Alpes-de-Haute-Provence to Millau etc.

Well, here I am and the technology seems to have come together, so here goes with my 1st ride report. Planning stage is here:
http://www.ukgser.com/forums/showthread.php?t=312753

I'll update when I can, but will be a few days behind most of the time.

A couple of weeks round southern France on the bike, end Sept - beginning Oct 2012

Friday 21st. Left work about 4pm, good run to the A1, then miserable drizzle, mizzle, spray, dreich, yuck! The satnav (new Garmin) developed a mind of its own after I stopped for petrol & a bite and decided to take me on the back roads. Finally got back on the M11 and rain stopped about QE bridge. Ducking & diving around London in the dark, down M20 to Folkstone. Felt smug nipping past the queues of cars at the train, then they made me wait and board last “we can't put a car behind a bike”. Suits me, actually. Except the driver in front fell asleep during the crossing and the guard had to wake him up and tell him to shift before I could move!




A mile or so from the French end of thetunnel to the hotel Kyriad, who had kindly left a message on my phone with my room number and the gate code, as there was no night porter. Secure parking, under my room window – sorted! Room small but comfortable, free wi-fi and English Freeview on the telly. Recommended!



Saturday 22nd. A late start, 9:30 for breakfast “mais, c'est seulement 8:30 en Angleterre madame!”. Plenty ham, cheese, sausage, bread, cornflakes, fruit – will keep me going most of the day. "The last bike in the carpark" - and so to the autoroute...

734km from Calais to Hotel Bayard, Lyon. About 8 hours riding. Not as tedious as I had imagined. The autoroutes weren't busy, well-maintained, 130kmh (about 85mph) is a good cruising speed without needing to watch for les flics and the service areas (aires) are frequent, clean and not the same rip-off as in UK. The standard of driving seems better than in UK, especially lane discipline. The bike's about 10% down on miles per tank, possibly due to the 10% ethanol they sell as fuel over here. About the same amount of Euros here as in £ back home, though, so I treated it to a tank of super-duper-ultimate-98 octane-special go-juice for a couple of Euros extra. We'll see if this improves the mpg – may be cheaper if it does?



I found it interesting to pass through regions of France at high speed. Picardie: not roses as I expected, but the smell of onions and/or garlic being harvested. And I do believe I smelt a pickle factory, very savoury and vinegary. From flat agriculture to rolling forested hills further south. A veritable list of French delicacies: “vous etes en Champagne”; “vous etes en Bordeaux”; Cotes de Beaune; Dijon; Nuits St George; Macon...

Finally, Lyon. I had taken a phone call from the hotel manager while I was filling up about 200km north of Lyon “very sorry Monsieur Cook, but we have double-booked your room”. Oh cock! “but we have a larger room at our other hotel, only one km from Place Bellecour, with free breakfast”. OK, let's see. Result! A suite with 4 beds! Party dans mon chambre later ;-) OK, maybe not.

Late, knackered, but surprisingly not a sore arse despite 300 miles yesterday and 450 miles today. Another recommendation for Tony Archer's upholstery skills (and only ¼ the cost of those overpriced, over-rated Yank seats )

Brasserie George recommended by girl on hotel desk, but very busy Sat night, so I stroll back towards Bellecour and find a nice little bistro where I have an enormous steak and a few glasses of wine. Brasserie maybe tomorrow.



So to bed (but which one?). I eventually settle for the bed near the window. Open the window and find that I am looking at the inside of the scaffolding which covers the front of the hotel during stone-cleaning or refacing, whatever. Hope the workmen don't do Sundays! Zzzzzzzzzzzz...

Sunday 23rd dawned grey, damp and drizzly, so I went back to bed. When I went down for breakfast, it had stopped raining, but was still overcast. “Sun by 10am” said the guy on the desk and, bugger me, he was right!

Lyon is quite big (France's second city). Having easily navigated from Place Bellecour to my hotel yesterday, I spent an hour or so walking in a big circle without finding the biggest square and the actual centre of the city. On the way, I bumped into Andre Marie Ampere, after whom the unit of electric current is named, and a few other stony-faced denizens of the city. I also stumbled on a puppy-market and a few other markets selling more conventional produce.











