September 29, 1993
To Greoux-les-Bains
This was one of the loveliest days on a bike that I have ever experienced. We awoke this morning to a perfectly clear sky and to frost on the ground. After breakfast at the inn, we bundled up snugly and ventured out into the cold morning air for the climb up to the Grand Canyon of the Verdun. The gorge is aptly named - it is utterly spectacular, with sheer grey cliffs dropping a thousand feet on both sides to the bright green Verdun far below. The road on the south bank (la rive gauche), which we followed, hugs the rim amazingly closely for about twenty miles, affording a seemingly unending procession of tremendous viewpoints.
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Progress was very slow, with frequent stops to enjoy the view, take photographs or change layers of clothing. It took us nearly four hours to cover somewhat more than twenty miles. There could hardly have been a better day for the ride - perfect visibility; colorful forests beginning to yellow with the advent of autumn; and for at least the first few hours, practically no traffic. By late morning the volume picked up though, and the first tour buses appeared. At one memorable spot, we watched a parade of four of these monsters negotiate an extremely tight 200 degree hairpin, with no margin for error whatsoever.
From a high point of 1200 meters, we dropped sharply to the pretty village of Aiguines, where we snacked by the side of the road and looked down on Lac Sainte Croix far below. Continuing on from there, we coasted most of the way to the very picturesque village of Moustiers-Ste-Mairie at the head of the lake. The village has a number of noteworthy features. It straddles a stream which cuts a deep cleft through the community - and it is overarched by a church and ruins high above town, in the gap between two sharp, rabbit eared peaks.
We stopped for a meal in Moustiers, and also for an enjoyable visit with another visitor from America (from Atlanta) and his French wife. John Hill is also an avid biker, and interested in organizing tours through France. Interestingly, his brother lives in our town, Salem; and he grew up on Mercer Island.
The last twenty miles were an almost effortless cruise downstream along the Colostre River, past a series of villages, through lavender fields (already harvested; lavender is the principal crop here) to Greaux. We arrived about 6 - just in time for a meal, which we enjoyed ata sidewalk creperie.
Today's ride: 88 km (55 miles)
Total: 1,709 km (1,061 miles)
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