Biking (MTB) along the Canal between the Two Seas (France) (5)

Translated into English.

Facteur4 Regular ·2011-04-14

I’m proud to announce the opening of the first rest stop for hikers along the Green Way of the Garonne lateral canal in my town!

Located by the canal just before the port of Valence on the way from Agen, it will open to the public for Easter. Well-equipped for picnics with a barbecue and cooking plate, it’ll offer a pleasant break and information spot. You’ll also be able to take a shower and nap in the bunks—but unfortunately, no overnight stays. (Photos to come.)

My dream of turning old lock-keeper houses into stage lodgings along the route isn’t close to becoming a reality. The downside of bike travel, when you’re like me and don’t have the energy to carry a tent, is that it gets really expensive.

With its 5,000 residents, Valence d’Agen offers:

http://www.valence-dagen.com/hebergement.php

As well as its municipal campsite, where renting a bungalow might be a good deal for a group: http://valencedagen.fr/tourisme/logement.htm It’s right next to the swimming pool, the equestrian center, and the rugby stadium—unavoidable in the Southwest. Even more unique is the roller-skating speed ring, where my town has already hosted European and World championships.

You know my dislike for competition, but I have to admit there’s something appealing about inline speed skating. A certain elegance and a rush of speed when the skaters, in single file for better aerodynamics, pass close to the crowd—evoking a train with the sound of the wheels and the draft they create.

For the 25th year in a row, Southwest France will host the International 3-Track Trophy, the world’s biggest inline speed skating race on a track, on April 23, 24, and 25. A thousand skaters from all over the world will gather in Pibrac, Valence d’Agen, and Gujan-Mestras.

Footage from last year’s event:

http://www.vodemotion.com/video/8385-trophee-international-des-3-pistes-1ere-journee-a-pibrac

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Bartabas33 Regular ·2011-04-14

Hi, I’m taking the opportunity of your last email to agree with your statement that the greenway from Bordeaux to Lacanau is indeed pretty tedious; I also found the greenway along the canal quite monotonous. The difference is that the canal route is longer.

As for Valence d’Agen, I also agree that it’s a charming little town, especially since it’s only a few kilometers away from our fantastic nuclear power plant—which, as everyone knows, is super secure and spotless, given that we in France are the best and there are never any accidents here (except for AZF, the Mediator scandal—our drug safety is just as strong as our nuclear safety—and so on), but that has nothing to do with cycling, though...

But seriously, Valence is cute.

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RA Ralevy ·2011-04-15

...My dream of old lock-keeper houses turned into stage lodgings along the route isn’t about to come true anytime soon. The downside of bike travel when you, like me, don’t have the courage to carry a tent is that it gets really expensive. ...

Your dream might become reality with time. In fact, there’s already an example not far from Valence d'Agen. In Saint-Jean de Thurac, there’s a hostel called "La Poule à Vélo" set up in a lock-keeper’s house by the canal. It serves as a bar, restaurant, gourmet grocery, and lodging. Of course, you’ll need to book ahead.

http://www.servimg.com/image_preview.php?i=265&u=11455007

Philippe

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-04-24

Thanks, Philippe, for sharing this lovely spot. I’d already noticed it and hope to take my wife there for lunch since the distance from our home to La Poule à Vélo matches her round-trip range.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite match my dream of stage lodgings all along the Canal des Deux Mers in the old lock-keeper houses. Because it *is* a dream: Sleeping accommodations and sanitary facilities available on a self-service basis for 5 to 10 € per person, left before departure in a wall niche. A bit like some municipal campgrounds open off-season without staff. When you leave, you drop your payment with a little thank-you note in the mailbox.

Here are the promised photos from the opening weekend of the rest stop in VALENCE D'AGEN. Congratulations to the municipal team.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-05-27

Day 1 – 26/05/11

Hello friends, here I am again on my favorite Greenway. You’re probably thinking: "Here he goes again, see page 3 30/05/10." Yet it’s the same scenario: a north-westerly wind as I head toward Agen train station, following the lateral canal of the Garonne. But this time, I left a quarter of an hour earlier (forgetting my jacket, scarf, hat, and gloves, which might’ve come in handy).

I left Valence d’Agen at 6:45 AM. After 9 km, I left the Tarn-et-Garonne department for Lot-et-Garonne. Just 13 km in, my right knee reminded me I was riding into the wind and that my MTB was heavily loaded. The handlebar bag alone weighed 4 kg, carrying not just my phone, camera, and GPS, but also—for the first time—a 10-inch netbook (1.3 kg) plus its charger, which stupidly added another 300 g (we could do without its 16 A plug and bulky 220 V cable). Two VAUDE panniers (known for being waterproof) were also loaded to 4 kg each.

That’s 12 kg, plus the bike’s 17 kg and my water bottle, bringing the total to 30 kg—without even camping! Luckily, at 1.82 m, I only weigh 55 kg, making the total rolling weight (which might make some people laugh) 85 kg—still reasonable, all things considered.

I reached the station at 8:15 AM after 27 km, not a drop of rain despite the storms forecast for the Southwest. Having avoided the stress of missing the only daily Agen–Nantes train at 8:57 AM, I had time to grab a sandwich, drink, and dessert before facing the dreaded climb into the Corail carriage. Thanks to SNCF for equipping this Intercité with 3 bike-friendly wagons (only 2 hooks per carriage, though), despite the train’s short length.

It was the last carriage that stopped in front of me, and I chose to board it because of the small white bike logo on a blue background. Unfortunately, many passengers had the same idea, as it was parked right by the platform entrance. This infuriated the conductor, who had to delay the train’s departure. I squeezed through the crowd with my handlebar bag slung over my shoulder to load my two panniers. Then I went back down against the flow and waited for everyone to board before hoisting my bike through the narrow door and up the two large steps. Once the bottleneck cleared, the train started moving while I was still struggling to hang the front wheel—the hook’s opening was too narrow. I had to force it, lifting the MTB with all my strength. Thankfully, my panniers weren’t attached to the rack like on my first trips. I managed to hang it, but I think it’d be impossible with knobby tires.

Now I’m on the rails toward Brittany’s canals: http://www.canaux-bretons.net/pages/presentation.htm It was Francis I who, in 1539, authorized the canalization of the Vilaine, which crosses Rennes and meets the Ille there. Already used by the Saint-Sauveur Abbey of Redon in 830 as a commercial trade route, the Vilaine made Redon a river-maritime port. The works faced resistance from fishing weirs and mill dams. Locks with chambers and double gates didn’t exist yet. Boats that ventured through the single-gate maritime doors took great risks. But in 1542, the first wine-laden boat was welcomed with great fanfare in Rennes. The Vilaine is temperamental, and its destructive mood swings caused many entrepreneurs from Flanders and Italy to fail in succession. It wasn’t until 1575 that the first chamber locks appeared. In 1784, a massive project began on the Vilaine between Redon and Rennes, with a regiment of 800 men deployed. To escape poverty, just as many men volunteered, including salt workers used to digging canals. They were fed only grains, replaced by chestnut or acorn porridge during famine.

In 1804, work began on the Ille-et-Rance Canal, linking Rennes to Dinan, with navigation continuing along the Rance to Saint-Malo. River navigation between the English Channel and the Atlantic became operational in 1832.

Hence the origin of the riddle: Mr. and Mrs. *Sinmaloalanagesépadelatarte* have a son—Ferdinand. After that, I’d better take a nap. I used my eye mask and earplugs. So effective that I only noticed the conductor’s presence when I saw a small hole in my ticket, which I’d clipped to the seat tray’s closure. 20 € for 512 km—that’s a steal thanks to a PREM’S ticket. Especially compared to the 0.27 €/km final cost of my previous car. Even if the trip took nearly 6 hours due to a 20-minute stop in Bordeaux (to lengthen the train). It was during this interval that I heard the *toot-toot* of the horn attached to my frame as passengers boarded.

At 3 PM, I left Nantes station after restarting my GPS, which still struggled to locate me after a long (very long) stop. I managed to program it for Nort-sur-Erdre (30 km), where I’d booked a spot at the Vault gîte. Leaving Nantes was tough—I couldn’t always hear the GPS instructions due to traffic and because I’d given up looking at the screen in the bright sun (see page 1 09/06/08 for the pros and cons of my EVADEO). The route continued on a departmental road that briefly became off-limits to bicycles—something my GPS (in bike mode) didn’t know. Luckily, I treated myself to a gourmet break with a view of the Sucé-sur-Erdre marina. After 39 km and a detour to Intermarché (tabbouleh, gray shrimp, tomato, and 2 Norman tarts for breakfast), I arrived at an old converted mill with 8 bunk beds on the ground floor and 10 in the mezzanine, complete with restrooms, a kitchen, and a bike garage. For 8.45 € a night, the welcome was friendly, the comfort sufficient, and the equipment very complete. Only a public service could offer such a great value for money. I’ll keep fond memories of my first night in a *gîte d’étape*, especially since I was the only one sleeping upstairs, with just two people on the ground floor (luckily, because the metal beds creaked and there was already a snorer).

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-05-28

Day 2, Friday 27/05/11: Vault 7:30 AM – Redon 3:30 PM, 76 km.

