Le Mistral Commence

It began to get a bit cool and windy on Saturday afternoon. Sunday morning in our valley, however, seemed fine. Rosanna wanted to ride her bike to the L’Isle sur la Sorgue market. I was going to go along, but then I recalled how crowded that market is and that I had no cleat covers with me so I did not fancy clip-clopping along in my bike shoes on those cobbles. I rode with her as far as the Pernes-les-Fontaines cut-off and then I headed in that direction. I must say, we simply flew down towards Carpentras, which I only later realized was, in addition to being a downhill journey, also a wind-assisted one.

In any event, I went to Pernes-les-Fontaines and then to St. Didier and then to Venasque, which is perched on the Plateau de Vaucluse and is a very popular town with artists. There are many galleries and one good restaurant, where I had lunch and they put my bike in the cave. I had the French version of a ploughman’s lunch, which included some chevres and some pate and also two delicious-smelling little grilled balls, sort of like meatballs, but a bit more irregular (frankly lumpy) in shape. They were highly spiced minced meat wrapped in some sort of membrane and grilled, and I now think they are the famous regional dish – pieds et paquets. I am not sure I would order them specifically, but they were fine washed down with a little rose.

After lunch I took a notion to ride to Methamis and from there toward Sault until I got to the road that cuts over to Monieux and the beginning of the Gorge de la Nesque. After two hours of solid uphill, I decided to cut my losses and turn around. Had I gone all the way to Sault I think it would have been a 30km uphill. That is not really my cup of tea (although I do know someone who might like it). When I returned to Methamis I headed towards Mormoiron and from there towards Flassan. That was a bit of a mistake as it took me further east than was optimal. Also, the road was devoid of shade and it was by now quite warm, and it was uphill north, which was unfortunately the direction from which the Mistral (having now picked up a bit of energy) blows. What a tedious 7 km. From Flassan I fairly flew along to Bedoin. I would like to say I scampered nimbly up the hill to home, but I must confess it was not that nimble.