We each have longer outings planned for the afternoon so we have lunch at noon to give us a wider window for them afterwards. We’ve booked a table for ourselves at Le Carnot Set, the place we’d intended to eat the day we arrived in Apt if only it had been open for business then. We eat well, I having the roast duck with a morel sauce and Rachael the fish of the day: cabaillaud buried in a mountain of colorful fresh veggies. Afterwards we step outside and go next door to pick up huge ice cream cones, enjoying them sitting in the market square in the warm sun beneath the golden dome of the cathedral until Rachael says she’s had enough and we walk back to the apartment so she can put the remaining half of hers in the freezer for later.
I spent a fair amount of time this morning trying to find a walking route for Rachael before settling on one I thought she’d like: a hike and climb north to the summit of Mourre Blanc, a small knoll that rises above the surroundings enough so that she should get some fine views from there; and on the way back I included a detour to Gargas to give her a look at the Brouox ochre mine.
After drawing this up I realized I must have biked right beneath Mourre Blanc yesterday to see if I had unknowingly taken a shot of it that I could show her. I hadn’t, but looking back again reminded me of this shot:
The entrance to Combe du Font Jouvale forms a gap in the range to the north.
I’d meant to study the map when I got back to see if there’s a road through this gap and where it might lead to, so I did so now and was excited to see that I could bike there through a manageable loop that would take me to the far side of the range and then bring me back past Roussillon. it looks like it could be a spectacular ride, with the name Combe du Font Jouvale bringing to mind the fabulous rides in the Vercors. 26 miles with a modest climb up the combe felt within my range at the moment, so I toss out the other ideas I had for the day and settle on this one.
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I leave about three, uncharacteristically the first one out the door. I’ve got four hours so I only need to maintain a 6.5 mph average to get back before sunset. Shouldn’t be a problem I’m thinking, but four miles into the ride I’m slowed down when I come to the Brouox ochre mines that I’d mapped Rachael to. I hadn’t even noticed I’d be going past them myself, but as long as I’m here of course I have to stop for my own look.
Ochre mining was a significant industry in the Luberons until after the Second World War, when natural pigments were replaced by chemistry. The Brouox mines must be a unique sight, with an astonishing forty kilometers of tunnels cut into its formation for the miners and truckers who extracted the ore.
The place is a tourist attraction, with a guided tour available that takes you inside and through about a kilometer of these tunnels. That sounds worth seeing but isn’t an option for me this afternoon, but I’m happy to spend a few minutes staring at the amazing face of the mines with its deep, narrow entrance into the cliff face reminding me of the niches where the enormous Buddhas of Bamiyan stood for over 2,500 years before the Taliban destroyed them.
The face of the Brouox ochre mines. It’s hard to imagine that there are forty kilometers of tunnels behind that wall. The diagram I saw made it look like one of the ant farms I kept as a child.
A tour has just ended while I’m standing there. They all walked into the parking lot wearing yellow hard hats (I think they must come out one of the back entrances) and then went up to the face again for photographs.
That puts me a little behind schedule, so I pick up the pace a bit biking toward the entrance to the combe. I can see it off in the distance early in the ride but after that it’s blocked by hills most of the time until all of a sudden I round a corner and I’m right there at the entrance.
Houses near the mine have the same characteristic coloring that you see in the other ochre villages, especially Roussillon.
I won’t say that the Combe comes as a disappointment, but it’s a pretty modest feature that doesn’t begin to compare with the stunning gorges of of the Vercors. It does have some nice exposed cliff faces though and it’s an enjoyable lazy climb up to the top. I’ve got the road to myself in this wild, quiet place, being passed by only a single car on the way up.
I’m not quite at the top of the climb yet when I come out the top end of the Combe and to a junction with the road coming in from Saint-Saturnin in the east. That road looks like it would be great to explore by bike also, and I’m really getting quite impressed with what a good base for rides and hikes Apt could be. Like Saint-Rémy, it’s a spot with enticing roads and trails radiating out in all directions.
I like this - it feels like I’ve found a back door into the Sault Plateau.
So I’m on the back side now of the northern range hemming in the Luberon’s valley. It has a completely different feel up here about a thousand feet above Apt. I continue climbing for a couple hundred feet more over the next few miles, stopping often to marvel at the views of the striking cliffs on this side, with grassy meadows and rows of lavender running up to their base. To one side there’s a small flock of sheep sweetly grazing, with a shepherd sitting on a nearby rock and his dog keeping a wary eye on me. I stop for a few photos but when the dog starts barking and running in my direction it’s time to move on.
The last bit of the climb cutting through an oak forest is on the steep side - maybe 10%; but once I drop down the other side it’s a much steeper descent on a rough, narrow lane that I have to take slowly. I’ve definitely come the right direction on this loop. But after this comes the stunning surprise of the day. I’d been looking forward to seeing the Combe, but the real show is here - a long, long sheer cliff that I bike right beneath for the next two miles. It really is stunning, and makes me think I’ve been transported back to Zion National Park.
So that isn’t great for my time budget though. I’d planned on making good time on this long descent but it’s nearly as slow going dropping down as climbing up because I stop so often for another look.
Dropping through Lioux, a tiny village plastered against the cliffs.
Finally I’m past that, and not too far behind schedule. I’ve still got 12 miles to go in only an hour and a half, so I pick up the pace and don’t stop often for photos for the rest of the way back to town - even for famously scenic Roussillon, which is really too much in the evening shadows by the time I get there anyway.
Looking up at the back side of Roussillon, on the right.
Once again what saves me is that the final seven miles are largely downhill, until I come to the EV8 and have a safe couple of miles on the bike path the rest of the way to town. And I do well - it’s only 6:55 when I make it back to our apartment, a full five minutes earlier than yesterday.
Rachael is just walking up our alley when I pull up at our door. Perfect timing, since she has the key. If she were already home I’d have to phone her and have her walk down the four flights of stairs to let me in. I knew she was near here because I’ve been tracking her on the Garmin and saw that she arrived about fifteen minutes earlier. In the meantime she shopped around for a couple of pastries for me and a cold drink for herself.
Her hike ended up being much different than what I mapped out for her. She never made it up to Mourre Blanc and its presumably spectacular views, because when she came to it the trail looked like too much of a rough scramble. Instead she took the spur over to the ochre mine; and once she was there she kept walking - around the perimeter of the mine and down a golden red, dusty truck trail to one of the back entrances. it ended up being an excellent walk for her, and her longest hike since we left England. And she came home with what’s probably her favorite shadow-selfie yet.
Alongside a small recreational lake about a mile north of Apt.
