Gordes clings to the edge of a limestone cliff on the western side of the Luberon, its tiers of pale stone houses stacked beneath a castle like a nativity scene, and it has the kind of looks that make strangers stop their cars in the middle of the road. The view across the valley toward the Vaucluse mountains is wide and golden, and in the late afternoon the stone takes on a warm honey colour. It is a village of around two thousand, and for much of the year, it is overrun with visitors, so the experience improves dramatically if you arrive early or stay late.
Among its neighbours are some of the most photographed sights in Provence. The Abbaye de Sénanque, a Cistercian monastery founded in 1148 and tucked into a narrow valley a few kilometres away, is surrounded by lavender fields that bloom in late June and July, and monks still live there. Near the village, the Village des Bories is a cluster of ancient dry-stone huts, built without mortar, whose origins are debated, with some dating to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and others perhaps earlier. During the Second World War, Gordes was a centre of resistance and suffered reprisals from German troops, and artists including Marc Chagall and Victor Vasarely later settled in the region.
On a motorcycle, the village itself requires care. The streets are steep, narrow and cobbled, and in high season they are jammed with walkers, so most riders will find it better to park at the edge and walk up. The roads around Gordes, though, are among the most pleasant in the Luberon, with good surfaces, easy curves and views of vineyards and cherry orchards. The Sénanque road is narrow and can be crowded in lavender season. Do not count on fuel in the village itself, so fill up in Cavaillon or L'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, a town with nearly seventeen thousand people and famous antiques markets, which lies about twelve kilometres away.
Finish the day with a drink on a terrace as the stone cools. From above, the valley fills with shadow and the first lights come on, and the whole place settles into a quiet that feels like it belongs to another century.