this trek through a tour company, they would likely have included in their price a service that would have transported our luggage ahead of us to each overnight stop relieving us from having to carry so much. But, since we are traveling independently, such a service is not available (at least not what I could find after an exhaustive internet search). So, that means clothes, toiletries, basic electronics (I’m schlepping my laptop so that I can type this blog), and an assortment of other odds and ends are all strapped to our backs. Meanwhile, all of our other longer-term travel related luggage items have been stored with Sophie back in the hotel she operates in Apt, the one where we had been staying and will again stay at the conclusion of our trek.

Apt to Bonnieux

This weight on our backs had us working up quite a sweat as we slowly walked up the gravel road in the nearly 90-degree mid-day temperature when, while taking a break at a dirty white plastic table next to an equally dirty white van, three elderly ladies in the finest clothes and delicate sandals came walking down from the opposite direction to greet us. One of them, interpreting for the others, told us there should be a bottle of wine and five glasses on that table for all of us to enjoy while visiting with each other.  After a hearty laugh and several “bonjours” we parted ways, they calmly and casually walking down the road, us grinding upwards dripping with sweat and our tongues lolling, panting like dogs.

Adding to the weight is the daily food we need for snacks and our mid-day meal break. And today’s food load was to be larger than normal. We learned before embarking on this trip that most if not all grocery stores and restaurants are closed on Sunday afternoons and all day on Mondays. Knowing which overnight accommodations include or don’t include meals and, given that today is a Monday, we had to factor in our food needs for more than just one day. It was all a part of our pre-trip planning and what would be ongoing logistics while on our trek.

It was nearly 3:00pm when, as we turned off of a ridge, we saw across the valley the village of Bonnieux where we would find our evening’s accommodation. The village, much of which was hanging on the side of a hilltop, was fully illuminated by the late afternoon sun.

The gentleman at the front desk asked if we knew that we had booked the “cheap” room, one without a balcony or any views other than of the street below. We in fact did know this, we told him, and were fine with it since we had very nice views all day during our trek and at this point, didn’t need to pay a higher price for any more.

Bonnieux

Bonnieux to Lumieres

You get what you pay for, right? Our basic, cheap room without views came with an unpleasant odor from the shower floor drain. It’s as if there wasn’t a trap to keep the sewer gas from rising up through the pipes and into the room. This likely explains the hallucinogenic dreams I had last night.

On the trail, we noticed that tiny white snails can be found everywhere. They cling to plants and weeds. Fence posts and telephone poles are covered with them. Even fire hydrants cannot escape their presence. I read where the locals sometimes harvest them. The snails are starved for week to remove their bitterness and then boiled and added to various dishes.

Good maps are essential for our route finding. There are occasional signposts indicating the direction of travel. However, they are infrequent. Instead, we often use the maps and their topographic data to supplement the tiny colored markers we see in the field (see the following pictures). These markers are sometimes easy to miss, so one has to be vigilant and constantly on the lookout for them. A marker consisting of a white stripe over a red strip indicates the direction along a larger, country wide Grand Randonee trails, while a simple yellow strip indicates the direction along a smaller, regional Petit Randonee trails.

Screen shot of the IGN maps we used for route finding

Trial markers are often found on rock walls, fence posts, and street signs

This means you're going the wrong way and should have turned earlier. 

An occasional sign post aides in our navigation. 

Look for markers high up on a telephone post. This one means we are to turn right up ahead. 

Sometimes, the trail markers are underfoot.

Our route-finding skills failed us at one point today. We were lost in a maze of olive groves and purple grape vineyards. We must confess that our lust in eating some of the grapes and savoring their juicy sweetness distracted us from following the right path. We could see in the distance the village of Lacoste where we would take a mid-day break but the route to get there was nowhere to be found. We scrambled down an embankment to a country lane just as a car was passing. I waved our map at the motorist. She was apparently used to the fact that others have gotten lost in this area. She immediately stopped and, without asking, showed us the correct way to go. 

Finding our way out of the vineyards and towards Lacoste

In Lacoste, a small farmers market was being held at a tiny town square in the shadow of an ancient castle once owned by the family of Marquis du Sade (yes, the one of sadist fame). We purchased some simple produce to add to our sandwiches before continuing on despite the day’s rising temperature. At one point, MK asked if I was perhaps a distant relative to the Marquis given the strength-sapping punishment I was putting her through due to the oppressive oven-like heat and the searing overhead sun.

