I was worried about maintaining my Riviera tan after leaving the coast of France. But as we learned quickly, the farther we drove into the Provence region the hotter it became. On our way to Vallon Pont d'Arc, a popular town on the Ardeche River Gorge, we stopped here and there to see the blooming lavender fields. The south of France is the home of perfume and the flowers needed for it. Lavender, one of many flowers used to create the essential oils in perfume, grows particularly well in the Provence region and so we drove to see it. Sadly, we were about two weeks early for the start of the season so the flowers were a muted purple, still opening up. But at the right angle and in the right light, the fields were still impressive. Stretches of land and hillsides covered in the bulbous purple bushes lined both sides of the country road. From one side the lavender seems to grow in wild chaos but from the other it is in perfect rows, crawling up the hills. I loved this part of the trip because I recently fell in love with lavender after going picking in Hillsboro, Oregon last summer with my friend, Kinsley. Using the dried flowers I made lavender chocolate chip cookies that were to DIE for. Entire cookbooks are dedicated to lavender-use and I liked the idea of exploring it much like Amy Adams did with food in general in Julie and Julia. But, instead of picking lavender we bought some lavender honey from a small town co-op that produced it and I was just as happy.

After the amount of roadside lavender fields dwindled, we arrived in Vallon Pont d'Arc, ready for some outdoor adventure. We spent the first day beaching it at the famous natural arch that stands over the river in the gorge. We swam around in the surprisingly warm water and swung from ropes into the water like we were kids again. We put our sun block and newly purchased hats to good use that day. The following day we wandered around the touristy town looking for agencies that offered kayak rentals. We found one that not only had good prices on but also offered free accommodation (if you had your own camper or tent) in their grassy parking lot. They even had hot showers and toilets! So, after spending the first night in a nearby campground, we relocated and spent two days parked for free. It felt marvelous.

Once we found this agency, we paid to rent two individual kayaks for the following day; a 5 to 6-hour paddle down the Ardeche River through the gorge. That evening we watched Germany play Portugal at a bar after a fabulous dinner of smoked salmon over baked potatoes. I was glad I ate those carbs because the paddle the following day was a much-needed but exhausting workout for my torso and arms. We put in our boats around 9:30 a.m. and spent the next 6 hours paddling through rapids, trudging through the quiet sections and snacking on the shore. Steve brought his nice camera (in the dry box) and we devised a system for capturing the "moments". Before a good rapid one would idle while the other got out on the shore above the rapid and went down below to take pictures. Once one of us was through the rapid we would switch. It seems nerdy but we got some great pictures.

Unfortunately we didn't do this for what turned out to be the most memorable "moment" of the entire day. The staff had told us that there was one rapid (the one after the green sign, we thought he said) where you have to stay to the right or you will get stuck in the pool behind the boulders or flip over. Many rapids earlier we had seen the green sign and stayed right and been fine. We thought…man that was easy; I wonder what the fuss was all about? Well we found out why when we came down into a rapid that was jammed with people swimming next to capsized boats and struggling to get out of the swirling pool. We waited for the main area to clear and went down, not at all thinking that this could be the rapid the guy at reception meant. I went first and was swiftly taken straight to a gigantic boulder the curved slightly overhead where the water was crashing and frothing. I couldn't get out of the current and hit head on. I thought I would be ok until my boat sided-up with the rock and the current pushed me up against it, swiftly flipping me over. I lost a flip-flop (not the recommended footwear) and swam worriedly toward it while still trying to see what Steve's fate was. As I looked back I saw he was doing nearly the same thing I had but instead of hitting straight on he hit side first and was flipped faster than a hotcake. He was under for several seconds longer than I liked and my flip-flop panic was silenced. He came up gasping with the look of death on his face and didn't even notice he'd lost his hat and sunglasses until we had swam to the side. His hat was not far so he swam after it but the sunglasses were lost. He dove down a couple times to check but found it was far too deep. We pulled our boats up on the edge and panted and starred as countless others repeated our mistake. It looked funnier from a distance.

Having retrieved my flip-flop and Steve, his hat, we continued along. The clouds had been shading us from the hot sun most of the day, which was a blessing because no amount of sun block would have saved us. It even rained at one point, each drop echoing on the surface of the calm water with perfect rings. We eventually came out of the gorge and to our meeting point. We pulled out our boats and waited to be picked up. It was a fun day; I spent the next couple days with aching abdominal muscle pain, a pain I quite like, as we made our way toward Paris.