Touratech France

 

Yvon is a lucky man, in more ways than one. He lives in Provence, with a biker?s paradise on his doorstep. We?re lucky too. For starters, we know Yvon. This wiry, ambitious and hard-working Frenchman has made Touratech his life ? for years he has been supplying our products to the French market. Secondly, Yvon is full of good ideas. Streetline was one of his, and he didn?t rest until the concept had become a worldwide success in 2008.

 

Originally from Lens in northern France, Yvon moved down south about thirty years ago, to Orange. ?I like it here because it?s a place where a lot of roads meet. We?re about 200 kilometres from Lyons, 250 from Nice and the same from Perpignan. The quality of life is good. Lots of different cultures have left their mark here. It?s the ?garden of France? ? plenty of fresh produce and fine wine. The weather?s good, the scenery magnificent, so every day feels like you?re on holiday.?

 

Herbert and Yvon have much more in common than a business relationship ? in some ways they?ve led parallel lives, at home and at work. They both started out working from a garage, an experience they?ve never forgotten. And they?ve both put in a lot of hard graft over the years, developing a lasting friendship along the way.

 

As Yvon put it in a recent phone conversation: ?It's about time you came to see your Touratech family in Orange again.? And we need to bring our motorbikes ? he wants to show us something called Provence.

 

Early September seems like a good time to go, when the hordes of tourists have gone and the South of France breathes a sigh of relief. Our back-country trip through the two départements Vaucluse and Alpes-de-Haute-Provence will take us to the Verdon Gorge, to the Lac de Sainte-Croix, passing picture-postcard villages and up to Mont Ventoux.

 

As we roll out of Orange on our five juicy machines (a BMW R 1200 RT, a Honda CBF 1000 F, a Suzuki GSX 1250 FA, a BMW K 1300 S, and a Yamaha FJR 1300), there?s a shimmering heat haze in the distance.

 

Château de Massillan ? a fairytale castle in Uchaux

 

Being the mistress and confidante of the French king can?t be such a bad job ? which is probably what Diane de Poitiers thought when Henri II had this castle built for her in 1550. Surrounded by meadows and pine forests, it was ideal as a hunting retreat.

 

As chance would have it, the Englishman Peter Wylly is not just one of Yvon?s biker mates, he also happens to own half the castle ? which these days is an extravagant luxury hotel. Here you really can live like a king, enjoying the finest food served up by chef de cuisine Andreas and wine from the world-famous Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Gigondas and Beaume vineyards which are located nearby.

 

Even if we hadn?t been passing this castle en route to the Verdon Gorge, we would still have gladly made a detour to meet up with Peter for a cup of afternoon café au lait.

 

The castle offers excellent opportunities to chill out ? under the old sycamore trees in the ten hectares of grounds, or on a swing looking over the pond. The scent of lavender and other herbs fills the air with the only sound being the chirping of crickets.

 

Château de Massillan

Chemin Hauteville

Uchaux 84100

France

 

(About 30 minutes from Orange)

 

Telephone: 0033 (0)4 90 40 64 51

 

www.chateau-de-massillan.com

 

Gorges du Verdon (Verdon Gorge)

 

Vast, dizzying and uniquely beautiful ? but even the boldest superlative cannot describe the awe-inspiring view from the edge of this canyon, or the vertiginous 700-metre drop into what appears to be a bottomless chasm. Full marks to nature for another impressive tour de force. It took a very, very long time for the river to cut its 21 km path so deep into the white Jurassic limestone. Watching the light play on the steep cliffs, you get a sense of your own insignificance: nature a giant, man a dwarf.

 

The Verdon river winds through the gorge like a turquoise snake, passing the town of Castellane before flowing into the Lac de Sainte-Croix. Since the gorge is sometimes referred to as the ?Grand Canyon of Verdon? you might expect parallels with its American counterpart, but it doesn?t really stand a direct comparison. The Verdon Gorge is different ? smaller, more compact, greener, lusher.

 

At the northern end of the man-made lake we ride our bikes onto the ring-road that passes along the southern edge of the canyon. The route de la corniche sublime promises hair-raising curves and thrills galore. Go easy on the throttle ? one wrong move and you?ll wipe out on the bend! If you go over the edge, you?re history ? never mind exactly how far it is to the bottom. We decide to save our appreciation of the scenery for the many lookout points called belvédères and concentrate on keeping the bikes on the road.

 

We want to spend the night up there where there?s a good view. We arrive at the Hôtel du Grand Verdon to a fairly uninspiring bed but a truly spectacular sunset. The 23-kilometre route des crêtes (French for ?road of the peaks?) on the opposite side of the ravine is at the same height as us and looks so close you could touch it. As the crow flies it?s only 1,000 metres away but we?ll have to ride a good 50 kilometres down and back up tomorrow morning before we get there.

 

A star shines on Moustiers-Sainte-Marie

 

A picturesque mountain village in Provence with old stone houses nestling snugly against the steep cliffs. Behind them is a ravine, spanned by a 227-metre iron chain. In the middle is a shining golden star.

 

According to legend, a Knight of St. John named Blacas put up the chaîne de l?étoile when he made an unlikely return home from a crusade. He had been captured by the hostile Saracens in 1249 and thought his time was up. In captivity, he vowed that if by some miracle he were to make it back alive, he would thank the Virgin Mary ? with a star.

 

Moustiers is an old, pretty town which dates back to the fifth century and is the site of one of the oldest monasteries in France. In the 17th century its fine faïence pottery with the distinctive reddish glimmer and white glaze was hot property, making Moustiers and its kilns famous throughout France. The materials were readily available: clay out of the ground, firewood from the surrounding forests and water from the mountain stream that runs through the village. After the initial boom, the market for the traditional craft almost completely dried up in the 19th century. It wasn't until a hundred years ago that it experienced a renaissance.