I wake up early to the sound of birdsong. Not that they sing louder at dawn than the rest of the day, but the atmospheric turbulence is still very low, making the air more conducive to sound propagation. At 6:15 AM, after scraping off some leftovers from yesterday’s meal with my fingernail, I try to boil water for my tea in a saucepan on the electric stove. But the warped bottom heats the air more than the water. In the chilly early morning, it’s not a big deal. In summer, it’d be ridiculous. I prefer to place my headlamp and GPS at the bottom of a bag to lighten the load on the handlebars. I won’t need either. My goal is to follow the Nantes-Brest canal, and the superb guide I got from the Rennes tourist office will be more than enough: http://fr.calameo.com/...00001315a4af9c366225 Actually, the canal doesn’t start in Nantes, nor does it end in Brest. Boats first sail on the Erdre (which you can’t follow by bike—no towpath ever existed, and a towing service was set up as early as the late 19th century). The canal only begins at Quiheix. To get there, I have to cross Nort-sur-Erdre again. You might’ve noticed I took a first photo of the canal yesterday. I couldn’t resist the temptation while passing over it on the road to the guesthouse.

Quickly, I come across a stop sign with no direction indicated. I take a chance and go left, but after 3 km without any signs, I start missing my EVADEO. I catch up with a young man on a bike who’s just turned onto the road. Before he starts his phone conversation, I ask if I’m on the way to Nort. He confirms it, and we soon enter the town. It’s 10°C, and he’s in a T-shirt. Maybe that’s what normally constituted people wear, but having forgotten my jacket, I’m layered in three synthetic long-sleeve tops, including a turtleneck I’m glad I brought since I forgot my scarf. One thing still surprises me: why don’t people dress warmer in summer when, at the same temperature, they would in winter? Of course, I know why—they’re waiting for it to warm up during the day. For me, when it’s cold, I bundle up, and vice versa. Others crank the AC to max in summer while blasting the heat in winter. It’s beyond me!

After biking 7 km toward Blain, I reach Lock No. 4 of the Nantes-Brest canal. Indeed, Lock No. 1, St. Félix, is in Nantes, on the Erdre. The towpath is sandy yellow with small gravel. It’s pleasant to ride, and the route is marked with nice wooden posts. There’s even a sign to switch banks. But after passing a few fishermen and only one cyclist, I find the surface less smooth and am surprised the canal has a drivable path on both sides. Of course, the grass is always greener on the other side—I get the impression the opposite bank is better. Thanks to the signs, I learn that one side is reserved for cyclists and pedestrians, the other for horses. The landscape really evokes the countryside, with lots of greenery and cows. After 22 km, the steeple of La Chevillais village catches my eye with its steep slate roofs, like those of the houses. The stone walls remind me that the Armorican Massif is nearby. At the foot of the church, I find, of course, the bar and bakery. I savor two croissants and a *large* hot chocolate, the only customer on the terrace. Farther on, I stop to photograph a stone spillway for draining excess water. A Dutchman arrives, and we exchange a few words in English. He’s heading to Roscoff to catch a boat to Ireland, doing 140 km a day. He rides off at about 20 km/h, while 18 km/h is enough for me on this stretch. He’s relatively bundled up, which reassures me. It’s not until 11 AM that I shed one of my three layers because a headwind has started blowing, canceling out the warming air.

After spotting my first grey heron and first crêperie (too early to try it—or two croissants too late), I stop in Guenrouet.

The buckwheat galette with Guéméné andouille is made too acidic for my taste by the mustard and crème fraîche. Even as a kid, I loved andouille, and I remember ordering it with my parents at a restaurant in Boos (Rouen airfield). When the waitress brought the plate and asked, *‘The andouille?’* I said, *‘That’s me!’* Not just my tastes haven’t changed.

I call a group guesthouse near Redon, using the number from the canal guide. The man tells me he won’t host me alone—it would disrupt his setup for the group arriving Saturday. Far from public service, I’m not profitable. He teaches me that it’s *Guenrouet*, not *Guenroué*, while yesterday, when I asked for the road to Vault, they said *Vau*. Go figure! I reach Redon against a strengthening wind but still with the sun. In front of a city map, I can’t locate myself because the town is at the crossroads of the canal and the Vilaine River. Two teenagers can’t figure it out either. The *‘You are here’* marker is nowhere to be found (as usual). The girl adds that, on top of that, she’s a girl. That motivates the boy, who manages to point me toward the city center. The tourist office tells me there are only three hotels nearby. At my request, they give me a brochure for the Inland Waterways Museum without mentioning it’s only open on weekends this season.

I choose the Hôtel de France, which, for 39 € + (6 € breakfast), offers a pleasant welcome, a cellar for my bike, Wi-Fi, comfort, and cleanliness. http://www.hotellefrance.com/index.htm The pedestrian street lets me stop at a pastry shop/tea room. Later, I buy a slice of fisherman’s terrine and some piémontaise. Redon still bears the marks of its river past. A tidal basin was built to accommodate many boats sheltered from the tides. Unfortunately, it was quickly oversized with the advent of the railway. The old buildings bear witness, like the salt granaries sometimes threatened when the Vilaine River was too *vilaine* (nasty). The town’s name comes from a young girl of modest condition who, desperate not to win the favors of a young lord, gave birth to it through her tears. I’m surprised by the number of young people in the streets and café terraces and ask if there’s a university. I’m told it’s only due to the Catholic high school at the Abbey of St. Sauveur. Having lost its economic aura, it retains the intellectual one—I doubt the religious one. I once knew someone who, after an accident, had his nose redone at Redon Hospital. He developed an allergic reaction to the feathers coming out of his nose.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-05-29

It was in 1804 that the project to create a navigation route from Nantes to Brest was launched. The goal was to connect four river basins (Loire, Vilaine, Blavet, Aulne) and link eight rivers (Erdre, Isac, Oust, Blavet, Kergoat, Doré, Hyères, and Aulne) via three water-divide points—a real challenge for the time. Despite the difficulties, the project was completed. Spanish war prisoners and deserters from the Brest penal colony, along with the local impoverished population, were put to work on it. Many paid a heavy price. But in 1842, the 360 km waterway, complete with its 236 locks, was opened to navigation. The Nantes-Brest Canal flows in every direction. It’s like a water staircase you climb, descend, climb again, and descend once more, with as many steps as there are locks and reaches.

Day 3 – Saturday, 28th: Redon 9 AM to Josselin 3:30 PM – 68 km

No offense to the Bretons who’d claim Nantes and Mont Saint-Michel, but when I set my wheels in Redon, I’d only just entered Brittany—and only for a few kilometers in Ille-et-Vilaine before crossing into Morbihan. A change in region means a change in road surface: the ochre turns gray, and the signage shifts. A little white bike on a green background now reads *Canal Vilaine* in my direction, and the opposite way for the return. That doesn’t reassure me at all. In fact, it makes me think I might be heading the wrong way (I’ve made that mistake before, like when I took the Briare Canal toward Montargis instead of coming from the Orléans Canal—see page 3, 13/07/10). I pull out my keychain whistle-thermometer-compass from Québec, which confirms I’m indeed heading north. I already miss the beautiful wooden posts of Loire-Atlantique. Then the towpath disappears, forcing me onto the road for a bit. Back on the path, a sign showing the tangled waterways—a testament to the Herculean labor of the time—doesn’t inspire confidence. The Oust and Aff rivers connect to the canal. Soon after, I find myself in a field that dead-ends (on the wrong bank). Forced to turn around and backtrack 3 km to the bridge. On the other side, I meet fishermen, one of whom is on a bike almost as loaded as mine, with all his gear. A regular has rigged a handcart with a trailer hitch head to drive his car to the canal, then roll his equipment along the towpath. http://www.google.fr/...sp=14&ved=1t:429 A jogger passing by tells me, “Wrong side.” I don’t go unnoticed with my orange flag. Facing the kilometers of rock carved by convicts, Alain’s song (under his pile of curls) comes to mind: *“So many days, days, days of hardship…”* It matches the rhythm of my pedaling. The wind is still moderate but unfavorable. If I hadn’t been so foolish, I’d have ridden in the opposite direction. It’s obvious you should follow the canal from Brest to Nantes—the prevailing winds are northwesterly. To have the wind at my back, I could’ve taken a connection from Nantes to Lorient. Then I’d have been in *“Panic for the Lorient Express.”* The lockkeepers compete in beautifying their little domains. I pass my first boat. The ground has been recently scraped to level it. I ride past an assortment of materials used to stabilize it. A thick layer of gravel slows me down. After 42 km, I reach Malestroit at 12:30 PM. A typical village where I lunch on snail pasta. Then a change of bank brings me onto the EV1. The EuroVelo Route No. 1 http://www.departements-cyclables.org/...2ea392855cd5eb4c2f88 The surface improves. Don’t confuse it with the EV1 electric cars designed and scrapped by General Motors after a three-year lease because they were too successful with users: http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Motors_EV1 I use my horn to warn walkers, who hate being surprised by a bike coming up behind them. But getting the *pouêt-pouêt* just right isn’t easy. You have to anticipate so as not to disturb the walker’s reverie with too loud a sound, while accounting for the wind, which can muffle it. The result? I squeeze the bulb too hard, it falls to the ground, and I have to loosen the clamp holding the horn to the stem. Given its conical shape, the tighter I fasten it, the more the bulb gets pushed toward the end. 67.62 – 45.53 = 25.09 km. That confirms my new odometer after the sign for Josselin (25 km) welcomes me with its charming château. (I had to replace it after breaking the old one by forcing in a slightly too-thick battery instead of buying a new one and leaving this one unused—against my principles.) Josselin is so popular that, of course, the *gîte d’étape* is full. I’d heard as much by phone but still knocked on the door—only to close it quickly when I saw a young girl asleep on the couch. At the tourist office, I learn the hotel is also full and have to settle for a *chambre d’hôtes*. After choosing based on price and Wi-Fi, and confirming availability by phone, I hand the brochure back to the employee, asking her to just note the details on the map she gives me. She’s touched by the gesture, used to seeing people take brochures only to abandon them. I offer to drop off the map and city guide when I leave. (For those who think I’m doing it for her pretty eyes, I’ll remind you I did the same thing spontaneously in Agde.) http://www.le14stmichel.com/ As often happens in large buildings—here, a *maison de maître*—hot water takes forever to arrive, so I do my laundry before showering. It’ll dry on the balcony with the wind and sun. The village is lovely, and the pretty Basilica of Notre-Dame du Roncier offers its spiral staircase to reach the bell tower. From up there, you get a view of the rooftops, the gargoyles, and the château as a whole. On the other bank, a neighborhood has been restored by the English. Why is it always foreigners who rediscover our heritage? At the supermarket, where I buy a pre-made salad since there’s no deli, I’m given a rose for Mother’s Day. I offer it to the hostess, explaining where it came from, and warn her that with Wi-Fi, you can directly access one of her Orange email addresses, which could cause problems.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-05-29