The big guy looks like he's choosing one to have for his dejeuner!

When I finally arrived at Place Bellecour, it was turned into a roller derby! The annual roller-blade races were happening and people of all ages were tearing round and round the square (which had been closed to traffic and the roads fenced off) on inline skates.

The races were marshalled by the local “Chapter” of the Harley gang, who looked quite comical with their hi-vis vests over their back-patched cut-off leathers and denim jackets.

The roller-blade races made sense of my getting bumped from my hotel booking and I was grateful not to have been disturbed by the revelling of the skaters last night or the preparations this morning!

The horse-mounted statue is King Louis the umpteenth, by the way.











I saw this UK-registered 1150 abandoned in a corner of Place Bellecour - is it one of ours?

Up on the hill, over the river, was the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière, a 19th – century Catholic folly and some Roman ruins, including an impressive amphitheatre. Worth a look, I thought, but first the old town or “Vieux-Lyon”.

I elbowed my way through a few more Sunday markets on the riverbank. The smells were wonderful, roasting chickens and pork, pickled olives and garlic, cheeses by the score and various hams and sausages. Shame the camera doesn't do “smell-o-vision”, I thought.

There was a film or TV crew shooting the stalls and the punters, interviewing some – maybe for a tourist promotion or similar. I strolled over the modern footbridge to the old town.

The medieval quarter of Lyon is fascinating, very picturesque and interesting, but seething with tourists and overpriced.

The other cathedral, Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Lyon, at the foot of the hill, by the river is properly Gothic, in contrast to the Victorian confection at the top.





By this time, the temperature was in the mid-high 20s and I didn't fancy slogging up all the steps, so I took the funincular railway to the top.







They say that, on a clear day, you can see Mont Blanc. Not today, but the nearby Radisson hotel looks a bit like a mini Canary Wharf Tower...

With it being Sunday and all, the churchy things were a bit busy, so I went to look at the Roman ruins. There are the remains of 2 amphitheatres, the smaller one having a quite spectacular marble floor in front of the stage.













The 2 guys standing on the marble were calling "Allo! Allo!" at the amphitheatre, checking the acoustics, I guess. I found it hard not to call back "It is I, LeClerc".

I was getting a bit peckish and in need of a drink by this stage, so I started to wander down the hill. Even going down all those steps takes it out of a body, so by the time I got back to the riverbanks, I was properly famished and with a mouth as dry as a nun's nasty.

The restaurants in the old town looked good, but were rammed full of natives and visitors as well as having the “place to be seen dining on the terrace” surcharge on the bills, so I thought I would wander back across the river and find somewhere less busy.

The unimaginatively-named “Café Francaise” provided a really good home-made burger and chips for a modest sum and even warmed my postprandial brandy for me.





I was surprised that, despite autumn having started and conkers falling from some trees, others were still in full bloom...



After a well-earned afternoon nap, I typed this up and filed the photos. I'm reading “Mondo Enduro” at the moment and I figure I have ridden further through France in a couple of days than those pussies rode in a week ;-)

So, peckish again and hearing a beer calling me, I head out to Brasserie George. What a fantastic place! Waiters & waitresses dressed like Rene and the girls out of 'Allo 'Allo, but the place is just a fantastic art-deco salon. Pictures not mine, I didn't take the camera. A light supper of saussison en brioche, a glass of very fine IPA and so to bed.

Monday dawned, as Mondays do, grey & miserable. Normally, this would suit my Monday-morning-going-to-work mood, but it can't do that today, je suis en bleedin' vacances!!!

New woman on hotel desk, who seemed a bit snotty, in contrast to the weekend staff, who were as good craic as you can get when your English is about as good as my French. Anyhoo, she tried to charge me the going rate for a family 4-bed suite. “Non madame, je ne chosi pas mon chambre. Je suis bumped from Hotel Bayard and given this room, no choice. You should just charge me for une petit chambre”.

Well, I figure she couldn't be arsed arguing with a stroppy Englishman with a French accent like the gendarme from 'Allo 'Allo, so I got the price halved.

