France – Page 4 – Less Car, More Life

Linking up sections of La Loire á Vélo.

Picnic spots of the world. Relaxing along the Loire River.

We got a bit spoiled with the bike infrastructure riding out of La Boule – Escoublac, Brittany. As we continue to happily notice, France is really stepping up their bicycle and pedestrian game. It’s so nice to feel welcomed and cared for while bike touring. And it sure looks as if it’s having an impact on local trips made by bicycle in towns we went through.

The newly redone section of La Boule – Escoublac promenade. Even more bike and ped space.

A new section of off street cycle path in Pornichet.

Saint-Nazaire continues the bicycle love. The port in the distance.

We were headed to Saint-Nazaire to cross the bridge over the mouth of the Loire River and hang a left up the river path. We’ve ridden other sections of the Loire in years past, and had been impressed with how wild and wide sections of the river are. Our last ride on the Loire was downriver towards the Bay of Biscay and the North Atlantic Sea, but we ran out of time before we could reach the end. This time we would start at the mouth, or delta, and head up river. But first, we had to get to and cross the Pont de Saint-Nazaire. A big bridge accessible through the working port.

Into the port area, bike lanes still apparent.

Oh. New signage. Watch out for workers walking.

Let’s talk about how difficult it can be to get info on cycling conditions. We’ve faced challenging bridges before, and even been shuttled over bridges. We knew this one would be tough, but Rich couldn’t find many photos or info online about the actual lanes or shoulders, other than to see it was not great, and we hadn’t seen any other bike tourists for a while so no asking for first hand experiences. As we got to the approach of the bridge there was a bus stop with information on the shuttle bus with bike trailer that ran from May through September 24, all week, and then on weekends only. It was Friday, September 29. Yup. We’d have to ride. I have no photos of our ride across the bridge. As I was concentrating on staying as far right in the 2 foot shoulder as I could, without bashing my panniers into the guardrail, I briefly considered snapping a photo but decided I would rather live. It was pretty nasty. French drivers are good, but the lane configuration was one lane in our direction, two lanes in the other, and a closed lane on the far side.

If we had been riding the other direction we would have had an empty lane next to us, but in our direction we were next to a lane of car and truck traffic. I could see that the drivers were passing Rich as carefully as they could, and pulling into the oncoming lane when they could, but Rich, ahead of me, couldn’t see how I was getting along.

Once we got across and looked back I had two thoughts: damn, that sucked, and oh, that’s why the red stripes on the cute worker emblems on the path. It’s the paint job of the bridge.

We met two French cycle tourists heading towards the bridge later that day who said they had booked a shuttle, with a taxi company, we finally figured out. So that would be my recommendation to anyone interested in crossing the Saint-Nazaire Bridge by bike when the shuttle bus is off season, especially if is windy (which thankfully it was not on our crossing).

That bridge is on our list: Do not ride.

Recovering with a pastry and juice break.

Historic and still active fishing shacks, with crane nets, in the delta of the river.

Modern port activities across the river, historic shacks on our side.

With the bridge behind us we headed up the Loire, enjoying the wide open grassy marshlands and plenty of bird life. Our destination for that night was Nantes.

Hunting season starts in France in September, which is when we are usually bike touring. We had seen boar hunts in the past and got out of the area as quickly as we could. This trip we saw even more hunting going on since we were right at the beginning of the season opening.

Look out for cyclists, tractors, and hunters.

It was a bit nerve wracking to ride a stretch between Mt. St. Michel and St. Malo and have hunters shooting in the fields on either side of us. That’s when we got out our fluorescent accessories, which are always a good thing to have with you when cycling.

Along the Loire it was boar hunting. Complete with baying hound dogs and signs along the road.

Some recent hunting tragedies mean the rules have tightened up a bit, this boar hunt looked to be very organized.

Free ferry across the river at Le Pellerin to get to Nantes.

Drat. Too short a ferry ride to even get my book out.

Not every stretch of road is picturesque. Coming in to Nantes along the train tracks, still a nice bike lane though.

If you are ever looking for a lovely city in France that is less crowded, and a bit more off the tourist radar, we highly recommend Nantes. We spent two nights there and were very impressed with work that’s been done in the past few decades to make the city greener and give it a really pleasant ambiance. I think it’s another of those places to visit that the French are well aware of but maybe no one tells the tourists? Well, we’re telling you – it’s lovely. So many beautiful streets in the old town and lovely plazas where people gather, bike lanes, trams, and even with a World Cup Rugby match on it was super enjoyable.

One of the streets of Feydeau, previously an island in the river until the arms of the river around it were filled in between 1926 and 1946.

Another street in Feydeau, looking north towards Centre-Ville.

A rest day means we get to visit sights, like Les Machines de l’Île , on an actual river in the Loire. A steampunks dream. Here, a spider to give you nightmares.

An old industrial site houses loads of mechanized wood and metal animals, which the workers load up with visitors and operate. Ever wanted to ride a giant ant?

This heron raised up on a gantry crane and “flew” with passengers on the back and in the two baskets.

Château des ducs de Bretagne. I do love a moat.

Off to the train station. We need a boost to get us back to our home base near Geneva. Enough lallygagging.

Bikes loaded on the hooks (our least favorite train set up – notice how far Rich’s handlebars stick out into the aisle.).

90 kms later and off at Angers. Three cheers for a ramp off the platform. So much easier then elevators.

The high water mark from an 1856 flood. We stopped for the water tap but I appreciate a good flood information board.

“It was after the big flood of the Loire in 1150 that Henri II Plantagenêt, Count of Anjou and King of England, ordered the construction of a dyke all along the Northern part of the riverside.” Riding on the levee was fascinating.

Once a delicate San Franciscan always a delicate San Franciscan. The weather was lovely, if a bit warm for us. 82f/26c as we rode along, and a bit hotter in the afternoon. Thankfully as we rode up river we entered the Tuffeau stone region: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuffeau_stone Where there is tuffeau there are caves created by the mining of tuffeau stones. Where there are caves there are streams of cold air coming out of the caves to cool hot cyclists.

People have been living in the caves since quarrying or mining of the stone began in the 11th century.

Riding along and getting a blast of cold air, sometimes from a cave you couldn’t even see through the undergrowth, or from one set up as storage for nearby cave house dwellers, called les troglodytes, was very refreshing. We didn’t swim in the Loire, but we did stop and wade into the refreshing water and tried to convince the small fish to nibble our toes – no luck.

