Day 12 - Home

The weather in Hull was atrocious as we landed. Only a short ride to drop Catherine off though so I didn't bother with waterproofs. I'd rather ride in wet leathers than a dry waterproof rompersuit, especially when there's a hot shower and dry clothes waiting for me back home.

Apart from one brief spell of rain, we've managed to avoid rain all holiday so simply looked on this as retribution.

Called in to see the folks on the way home then rode through the dismal British weather to complete the trip and park the bike up for a well deserved rest. It's behaved impeccably all holiday. It had a top up of oil in Gex (about 1,600 miles into the trip) and a mirror rattled loose so was quickly nipped up with a spanner. It asked for nothing else all trip.

It's been another great trip this year. Given that we only had 11 nights away, two of which were on the ferry, I wasn't sure how much we'd be able to achieve. As it turns out, we did pretty damn good. We rode three of the best biking roads in Europe - the Black Forest High Road, the Route Napoléon and the Routes des Grandes Alpes. We had a day off the bike to enjoy time with friends out in France. And despite the forecasts saying otherwise, the weather for the most part was superb.

A fair chunk of motorway riding was necessary on the first and last day abroad, but it's bearable. You just need to grit your teeth and get through Belgium.

Catherine was unsure of France, having experienced very little of it, but her opion has completely changed. She already knew that she loves Germany and Italy. She's now seen that France is a beautiful place full of great people, roads, food and drink. And marmots. Big vicious scary marmots.

Once again she's been perfect company. A fearless pillion, always up for banter with complete strangers and generally an all round good egg. And very very opinionated, but in a good way.

Next time, she is definitely* bringing her own bike.   

* Ignore all similar statements made previously. This time she really means it.
  

61 miles

Trip total 2170 miles

Exchange rate was €1.19/£
1l of 95 unleaded was €1.50 - €1.60 in France, €1.30 in Luxembourg, 1.70CHF in Switzerland and £1.32 back home.

Day 11 - Metz to Zebrugge

We were straight on the motorway this morning and apart from a quick fuel stop in Luxembourg and a five minute breather in Belgium, we kept going until Brugge. This motorway is always a long dull slog but needs must. At least the weather stayed good.

Brugge was overflowing with tourists. Yeah yeah, I know we're not exactly locals but give me a break. It wasn't like this last time we visited. It's a pretty place though. It is also full of gorgeous women on pushbikes. Even Catherine had to admit I wasn't just been a pest - some of the residents are stunning.

We had a bit of a wander and settled on a little tea room. Not wanting to spoil the P&O feast that lay ahead of us, I plumped for a simple waffle with ice cream. Catherine had a liquid lunch.

We tipped our waitress all remaining Euro shrapnel from the kitty, which I think amused her more than annoyed her. We then saddled up and departed Brugge for the return ferry.

There were loads of bikes on this return leg. There were only four on the outbound crossing, but the bulkhead was rammed this time. We squeezed into the penultimate bike place and a Belgian couple behind us completed the jigsaw.

Forget what I said last week about P&O finally getting their act together with ratchet straps. This was old school blue rope. I had brought a hefty ratchet strap out with me but thinking it was unnecessary dead weight, Steve and Michelle threw it in the boot of their car and brought it back home. We were returning on the Pride of York. Maybe only one of their boats has ratchet straps or maybe they're only available on the elevated platforms and not the bulkhead. I dunno. I'd appreciate confirmation though.

There was a huge group of Belgian bikers on board. They were heading to Thirsk on old Nortons for a bike rally. Thankfully they were in hotels and not camping because the weather back home looks grim.

Time for a quick shower before hitting the bar. I must have been the only person using hot water at the time because the shower was powerful enought to strip skin. I also managed to flood the bathroom floor. It's more of a wetroom so eventually drained away.

After a decent pint of Hoegaarden, we hit the buffet. Top marks all round yet again for P&O catering. I polished off two very nice main courses. Catherine finished off with a huge piece of steamed pudding. And despite been adamant that she really couldn't face it, she also attacked the cheese counter.

The entertainment in the bar was classic. Think Vic and Bob club style cabaret. When she started her rendition of 'Sex on Fire', I really couldn't place it. Despite the fact that she anounced the song before starting. Amy Winehouse would be turning in her grave over her butchering of 'Rehab'.

