It was the 1st of December when I reached Provence and the light changed. I pulled over by the side of the road when I saw the archetypal vineyards and I felt indescribably happy, like I’d made it somewhere different, somewhere I’d only seen in pictures. I made a proper coffee and just sat on my stool and looked at the countryside around me, somewhat surprised I’d made it this far.

I planned to have a much needed shower and hair wash in the city of Aix-en-Provence and then find a park up for the night and explore the city the next day. It didn’t quite go to plan and I’ve yet to explore it but I did visit nearby Montagne Sainte-Victoire the mountain that Cézanne frequently painted, capturing it in all seasons and different lights of the days and months. I captured it in the frame of my wing mirror…