Day 4 Sunday 25/05/11 Josselin 9:30 AM Pontivy 3:30 PM 56 km Since the towpath is paved, I wipe the sand off the chainrings and chain with paper napkins saved from meals and add a few drops of oil. Before leaving this charming village, a flowerbed invites me to take one last photo of the castle. It’s overcast and the wind is chilly. The fleece gloves worn by an elderly man I pass on his bike remind me of the ones I forgot. They aren’t essential, but wearing them for a few hours in the morning would’ve saved my hands. The leaned-forward position of a mountain biker puts pressure on the wrists and hands, which adds to the shocks from uneven paths all day. That’s one reason my wife doesn’t use her MTB (same as mine, but feminine) and prefers our daughter’s hybrid bike (when she’s not using it in Toulouse). In 25 km, I reach Rohan by 11:30 AM. A small market catches my eye, especially a roasted half-chicken. But it’s reserved. The vendor offers to carve the young chicken I buy and invites me to use the only table on the nearby bar’s terrace. I think I’ll be pressured to order something. Despite the modest temperature, I’ll give in to a draft beer. No one seems to be serving outside. Some young people, still recovering from their night out, are setting up tables themselves. Their order finally arrives with a crash of glass on the floor. I end up fetching my beer at the bar and drink it with two English guys who join me at my little table. Michka the clown arrives on his trike to announce the bread festival in the next village. Along the way, he says he’s going to Rouen (Rohan) with his tricycle. I tell him I was actually born there and tackle a good kilometer-long hill to take him up on his invitation. I arrive just in time for the bread unloading. The loaves with the Breton symbol of the white ermine look tempting but are too bulky.

On the way back to the canal, I hit 44 km/h. The lock ladders (series of closely spaced locks) also indicate a bit of elevation on the towpath. The lock-keeper’s houses are abandoned, and I operate the lock myself just long enough to take a self-timer photo (an amazing digital camera you can trigger without counting. Something I couldn’t stand with expensive film—costly both financially and chemically. However, my son’s camera doesn’t work with rechargeable batteries because they only provide 1.2 V, while regular batteries are 1.5 V. Fortunately, I discovered lithium batteries in Canada that last six times longer and are lighter. I hesitated a long time about taking my wife’s mini camera, but like all SONYs, it has a proprietary memory card and a unique connector, requiring you to carry the video cable with the USB output. So, with its charger, it weighs 375 g—exactly like the CANON with its two batteries. But since the latter has a standard USB cable, it lets me charge my GPS from the computer, avoiding the need to bring its charger).

Between Rohan and Pontivy, no fewer than 54 locks follow one another over a distance of 20 km. Here, the Hilvern watershed (water divide) connects the Oust and Blavet valleys to the Roz ponds. A few dozen meters separate the locks. This alignment of cascades (weirs) offers a stunning spectacle.

A homemade wooden directional sign for the "Maison de l’Environnement" 2 km away encourages me to leave the canal. Finding myself both uphill and sheltered from the wind among the trees, I take off my jacket to climb the gravel path. I continue until I cut across a road marked "usine" (factory). I keep going for 2.5 km toward a nature reserve, but there’s no Maison de l’Environnement. Just the characteristic smell of a waste sorting center. Turning back, I ask a couple in a camper van who also saw the sign but not the house. Another person tells me it *is* there. I spot an exhibition building and its poor prehistoric animal. It endorses SUEZ’s commitment to Sustainable Development. I’m at the Gueltas recycling center, which, of course, is closed on Sundays. Sure, why not let a company profit from our waste—we produce so much of it! Me first, with my addiction to new technology. But that it passes for environmental protection? Don’t be fooled. "Green is green," as the Americans say (translation: ecology is dollars). Translating the translation: sustainable development is just business. This oxymoron combining two incompatible words is the scam of the century. I really got worked up following that rustic, "sustainable" sign (I’ll remember it for a long time).

My company also uses this mask (to grow better) by being a Sustainable Development sponsor for the London 2012 Olympics. To make it look good, they organized sports meet-ups for employees. Me, who hates competition, I signed up for table tennis. As Pierre said, the important thing is to participate—and that’s my "favorite sport." For Coluche, "sportif" was an insult. He mocked Jacques Secrétin (23 French championship titles; in 1976, he was voted the best French ping-pong player of the century) by saying his friends called him "the sausage." Well, during these meet-ups at the CREPS in Toulouse, with a garden party lunch under the beautiful park’s trees, Sustainable Development didn’t even provide recycling bins. Like most events, don’t do collectively what you’re asked to do at home.

My other "favorite sport"—boules courts line the canal, but signs ban playing there. I ask a couple of cyclists and learn they’re reserved for Breton boules. Once made of boxwood, they’re now synthetic (thanks, Sustainable Development). So no plombing or carreaux here.

At the junction of the Blavet and the Nantes-Brest canal, I discover the Île des Récollets. The former convent garden houses a playground and picnic tables. Next to the old mill is the youth hostel: http://www.hihostels.com/dba/hostel020138.fr.htm

“The rooms are available,” the answering machine message said, and while waiting for reception to open, I lock my bike out front. Since I don’t want to explore Pontivy loaded like a mule, I lighten my handbag into the panniers, leaving a pair of socks visible on top. On this Sunday, the city—formerly called Napoléonville due to the work ordered by Napoleon—is very quiet, and the castle visit is dull because some exhibition rooms are closed for renovations. The immense Place de l’Empereur is deserted. He chose Pontivy as a river communication hub to bypass the seas then dominated by the English fleet. A monument commemorates the 1794 union of Brittany and Anjou. The youth hostel staff is very friendly. They give me a two-bed room. I also have to buy a 15 € membership card, but I don’t mind supporting such an organization.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-05-30

Day 5 Monday 30/05/11 Pontivy 9:00 AM - Inzinzac-Lochrist 4:30 PM 62 km

Tired of having the wind in my face (and irritated from constantly blowing my nose with cotton tissues), I give up on continuing to Brest, saving that goal for retirement. After 265 km, I turn off toward Lorient—or rather, I keep going straight along the Blavet Canal. That’s the one to Brest that bends past the windows of the youth hostel.

The towpath is less smooth, with a few ruts. The first jolt from the plane tree roots reminds me of the Canal du Midi (see page 1, 09/07). Aside from lockkeepers and fishermen, I only pass one jogger and a woman walking her dog. I manage to time my bell right. It takes 30 km before I come across two couples of cycle tourists. The locks are much less flowery. Yet, there are activities for tourists, like canoeing and kayaking, taking advantage of the current created by the drop from several small dams attached to the locks and operated by EDF. At Pont-Augan, a sightseeing boat is loaded with retirees. A hiker with his dog watches the maneuver. I wouldn’t want to carry such a heavy backpack all day. The lockkeeper confirms she works year-round, maintaining the canal. She advises me to switch banks right away to go to Poul-Fétan: http://sagemorw.alias.domicile.fr/poulfetan/index.php3

She kindly tells me about a nearby workers’ restaurant. As I enjoy the contents of my scallop shell, the conversations bring me back down from my little eco-cloud. Since there are only men at the bar and in the dining room, the removal of speed camera alerts is a hot topic. With the andouillette, fries, peas, and carrots—served piping hot—it’s all about soccer, kids’ training, and parents’ attitudes. Then it’s back to fines for overdue vehicle inspections, weekend cannabis detected on Monday leading to point deductions, or speeding. All of which can result in job loss without unemployment benefits due to license suspension. I quickly swallow the two pieces of cheese wrapped in a paper napkin. They’ll go well with the bread offered by the hostel (the young people there for restaurant exams in Pontivy hadn’t eaten any).

