13th August 2013

I was up again at 0800 and had my usual breakfast at the hotel of baguette, jam and cafe au lait. I decided today to take a drive into the national park of Verdon and especially the famous Gorges du Verdon or Grand Canyon du Verdon known as Europe’s biggest canyon.  I set off around 1030 and headed out of Cannes on the N85. Traffic was high for some reason, I guess that the population is high around here and many are driving in and out of Cannes from the hinterland.  I decided to visit the perfume essence factory run by Fragonard.  The factory was just outside of Grasse and offered free tours through their operations. On arrival there was a 15 min wait for the English tour so I decide to walk through on my own.  The operation seems to be entirely set up for tourists rather than for real commercial manufacture, the machines and labs seemed to be mainly manually driven which would not have been the case if they needed a more efficient operation, the main aim of the factory was the gift shop at the end which sold basic soaps, candles and perfumes.  I realised disappointedly that the entire set up was to entice tourists to their shop and to buy these products and the factory was no longer commercial.  I believe there was another factory elsewhere which was operational but this was not open to visitors.  I was disappointed with the shop as it did not sell any new products such as liquid soaps, only selling old traditional hand soaps and dubious unknown perfumes.  However, it was a free tour so I decided to get back to the car a make my way onwards to the gorges without further delay.

I continued my drive north for another hour which brought me through some sharp hair pin bends and gradually climbed to about 1000 metres above sea level before reaching the beautiful town of Castellane.  Just outside the town the river Verdon is fast flowing making it ideal for rafting and kayaking, for which this region is popular.  I stopped to see the rafts with their 6 or so occupants paddling furiously to avoid rocks and steep drops in the waves, with the coxswain shouting instructions.  It felt nice to be on the shore watching rather than paddling.  I continued on into the town when the amazing sight of the huge rock that stood arrogantly up above the town some 200 metres, with a church perched precariously on the top overlooking the town.  The church is called Notre Dame de roc.  Even standing at the bottom looking up made me feel dizzy, just as much as if I was on the top rather than at the bottom.  The rock was an amazing geology artefact displaying amazing sedimentary strata that were presumably carved out by erosion by the ancient rivers.  The vertical twisting of some of the strata seemed to show buckling due to tectonic compressions.  Some of the strata were almost aligned vertically showing the extent of the buckling.

I still had a long distance to travel along the routes des Crete so I continued on along the D952, D955, D90 and then the D71. The hair pin turns and gradients were tortuous, death defying motorcyclists over took me on the most dangerous of bends, if only their mothers knew! Then all of a sudden I turned a bend and there was the most amazing site! I pulled in to the lay-by and went to the viewing area called Les Mesculins, the gorge dropped some 200 metres into a small river that still flowed at the bottom.  The sedimentary rock displayed pretty green vegetation growing along its strata all the way down with huge glimpses of the limestone in between which had colours caused by mineral impurities ranging from browns to whites making the whole scene a complex but beautiful painting of nature.

I continued on to Pont de l'artuby which was only few more minutes away.  This bridge is an arched bridge sitting across the gorges as a testament to human supremacy over geology, matching clean concrete lines with the rugged natural stone of the gorges. It was now 1600pm and I had a long way to get back home.  I was not going to be able to complete the complete circuit of routes des Cretes so I decided to turn back and retrace my steps back to Castellane.  It seemed quicker going back and I took the opportunity to stop at Castellane for an espresso and glass of water.  The town is a delight to walk through, the locals and tourists alike seemed relaxed and the cafes were friendly and cool in the afternoon sun.  In the distance I could here the bells ringing form Notre Dame du roc up on the high cliff above the town, the bells sounding deeper and more distance due to their altitude and distance. Time just sauntered by as I refreshed myself, I soon realised that night would soon be drawing in and I still had some distance to travel back.  I decided to aim for Grasse and have dinner there rather than Cannes.