My life sometimes seems like a crazy merry-go-round, but I'm sorry I didn't get invited to the party which produced that pile of empties!





And into the traffic of Lyon, heading for Voiron, where they bottle & store Chartreuse liqueur. The green stuff was one of Dad's favourites, so I thought I might do a pilgrimage, buy a bottle and toast his memory.

It's distilled at the monastery a few km away, but that's not open to the public. Parked up next to the town hall just as the drizzle started. Went into the nearest cafe (Café Absinthe) for a coffee and to avail myself of the facilities.

A couple of friendly ladies behind the bar were willing to be chatted up as long as I was buying, so I thought I would try an Absinthe, having never imbibed of the “Green Fairy” before. It now seems to be all the rage and fashionable, but only recently has become available in many countries.

A bit of an anticlimax, actually – I had expected something akin to an LSD trip, but it was just like tastier Pernod. There was a ceremony, involving a special strainer and a sugar lump, but it still didn't do it for me. Between the ladies' halting English and my worse French, we established that it is now legal and harmless because the primary herb involved in its making (artemisia – wormwood, I believe) is only toxic during certain times of the year. So, forbid it's harvesting during the toxic phase and Vincent keeps both his ears, but the world becomes a duller place.

So I left the bike parked near the Town Hall and strolled the km or so to the Caves de Chartreuse.



Mistake, as just as I was reading that the place was shut until 2pm, the heavens opened – water was rushing down the street a few inches deep. I had to duck into a bar and drink beer until the rain subsided to a mere torrential downpour. Walked back for the bike and parked next to the exhibition.



I won't spoil the surprises, but go to www.chartreuse.fr if you want to know the history – it is fascinating. The only remaining mysteries are the actual 130-herb secret blend and what “3D Film Relief” means on the sign outside...

Looks like you had a great time, and you're a lazy fecker, even I managed to walk up the stairs, cos the Funiculare was shut
Great report and piccies though. Thanks for sharing

Rob

franco said:

Looks like you had a great time, and you're a lazy fecker, even I managed to walk up the stairs, cos the Funiculare was shut
Great report and piccies though. Thanks for sharing

Rob

Click to expand...

Hi Rob & all, back home now with a decent internet connection - sorry for the hiatus, but I just got bored sitting in hotel rooms waiting for error messages from photobucket etc.

Today, have domestic stuff to sort, but will try & finish report evenings this week. Nice to know folks are interested and yes, "lazy fecker" is my middle name!

More soon...

Ian "lazy fecker" Cook

Good report, looking forward to more.

OK, finally got some time alone with the confuser!

So, onwards and upwards (now I know why my satnav reads altitude). I headed for the “Ideal Palace of Postman Cheval”. What a fantastic, crazy place. If you want the detailed lowdown, google it, but essentially there was a postman whose 1st wife and daughter both died and so he went a bit loopy (or maybe sane) and built this massive folly over the course of 33 years. Look up “fantastic” and “extraordinary” in the dictionary. Such words are over-used nowadays, but his place is both, and more. I have about 100 pics, but I'll just post a sample. Check out the website for more info.







It's now heading for 6pm and I'm not sure what to do. It'll be dark before 7:30 and it's over 100km to Die, via the Col de la Machine. I figure I'll stay somewhere near here and go over the mountain tomorrow. Tried St-Nazaire-en-Royans which had an aqueduct and a very pretty lake complete with paddle-steamer, but no hotels, neither did St Jean-en-Royans, so I thought I could make Hotel Col de la Machine before dark. If it's open.