As always, when leaving the canal, the roads go uphill, and it’s time to use the big gears (on the 7-speed cassette, I always wear out the 4th and 5th). Around lunchtime, there’s a bit of traffic, and a car overtakes me just as another is coming the other way. If everyone cooperates, it works, but it’s not as nice as the canal! I didn’t check the odometer, but it’s nearly 10 km to reach the reconstructed village. When paying for entry, the cashier confirms there’s no other road except the hiking trail and the footbridge to get back to the towpath. The footbridge turns at a right angle, as the lockkeeper warned me, which isn’t easy with a bike. I tell her I could take off my panniers but don’t really enjoy the visit. I’m too preoccupied with the route and the worsening weather. Even the activity schedules aren’t being followed—maybe because of a group of schoolchildren.

At the exit, I program my GPS for Inzinzac-Lochrist, where there’s a hiking lodge listed in my guide. I called and left a message on the answering machine. As soon as I leave the dead-end, the screen shows no road. The only directions are north and the destination. I’m in front of the path and try to venture in with 85 kg on two wheels. Quickly, the path slopes, and I descend slowly on the dirt, dead leaves, and stones. I’m relieved it hasn’t rained in a while when a water flow forces me to step into the mud. As usual, this little stream cuts across the trail, which winds along the hillside, and I end up with both feet wet, unable to stay on the pedals to cross the flow. Further on, a tree trunk blocks my way. Luckily, I’d heard the sound of a 2-stroke engine and thought of chainsaws. The crew is on break, and I ask them if they plan to remove the obstacle. They say they’ll mention it to the town hall. I ask for their help lifting my bike over the trunk and realize, seeing their brush cutters (like Rotofil), that they can’t tackle the tree.

As it starts to rain, I decide to continue on the road on the opposite bank from the towpath. I won’t attempt the footbridge or see the beach. As soon as I hit the pavement, the GPS finds the route. I then ask a group of elderly people chatting after a forest walk. The rates are posted, but there’s no one at the lodge. http://be-at-home.fr/

However, the gate isn’t locked, and I enter the courtyard. The reception office is empty. I dial the posted number, which is the same one I already called in vain. I settle at a table on the terrace and can access the internet with my 3G dongle. I could wait comfortably if my feet weren’t soaked. Which I really don’t like (what *don’t* I find unbearable?), and on top of that, it starts raining. I pack up my laptop and discover that the kitchen door, meant for guests, is open. I call again before transferring the day’s photos. Finally, I boil water, always having tea bags in my pannier. With each call, I specify I’m in front of the reception, then inside, giving my number—still no answer.

Finally, a car with Dutch plates parks in front of the barrier. Opening it, I say good evening, ladies, thinking they’re guests. But it’s the owner and her sister, whom she just picked up. She seems annoyed that I’m there and even more surprised that I waited 1.5 hours. I ask about the lack of response and the missing mobile number. With so much work managing a lodge that can host 30 people, she doesn’t want to be constantly bothered. She thought she wouldn’t have any guests and is surprised I didn’t book. I understand it’s absolutely necessary in July and August, but I can’t say where I’ll stop tomorrow. It depends on the weather, especially the wind direction, visits, and unexpected muddy patches.

She can still accommodate me after tidying up. The lodge was rented for a wedding this weekend. She adds that I could’ve showered. I didn’t dare without a response. After washing my socks and myself, and once her sister is settled, she shows me the main building where I can use the Wi-Fi and asks if I want to use the pool. I say not now, regretting that this offer—which I hadn’t dared dream of—didn’t come earlier. I ask if I can eat the leftover crêpes from the wedding with all the toppings. No problem, she doesn’t eat sweets. She entrusts me with the entire property, built on the site of an old farm. The whole place, modernized and expanded, is eco-friendly.

She only prepares breakfasts for groups, but when I wake up, I find an impressive selection of herbal teas. I put my tea bag in the bio-bucket because here, biodegradable waste is collected separately. Next time, I’ll book to make sure I don’t miss anything.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-05-31

Day 6, Tuesday 31/05/11 – Inzinzac-Lochrist 9:15 AM to St Pierre-Quiberon 6:00 PM, 84 km

Before leaving the village, I drop off at the post office the envelope I had stamped to return a book carefully wrapped in bubble wrap. A superb work by Kader Benferhat: *La Bretagne des canaux* (West-France editions), which a colleague’s wife lent me. As a child, she used to swim in the Ille-et-Rance canal. I add the canal guide. I won’t need it anymore. My goal now is to follow the Atlantic coast to get back home. I lighten my load by nearly 1 kg of unnecessary weight. Ideally, I’d like to shed about that much every 300 km. I could send my dirty laundry to my wife—she’d be thrilled. Just kidding. Today, my love, on our 25th wedding anniversary, it’s tenderness I’d like to send you. I hope you’ll see the big heart I drew on the free newspaper I picked up on the train to use as extra padding, where I crossed out *Métro Boulot* to leave only *Cadeau*. Either way, my wish might come true if I lose some weight (yes, it’s possible!).

I reach the old forges of Hennebont. Founded in 1860 for the production of black, white, and printed iron for Breton canneries, they expanded in the early 20th century but couldn’t compete with the large industrial sites in the North and East (which would later struggle themselves). The closure decree came in 1966. At this early hour, I’m the only one visiting the ecomuseum. What’s the point of my hard work If Petit Navire white tuna Is canned in China. Do we really want everything to capsize? Yet we must take action If we want to save the bluefin tuna. The Earth will never run smoothly As long as man is at the helm. I then head in search of the boat graveyard of Kerhervy but get blocked several times by the Lorient business park and have to ask for directions. I decide to picnic there, saying goodbye to the Blavet River as it flows toward the ocean. I’ll end my pleasant journey along the Breton canals in Lorient, where so many sailors and captains set off into the unknown, making my adventures seem small. Bad luck—I arrive at 1 PM, and the tourist office is closed. Though it has a large glass facade, no city map is displayed—just information about the surrounding area. So I wander around Lorient for a while, looking for an old fortified town I’d imagined. I pass by navy buildings, step into a few courtyards, and when a squall hits, I decide to leave, having completely missed my visit. All I saw was the floating basin, like so many others, and the *Thalassa*. In Lorient, kenavo Since I’m leaving soon I’ll have the wind at my back Goodbye to all its sailors But I’ll be back soon To admire Brittany by bike Following all its canals I arrive in Port-Louis just before a ferry I assume would’ve made for a pleasant crossing. Missed again! I write a postcard to my colleagues, telling them that after 300 km of warm-up, I’m tackling the 1,000 km (along the coast) of the return trip, worried I won’t make it back in time to join them at work. Then I head toward Plouharnel to enjoy the Youth Hostel: http://www.fuaj.org/Plouharnel Thinking I’ve arrived, I stop by the tourist office to say hello. There, I learn the youth hostel is 7 km away, and a greenway leads to it—one I could’ve taken earlier. The director is very eco-friendly, and with my key, I’m given a trash bag and recycling instructions to slip into the bed pocket and return upon departure. In the two-bed room, there’s already a pair of pajamas and a towel in the bathroom. I think it’s a mistake and go back to the front desk. No! Yet the center is far from full. Not knowing who I’ll be sharing the room with, I take my laptop to go have dinner at *Le Petit Marinier* nearby. I can get a meal negotiated by the hostel, whose restaurant is closed tonight. But it’s charcuterie and meat—a bummer! I opt for mussels *marinière*, beer, and finish the evening with an herbal tea and Wi-Fi, happy I was forced to bring my laptop. I share the room with a man who admits to snoring and has already been unable to sleep because of a loud snorer in a neighboring room. I tell him my wife sometimes snores, but it doesn’t bother me because I think kindly that she’s very tired and needs deep sleep. I can’t imagine feeling the same about a stranger. Luckily, he uses a very effective anti-snoring spray. We have breakfast together over a friendly chat. Here, the milk is organic, and there’s no individual packaging—you’re invited to squeeze your own orange, and leftover bread goes to the director’s chickens. My bike didn’t sleep alone either. It shared its space with an electric-assist bicycle. At the Pontivy youth hostel, a woman told me she uses one effectively for all her trips in Rennes.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-01

J7 Wednesday 01/06/11 9:00 AM Auray (moving north in latitude) 3:00 PM 59 km

I want to take advantage of the peninsula’s location to visit the Pointe de Quiberon. The greenway ends at the Youth Hostel, but there are bike paths I take heading south. Actually, there are tons of them, probably used by summer visitors, but with no signs. Choosing at random, I end up in the dead end of a vegetable garden and can’t manage to follow the coastline, even though it’s so close. I eventually go back to the road to return to my starting point. I’ve ridden 20 km when I find myself back at the hostel where I could’ve left my panniers, without having seen anything picturesque except for a swallow and the souvenir shop where I buy a gift for my wife (I can’t reveal what it is here to keep it a surprise, but I promise it’s very light).