245 miles

Day 10 - Gex to Metz

Headed north to Besançon with the intention of grabbing a menu de jour in town. We repeated some of the roads that we used when we headed down to meet la famille Tighe last week. All great stuff.

We left the campsite quite late and by the time we'd negotiated the damn roadworks in Besançon we were too late for food.

No idea what's going on in France at the moment but it's silly season for roadworks. I've never known anything like it. I can only assume the transport department has won the lottery or had a good rummage down the back of the sofa or something.

From Besançon we headed up to Vesoul then over to Lure. There's a huge chunk of green on the Michelin map which looked interesting and no doubt quite scenic. We decided to investigate, but first we stopped for a quick bite to eat in Lure. Croque Monsieurs all round. Or ham and cheese toasties as they'd be called back home. A cheap and easy lunch. It did the trick.

From Lure we headed north to Gerardmer then onto St Die. The Tour de France is about to hit these roads and the whole route is decorated with bunting and signs. It seems that any spare old bikes around here have been brightly painted and stuck up lamp posts or in trees and hedges. Think of the Wetwang scarecrow festival stretching for miles and miles and every entry is a scarecrow cyclist in an amusing pose on an old pushrod.

The roads are superb. Monsieur Michelin had it spot on when he got his green highlighter pen out for this map. There's a few passes (cols) but they're really low ones. As in, all about 1000 meters or less. Just hills really. Further investigation is definitely needed when we come back this way next time because the roads are lovely and a pleasant change from motorway.

We stopped in St Die for a very quick supermarket shop. Just the basics really - cheese and wine. By the checkouts, where you'd find Haribo sweets at kids eye level back home, the French had an interesting take on the impulse buy tactics. They had big chiller buckets full of Kronenberg stubbies at one euro a pop. Catherine had been a good girl, and it was scorching hot outside, so I let one sneak through.

After stopping in St Die we had to crack on so picked up the long dull motorway to Metz. We decided to investigate the campsite that the two English bikers had told us about earlier in the week.

It is indeed right in the centre, on the banks of the river. It's a municipal too so only €12.

On the downside it's rammed. The campervan before us was turned away due to lack of space. Tents weren't really an issue though. There's a free for all on the riverbank for campers. There's also lots of picnic tables for public use.

The biggest gripe with this place is that the ground is a complete minefield of dog eggs. It was disgusting. We found a clear spot but had to tread a careful path to and from the tents. If I could work out who was letting their dog do this then I'd quite happily return the favour on their bloody pitch.

Our neighbour was a Dutch lad called Alron, I think. I remember his name sounded like an anagram of Arlon. He came over to say hi and we spend a lot of the night chatting. He gave us a pack of biscuits as a little gift. They were Dutch waffle biscuits with maple syrup. A huge sugar rush but quite moreish. He's here to fish the Mosselle and had three lines cast out from the doorway of his tent.

Carp and catfish were his game. He'd already had a 22lb carp out this week. He said there's some huge catfish in the river. They grow up to 6 foot long.

They'll happily take a swimming dog if they're peckish. I may just be able to find him some bait.

283 miles

Day 9 - Modane to Gex

Despite all efforts for a super early start today it was still 10.30 when we hit the road. In fact it's always 10.30 when we hit the road, give or take a few mins. I'm gonna give up and lie in from now on. It really won't make any difference.

The nice lass who runs the place was manning reception. I popped in to settle up. She has a lovely softly spoken French accent. It beats my ridiculous Yorkshire French accent hands down. I spoke to her in French but it was obviously too much to bear because was trying to steer the conversation into English. I much preferred it when she spoke in her native tongue.

First pass we hit today was Col de l'Iseran. It's probably my favourite Alpine pass. The road and scenery is nothing short of amazing. The views from the D902 are stunning and it takes true determination to keep your eyes on the road. At the top it's a bit of a glacier fest and the air up here feels as fresh as it comes.

And, despite the bold claims of the Col de la Bonette, this is genuinely the 'highest paved mountain pass in Europe'.

Just before Bourg-Saint-Maurice we pulled into a little roadside restaurant and bar called Auberge le Perce Neige. We fell into some nice wicker seats on the patio and ordered drinks. Catherines beer looked more appealing than my coffee in the blazing heat. There were plenty of locals eating the menu du jour which looked great but we just wanted drinks and a rest. The couple running it were lovely. They happily charged my depleted camera for me so I could take lots more pictures of Catherines looking smug with ice cold beer.

