2022 European trip – A “tour de France”

[Rynglieder]

Day 8 Meyrueis > Avignon (c. 157 miles)

I left Meyreuis knowing that at least to start with I would be riding some nice roads, the return down the valley of La Jonte was just as enjoyable as the previous day's ride up it and although I was riding in precisely the opposite direction to my next hotel, as intended I re-joined the Tarn Gorge at Le Rozier.

It was only a few miles alongside the Tarn before it was time to heave the bike up the side of the gorge via a series of hairpins so that I could reach Point Sublime – the name's a bit of a give-away really, a popular viewpoint that enables the visitor to take in the gorge cutting through the landscape for some distance. After reaching the top of the gorge there is still a few miles to cover through the farmland on the plateau, in fact I seemed to have been up there so long I was worried I'd missed a sign.  I was only the third vehicle on the car park so I grabbed a few moments at the railings to take some photos unencumbered by other tourists. I hadn't really done enough riding to earn a coffee, but the young lady was just opening up the kiosk, so it seemed rude not to. All in all this little detour had accounted for a fair bit of the day's mileage.

I could have done a bit of a loop around the top, but I like running along valleys so I dropped back down the way I came and continued with the river up through La Malene and just enjoying the road in front of me with its cliffs, tunnels and balconies adding to the pleasure of the gentle curves.

Another short break was taken at Saint Enemie before once again taking a planned detour to the top of the gorge where another viewpoint overlooks the town. Back down in the valley I continued with the Tarn in an easterly direction, beyond Ispagnac the gorge widened and tamed somewhat but the river remained my companion almost all the way to Florac at which point I started out on another road that had attracted my attention in planning.

It was time to join the D9 Corniche de Cévennes, a 30 mile scenic road that connects Florac with Saint Jean du Grad to the south. There are no high mountain passes, just a broad well surfaced road that snakes from hill to hill with 360 degrees of French landcape to soak in between the bends. It is one to set out on well prepared, there are no major towns or villages so refreshment and fuel options are limited. I had a breather at Col Saint-Pierre before finishing the tourist road at St Jean du Grad.

After the pleasures of the Tarn Gorge and Corniche de Cévennes, the next section of my journey proved less spectacular although this was to be expected, there were still some attractive patches and it was not a bad ride but the bar had been set too high. After a brief stop at a Tabac store in Boucoiran-et-Nozières to top up on cold drinks I continued with a series of trunk roads carried me on toward the Pont du Grad which was the first "monument" box to tick for the day. Sometimes I felt I was on the fringes of urban areas, other times I was in flat countryside with vast fields of sunflowers either side.

I was almost within touching distance of Pont du Grad when I came upon a whole heap of congestion that took me around 15 minutes to edge through. When finally clear of it I found my way onto the barrier controlled car park. This is the moment that you find out that it is going to cost €9 to get out even for a motorcycle, even for a short duration visit. The charge is all well and good for a family of four in a car intending to spend the day on the river banks, but I felt it was a bit of a rip-off for the hour I was going to take. I fixed everything to the bike as best as I could and plodded through the visitor centre, down the nearest river bank to take a picture of this ancient roman aqueduct, back up over the modern bridge and a little higher on the opposite bank for a different view. I confess that this walking around in the continuing heat and the parking fee had left me with a bit of a grump on, at least I got a decent coffee from the visitor centre, but I didn't want to hang around, I needed to push on for a shower and fresh clothes and there was still a city centre to tackle.

Avignon was only about 40 minutes away accounting for the traffic at that time of day and was fairly easy to get around. I found the entrance to the small car park at the back of the Hotel d'Angleterre fairly easily and the lady on reception shot out to open up the garage for me which was unexpected – mind you, I don't think she was expecting the bulk of the GTR, but with a bit of shuffling it was berthed for the night.
The coveted shower and clean shirt was sorted out and it was time to spend an hour or two on Avignon. Due to me being either poor or tight-fisted my hotel was at the opposite end of the city to the main attractions but still within the city walls and only 5-10 minutes walk to the main square outside the Palais des Papes. I was the usual friendly, lively city centre I had grown to expect in France but there was some event going on in the square featuring what seemed to be an 80's cover band which I found offensive to my auditory canal, so I made my way down to the side of the river Rhone so that I could take a look at the famous Pont d'Avigon which seems to strike out into the river but then give up half-way. Back in town I bypassed the dudes knocking out the Phil Collins covers, side-stepped the palace which was covered in an unbelievable amount of scaffold and walked up to the terraced Jardin des Doms.