The school of fish were curious but cautious.

It’s nice to arrive at your hotel in time to shower and relax. Rich is in the swimming pool. Château De Saumur in the background.

The lovely light color of the tuffeau stone is luminous in the evening light. After a nice galette dinner we walked up to the Château to admire the view and watch bats swirl around the walls.

Another advantage of a post dinner visit is having the Château to ourselves.

You’d think we’d be tired, but no, plenty of energy to take flattering evening light photos.

We were starting our last full day of cycle touring, from Saumur to Villandry, about 55 kms. It was going to be another pretty hot day so we wanted to get going and try to beat the afternoon heat. From Villandry it would be a short ride to Tours to catch a train to Lyon, one night in Lyon, and catch a train to Geneva.

Making some good time through the shady trees.

No way! The bike route goes into the cave.

It was an old road for commerce winding into the mountain. Where rock had been mined people set up houses and food storage.

Rich ducking under an impressive fig tree. Notice the door and house number to the right.

The little driveways leading to cave houses are so intriguing.

The cave houses stay the same temperature year round. Nice on a hot day like this one.

The former quarries or mines have been turned into houses, restaurants, wine cellars, and mushroom growing caves.

Really good info plaques. Of course I don’t speak French so I have to stop and Google translate each one.

A good pictorial of the history of the caves. Of course I still had to translate it. Not getting far this morning.

They had little stone buildings in the vineyards connected to a shaft down which they tossed the grapes to the press.

We emerged from the cave streets of Souzay and were in the vineyards. It was harvest and crush season and trucks were trundling to and fro.

We both noticed that our tires were making funny noises and both thought we’d gotten flats. That slightly velcro noise a bike tire makes as it’s losing air. Worrying. But we realized that the trucks carrying grapes, and carrying stems post crush, had left a sticky residue on the streets which was now stuck to our tires making them sticky. We’ll take sticky grape juice over a flat tire any day.

Stems dumped on the edge of a field. You could smell the crush everywhere. That wonderful ‘making wine’ smell.

Art galleries and restaurants. All in caves. We will definitely come back to this area again.

Back to the river. A shady bench to take a break.

A well timed picnic table for our lunch stop. We are now riding along the sunny levee road and the temperature is climbing.

The river to the left, I’m on the levee road, and the houses to the right of the levee. You ride along at the level of their upper floor windows. And sunny.

Rich avoiding the pavé by riding in the narrow dirt shoulder. We know this trick from many years of watching Paris-Roubaix.

Ah, a tree shaded lane to Villandry, where our hotel is …at the top of the hill!

The only upside to a hotel at the top of the hill is the ride back down in the morning. And the view. We headed out to catch a long local train to Lyon. Most train routing would involve a trip up to Paris and back down to Lyon by TGV, but the slower local train is worth the extra time since we wouldn’t have to change trains with our bikes. I appreciate the opportunity to read on a nice long train ride.

Now we’re on the Cher River, and it’s cooler.

“Built on the river Cher by Jacques de Beaune, François I’s Superintendent of Finances in the first quarter of the 16th century, The Great Mill is noteworthy for its sliding mechanism suspended above the water. This ingenious mechanism, which is usually used between the arches of bridges, enabled the mill to work all year round, regardless of the water level.” This mill remained active until 1973, when a new mill was built just inland.

Fields of brown sunflowers say it’s time to head in for the season. And we’re almost out of Schengen days.

Tours train station. That’s our train arriving behind Rich, one platform away.

Bikes secured. Ready for the six hour trip to Lyon.

We had a nice night in Lyon, another very bike friendly city. After a little discussion with the bike friendly hotel which initially wanted to charge us to park the bikes in their garage, the manager saw our point about being bike friendly and relented. We had a nice Thai meal, went to a craft beer bar, and to bed. Big city advantages.

Enjoying the river path in the morning before we ride to the train station.

A direct ride to the train station on a protected path.

The train from Lyon to Geneva is about 2 hours, then we were going to ride all the way to our home away from home, our good friends’ house in the Vallée Verte. It was our first time riding all the way up the valley, a very scenic 33kms/22 miles, but with almost 914m/ 3,000 feet of climbing. But scenic! Well stocked with snacks and having eaten lunch we headed off. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. I had visions of sending Rich ahead to get a car to rescue me, or flagging down a passerby to take my bags and lighten the load – as if my French were up to the challenge! – but I made it.

Still going up. There was some significant downhill since we choose a quiet route that went over a higher pass instead of direct.

Made it! A nice sense of accomplishment to have arrived under our own power.

Even though we both had tired legs the next day it was wonderful to ride all the way up to our familiar and much loved French home. Four+ months of bike touring was a new record for us. The new bikes really made it fantastic. If you’ve backpacked it’s the same feeling of self sufficiency and being ready to go anywhere. Now, we are in Albania. We took our first flight in almost five months from Geneva to Tirana, Albania. More from Albania soon.

The Happy Travelers with our new haircuts in Triana, Albania.

Winging it through Brittany (and Normandy) by bicycle.

The fearless leader of our tour of Brittany. In Normandy.

Rich and I joke that he is a tour leader with one client: me. He plans routes and navigates, books hotels, fixes mechanical issues on the bikes, and here in France, is also our translator. I provide restaurant and museum research, maintain a positive attitude in the group, and look for cats.

Off the ferry and on the bikes. Parc du Château des Ravalet. Hello France.

The long stone farm buildings are so captivating.

Our tour started later than we normally get riding, the ferry docked at 2pm at Cherbourg, Normandy, and we had a hotel reservation in Port-Bail-sur-Mer, about 42km/26m south. That was our only reservation and destination. The first day riding in a new area means getting used to the traffic and temperament of the drivers, shifting to riding on the right hand side of the road, being charmed by the buildings and gardens, and bonjour-ing everyone I see.

The restaurant across the street from our hotel.

Our first look at the tidal flats of Normandy.

Sunset casts a golden light on the Church of Our Lady.

I get a bit stressed by eating out in France at first. My French is minimal at best, and I can find the handwritten chalk board menus difficult to read.

Oh yes, I’m reminded that I have entered the land of chalk board menus and delicious food.

Moules marinières with frites. An easy choice in the land of seafood.

The tide rushes in so quickly, and the water is so clear.