Onto Cormet de Roseland and more incredible scenery. As tectonic plates collided and created the Alps, I suspect that the area around here was the epicentre of some major geological action. There's craggy mountains and huge folds of rock jutting out of the ground at all angles. It's a proper car crash of mountains.

We stopped in Beaufort to pick up cheese, bread, wine and a few provisions for tea. Beaufort cheese is delicious. It's got a real distinct nutty flavour. You can find it back home if you look carefully. We bought a big slice of special reserve. The lass in the deli said it was hand produced on a farm and tried to emphasise the amount of time and effort involved by pointing to a grainy black & white photo of some old boy attending to important cheese duties. No idea if this was all true but we were sold and she made a good sale. We stopped just north of the town and ate lunch in a little picnic area on the road to Flumet.

By the time we reached Col de la Colombiere we needed a rest. Drinks at the passes can be nasty. Think of the vending machine hot chocolate we had yesterday. The restaurant up here though bucked the trend and knocked up two perfect espressos from a huge industrial gaggia coffee machine. It was only €1.50 a pop. We even got a cute little waffle shaped biscuit with it too.

The last stretch of Route des Grande Alpes before Thonon is always a favourite although you don't often see it dry like today. It constantly flicks left and right in a huge series of lovely bends at the bottom of a narrow gorge.

It was running late but we wanted to clear Geneva. The weather was good and the roads were quiet. If we waited until the morning it could be completely different.

We passed the scene of our accident from a few years back and the cafe that took us in after it. The fountain in Geneva harbour was turned on this time. It's huge. Riding past you don't realise just how massive it is until you notice the dots at its base are actually people.

Geneva is full of beautiful people but even that couldn't convince me to spend any more time there.

We took the shortest path through to the French border and found a little municipal campsite in Gex. Change from €15 and the showers seem great. The pitches are massive and all hedged off into individual plots. We couldn't ask for anything more.

208 miles

Val d'Isere

Day 8 - Saint-Sauveur-sur-Tinee to Modane

It absolutely hoofed it down last night. There was some crazy lightning in the mountains and some mad storms but all was good by morning. The tents were bone dry when we woke up.

I'd set my alarm bright n early so grabbed an early shower then walked into town to the bakery to pick up breakfast. My more lethargic travel companion needed slightly more coaxing to pull her from her slumber. As usual, the waft of coffee did the trick. By her third cup of espresso she's able to talk about as much sense as you'll ever get out of her. It all goes downhill rapidly as the caffeine wears off though.

There was a helicopter overhead, flying construction materials back and forth from one mountainside to another on a huge winch. We watched it for a while over breakfast then made tracks.

First stop after breakfast was Col de la Bonette - the highest road in Europe.

Although that's not strictly true. The pass actually peels off before the summit but there's a tiny loop that takes you up a further 87m to the summit (Cime de la Bonette). I felt a bit cheated. It's like that tower in Malaysia (I think) that secured the title of the worlds tallest building for a while after they stuck a massive great aerial on the roof.

This little loop road to the summit (or cime in French) is more accurately the 'highest paved through-route in Europe'. Not quite so catchy now, huh? It's also the highest point reached by the Tour de France. However, there are several higher passes around here, including the Stelvio and the Col de l'Iseran.

Catherine also bestowed the Col the honour of the coldest road in Europe. It was certainly a bit nippy up there. Apparently she gets as grumpy in the cold as I do in the heat. I wouldn't have believed it, as I can get pretty damn crabby and short tempered when I'm too hot, but I can now confirm that she's a right miserable bugger unless she's super toasty.


We passed a Lotus Elise that was very gently winding up the mountain. Strange for such an agile little car, but it all became clear when we saw the Belgian plates.

We returned to Barcelonnette but alas could find no trace of any marmot sanctuary so we rejoined the Alpine route.

UPDATE - there is a marmot sanctuary in Montreux, Switzerland at the eastern end of Lake Geneva. Rochers-de-Naye Marmottes Paradis. The TripAdvisor reviews sound very promising! It's definitely on the list for next time.

As we moved on to Col D'Izoard the heavens opens. It was the first rain to hit us while we're riding this year but it more than made up for the previous long and very enjoyable dry spell. It proper hammered down.

