INTERNATIONAL TRAVEL : Freewheeling in French Countryside

We are living out a fantasy. Got off the plane at Nice, unpacked and assembled our bikes, strapped on the saddlebags and pedaled off into the Mediterranean sunrise to begin a four-week vacation in southern France.

As my partner Kathy and I rode down the Boulevard des Anglais, between the legendary resort hotels of Nice on the one side and the blue Mediterranean on the other, we made a quick decision: a refreshing plunge into the cool water before we cycled on to the railway station.

The train took us west past the long, crowded, sun-soaked beaches of the Cote d’Azur to Marseille, where we changed for Aix-en-Provence and the final leg of our journey, a small village called Luynes, just south of Aix.

When we arrived at our apartment the landlady brought over cold meat, fresh fruits and vegetables from her garden, bread, cheese and a bottle of wine. The market would be open the next day, she said. We were hungry, sleepy, grateful.

We had found this one-bedroom apartment, which rented for the astonishing price of $113 a week, by writing to the Syndicat d’Initiative in Aix and asking for rental listings, then corresponding directly with the owner, Jean Urbach.

Ideal for Day Trips

During our first week in Provence we made several spectacular day trips into the countryside. A regional Michelin map enabled us to travel exclusively on quiet back-country roads.

One day we pedaled out to the Montagne St. Victoire, about 10 kilometers east of Aix, and compared the real mountain with the Cezanne painting we had seen in New York.

The real mountain appeared more stark, abrupt; but to see the countryside was to appreciate the origin of the Cezanne palette, the strong reddish-brown earthen colors.

We were lucky to have the first week to strengthen our legs on the hills around Aix and to experience the fierce afternoon sun in Provence. Lucky because I was no Greg LeMond, having bought my bike two years before at the age of 54 and prepared for the trip by riding around Central Park a few times on weekends.

Morning for Moving

We quickly found that the best strategy was to bike in the morning--explore, swim and rest in the afternoon.

The second week we were on the road, free to chart whatever course we wanted between Luynes and our next destination, about 45 kilometers north of Avignon. We set an easy pace, 40 to 50 kilometers a day, stayed on the quiet back roads and biked only in the morning.

Hilltop Village

The first day we set out west to St. Chamas, then north to Salon de Provence, taking time for a side trip to the village of Cornillon atop a small mountain that rises abruptly from the plains.

The village seems to grow out of the top of the mountain; two- and three-story stone houses encircle the summit, with windows and balconies that open onto long views of the plains.

The narrow cobblestone streets are silent and we feel we are 600 years from New York. I see a couple sitting on the balcony of their apartment sipping morning coffee, looking casually out over 100 kilometers of French countryside.

The perfect place to spend a year in France, I say, but Kathy demurs: What about the winter winds?

The second day we pedaled across the plains from Salon de Provence to Arles, with one detour to the mountain village of Les Baux, another arduous climb but again repaid with a grand view and a wild ride down the other side of the mountain.

Elixir of Freedom

To travel out into the open country on a bicycle is to realize a wonderful lack of constraint--the freedom, the feeling of sun and wind on your face and the stir of sedentary muscles in your legs.

In Arles, on the Rue des Arenes behind the old Roman arena, we discovered an incredible restaurant, L’Hostellerie, which served a four-course dinner for $20 for two, wine and tip included.

Generally, restaurants are not cheap in France, but when we took the time to look, we could find an excellent meal every evening for $20 to $25.

Turning to the Sun

From Arles we had an easy day’s ride northeast to St. Remy, through magnificent fields of sunflowers. The French word for sunflower, tournesol, translates as “turn to the sun,” and that is what these six- and seven-foot flowers do.

As we pedaled along a road, to our right was an immense field of sunflowers in which every blossom was turned in our direction--millions of big, smiling, sunflower faces. But across the road to our left, millions of others were turned resolutely away.

Friendly and Curious

The farther we got into the country the more warm our affair with Provence became. The people grew more friendly, more encouraging of our painstaking French, more curious about us and about the United States.

In Carpentras, a French agricultural center that attracts few tourists, we found the Hotel L’Univers, overlooking the town square, for $19 a night.

We found good lodging in most towns for $25 to $30 a night, sometimes with swimming pool. Each town also had a public pool that we often used in the afternoons.

On the ride from Carpentras to Vaison we had to climb several kilometers up through a pass between two mountains. But by this time I had never felt better in my life and I simply put the bike in low gear, set an easy pace uphill and thought about living in Cornillon for a year.

Cherry Country

As we rode out into the valley we found ourselves in cherry country, large orchards laden with ripe fruit. We stopped under trees that overhung the shoulder of the road and sampled the sweet, delicious cherries--reminiscent of the Bing cherries of the U.S. Northwest.

For the third week in France we rented a lovely one-bedroom apartment for $130 a week that was attached to a country home near the village of St. Alexandre.

We had written to the Syndicat in Pont St. Esprit, received listings on rentals and made a potluck choice. We not only got a lovely apartment in the country but also met a couple who showed us every courtesy and hospitality.

From our apartment we could see across a vast stretch of the fertile Rhone Valley to Mt. Ventoux about 60 kilometers east. The River Ardeche was to the north, the river Ceze to the south.

Open-Air Market

The nearest town with supplies was Pont St. Esprit 10 kilometers away. There we really discovered the open-air market--a cornucopia of farm-fresh vegetables and fruits, cheeses, meats, poultry, pastry, bread, olives, herbs, olive oil.

The smells alone made the trip worthwhile, but we also loaded up our saddlebags and pumped home with a small treasure.

By staying in one apartment for a week we could explore the area in detail and return to the comfort of a familiar bed each night. No packing and unpacking every day.

We biked over to the Ardeche River twice, along country roads suggested by our hosts, past orchards of ripening pears, peaches, apples, plums, cherries, and past acres of melons, grapes.

One day we swam in the Ardeche, the next we took a canoe trip 26 kilometers down a river that snaked through cliffs rising several thousand feet on both sides.

Unfortunately, we chose the wrong kind of boat, a canoe instead of a flat-bottomed kayak, and we capsized twice in heavy rapids. We were shaken, but fortunately unhurt.

The Ceze River has eroded through a massive rock formation at La Roque sur Ceze to form a scenic wonder as well as a popular swimming area.

Rapids and Recesses

The water races and whirls through the rocks but also forms quiet pools and recesses ideal for swimming. French youths dive from high rocks into these deep pools.

After our swim we biked home through several quiet villages where women still wash clothes in the square, while up the street a BMW sits outside a renovated medieval house.

Between villages I was struck by the vastness of the vineyards around me, the prodigious capacity of the country to produce wine--like corn in Iowa, in every direction, as far as we could see.

During our last week in France we only used our bikes one day, to travel from Marseille to Cassis.

The road climbed for seven kilometers up a mountain, at the top of which we saw the countless red-tiled roofs of Marseille in the distance; and then it descended continuously for seven kilometers down the other side, dropping precipitously for the final descent into the picturesque village of Cassis, which clings to the edge of a beautiful natural harbor.

We swam in the Mediterranean and languished in the sun for several days before taking the train to Nice and our flight home.

In all we spent 15 of 28 days in France on bikes and each day challenged us in new ways, made demands that were not always welcome, required resilience that was not always there; but each day was also a discovery of something new to see and hear and feel and learn. Each day was an adventure.

When we were planning the vacation, we had debated long and hard whether to rent a car or bring our bikes. In retrospect, that we had had any doubt about the decision seems amazing.

For further information, contact French Government Tourist Office, 9401 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 840, Beverly Hills 90212.