“Why don’t you write more about the Rhone?” Remi asked one day while I was putting together yet another post rhapsodizing over the inherent power of the crumbly remnants of time. “What do you mean?” I tossed back with a casual tilt then scratch of my cheek. “The Rhone,” he repeated flatly. I blinked and tried to look winsome.
Yes, I know it is the reason why Arles exists, why Arelate or “town above the marshy lands” became so powerful in Roman times. Because a river runs through it. While preparing my first guided tour–given recently to an indescribably lovely group of Australian readers of this blog–its importance was a key thread of the conversation. Having the southern-most bridge before the Mediterranean while intersecting on the roads to Italy and Spain, it was the crossroads of Gaul. Spices and exotic goods came in, jars of wine, olive oil and fish flowed out, offering wealth for all involved. Times have changed–its days as an important port ending abruptly with the arrival of train transportation–but the river’s appeal has not.
I love the Rhone deeply. I stroll the recently renovated quay with Ben, my Golden Retriever nearly every day and I am not alone. It is one of the social centers of the city, where one can be lost in thought or cling laughingly to the arm of a companion. It is ever-changing depending on the light, the time of day, the season and roil of the current. Vincent Van Gogh painted it often, also drawn to its mercurial nature.
Which, I realized this morning is exactly why I don’t mention it more frequently despite it’s being such an important part of our daily lives in Arles–parce que le fleuve coule, it slips through my fingers. I can’t capture it in words or images in any way that is satisfactory to me but I can try. I grabbed my camera, called my faithful canine companion and headed out the door.
The Rhone is not neutral, it is nature. The Mistral winds can gather enough force off the winter waves to knock a strong man down. In 2003, the river rose with the rains to kiss the underside of the bridge, spilling over the banks and leaving many homeless for months. But I prefer to focus on all it gives. It is where I have gone on my darkest days, confident that the tide would pull my worries away and where Remi and I walked to celebrate buying our first house here, one whose roof terrace looked onto its shimmering surface. Perhaps that is why the Rhone makes Arles synonymous with home. It is hard to imagine living without it.
Thanks Cindy! I hope you do make it here some day–and when you do, please remember there is so much more to see than just Paris… 🙂
Yes, you have the Danube and I have the Rhone. Not to mention your rooms at Brighton. So our love of being near water is something that we have in common.
As I was taking the photos yesterday to round out this post, there was a massive tree trunk being slowly carried along the current, equal with my pace as I walked. I contemplated trying to photograph it but it was just a small dot in the middle of the river. It looked like nothing and yet was not not. Yes, the river can be deceptive and is not to be taken for granted.
Gorgeous!
These images transport me. There's something very stark yet peaceful in them. That sense of history that is lacking in many areas of the US, that somehow grounds us.
There's so much of France I've yet to explore. Espérons… un beau jour…
Fantastic post, Heather! I can't believe the timing! I was thinking last night about the reason for the historic settlement comme the oldest and large cities in France. I was thinking about the marshy Camargue, the Rhone and the Seine and about Arles and Paris. Why there in those places, what was there in ancient times that set them apart from any other location? I love the history of an area. am always very curious. This history of place or things seems to melt into my soul. Please extend my gratitude to Remi and many thanks to you for your photos and this post! Stunning… in so many ways!
Big Hugs, Chris
You live in a magical place, Heather, and Ben is such a good companion.
Best…Victoria
The scale of the rivers in Europe and America always puts our tiny little humanness back into perspective, I always fancy. So very massive.
Now, to an Australian, a trickle of water is lovingly called a creek, and what we term a "river" is what the rest of the world would laughingly refer to as a creek. For water in our country is revered beyond all other elements of nature, with it comes life and fortune. Sometimes death and destruction too – but more often life. And to its mighty power we humans can simply stand by and remember that we don't always control everything, much as we like to.
Your photographs and words absolutely do it justice – I can sense the almighty power that this beautiful river possesses. A most wonderful place to walk each day.
Sending greetings from Florida's East Coast – Thanks so much for all the beautiful pictures – Brings back so many fond memories from my visit in Sept 2011. I took some of the same pictures… They make a wonderful Screensaver:)
Heather
I have been dying to come to France. Your posts are so inspiring and make me want to visit all the more! Love your dog!
Hello Heather:
How beautifully we drifted along to the lapping sounds of the Rhone which, certainly in our ears, accompanied this post. These mighty rivers of Europe have such a primeval strength that they both tantalise and terrorise simultaneously, always capturing our hearts as well as reminding us of the power of Nature, so much more, so very much more than any Human force.
You have certainly captured here such beauty, such a golden light and the deepness of waters which touch the very soul.Yes, life giving, life threatening and life enhancing, the Rhone!