Since the V5 La Littorale isn’t described on the AF3V website (French Association for the Development of Greenways and Cycle Routes, of which I’m a benefactor member): http://www.af3v.org/index.php I take the time to describe and photograph it: Departure from Étel with the option, from June 1st to September 30th, to take the ferry from Plouhinec. A 15 km route between the Étel River and Penthièvre, part of Saint-Pierre-Quiberon. This temporary endpoint (waiting to reach the tip) drops you off at the youth hostel in Plouharnel, though it’s actually 7 km away. Not knowing about this greenway before visiting the Plouharnel tourist office, I can only describe the southern half. Its main role is to run parallel to the D786, the unavoidable axis of the Quiberon peninsula and thus very busy. It’s well isolated from the road, even though it touches it at points where they had to create a refuge for a car that might stop. It also offers a few detours inland and sometimes under trees. The surface, made of macadam squares, is good, but the expansion joints created can lead to cracking, some of which have already been patched. The section between Plouharnel and Erdeven isn’t paved. It’s dirt and small gravel, which might only deter road bikes. And to pass this information on to Julien Savary, the tireless manager of the site.

You might think that on a bike, you can stop anywhere, anytime. In reality, for the MTB to stay on its kickstand, you have to turn the handlebars to the right if there’s a slight inward slope and to the left if it’s outward. If the slope is steeper, don’t even try. It’s better to choose a post or a tree, as long as it’s thick enough. Otherwise, the bike will use it as a pivot and end up on the ground, pulled by gravity. Despite constant precautions, it takes its first fall of the trip without any damage. I’m especially careful because of the mirror at the end of the handlebars, which I’d now struggle to do without.

The greenway doesn’t pass through Plouharnel, so I have to backtrack a bit, and I arrive there at noon, only 7 km from my starting point (the hostel). I’m drawn to the unique position of a crêperie’s terrace, right in front of the house, where I have a salad for lunch. The owner confirms that this setup was done gradually, with a craftsman’s help at the end. He tells me that in the area, there isn’t a single mobile home left available for this weekend. But on this Wednesday, it feels far away, and I shouldn’t have any trouble finding a place to sleep in Vannes. It’s only when I pass through a village advertising a festival for Ascension Thursday that I realize it’s a long weekend. Biking through Breton landscapes, out of time, I’d lost track of this long weekend, which was obvious when I requested the time off. These long weekends create crowds and boost the economy. In my opinion, it’s a mistake to remove a public holiday to make France more productive. Contributing more to support the elderly is fine, but not if, at the same time, the 2007 TEPA law exempts overtime from charges. How can we favor people who work more when so many don’t have jobs? If such an idea had crossed my mind, I wouldn’t brag about it—I’d bury it deep. Even though I benefit from this law (I work one weekend a month), I find it unfair. Instead of getting paid for them, I choose to take back some of my overtime hours (earn less to live more). That’s what allows me to take trips on two wheels (soon three). Of course, it’s easy to say because my wife works, so we have enough income.

After finding the Carnac menhirs and stopping by La Trinité, I visit the La Trinitaine factory store. The stacks of cookie boxes are impressive, but I can’t buy any. I have a beer and a prune far at the bar. Then I head straight to the Auray tourist office, which is in an old chapel. Being slightly inland and arriving early lets me find a reasonably priced hotel, though it’s outside the center. This time, my laundry won’t dry. My room faces north, and even with the window open, the heat doesn’t come in. I end up turning on a little heat for the night, placing my few clothes nearby. Nuclear power plants have to keep running at night. With some factories closed, they need to lower the output, which strains the equipment and wears it out prematurely. Ideally, if all French people charged an electric car, there’d be no need to reduce the load at night. But in Brittany, there are no nuclear power plants. The Bretons didn’t want them. They’re right—after all, they’re sold electricity produced elsewhere. In France, many national roads have been renamed departmental roads and are now the responsibility of the general councils. In Brittany, they remain national roads. They didn’t want toll highways, so they got free expressways instead. Those Bretons are clever; we could learn a thing or two from them.

http://www.hotel-auray.fr/fr/

Not wanting to scramble for accommodation, thanks to the internet and my credit card, I book a hotel for Thursday of this long weekend, which could get busy. I choose Saint-Nazaire, a nearly unavoidable stop for crossing the Loire.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-02

J8 Thursday 02/06/11 Auray 8:00 AM – Saint-Nazaire 5:00 PM 108 km

The advantage of the hotel is that it serves breakfast from 7:00 AM and the buffet is overflowing with choices. The D781 is practically all mine. A young rabbit hops along before jumping into the ditch as I arrive. On the parallel N165, cars glide by. At this hour, I find them almost friendly since they’re far enough away—though by the end of the day, they’d drive me crazy. Three lines from ViaMichelin are enough to guide me. Luckily, I copied down "traverser Ploeren" because it makes me take a Lorient sign I would’ve struggled to follow without that detail. Then the D127 takes me to Vannes in 19 km as planned. All I have to do is follow a couple of cyclists who confirm they’re heading to the port.

As a colleague’s father used to say: "A worker earns his bread in the morning." For a cyclist, just remove the *c*. At 9:15 AM, I can enjoy the festivities of the Semaine du Golfe du Morbihan without the crowds: http://www.semainedugolfe.asso.fr/ Next to the old rigs, rowers struggle to synchronize as they try to exit the tidal basin. The swing bridge is closed until 11:00 AM to let the entire flotilla out. I can’t go see the bagpipes whose sound has been drawing me from the other shore.

Anyway, it’s time to fire up my GPS for the big stage. In bike mode, it guides me cleverly and via the shortest route, even taking me through a wooded path used by local cyclists and joggers. It leads me to the D104, where I put it on standby to save battery. I pass the MICHELIN depot where the Michelin Man offers air. A man offers help since the seal on his car’s valve connection didn’t hold (as often happens). He controls the pressure while I hold the connection on my rim. It’s the first time I’ve used a compressor to inflate a bike tire—usually a hand or foot pump is more than enough (even for inflating a car tire). But since I don’t have a pressure gauge, it lets me see that the pressure had dropped to nearly 2 bar, so we bring it back up to 3. Really, this day is starting off on the right foot. With this timely service (it’s much nicer to ride well-inflated on smooth pavement than on rough paths).

After filling up on air, I fill up on fluids at the local post office in Sulniac, which has a vending machine. However, just when I hoped I was done with headwinds, they’re back on the D104 heading east. An older cyclist on a road bike overtakes me, cursing the wind. In the opposite direction, a group zooms past. Plus, climbs and descents keep coming. The advantage is that when climbing, there’s no wind if it’s coming from the front. But it gets hot fast, and when descending, it gets cold. To make the most of the downhill, I lower myself by resting a thigh on the frame and sometimes even resting my chin on the handlebar bag. After 44 km, I walk a bit up a steep hill, and by 48 km, I arrive in Questembert at 12:00 PM. A quick calculation gives me 12 km/h, including the stop in Vannes. But this average might drop after lunch. Only two restaurants are open, plus a pétanque competition. Luckily, arriving early at 12:45 PM, I finish my Breton pizza (with andouille).

Heading toward La Roche-Bernard, a more favorable wind and rising temperatures let me pedal in shorts for the first time. A sign points to Branféré’s animal park and the Nicolas Hulot School. Our helicopter enthusiast chose to end his ties with TF1 to run in the presidential elections. If we’re going to make the French vote, we could have them pick the people who’ve polluted the planet the most. I think he’d rank pretty high, just like Yann Arthus-Bertrand.

Crossing the Vilaine, I take one last look at the waterway. My fascination with the Canal du Midi and bike trips led me to create this travel journal titled: "Why cycle (MTB) along the canal between two seas?" To my surprise, the Ille-et-Rance Canal and the Vilaine form a waterway with the same name: The Interdepartmental Institution for the Management of the Ille-et-Rance Canal took its current name in 1990: *Institution du Canal d’Ille et Rance Manche Océan Nord* (I.C.I.R.M.O.N). This Public Territorial Establishment is responsible for the maintenance, management, development, and tourism promotion of a remarkable heritage in Upper Brittany: the 140 km Rance-Ille-Vilaine navigable waterway. The Canal d’Ille-et-Rance, whose final project was approved in December 1803, was opened to navigation in 1837. Designed under the Ancien Régime, Brittany’s canals were largely built under the First Empire and completed under the July Monarchy. Their initial purpose was to ensure, during the Continental Blockade, the supply of the ports of Brest, Nantes, and the city of Rennes, as well as the ports of Redon, Saint-Malo, Hennebont, and Lorient. Later, the canals allowed Breton barge traffic to complement coastal shipping by transporting heavy materials in rural areas. Thus, Brittany’s canals formed a Manche-Océan link connecting the Rance to the maritime Vilaine. This stage is really long, and with the heat, the water in my insulated bottle—even though it’s supposed to keep drinks cold—no longer quenches my thirst. I bought it in preparation for my first group ride along the 540 km of the Lot in early July: http://www.zefal.com/...oduit.php?key=165001 At first, I thought it was leaking from the spout, then from the cap’s threading. Finally, I saw that water was stagnating in the double wall, where it gets in when you squeeze the bottle to drink. Since mold was developing and I had a bit of a stomachache, I stopped using it. I didn’t realize you could remove the inner container (it’s written online but not on the label) to clean it. When I did, I had to force it with a knife blade and ruined the aluminum shell. I emailed ZEFAL, who quickly replied and informed me they were working on welding the top of the two walls. Later, they offered me a prototype to test and, just before my departure for the Lot Valley, sent me an old model to replace my bottle and a new one to test. The bottle with the two welded shells worked well. At the bottom, it has two small holes to drain condensation between the two walls, which can no longer be separated. Kudos to ZEFAL for making their products in France, too. My GPS, choosing small roads, lets me enjoy the countryside, but I can’t find a bar to cool off. It even takes me down a rocky path. Luckily, it guides me onto the expressways around Saint-Nazaire. It’s tough to get on the ramp for La Baule, which is packed. Before it leads me to my hotel’s door, I stop at a café terrace. I never thought a simple mint water could feel so good.