Just as we about had no more to give, our villa in the town of Lumieres appeared before us, like a green-shaded liquid oasis in the middle of the desert. Our spacious room overlooked an inviting pool in which we soon found ourselves submerged. The day’s hardship became a distant memory as we relaxed on the deck in the cool shade with our hosts serving us thirst-quenching drinks and fresh figs and grapes from their garden. We were being treated like a king.

Or would that be like a marquis?

Lumieres to Gordes

Field hands graciously allowed us to take their pictures as they worked in the road-side vineyards picking and packing bunches of grapes. We were told these varieties weren’t for making wine but instead were sold as produce to various grocers in the region. After our brief chat, they went back and busied themselves with their tasks while we in turn busied ourselves with covertly picking and eating some of the grapes once we were out of sight and heading back towards the road and our day’s route.

Time for us to sample some of these delicious grapes!

The berries on these juniper bushes are as big as the grapes in the vineyards. Gin anyone?

In St. Pantaleon (the patron saint of nurses and doctors), we found an old church erected in the 12^th century. The remains of the dead from the Great Plague in the 1700s are said to be buried in a necropolis underneath the building. A more “current” graveyard was located in an adjacent walled off plot. The tops of many of the vaults and grave markers were adorned with pictures, ceramic flowers and pottery, and other artifacts, all as remembrances of the loved ones buried beneath. I can’t imagine how a similar unguarded cemetery in the U.S. would survive rampant vandalism and theft. 

Our mood was light and cheery today. The cooler temperatures helped tremendously. The shade underneath a copse of trees within view of the distant hilltop town of Gordes was the site of our mid-day lunch break. Like many, if not all of the villages in this region, Gordes is situated atop a hill overlooking the plains below. In medieval times, attacking those who dared to approach, or defending one’s self from those who wished to attack you, is always strategically easier if done from the high ground. As such, these hilltops were natural locations on which to form a community.

Wonderful view of Gordes from our picnic spot 

Always find time to stop a smell the flowers

We later found ourselves up and in this hilltop town where our apartment rental awaited. Spacious quarters with a full kitchenette with access to the cooling waters of another inviting pool would serve as our accommodation for the next two nights. After buying some food from a simple grocery store and seeing the sights in the village center, we ate our dinner while marveling at the views of the distant hills and the valley below. 

And, there were no approaching attackers from what I could see.

Gordes to Roussillon

It has become our morning routine to stop at a café on the way out of town and have a proper cuppa before heading out on our day’s trek. Like all of our other days so far, today’s cloudless skies foretold of another beautiful, if not a little too warm, sunny day was ahead of us.

Soon after passing a field of carrots, we walked up on four couples, all retirement age, getting their walking sticks and other gear out of their cars that they had parked at a trail head leading to a nearby gorge. We weren’t heading in that direction since it would have taken us several miles out of our way, so we looked on with envy as they padded off north while we were heading south and west.

Later, as we walked between a field of barley and a new crop of lavender (that was not yet flowering), there was a monument honoring the French resistance who fought in this area in WWII. At this particular spot in May, 1944, they had waited, and later received, an airdrop from the British Royal Airforce that would supply them with weapons and ammunition to conduct various disruptive actions in advance of the Allied invasion that would occur one month later.

Barley, hops, ...?

Just as we finished looking at this monument, a man dressed only in a t-shirt, sandals, and gym-type shorts road by on a rusty and rickety single-gear bike with a wicker basket on front. Not until he passed and we saw him up ahead as he deposited items in driveway mailboxes did we realize he was a rural letter carrier for the post office.

The day was wearing on a bit, so I brought up a conversation piece to break the monotony, asking MK how many different places she had lived, starting with her childhood home to the current day in the house we share. She always mentioned to me the various homes and apartments she has lived in but had never had counted them. I guess I wasn’t surprised when she told me she has lived at 22 different addresses in her lifetime. What did surprise me was my count, something I too had never done, clocking in at 20 different addresses. I don’t know it this is something we should marvel at or be mortified about.

Why the long face?

At Roussillon, our route brought us to the Sentier des Ocre, a trail that took us through a corridor of deep ocher, red, and yellow mineral deposits all framed by the green hues of the many pine trees that thrived in the area. Many of the buildings in town were built with this material and, as a result, show off a palette of reds and oranges unlike what we’ve seen in other hilltop towns.

And now we’re really getting spoiled. As we approached our evening’s accommodations, we saw that yet again there was another inviting pool to refresh ourselves from the day’s hot and dusty hike.

Roussillon to St. Saturnin les Apts

Well, good morning!

