If you are one of the few people who has been reading this blog from the start, you may remember that early on in the trip we lost a day on a coat rescue mission when we left a waterproof jacket at a campsite in the Netherlands. I have to admit, sitting at that train station waiting for Jack to recover his coat was one of the most boring afternoons I’ve had in a while. So you’d think, you’d really think that we would be careful to not let it happen again. Well surprise! We have not just left something important at a campsite once in the past week, oh no. We have left things at campsites three times in the past week. Admitting it now is of course pretty embarrassing and makes me want to hit my head on a table but at this point you really just have to laugh. On the first occasion we (Jack) left our battery pack and all our phone cables. Luckily, our phones had plenty of juice and so we checked for trains back to the campsite and managed to lose only about 2 hours and no sleep while rescuing the battery pack. The next two forgettings are nicely linked. We (Jack) left our amazing elasticated and twisted washing line and then two days later we (mainly Jack) left our washing powder and the sink plug which we had spent a very long time searching for when we bought it initially. We didn’t deem these items ‘rescue-worthy’ and so have left them for the lucky campers who use our space after us. We managed to buy replacement string for a makeshift washing line and after some supermarket hunting, bought another sink plug. And what’s the lesson learn by all this? That’s right! Absolutely nothing. We still don’t have a checklist of things to remember when we leave a campsite because, very ironically, we keep forgetting to make one. Last night we even left our water bottle at a restaurant and had to go back to get it this morning. As long as we remember our bike though, I think we’ll be fine!
This past week we have made our way across the Italian border into France. We stuck to the Mediterranean coast through Nice and Cannes and then have headed inland, cycling for a few days before getting the train to Marseille and then back out again to explore Provence. We gave ourselves a day off to explore Nice and, I can confirm, it does its name justice. It is a very nice place. We went to a cool cycling café (creatively called café du cycliste) where we bought expensive cappuccinos, tried on jerseys we couldn’t afford, bought some shorts i frontier y couldn’t afford, and flicked through books showing the greatest bike rides in France. On this trip we have managed to plan at least 5 other trips which we want to take in the future for some beautiful and exciting rides. It’s a dangerous never-ending cycle (pun intended) where one trip never fully satisfies your lust for travelling and you slowly build an unrealistic infinite bucket list of places to go in your mind.
When you wander through Nice it is hard not to see the people flying over the beaches with parachutes behind them being dragged along by boats. We had seen parasailers a couple of times on the trip and decided Nice would be the place where we’d finally buckle on the harness and give it a go. We queued up on the baking hot beach with the required safety gear and were told to ‘walk then run’ as the boat-driven harness starts to pull you. We did just that and I was amazed at the strength of the pull and the speed with which we ascended into the air. Suddenly, all the individual pebbles on the beach were indistinguishable from each other and the people were nothing more than distant shapes. It really is an amazingly unique way to see a place. They dragged us around and even slowed the boat twice which meant we were dipped out of the sky into the water and dragged through the ocean briefly. There was a small moment when we were dragging through the water where I thought the boat simply wasn’t going to be able to lift us again. I was gladly mistaken and the experience came to a sudden end when they plummet you into the saltwater to finish off. I was screaming as we fell and then found my mouth, nose and eyes full of saltwater as we hit the water with a smack. Definitely not an elegant finish to a stunning experience.
The Nice beaches were pretty busy so we decided to head back to beaches near our campsite for the evening. We picked up some amazing Cambodian street food and cycled to the beach where we were met by police officers saying we couldn’t get through with the bike. It turned out there was an event on the beach which he called a ‘fire festival’ so no bikes are allowed. Turns out he would spend the night there so we left our bike with him and headed to the festival. Free entertainment and free bike security, a double win! We went for a gorgeous sunset swim and couldn’t see any sign of a festival but as it got later, the beach got crowded so we stuck it out. There was a mesmerising firework display over the sea. Fireworks are gorgeous at the best of times, but when the colour is reflected in the seemingly never-ending sea below, it adds a new dimension of beauty. We still don’t know why there were fireworks but we do know that they were great.
It felt like a very full couple of days near Nice and it was great to be back on the bike for some mindlessly beautiful cycling. We saw the sandy beaches of Cannes and then waved goodbye to the sea for a few days. The coastal view was replaced by tree studded roads and rocky mountain paths. We were even greeted by a wild boar and all her piglets at one point. The big cities disappeared and our only swimming was in campsite pools. One campsite had a DJ disco night hosted by a singer who asked us for a song request. We said ‘anything by Queen’ and were greeted by a very enthusiastic and ambitious, perhaps not musically perfect, rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. The DJ/singer continued until gone midnight, which, given that he started at 7:30pm and we had left by 9:30pm was the closest I have been to needing earplugs in the tent so far…
The cities along the Mediterranean coast of France are fairly dense and so it wasn’t long before we found ourselves near Marseille. We didn’t add it to our cycle route because it just didn’t look that beautiful to ride to. So we took the tandem on the train to the city where we had booked a hotel for two nights to see the city. We were told we could keep the bike in our room but, unsurprisingly, the bike did not fit in the lift (and yes we tried vertically). We didn’t fancy carrying it up five floors so the receptionist very kindly let us store it in the lobby. We spent a day in Marseille soaking up culture. We visited the mesmerising basilica with the 11.2m gold Virgin Mary statue looking down at us and guarding the city. We spent the afternoon at the MuCEM looking at exhibitions, including an extremely thought provoking exploration of the experience of refugees. The grounds of the museum are also architecturally impressive, if you are ever in Marseille I would thoroughly recommend a visit. As usual, our evenings consisted of ice cream fuelled walks around the city, mostly boat watching and exploring the old port area. We got the train back out of Marseille, heading inland and to the west of the city. We have done a couple of days of cycling through Provence and already passed through a lot of charming small towns and villages. There is some real magic in this area of France where the heat, the abundance of fresh bread and the beautiful buildings combine to produce an impressively romantic, calming yet exciting atmosphere, even in spite of the mosquitoes.