Total distance: 339.5 km

Nantes to Saint-Brevin-les-Pins 71.5km, Saint-Brevin-les-Pins to Les Sables-d’Olonne 155.5km, Les Sables-d’Olonne to La Rochelle 112.5 km

Phew! Just like that, the biking portion of our trip has come to a close. Well, the more serious biking at least, I’m sure there’s a few more inner city rentals in our near future. Coming in at a solid 1000km, we have arrived at my second cousin Eddy’s home, just outside Biarritz.

We left Nantes a few days ago now. The night before leaving we made friends with the bartender of a small place that we had tucked in to later in the night. We chatted for hours and before heading home for the night he asked us to meet him for breakfast before we left the next morning. Julien (that’s his name) swung by our hotel on his longboard and the three of us walked to a small coffee shop nearby. He obviously knew the owner well and had come prepared with a cornucopia of french pastries and treats, that we spread out across the table to share. We drank fresh pressed juice, strong americanos and listened to Julien talk about his time as a pastry chef, his obsession with all things active (he plays practically every sport known to man), and the small region of Verdeé where he grew up, and incidentally we were headed directly for. We hit the road one friend richer and ready to see the ocean!

After leaving Nantes the landscape changed drastically across a relatively short distance. Leaving behind the dark stone homes that populate the Loire Valley, we saw the river widen as it began to feed out into the approaching Atlantic and began to notice fishings posts at every turn. Lush and dense forrest gave way to coastal pines and palm trees. We were pretty elated when we hit the coast and in a bittersweet farewell, we traded the “Loire  a Velo” for the “Velodyssey,” a similar path that stretches 1200 km travelling down the Atlantic coast.

We snagged a room at a hilarious spa/casino on the ocean and due to a aggressive storm that rolled through the next morning, we ended up having a day off of cycling and spent the majority of our time in St Brevin les Pins, alternating between  the Hammam, the hot tub and sensory showers at the Hotel’s spa.  We sampled a local seafood platter that was so fresh it was cold and uncooked and remnants of the ocean floor still clung to its various shelled creatures. After dinner one night we waltzed into the casino and in a matter of minutes after pulling a total of four slots, we walked out with more than enough the cover the cost of the hotel room. I don’t think the casino staff were big fans of ours, nor the man who had been tirelessly playing the slot next to us without a win.

From St Brevin we headed south for another coastal town on the Velodyssey called Les Sables d’Olonne. Having lost a couple days on the road we decided to throw caution to the wind and have two hardcore final days of riding. The terrain and path along the coast were built for us though. We cruised alongside miles and miles of sandy beaches, choc-a-block with cheezy resorts frozen in time somewhere around the year 1980. We cycled 155km that day and made it into the town just in time for dinner before the restos closed fort the day. Unfortunately this meant don’t pass go, so we ate at one of the nicest restaurants in the town… in our bike clothes…sweaty and sunburnt. I don’t even care if the whole staff hated us for a) being inappropriately dressed and still noticeably sweating or b) ordering the full meal deal three minutes before the kitchen closed, because it was hands down the best steak both of us have ever had…if not the whole meal experience itself!

We set La Rochelle as our final riding destination for its accessibility to Bordeaux and onwards. Our final day on the road was sunny and clear and we had such a great day of riding, both because we knew our little legs would see some rest after, but also in a bittersweet way to say goodbye to the incredible experience the past ten days have been. We passed hundreds of fishing posts along the way as well as small wooden shacks where locals harvested and sold fleur-de-sel, and similar products. Obviously we had to buy some.

La Rochelle did not disappoint. We ate local oysters and mussels and walked the vibrant and bustling sea wall around the town’s port. We made friends with an incredible artist named Etienne —who we’ve arranged to buy some work from—and bopped around town with him and a small group of his friends. We hopped on a train yesterday morning and headed to Bordeaux, where we had an accidental but lovely five hour layover and were able to bike around most of downtown. After our brief visit and one last short train ride, we arrived in Biarritz and were greeted by Eddy. We were welcomed with a feast of foie-gras, oysters and a whole guinea fowl roasted with olives and roasted chestnuts.