Another morning habit has formed. In addition to stopping for a cup of coffee on the way out of town, we also stop at a boulangerie (bakery) and buy a pain au chocolat. This croissant filled with little chunks of chocolate is simply the most delicious way to energize us for the rest of our morning’s walk.

Several days ago, MK had developed an allergic reaction to something causing sniffles and sneezes throughout the day. It wasn’t until today, when we stopped for lunch in the town of Gargas, did we conclude that the cause was the mosquito repellant she was using. All morning she was fine but, after applying the repellant in anticipation of a buggy trail ahead, she started to sneeze and wipe her runny nose. Deet, this repellant is not. Instead, it has some type of natural froufrou ingredients that the manufacturers must believe repels bugs through the sneezes it causes in humans.

For the first time on this trek, or route took us through a bona-fide natural preserve. While not a wilderness per se, it was indeed an area devoid of any human intervention save for the thread of the dirt trail underneath our feet. At certain vantage points, we could see both the villages we had yet to visit as well as those which we already had. The telltale was how the congregation of buildings was punctuated by the steeple of the town’s centrally located church.

The trail became pavement as we left this open space and out onto the nearby road network. Wanting conversation, MK repeated for me what one of her friends had posted from a source on Facebook. “On the Andy Griffith show,” she said, “did you realize that all of the characters, save one, were not married? Andy, Aunt Bee, Barney, Helen, Thelma Lu, Gomer, Goober, Howard, Miss Clara, … all of them single. Why is that?” I hadn’t thought of that before. It was a good question. She continued, “The only person who was married was Otis, and he was drunk all the time!”

The latest hilltop town, St. Saturnin les Apts, was like many of the others we have been to in this past week. A restaurant/bar looked lively so we stopped and had a refreshment break out on the sidewalk café. MK soon went off to the town pharmacy to buy some allergy medicine while I sat at my table, lit a cigar after noticing a lot of the other patrons smoking, and wondered if, to better fit in with the apparent French lifestyle, I should grow a beard and start wearing skinny jeans and oversized gym shoes while carrying a man purse around my shoulder.  

After MK returned, we walked down the street a short distance to check into our overnight accommodation. And what do you know? There was yet another pool to greet us!

St. Saturnin les Apts to Apt

Our hotel proprietor introduced us to German couple who were already seated at the breakfast table located on the patio that overlooked the pool and the Luberon valley far down below. This lovely couple were on their golden wedding anniversary trip traveling throughout Europe on a route similar to the one they took on their honeymoon 50 years ago. We congratulated them while we passed between us the dishes of breads, croissants, jams, cheese, jambon, yogurt and, of course, pains au chocolat that were spread out on the table.

I asked what was the secret to a long marriage such as theirs.

“Let me respond by telling you a joke,” the gentlemen said. His wife rolled her eyes as if she’s heard this one a thousand times before.

He continued, “I once knew an old WWII army veteran. He too was married for over 50 years. When I once asked him the secret to his long marriage, he said, ‘You need to spend about four of those years in a Russian prisoner of war camp.’”

They were soon on their way in their car to visit other parts of Provence while we retrieved our backpacks from our room. Our proprietor seemed amazed that we have walked to his place and were about to walk again to Apt. He lifted our packs and exclaimed, “Ooh-la-la! How heavy. And you walked the entire way with these on your backs?”

We assured him that indeed we did, said our goodbyes, and began our final day’s march to Apt, the village where we started this trek one week ago.

Olive groves dominated the scene for the first hour or so of our hike. At one grove, a man was readying his supplies to harvest some of them. When I asked if I could walk out among the trees to take a picture, he agreed while telling me that these olives will be used to make salad dressing. I took some pictures of him and his friend, who had since shown up in his pick-up truck. The dozen or so shotgun shells that were inserted into the vest he was wearing did not go unnoticed. There would be no covert taste testing for us this day!

We had hoped to stop for lunch at an ancient church that was supposed to be at the top of a hill we had been climbing for the better part of the late morning. We were never able to find it even though it is marked on the map in addition to road signs showing us the way. Perhaps it is now just a scattered pile of rubble and ruins hidden by the overgrown brush and thick forest of trees.

Speaking of churches – we had been inside many of them throughout this past week. Here are some pictures that best illustrate what is inside many of them.

A long descent from the heights and into Apt took up most of the early afternoon. We were now road weary, ready to be finished, and looking forward to some R&R for the next several days.

Our route took us along a bridge that spanned the town’s small river and onto a lane leading to our hotel. We were pleased to find Sophie, our friendly proprietress, was there waiting for us with a cold Perrier and a local IPA beer.

Happy to be done!