It has been a long time since I have had the inclination to get my thoughts down on "paper." Unfortunately, in the spring, I had a setback healthwise; as such, all my efforts have gone to resolving these niggles. Drop weight and exercise more were the orders of the day. The first significant change had to be made to my schedule at work. Last year I was graciously offered a job that took me back to shift work after being away from it for many years. It seems the shift pattern contributes to my health issues in a negative way. I didn't envision returning to work in retirement, but it has been really fun and an awesome opportunity. The best part is I have rekindled some old friendships and forged some wonderful new ones as well.

As a result of the health concerns, I took a sabbatical, and I am working diligently on getting to a place where everyone concerned will see long-term and hopefully permanent positive changes when I return in the fall. Before these issues arose, we had planned on spending our summer holidays back in the Luberon at our village home. My poor health meant that we left Canada a little earlier than expected and have been here for three weeks now. The heat has been a massive shock to the system. Great for vignerons and those harvesting the lavender, but for us mere mortals, it's akin to wearing a sauna suit under a fur coat from about 5 a.m. onwards. You sweat just planning to take your first step in the morning.

In week one of this trip I was joined by a great friend from home who was keen to see the villages he had not yet visited and to enjoy a more relaxed Provencal getaway. His stay was short but really fun nonetheless. We saw some great local places just before the tourists arrived and coupled those visits with wonderful meals to end each day. I was truly sad to see him go.

Deanna & I decided earlier in the year to bring our bikes to France and leave them here. We seem to cycle more here than at home, and with my health and lifestyle goals, it seemed the right thing to do. However, it was not the easiest thing to accomplish. With electric bikes, there are numerous hurdles to jump over to satisfy airlines and shipping companies the batteries are safe to fly. Once you have cleared them all, you have to satisfy customs in France that you are not importing them for sale and therefore profit. If you fail to do so, you are on the hook for import duties and maybe so time in a dark & dank Marseille prison cell.

KLM was our freight airline. With help from my friend Mark, we packaged the bikes and delivered them to the airport. As I waved goodbye to them, I wasn't quite sure if I was watching many thousands of dollars worth of peddles and spokes depart for pastures unknown. If your suitcases can end up in Nigeria when your flight is to Halifax, I assumed the chances were excellent that a couple of Uber Eats delivery riders would be using them for work in Katmandu within the week.

Seven long days later, I received an email saying they had arrived in Marseille. The details of when and how to collect them were clear as mud, so what could go wrong? There was no possible chance of fitting them in our rental Renault Clio. So we drove our rental car to a commercial rental van office in Avignon. It didn't take long to get the lowdown on how to drive a six-speed hightop diesel freight van that was clearly overkill. Sometimes you just have to settle for what’s available.

I was to pilot this behemoth from Avignon to Marseilles on the A7, where the speed limit is 130 KMH, and the crosswinds are angry. I felt like Kermit driving the muppet bus from the get go. But along came Deanna (playing Fozzy) and Hamish, our black lab, which I failed to mention earlier is now also a world traveller (playing himself).

Three of us in the front cab could not even reach an escargot’s pace on the motorway. However, ninety minutes later, we arrived at the holding facility at the airport. An hour after that, I had expended all my French skills and calories trying to convince customs I wasn't a guy trying his best to sneak e-bikes into the country to flip them for profit. Once the bikes were loaded, we began the journey back to the village and then back to Avignon to drop the van and collect the Clio. At one point, I was convinced I could open the door and run beside the truck as we climbed up toward Aix-en-Provence from Marseille. But, again, lots of effort and help from Deanna and Mark back in Victoria, and we were back home wrenching these things back into one piece from their packing boxes. As we were finishing up, one of our French neighbours approached to have a look. He asked about the bikes and where they were built. I replied that my bike was an American brand, and Deanna's was made in Germany. He paused for thought and then told Deanna that she could now easily invade Poland. And so it appears "woke" or P.C. has not yet reached the hilltop villages of Provence!

In the two weeks following, we have enjoyed the company of one of our four sons. Liam is the last of our boys to visit France and has seemed to enjoy every minute of his time here. We have seen numerous local villages, the cities of Avignon, Marseille, St. Tropez, and Nimes. Liam has a good knowledge of wines and has thoroughly enjoyed stopping in at local vineyards to taste and buy his favourites.

He has decided to start his local wine collection and keep his bottles in our cave to be enjoyed and further curated during future visits. We are happy to oblige. Liam and I are heading for Paris in the morning. We will spend my birthday getting our steps in walking around the city of light until he returns to Canada. So tomorrow we are taking the high-speed train from Avignon to Garé de Lyon. I have not been to Paris since March, and for me, it is always an overwhelmingly inspirational place.

You are now up to speed. Again, I apologize for the lack of detail in this one; I promise to up my game in future posts. Just remember, as a newly committed cyclist, I am now one of those guys that hate motor vehicle operators:

I look down on those who don't cycle.
I feel morally superior to all of you who don't avail yourself of human propulsion for transport.
I am yet to adorn myself in head-to-toe lycra, but I am still stylishly outfitted for urban and rural bike travel. Don’t think sock-head hipster on a fixie.
And most importantly, I hold this hugely hypocritic stance only when it pleases me and never when I am behind the wheel of my own rental Renault Clio.

In these circumstances, Deanna and Hamish can attest that I often exhibit the nastiest outbursts of tourette’s. I routinely have to scream "BIKE WANKERS" out of the car window as these Lycra clad TDF wannabes ride two abreast just to slow our roll along these beautiful narrow provencâl back roads.

Please keep in touch by leaving a comment, I love to hear from you.

Live well!

Mark

p.s. Most included photos were taken with the Leica Q2.