Two days after my return from Lake Placid—with barely enough time to get a haircut and pack my luggage—I was once again back on the way to the Lubbock airport. By now, the gate agents know me by name and wonder where I am taking the bike this time around (or in those rare cases, why I don't schlepp the RITCHEY), and I joke around with some of the TSA crew. My outbound itinerary took me on AA metal to DFW and from there to Philadelphia for a direct onward connection to Nice. Nice! 😅
Upon arrival I eventually managed to navigate the somewhat strangely laid-out airport and found the rental car counter. I picked up a Renault that was large enough to give me fits parking but that also held my assembled Outback without needing to remove even the front wheel. It was an upgrade that I had not expected, and the large dimensions of the car meant that I left it parked upon arrival at the three different Airbnbs that I had booked. Just like most hotel rooms in Europe, parking spaces are tiny, and especially underground garages with their concrete pillars are frightening. To play spoiler: I managed to keep the car free of most scratches (there was a plastic bollard that jumped out at me in a tight intersection and left a mark that the rental clerk didn't notice when I returned the vehicle).
I spent the first three days in a condo just west of Fréjus, in Saint-Aygulf. It was only about a 90-minute drive from the airport, and the gregarious owner of the place, JeanLou, was waiting for me (and parked the car in the catacombs for me—thanks, my friend!). The apartment, albeit being small, was ideal as it overlooked the Mediterranean just a few blocks away, had an elevator big enough to accommodate the bike, and was within a hundred meters or so of a supermarket, a bakery, and several restaurants. People always want to know how much it costs to rent such a place, and obviously there are numerous factors to consider. Since my trip took place in the shoulder season, I paid for the three nights $249, including all the taxes and fees; my other two rentals were either the same or, for the weeklong cottage in Provence, significantly cheaper at about $65 a night, inclusive of all fees.
From a weather perspective this was one of three days of the entire trip that really stood out. The clarity of the atmosphere, the ochre colors of the homes, the green of the forests, the deep blue sky, and the glistening Mediterranean were almost too much. It was a spectacular day, and I enjoyed every minute of it. The number of sailboats in the bay where St. Tropez is located was staggering. There's so much money down here, rivaling only Cannes and Monaco. 
In St. Tropez I slowly rode in the fairly crowded pedestrian zone that Old Town has been declared. Quite frankly, I wouldn't want to come down here in the high season. It was rather busy thanks to being a Saturday, but in the summer this must be a veritable zoo. Being on the bike has the advantage that you don't have to worry about finding a parking spot, and it allows you to bypass some areas quicker than an automobilist could ever hope to.
Overnight, the weather changed significantly, and I didn't see the sun for the entire ride that, on day two, took me east along the coast, toward Cannes. This part of the coastline is rougher, with significant hills rising up almost immediately from the shore. Thankfully, the French are good road engineers, and most of the grades were easy and pleasant to ride, despite some strong winds. There's no comparison to the mountains that I had encountered in Albania, that's for sure. 
I rode as far as Théoule, another one of the many quaint fishing towns that have become so attractive to tourists. In the far distance, on the other side of the bay, I could see Cannes. I think it'd be really cool to start riding from France's border with Spain all the way to Monaco, just with a credit card and a spare kit. Judy and I rode some of that back in 1990 on the tandem, fully loaded, and we had a wonderful time. Maybe sometime in the future....
After three nights in Fréjus it was time for JeanLou to unpark the Renault and me to drive to Le Lavandou, maybe two hours west and still on the coast. The weather was fall-like but mostly dry, and after establishing myself in a tiny, non-descript apartment I went for a short 21-miler in the general area of this sleepy port. I had hoped to visit a microbrewery, but this brasserie artesanal turned out to simply be a production facility without a tasting- or tap-room. Another spoiler: On this trip I didn't add a single new brewery to my list.
I have been trying to find out why the water in various fountains in Le Lavandou was running red, but despite the all-knowing Mr. Google and numerous questions posed to locals I could not find an answer. Knowing the French, it most likely is some form of protest, similar to the upside-down city limit signs. But it did look cool!
For dinner I had a very tasty octopus fricassee in one of the few restaurants that were open. After having traveled in Albania just weeks before where one can buy an outstanding meal that includes a bottle of better-than-decent wine for no more than €12 to €15, the prices for going out in France were real shockers. Expect to pay a minimum of twice as much, but more likely three times, when eating in even very simple local eateries; it didn't take much to pay €45 to €55 for tapas for two in the afternoon. A children's mid-day menu often goes for north of €15. Grocery store prices were equally high and I simply closed my eyes and handed over my German debit card and pretended it was all just Monopoly money.
