Day 43 - June 20th: Friends
Salon-de-Provence to Arles: 34 miles / 1,154 total
Ibis, our chain hotel for the night, was about as good as it gets on this trip—two rooms, a double bed for me, a single for Christina (which is like a double for anyone else since she’s so tiny), and most importantly, functioning air conditioning. After a surprisingly good dinner buffet, we both slept like babies.
A little niggle popped up in the arch of my left foot over the last few days. Lisa suggested going back to compression socks and icing. With Ted’s Theragun on hand, I think it’ll be okay—a day off will help consolidate the fitness gains either way.
Jax and I were raring to go this morning. Somehow he knew it was his day—he blocked the hotel door like, “you’re not leaving without me!” With a 100-degree forecast, we were out by 7:15 a.m. I grabbed a quick breakfast, and off we went.
The Via Aurelia was just 500 meters from the hotel. Since we were on the main highway, we hadn’t seen much of Salon-de-Provence, but when we passed through the center, it was stunning. The town, dating back to Roman times, is best known as the final home of Nostradamus, whose tomb lies in the Collégiale Saint-Laurent. It also boasts the Château de l’Empéri, a 9th-century fortress that once protected the Holy Roman Empire’s eastern flank.
I found the Via Aurelia trail marker—a white stripe over a red one—and followed the signs, double-checking the phone to stay on course. Once out of the city, we were back on quiet country lanes, and Jax found a stream alongside the road—a small miracle given the forecast.
A few kilometers in, I hit a fire road that climbed up along a ridge below the hills. The air was still dry and coolish, and with the wind in my face, I felt alive. On my right, mountains. On my left, wide valley views. Road and trail are two separate worlds—when you’re on one, it’s hard to imagine the other even exists.
At 10 km we passed Eyguières, but didn’t enter the village. The trail passed between vineyards and olive groves—textbook Provence—and we were moving with real purpose, excited that friends would soon join.
At 20 km, we dropped into Aureille, a small Provençal village dominated by the ruins of a medieval fortress on a rocky peak. Once a defensive lookout, the village has held onto its agricultural soul—olive oil and wine production still anchor its economy. We found the one bar in town, grabbed a coffee, Coke, and water, then pushed on
The backcountry passes after that were stunning—but the heat was climbing. I was starting to worry about water for Jax, since the streams had disappeared with the trails. High in the hills, we found a water sluice carrying flow down to the lowlands. We crossed it and dropped into a valley, arriving at a lush golf course. The canal ran along its edge, and Jax jumped in and out like a puppy again—cooling off, having fun.
I hadn’t had signal all morning, but at the course, messages came through: Christina had picked up Laura & Peter and they were heading our way, tracking me via Find My iPhone. We exited the golf course back onto fire roads, then to a narrow lane that ran alongside the canal. I heard honking—Peter leaned out the car window and yelled, “Let’s go!” The reinforcements had arrived.
It was a huge boost. The three of us walked together down a country lane in the middle of France—surreal and joyful. Our first stop: Maussane-les-Alpilles, a fairytale town with stone houses, fountains, and one of the prettiest centers I’ve seen. The Alpilles mountains loom in the background, and Roman ruins are scattered nearby. The area was once part of a Roman farming colony, and olive oil from here has been prized for centuries. We had a relaxed lunch at a café before setting out again.
Out of town, the trail climbed hard under a blazing 99-degree sun. No shade. It was a trial by fire for Laura and Peter, but we kept the pace slow and soaked up the company and conversation.
After 13 km, we arrived in Fontvieille, a village best known for its connection to writer Alphonse Daudet. His windmill still stands on a nearby hill. The town was once a quarry site, supplying stone used in Roman Arles and beyond. Fontvieille has that Provençal feel—sun-washed stone, sleepy charm, and deep roots.
Christina, now with Monica onboard from Marseille, swung through and picked up the crew. I finished out the final 10 km solo, soaking in the last stretch into Arles—where we’re now settled in our Airbnb and heading out to dinner.
Time to celebrate friends, family and a day off!
Thanks for the support.
Cheers,
David
