Sitting in the evening sun on the balcony of my hotel in the beautiful Vallée de la Guisane, highlander in the French Alps, I am truly physically and emotionally wiped out! The view ain’t too bad though!

One way…

…..and the other!

Last night’s billet was a Logis de France, which really reminded me of an old Chicago Speakeasy Roadhouse that my cousin once showed me around, expect the French version did not appear haunted and is without the tommy gun scars! Anyway it was very comfortable and breakfast was excellent. We had an early start and set off on the D994, before turning north onto D937 and crossing Col du Festre and Col de Rioupes. The biggest problem was that at every turn the views just kept getting better!

I know it’s only geography, but I love it!

It’s quite a long way down from Col de Rioupes to Corps, where we picked up the N85 Route Napoléon. During this decent I caught up a bunch of cyclists that were, to be fair, moving pretty quick at suicidal speeds on some of the bends. There was one chap who was wearing a replica “King of the Mountains” Tour Jersey, he was either very brave or a mainstream nut case as he overtook me at one point as I was doing 55mph! The Napoléon was miles better than last time I rode it, no motorhomes and no HGV’s…loads of German bikers though! We got to Bourg d’Oisans and with some excitement turned left onto the famous 21 hairpins of The D211 up to Alpe d’Huez! It was seriously busy, with both cyclists and motorbikes enjoying the challenge of this iconic bit of tarmac! A bunch of Brit bikers did nothing to endear themselves by barging through everyone without any respect for other road users or their safety. At the top I gave them the benefit of my view of their riding, even offering to show them the video that I had taken…and to be fair they did apologise.

When I finally tore myself away from the convivial atmosphere of breakfast I had slight pangs of guilt about not finding any sea salt yesterday! So Harley and I set off to find some, just to prove it does exist… so here you go! Piles of the stuff!

And a lagoon where the sea water is evaporated and the magic happens!

Then we set off to see the Mediteranean, because it was there!

Enough of all this I hear you say, what about Ventoux! We left the Med behind and had a pretty hard ride, mostly by Autoroute, to Avignon and Carpentras. Avignon was its usual overloaded with tourists crazy busy place, whilst Carpentras is best seen form the ring road! The countryside starts to get a bit more hilly as you approach Bedoin, then the real climbing begins!

Mont Ventoux stands at 1912metres above sea level. It’s largely a limestone mountain, which can clearly be seen on its bare summit slopes and this gives it the appearance, from a distance, of permanently having snow at the top. Although it stands alone, it is technically part of the Alps. It is frequently a Hors category climb in the Tour de France and I desperately wanted to ride it! I wasn’t disappointed, it was ten uphill miles of total enjoyment and if I ever get to figure out how to post videos I show you all just how good it is! Let me firstly pay tribute though to the thousands of cyclists that ascend The Beast every year. I really salute them, they must go through hell to do it and hate sods like me who cruise to the top powered by fossil fuel! The serious business starts at Le Chalet Reynard, sweeping bends wind through the woods, which slowly change from chestnut to pine as you climb. The road is quite wide, with a specially marked lane for cyclists, on the up side. Harley was in fine spirits growling up through the trees and running on 10% Ethanol fuel to boot! We burst out of the forest and onto the bare mountain, there were cyclists everywhere. Past the Tommy Simpson memorial and on to the summit, which was crowded with cyclists, most of whom appeared to be German! Well actually they were making so much noise it was bleedin’ obvious that they were Germans!  So, some photos…

Looking towards the top.

The view at the top, looking north.

The Tom Simpson memorial, we popped back down to pay our respects. He may, I n modern eyes be viewed as a cheat, but remember that everyone else was doing it as well. No excuse I know. He does deserve to be remembered as a great British sportsman. His last words as a lay dying on the mountain were “put me back on my bike!”

……and the finest looking lady on the mountain today, but hey I’m biased!

