What is it about me that even when I’m on a beautiful coast, I want to go up up up? That’s a rhetorical question. No way you could begin to answer that.
The previous post was about the devil’s bridge that connects Eze with the towns heading west towards Nice below. As nice as the winding roads were going up there, once there I looked out across the high coast and something in me had to go higher. In the distance I saw la Turbie and we were off. Much less tourism in this little village with the Trophy of Augustus sitting atop the summit.
Here that is:
But after all that climbing, albeit in the car, the next goal we pushed on to reach was Peillon. Read somewhere that this was a destination that the locals headed off to to get away from the bustle of the Riviera. This we had to see, right?
The village of Peillon sits perched atop a cliff, and from a distance looks impossible to reach. Not only impossible by car-this place doesn’t look reachable by hiking. My kind of place. The narrow, winding roads reminded me of some of my favourite places in Colorado.
Of course the discussion while driving eventually came round to whether traffic going uphill or downhill has right-of-way. It was a moot point, because there was practically no oncoming traffic (uphill drivers should have right-of-way for the record).
Then, there we were-atop the cliff.
And the most curious thing? While we were up atop Peillon, I read about a hiking trail climbing farther up into the mountains. If you supposed I wanted to go up immediately, you’d be right.