Castellane

The chapel atop the Rock of Castellane welcomes the weary pedaler. It is visible for the last few kilometers into town. Believe it or not there is a path right up the cliff face. One night on the Feast of the Assumption I was having dinner in the square. It was dark and the rock itself wasn't visible. Suddenly I noticed a line of wavering lights seemingly mounting up through empty space. It was a torch-lit processional climbing to the chapel at the top. When the torches reached the top they were tossed up in the air, lights on the chapel came on and there was much cheering and even some fireworks.
Castellane is a very busy town. All sorts of sporting adventures are available from here; hiking, cycling, rafting and kayaking down the river, even hang gliding. There are innumerable campgrounds surrounding the town. Since my cooking kit is essentially my Visa card I generally stay in this one, only a ten minute walk from the town center and the restaurants. There are a some bike campers here but Americans are rare. So rare, in fact that on more than one occasion I have called ahead for an emplacement in the shade saying, "C'est moi, l'americain sur velo". But it is possible to find a quiet sqare and simply have a cold frothy beer.
What to do after dinner? There's no movie or theatre but there is the unending drama of boule. Boule is somewhat like bocce.
It is played with intensity in France almost anywhere there is a moderately level piece of bare ground. Boule is serious business. There is no joking around. Until just a few years ago it seemed to be a men only sport. It goes on day and night in the main square.
A walk around town, a last glass of red in a cafe on the square. The streets are becoming quieter now. It's time to walk back out to camp and snuggle down into a nice warm bag.