Switching to bike touring mode again after a lovely summer of long stays at house sits and with friends is a little tough. We tend to stay only one night in places until we need a rest day, but after a long day riding, the checking in, lugging bags, unpacking, doing shower or sink laundry, have dinner, sleep, breakfast and repeat, seems overwhelming the first few days. “Did we get bad at this?” I asked Rich. He was wondering the same thing, but, it only took a few days for what felt like too much, to become normal again.

Ready to roll from Port-Bail-sur-Mer. Panniers are perfect on the bike, but awkward off the bike.

On to a multi use trail. Very relaxing riding.

…you have baked goods strapped to your rack.

The almost daily bakery stop, today in Lessay.

Which is followed by the daily search for a bench in the shade upon which to enjoy the pastries at about the 20k mark. This one was in a cemetery.

And an hour or two later, the search for a lunch spot. A picnic table is a welcome sight.

It’s not all about food, although food is important and delicious here, we also have a lot of stops to read history markers. Our first few days followed the path of General Patton’s Third Army as they broke through Normandy. We had a lot of history to ride though. Towns have streets named 28 of July, and further on 29 of July, to mark the day General Patton and the troops marched through, and bridges have plaques commemorating the march. It’s always spine tingling to read of what the French went through, and how much destruction was caused.

Pont de la Roque, bombed by the Allies to try to prevent the German troops from escaping.

Welcome bike and pedestrian improvements in towns and villages. This road into Granville looked very new.

Over the last few years we’ve noticed France becoming more and more bicycle friendly. Towns have more car free space, speed limits have been lowered nationwide in town limits and signs put up showing that people on foot and bike have priority. Wider sidewalks with bollards, separated bike lanes, and rules for car drivers to give 1.5 meter passing space to bicyclists (1 m in town) have all made quite a difference. We love pedaling into a town and seeing the completed work, or the work underway, as France has pledged a billion euro more to make streets safer for bikes and pedestrians.

We had previously only seen this street treatment in Denmark. Bike lanes and a car lane shared by both directions of car traffic.

In Denmark the bike lanes are red, here in France just marked by a dashed white line.

Outdoor dining in Granville. That’s a bottle of cider.

An extension of summer. Outdoor space still up and running.

Sunrise, Port de Hérel. The view is from our room at the Ibis hotel.

Heading out of Granville, another nice wide bike lane.

How many times will I call a town charming? Bacilly was charming.

Our third night would be spent near Mont Saint-Michel, and it would be our final night in Normandy. We would cross into Brittany just west of Mont Saint-Michel.

Riding the coast of Normandy means skirting a lot of river estuaries, at Le Val-Saint-Père.

Do not let your dog chase the Agneau de pré-salé (salt marsh lamb). A specialty of the area.

Now this way. The coast route is squiggly.

There it is. We’d been catching glimpses of it all day as we rode, but this view – it’s otherworldly.

Rich booked the hotel near Le Mont just the day before. Off season means much more availability, even on a Saturday night. We debated riding right out to Le Mont before checking in at our hotel but we decided to check in, shower, leave the bags and ride back out the 5 kilometers so we could lock our bikes and walk around. The causeway leading out to Le Mont is only open to shuttle buses, bikes, and pedestrians.

But even better, we had a cabin with resident friendly cat whom we promptly named Deuce, for our cabin, number 12.

Denied! The causeway was closed to bikes for a light show extravaganza that evening.

We retreated to the dam which was built to settle the sand from the incoming tide and avoid the river silting up.

Watched some adorable tourists all get their Instagram shots.

And back to our hotel for a bottle of wine and an Afgani dinner from the food truck run by the hotel owner’s sister and her husband.

Do not think we gave up. Even though the mosquitoes were feasting on us as we watched the wave from the incoming tide travel up the river to the dam, no staying for the extravaganza for us, we decided to get up with the sunrise and ride back out to Le Mont.

The next morning, rain was headed our way but we were not deterred. This is pre caffeine.

Success. At the island with a dramatic sky.

Yikes! Let’s get this island viewing under way!

Early Sunday morning and rain rolling in means very few other tourists.

One other small group was walking around when we first arrived but we only saw them once.

Although the shops cater to the tourists, the bones of the town remain visible.

It was well worth getting up early and braving the threat of rain to see the Mont with so few other tourists.

And back to our hotel for breakfast and much needed coffee and tea.

With the history of WW2 still so close, and much documented by historical markers and plaques, I had to look up what happened to Le Mont during that time. As you can guess it was held and occupied for four years and two months and – to our delight – we read it was liberated by one American, Private Freeman Brougher. You read that correctly, one Private in a jeep with two British reporters. Read the entire story here for a jolt of emotion and a few fantastic photos: https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/article/freeing-mont-saint-michel/

Photo from the article. More photos in the link to the website.

Although the rain held off for our visit to the island we were eventually caught after checking out of the hotel and heading out. We had to shelter to let the hardest rain pass by.

Barely on the road and already stopping to put our rain gear.

The weather cleared as we continued along the coast, past windmills.

They are used to harvest mussels. They can drive along the road, across the beach, and into the sea where the mussels are growing on pilings.

Picnic spots of the world. We had managed to get to a small shop just before it closed for Sunday afternoon

There is a lovely feeling of familiarity, going from Wales to Brittany. Both are Celtic lands and we find similarities that catch us by surprise. The style of the old buildings, the way the doors and windows are framed by brick, certain words, and, arriving in Saint Malo, reading that Saint Malo arrived in Brittany from Wales. He was one of the seven founding saints of Brittany.

We had to look up this city emblem, it’s a dog.

Saint Malo is the setting for the book All the Light We Cannot See, which we both read, and we were reminded of that fact by our friend Bob (Hi Bob! Thanks!).

Another super bike friendly French city.

Walking along the old ramparts. The city has a history of pirates!

We stayed out in a neighborhood called Saint-Servan-sur-Mer.

We rode our bikes down to a lovely harbor for high tide swims both mornings.

You can see how the tide and ramp makes for a great swimming spot.

The happy travelers, just before a swim.

So far, some pretty fierce headwinds aside, we’re really enjoying Britanny. The history, the food (the butter and the salted caramel made from the butter!), and friendly people. Especially once we’ve pedaled away from the tourist areas – then we really enjoy the opportunities to chat with locals who don’t often get Americans pedaling through town. On we go!