We had a flowing run down the north side to Malaucene, not much vehicle traffic, but still loads of cyclists. I followed one who was doing 50mph, madness! With the road being quite empty I took the opportunity to try different combinations of brake and gears on the hairpins, very useful stuff.

I’ll tell you about our run up to Gap in another post, I’m off to get some sleep! Catch you tomorrow.

“Living easy, living free, season ticket on a one way ride!”

Dookes

Well, it’s very necessary when arriving at a new hotel to fully check all the facilities, so I think I’ll start here.

Hmm, not bad, but like the Manager said the water was a bit cold at only 20 degrees Celsius, bearing in mind that the air temp had fallen to a mere 24!

I hope you understand how tough this touring is!

Dookes

It’s breakfast time and the clientage are a mixed bunch, drawn from different parts of Western Europe and North Africa.

A small huddle stand outside smoking, whilst inside the sunlight streams through dusty air bringing the summer into the room, the Mistral is still Le Petit and just a gentle breeze wafts in.

Pierre, who is washing dishes, is singing along to Scott Mackenzie on the radio. He tells me that he likes Harley Davidsons and one day will ride across America on one, straight to San Francisco like the song. We talk rugby and motor bikes, he supports Toulouse but isn’t offended when I tell him I like Clermont Auvergne.

A French couple wander in for “petit dej”, Pierre insults then loudly and raucous laughter ensues! A smiling lady appears and Giles the waiter/general help kisses her on both cheeks, then just for luck a big smacker right on the lips, more laughter! Work, yes, but hey you’ve got to enjoy it as well!

I order another coffee and Pierre moves towards it with a bottle of Marc. No thanks mon ami, far too early in the day for me and I’ve got a long ride ahead! Pierre shrugs, “pas de problème, d’accord.” “No worries, I understand.”

I’m finding it hard to drag myself away from this place, Le Café de Quatre Vents. It’s pretty timeless, so laid back and so welcoming. Got to move though, off to Mont Ventoux this morning, Pierre calls it “La Bête de Provence,” The Beast of Provence, it’s quite an icon in these parts.

Ventoux is also the mountain were Tommy Simpson died on Le Tour back in the 1960’s. He had handfuls of pills in his pockets and goodness knows how many inside him as well as brandy. Strangely he is still almost revered by the French and respected by road cyclists all over Europe, despite the circumstances of his death. Different times I guess.

Time to draw myself away, before I am lulled into lingering longer by the lilting French song on the radio.

Au revoir my new friends, a bientôt! Let’s go find the ghost of Tommy.

“Well it’s alright ridin’ around in the breeze, well it’s alright, if you live the life you please.”

Dookes

Sodium chloride, to give it the correct chemical name. Necessary stuff, we all need a little bit if it now and again. Nice on fish and chips too, but not to excess. I’ve come across it twice today.

The first time was as Harley and I climbed up towards the summit of the Envalira Pass out of Andorra. Here gritty rock salt was being thrown all over the road as sleet and rain fell at 0 degrees Celsius! Now, Ok, it was a fair idea to try to keep the road open, but did those guys figure out how long it takes to clean the stuff of a Harley? Road conditions were pretty grim, even the mad locals slowed down to a tip toe crawl! By the second pass, De La Casa, it was just raining and by the time we mounted Col de Puymorens 6km into France it was brightening up nicely.

Excellent and quite fast trip down the hill into Ax les Thermes, a super little town, famous for hot spas, skiing and being a regular stop on Le Tour de France. In Ax we picked up the D613 and promptly fell in love with another wonderful French mountain road. Well, not the first four miles which were liberally coated with liquid cow poo that had obviously been leaking out of a farm trailer. Worst of all was that on the hairpin bends the stuff was literally running downhill on the best racing line! Merde, as my French friends say! That aside, the road is lovely. Wonderful views, numerous Cols, lovely bends, great surface and sod all traffic! It’s still technically the Pyrenees and simply majestic!