After walking up the various ramps and steps to the summit of the gardens I found a small lake and to my delight a small bar at its side with some empty tables where I could down two beers and strike up a small cigar. The crowds in town were dispersing as I walked back down to the hotel and I went to bed reflecting on a very decent day on the bike.

[Burchy]

Pont du Gard.

You had me searching for another Roman Aqueduct until I saw the photo 😂

[O.C.]

Your reports and accompanying pictures are always a joy ....thank you     

[Rynglieder]

Pont du Gard.

You had me searching for another Roman Aqueduct until I saw the photo 😂

Sorry, I ignore the spell checker for French words and names so it's easy to get caught out!

[Rynglieder]

Your reports and accompanying pictures are always a joy ....thank you     

Thanks, still loads to get through

[Rynglieder]

Day 9 Avignon > Villeneuve-Loubet (c. 205 miles).

After chalking off breakfast and extracting the GTR from the goods trolleys and guest's bikes in the garage I rolled out of Avignon for the start of what was going to be one of the 200+ mile rides of this trip.

The urban sprawl eventually gave way to some fast, flat, straight roads between fields of sunflowers and after half an hours riding I started to find the signs for Gordes. A more rural and bike-friendly road then took me up to the town viewpoint for a chance of a snap of this old hilltop town. It was then a five minute ride up the hill through narrowing streets before pitching up at the bottom of the chateau. I took a short walk, it was once again unbearably hot and I was conscious that I was on a longer run today so it was a case of just picking up a couple of cold bottles and absorbing a little of the town.

I left Gordes on more rural roads with a range of mountains on the horizon ahead of me. The morning's ride took me over the Luberon national nature park, with one minor road after another leading me eastwards. I was very much in the hands of the Zumo, but it seemed to be behaving. Not too far along the route I came upon Bonnieux, another old hilltop town where I pulled up again for the views across the hills.

Another mixed bag of roads followed, some fast flowing, others a bit tight and with the first poor surfaces I had encountered in France, low hills still surrounded me but the adjacent fields had given over from sunflower crops to lavender. Once I had reached Manosque I knew that the Luberon National Park was behind me, but once I had crossed the River Durance I would be entering another scenic area, the Verdon National Park.

Initially the roads were broad and smooth but progress was sub-optimal due to tourist's cars cruising to look at the lavender fields, a quick twist of the throttle here and there when safe added to my entertainment. The town of Riez was not a scheduled stop, but there was a nice shaded central car park and an inviting bar which looked a good bet for a coffee and although I had enjoyed the ride so far I was ready to get off for half an hour.

Under cloudless blue sky I reached the foot of the mountain range and took the opportunity to pull up at the end of the Pont du Galetas which spans the River Verdon at the head of Lake Sainte-Croix. Another drink was taken from the case and a quick photo before starting the ascent of the mountain, through the small town of Aiguines and climbing the Col d'illoire where a belvedere offered my camera views over the Verdon Gorge.
Next up was a 25 minute ride along a twisty road cut into the side of the hill along the Verdon gorge, well above river level with some precipitous drops to my left to make sure my concentration levels were where they should be. A break came when I reached the Pont de l'Artuby, a massive single arch concrete bridge spanning the gorge. After doing the business with the camera I took advantage of a handy kiosk on the car park for yet another drink, I seemed to have a permanent thirst that I couldn't shift.

The next section of my ride was no less pleasurable for leaving the Verdon behind, fast flowing easy roads took me between mountains and valleys and on to the Prealps-d'Azure National Park where at a roadside viewpoint above Gréolières I pulled up alongside another couple of bikes. The Greek riders asked me if I would take a picture of them with their machines and then offered to do the same for me, the result of which is at the head of this write-up. Knowing that I had the built up area of the South of France resorts ahead of me I mounted up and pushed on.

The decent to the Cote d'Azur was an unexpected pleasure, yet another twisty gorge road lead me into the maelstrom of traffic around Nice.  Again, I was having to be very aware of oncoming traffic, some vehicles just seemed to be a bit casual about their positioning, other times larger vehicles were forced into the middle of the road due to overhangs – don't go so fast that you can't stop within the distance you can see...

Eventually the Zumo was taking me through a curious selection of urban back streets, the bike was casting a long shadow in front of me and I could almost smell the Mediterranean when I came upon a major junction. As there was no parking at the apartment I had booked I had noted on Google Street View there were some motorcycle bays by the Colosseum (Horse racing track) which were only 100 metres or so away. "Turn right" said the Zumo, "turn left for the Colosseum" said the signs. I should have gone left but had already positioned the bike going by the Zumos' advance warning and in rush hour traffic a quick lane change would have been a bit dodgy. Needless to say I soon found myself on the main sea front dual carriageway heading for Nice when Antibes was the direction a gentleman about town should be going. I think it was about two miles before I came upon somewhere where I could take a couple of lefts and a right go get back in the right direction.

