AMB Cote d'Azur

Four months into my newly acquired Provençal life, I decided to embark on another one of my many adventures in the Luberon.  I'm never alone in these wonderful endeavors: I'm always accompanied by my boyfriend Bryan, as together we forge our way into French life. On this particular weekend, we were searching for some solitude, an escape from the daily barrage of merchants and shoppers on the streets of Aix-en-Provence. We decided to make our way deep into the Luberon and spend one more day mountain biking and other, exploring the enchanted ochre quarries of the so-called: “Colorado of the Luberon”.

We chose a trail outside of the "petite ville" of Saint Saturnin Les Apt, which was close to our main destination: the Colorado of the Luberon. After winding our car through the narrow, winding roads of the Luberon for approximately forty-five minutes, we geared up in our VTT gear (as the French would call it), and looked for the beginning of the trail head. Our searches always fill us with anticipation as our French skills are mediocre and we had referenced the book (VTOPO Provence Nord, 62 Circuits Sportifs) on many occasions, ending up on an excursion off the beaten path, or rather an unforgettable deviation from the guidebook.

Our ride took us above the town to a quaint church on a hill. As we biked out, we passed a wedding and were showered with tiny red hearts that had been released into the air! Très romantique! As we made our way past the ruins up into the woods, we entered a lush wooded area after passing an enormous orchard. I biked ahead of Bryan, not knowing what to anticipate with each turn. What I saw next caught me off guard. It looked to me like there were two or three dogs coming my way on the narrow trail ('single' track in VTT language).

Getting closer, I realized that these were not dogs but a pack of wild boars crossing the path! My initial response was to back away in case they charged at me. With thoughts of wild boars charging at me vividly grabbing my imagination, I did what any sensible, naive nature lover would have done: I backed away and slowly retreated from the path ahead of me. I made my way back to Bryan shouting: “There is something you have to see up ahead”. Sadly, every time I've spotted wildlife in its natural habitat, Bryan is nowhere to be found and so has never been able to share these wonderful experiences with me and is quite doubtful to the reality of my sightings. Naturally, by the time we had bravely biked back toward the boars they had disappeared into thin air. We rode the rest of the way in anticipation of encountering them again, but no such luck. We then made our way back down into town, hoping to score a camping spot at a campground that we had only identified in our imagination.

As our intent was to explore 'Colorado' the next day, we decided to head over to Rustrel, another “petite ville” in the Luberon, nestled at the foot of the Plateau d'Albion. Just beyond the town were signs and glimpses of our French Colorado: terracotta hills with pale colored layers and a softer earth than the surrounding lush greenery. We soon discovered the entrance to the hike we had planned to do the next day. We pulled into a picnic area and noticed a few RV's (Recreational Vehicles), sparsely spaced throughout the parking lot. Just ahead in the distance we saw our oasis: a quaint spot with its own wiry tree and rustic picnic table. Camping is one of our favorite activities and, after setting up our tent and arranging our gear, we later feasted on Franco-American cuisine: a bowl heaped with piping hot Cassolet (a traditional French dish made with Toulouse sausages, canellini beans, onions, tomatoes and various herbs - great for camping) and that old American stand-by: macaroni and cheese.

The next morning we headed back into town to find the local boulangerie and country store. We found the local market and were able to purchase bottled water among the many products available to desperate tourists (sunscreen, toothpaste, maps, etc.). What followed was a trip to the family-owned local boulangerie for some pain au chocolat, a breakfast of champions.

After breakfast we prepared ourselves for a run and hike through the Rustrel countryside. As we were getting ready to leave, an elderly woman with a very attentive gaze sauntered toward us and kindly explained that the ochre quarries of Colorado are privately owned, but for the mere price of €6 one can camp, park and use the local 'facilities' in the park. We paid the woman and earned ourselves a detailed pamphlet explaining the area to us.

We used this map in addition to our hiking guide (Le Parc Naturel Régional de Luberon à pied) to locate the areas of interest within the park. Our plan was to run five or six miles around the perimeter of the ochre quarry and then to enter into the landscape and hike around the inside. Along the way, we encountered several enchanting sites. Red fields full of poppies lined the perimeter and we kept peeking into the soft, canyon filled with sand dunes that we would momentarily enter.The canyon was in stark contrast in colors that we never expected to see in nature such as deep blues and violets (according the pamphlet, there are twenty-five different colors found within the quarry).

As we finished our run, we dropped into the canyon via the craggy downward trail that assured a twisted ankle if one was not careful. We surveyed the landscape finding several truly amazing sites. The waterfall at 'Sahara ou Cirque' trickled down to a rocky refuge near the trail. We also came across a river made of sand (Riviere de Sable) and two 'Cheminées des Fées', prominent chimney-like rock formations that reminded us of not only of Colorado but of Bryce Canyon, Utah. As we continued on the trail, we came to a large cave. We entered the cave, which turned out to be a  narrow tunnel that ended with a drop off into a vast valley. As we safely retreated, we noticed a sign restricting pedestrians from entering the cave. Ooops! Finally we entered the Cirque de Barries, a circuit of sandy mounds and valleys within the quarry. It was as if we had entered an alluring and majestic land, or perhaps even a movie set. We gazed in awe at people climbing up and down this ochre playground. 

As we exited this exotic retreat to head back to our car, we noticed a small cafe on our right. We sat at a table outdoors and enjoyed our ' deux pressions' (two cold beers on tap) and scrumptious ice cream bars. With the quarries no longer in view, it seemed as if it was maybe all a figment of our imagination, kind of like the wild boars.