After Quillan the D613 heads into Corbières. The rock changes to soft limestone, meaning that this is wine country, it’s also wonderfully easy on the eye and incredibly peaceful. Small Chateau can be found along the way, making for a slow ride as each vista needs to be taken in.

This is at Serres.

Argues is very famous and quite impressive!

The small towns are the kind of places where lunch starts about eleven and ends just before it’s time for dinner. Life is to be savoured and enjoyed not squandered by working too hard! I detoured onto the D23 and passed through Lagrasse, it was still lunchtime….

probably still is….

Very mellow in every sense, I love this country! After a coffee in Lezignan we went street fighting on the A9 Peage also known as “La Langudoccienne.” Nice touch that, it’s a main arterial route and it’s feminine! Gotta love the French language too! Boy, was that wake up time after the rural idyll that we had enjoyed for the last fifty miles! Not exactly dangerous, but definitely not a place for the faint hearted. I said it was going to be a quick dash and I sure wasn’t going to hang about, let’s just say we got to Montpellier in optimum time less an awful lot!

Harley and I then hung a right and headed to the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, three days ago we rolled off a ferry on the Atlantic Ocean, this is how geography works, good ain’t it?! So here we are in the small town of Aigues-Mortes on The Camargue. The town takes it’s name from the salt lagoons, it literally means “Dead Waters”, and has been a famous salt trading port since the times of the Crusades. Sea salt is still produced here and large piles of the stuff can often be seen waiting to be shipped out, but not today….could it all be on that bloody mountain road! No chance there, it’s far to valuable for that, but next time you reach for the salt pot just think for a minute that some of it could be from here!

Without a pile of salt to show you, how about a shot of Harley outside the city walls? This place is also one of the best preserved medieval walled cities in Europe, looks even better with a travel-stained Harley alongside!

Fancy another ride tomorrow? We could go somewhere interesting and new? OK, you twisted my arm!

“Saddle up baby, ride on next to me, last of a dyin’ breed!”

Dookes

Good afternoon from Corbières in South West France! Herewith a quick update, full report, with pics later.

Harley and I are currently enjoying a few minutes rest after quite an exciting day so far. Temperatures back in the high twenties, which is nice, but tends to make for a smelly biker! Interesting conditions climbing the pass out of Andorra, first rain, next rain and mist, finally rain sleet and mist! Oh yes temperatures down to zero and just to add to the fun diesel oil all over the hairpins…..good fun indeed!

Thanks for the messages, catch you all later!

Looking South and East, where we are heading the sky looks very dark storms forecast as well! Here goes then!

“Give me a wheel of oaken wood, a rein of polished leather, a heavy horse and a tumbling sky, brewing heavy weather…..”

Dookes

Tomorrow we head into La Belle France and I can hardly wait!

The weather looks a bit mixed, which is a shame, but hey it’s been pretty ok up until now, so no complaints.

Target for tomorrow is the Camargue, at the mouth of the Rhône. A few mountain passes to start, then loop down to the Mediterranean and a fast (ish) sprint along to Montpellier.

Should be cool, you up for it?

Good, let’s ride!

“They wanted me to be respected as a doctor or a lawyer man…. but I had other plans!”

Dookes

To keep my Triumph Tiger riding mate happy, here is tonight’s food report!

Entrée; Salade avec rognons gibiers. Game kidney salad.

Le plat; Cabillaud filet Catalan, avec pommes rôti et brocoli. Cod with Catalan sauce.

It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll!

Dookes

There I was this morning in the hotel car park getting Harley ready for the road. When a geezer, looking like the Spanish version of the English comedian Bill Bailey appeared.

This is Bill.

“Hola!” He says, followed by “Hello, I speak some English!”
“Hola,” I reply.
“Your bike,” he continues, “is ‘ow you say, Cool as f**k!”
“Thank you!” I respond.

Obviously a man of taste!

I think so too my friend, I think so too!

“Wheels, spinin’ round my brain, driving you insane,
Wheels, flyin’ down the road, ready to explode.”

Dookes