The star is where we landed, the hearts are where we slept. The blue dot was me when I snapped this pic from google maps. (For you Ruth!)

Wales to Brittany by bike. With a Stena Lines ferry boost.

The approach to the Fishguard Ferry terminal.

One of the only riddles I can always remember is “How do you get two whales in a Mini?” Answer: Over the Severn Bridge. Doesn’t work written down (to Wales in a Mini), and rarely works for an American audience- the Severn Bridge? Wales? What?

Our riddle was how to get us and two bikes quickly and efficiently from Wales to France. Big touring bikes that do not fit easily in the bike closets provided on many UK trains. We could have ridden all the way to Portsmouth or another southern England port, but to be honest bike touring in a lot of the UK is not fantastic. And we wanted to get back to France to tour while the weather was still good, not spend more time crossing Britain. The answer to our riddle? Stena Lines Ferry.

For the first leg of our trip our friends in Tenby generously drove us and our bikes to Fishguard, Wales, for our 24 hour fun journey to France.

Rich waiting with our ferry behind him. This ferry will take us to Ireland.

Let’s get this show on the road! Lunch and snacks in the bag.

I love traveling by ferry. It’s a fantastic way to get between the continent and the UK or Ireland without flying. Flying not only has a bigger carbon footprint than the ferry, but it’s also a pain with bicycles. Ferries and bikes are quite easy. At Fishguard the bikes wait with foot passengers, who are driven onto the ferry by a bus, but we bikes get to wheel on with our own escort.

Rich in the bike nook, cars loading on behind him.

The bikes are secured with a rope, provided by the helpful staff person you see securing a motorcycle behind Rich. The motos are strapped down to recessed hooks in the floor.

Secure and ready to go. For this 3 hour journey we leave the bags on the bikes.

I always snap a photo of our deck number and stairwell color. Just in case we both forget.

Then it’s a cup of tea, a coconut macaroon from Loafly Bakery in Tenby, and a sheltered spot on the sun deck.

We were the only two people with bikes on this ferry trip, but there were quite a few motorcycles. We all wait to unload together.

I’m still fascinated by the huge car and truck decks on these ferries. It’s a bit intimidating to be a little cyclist surrounded by trucks and cars as you exit.

I don’t take pictures while disembarking, I’m too busy trying to keep up with the flow and not skid on the steel plates of the ramp. It looks more dodgy than it is, but I prefer both hands on my handlebars for this part of the trip.

Our next ferry, from Rosslare Harbour, County Wexford, would take us to Cherbourg, France. This was a long ferry ride, 16 hours. You have to purchase a cabin, no sleeping in the chairs. While in line for this ferry we chatted with a nice Irish cyclist named David, headed to France for a Rugby World Cup game and to meet up with his brother. Also traveling by bike.

Motorcycles and bikes loading from lane 12.

The bikes on this ferry were stashed next to a conveyor belt, and lashed to it by a staff person.

We were a bit mystified and annoyed by the fact that this ferry seemed to allow only four bikes on. When Rich was making reservations the website told him at first that there was only 1 bike space left. He was able to get both bikes on the next day, it seems that when his initial attempt to reserve and pay hung up in the payment phase, it locked down the 2 bike spots and they needed some time to reset and release. David agreed with us that it was ridiculous to allow only four bikes on a massive ferry loaded with cars and trucks, he said he would probably just show up and talk his way on, if he had been denied a bike reservation. We’re not that confident in our gift of gab, not being Irish, but we all agreed to send sternly worded emails to the Stena Line Ferry company. (We otherwise really like this ferry company.)

Behind this door, Premium Class Cabins. That was us! We went Premium Class.

A very comfortable cabin. You can see one of the upper bunks above Rich, this cabin could sleep four.

The cabin had a kettle, tea and coffee, some snacks, outlets with continental plugs – two pin – and a very decent sized bathroom. More later on morning amenities. First, off to the bar!

White wine and Guinness. Rich couldn’t be in Ireland, however briefly, without having a Guinness. Dance floor available, pop music blaring from the sound system.

The view from the Metropolitan Bar. We imagine that during busy summer holidays the dance floor gets some use.

We decided on this trip to just eat from the restaurant instead of bringing on our own dinner or breakfast. You could certainly save money by taking on your own picnic meals, but the food got pretty good reviews so we made our lives easier and went to the buffet restaurant for dinner and breakfast.

The buffet and a guy who gets his money’s worth from a buffet.

My first plate, noodle salad, Greek salad, and veggies. All quite good.

Dinner at the buffet was a success. There was a bar in the restaurant, drinks not included except water and tea/coffee, we opted for water.

We went for an after dinner walk on deck and then it was off to bed in our comfortable cabin.

Another benefit of Premium Class was the morning coffee and milk from the coffee machine in the hallway, and croissants and raisin rolls, and oddly, magazines. Good Housekeeping and Men’s Health, and the duty free magazine.

Coffee, pastries, and water in the fridge.

Yes, I was out in the hallway in my jammies, this was just outside our door.

And then I was tucked up back in bed with tea made with the room kettle, with fresh
milk from the machine, a croissant, and a magazine.

Since we had a ride planned from when the ferry docked at 2pm to our first night in Normandy at Port-Bail-sur-Mer, we went and enjoyed the breakfast buffet to make sure we were fueled for our 46 km hilly ride.

Breakfast buffet was served from 8 to 10 am.

Another walk on the deck, watching for land.

The flag has the silhouette of Cyprus, where this boat is registered.

Lifeboats. Which you hope no one ever has to use. They hold 114 people each.

Finally allowed back to our bikes, we found the trucks were parked right next to our bikes and the floor had puddles of sea water. David, Rich, and a nice nomadic French cyclist whose name I didn’t get. Chatting with other cyclists is a fun bonus of ferry travel.

Ten years nomadic cycling. He said he’s off to the US next. Nice guy.

Traveling with bikes on the Stena Line or Brittany Ferries is becoming our regular way of getting to and from the UK from the continent or Ireland. This was our 12th ferry trip, seventh with bikes, since going nomadic just over two years ago. Eight have been long crossings, and four were shorter hops, Germany to Sweden, Denmark, etc. On this trip our Stena lines reward number got a work out as we bought so many meals – not inexpensive – but now we have points for future discounts. As I mentioned above, you could certainly make this journey less expensive by getting a standard cabin, and either bringing your own picnic meals or opting for a non buffet dinner and breakfast. The premium cabins vary ship to ship, on one from Hook of Holland to Harwich we had a full sized bed in the cabin and no upper bunks. Both were very comfortable and we slept well.