So that’s that. We put ours whips away. Now its time for some reading and beaches and normal calorie consumption. Merci pour le bon moment, France! 

Total distance: 235.3 km

Villandry to Angers: 121.6 km, Angers to Nantes: 113.7 km

Writing this post from the quirky and eclectic city, Nantes. Once the capital of the province Brittany, Nantes reflects a collision of old and new world; industrial and artistic. After two very serious (but very fun) days of riding, we decided to spend two nights here and take a moment to rest and recoup before hitting the Atlantic.  Nantes has a reputation for being a city of innovation and industry. Today, after some minimal re-con, we were able to experience this first hand. With a quick cycle from our hotel we crossed a small bridge to the Les Machines de L’Ile, a massive art project/installation that is the brain child of two french artists, and is meant to reflect Jules Verne’s “invented world,” Leonardo da Vinci’s mechanics, and the industrial narrative of Nantes. A handful of machinists, builders and engineers work to create large scale mechanical animals, that with a few operators can move quickly and realistically through the space, which was previously a shipyard and can accommodate the creatures. The piece de resistance was a 40ft tall elephant that functioned on 62 cylinders and sprayed water from its trunk. Along with a throng of other visitors, we deked and ducked around it as it stomped and sprayed through the square.

Being back in a metropolitan city puts into contrast the range of places and land that we’ve covered. Two days ago we left the quaint and historic town of Villandry and headed for Angers. The incredible little Troglodyte we had been lucky  enough to stay in a few nights before suddenly felt a little less unique, as our bike route carried us alongside and directly through thoughtfully carved limestone passageways. This leg of the trip saw quick and furious climbs, met with almost immediate descents. Needless to say we were exhausted and spent by the end of it! We held it together just long enough to hobble to a new burger joint around the corner from our place, then collapsed.

We woke up the next morning and, whoa hey whats that!? THE SUUUUUUN! Blasting a solid 15 degrees warmer than the day before, we shed some clothes and biked off into the glorious heat of the day. Lucky ducks that we are, there was an outdoor jazz fest that scattered  for about 4 km along  the bank of the Loire. We rode past trios of strings, an entire choir, ambitious one man drummer bands and snazzy sax players, each playing different (some very not jazzy) styles. And man were people picnicking! The “bonnheur de vivre” was in full fantastic french effect.

This day was a long one because, common, that relaxed lets sit along the river bank with a glass of rosé behaviour is very contagious! So we stopped once or twice, or thrice. We rode past fields and fields of white cows and their calfs and saw a handful of week old foals.

Its been fascinating to watch the actual landscape of the river transform as we move further west. For long stretches yesterday, there was nothing more than the odd fisherman, camped along the bank with a rod and a beer in hand. We looked like a bunch of stupid sunburnt kids when we finally arrived (we lost our sunscreen and got wicked burns) and Steve says his mouth hurt from all the “bonjours!” he said to the other cyclists.

We’ve come to realize that no matter what time we leave, or how many patisserie stops there are, or how many or few afternoon roadside beers we have, 95% of the time it is 9hrs from door to door. C’est la vie.

Walking through the streets of Nantes today, it was impossible not to notice that the vast majority of banks have been boarded up. We’ve been conscious to the amount of security and police details that we’ve seen both in Paris, but also in the smaller hubs we’ve visited. At first we assumed that the men roaming the streets fully equipped with semi-auto assault weapons were in response to the recent attacks in Paris, however, when we arrived in Nantes and saw the banks and did a little back checking, we now know the people are up in arms over a recent proposal for sweeping new labour laws. The feeling in Nantes is that violent protests are imminent! Aaannnd ergo so is our departure.

On a lighter note…..

Here’s a quick video of riding the Loire à Vélo through the troglodyte village in Souzay-Champigny.