We skipped a couple of sheltered spots under the trees and pushed on to the summit. We expected to find a nice restaurant but it was pretty sparse up there. Nothing but a tat shop selling marmot related memorabilia and expensive Clix drinks. We both opted for a nasty hot chocolate, but it was hot and we appreciated the shelter. The tiny gift shop soon filled up with French cyclists who all stripped out of their wet lycra and emptied all the Kronenberg from the fridge. The place started to smell of wet dog, and I know we contributed to that, but was just too many semi naked French men getting pissed for my liking so we moved on.

We threw on our hi-viz rave vests before setting off. A legal requirement in some countries now. You look like a learner rider again but after our incident in Geneva a few years back we felt far safer in a bit of garish day-glo.

On the way up Col du Lauteret a marmot ran across the road in front of us and dived into a hole in the stone wall. Catherine had jumped off the bike before I'd even stopped and went running over with her camera. He was kinda tucked up in his little hidey hole but she was happy to get a few snaps of his backside.

Quick supermarket stop in Briançon, where I mistakenly walked up to a complete stranger who looked a little bit like Catherine. In a bad light. Perhaps.

On to Col du Galibier the clouds descended. It was near zero visibility and freezing. If Catherine wasn't wearing her disco vest, I wouldn't have been able to see her sat right behind me in my mirrors. Then, to really keep us working, we hit the loose gravel. About 15k of freshly laid loose road surfacing on a hairpin mountain descent into St-Michel-de-Maurienne. It was awful. I spent the entire time educating Catherine with some news French words. Although they were more of the 'oops, excuse my French!' variety.

Riding through Modane I remembered camping here a few years back. Then I remembered the campsite was right next to a freight train line that ran all night. Sat nav guided us to another site 10 mins away in Aussois.

It was brilliant. A proper municipal site. Super cheap (it was only €12.40 when we settled up in the morning), free wifi, free piping hot showers, super clean and massive pitches. It restored my faith in French campsites. It was even hammock friendly. We chose a quiet secluded pitch surrounded by trees. There was nobody near us, apart from a French bloke who offered to help me take the bike down to the pitch. As our pitch was down a steep grass bank I thanked him but declined. The bike would spend the night sleeping above us.

We sparked up the stove, lit loads of citronela tea lights and dotted them around our pitch so it looked like some kind of satanic ritual would be taking place.

Catherine then polished off my red wine, despite the fact she doesn't normally enjoy red. From the little bit I managed to get, I could tell it was a mighty fine bottle though.

186 miles

Day 7 - Castellane to Saint-Sauveur-sur-Tinee

Was woken up this morning by the sound of bikes screaming along the road outside. There really is no finer dawn chorus.

Grabbed an excellent shower then we settled up. €25 and defo worth it. Castellane is expensive but this place deserves the business. I'll remember it next time I'm in the area.

Turned straight out of campsite onto the N85. The road rising out of Castellane is superb. In fact, it's excellent all the way to Grasse.

From Grasse we dropped over to Nice. Ignore the name - Nice really isn't nice. It's endless traffic and traffic lights and blazing hot.

We slowly made our way over to Monaco. Full of money and big yachts, but no more pleasant than Nice. They were preparing for some horsey event which made congestion even worst. We assumed racing but it looked like they were setting up a show jumping ring by the harbour. We rode some of the race circuit then headed north.

We intend to take the Routes des Grande Alpes north to Lake Geneva. The first section includes the famous rally stage of Col de Turini. The southern climb was treacherous. Very narrow with nasty drop offs and tight hairpins. At the top we took a late lunch break and felt far better for food and water. The northern stretch down from the Col is much nicer.

From Roquebilliere (or rockabilly as it's now known) the road is amazing all the way to Saint-Sauveur-sur-Tinee, where we stopped for the night. There's a little municipal campsite in the town. €14 for the night.

The woman on reception was lovely. They don't have drinking water on tap but she gave me two big bottles of mineral water, free of charge. There's not many other tents here so we had a good pick of places. They're not marked out - it's just a free for all but the field is plenty big enough for everyone here.

We took advantage of the free hot showers before knocking up an easy tea then popping into town. There's a jolly little footpath from the campsite into town. It's only a 5 minute walk.

We went to the only bar in town for beer and footy. Euro 2012 final, Spain vs Italy. We thought Italy would be the home team as the border is only a few miles away but Spain was getting all the cheers.