The happy travelers headed from Wales to Ireland.

We’re now in France, cycle touring in Normandy and Brittany. And guess what? That heat wave in Wales may have been our last summer heat, the weather has taken a decidedly autumnal turn.

New Wheels in Old Europe

We’re back. Back in Europe, back in France and Germany, and back on our bikes!

New blue and green camouflage on the Danube.

We spent two weeks after our return from Korea catching up with friends and family in Colorado, California, and then another week to relax and prep for cycle touring in lovely France. But flying through 17 time zones in 2 weeks was not easy. Our 12 hour flight in a packed cabin from Seoul to Dallas was a particular low point, and our circadian rhythms really took a hit. I’ve vowed from now on we’ll only fly West around the globe as it always seems easier that direction -;)

Rolling out of Ulm, Germany on Day 5. New bikes complete with matching panniers, a first for us in 20 years of cycle touring!

A spring boules game with our endlessly kind hosts in the Vallèe Verte

Luckily we had some relaxed days to get over our jet lag visiting family in Grand Junction, CO. It really is easier to return when not heading into the office the next day! We were also lucky to score two saver business class seats with miles on Swiss Air (booked months ago) for our trip back to Europe.

Our typical 20 minute walk to get bread in the Vallée Verte, France. Still a bit dazed from the jet lag.

Wisteria in full spring bloom in the lower alps.

A cow posing in the Haute Savoie with Mount Blanc in the distance.

We also recharged our social souls catching up with as many friends as possible in the Bay Area. And as always, many thanks to all our families and dear friends who hosted us during our stay, including so many delicious meals. We also managed to keep a constant supply of burritos in our blood stream, hopefully holding us for months overseas.

Waiting for our train at Genève Coravin Station with our very awkward bike luggage.

It took three trains to get to Freiburg from Geneva, but was seamless on Swiss and German Rail (and BTW, cheaper to book on DB than SBB App).

First test ride on our new Koga World Traveller-S Bikes at the friendly and efficient Zweirad Hanser in central Freiburg.

We set off in this leg of our nomadic wanderings with a very specific goal; picking up two new touring bikes that we decided to give each other for our 25th wedding anniversary last year. We picked Koga World Traveller-S bikes, since we tried them in a shop in Groningen last year. Luckily; we found a nice shop and Koga dealer in Freiburg, Germany who were willing to take our orders over 3 months ago from Sri Lanka.

Complementary estate wine bottled by our bike shop…one bottle for each new bike -:)

Freiburg is truly one of the greenest cities on earth, and our new apartment building had a massive bike garage and green roof, complete with bee hives.

First of two days at a bigger bike shop in Freiburg accessory shopping, eventually getting a new seat, front and tail packs, four panniers, phone holder, and cyclocomputer.

We spent 3 days in Freiburg getting the bikes configured and tweaked to our liking and then headed out to start another planned 4+ months with our bikes. We were both a bit nervous starting out on our new set ups and were relieved to finally get pedaling again.

Hanging out at Caffé Bicicletta in sunny Freiburg, but excited to get touring!

On the S-Bahn to Hinterzarten up in the Black Forest; are we touring yet??!!

The Koga signature bikes are nicely configured and allowed us a good amount of customization via their website. After some nervous days in France wondering if they’d be ready on time, we heard that they would likely be delivered to the shop in Freiburg on the day we planned to arrive! Perfect timing from the cycling gods (and Dutch Koga craftspeople). Koga strives to deliver in 12 weeks and they were pretty close as we had ordered about 13 1/2 weeks prior in Sri Lanka.

Off the train and ready to ride, but wait, first some critical provisions!

Taking a break on a long first day climb, again, why didn’t we get E-bikes?!

Some rough patches over the Schwarzwald on Day 1. We gave the bikes a full workout.

A break in the Black Forest at one of the ubiquitous small shrines (or as Cheryl likes to say, “Cheeses with Jesus” -:).

Our first day included a short link by train to bridge a busy main road (or super steep mountain option) up to the higher parts of Black Forest. This allowed us to ride nicer roads and trails onwards to Donaueschingen. It was still a hilly and varied 52k first day with 2,500 feet of climbing and lots of dirt sections.

At the source of the Danube in Donaueschingen. The Donauquelle is a bubbling clear spring, but fed by the upstream Breg and Furtwangen rivers.

EuroVelo 6 and the Danube cycle routes are a mix of buttery pavement, dirt, and gravel, but all in pretty good condition.

We have been greeted by unusually warm spring weather, so always happy to find some shade.

First gear quirk to resolve as my panniers both popped off the bike. Luckily, this kitty was ready to help.

Off the bikes enjoying early evening light near Beuron.

But it was beautiful and the new bikes are a joy. We love our old steel bikes, but these bikes are built to be loaded, handle wonderfully, and have geometries that make long days on dirt and old town cobbles so much nicer. We opted for a classic 3×10 Deore XT drivetrain, including fantastic hydraulic disc brakes. Koga includes nice built in racks, strong kickstand, fenders, and dynamo hub lights.

Smiles on Day 2…our seat bones still didn’t hurt too much…yet.

We exchanged many “Bonjours” with this nice French couple as our paces were nearly matched for a few days.

There are many covered bridges on the upper Danube since it’s still small enough to span with wood.

We brought our ultralight camp chair on this tour, which means any pleasant patch of shade is a potential break spot.

Wishing this tunnel was open to bikes as our cycle trail went up and down and all around the first few days.

An emergency Chair Zero break at the side of trail. Sometime brush and the ubiquitous stinging nettles can make finding a break spot tough in spring time.

I haven’t lost Cheryl yet in her bright colors.

More artistic German bridge engineering.

After 4 beautiful days cycling in the Black Forest and upper Danube, we took a rest day (Ruhetag!). Ulm is a nice small city on the Danube with a cathedral famous for having the highest spire in Europe, easy to spot cycling into town. Our rest day coincided with a local holiday in Baden-Württemberg and Bavaria, Corpus Christi.

Mandatory 11 O’Clock pastry break. This was a divinely dense cheesecake like cherry treat.