Provence must be one of the best places where I have ever ridden a bike, one of the reasons why I had wanted to come back here. There are so many tiny roads and paths that one could easily hit the same towns on five consecutive days but take different routes leading from one to the next. The terrain is mostly flat (on our 41-mile ride to Orange we had all of 715 feet of elevation gain), but one can also climb without venturing onto the slopes of Mont Ventoux (Day One saw us climb 2,427 feet in 42 miles). This mighty mountain with an elevation gain of about 5,200 feet, depending from which direction one tackles it, rises from the surrounding plains, and its imposing presence is visible from many miles away. On our last ride—a sunny albeit somewhat hazy day thanks to much atmospheric moisture—we rode in between the much lower Dentelles range and the Géant de Provence, with amazing views of both.
In 2016, I had ridden to the top of the Ventoux, not too long after my aFib adventures and beta blockers still coursing though my system. I called the ascent the "Bataan Death March" in my blog, describing how the mountain humiliated me but how I did make it to the top (6,266 feet). Sabine had wisely decided to drive to the summit, and neither of us has had any designs of a first or second ascent ever since, so we left the giant alone. Been there, done it, no need to suffer any more.
The roads of Provence are a mixed bag when it comes to their state of maintenance. Some roads are quite smooth, yet many others are simply a patchwork of holes and bumps. The same goes for the narrow paths that barely have the width of a tractor, so one has to be on constant alert to avoid nasty surprises. A welcome exception to this comes in the form of several "rails-to-trails" cycling paths on retired railroad beds. They are in pristine condition, with baby-butt-smooth asphalt and safe crossings of intersecting automotive infrastructure. Needless to say, they also feature very gentle grades.
Some of our rides took us on routes that we thought we had covered in 2016 (that trip preceded our being Strava users), but this time we did not ride in the Luberon or visit Les Alpilles. We left both cars parked and started all of our rides from the Airbnb. In five days of riding (not counting my supermarket- day excursion when I arrived in Carpentras, which presented day six of being on the bike) we covered 196 miles, a number that would have been higher had the weather been benign the entire time. (On the Côte d'Azur I had accumulated 144 miles in four days.) Our average speed was slow, very slow (on some days less than 10 mph), but with all the photo stops and forgetting to turn off Strava while having a leisurely lunch one can't expect much more.
On the day when the forecast called for a 90% chance of rain we decided to leave the bikes parked and drive to Avignon, which is just about half an hour by car from Carpentras. The city seemed almost deserted, with few tourists milling around and more than half of the shops closed. We were surprised by the inordinate number of theaters that call Avignon home, all of them taking their seasonal break. It did indeed start to sprinkle, but we stayed mostly dry by visiting the Palais des Papes, the huge Gothic palace where the anti-popes of the 14th and 15th centuries kept their residence. A very interesting place.
The world-famous Pont d'Avignon is located just a a few minutes away from the palace. Its official name is Pont Saint-Bénézet, and part of the visit provides a good historical overview of how bridges were built almost 1,000 year ago and why this one has only four arches remaining and now stops halfway across the Rhône. To get the full view of the bridge it makes sense to go to an adjacent modern (and complete!) bridge and look at it from afar.
We found one of the few open restaurants and sat under one of those huge European umbrellas while it rained, enjoying late-afternoon tapas. The rain was only a precursor of what would hit southern France two days later, when Sabine was already on the way back home to Freising and I was navigating the by-roads to the airport in Nice. Météo-France issued orange- and red-level flood warnings, and I started to get a bit worried about land- and rock-slides while driving through the Verdun and the Pre-Alpes. The river Var was wallowing along in an angry, black mass, and I was glad when I had dropped off the car and was safely in my airport hotel, the Crown Plaza (which featured a generous Happy Hour in the executive lounge while outside it continued to be extremely unpleasant). That day, several people were killed in France due to flooded rivers, something that we seem to hear about more and more often.
Wrapping things up, this was an enjoyable trip to one of my favorite cycling destinations in the world. The fact that Sabine could join me was an extra bonus since the lack of restaurants near the Airbnb in Carpentras and the need to prepare meals in the cottage would have meant unnecessarily solitary evenings. 
