Camargue

Having enjoyed the good weather once, we did it again this year, only taking a slightly different itinerary, visiting Aigues Mortes, and then St. Gilles. On the route between, we detoured to the ferry crossing of the Petit Rhône at Bac Sauvage, and to the Parc Ornithologique at Pont de Gau, and assuming there's no Mistral, we'd recommend that route. From St. Gilles, I made a long side trip, via Arles, to Les Baux de Provence (shown here looking south from the crest of the range, with the Rhone delta plain behind the outcrop on which the citadel was built):-

in the Alpilles (inspiration for the town in Robert Westall's The Cats of Seroster), over to St Rémy (where I lunched again at the same excellent crêperie, then back via Tarascon (home of the original tarrasque, for the D&D fans out there), Beaucaire and Bellgarde. [This image has been enlarged from postage-stamp size from a not very good photo, I'm afraid].

On the way from Arles to Les Baux, I nearly got caught in a bull-running event in Fontveille, one of the little towns north of Arles. In fact in late May, the whole area breaks out into bull-fighing and related events, so be warned.

Provence

Having been caught out by the weather last year, the next time we took an activity holiday abroad we headed south for the Provence cycling tour, starting at Nîmes (an easy journey by Eurostar and TGV). From a base south of Nîmes, we headed south to St Gilles which lies on the fringes of the Camargue. I would heartily recommend the Hôtel Le Cours there, for its cheap, filling, and authentic local meals - the 5 course meal for 92fr defeated me every time, even after long side-trips, such as south all the way to the Med at Stes. Maries de la Mer and back.

From St Gilles to Beaucaire, an unremarkable (indeed mildly squalid) little town, enlivened by falconry displays at the castle. They fly traditional hunting birds, owls (as shown here), eagles and even a vulture.

 

From there I also made a side trip to Avignon (that's the famous pont d'Avignon), and thence to St. Rémy de Provence, just north of the Alpilles, and van Gogh's retirement place. I would recommend a little crêperie there, but I can't recall its name.

The final stay was at the Pont du Gard, the famous Roman aqueduct, at the Hôtel Le Colombier (complete with dovecote) just half a mile away from the bridge on the outskirts of the town of Remoulins; and whose exquisite menu I would recommend.

Around the Pont itself, the river runs wide and shallow with sandy beaches suitable for swimming and sunbathing (it doesn't seem to matter to the locals even if you've not got a costume).

While swimming, Karen spotted a watersnake here.

Shen Kuei (3rd June 1983 - 30th Jan 1995)

A pedigree brown Burmese, who escaped from a life as a show cat by a sprinkling of creamy hairs (his mother was a cream Burmese) on one shoulder.

He was a very human-oriented cat, having grown up in a household with children, dogs and other cats, and acquired from his mother the art of opening door handles. Even when confronted with doorknobs, or sliding doors, he managed to achieve his intent by leaping up at the knob and then glaring at the nearest person. Very fixated on Karen, he would rarely allow other cats to share her lap (though he would curl up with any other cat if there was no lap available), and would scold her upon her return if she was away for any reason.

Being a pedigree cat, he also felt that he had no need to prove himself. Of course he was the boss; and of course he could help himself to scraps at any time - he often brought home bits of other peoples' Sunday lunch. Indeed, one time he tried walking off with a joint of lamb from our kitchen, and to dissuade him I doused him with the first thing to hand - the glass of wine I was carrying. He was a very squiffy puss when he'd finished cleaning himself up, and had acquired a taste for wine afterwards.

He remained the center of attention to the end, deciding to show the symptoms of a cancer the day before Karen's birthday, and expiring the following day.

Sologne

This tour started out the same as last year's, getting to the same base at Chitenay.

This tour started by heading east into the Sologne. Alas, while in the previous year, autumnal weather at home turned into summer in France, this time we weren't so lucky. En route to Ferté we went past the Gormenghastian bulk of Chambord (above) - those tiny specks by the gate are people and the windows in the outer wall are about 20 foot tall - on the only good day.

The next day dawned fine, and we headed north to Beaugency on the Loire, where we found an excellent place to lunch, the Crep'zeria (just follow the main street north from the bridge, and it's on the right after no more than 100 yards). Hhere I was befriended by M. Bob, who decided that anyone who gave him the rinds from his ham was a friend for life.

But as we cycled back, the heavens opened. Next day we were at least spared thunderstorms, but there was frequent drizzle and rain. With the temperature having fallen from 21C on arrival to under 10C, the thirty mile journey to Romorantin was highly unpleasant (though we found an excellent place for lunch).

With rain and cold continuing, we didn't go far afield during our stop at Romorantin; just wandered around, with frequent stops for shelter. The main feature I remember of the town is its displays of flowers as pictures or more elaborately such as in this topiary peacock.

Loir et Cher

This tour was based from Chitenay, a small village just south of Blois. We travelled by plane to Paris, then RER and metro to the Gare d'Austerlitz, to catch the train via Orléans to Blois.

The Loire tour went via St Aignan, Montrichard (pictured, on the Cher) and Rilly, (on the Loire), for an 8-night tour, skipping one stop (it differs each year) for a 6-night tour.

August '93 we did the Loire et Cher tour, the shorter version going via Montrichard (right) on the Cher, up to Rilly on the Loire. This tour is geared to chateau visiting, and covers generally easy terrain (the only serious slopes are to be found as you leave the river valleys).