We then spent the next two days along the more agricultural parts of the Danube Valley and are now enjoying another day off the bikes in Ingolstadt. We’ve mixed our routes up a bit to try to stay in woodland as it’s been warm and sunny, but primarily have followed Eurovelo 6, “Atlantic to the Black Sea”, which runs an incredible 4700km from eastern France via the Loire and Rhine, and then along the Danube to the Black Sea.

Always love the signage and choices cycling in Europe. It’s liberating on bicycles to know you can get anywhere relatively safely.

We head out tomorrow to do another 80km to Regensburg, but after that, the upcoming sections on the Danube, especially Donau to Vienna and Budapest are some of the most popular bike touring segments in the world. (And for good reason).

Paying homage to the Schwein farmers in the area, a German diet staple.

But thousands of bikes on each side of the river, with an awkward mix of the inexperienced and e-bikes thrown in, will make us a bit crazy and claustrophobic. So we plan to the explore that heart of the route more off-season, some early spring or late fall. We are always glad to trade some rain, cold weather and earlier darkness for a more peaceful experience.

A massive platter of tasty Greek food hit the spot in Riedlingen as our metabolisms started to fire up on Day 3.

But the upper segments of the Danube are much less toured, and have been generally blissful. As Cheryl knows, I’m a lot happier off the beaten track, at least a bit, and tend to break out in hives when in tourist clusters these days. Sometimes we lean in to being tourists, but other times it’s just life for us now, so we need to make our own adventure. After Regensburg, we may use our €49 monthly DeutschBahn tickets again to head east towards Czechia.

Cheryl loving her new bike in the limestone gorges of the Buchhalde-Oberes Donautal

But this is the magic of our third year of nomadic travels. We relish flexibility and the ability to change course on short notice. It’s also our third year in a row touring in Europe, and I definitely am seeing the landscape through slightly different eyes. We’ve seen hundreds of quaint squares, rivers, bridges, and old towns. Places are starting to look more normal, and a bit less exotic. But I also have a warm feeling of joy that we are able to control our destiny in life for now. Explore where we want, linger where we want. But we also have enough life experience and years of hard work to appreciate it all. And we know life can throw us all surprises at anytime, so for now, we roll on into the summer, thankful for everything.

Happy to be the two friendly American cycle tourists in a little German Town no one has heard of (Riedlingen)

Remember, the smaller places can be even more rewarding than fighting the crowds in the most popular cities. Happy summer travels all and hope to see a few of you along the way!

Last tourists out of Morocco, please report to the airport.

A very empty Marrakech airport. It is a beautiful airport.

How quiet was the Marrakech airport on December 12th, 2021? Birds. We could hear the chirping of little birds who had snuck into the terminal. We heard and saw them in the uncrowded check in hall, in the line-less security area, and out at the empty gates. They were flying around, perching on ductwork and light fixtures, and scouring the area for crumbs. With so few travelers they weren’t having much luck finding food. Flights had been curtailed for two weeks already, and the Kingdom had just announced an additional travel ban through the end of December.

Two days before, up in the Atlas Mountains. Still thinking our Dec. 14th flight would be flying.

A few days earlier we had rented a car in Marrakech after arriving via bus from Essaouira to spend two nights up in Inmil. We wanted to see the splendor of the Atlas Mountains. While out hiking on our first chilly morning in the mountains we got an e-mail from the US State Department telling Americans still in Morocco to leave or risk being stuck. Almost immediately on the heels of that email came one canceling our December 14th flight. Uh oh.

The travel planner springs into action. Out of the photo is the cell phone tower which made this quick action possible.

Rich got a flight booked after a tense bit of time with all operating airlines websites failing to work, and flights already booking up. Relieved, but not completely comfortable, we quickly hightailed it back to our Riad to pack and get back on the road. We needed to get a COVID test that day or early the next morning in order to be able to fly to Paris.

One last fun interaction with these young girls coming home from school who were thrilled to practice their French with us.

Our division of driving labor is Rich driving and me navigating. We made it down from the mountains and through Marrakech to the COVID test center with only one bobble. A slightly tricky trip down a crowded market street to get back on the main road on the correct side of the lab to park the car. That doesn’t sound as stressful as it was, with Rich having to thread the rental car between scooters, vendor carts, and pedestrians. We returned the rental car and Rich booked us in to the thankfully nearby Raddison Hotel. If ever there was a time to check into a comfort hotel this was it.

Waiting for our room while relaxing by the pool.

Oh yes, I failed to mention I was on the rocky road of food poisoning, with the worst yet to come. The distraction of scrambling to divert plans kept me propped up until the next day when I succumbed and took to bed.

Jardin Majorelle-Yves Saint Laurent Mansion. My only outing in Marrakech.

After this photo Rich put me in a taxi back to the hotel and headed out solo.

Jemaa el-Fnaa square. Normally packed with visitors, very quiet as viewed by Rich during his second breakfast.

Once again we could feel the sense of despair from all the hospitality workers, knowing that no more visitors were able to come to Morocco. The taxi driver to the airport failed to turn the meter on and we didn’t even bother to protest or haggle, just paid, tipped, and wished him well. We were likely his last tourists for some time.

A few days short of our planned four weeks, but thanks to Rich’s amazing planning skills we saw a lot of Morocco.

While waiting in line at the airport to check in and check bags we struck up a conversation with a lovely mother son traveling duo who had come to Marrakech to spend three months and were also heading out early due to the shut down. We had managed to complete almost our entire hoped for itinerary, so we left with no regrets – except my food poisoning. They were headed to Bangkok via Paris and Amsterdam and had a 14 day quarantine to look forward to in Bangkok.

On the way to security screening. No crowd. Me keeping it together for travel day. Just.

Marrakesh Menara Airport’s gorgeous ceiling. In 2019 it handled over 6.3 million visitors.

And here we are in Paris. Another one of those culture shock travel days completed. Doing COVID testing and entry paperwork for each leg of our trip back to the UK adds another level of frustration to travel in the age of COVID. Rich keeps track of the ever changing regulations and makes sure we have printed copies for airport days. I’m sure the challenge of the paperwork and the cost of the testing is putting a lot folks off travel. We took a deep breath in Paris and enjoyed the Christmas feel I was missing in Morocco, before we dove back into on-line forms and registration of tests to get to the UK. Next stop, London and then Edinburgh.

The happy travelers in Paris, on to the next chocolate shop!

Stay safe , and Happy Holidays all.