http://chambre-hotel-soiree-etape.hotel-le-bretagne.com/

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-07

J9 Friday 03/06/11 St Nazaire 8:45 AM Bourgneuf 3:00 PM 57 km + 15

Actually, it took me a while to wake up my GPS (I have to move around for it to locate me, and restart it because I accidentally turned it off by habitually pressing the button to reactivate the display while it was still in its one-minute startup phase), so I didn’t leave until 9:00 AM.

After 5 km through the city and, of course, the industrial zone, I see a white sign for St Brévin (the green ones are reserved for major roads), and I immediately spot the bridge. I could turn off the GPS then, but I prefer to leave it in standby so it reboots faster. Then begins a slow climb up the narrow bike lane. The wind is crosswise but moderate. Any awkwardness in my load becomes noticeable, and even more so on the descent with speed. I stop at the top to take 2 photos. My eyes aren’t wide enough to take in the vast estuary. I limit my descent speed to 30 km/h, especially since there are small bumps at the joints and traffic. On the ground, red or green lamps mark the traffic lanes.

I immediately turn right toward Mindi, a neighborhood in St Brévin that the GPS didn’t want as a destination. From there, I get a better view of the majestic structure. This is where the EuroVelo 6 route begins, connecting St Brévin-les-Pins to Constanta (Black Sea) over 3,800 km: http://www.eurovelo6.org/ I hope it’ll be ready by the time I retire. In the meantime, I’m a benefactor member of the association supporting the project. No big deal since 60% of this donation is tax-deductible. Every July, the Transeuropéenne organizes a ride on a section to encourage its completion: http://transeuropeenne.free.fr/index.html For next year, I’m tempted by Warsaw to Moscow, via the Baltic countries and St. Petersburg in June 2012.

With the hard part behind me, I look forward to a relaxed day with no time or distance constraints. Since my goal is to follow the Atlantic coast, I head southwest (using the sun’s position as a guide). This leads me through long residential streets, and it’s only in St Brévin Océan that I find the coast. I stop at a pharmacy to buy more sunscreen, which lets me generously apply some from the previous tube to protect my face and legs while sitting on a low wall by the beach. At the tourist office, the hostess gives me a brochure about the bike route while shooing away wasps.

The St Brévin–Bourgneuf bike route is just a series of small roads marked with green paint on the ground—sometimes faded or thick—and Vélocéan signs. You can only go wrong in 3 situations: - Going too fast to see either the arrows on the ground or the small Vélocéan signs. - Following a bike path that the route only uses briefly because it zigzags constantly. - Getting carried away down a gravel descent toward St Gildas. I didn’t miss the chance to do this, earning myself a hike back up under the already scorching sun. As a result, I don’t reach Pornic until 12:30 PM, just as many tourists arrive for lunch. I manage fine with my mussels, fries, and beer.

Heading toward La Bernerie, the bike route takes more detours through the countryside (reminding me of the Loire à Vélo—see page ¾), so I get the wind from different angles. Even though the forecast said it’d be from the north, it feels like it’s coming from the southeast. That’s why the temperature hits 29°C. On this route, it quickly becomes exhausting. I hummed a few notes from Laurent Voulzy’s song: “vélo, vélo, vélocéan” until I realized the scam. Over more than 30 km in over 2 hours, you only see the sea for a few minutes—and only if you stop. So when the bike route heads back inland and dives into a tunnel under the D13, I decide to take the D13 instead, which goes straight to Bourgneuf-en-Retz. I just have to check my mirror. When a car approaches, I move to the right onto the shoulder, which is less smooth but, given my slow speed due to the wind, it doesn’t shake me up too much.

My goal is to check at the tourist office for available beds. The hostess can’t help because it’s just an annex. However, she marks the 3 hotels on a map. When I ask about the rest of the bike route, she has to go to the storage room to get the brochure for nearby Vendée.

Even though we’re in Loire-Atlantique, this is the Breton marsh. “Brittany grows on you!”

I drop off my panniers at the family-run hotel La Bourrine and put on my swimsuit. The plan is to go back to the part of the bike route I skipped, which seems to follow the coast. I reach the port of Le Collet, but there’s only water upstream of the lock. Farther on, boats are lying on the bottom, and the *carrelets* (large square fishing nets) are suspended in the air. At the beach, the water might be 500 m out.

I’ll have to postpone my dream of coolness. This is a salt marsh and aquaculture zone. Bourgneuf gets its name from the fact that the town had to be rebuilt closer to the sea because the water no longer reached far enough inland via the *étier* (a narrow channel with seawater). The gulf, now called Bourgneuf, continues to silt up. Continuing toward Moutiers, I see a sign for Pornic via the coast. There you go—all the ocean views the bike route deprived me of. I’d advise against using it except on busy days. It’s worth noting that paths along the beach are off-limits to bikes to ensure peace for walkers. In Moutiers-en-Retz, the tide is high enough. The water isn’t clear, and you first step on pebbles, then seaweed, and finally mud. Even moving away from the shore, you can’t get water above your waist. But my efforts to move in these conditions are rewarded by the water temperature, warmed by the sun-exposed mud at low tide. So I swim in shallow, warm water. Back at Le Collet, the stilts of the *carrelet* fishing huts are already in the water, and the wind is still against me.

After a shower, I visit the Musée des Amis du Retz (you have to say *ré*). http://museepaysderetz.free.fr/HomePage.html In the hotel garden, I choose the eel for 15 €, and the owner suggests taking it in a menu for 18.50 € including dessert. That seems like a good deal, and it’s just as well if the portion is smaller. But I’m disappointed. It’s quite tough to cut, fairly firm, and doesn’t have much flavor. I make up for it with the chocolate crunch dessert. When I point out that she forgot to charge me for my tomato juice, the owner proudly tells me they kept the rooms cool because she suffered from the heat at noon. I reply that I find it too cold (it almost put me off going for a swim), but others will appreciate it. At 10:30 PM, I go out to better secure my bike to a roof drain in the courtyard. It’s so nice out that I could’ve slept outside if I hadn’t found accommodation, and I go back to freeze in my room, which I couldn’t warm up through the only window facing the street with constant traffic—and I couldn’t leave it open while I was out.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-08

Day 10 – Saturday 04/06/11 Bourgneuf-en-Retz 9:00 AM → Saint-Hilaire-de-Riez 3:00 PM – 59 km

I quickly realize it’s hot and slip into shorts, digging out the sunscreen. I could’ve saved a quarter-hour by picking the right outfit from the start. Vendée welcomes me with 24 °C in the morning and its network of bike circuits. But the right side of the road is in bad shape, and the signage disappears. I decide to head toward Boin via a better-paved road. Is Vendée still Brittany? The less steep tiled roofs confirm it’s not. In Boin, I should find 18 km of bike route, but with no signs, I take the direction of Noirmoutier. There are lots of cars from neighboring departments, from everywhere, even farther away. Already yesterday at the hotel, a man explained he’d given up on going to the island. Still, I’m riding on a billiard-table-smooth road at a cruising speed of 25 km/h. The wind is still from the east. In Beauvoir, few vehicles are heading toward the Passage du Gois (submersible) since the tide isn’t right. The closer we get to the island, the more the price of mussels and fries goes up. Now that I’m so close, I think about checking out the bridge, but with no distance signs and crossing the bike route, I give up and head toward Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie. The path is sandy but pleasant to ride. It winds under the pines with a series of small ups and downs. This feeling is shared by many cyclists, with lots of families.

But we still can’t see the ocean, and a bike sign pointing to Plage de la Braie (0.6 km) tempts me. A little detour of 1.2 km—no big deal. But the descent is sandy, so I prefer to climb back up via the car road, which is also covered in sand, making progress slow and risky when the front wheel twists. It delays me enough to arrive at Notre-Dame-des-Monts just before noon. No need for GPS to turn onto Rue de l’Atlantique. I skip the packed beachside bistro to enjoy an *océan* salad on the terrace of the boulevard of the same name. The owner invites me to move a bit farther inside to avoid the storm bugs gathering on my orange jersey. She even moves my things and, seeing my empty water bottle (I’d just emptied it into the hedge), fills it with fresh water. She puts down a yellow towel (their favorite color), where insects start accumulating.