When I came upon the Colosseum I found that the motorcycle bays had been converted to rental bicycle racks but fortunately I had a Plan B. Another 100m beyond my apartment was a dead end road leading toward the beach with 20 or so motorcycle bays and I just grabbed the last end spot. The problem with it being a dead end road was that there was a regular flow of cars coming down and then having to do a three point turn, as I was unloading the bike I had to jump off the kerb and bang on the back of a hatchback which was just about to reverse into the bike and flatten it. I caught it just in time, it made contact but other than giving the mirror a knock back and misaligning the Innovv camera lens I got away with it. I resolved to get back to the bike as soon as I was set up in the apartment and try and shift it to a better space if possible.

The apartment was on the basic side but no more or less than I expected for what was a (relatively) low rental cost – it would do. I unpacked all of the luggage, figured out how everything worked and walked back up to the bike. The evening was drawing in and the beach must have started to clear as there were now plenty of free bays in less vulnerable positions so I repositioned the bike and continued to walk up the road to the supermarket to get food for three days and a capsule for the washing machine – I had remembered to bring one from home but it had succumbed to the battering it had got in transit.

The last hour of the day's journey had been a bit of a pain but it was easily compensated by the riding I had enjoyed earlier.

[O.C.]

I really don't need to tell you again how much I enjoy your posts.....but I will...excellent
 ....again.....thank you      

[Rynglieder]

Day 10 Nice (c. 20 miles)

I spent my first morning on the Cote d'Azur carrying out the duties of Designated Washerwoman (after sending some photos home of the washing machine controls to obtain guidance from my wife who is a semi-professional in these matters). I lounged around for a while, sometimes under the air-conditioning unit and sometimes on the balcony with cold drink and cigarette but once my clean clothes were in the sun on the rack I decided I had already had enough of beach holidays. I know there are people who sit on a beach or by a pool all day drinking, but it's not for me – I get too restless. I decided I would reassure myself that the bike had survived the night and have a run into Nice.

It would be hard to get lost on this ride, just stay on the coast road with the sea on my right. Nevertheless once I reached the Old Town in Nice that road would take me no further and I suddenly realised it had become an access road to an underground car park. By luck there was a whole row of motorcycles and scooters parked up alongside the ramp so it seemed a good idea to join the throng and take a walk on foot. At least with the paniers now empty I could ditch the jacket and helmet and set off in tee shirt and jeans.

Even so I was extremely over-dressed and it was an uncomfortable slog up the paths past the Tour Bellanda and up to the Colleen du Chateau, a bit of a park with good views over the resort. I wound my way down through the streets of the old town past the cathedral, through a couple of parks and back to the Promenade des Angles where I got a decent sandwich  and cold drink before going back to the area where the bike was parked.
As my jacket had been left in the panniers my phone and wallet were in the camera back-pack which I had been carrying around with me. I dropped the bag in the top case and recall feeling it seemed oddly difficult to close, not thinking about it too deeply I heaved the jacket back on and set about the ride "home".

On returning to the parking area and making sure I was well out of the firing line of turning vehicles I tried to unload the bike. I turned the key in the top case and pushed the button to open the lid, but it wouldn't release. Thee lock was free allowing the button to be pressed, but the button just wouldn't release the catch.  After spending half an hour at the roadside fiddling with it in the unrelenting heat I decided to take off the box completely and carry it down to the apartment where I could be under the air-conditioning and hopefully get a bit more pressure on the button by pressing downwards if it was on its back.

Thankfully the apartment keys were in the pocket of my jeans so I went indoors and poked and prodded for another 10 minutes, then moving on to attacking it with any likely looking item of cutlery I could find in the kitchen drawer. The lid was eventually raised by 50-10mm and I now had a collection of spoons and forks with bent handles and a busted fruit knife – not much to show for my efforts.

I was getting nowhere and some third party assistance was required. My thoughts turned to the breakdown cover included with my Carol Nash insurance policy, I felt it was a "locked out of vehicle situation" and they would surely put me in touch with someone even if it was not covered.

But my phone was in my top case, as was my wallet and all of my documents with contact numbers and policy details... If I was staying in a hotel I would probably have got some help from reception but I was on my own here in a private rental, so what is to be done?

There was a total of eight Euros in loose change in my jeans pocket, so I picked up the whole box with the intention of lugging it across the street where there was a café bar, I hoped I would be able to demonstrate my problem and offer them the bit of cash I had to make a call home where one of the family should be able to pull up the files on my computer and try to sort something out.