Reflections on the City of Light

We finally ditched our beloved bikes and rolled into Paris in style on the TGV from Annecy. Since we travelled on a weekend, my €49/year discount SNCF Carte Adulte offered first class for just a few Euro more than second, so first class it was with nice facing “Club Duo”. “Good train time per $!” as my friend Mike would say.

Upper deck of the TGV. Comfy (me) and stylish (the train)

Carrying our gear on our backs was quite a shock and we have both vowed again to rid our bags of even more things before we move onto to any travels further afield. Seriously!

We chose to stay in the 10th Arrondissement, and were pleased with the choice as it spans a clear transitional world between the more traditional Parisienne neighborhoods such as the Marais to the more working class and immigrant neighborhoods. It is a fascinating mix of cultures, but clearly dealing with strong gentrification pressure. There is a palpable delineation between the older neighborhood residents and the new boho hipsters. The similar global urban story of businesses transitioning to serve the new residents, and the older residents being priced out. And maybe we are adding to the problem, or are we just supporting a variety of small businesses?

The backstreets of the 10th on a Sunday afternoon

Rue de Belleville on a warm fall evening

The neighborhood is also blessed with the lovely Canal Saint Martin, which is even more pleasant now that ped/bike priority streets have been added on both sides, and reminded us of the Panhandle in San Francisco. (With water and locks of course.

We explored Paris every day to a blissful exhaustion, but found rush hour walking tough, both on the busy boulevards and back streets, as sidewalks are single-file only with the usual urban bobbing and weaving. We also took a few trips on Lime e-bikes, and some of the new bike facilities are fantastic! But wayfinding and the intersections tough for first time Paris cyclists. Cyclists are everywhere and go in every direction, but are mostly looking and have tamed cars with their unpredictability and sheer quantity. We like that.

By the way, as of November 2019, Velib does not accept US or Canadian credit cards, even with chips, chip and PIN, and card authorization through your cc company. Big bummer, as we tried numerous times ways and were thwarted. Apparently too much fraud?

We did hit a few of the major tourist spots, such as the Louvre and Sacre-Couer, but found exploring the edges of Montmartre more satisfying then the throngs by the famous stairs.

Tomb of Oscar Wilde, Père Lachaise Cemetery

I am still amazed how the A-list sites are absolutely inundated, yet one turn up a quiet side street can reveal hidden wonders and always find that in big cities, we prefer random neighborhood wandering, small museums and parks.

Our favorite bar in Montmartre which was delightfully out of central casting for 90s indie film!

France and the people we have met have been so kind to us, both on and off the bikes, and we are starting to feel a little more kinship and understanding with their perspective on living life, history, geography and the struggles to maintain liberté in the 2020s.

Au revoir et bon voyage!

Farewell chateaux.

Amboise in the setting sun. Golden light.

As we pedaled along a few days ago and did the math, we realized we’d been bike touring for 48 days. That’s our longest trip ever on bikes. As I write this, on a train from Tours to Dijon, it’s day 50. It’s certainly a lot of work, not the pedaling part although that can be tough at times, but the moving most nights. The unpacking (I call it the bag barf, where I simply turn my panniers upside down and let everything cascade to the floor.), the packing, and of course the travel planning done exclusively by Rich. Each day he checks terrain and weather and towns that look nice for a stay, one night or two, the feeding of two hungry cyclists – thank goodness for hotel breakfasts – whoops, watch out for Sunday, everything closes about noon, be ready for that!

Riding to the château of Chambord on a misty cool morning.

But everyday at one point or another, while looking at the river, or a chateau in the mist, or collapsed on a bench for a tea break, we look around and say to each other- wow, this is amazing and we are so lucky.

Chambord in moody black and white. Yes, scaffolding. Imagine how difficult is to keep up the maintenance on a heap like this!

The things that we notice while traveling the speed we can pedal are so detailed. Wild boar in the forests on the way to Chateau Chambord. Hunters in orange vests ranged out alongside a forested patch near the river, hunting boar we assume. We stopped to watch, heard the hunting dogs baying, and saw a deer come running out of the forest across a field, followed by a hare who ran so fast and so far – completely spooked and relived that the men in orange were not after him. Gunshots rang out, we checked our brightly colored rain jackets were on for increased visibility, and pedaled away. Just another day on the bike tour, but one I hope we’ll always remember.

At a Sunday stop at a bakery for sandwiches we chatted with a super nice British couple who’d been living in France for 30 years, he was a cyclist and wanted to chat about our American made bikes. As Rich described our route and we mentioned that we had taken some train hops he shook his head and his partner said, oh, he thinks trains are cheating when you’re bike touring. We don’t. We haven’t owned a car in 21 years, we’ve earned these train hops.

Waiting for the nice railroad worker to lead us across the tracks at Nevers, where there are no ramps and no elevators.

On our way to Dijon on a lovely new train.

From Dijon in an older train car. Down that corridor are actual separate compartments.

We’re headed back to our French “home base”, looking forward to some time not moving, cooking for ourselves and hiking in addition to biking. We’ll leave the bikes there, swap our our luggage and head by train to Paris, then to London, and then to Tenby, Wales.

Seeing the world one kilometer at a time, with plenty of breaks.

Loire Valley continues. Now with more head cold.

Bike touring with a cold reminds me of how professional riders will say “I just didn’t have the legs today.” to explain what happened on a disastrous stage of a tour. Well, that was me for a few days. I just didn’t have the legs.

Smiling bravely as we start off one morning.

Picnic at the Chateau. Note the little bottle of rosé.

Picnic assembled from the leftovers of our apartment cooked dinner the night before. And some grocery store additions.

The wild Loire River continues to delight us with its scenery, and we’re meeting more cycle tourists too, which is fun. While we were stopped at a picnic area a French guy pulled up, and excused himself from joining us at our table by explaining he wasn’t vaccinated, so we chatted from a distance. He was planning on going to the US ‘when this COVID stuff is over’ and ride from San Diego to Vancouver, Canada, and then across Canada to Montreal. When we said something about distance, that is a long ride, he responded with a most French shrug of his shoulders and a noise that sounded like ‘bwooeef’.

Chilly mornings and loads of stops to read about the wildlife.

Never say no to a bench. Who knows when you’ll find another one. Note the clumps of mistletoe in the tree behind Rich.

Another great cycle tourist, Daniel, who was waiting for his son whose Brompton folding bike had a tire problem.

The traditional fishing boats of the Loire are so beautiful.