I was driving around the one way system of Grasses looking for a restaurant as it spiralled up and down the town which sat on top of small hill overlooking Cannes by about 1900pm.  However, the town felt unwelcoming, the roads narrow, unmanageable and bendy.  There were no pleasant looking restaurants around to be seen and the local traffic and pedestrians looked too busy to be friendly or welcoming.  So I took the hint and decided to drive on to Cannes, but I really did not wish to eat in Cannes again, so I took another look at the map and saw a small inconspicuous village just outside of Cannes called Mougins.  I had never heard of it before but I took the gamble and headed for it as it was already 2000pm and I was worried about getting a table for dinner. The road out of Grasse towards Cannes was very unfriendly and almost industrial and full of locals going home after work. However, as I exited the N85 and took the small road to Mougins the scenery slowly changed and I got a hint of things to come, gradually my subconscious spirits were lifting.  Finally I reached Mougins and found the car park next to the pedestrian village which as an added bonus in Cannes was free.  It was dusk now and I parked and left the car to walk into the village.  As if opening my eyes in the morning sun, the sounds and sights of people chatting and laughing in restaurant verandas and the sound of water in the village square fountain all stimulated my senses as I began to realise I had stumbled on a very special place.  The village was full of art galleries and restaurants peppered with beautiful old builds of difference architectures ranging from Italian renaissance to traditional Provençal.  The choice of restaurants was huge and all with a similar level if quality.  All the visitors and diners seemed well heeled and educated but not ostentatious, this was a real serendipitous discovery.

It was difficult to chose which restaurant to dine at but time was pressing and the tables were filling.  I decided on a restaurant called La Mediterranee Brasserie, which had a fix menu for 25 euro for three courses.  I started with a Kir royal to congratulate my new discovery and ordered the tomato and mozzarella salad as starter followed by delicate red mullet with quinoa Provençal style.  To finish I had the profiteroles.  The cooking was delicious and careful made; every mouthful reminded me of the work and skill in its cooking.  The street lighting and the light of the restaurants played with the architecture of the village square and seduced my eyes, the food played games with my taste buds and the wine distracted by nose.  The memories of the day’s events played with those from my entire French trip.  The stimulation was too much and my mind just exploded leaving behind a different me, a different person, a different mind.  I was in love with France, or at least with what I believed France to be. It was more than even that, I was in love with life, with taste, beauty, aroma, and everything that life could offer.  Life was no longer a string of disappointments but a never ending journey of discovery, stimulation and surprise.  I had arrived! That night as lay in my hotel bed past midnight I drifted off to sleep in a new world; my world would never be the same again - thank god!

lait. I decided today to take a drive into the national park of Verdon and especially the famous Gorges du Verdon or Grand Canyon du Verdon known as Europe’s biggest canyon.  I set off around 1030 and headed out of Cannes on the N85. Traffic was high for some reason, I guess that the population is high around here and many are driving in and out of Cannes from the hinterland.  I decided to visit the perfume essence factory run by Fragonard.  The factory was just outside of Grasse and offered free tours through their operations. On arrival there was a 15 min wait for the English tour so I decide to walk through on my own.  The operation seems to be entirely set up for tourists rather than for real commercial manufacture, the machines and labs seemed to be mainly manually driven which would not have been the case if they needed a more efficient operation, the main aim of the factory was the gift shop at the end which sold basic soaps, candles and perfumes.  I realised disappointedly that the entire set up was to entice tourists to their shop and to buy these products and the factory was no longer commercial.  I believe there was another factory elsewhere which was operational but this was not open to visitors.  I was disappointed with the shop as it did not sell any new products such as liquid soaps, only selling old traditional hand soaps and dubious unknown perfumes.  However, it was a free tour so I decided to get back to the car a make my way onwards to the gorges without further delay.

I continued my drive north for another hour which brought me through some sharp hair pin bends and gradually climbed to about 1000 metres above sea level before reaching the beautiful town of Castellane.  Just outside the town the river Verdon is fast flowing making it ideal for rafting and kayaking, for which this region is popular.  I stopped to see the rafts with their 6 or so occupants paddling furiously to avoid rocks and steep drops in the waves, with the coxswain shouting instructions.  It felt nice to be on the shore watching rather than paddling.  I continued on into the town when the amazing sight of the huge rock that stood arrogantly up above the town some 200 metres, with a church perched precariously on the top overlooking the town.  The church is called Notre Dame de roc.  Even standing at the bottom looking up made me feel dizzy, just as much as if I was on the top rather than at the bottom.  The rock was an amazing geology artefact displaying amazing sedimentary strata that were presumably carved out by erosion by the ancient rivers.  The vertical twisting of some of the strata seemed to show buckling due to tectonic compressions.  Some of the strata were almost aligned vertically showing the extent of the buckling.