It was well into the evening now and I had a nasty feeling the café would be closed, it was really for daytime beach-goer trade, but as I descended the steps with a very heavy case in my hands I met a fellow resident coming up – I tried my luck. Fortunately although a Russian lady, she spoke some English and quickly grasped my problem. As good as gold, she loaned me her phone and would not take my little money, but I was still stuck – no one picked up the phone at home. The problem in these modern times is that very few people carry phone numbers in their head, everything is locked up in your nasty little pocket device, 20 years ago I could have reeled off the numbers for most of my friends, relations, clients and suppliers but not now. Suddenly I realised that I could trawl up my sister's number from the depths of my frazzled grey matter so I want back to my new Russian friend and begged the loan of her phone again. She still would not take my money but did ask if I had any cigarettes as hers had been stolen from her on the beach that afternoon, sadly my packet of Chesterfield was also in the top case.

I got hold of Baby Sister straight away and put my problem in front of her, there was nothing more to be done than wait to see if I got a call back on the phone that had kindly been left with me. I sat down half watching French television at the same time as idly probing the gap between the case lid and base – suddenly it sprang open on a push of the button. I grabbed my own phone from my back-pack and called my sister to tell her to abandon trying to do anything. She replied that she was glad that I had got out of trouble because she was having a right argument with Carol Nash who told her that the Claims Department would not open until Monday so they would not do anything – it's something I will need to dig deeper into come insurance renewal time I think.

I returned the Russian lady's phone and split my recovered packet of cigarettes with her. At least I could go to bed knowing that I had access to my possessions and that there are still some people in the world who will go out of their way to help a stranger. An annoying episode really, usually my phone and wallet would always be zipped inside my jacket inner pocket, the heat had driven the jacket away in Nice, but I won't be locking them in any of the bike's cases in future.

[O.C.]

What a nightmare,  thankfully you managed to open the pannier....were you able to safely reattach the case ?

[pross]

 How close to having the bike damaged typical of the frog drivers I had the same a few years ago in Paris been there 2 hours someone drove into the back of me 🤬🤬.Little sister to the attempted rescue.
What a treasure she is 👌 fantastic write up as usual 👏👏👏👌

[Rynglieder]

What a nightmare,  thankfully you managed to open the pannier....were you able to safely reattach the case ?

The case dismounted without any problems, the lock was working OK, it just seemed to be the latch between the case base and lid, I'd be interested to know if anyone has had a similar problem - it's still not entirely resolved.

[Rynglieder]

How close to having the bike damaged typical of the frog drivers I had the same a few years ago in Paris been there 2 hours someone drove into the back of me 🤬🤬.Little sister to the attempted rescue.
What a treasure she is 👌 fantastic write up as usual 👏👏👏👌

Yes, she's a s good as gold 
There were some quite close calls when I got into the mountains as cars were being a bit free with their positioning on the bends. Where necessary I slowed to a crawl to make sure I was well on the right side; it's always best to assume tht there is someone out there trying to kill you.

[Rynglieder]

Day 11 - Around the Cote d'Azur (c. 40 miles)

There is a question that is sometimes thrown out; "What one item would you save from your burning house?" It was the opposite scenario this morning, what could I put in my top case that I could afford to lose? Although I had got it open it still didn't feel right and I was reluctant to snap it shut in case I lost access to its contents or lost luggage space if it was empty. It was not a problem for now though, most stuff could stay in the apartment for the day whilst I figured it out. No hotel breakfast was waiting for me so I took the short walk to the café across the road, bagged a shady table and set about getting myself around a coffee and sandwich.

The intention for this phase of the trip was to allow myself a break from riding if I needed it, a relaxed couple of days. Even so, there were still things I wanted to take a look at and I had no problem with saddling up for a short ride.

First up was the road out toward Nice again, but this time my destination was just on the western outskirts. When searching for accommodation in the area nearly every apartment and hotel had proudly proclaimed how close to the Russian Orthodox Cathedral it was, so I was left with the impression that this edifice was a "must see". I hadn't really thought it through though, after fighting through the congestion in the streets around it I realised that Sunday is a bit of a busy day for churches. I managed to cram the GTR into a gap between some cars and take a souvenir photo from outside the fence, but decided not to go any further or get involved with the singing to god.

