Day 38 - June 15th: Pincer Move
Montpellier to Vauvert: 25.6 miles / 1,005 total
Happy Father’s Day!
Thanks for the note, Jacob C.—it reminded me why I do this. When you follow the news, it’s easy to believe the world is unraveling. But on this journey, I’ve found the opposite in the people I meet—kindness, decency, and generosity in every corner. It doesn’t negate the challenges we face globally, but it helps reframe the picture. I’ve learned that if I show up curious and open, I almost always leave with something valuable. I still think back to the lunch Ted and I shared with Menalque, the French mercenary, and his girlfriend—complete strangers who invited us off the trail and into their lives for a meal. He’d been stationed in Iran and said most people he met there were no different than anyone else: simple, kind, and human. Especially relevant with the mideast sitatuion.
Christina, Jax, and I rolled into the Zenitude Hotel at 5:30 p.m. after the extraction. Just enough time to wash clothes, shower, ice, and knock out yesterday’s blog before heading to dinner. My spirits got a boost when Dave called from Oregon—he was driving his son Carter home after finishing the semester. Turns out they’ll be in Croatia when we’re passing through. If timing works, we may link up near Split for a trail run or dinner.
Being in a larger city like Montpellier meant more hotel options, so we chose Zenitude—a hotel & spa—in hopes I could get a massage. No luck. Fully booked. The consolation prize: a solid three-course menu du jour and a decent night’s sleep. Or so we thought. At 1 a.m., the room turned into a heat chamber. The A/C had shut off, and between the language barrier and cryptic console settings, I couldn’t figure it out. No staff at the desk either. Christina cracked it after 15 minutes of trial and error, just as I was mentally preparing to run through the night to avoid lying in a pool of sweat. She was…motivated.
Today’s plan was our pincer move: we reached Vauvert—one day’s run from Arles. Tomorrow, instead of going east to Arles, we’ll drive east about 260km to Grasse near Nice, and begin running back toward Arles to meet Monica, Peter, and Laura at our Airbnb Friday. I’m hoping Laura and Peter will run into Arles with me, then we’ll take Saturday off and finish the section from Arles to Vauvert on Sunday. That closes the loop. Then Christina and I return to Grasse and resume heading east toward Istanbul.
Physically, I’m still pretty beat up from two days ago. One of five or six things could flare up at any moment—lower back, groin, right knee (hyperextended), left shin (old friend), upper respiratory. They rotate in and out. At this point, I’m so used to it that I just laugh at it. The Mental v Physical heavywight fight hasn’t stopped the show but I am keenly aware that anything could derail this entire run if I let my guard down for one second.
Bill mentioned electrolytes. I didn’t bring it up earlier, but I’ve been tuned into that. My approach is twofold: mostly I listen to cravings, which lean toward salty/briny foods—anchovies, olives, pickled things. Even that McDonald’s yesterday hit the mark with sodium. I carry S-caps as a backup but rarely use them.
As I moved from town to town—today they were strung together more tightly—I noticed again how France’s tree-lined roads offer shade and symmetry, especially during long hot stretches. Turns out Napoleon initiated this practice, planting rows of trees along roads for shade, orientation, and wind protection for his troops. Most are poplars, replaced every few decades. Today, they’re a gift to any traveler on foot.
My 41 km route today was one of the least scenic legs of the journey—just a series of shoulderless roads connecting towns via the N113. No Jax today—too much pavement, too much heat. I passed through Castelnau-le-Lez, once a small fortified village north of Montpellier, now a residential suburb. Then Le Crès, Vendargues, Baillargues, Saint-Brès, Lunel, Mas de Viala, Mas de la Tour, and Almargues.
Lunel stood out to me as it was once a medieval Jewish intellectual center during the 12th century, with scholars who helped translate Arabic and Hebrew texts into Latin—part of the broader wave of knowledge transfer that laid the groundwork for the Renaissance.
Sleep-deprived, I floated through the day in a haze. Intermittent rain gave way to glaring sun. My eyes half-closed, I just kept moving forward.
There’s a pâtisserie/boulangerie in every French town—it’s one of the constants. Often family-run, serving espresso, baguettes, and maybe a pastry or two. Locals stop in daily. In some towns, there are even two—side by side. They’re not just bakeries. They’re anchors.
At 2:45 p.m. sharp, Christina pulled up to our meeting point in Vauvert. Right on time. I was a sweaty mess. I learned from the Marathon des Sables that you can get by on a liter of water when needed, so I rinsed off at a park and changed into shorts and a T-shirt for the 3-hour drive east to Grasse.
Onward! I appreciate the support -
Cheers,
David