Walking home, loads of fire flies had come out. Never seen them for real before but they're wonderful little things.

141 miles

Day 6 - Laffrey to Castellane

We were straight out onto the N85 Route Napoléon today. There was no shop at the campsite and we had no milk in reserve so we kick started our day on simple granola bars and espresso.

The lake was still a bit nippy but the free showers were excellent.  Campsite prices have definitely gone up in the last few years. Municipals used to cost peanuts but we're paying about €18 a night this year, for two plus bike. Catherine had read about camping prices going up in Europe. Visitor numbers are down and they need to make their money so prices went up. Apparently this is especially true in France.

Route Nap is amazing. It's the weekend so all the coppers we saw were fully expected and only in the posted speed limits. There were two lots of them but nothing south of Corps and other motorists gave us plenty of warning. Not that we ever knowingly speed in posted limits. There are signs in most villages that display your speed as you approach them. Get it wrong and it displays a sad face. Get it right and you get a smile. We always aim for a smile and cheer when we get one. If they had these things on all biking roads back home I'd never be tempted to speed again!

The road after Corps is excellent, especially the road down the mountain into Gap. There's a huge sweeping left hander right before Gap where you can get cranked over.

After Gap and down to Digne-les-Bains, I recall the N85 getting a bit dull so we headed east on the N94 to Savines-le-Lac. The last 10k before Savines are lovely and like most roads road here, very scenic.

We rode over the long low bridge spanning the river into Savines-le-Lac. I love this bridge. It always reminds me of the overseas highway in MI3 where Philip Seymour Hoffmans mates come to extract him. My unimpressed pillion hasn't seen MI3 and said Hull's got the Humber Bridge to which no other bridge can ever compare.

Running on fumes we pulled in to top ourselves up with a menu du jour. There are two restaurants overlooking the lake immediately after the bridge, both pretty busy and both bike friendly. We chose the second - Le Relais Fleuri. It was slightly more expensive but nicer and, as it turned out, far more popular with locals and bikers. They even have complimentary visor cleaner and screenwash by the entrance steps where you park your bike. They kindly gave us a table next to another unused table, which we could use for all our biking clobber.

The €18 menu sounded perfect. Catherine struggled to choose between the goats cheese salad starter and the terrine. I had a similar dilemma with the waitresses. I'd usually go for the brunette but the blonde looked like a slightly rough Caroline Flack, which really did it for me.

The food was equally impressive and the portions huge. We were just about full after the starter but the food kept coming. Veal for Catherine, Bass for me. Both were cooked to perfection. Catherine had salted caramel ice cream for dessert. A new one on me, but it's really popular over here and she's addicted to the stuff. Tab, with beers and plenty of coffee, came to a very reasonable €48. Our waiter filled up our water bottle with fresh cold water, then we rode around the lake and on to Barcelonnette.

Noticed there's a campsites just after the restaurant in Savines-le-Lac, on the D954 to Barcelonnette. It's a short walk to the town and right next to the lake.

Catherine saw a sign for a marmot sanctuary in Barcelonnette and said we have to visit it on our return journey. We also passed a zoo that had a bit scary marmot on the sign. One day, mark my word, marmots will become the new meerkats of popular culture.

The climb out of Barcelonnette on the D908 to Col d'Allos is narrow and sketchy, especially when it's full of cyclists. The descent to the south is much nicer though and from Allos to Colmars it opens up nicely. Where the D908 and D955 fork, we took the 955 all the way to Castellane. It's an awesome road and very scenic, all the way over the EDF hydro electric dam and into Castellane.

We stocked up on food and fuel in Castellane then headed out of town, back on the Route Napoléon. I've camped in Castellane before and it's busy and cramped. A few miles out of town we found a great campsite called RCN les Collines de Castellane. It's run by a young Dutch chap called Ari. It's huge and spotlessly clean with great facilities. The pitches are massive. Ari gave us the figures and the pitches here are something ridiculous like four times bigger than those in town. He rides around during the night on a golf buggy making sure everything is ok. He found us at one of the picnic tables about midnight, drinking wine and eating (yet more) cheese so stopped for a chat.

I picked up the wine, and some sausage, from a little store down the road that serves local produce. Both were produced in the area and were excellent. Catherine noticed that I'd chosen a wine called 'pervert'. It was actually pierrevert, but top marks for observation.

156 miles