May 9, 2023
Tarascon - Arles
This is our last day on our bikes for a while. We slept okay in our quirky room but we are still tired from yesterday. Janos makes himself an instant coffee and eats the sandwich I made at yesterday's breakfast. I decide to wait and have a good coffee in a cafe. But first I want to get something to treat the angry welts on my legs. They don't hurt or itch but the rash and burn from too many hours in the sun without sunscreen look serious. I'll spare you ugly pictures of my legs.
We have an easy time finding a pharmacy. I decline the thick paste and bandages they recommend as I can't imagine cycling with that on my legs. I settle for an après-soleil cream to sooth the distressed skin. And of course I will be wearing long pants for protection for a while, regardless of the temperature. The coming weeks are predicted to be on the cool side, anyway.
The town isn't big, but we have a hard time figuring out where things are. The warren of narrow streets, cobbled in small white stones shiny from use, are uncomfortable on our loaded bikes. One car is enough to block an intersection. Most of the houses look in desperate need of repair, here and there patched together with blobs of cement. We cycle up and down and see neither bakery nor bar. We get directions from walkers but only eventually stumble upon a boulangerie when I detect the scent of fresh baked croissants in the air.
At the edge of town we find a small street market and a cafe with tables outside. It's a lively scene. I don't take candid pictures of strangers unless I can do it very discretely and seldom ask people if I can take their picture so I left my camera in its bag. But I would have loved to have a picture of the elderly couple at the table next to us, each with a little dog on their lap and a morning glass of wine in front of them. They aren't the only ones having a glass of wine, it seems most people are enjoying a morning apéro. There is the orange lady - her hair is a bright henna orange, her shirt, pants and handbag match, and her shopping cart, too. Next to us sits a well groomed gentleman with a tiny goatee dyed blue. Another woman has tumultuous purple hair and a blouse with a floral print that go well together. But I don't take any pictures.
I also regret that I don't take a photo walk without my bike to capture the wonderful shades of colors on the buildings and the subtle tones of the shutters. They aren't all in the subdued blue that you see often in these parts, but in all shades of the rainbow. But we feel we have to be on our way, it is nearing 11:30, rain is predicted for the early afternoon and we still have to ride to Arles where our caris parked and then drive four hours to Durfort.
I don't have a route for this short ride of 16 or so kilometers but Janos says to just follow him. When he thinks the routes indicated as bicycle friendly are too circuitous, he likes shortcuts. So we start out riding past a large penitentiary, then the city dumps and some extensive industry before we hit the official bike path to Arles. Here it is easy sailing, Janos doesn't have to be thrifty with his battery and is soon out of sight.
The car is where we left it and soon we have the bikes on the carrier. Not long after we are underway, it begins to rain, and then pours, unpleasant driving. It doesn't let up and is still raining when we get to our accommodation in Durfort, Le Moulin de l'Abbaye which was once a grain mill and now has been immaculately restored as a hostel. We carry our bags up two narrow flights of stairs to our small room, simple but adequate, and settle in for the next three days.
Today's ride: 18 km (11 miles)
Total: 400 km (248 miles)
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