I am quite sure, in fact, that many seasoned tourists come to this corner of Provence knowing what they want to see, but we had a nice surprise. To begin with, this destination was not really a destination for us, but more like a stopover and a hope to find pleasant company in the rustic French environment. But luck favors beginners and the ignorant, so we found ourselves in the middle of some sort of geological craziness, performed by the river Ardèche on the canvas of limestone which the entire place seems to be made of.
The gorge is a fantastic site, convenient for any kind of transport: there is a scaryish road that ties its knots following the edge (sometimes a bit too close) of the gorge has a lot of stopping points each with a more breathtaking view than the last one, it is possible to rent a canoe and try your luck paddling the river and there is a network of trails.
To fill the day with a sense of purpose, I stuffed the GPS device with a bunch of geocaching locations along the road (or so I thought) and off we went, starting with one of the biggest attractions: the cave of Saint Marcel, where a one hour long tour in +14°C temperature was a welcome chance to cool down. The geocaching sites that I chose were adjacent to the viewing points along the road, and many a time was a camera-pointing crowd of tourists amazed at the obviously insane group of five people climbing the limestone in the direction opposite to the magnificent view. Some locations were a challenge for Lidia’s nerves, being too close to the edge of the gorge, and on one occasion she solemnly took the car keys from me before I went on, which I understand completely: losing a husband and the means of transportation in one go is unbearable for anyone. (Mom, if you are reading this, it was not really dangerous, I’m making it up for the sake of the entertainment value.)
At the very end of the planned trip, the heavy-looking clouds caught up with us and the rain cleared up the crowded parking lot at the viewing point in front of the Pont d’Arc, the natural bridge across the river, made by the erosion. This is where we snapped the last pictures of the day and – in the best of our habit – moved on.