Day 80 – to Eygalières

I was headed for the Chaîne des Alpilles, a small range of mountains in Provence, recommended by the friends that I will see later in the week. I had a couple of hours driving this morning, then a relief, as for the next week there will be very little driving.

The mountains stand out impressively, despite their tallest fellow being a paltry 498 metres. They are about 25 km in length, and just a few km wide. Typical of the area, they are arid limestone peaks, amidst dry valleys. I thought to wander on the west side today, and the eastern, tomorrow. I parked a kilometre or so above Les Baux-de-Provence, a village dominated by its ruined castle on a rocky outcrop, and completely picturesque, so much so, that it attracts many tourists, even on a cold November morning. Visitors’ cars are limited to the outside of the village, and charged heavily for the privilege (rather like the Lakes I guess..). But I was a bit further out, so no charge, and very few people, just a few electric cyclists, and a couple of walkers. I’ve been haunting GR6 quite a bit on this journey, and put together a route today out of which at least half was on that epic track.

My plan after lunch was to stop at the village of Eygalières, on the north eastern side of the diminutive range. It looked an attractive village, and had a decent sized car park for overnighting. Even if I wanted a campsite in these parts, they have all closed at the end of October. It does make laundry difficult, and showering only outside of course, but on the plus side, there are practically no visitors around.

I was keen to eat out. The village boasts several good restaurants, and the last time I had been in a restaurant was in Carrapateira, in the south of Portugal. The culture of restaurant eating is so different in France, in the time they open (most close just as their Spanish counterparts are opening), and their welcome for dogs. Dogs are not allowed inside Spanish restaurants, should you even try, the assembled drinkers and eaters look strangely at you. The opposite is almost the case in France; strange looks if you don’t have a dog. Luigi’s was extremely welcoming on a cold evening, and Roja had a fuss made of him by many people, not least the chef, or an open kitchen, who came over and gave him some scraps at one stage. I never feed him when I am eating, and he has grown to learn that. It’s one of the attractive aspects of his behaviour that endear him to people in bars, he would never go looking for anything. But what can you do if the chef offers? It was a really good meal in a very friendly place, though we are back at prices like home..