More boats, we didn’t see any in use but quite a few anchored. Rich added for scale.

We spent two nights in Orleans to rest up. We both had head colds but I got hit harder then Rich. I spent most of our rest day in bed.

Never too tired or sick to resist posing as Jeanne d’Arc as we approach Orleans.

Evening light at the river in Orleans. The river is wide and chocolate brown, we could understand why New Orleans in the US reminded someone of Orleans.

Heading out, mostly recovered, to see more chateaus.

Across the river the happy cyclist goes on.

This area of the Loire is blessed with many chateaus. I promise pictures of some of them, but it’s not so easy to actually go inside and visit when bike touring. There is the problem of not only locking the bikes up, but securing the bags as well. So far we’ve been content with merely looking at and reading about the chateaus.

A slightly abandoned air about this one.

Happy pedaling!

Alsace wine trail during harvest.

This is the kind of riding Rich loves – rollers up and down, quiet roads with only occasional cars and busy but careful farm vehicles bringing the grapes in.

Through the vineyards on smooth pavement.

This is the kind of riding I love too, through wine county.

A lovely view and a bottle provided by the BnB. Heaven after a long ride up the hill to the BnB.

Harvesting here looks different from what we see in California. In Germany a machine rolls along actually shaking and pulling the bunches of grapes off the vines. Here, a machine rolls along cutting the lower leaves off and leaving the bunches of grapes hanging naked below the vines. Then, we saw teams of locals, mostly women, wearing aprons and wielding clippers, start into the vineyards.

Rich added for scale in front of the clipper machine.

The towns we rode through for the past two days were each more charming than the last, making for some slow riding as I stopped to take photos and read tourist info plaques. Blienschwiller, Itterschwiller, Mittelbergheim, Barr, Bernardswiller, and Molsheim where we had a wonderful long lunch and sheltered from the rain on day one.

A typical town with German and French influences.

This area was German and then French, making for some mixed up seeming names. One war memorial I stopped to read had Jean Michael Herzog among others, and of course the usual and heartbreaking lists of family names from both wars – a reminder of the sadness and horror that must have felt as if it were stalking families.

Rich waiting patiently as I gush over another charming town.

Marking the very first time we ever outlasted the locals at lunch. We quick Americans are usually fast lunchers, but it was raining and our check in time was 3:30.

Smiling in the rain, the amazing lunch and carafe of wine helped.

The historic Canal de la Bruche was our route out of Strasbourg and reminded us of the many UK narrow boat vlogs we watched during lockdown. Beautiful.

Someone had helpfully spray painted a 17% on the hill to let me know how steep it was. And yes, those are waterproof socks I’m wearing with my sandals. Chic, no?

Riding out the rain and a rainbow ends in the vineyards. Perfect.

The only downside to biking a fairly long day is my unwillingness to stop and taste. Vin Nouveau is a new fascination of ours.

A smaller town, only 7 wineries listed. Rich in the background enjoying our picnic lunch on day two.

Happy Alsace wine drinker. The long day of passing vineyard after vineyard and smelling the pressing going on in each town was finally rewarded at dinner in Colmar. The small green stemmed glasses are traditional.

We’re in Colmar now, here for two nights in this charming town, then on to more adventures. Our plans are changing as we ride and explore. Happy pedaling!

Down the Loire Valley by bike and train.

We left Colmar by train on a forecast rainy day and did a 3 train hop to Nevers during which it rained very satisfyingly hard. It made me very happy to hear that rain pelt the train windows while we were warm and dry inside.

Almost all of the French trains we’ve caught have been low floor boarding with good bike space.

Happy travel planner. One transfer was cross platform and the other had ramps to and from the platforms.

Train travel tip with bikes: always leave super early to ride to the train station, you never know what will suck up that extra time. So far we’ve had: crowded market day along the route, broken elevators requiring unloading and carrying bags and bikes up and down stairs, massive construction projects leading to circumnavigating the entire station, and uncooperative ticket machines (we usually book on line but the website was down.). So pad that trip with extra time. The worst that happens is that you’re early and get to hang out on the platform wondering which carriages will have the bike logo on the side – near where you’re standing or a trot down the platform?

We’ve found the local French trains, Ters or regional, reliably have a bike car at the front of the train, and usually at least one if not more further down. If you’re really not sure where the bike space will be, figure out which way the train is traveling and stand at the end of the platform where the train arrives. You’ll be able to see the marked bike cars and can always run down the platform if you need to.

Café Velo in Nevers, France. We stayed in one their lovely upstairs apartments.

Another good tip is to make sure you can take your panniers off quickly, not only to make the bike lighter to lift up stairs, but to be able to stack the bikes efficiently in the bike area. Also so that you can do a quick bag removal, toss the bags into the train and then lift your bike in all while panicking that the train will try to leave without you. The station at Nevers did not have ramps or elevators, us and three other cyclists did the unload bags, carry down carry up, wondering aloud what people with mobility issues would do. We found the answer to that question, which is hail a member of staff and they will help you cross the tracks at the end of the platform. Strictly prohibited for general use. Of course, we were also told that finding a member of staff can be difficult, but now we know.

The cathedral was bombed “accidentally” during WWII and rebuilt. The stained glass windows are from about 1948 and so modern.

The St. James scallop shell in the upper right corner caught my attention.

And then we ran into two pilgrims walking the Camino and took photos together. They had about 1,333 kms to go to Santiago Spain. They absolutely looked up to the challenge.

We rolled out of Nevers and started the Loire River Eurovelo Route 6, heading west.

Quite a bit of levee riding at times, but those smiles mean we had tailwinds.

Lunch in Pouilly Fumé, drinking… Pouilly Fumé.

This canal has the unromantic name of lateral canal to the Loire. We renamed it canal of green.

We hit rain and found shelter at a Loire nature center. We stayed for quite a while while the heavy rain passed through and ate everything in our food pannier. Made for a varied and interesting lunch.

Met a lovely young American cyclist also sheltering from the rain, Toby. It was his first bike tour and I’d say he’s hooked.

The Loire is a wild river. Loads of islands, sandbars, and very untamed banks. Amazing bird life.

My new favorite style of picnic table, built up against the parapet so you can take in the view.

One of the joys about not having to plan too far in advance, or being so busy sorting out places to stay, so that we don’t really know what’s coming up, is being surprised by something like the Pont Canal de Briare.