Day Twenty One: St. Gilles to Les Saintes Maries de la Mer

April 17, 2017

The pilgrim hostel had a complete kitchen plus supplies like butter and jam, so all we had to do was nip around the corner to the bakery to be able to have a sit down breakfast. Yolande helped me lead the bikes from her place to in front of the hostel. As we walked the bikes I casually commented that it was good we had bikes because walking on two canes Dodie would never make it to Spain on foot.

This comment just about made Yolande's day, bless her heart. "Walks on canes?" "Mon dieu!" and she crossed herself. Yolande thinks (properly) that being a pilgrim is a very noble occupation. Doing it with a disability elevated Dodie to an even higher status in her mind.

Kristina came to see us off. There was a chance she would stick here for one more day. Her first day's 20 km walk had left her tired. I think this shelter sees that a lot, since almost everyone here would be on their first day. In our experience it takes two weeks to really get into a physical enterprise like this.

Meeting Kristina was one of the benefits of staying in a hostel. We will remember her, with the help of this blog. It will help us also remember the dozens of great people we are meeting and will meet over the months.

Our route today was betwen St Gilles and Saint Maries - visible on the map. Tomorrow we will pass through Aigue-Morts - to the left on the map

Some of our road today was straight, smooth, and with a shoulder

A manade is a ranch. Ranches here are based on the white horse and the black bull

The Camargue, being one of the last wild places in France s worthy of a little extra time. So rather than beat a path west and out we set off south, to Les Saintes Maries de la Mer. The town itself was something we could not miss, as explained below, but for now we were still after encounters with white horses, black bulls, and pink flamingos, the three most famous things in this region.

It wasn't long before we encountered all three. The flamingos at first were just in pairs or threes, quite distant. Later in the day, they grew thicker, though we never encountered any huge flocks. We may be about a month early for that. That did not change their beauty though, nor how weird they look when flying, with their long necks straight out in front.

The flamingoes probably get pinker later in the season too

Look at the one flamingo bigger and taller than the rest

Not so elegant but still interesting flamingos

Bulls too were easy to spot from our route. Unlike the Charollais, who looked like muscle bound big babies, the black cattle look like muscle bound serious dudes!

But as always, it was the white horses that we looked for. We can readily say that the ones we encountered in 2013 were no fluke. The horses can be seen here in large numbers - wild or half wild, or carrying tourists on rides, or working on real farms herding cows. The first ones we saw today were with tourists. But the thing is these were no plodding nags, bored with following the horse in front on endless meaningless meanders. Rather they take whatever they are doing dead seriously, with nobility, and concentration. It is impossible to take a photo of them, even dragging tourists around, and to catch them at a bad moment. They are always beautiful.

Coming in with that predisposition, you can imagine our reaction when just at the entrance to Les Saintes Maries eight riders materialized out of the Camargue, shepherding about 30 white horses and some foals (the foals are born brown and do not turn white until about five years of age). We thought this was going to be a great opportunity to witness horses crossing the road. But no, they turned down the road and proceeded to walk down the main street and through town.

It was a more or less spontaneous, presumably Easter, event. We followed on our bikes behind the horses and remarkably no one kicked us off the street. Deeper into town, crowds lined the sidewalks and applauded. It was of course for the horses. Adding two Grampies to something this super does not change anything.

We of course had no knowledge of the town, but we got a good introduction as we followed the horses. This is a whitewashed, somewhat pastel, beach town, with an arena and many pedestrian narrow streets just crammed with ice cream stores, restaurants, souvenirs, and other shops. And of course, over that way is the open Mediterranean!

At the end of town the horses turned around and began a dignified walk back out. We followed them for this too. Then at the entrance of town they turned off the road and disappeared back into the Camargue.

Foals are brown for the first five years

Th black hats and the sticks make up the herders' classic appearance

A horse statue with the church of the Maries in the background

The statue to Sarah, thought by some to be daughter of Jesus

Lots of multiple Mary imagery in the church

The coffins of the Marys are suspended overhead

By the door of the church, the Camargue cross. The plaque mentions that the church was fortified to fend off the sarrasins.

All of the restaurants around, with nice outdoor seating and menus posted on blackboards proved a powerful attraction, and we took a seat at one even before trying to find our hotel. Dodie ordered a local specialty called a Guardianne. It is another version of boeuf bourginon - and very good, with olives enlivening the wine sauce.

I foolishly ordered a steak with fries, being mostly attracted to the fries. As usual I asked for the steak to be well done. It arrived and did look well done, at least the top was brown. But I was surprised not only to find that it was super rare inside (if there is an inside to something with a total thickness of 1/8") but also that the provided steak knife could scarcely cut it. I did manage to hack off a piece and then chewed and chewed, but to no effect.

Even as a polite visitor to this land there was nothing for it. I called the waitress and complained that the thing was shoe leather. Better to bring a stew like dish, like Dodie's. The lady understood and whipped away the offending shoe. But I was still punished by having to wait a further 30 minutes for the stew to arrive. I know that free range grass fed beef tends to be chewy, but this was ridiculous. Next time, if courage is there, I will order moules frites, bouillabase, or paella. Or actually, how about a chicken burger?

Clearly not having had enough fun, we dumped our bags and shot off east along the shoreline, riding a sea dike that lead to the Gacholle lighthouse about 12 km out. The ride had the sea on one side and lagoons on the other. It was easily warm enough so people were wading in the sea and sitting in the sun. A certain number of km down we had left most people behind, but there were still plenty on the trail on bikes. It was gravel all the way, which was ok, except when covered by sand. Then it was a case of getting off and pushing hard.

Salt flat. Large areas of the Camargue are taken up by these

It was along here that we saw the most flamingos. In fact down by the lighthouse is a breeding ground and sanctuary for them. But as we say, we think the main action is still to come.

Rick Steves in his guidebook was fairly dismissive of Les Saintes Maries, comparing it to Coney Island. This is one of the rare spots where Rick got it wrong. With the sea and the Camargue right there, with the white horses right there, with kms of suggested bike excursions all around, with scores of restaurants featuring local specialties, and artisan gelato makers all over, this place was packed with fun and interest.

My souvenir sticker - covers all the bases

The Grampies return to the Mediterranean

Not often seen gelato flavours. I went for chestnut, yumm

The fun continues too, as tomorrow it's back up through the Camargue and over to the walled city of Aigues-Mortes.

Today's ride: 63 km (39 miles)
Total: 998 km (620 miles)

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