Total distance: 180.3 km

Orléans to Amboise: 116.3 km, Amboise to Tours: 34.5 km, Tours to Villandry: 29.5 km

I’m writing this post from the inn we are staying at for the night, in a small (1000 people) town called Villandry. There’s an incredible thunder and lightning storm going on outside and we’ve opened all the windows in the room. Given the ‘unseasonably’ rainy weather that northern France has been experiencing, we’ve made some tweaks to our route and chopped bigger rides up into smaller days. Spontaneity and impulse have become our friends, and we’ve ended up in some incredible digs the past few nights.

After leaving Orléans, we hopped onto one of the multiple bike routes that run throughout France and its neighbouring countries. The “Loire à Vélo” is pretty much cycling paradise. Guided by small route specific direction signs, sometimes seemingly surreptitiously placed, you get the sense you are part of  of scavenger hunt for adults. Paved paths run alongside the Loire river, taking brief breaks and veering off around farms or small clusters of homes, but always winding back to the river’s edge. Steve discovered an app that gives you real time geo-locating, as well as listings for food, hotels etc, along your route. We used it.  As per the usual now, roughly five croissants each were consumed and we had the tastiest local cheese plate in a teeny tiny town on the river.

Having found a rare available night at an otherwise booked solid airbnb gem, we opted for a longer day, solely so we could make it to this particular lodging. Nestled in the hills on the outskirts of the town Amboise, we stayed in an ancient troglodyte cave. Apparently as ubiquitous as French châteaus, the Loire Valley is home to hundreds of these domesticated cave dwellings. Passing 100km of riding, we pulled into a rainy Amboise around 9pm and ate a large pasta meal at a cheesy (bad pun) Italian resto. Our hosts—a young Danish/French couple—met us halfway across the town’s major bridge…they were having drinks at a place just on the other side. After unfortunately turning down their invite to join, purely from exhaustion, we followed their directions and headed for OUR CAVE.

The cave offered a cooool and deep sleep, and we were greeted first thing by our host Alexis, with a delicious breakfast. We sipped coffee on the cliff outcrop and chatted about how one comes to own/live in a cave.

Right before leaving the town, we hit the local car wash and had a hilarious and much needed bike power wash!

Given we were facing another potentially rainy day of cycling, we decided to head to the next big city and  explore some of the area’s châteaus. We grabbed a hotel in Tours (a bustling university town) and hopped on a train to the famous Château Chenonceau to see what life was like way back in the 16th century.

Back in Tours, we went out on the town.  We visited a small Spanish tapa bar with an extensive wine list and some obnoxiously stinky cheese (which we ate and I think sweat out today), and finished the night at an French Irish pub, where we made friends and through our broken french, almost certainly invited a small French man to come live with us in Vancouver……we live in Victoria.

We woke up this morning, had a massive breakfast and headed out for another manageable day of cycling. Tours was many things, but most of all I will remember it as the place where Steve, very much accidentally and unknowingly, ate the gastrointestinal tract of a pig. It wouldn’t be good travelling without some questionable food choices.

We biked through Villandry around 3:30 this afternoon and liked what we saw. We found this inn, which is a restored church which boasts not one but TWO hot tubs just a few hundred feet from the town’s château. We meandered down the road to one of the best restaurants in the region, and despite his misguided choices earlier, Steve somehow ended up eating the small intestine of a cow! For me, his day of food choices is a gift that will keep on giving. Can not stop laughing.

Looks like the weather may be finally turning so we are looking forward to a few days of some big rides as we head towards the Atlantic Ocean. Next stop, Angers.

Here’s a clip which should give you an idea of the cyclist’s dream that is the Loire Valley.

Distance: 93 km

Time on Road: 7.5 hrs

Had a bit of a slow start the morning after the big first day of biking. Our host for the night had kindly left us a “continental” breakfast for the morning. What this really means, is enough loafs of bread to feed a family and a whole lotta jam. So we ate enough baguette to feed a family, drank copious cups of coffee and slid into our almost dry clothes before hitting the road!