The road started out good, with a well-maintained surface and smooth curves, including easy hairpins. Then the “shortest distance” programmed in the satnav took me along a few steep, unpaved, interesting tracks, but nothing too technical, just a bit slower than I'd planned. The Col de la Machine was on me before I knew – I'd kind of expected that the hotel was at the bottom end, before the pass. Gobsmacking isn't in it. The road has been blasted out of the side of the mountain and in some places through the mountain. It would have been excellent if the maintenance hadn't left loose gravel here and there, as I found myself skiting sideways on bits of a road where predictable direction & progress would seem essential. I stopped for a couple of pics, but it was dropping dark, so I'll have to go back again tomorrow to do it justice and take more pics )






So, here we are at the Hotel Col de la Machine, which is open, bigger than expected and very nice. The satnav is showing almost 3,500 ft and it's only Monday! The only other residents are Sally & Patrick from Cheshire, who are doing a bit of motorcar touring – heading for Annency tomorrow, against my advice and they won't even consider bulletproof vests. But, if it wasn't for them, the place would feel a bit like “The Shining”. “Here's Johnny!”



The Gaffer let me put the bike in his hotel garage, which was nice. I spent the evening discussing bikes with Patrick, who likes bikes, especially BMWs, but never got around to doing anything about it after a couple of ill-advised Triumph 250s in his youth. I also discussed politics with Sally, who initially struck me as a Daily Mail reader, but then refused to be wound up by my Tony Benn impression... Patrick was falling asleep by then, so off they went to bed and I took to my room and continued this blog. I had high-speed wireless internet for about 12 minutes, before the satellite which supplies it went behind the mountain. Apparently it comes back around 7:30 am, so I'll catch you then! Bonsoir!

PS: pack light – you only need 2 of everything.

Tuesday 25th morning, the weather seemed fair, if a bit changeable, so I set off back down the mountain, starting from here:


Fantastic view, amazing road, random patches of loose gravel to add a bit of excitement!






And so after riding Col de la Machine a few times, on to Die and then Gap. The road went past the Memorial to La Resistance, but it wasn't open until 2pm.

With no warning, the road was closed. I guess it was washed out by yesterday's heavy rain, which I had thankfully missed.



So, I went on the detour... Wheeeeeeeee!!!






I'll never be able to take the Hartside Pass seriously ever again!

Die is a typical small French town and provided a welcome lunch:




Next,on to Gap, to pick up La Route des Grandes Alpes. The Ibis hotel had free bike parking in the underground garage. Result! Dinner at Le Bistrot Gapencais, where I was entertained by the local drunk. The proprieter tried to call him off, but we had too much in common and are now firm friends. I have an invitation to stay at his place next time I am in Gap. Hope he doesn't turn up to see me in Hull

Wednesday 26th dawned dry, but overcast. The TV forecast rain later, with which the internet agreed. I briefly considered spending the rainy day in Gap rather than get soaked up the Alps, but decided to press on regardless. Glad I did - If you thought Col de la Machine was spectacular, check out Col de Bonette. Top of the world,Ma!








When I left Gap this morning, I had left my overtrousers in the top box and undid the top of my jacket - it was about 25C and quite humid. Above 2,000 metres, I figure it was only a few degrees above freezing. Fleece top, overtrousers, balaclava and heated grips on!

I bottled out of the Col de la Moutiere when the satnav said "take unpaved road" which looked like Edmund Hillary would be down it in a moment, roped to Tenzing Norgay. Maybe on a smaller bike, unladen, with knobbly tyres.

And an ambulance on standby.

So,back down to a lower orbit and onward to the mediaeval city of Entrevaux, via the Col de Cayolle and Gorges du Cians and Daluis. Lower and less twisty, but no less spectacular, cut through ancient red sandstone. This is where I got my first real feeling of autumn, from some very colourful vegetation turning from green to reds, ochres and browns.

Some colourful wildlife too - I swerved around a number of dark-brown, almost black, squirrels who were running across the road carrying chestnuts. Googling, I learned that they are red squirrels and that the darker coat aids camouflage in the forests and retains heat better in winter.





Entrevaux is a most unusual town, which I will explore more fully tomorrow. It is fortified and built at the base of an impregnable citadel high on a rocky peak.

Another reason for my visit to Entrevaux is the motorcycle museum here.

A private collection and the lifetime passion of its proprietor, it is free to visit, although donations are welcome. It occupies 2 floors of a small building in the mediaeval heart of the town and has bikes of all nationalities and eras, many literally hanging from the rafters.












The proprietor told me that they are all in running order and he sometimes rides them in summer.