From Nyons to Aix

by Daniel Heesch

In Orange we are already pretty far south. In fact, judging by the average temperature throughout the year, Orange is the warmest city in France. From Orange you can either continue on the N7 towards Avignon or take a small detour East of the N7 via Sarrans and Monteux towards Cavaillon. The landscape along the latter route is quite beautiful though the road surface on the earlier sections not as good as on the N7.

Cavaillon would be a good place to stock up on food, if it weren't for its reputation as one of the most crime-ridden cities in the South of France. Petty theft ranks amongst the most popular pastime activites, mostly by poorly integrated North African ethnicities. Some areas are best to be avoided altogether. Take great care to never leave the bike unattended for even a second! That said, it's not easy to find your way out again, and you may be inclined to stop and ask for directions. The motorway leaves towards Aix-en-Provence and is sign-posted accordingly. But which signs to follow in order to get onto the N7 is not obvious at all. The problem is that Aix is still too many kilometers away to be signposted on the smaller roads. Instead you need to look out for a place called Salon halfway between Cavaillon and Aix. To get there, leave the city in the south-west where a main road crosses the Durance river and the motorway, before offering you to head left towards Salon.

The road that welcomes you on the other side of the motorway is once more the N7. It leads you towards Aix-en-Provence along endless avenues with majestic platany trees on either side providing long-sought relief from the burning sun. These trees were one of the many accomplishments of Sully, also known as Maximilien de Béthune, Duc de Sully (1560--1641). Of noble origins he quickly became the right-hand man of Henry IV and helped France to gain its strength after the religious and civil wars had torn the country apart. The trees were an initiative planted in 1599 whilst he was ''grand commissioner of highways and public works''. The primary purpose of the trees was to cast a cooling shadow on anyone using this much-travelled artery to the south.

The relief afforded by those trees is indeed phenomenal, and so the passage from Cavaillon towards Aix begins rather pleasant. Unfortunately, there is an end to these tree-flanked avenues. Without them, the heat was truly enormous. It was now approaching 2pm with very few towns along the way, so that there was a real risk of running out of water. During that summer in 2002 it had already been dry for some time and so the country looked in places more like a savannah: fint yellow and pine-green were the dominant colours. Moreover, there was barely any wind, only an oppressive silence, interrupted sporadically by the deafening sound of cicads sitting in the shrubs on either sides of the road. The atmosphere reminded me of Debussy's "L'Après midi d'un faune." The air had become so dry and hot that I had to drink almost continuously.

The only car that passed by on my way to Salon was a fire patrouille. It immediately stopped to ask whether everything was fine, evidently aware that a cyclist riding under such conditions was likely to need help, sooner or later. It was on those kilometers that I seriously began thinking of catching a train from Aix.

A mere 38 kilometers after Cavaillon you reach Saint-Cannas. It is like escaping a desert. It is now early afternoon of the third day. I would never have thought that I should still be on the road after nearly 60 hours. But so it was, and there were yet another 200 kilometers to cycle. Along with the collapse in Nyons in the early morning hours of the second day, Saint-Cannas was perhaps the second most critical point of the trip. In Saint-Cannas my body really cried for an end of the torment. It was not so much the desire to sleep but physical exhaustion. I sat down outside of a pleasantly quiet café and remained there for several hours. I knew that if my body did not respond favourably to this extended break, I would not be able to continue. I minimised my mental activities and for much of the time merely watched the locals as they came back from their siesta, instead of actively planning the final kilometers -- an activity which is ever so tempting to engage in during breaks. For the first time also, I was able to take off my shoes and massage my swollen ankles and to wash off the dirt and dust the previous 200 kilometers since Valence had left on me. I ordered two espressos and drank more water than during the rest of the entire journey. After two or three hours, I felt I was gradually moving outside the red zone and began, with the speed of a tortoise, my preparations for departure.

The next city would be Aix. Despite the extended break, I was unsure whether I would make it past that point so I enquired about trains from Aix to Nice. The waiters, clearly noticing my misery, made every effort to find out about times and connections and concluded that it would be difficult to get a direct train and that I would most likely have to go via Marseille. In any event, I needed to get to Aix first.

I had noticed during that day that I had to eat more and eat more regularly. I had burned much of my fat and the energy seemed to go straight from mouth to muscle. In fact, my body was longing for fat. This I noticed only when I found myself in a small shop opposite the cafe seizing a huge bag of crisps, something I would not normally consider eating. Armed with that and a few bananas, I made myself on the way: walking for about one kilometers on the trottoir of the N7 rejoicing in the cooling shadow of the houses until I reached the very last. Only then did I mount my bike again and continued, very slowly, my way into the open countryside that was still heaving under the scorching sun.

Aix is situated in a plain overlooking the river Arc, about two kilometer from the right bank of the river. The Arc is a young river originating a few kilometers further east at the foot of the Mont St Maurien. The city slopes from north to south and so does the N7 just before reaching the city. There is a sense of urbanity not felt since St Etienne, though with its 130,000 inhabitants, Aix is only the 20th biggest city in France and less than half the size of Nice.