Next on the list was the Cascade de Gairaut. This is basically a water works, but built in an attractive chalet style with a cascade of water tumbling from below it to a pool further down the hillside. From the cathedral it was a bit of a back-street commute climbing the mountains that sit behind Nice, the Zumo got me up there OK although it seemed an odd choice of streets and I found myself riding through a large steel automatic gate that rather worryingly had a flashing red beacon on the post. No other vehicles were parked at the bottom of the cascade and in fact there was a singular absence of cascade. The chalet was there above me, no water flowing, rocks a dry as bone and an empty pool. Realising there was nothing for me here and being slightly concerned that the automatic gate might have intentions of locking me in, I U-turned the bike a beat a brave retreat.

Two visits, two disappointments – what's next? Stop number three was just outside the village of La Turbie and contrary to its instructions the Zumo plonked me on a motorway as soon as it thought I was not looking. In truth I got over it pretty quickly, it is the fastest way to travel from West to East across here, it was also nice to have some wind around me given that it was yet again 30+ degrees. There was a small toll of a couple of Euros to pay on exit but it was worth it. I stopped in La Turbie as a café seemed to be beckoning me and a coffee was almost due.

The bike was moved off the village street and moved to a proper car park outside my destination so that I could more safely leave it for an hour. But it was not to be – as soon as I walked up to the entrance to the Trophy of Augustus I spotted a sign that even with my minimal French told me that it was closed today for a special event. The Trophy of Augustus is a huge Roman monument perched on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean with a bit of a park around it. I was not going to get to see it close up but I could at least access the belvedere at the end of the car park which offered some stunning views over Monaco. With another visit aborted I had time on my hand so went and had another walk around the beautiful old streets of La Turbie. At least as I left the village I spotted in my mirror that there was a nice view of the monument albeit from a distance so I pulled up and took the shot.

No far away was the Tete de Cien mountain outcrop, I rode in in hope rather than expectation given the day so far and wasn't very shocked when I came to the "Road closed ahead" sign on approach. I flicked the GTR around it intending to play my Stupid Foreigner card if challenged and managed to park the bike just before the barrier and made a start on walking the rest of the way up the road. It may all have been more enjoyable on a cooler day, I passed an old fort that had been converted to some new undefined use perhaps an observatory or radar station judging by the dome, some roofless barrack buildings that could perhaps have been explored further and then up to the headland for more views of the sea and the coastal towns below.

Deciding that the day had been a bit of a wash-out I turned back for the apartment. Naturally the Zumo had been having second thoughts and although this time I wanted to use the motorway it thought I should ride the Grande Corniche past the hilltop town of Eze. Eze might also have been worth a look but there didn't seem to be any obvious parking for the bike so I rode on a short distance and chanced upon a layby that offered views back up to the town and the sea below. It also had the benefit of a kiosk where I got a hot sandwich and a couple of cold drinks under a parasol.

It was to tedious and congested ride back down to the coast road and back to the apartment, by this time I had even abandoned the gloves and I was discovering that sweaty digits did not make for easy clutch control but after the bike was parked up in its regular spot and some of the gear put away in the apartment I could finish the day off with a beer across the street before going back to my air-conditioning and bed.

There had been several disappointments with the destinations and not many miles of really good riding but I reckoned there were probably a couple of decent photos caught of the better bits of the day to reflect on.

[O.C.]

Fantastic , thanks for sharing      

[Rynglieder]

Day 12 – Antibes (c. 7 miles)

Monaco and Menton were under consideration for a ride out on my last full day on the Med but I really didn't fancy the traffic and the heat. Instead, after a bit of a lazy morning I set the bike off in the opposite direction for the three and a half mile run along the coast to Antibes. For a short run I risked travelling without gloves, abandoned the boots in favour of a pair of trainers and completed the journey with my jacket open to the waist. The aforementioned jacket was wedged into a pannier on the Fort Carré car park and I crossed the road in anticipation of a walk around it. Closed on Mondays – hey ho.

Instead I took a stroll around the perimeter of the fort which bought me out on Antibes harbour. I think this was one of the biggest collections of super-yachts I have ever seen. Presumably there is some serious money around but it's never been in my nature to be envious or even overly impressed and I was happy to walk on by content with what life has given me.

Passing through an arch in the town wall I came into the Old Town area, this was a bit of a pleasant surprise, I had not researched Antibes for the trip so I was unsure what to expect, I suppose I had anticipated it would be beach-side apartments and high end shops but I found narrow back streets full of charming old houses as well as the bars and restaurants in the shopping streets that you would expect. I sat down outside a café bar to a late lunch of pizza washed down with two bottles of alcohol-free beer.

There was an unremarkable ride back to the apartment, although there was a fair bit left of the day I just wanted to get back and start packing so that I could vacate my accommodation quickly in the morning meaning that I could move on to the mountains– the Cote d'Azur by motorcycle had been a bit of a failed experiment.