We got up early this morning and finished the necessary repairs on the caravan. The 4-hour job entailed finding the right size bolts to fit the underpinning, figuring out how to re-connect the clamps that had been ripped away from the caravan, and taking time to once more, admire the beautifully terraced vineyards. We programmed the GPS to Nice, France and began our trek. What a trek it was! After passing the last of the vineyards our elevation began to steadily rise. My thoughts were on the caravan repairs we had made. I felt fairly confident that the caravan was secure, but heading into the haute (high) Alps,I must admit to a bit of uneasiness about the state of our vehicle. Every noise that seemed unfamiliar made the hair on my neck stand on end. All we could do is drive as carefully as we could, being sure to avoid pot holes and driving very slowly through any hazardous conditions. We checked the caravan at every possible pull over spot, and things seemed to be doing fine. I soon turned my attention to the incredible scenery that laid out before us.
The Alps took my breath away! We drove through towns and villages that brought to mind winter olympic and winter sports. Grenoble, Albertville, and all the great alpine villages. It reminded me of Jim Mckay's "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat" at the beginning segment of 'Wide World of Sports'. As we descended into the valley, a sigh of relief overcame me as we were now out of the haute Alps. This sigh was short lived when we heard a "grblarrrr" sound come from the back of the caravan. We looked at each other and exclaimed , "what was that!?" I didn't really want to know. We pulled over afraid of the damage that we might find. We discovered we had lost the bolts that secured the top of the caravan down but fortunately the weight of the shell kept the caravan secure. All other repairs seemed to be working fine.
We decided to find a place to stay and start the journey again early the next morning. Waking up early and checking out the caravan . It was all systems go. We set the GPS for the shortest route to Nice, France. According to our trusty GPS, it was to be a 5.5 hour journey. Not having a detailed map we proceeded on our 230km journey. We began to see signs along the road that said "rally today". I thought maybe a political happening was occurring but we soon found out, after tiny French sports cars began to zoom past us, that it wasn't a political rally at all but a car rally. This was something I never thought about experiencing, being in the midst of a race during time trials. They didn't even shut down the roads. I guess they figured the more obstacles the better and at over 40 feet, with bike racks attached, we were quite an obstacle indeed. I didn't like the idea of being part of an obstacle course without my consent but I have to admit it was pretty cool. After not even placing in the race we moved on towards our destination.
I knew we somehow had to cross the Alps to get to the Mediterranean but what laid ahead was truly unexpected. We began to once again take on elevation. As we hit the 6000 foot mark, the scenery became secondary in our minds. The main thought was when are we going to start moving downhill. We began to notice signs stating "highest elevation in Europe ahead", huh? We definitely didn't want to be here. We snaked slowly up the alpine range almost afraid to look out the window as we set only feet from the edge of a 2000 foot plunge. This was not a well-traveled road. We still were climbing steadily 7000 ft., 8000ft., 9000ft., we were much too large to even think about turning around on the narrow roads. The scenery became less breath taking and more bleak, like the surface of a Mars or some other distant planet. Interestingly, an occasional badger would run in front of the truck or a sheep herd with hundreds of head would suddenly surround us. It was unreal and exhilarating to be on top of the world and to be surrounded by the sounds of 'baa baa'. As we glanced at the the gas gauge it, read less than 1/8, now the journey became tense. The sheep didn't matter, the elevation didn't mater, the only thing that mattered was the the state of our petrol. As we finally reached the highest point in Europe, the celebration quickly turned back to the matter at hand. The near empty gas tank!
We chatted about the rest of the journey being downhill so we wouldn't be using much petrol. This was somewhat of a comfort but it was still nerve racking. Once we began our downhill assent at 11% and 12% grades the gauge moved up to 1/4! The incline had given us a false reading, although finding gas was still important, we knew we had enough to get us out of the Alps.
As we descended into the Cote d Azur, the adventure at the top of Europe soon faded into thoughts of sunning in a secluded cove, welcoming palm trees, and sweet ocean breezes. It's very warm almost balmy, the palms are swaying to Micheal Franks on the I Pod and I am pool side drinking a rose'. Ahhhh! There's nothing quite like the French Riviera.
What a difference a day makes,
24 little hours,
Brought the sun and the flowers,
where there used to be rain. --
Sung so convincingly By Dinah Washington
Now that the big bad Alps are now only mere hills in my mind, I can get back to the matter at hand. Well, the matter in hand, chiefly being the salmon-colored rose I am sipping on. Rosé the perfect wine for the Mediterranean. It's still Summer, If you haven't tried a rosé wine there is still time. Rosé gain their color from short contact with the grape skins or in rare cases mixing red and white wines together, Yikes! In France Grenache and Cinsaut are used quite often in rosé production but increasingly you can find rosé made from almost every red grape varital. The prices are extremely reasonable and you can get great, highly rated wines in the $14-19 dollar range. Remember to drink Rosé young and chilled. Oh yeah, real men do drink Rosé.
Now that my friend Dave has arrived from Madeira, Portugal, it's time to intensify the food and wine experience. I talked Dave into doing a guest of the week blog on his visit to Portugal keeping a few wine notes while he was in Portugal. It would be great if we could use this blog as a wine/food/travel sharing information exchange. Take some pics, send me some notes and we can get it posted. He's featured on the guest blogger section on the main menu. Please check it out.
The French and Italian Riviera offers a bounty of choices. After a fairly late start, our first mission was to make it to the open air market in Cap' D Antibes. Cap' D Antibes is located 10km or so West of Nice. It's a playground of sorts for the very rich but it also has a very welcoming appeal to those like me on a stream-lined budget.
With the back drop of the Mediterranean, clear blue skies, and million dollar plus yachts docked in the harbor, you began to feel very rich as well, not materially just on how wonderful life can be. The market offers great fresh seafood, fruits, vegetables, local cheeses, and much more. As always the markets prove to be the best place to rub shoulders with the locals. A visit to the nearby Picasso Museum is a must. Picasso spent a creative summer at a friend's home in Cap D' Antibes creating hundreds of pieces of art. The house has since been turned into a museum holding the art work.
After a laid back lunch of local wine and local seafood, we returned to Nice to bike along the Promenade de Angalis??? The promenade is a wide boardwalk that stretches for miles and miles along the Nice waterfront. Lined with swaying palms, fine hotels, residences, and restaurants, it's a great place to get a bit of exercise.
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