An adventurous journey: exploring Manosque and Valensole

The only thing I needed was a problem with my scooter, but in the end everything was fine. My day turned out to be an adventure, but I’ve had similar experiences before. I think it was a good decision to finally head out into the mountains, and although there were some minor inconveniences, overall my day went well. Who would have thought I could experience so much in a simple accommodation search!

Valensole, Manosque, 2024. Friday 28 June.

Last night, I thought I had finished my day looking for accommodation. I climbed the opposite ridge, not much, just a twenty minute walk up. After the last house, I was stretching out the hammock in an olive grove when a dog started barking; never mind, I’ve had that happen before. Only that it was not tied because it appeared on the edge of the olive groves. A huge Great Dane. I was lucky that he didn’t want to catch me, he wanted to chase me away. Noh and on the soul report: I already have my bag zipped up so that I can just grab it and go. And so it was, the dog followed me to the first house. I got down to the village in ten minutes. The hammock was left strung up between two trees, lucky I hadn’t started unpacking the sleeping bag yet.

I do not like sleeping on the ground, I am less protected from animals and it is colder. After a long search, I designate a bench in the playground as my temporary home. It’s one thing not to be able to sleep, but it’s also where the local hormone-rich teenagers play and laugh. At 1am, I move to the terrace of a vacant house – opposite the caravan park. Sleep is peaceful here.

Some people have stars painted on their ceilings, and I just turn my back. I had planned to go at sunrise, but it turned out to be eight o’clock when I got back to the playground – this is a private terrace after all. Just in time too, because a guy came in walking his dog, he probably wouldn’t have said anything to me, but it’s better to avoid these situations. I feel much more comfortable in nature than in the city.

I wake up at 9:30. I start with breakfast, while the local government man mows the lawn, I move to another bench. Brush my teeth with mineral water, then tidy my bag, change my clothes, then plan my day.

At this point I am confronted with the fact that the bus back to the city leaves at eight and one; I am looking at this at ten o’clock. Ok, so I’ll head east for the remaining three hours, so at least I’ll be on my way to the olive tree where I left my hammock yesterday – I saw two nice lavender fields in the distance. So, I’m on time, so I can’t afford the leisurely walking pace of yesterday. Still, this mountain is hard on you when you’re going uphill. But the scenery is beautiful, a bit like the Bakony mountains, with big mountains to the right and left and steeply winding roads in between. The only difference is that here, a few olive trees and lavender fields occasionally flash in the distance. Well, yes, the “Petit plateau” field is close as the crow flies. As the crow flies, if I could fly because it’s on the other side of the valley, the road costs a lot.

After an hour and twenty minutes I arrive at the lavender hillside; I was about to turn back if I didn’t find it in ten minutes. No question, I want to see it up close. Of course, I obviously have no regrets. This one has a more intense fragrance, deeper colour and stronger flower stems. But it’s also meaner. I spent half an hour looking and stroking the bushes.

On the way back I take the forest, I don’t want to go round the ridge again, I stumble down the steep paths, then on the other side, gasping for air, I reach the olive grove where I left my hammock yesterday. The dog is not on the loose now. I didn’t expect to find the hammock, but I didn’t expect not to be able to take it down; the rope knots were in need; another half hour wasted.

The clock on the tower strikes half past half past when I am about to wash in the fountain again. I look like I’ve been climbing a mountain; I’m tired, my new bag is muddy; it’s waterproof, I can wash it off, and the fact that a family with three small children is watching me splash cold water all over my head doesn’t affect me at this particular moment. I leave them the bench, I lean my back against a shady wall.

This afternoon, five of us are travelling twenty kilometres on a single bus service. At two o’clock we walk towards the old town of Manosque.

A cosy little town. With the map I got at the tourist office, I can cover the entire old town in an hour and a half. I see houses ranging from the medieval-looking to the newly built. In the town hall square, I think a music school is preparing for an evening concert. While I listen to them, I suck down a beer – after the bottle of Coke I had earlier, I wonder which one is giving me a tummy ache?

This pleasant downtown reminds me of Sopron, a city about the same size and with a castle circuit between the old and new parts.

The bus departs at quarter to six, and on the walk to the station I buy a pair of shorts on sale (sixteen euros); a pink pair. I also got a new pair of shoes – more specifically, a pair of moccasins that look like leather.

At 7:30 we roll into Marseille airport in good order. I have an hour free for sightseeing. There is a striking difference between the spacious, sunny concourse of the newly opened Terminal One and the low-cost Terminal Two. Terminal Two looks like a country bus shelter. Not shabby, but without any comfort! Not a seat, not a window. Even the tiny, untidy Corfu airport feels more comfortable.

At 10pm, my scooter is waiting where I left it. One thing I don’t understand: if it hasn’t moved an inch in the last two days, how the hell did it sink twenty percent since yesterday morning?! I arrive in my room at zero forty, I’ve been pushing the scooter for an hour!