We arrived as the ferry was coming in and she was quite impressive looking. The roll off, roll on was quick and it wasn’t long before we were settled in and I was digging into a lovely cooked breakfast. Iain, of course, did not partake…just in case!
It was actually a very smooth crossing. We have been super blessed with all of our crossings. What a great ship though. I was very impressed with the facilities and apart from being told to take my feet off the furniture (!) we had a good sail. I spent the time catching up with the blog and photos while Iain read. He is up to page 200 now, quite the achievement for him, he’s been reading it for seven weeks now!

Arriving in Toulon, we disembarked and headed straight to the BMW Mottorad dealer there for some oil in preparation for the next oil change planned for when we get back to my parents. Really helpful and friendly staff They were interested in our journey and showed me some motorcycle travel planning sites to help us plan for our next adventure.

Officially listed as one of the most beautiful villages in France, Moustiers is dramatically situated below two cliffs in the Regional Park of Verdon. Typically Provençal and looking rather like a nativity scene with the big gold star hanging above it, the village is full of charm with narrow streets and little squares to wander through, refreshing fountains, pottery workshops and cute boutiques. The town is dominated by the imposing Lombard Romanesque bell tower of Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption church. A spring flows out of the cliff creating a waterfall and providing water power as the waters cascade down through the center of the town

After a quick wash and change, it was time to venture out for some supper. Jean-Phillipe had advised us on the best route into town. A ten minute walk he said. Of course, we looked at the map and decided we could see a quicker way. I mean, why would we bother to listen to the man who has lived there for years and has advised innumerable people on how to get there?!?! Our “short cut” ended up being an extremely steep incline and we were about to pass out by the time we finally got to level ground again!

Anyway, as the heat was beginning to rise, we hopped back on the bike and started up to explore the fabulous roads that wind around the “Gorges du Verdon”, or the “Grand Canyon of Europe” as it has been nicknamed.

Brilliant riding! Starting on the north side of the Gorges, we followed the route des Gorges from Moustiers to Castellane.

 

Thought of as the most stunning side of the canyon, at times, the valley plunges 700 meters (2,300 feet). The roads were not too busy and we were able to zip around at a good speed enjoying the twists, turns and bends to our hearts content. We passed through, across and, at times, under some towering rock formations. The views were spectacular at the beginning and end of the route, though in the middle the road loops away from the deepest part of the gorges.

There was a bit of a blip in the ride when a bloody wasp flew in my helmet! I think I behaved incredibly calmly, politely asking Iain to stop the bike before freaking the hec out and whipping off my helmet faster than you’d think possible, ejecting said wasp and feeling extremely thankful that it hadn’t stung me!

That evening was the French/Belgium football semifinal. We ate out and joined the French to cheer on their team for the first half, then raced back to the Airbnb for the 2nd half with Jean-Phillipe and his partner although they really didn’t seem bothered about it all, continuing about the house with their chores while Iain and I cheered and whooped (sedately) from the couch!

We rode through loads tiny hamlets, cute villages and small towns, waving at the folks along the way and stopping in here and there at the cafes which were always set in the heart of the towns and the center of life in otherwise quiet, sleepy communities.

Riding through these towns and villages, you can feel the history oozing out of every structure. It was really amazing to ride through and I would wonder about the stories that lay behind the walls. The families that have lived there and how their lives have evolved and changed over the years as “progress” reaches these isolated areas. The buildings have seen so much, experiencing various conflicts and two world wars, fought on their very doorsteps. They say “the walls have ears”, I wish they could speak too and share their memories.

Our night in between was spent in Clermont-Ferrand. Nothing super special, just a handy half way point but we found a good Irish Bar to eat and watch the England/Croatia semifinal. There really wasn’t much atmosphere so at half time we hot footed it back to the hotel where the manager had earlier assured us that they would be playing the game on a big screen.
In fairness, they were, but it was tucked away in a side conference room and it was just the two of us in there as we watched the second half. So much for that atmosphere we were seeking! In the end it was probably good we were alone…what a disappointing end. We had to face the truth; it wasn’t coming home 🙁

The second day, as we started to turn slightly south west, the scene changed again to more crop and dairy farming and the cows eyed us lazily as we zipped on past them while the harvesters were out cutting and baling the hay and the corn rose up high towards the sun!