A travers les Bouches-du-Rhône méconnues (à pieds et en packraft) (EN subs)

“Quand je quitte la Capitale
Pour retourner dans mon Midi
Par une émotion sans égale
Toutes les fois je me sens pris
Et quand le train m’approche d’Arles
En arrivant près d’Avignon
Le moindre petit coin me parle
Je crois entendre une douce chanson.”

(C’est un refrain de Provence, Alibert, 1938.)

D’Aigues-Mortes à la mer à pieds et en packraft.

Autres musiques empruntées :
Massilia Sound System – Ara Lo Traobar Es Dins la Dansa
Gypsy Kings – Hotel California (remix)
Nicolas Saboly – De bon matin pèr campagno
André Campra – O Jesu amantissime
Lion Free Music – Silent film background instrumental
Jul – On m’appelle l’ovni

Trips where few people go The unappreciated Rhône estuary [1938 french song] :
♫ When I leave Paris ♫ ♫ To return to my South ♫ ♫ by unparalleled emotion ♫ ♫ each time I am taken ♫ ♫ Then when the train approaches Arles ♫ ♫ passes near Avignon ♫ ♫ Every little corner speaks to me,
I begin to hear this sweet song ♫ ♫ This is a chorus of Provence,
a chorus that rises victorious ♫ ♫ It’s the song that rocked my childhood,
it puts some sunlight into my heart ♫ Hello non-french speakers 🙂 Third day of May 2025.
I am in Aigues-mortes in the Gard district. I’m alone for a new adventure,
which will consist of visiting some of the most remote, unsanitary, obscure but still beautiful areas of all the Bouches-du-Rhône district. I have taken a packraft with me. Using this inflatable boat, I plan to take a path almost never done by anyone these days. I will try to cross the little Camargue, the Great Camargue and the gulf of Fos. Three micro-regions, three ambiances.
One week on the fringe of many things… 9/11 joke : done I’m walking near the Bourgidou canal, used from the XVIIIe to 1940’s I planned to packraft it but the wind is against me. Then I will stay on the towpath. For the next 24 hours it’s pure unknown territory.
I have never been there at least. I don’t have any GPS or detailed map. But I studied a lot, and went through tons of
satellite pictures of the district. I rest in the remote and charming ruins of the Peccaïs fort. Used as a prison in WW1, and before to protect the land against piracy, (which existed until XIXe century) and especially to monitor the salt business, huge here since the antique Roman era. Here is our first bunker. I ignored it for a long time, but there are many bunkers and fortifications on the french mediterannean coast. From various eras, the most recent were part of the “Sudwall” constructed during german occupation in WW2. But I’m not here for those bunkers, nor to remake already done urbex videos. However, if some abandoned buildings are interesting or can be used as shelters, we will make this detour. Sea sickness. My first “portage” I pack up and will continue by foot until the sea. The last time I was sea sick was near Biarritz, on the Atlantic coast, some surf lesson in the 2000’s. I threw up. I threw up on my rental surfboard. B-but I was unaware… Ye Ole Drunk Fox Movies Productions The worst bridge of the Rhône estuary There are rabbit holes everywhere, this is some serious warren [untranslatable french joke] First camp. Windy but surely well hidden. Here we go again.
I will tell you slowly fallacies and jokes for the whole week. You may already know my recipe. What’s this flying thing ? [Reference to the famous hip hop producer Jul from Marseille, and his song “On m’appelle l’Ovni” (“They call me UFO”). How unfunny it is when explicated…] Next episode soon.