Fjord fingers tickle
The Mediterranean,
Cyclists climb up them.
First thing: pack. Second thing: dash out to the end of the calanque to watch sunrise. It was amazing.
Third thing: work our little tails off to get out of the calanque. It involved some walking; I'm not gonna lie, but we did get to wave hello to our security guard friends on the way out. We made it out by reasonable o'clock, so that we could climb some more mountains to head towards Cassis. At least the last couple kilometres there were a sweeping downhill... it gave us a really great view of the fort by the sea.
Then we started towards La Ciotat. At the first fork in the road, traffic was stopped and a policeman was waving people to turn around. Um. We biked up to him, and he waved at us to turn around, too. We panicked a little; the only road other than that one in the area is a motorway, and since we're not allowed on that our route could involve some serious backtracking.
I guess he saw the crestfallen and panicked looks on our faces and/or the loads of stuff on our bikes, but anyway he said that we would be permitted to pass, provided we went on foot. We dismounted our bikes and started hiking.
On the way up the hill, we were passed by several emergency vehicles going both directions, and helicopters circled overhead. We fantasized about what might be going on: a giant accident? An exploded truck?
It turned out to be an enormous forest fire. As we headed further up, fire trucks lined the road and the air was choked with ash. It was not pleasant to bike, but we didn't have time to walk that distance, so we hopped back on. Somewhat ironically, many of the fireman were taking a smoking break.
The smoking, black trees continued for kilometres along the road. It was obvious where the fire had leapt across the road, too, and there were parts where firemen were still battling smaller blazes. News crews were on hand in case things got interesting again. No cars were passing through, but we did see a couple other cyclists. The road was soaked with some magenta fluid that we speculated was fire retardant.
The air eventually cleared, and the rest of our ride to Toulon was uneventful. Toulon was also uneventful, but it marked the place where we turned to head into the mountains and off the coast once more.
Our road followed the motorway for some distance, making it a less-than-scenic ride. Eventually, it turned off at a steeper angle and found its way through small towns untouched by the four-lane road. That was pleasant.
Our last stop for the evening was at an E. LeClerc in Le Luc, where we picked up a couple vegetables for dinner and some Q-tips (hurray!) and other miscellaneous items (nice thread, etc.). Le Luc is unfortunately at the intersection of two motorways and the smaller-but-still-sort-of-major road that we were following, so it didn't afford many good locations for stealth camping. It seemed that no one cared, though; trucks were parked all along both sides of the road, their drivers obviously catching some sleep for the night. We found an abandoned building next to an abandoned gas station and set up in the parking lot amid graffiti. This ground is terrible... it's loud... sigh, another night with poor sleep.