I never get tired of this path, but progress is slow. Even though the air cools occasionally with short cloudy spells hinting at a storm, I decide to switch to a T-shirt. Since it’s my first time, I don’t know which pannier it’s in. I start emptying both and forget, when I find it, that I’d protected my mouse inside. Luckily, it falls into the pannier, not the sand. I decided to buy a laptop for traveling so I can look up bike-friendly routes and accommodations online. I went for the smallest size: a 10-inch screen (1 inch = 2.54 cm). I picked a 1.1 kg Compaq, but all brands sell the same thing (same processor, same hard drive, etc.). Cdiscount and RueDuCommerce were selling it for 200 € on supplier order. I chose the first virtual store. After 3 weeks, I receive a big package and worry about the weight. It’s a laser epilator (very useful for biking) and a full skincare set. With the Colissimo tracking number, I’d received a woman’s order who’d also had a wrong delivery. I call Cdiscount, telling them I want my PC before returning the beauty items. No way—I accepted the terms when ordering! I hesitate to keep the items, which total 300 €, but neither my wife nor my daughter wants skin cancer. The return label Cdiscount sent me is just a return number, and I have to pay 12 € in shipping. They take several days to send me a 24 € credit for a future order. I think it’s a goodwill gesture, but I actually get another voucher for the full amount of my order, minus the 10 € shipping. They gave me a 2 € gift, and I still don’t have a computer, even though it’s available for 195 € on their site! Since I’m kind of forced to order, I pick an HP for 250 € with better battery life but weighing 1.3 kg. HP refunds 50 € if you buy an accessory at the same time. For example, a 15 € wireless mouse, which will be handy since the touchpad is tough for a fifty-something like me to master.

In Saint-Jean-de-Monts, on the seafront, a gorgeous surface is shared between cyclists and pedestrians over a wide area. The vast sandy beach is packed—no photo could capture it all except Yahn’s. Thanks to the sound system, I realize it’s a gathering of 5,000 young soccer players. Even *Le Monde* covered the event.

I plan to ask the Saint-Gilles-Croix-de-Vie tourist office for lodging, as it might be tough. But I try my luck in Saint-Hilaire-de-Riez. The Hôtel Frédéric, despite its shabby facade, is a 3-star. I ask if the 68 € room is still available. They offer to lower the price of a larger room to 80 €. I say I’ll think about it and head to the tourist office, which also doesn’t know real-time availability. Since I’m alone at the hotel, the *large* 50 € room is left to me for 42 €. It’s kept the 1970s style, with almost-original wallpaper. There’s even a bidet in the bathroom—a relic of past generations. The backyard, where I’m allowed to store my bike, is a dump. The only modern thing, besides the flat-screen TV, is a shop display in the lobby showing beach towels and toiletries. I have a balcony overlooking the beach, but the beauty of the landscape is hidden by poles and electrical wires.

Apart from a few tiny waves, a grandma getting out of the water, and a group of girls in short-sleeved and -legged wetsuits, people are just sunbathing. It’s much harder to get into the water than yesterday. Here, the *estran* (the part of the shore between high and low tide marks) is too narrow to warm the water, which I estimate at 13 °C. The news doesn’t mention it, even though millions of French people are on the coast. After 10 minutes of swimming, I walk back on the burning sand. Using my balcony, covered by the upper floor, I soap some clothes. But it faces north, so I’ll leave with damp laundry.

In the evening, a few drops fall. Locals say the storm turned to wind. But the forecast predicts rain all week. We can only hope for it, as many departments are already under water restrictions.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-08

Day 11, Sunday 05/06: Saint Hilaire de Riez to Longeville sur Mer – 70 km

As expected, the long-awaited rain finally arrived, but not in sufficient quantity since it only lasted a few hours. Still, it had the advantage of arriving gently, allowing the earth to absorb it. Vendée has made major improvements for cycling, but the trails are sometimes marked without direction signs, and since several bike routes intersect, I get lost.

I pass through St Gilles Croix de Vie, where I went to my first summer camp. I remember feeling a strange attraction toward the counselor.

I think I’ll easily find accommodation on this last day of the weekend, and I’m lucky to come across a digital information board when arriving in Jard sur Mer. But it shows that two hotels are located on Rue de l’Océan. I head toward the port, passing a first hotel that’s permanently closed, then a second one that’s fully booked, with no street name indicated. The receptionist advises me to go to the Chalet St Hubert in Saint Vincent sur Jard. Some pedestrians help me find the hotel-restaurant, but no one answers. I walk around the building. A room is being cleaned, which gives me hope it’ll be available. A machine is running in the laundry room, but there’s no one in sight. I wait while eating a few cookies. Suddenly, a cat comes out, and I hear a door or window closing. So there *is* someone, but still no response when I ring or knock. I decide to call the number painted on their catering van. A woman answers, telling me the hotel and restaurant are closed on Sundays. It would’ve been too simple to write that at the entrance! I continue toward La Tranche but suddenly change direction when I see a hotel sign in Longeville sur Mer. It’s exceptionally closed this Sunday (which is why it’s indicated). The tourist office is also closed, though it does display a list of accommodations, including homestays. I call a woman who just returned from the weekend. Her husband is parking the car in the garage. She gives me directions and just has time to finish preparing her daughter’s room. As the listing says: it’s a room in the house exactly as it was used (with furniture, knick-knacks, personal items) that’s made available. It’s actually this woman who asked the tourist office to post information. It seems tourist offices think you don’t need info when they’re closed—yet that’s precisely when it’s necessary. Some display city maps and hotel locations, but it’s quite rare. On this Sunday, I’m even stuck for dinner. Kindly, she calls the bakery to see if they can still make me a sandwich. A quick round trip, and I enjoy a sandwich, drink, and dessert in the garden. http://www.longevillesurmer.com/...rique=Craipeau-fiche

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-08

J12 Monday 06/06/11 Longeville-sur-Mer 8:30 AM Ronce-les-Bains 6:30 PM 131 km

After packing my panniers, I show up at 8:00 AM as planned for breakfast.

I wonder why the traditional orange juice is always served ice-cold. It might be necessary to keep it in the fridge if the container’s been opened, but even when I break the tamper-evident seal, the carton is freezing. It’s because the juice is more refreshing and thirst-quenching when it’s cold! So why do we (in most cases) insist on having a hot drink to wake up and warm the body every morning?

With my route sheet to Rochefort tucked into the back pocket of my jersey—all the turn-by-turn directions copied early this morning from the ViaMichelin site—I tackle this very long stage without rain.

The coast is so jagged that it juts out into the sea to varying degrees. To follow the shortest route, I have to head east, where I run into a headwind. Even though the forecast still called for a northerly wind, I feel it coming from the east. It’s my own estimate based on the sun, which I can just make out like a moon through the clouds. I pass signs for guesthouses—we’re in the Poitevin Marshes. After just 1 hour and 18 km, I push my bike up a hill. Need to save my strength. At 10:30 AM and 30 km in, a light rain starts to fall. It’s no big deal (as the ad says), but I’ll end up soaked and start looking for a bus shelter. Under some trees, the far left edge of the road is dry. I stop there to check the map again. But the rain has stopped. Good thing I didn’t gear up.

Despite all the notes on my scrap of paper, I miss the turn for the D10a. Maybe out of reflex to avoid what looks like a highway.

It must be because it falls right at a page change on my road maps, and near the spirals, some names are hard to piece together. A little further on, I take the D10, which runs alongside the Clain Canal.

I end up back on the D10a, but at the yield sign, there’s no indication except for the bike path that runs alongside it for a while—nothing that looks promising. I call on a friend: my keychain compass.

There’s heavy traffic on the D10a, with Dutch, Belgian, and English drivers, as well as trucks. It narrows and becomes the D9 as it crosses the Sèvre Niortaise. I’ve just left Vendée for Charente-Maritime and Pays de la Loire for Poitou-Charentes.

By noon, I’ve almost hit the halfway mark of my goal, with 57 km in 3.5 hours. At Andilly, the bar-tabac-press doesn’t make sandwiches. At the COOP, I buy some tabbouleh, a slice of ham, a tomato, and a beer. I manage to eat on a bench without rain, but I can’t finish my beer, so I pour it into my water bottle, which I couldn’t refill. The result isn’t great at all, but I’m sure it’ll be more thirst-quenching than water, which always stops quenching my thirst by the afternoon, especially when it’s no longer cool. The restart is tough, and I’m sluggish. After 25 km of winding roads on the D112, the 20 km straight stretch of the D5 to Rochefort feels long. Coluche once said: "Cycling is tough—what an idiot you have to be to do it as a sport!" Luckily, two arched stone bridges that pass overhead echo the songs keeping me company. I stop for a moment to enjoy it, despite the passing cars.

A bakery doubles as a tea room before entering Rochefort. I hesitate in front of the pastries and go for a whole-grain chocolate-cranberry bread to go with my tea. The glass cup is way too small, so I ask for a refill. After rinsing and refilling my water bottle in the restroom, I’m ready to get back on the road after charging up the GPS. It’ll have enough battery to guide me to the finish (which wouldn’t have been the case for a full day).

