Day 40 - June 17th: Ups & Downs

Les Blimouse to Barjols: 35.2 miles / 1,068 total

What a wonderful treat it was to fall into O Patio du Mas at our finish in Les Blimouse. Julie, her husband, and son own and operate the property, which sits on the mountainside with a terraced outdoor dining area and pool that overlook vines, olive trees, and then the valley. I ran right to our room—which had a patio and sliding doors—and sat down to clean my socks and shoes from the nettles when Julie walked up to introduce herself and ask if I wanted a massage. “Hell ya!” She also found four bottles of sports drink for me in a snap.

Dinner was served on the terrace, where we met a French couple, Audrey and Claude, celebrating their one-year wedding anniversary, though they’ve been together for 22 years and have two kids, 11 and 15. He’s a firefighter and she’s an urban planner. Great evening just getting to know each other in the middle of the Alps. It was so peaceful that I didn’t want to shut my eyes at 9 p.m.

Julie knew I wanted to leave early, and true to her word, she left a breakfast basket on our patio so I could head out by 7 a.m. and get in miles before the heat. Yesterday’s afternoon temperatures were stifling. Jax struggled mightily with the blacktop over the last five miles—he’d spot a patch of shade, lay down to wait for me, then pull himself up and give it everything to keep going.

Since today would be even hotter and mostly road, Jax is grounded until Friday when I hit trail again. I left across the valley and climbed the first pass a few kilometers away. Unlike every other day, I was fully drenched from the start. No wind, strong sun, and what felt like humidity. Despite a great massage, high Garmin sleep score, air conditioning, and the first double bed to myself in weeks—I just didn’t have it. Everything felt like a struggle.

After cresting the pass, I descended a long serpentine road shaded by trees but heavy with traffic. I entered Draguignan, a lively medieval town that reminded me a bit of Toulouse. Poplar trees lined the way in, and I imagined Napoleon’s troops once using this route through the Maritime Alps. That hunch wasn’t far off—Draguignan was historically strategic and is now home to France’s artillery school.

I left the town, crossed a bridge, and headed toward another climb—until Garmin started spazzing. Directions were wrong, and my location kept drifting. I ended up at a dead-end in someone’s backyard, tried hopping a fence (another dead end), then backtracked through alleys unable to locate myself on the map. Time to fire Google Maps. I knew I needed to pass through Flayosc, so I asked a road worker who pointed up some switchbacks. Flayosc turned out to be a beautiful fortified village, once protected by 11th-century ramparts. The town had narrow lanes and I found a market to restock water.

As I left, surrounded by valleys and distant mountains, I walked past the church—and Maps finally came back to life. Thank God.

Yesterday, a friend asked if I noticed anything running East to West now. Other than feeling disoriented looking at my Garmin in reverse, I’ve noticed the sun now hits me square in the face during the hottest part of the day. On the way out, I had the setting sun on my back. Big difference.

The third climb of the day took me to Tourtour, a tiny village known as Le Village dans le Ciel—“Village in the Sky.” Perched above 600 meters, it’s one of the official Plus Beaux Villages de France.

Before descending, I stopped to soak in the view: mountains all around, clouds in a wide sky, and endless trees. I made a game of jogging only under cloud cover all the way down to Salernes, another beautiful village. The energy in the town center was strong, with poplars everywhere and people gathered at cafés and restaurants. Salernes has deep roots—not just medieval, but prehistoric—and is known for its terracotta tiles, an industry still alive today.

I had felt off earlier, probably because I hit a weight low yesterday at 158, down from 170. I usually snack all day, but today I tried something different. I found a small restaurant run by a husband and wife, clearly cooking with pride for their local crowd. Hot crispy fries, a perfect cheeseburger, and an ice-cold Coke later, I left full—but not too full—to start the fourth climb.

As I ran up the winding road against traffic, a French policeman in a passing car shouted, “What are you doing on the road?!” I looked ahead—no cars—then crossed to explain. He went ballistic: “Get off the road! There’s a parallel road below!!” And sure enough—there it was, my old friend the Voie Verte. I jumped down to it and followed it straight into Sillans-la-Cascade, a postcard-perfect village with a waterfall that drops 44 meters into a blue-hued river. The village dates back to the 11th century and once had fortified walls and a château. I refueled at a food truck and jogged 6 peaceful kilometers along the river. People were picnicking, sunning, and swimming. I was in heaven.

Sadly, it ended at a juncture. Google Maps showed a right, then a left—and the trail ahead was clearly overgrown and rarely used. On the map, it was barely more than a blur. Already at 42 km, it would’ve meant another 12k through remote mountain terrain. The alternate route: 15k by road. With dark clouds building, I made the easy call—stay on the road.

The detour left the main highway and onto a quiet mountain road that wove across a high plateau. I saw no one. My guess: there had been a forest fire here in the past five years. The oaks were all young—10 to 20 feet tall—and covered in what looked like Spanish moss, stretching across the hills like in my home town of Jacksonville.

At around 50 km, I turned onto an old logging road—well-defined but overgrown. It was the perfect way to finish. Not a soul out there. Just mountains and trees. I had agreed to stop at 50 km, but there was no way Tina could get back there, so I told her to meet me at the hotel. I coasted the final stretch into Barjols, where she and Jax were waiting in the town plaza after a monster 57 km day.

So much for how crappy I felt this morning. I’ve definitely locked into my meditative machine Zen mode!

Time for an ice-cold beer and a can of oil.

Appreciate the support.

Cheers,

David.