I still had a long distance to travel along the routes des Crete so I continued on along the D952, D955, D90 and then the D71. The hair pin turns and gradients were tortuous, death defying motorcyclists over took me on the most dangerous of bends, if only their mothers knew! Then all of a sudden I turned a bend and there was the most amazing site! I pulled in to the lay-by and went to the viewing area called Les Mesculins, the gorge dropped some 200 metres into a small river that still flowed at the bottom.  The sedimentary rock displayed pretty green vegetation growing along its strata all the way down with huge glimpses of the limestone in between which had colours caused by mineral impurities ranging from browns to whites making the whole scene a complex but beautiful painting of nature.

I continued on to Pont de l'artuby which was only few more minutes away.  This bridge is an arched bridge sitting across the gorges as a testament to human supremacy over geology, matching clean concrete lines with the rugged natural stone of the gorges. It was now 1600pm and I had a long way to get back home.  I was not going to be able to complete the complete circuit of routes des Cretes so I decided to turn back and retrace my steps back to Castellane.  It seemed quicker going back and I took the opportunity to stop at Castellane for an espresso and glass of water.  The town is a delight to walk through, the locals and tourists alike seemed relaxed and the cafes were friendly and cool in the afternoon sun.  In the distance I could here the bells ringing form Notre Dame du roc up on the high cliff above the town, the bells sounding deeper and more distance due to their altitude and distance. Time just sauntered by as I refreshed myself, I soon realised that night would soon be drawing in and I still had some distance to travel back.  I decided to aim for Grasse and have dinner there rather than Cannes.

I was driving around the one way system of Grasses looking for a restaurant as it spiralled up and down the town which sat on top of small hill overlooking Cannes by about 1900pm.  However, the town felt unwelcoming, the roads narrow, unmanageable and bendy.  There were no pleasant looking restaurants around to be seen and the local traffic and pedestrians looked too busy to be friendly or welcoming.  So I took the hint and decided to drive on to Cannes, but I really did not wish to eat in Cannes again, so I took another look at the map and saw a small inconspicuous village just outside of Cannes called Mougins.  I had never heard of it before but I took the gamble and headed for it as it was already 2000pm and I was worried about getting a table for dinner. The road out of Grasse towards Cannes was very unfriendly and almost industrial and full of locals going home after work. However, as I exited the N85 and took the small road to Mougins the scenery slowly changed and I got a hint of things to come, gradually my subconscious spirits were lifting.  Finally I reached Mougins and found the car park next to the pedestrian village which as an added bonus in Cannes was free.  It was dusk now and I parked and left the car to walk into the village.  As if opening my eyes in the morning sun, the sounds and sights of people chatting and laughing in restaurant verandas and the sound of water in the village square fountain all stimulated my senses as I began to realise I had stumbled on a very special place.  The village was full of art galleries and restaurants peppered with beautiful old builds of difference architectures ranging from Italian renaissance to traditional Provençal.  The choice of restaurants was huge and all with a similar level if quality.  All the visitors and diners seemed well heeled and educated but not ostentatious, this was a real serendipitous discovery.

It was difficult to chose which restaurant to dine at but time was pressing and the tables were filling.  I decided on a restaurant called La Mediterranee Brasserie, which had a fix menu for 25 euro for three courses.  I started with a Kir royal to congratulate my new discovery and ordered the tomato and mozzarella salad as starter followed by delicate red mullet with quinoa Provençal style.  To finish I had the profiteroles.  The cooking was delicious and careful made; every mouthful reminded me of the work and skill in its cooking.  The street lighting and the light of the restaurants played with the architecture of the village square and seduced my eyes, the food played games with my taste buds and the wine distracted by nose.  The memories of the day’s events played with those from my entire French trip.  The stimulation was too much and my mind just exploded leaving behind a different me, a different person, a different mind.  I was in love with France, or at least with what I believed France to be. It was more than even that, I was in love with life, with taste, beauty, aroma, and everything that life could offer.  Life was no longer a string of disappointments but a never ending journey of discovery, stimulation and surprise.  I had arrived! That night as lay in my hotel bed past  midnight I drifted off to sleep in a new world; my world would never be the same again - thank god!