As this was out first tour - and done in a sudden burst of blazing weather at the end of August, we didn't venture too far afield on this tour. The free day at Montrichard we spent heading along the river to the chateau at Chenonceaux, the famous one built across the Loire. On the next day, as the leg to Rilly was only about 10 miles, we made the tour south to the chateau at Montpaupon (pictured) in the first part of the day, spent the heat of the day (3-5pm) on a cruise along the Cher, and only then made the trek to the next night's stay.

At Rilly, we did the obvious day trip to Amboise, where one can visit the house built by Francis I for Leonardo da Vinci on his retirement. The last leg back to base we headed along the Loire, skipping the chateau at Chevignon (we'd rather overdosed on chateaux by this point) crossing to the north through Chouzy-sur-Cisse and into Blois for lunch.

Cycling in France

On and off since the early 1990s, we've taken holidays in France, cycling in civilised fashion with Belle France, a Kent based holiday company doing walks and cycling holidays in France and elsewhere. The civilised nature is enhanced by the fact that they are one of the operators who carry your luggage from hotel to hotel, so all you have to do is carry lunch.

Above is the Chateau of Montpaupon, situated south of the Cher, towards the Indre. This chateau is one the many in the region that are open to visitors (indeed you can easily chat-overdose in the part of the world). To reach it from Montrichard, you can simply follow the main road south; but the route we used was to head west along the Cher to the next town with a crossing, taking the fairly steep climb out of the river valley on quiet (i.e. essentially deserted) country lanes. The picture was taken on our approach, as the side road neared the main road; we then took that route back to Montrichard. This was a quick side-tour from the Loire and Cher package.

Omitted here are short breaks from 2000 in Lille (at Easter - much rain; main sight of interest is the little art deco shop-front designed by the same chap who did the famous Paris Metro signs); and cycling in the Dordogne, based out of Souillac with a drop-off and cycle-back model. This was also wet - I made the mistake of going the week of Bastille Day, and after some rehearsals, the heavens opened for the public holiday, drowning the mass picnic along the Paris meridian (when the lift arrived, j'ai dit "Non!" ) - and the terrain seemed harder going than the Auvergne in terms of ups and downs. Plus poorly written directions and the interrupted construction of a motorway through the region contributed to getting lost enough to swear to take a GPS unit the next time. I never got as far as joining the queues at Lascaux. Overall, the region was too touristified - I could hardly find anywhere to at that wasn't just offering a menu touristique with the inevitable steak frites. But it does do good foie gras...

Our pied à terre for Paris stopovers was the Hôtel Flor Rivoli, in the Rue Deux Boules, just off the Rue Rivoli, close by the Pont Neuf, and the Tuilleries, including the Museum of the Louvre, with the modern glass pyramids. The queue for entry shows how popular it is. And it closes all day one day near the beginning of the week. Consequently, we've never actually ventured inside.

Petra — the lost city

To miss the general election in 1992 we took a tour to Petra, catching it before the peace agreement that let in floods of Israeli holidaymakers. The siq, the passage from modern the town of Wadi Musa to the ruins of Petra, is a dry river bed as you can see here. But in developing it for Israeli tourists, it's now been covered in sand to help ease the route down, and the rest over-commercialised.

Given that Jordan's only oil output comes from olive trees, the lust for hard currency is not surprising, but when the price of entry rockets from 1 dinar (about one pound sterling) to 20 dinars, you can only agree that Petra is now doing what it has always traditionally done, and doing very well in separating travellers from distant lands from their money.

Following 9-11, and Gulf War II, Jordan is again a spot of calm in a troubled region, and is suffering for the troubles of its neighbours. The law of supply and demand has struck — now that Petra, and the other sites like Jerash, are near deserted, the entry price for Petra has almost been halved. '03-'04 may be a window for the adventurous to see the sights without being swamped.

The first glimpse of the Treasury at the end of the Siq

The Treasury at the end of the Siq and from the open area just beyond the Siq.

In the late '90s it would have been swarming with crowds of hawkers, offering everything from Coca-Cola to camel rides.

Beyond the Treasury, heading into the center of the city.

Eventually the wadi opens out, and there are more of the buildings, and a Roman amphitheatre carved into the left hand side. Further yet, and the river bed opens into a wide space, maybe 500 yards across, with many more such carved buildings in the cliff sides, bare rectangular boxes behind ornate carvings, with the beautiful texture of the different colours of the sandstone layers often hidden by the soot from where the local Bedouin have continued to camp, despite the government provided housing nearby.

In the open, there are free-standing Roman ruins, a column, and such; and modern work to canalise the river.

The monastery at el De'ir. They've added steps to the steep climb up to this site, which is on the far side of the open area of the main city; and also up to the left of this structure. When we went there, there were only a couple of the locals in a small carved cave (behind the photographer), selling souvenirs and drinks. My father exercised his rusty Arabic from National Service days, and after being kidded for his Egyptian accent, we were invited to share their lunch — a bannock cooked on the floor, where a fire had been set, and covered with its ash. With sage-spiced hot tea, it was wonderful.

They also did a good line in jewelry, at reasonable cost (only a few dinars for an intricately worked pair of ear-rings), which we bought to show our appreciation. We cringed later when some upper class couple turned up and started haggling over such petty prices "because they expect it, dear."

Me wearing the kuffiya.

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More Jordan pictures

• Siq and Treasury
• El Deir and Kerak