 

Another day draws to an end in beautiful Provence ? and what an amazing set of curves she has! The gorges de Verdon disappear in the rear-view mirror. The rooftops of Moustiers glow in the warm sunset as if on the stage of some giant outdoor theatre. The road is already in the shadow. The sun is like an oversized headlamp, dividing the world into day and night.

 

Picnic time

 

Eating outdoors has been a popular pastime since at least Greek and Roman times. But there wasn?t a special word for it until the 17th century, when picnicking became très chic among the French nobility. The word is said to be a combination of piquer meaning ?pick? and nique meaning ?small thing?.

 

Maybe the picnics on our South of France tour aren?t quite grand social events, but the locations are always spot on: under an old oak tree by the side of the road, or on the gravelly banks of the Verdon. Thirty-six degrees Celsius and the mercury?s still rising ? time to get the motorbike gear off and go skinny-dipping in the river ? to the astonishment of a group of rafters who come paddling by at the exact same moment!

 

The Bald Giant of Provence

 

From a distance, Mont Ventoux, standing at 1,912 metres, looks like a snow-capped volcano. But snow? In summer, at this latitude? Not likely! Yvon is amused: ?Some years you might get hail up there in May, but all the ice should have melted by now. The white bits you can see are huge fields of gravel. All the trees were cut down ages ago for shipbuilding, so the soil washed away and now the white limestone is exposed. You?re not the first people to think it was snow!?

 

From Malaucène the D974 winds it way through countless bends to the bare summit of the Géant de Provence, the Giant of Provence, also known as the Bald Mountain. In a few miles we?ve gone from the Mediterranean to Lapland. Every climate and vegetation zone in Europe can be found on its slopes. Apparently there are truffles, too.

 

Mont Ventoux was revered by the Celts, who believed it was the home of a wind god. Today it is considered to be one of the ?Three Holy Mountains of Provence? along with the Massif de la Sainte-Baume and the Montagne Sainte-Victoire. In any case we feel the full force of the cold mistral blasting us at the summit. It?s no mystery where Ventoux got its Latin name mons ventosus ? ?windy mountain?. At the Col des Tempêtes (?the Pass of Storms?) on the north side, it is not uncommon for storms to sweep over the ridge road with wind speeds in excess of 200 km/h.

 

Ventoux may look deserted from down below, but once you get up there it certainly isn?t. The mountain is a major draw for cyclists, who flock to this (in)famous leg of the Tour de France. The trail that passes through Bédoin is one of the most gruelling climbs, gaining 1,600 metres in altitude over 21 kilometres, with an average gradient of 7.6%. Many fear the treeless summit with its scorching sun and strong winds ? and quite rightly. If you underestimate Mont Ventoux you?ll pay dearly ? possibly with your life. The mountain gained notoriety in 1967 when British cyclist Tom Simpson collapsed and died less than a mile from the summit. Every year between ten and twenty amateur cyclists meet their demise, dying either of exhaustion or a fatal accident.

 

The weather is on our side ? a bright blue sky and not a cloud in sight, so the view is simply stunning. From here you can see the Mediterranean Sea as well as the highest peaks of the Pyrenees and the Alps.

 

Châteauneuf-du-Pape

 

Every time I order un pichet de vin rouge (carafe of house wine) with dinner, Yvon gives me a pitying look. ?Are you trying to poison yourself??

 

Herbert and Yvon are both adamant that the best wine in the world comes from Châteuneuf-du-Pape in the southern Rhône Valley. In a good year, they reckon, this wine is one of the best there is.

 

Yvon is determined to correct my errant ways when it comes to wine. He is so eager to convert me that he makes an emergency call to his friend Pierre, the maître de chai at Château Fargueirol. In such a difficult case as mine, the only hope is a serious dégustation. Well, fair?s fair: if he?s pouring the wine, I?ll listen.

 

A tale of two Pierres: these namesakes, who are also brothers-in-law, give us a guided tour of the family cellars. Wine has been made the traditional way at Château Fargueirol for seven generations. The family owns forty hectares, eighteen of which are used to produce Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The rest becomes Côtes-du-Rhône.

 

Some wine facts: one reason why the Châteauneuf-du-Pape appellation produces around 100,000 hectolitres of the best wine every year is the layer of pebbles. During the day they store the sun?s heat and release it for the vines at night. With an average of 2,800 hours of sunshine each year, this is one sophisticated solar ground heating system!

 

One Châteauneuf cuvée can use up to thirteen different purple grape varieties. Grenache is the most dominant and expressive grape, and is grown on around 70% of the total vineyard surface, followed by Syrah, Mourvèdre and Cinsault.

 

Back above ground, under an old sycamore tree in the garden, a princely feast awaits: cold meats, cheeses, French bread, olives, and a variety of bottles bearing the typical Papal motifs.

 

Pierre uncorks, pours, and hands me a glass. ?Santé!? I watch him closely. The four steps to wine enjoyment are: look, smell, taste, go ?mmmh!? Pierre begins by swirling the wine around in his glass and musing on its colour, a deep, vivacious, ruby red. To absorb the complex aroma of the wine, he flares his nostrils. Very fruity with a dominant cassis aroma and notes of leather, truffles and spices. After some extensive slurping he gives a delighted grunt ? ?mmmh!? I copy him.

 

It?s a shame that the motorbike panniers and tail box can?t hold more than 30 bottles. Next time we have a family get-together in Provence I?ll be sure to order a carafe of Châteauneuf J.

 

Château Fargueirol

B.P. 19

Quartier la Font du Pape

84231 Châteauneuf-du-Pape Cédex

France

 

Telephone: 0033 (0)4 90 83 71 38

 

chateau.defargueirol@terre-net.fr