While the weather wasn’t necessarily on our side yet, the landscape was incredible and to be honest, the light sprinkling of rain kept us cool and refreshed for the ride. What we realized as the day went on is that most cyclists heading to the Loire Valley and further south, seem to avoid to first leg and more often than not will pick up their route where we are starting from Orléans! That is where the going gets good.

So that being said, the routes from Paris to the Loire are all reaally highway heavy! We played it well and sneakily though. Conscious of the railway and the major highway, we took smaller roads and paths that kept us cycling parallel to them, and tried to never let them fully out of sight. We did have to briefly hop on the freeway, where some of the 18 wheelers were NOT so friendly as Parisian drivers, and we got a few honks and I’m sure “stupide tourists” from inside the cars. Our aversion to being on the highway took us so far as to hop around a fence and carry our bikes and belongings over a bridge covering the railway.

We did find one bike path yesterday that lasted about five glorious blocks, but in the excitement of discovering it, Steve took the curb from a weird angle and took a bit of a fall…. into pile of, how do you say, ‘merde’. But despite a pretty decent gash, he heroically brushed himself off and got back in the saddle.

We ate some incredible shwarma from a suspicious man in a small town, in a shop which upon leaving we realized wasn’t even open. We aren’t entirely convinced he even worked there…..but the food was good!

Pulled into Orléans around 7pm, cleaned our selves and our wounds and went for a wonderful french dinner just outside the town square. Orléans is known as the city where Joan of Arc, along with the Royal French army, reached a victory in the Hundred Years War. History.

Off to the Loire to see us some Chateaus now!!

Here’s a short video of our ride out of Prunay-en-Yvelines through the rapeseed fields. Incidentally, they use these plants to make canola oil, which sounds better than ‘rapeseed oil’.

 

Distance: 109.5 km

Time on Road: 12 hours

I am writing the morning after our first day of riding because last night we were pretty much physically and mentally unable! Right, let’s start from the beginning.

We left Paris proper around 11am yesterday morning. Although chaotic, at times Paris traffic feels like a choreographed dance. Each dancer equally nimble and aggressive. Weaving around cars and exhibiting some newly jerky moves we had adopted from our few days of cycling in the city, we made our way south. Heading south west we popped in at Versailles, where we had an overpriced lunch, marvelled at the gardens and did a dreamy cruise around the palatial cross shaped canal. Upon leaving this eden, the day took some interesting turns, as did we. We passed through countless small towns that were soaked in lilac and built entirely of stone. We heard people manually tolling the bells at small churches in each town and rode past fields and fields and fields of vibrant yellow flowers.

Somewhere between Versailles and our final destination we stopped in a small town centre and fuelled up on fruit, croissants and Kronenbergs, which in hindsight was absolutely necessary because shortly after this the GPS that we use decided it had a different plan for us. As a rule of thumb we tend to avoid major freeways or areas with little to no shoulder. Considering this, the GPS took some liberties and formulated  a route that ultimately felt like the universe was hazing us into some higher echelon of cycling mastery. Things got rocky. At times this new route we were on resembled a mix of mountain biking (but laden with 50 lbs of luggage) and cycle cross. The “roads” were definitely not highways, but were taking us almost directly through these vast fields we had biked by only a few hours before. However, at this point the rain fall was considerable and the unpaved and grassy lanes began to turn into a loose mud. The good old Hemingway quote became more and more comical as the day went on.

Near the end, around 10:30 pm, and sufficiently soaked to the bone, we found ourselves pulling our bikes through 2ft tall grasses for about 10km. Save for a mini meltdown on my end, that I was luckily able to channel into what I would call hysterical laughter, we stuck it out and finally emerged onto a small paved street. And here is where I very much by accident, killed a frog.

 We pulled into our lodging for the night, our bikes thickly caked in a clay like mud, around 11:15—almost 12 hours after we left the bustling streets of Paris. Yesterday was one of the most beautiful, trying, difficult, exhausting, invigorating days of cycling I think both of us have ever experienced and despite some tears and frustration I am oddly happy that we kicked this ride off with a day for the books.

Here’s a video of leaving Paris which we hope conveys the madness that biking there is.