It helps me cross Rochefort without having to think. I’m surprised to have to tackle the climb up the bridge over the Charente. I hadn’t looked at the route. The bridge is tall, and the river is narrow but surrounded by marshes. It turns into a highway, and a mandatory bike path runs alongside it for a few meters. As usual, the path doesn’t let me access the roundabout where the GPS lady tells me to take the second exit (go straight), and I end up taking the first exit (turn right). Instantly, the GPS recalculates a new route and tells me in 200 m to turn left. After riding a bit in this new direction, I think it’ll take me back to the D733. But following these directions, I go around the block twice (the second time to make sure I didn’t miss anything). I could’ve kept going like that all night, so I backtrack to the left turn where it finds the right route—which unfortunately sends me onto the highway. It’s not off-limits to bikes, but a car honks at me, and I ride to the right of the dashed line bordering the road. This goes on for a few kilometers, and I start to worry if my GPS is even in bike mode. Nothing changes, and I have to ride 5 km before switching to the D123, where cars are just as fast, and the shoulder is even more degraded. I have to ride on rough asphalt with gravel and other debris thrown up by the flow of vehicles. Since I’m getting jostled around, I slow down to 15 km/h, whereas when I use my mirror to move onto the smooth road, I cruise at 25 (with a northeast wind). If this is what cycling trips are like, I would’ve stopped a long time ago. The ordeal lasts another 12 km. It must be because the only alternatives are tiny roads through the marshes and then the oyster parks. Finally, in Marennes, the D728 has a bike path for La Tremblade. Now I have to cross the Seudre viaduct. What a day!

It’s only at 6:30 PM sharp, after 131 km, that the GPS says the magic words: "You’re close to your destination." Just as I spot my dad, whom I’d called 20 km earlier to say I’d arrive at 6:30 PM.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-08

Day 13 Tuesday 07/06/11 Ronces-les-Bains 0 km The AZUREVA reception is open all day. I’m given the key to a room at the very end of the holiday center, which is hard to assign to retirees who currently make up the majority of the clientele.

It’s a 3-star residence. The accommodations are recent, spacious, and very comfortable. The park is well-maintained and full of flowers. With full board, it’ll cost me 70 € per day.

It rained last night, and the temperature dropped. I appreciate that the heating is still on in my bathroom. This morning, a few raindrops are still falling, and I’m the only one in the outdoor heated pool at 26°C. After a few laps alternating breaststroke, crawl, and backstroke, my ears hurt from keeping my head above water. Diane de Poitiers suffered chronically from ear problems because she bathed in moat water to fight a skin disease. Her status as the official mistress of a King of France didn’t give her access to hot water. More than 10 years older than her lover, she wanted to stop the effects of time. Thinking that gold, an unalterable metal, could give her eternal life, she consumed it. This had no consequences as long as charlatans just ran water over gold leaves. But when one too honest added real gold to her potions, she slowly poisoned herself, weakening her bones. After falling off a horse, she suffered a fracture that Ambroise Paré treated. She later died with her kidneys blocked by the golden poison. It was through the analysis of her bones, resting in a tomb next to Henri II’s, that the cause of her death was understood. We too can make *Bones*-style deductions.

I also consume gold every day. A homeopath (the only doctor who’s managed to improve my health) prescribed me OLIGOSOL Copper, Gold, Silver: 2 ml under the tongue on an empty stomach. Over many years, I’ve noticed that this immune system stimulant helps me avoid pharyngitis, which replaced tonsillitis after my tonsils were removed at age 12. If I stop the treatment within a month, my throat hurts. Of course, I buy the product at the pharmacy without a prescription since I almost never see a doctor. In any case, it’s no longer reimbursed, considered either a comfort medication or ineffective. Yet I’m living proof of its effectiveness. You might say it doesn’t change anything for me. Well, it does! Since it’s no longer reimbursed, its price has tripled.

I don’t see doctors because in 30 years of work, I’ve only been off sick once, laid low by tonsillitis. In my entire working life, that’s the only time I told my boss I couldn’t come in and asked my wife to call a doctor to my bedside.

I only understood a few weeks later, when I discovered I had a tapeworm, that the parasite gobbling up my food was also depriving me of the precious trace elements my body needed.

What industrial agriculture ignores—by stuffing the soil with nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium—is that it leaves plants deficient, forcing them to undergo horrific phytosanitary treatments to fight parasites and diseases.

So I continue to poison myself with 1 mg of Cu, 0.1 mg of Ag, and 0.002 mg of Au per day.

In the afternoon, we visit the Gardens of the World in Royan. Ten years ago, my father took beautiful photos there. This year, with the drought and obvious lack of maintenance, there are only bare slopes and a few sad flowers. In the greenhouse, 3 or 4 butterflies flutter about. Even the Zen garden, which is just mineral, is run-down. Only the Mediterranean landscape, with its thousand-year-old olive tree, has kept its charm. For 9.50 € (8.50 € with my AZUREVA keychain), it’s a scam.

At a CARREFOUR Market, I buy a VGA cable to show my travel photos to my parents. My PC’s N455 processor doesn’t support high definition, so it doesn’t have an HDMI output. I hesitated to buy a VGA cable to connect it to hotel room screens. I would’ve preferred 3 or 5 meters for the necessary distance, but this type of connection is heavy due to the plugs. I can’t use the screws to secure it because my laptop doesn’t have threading to hold them. Plus, it only transmits video. You end up with a big image and the sound coming from the PC’s tiny speakers. All this made me give up on buying one.

There’s only a 1.80 m cable, which I buy for 9.30 €. Luckily, before leaving, I realize it’s just a male/female extension, but I need two male VGA plugs. I get a refund. No more options at Super U either.

So I invite my parents (84 and 83 years old) to my room to look at the photos on my 10-inch screen, all three of us sitting on the two available chairs.

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-09

Day 14 Wednesday 06/08/11 Ronces-les-Bains 0 km Visit to the Begonia Conservatory: http://www.begonia.rochefort.fr/default.htm and the Royal Rope Factory in Rochefort: http://www.corderie-royale.com/

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Facteur4 Regular ·2011-06-09

Day 15 Thursday 09/06/11 08:30 Ronces les Bains – Hourtin plage 18:30 102 km

I decide to head to Royan along the coast (36 km). Thanks to my 3G key, I know there’s a ferry to Soulac at 08:55, 10:25, and 11:55, so I’ve got time to enjoy the scenery before taking the last one. After 4 km, I find a bike path through the woods with a rougher surface than the road. It improves after the Spanish Point. It’s humid, and frogs are having a "choir practice" in a pond below. I make a quick stop at La Palmyre to withdraw some cash. Then the road and the path run parallel, but a sign warns: localized difficulties on the bike path. A series of 10 bumps follow one after another. "Dune one, dune two, dune three…" Sometimes the momentum from the previous one helps me climb the next without effort. Other times, I have to stand up on the pedals to finish.

I arrive in Royan at 11:05 after 38 km and see a ferry leaving. I immediately think there won’t be another one at noon given the schedule this time of year. I’d look pretty silly if my son gets bad grades on his exams while I missed my ferry. At the dock, I realize I read the schedule backward. The next ferry to Soulac is at 12:30. That leaves me almost an hour and a half. Having seen enough marinas, I don’t follow the sign pointing to one. I head toward the residential areas. I loop through administrative and residential neighborhoods without spotting any shops. Just past the marina sign, there’s a downtown marker and even a tourist office… I struggle to find it even after asking passersby. Since I didn’t bring any maps for the end of my trip (feeling almost home), I ask if they have the Gironde cycling paths guide (neighboring department). I’m worried the Soulac tourist office might be closed when I arrive. Before leaving empty-handed, I point out that the ferry schedule would be clearer if it said "departing from Royan" or "departing from Le Verdon" instead of just "departure Royan, Le Verdon."

All this doesn’t leave me enough time to enjoy my steak with fried eggs. I have to leave behind some perfectly crispy fries and wilted salad. At the ticket counter, I pay 4.80 € for the crossing, including 1.60 € for the bike. The employee confirms that 50% of people get it wrong! I’ll have to write to the Gironde General Council, which manages this public service. It’s much cheaper than building a bridge. Despite the Pointe de Grave narrowing the estuary by half, the crossing is still 6 km, and the Loire seems small compared to the Gironde.

I’ve barely secured my bike when the engines shake the ship. Many passengers are on deck admiring the view. I offer to take a photo of a couple posing in front of the waves. On board, there are restrooms, a comfortable lounge, and a buffet. I now know where the Cordouan Lighthouse is—celebrating its 400th anniversary—far out in the estuary. You have to take a boat to see it. For this anniversary, more boats are taking tourists out to admire it.

I finally get to explore the Pointe de Grave, which I’d tried to reach from the Arcachon Basin without success on a round trip from my base camp (see page 3, 11/09/10). I linger a bit to wait for the Soulac-sur-Mer tourist office to open. The Gironde welcomes me with a brand-new bike path at km 0 of the little train railway: http://www.sudouest.fr/...ogue-385458-2192.php Also parallel is the Camino de Santiago for English travelers fresh off the boat. But no bike path maps in Soulac—the hostess gives me a local route brochure. No luck in Montalivet-les-Bains either, where I learn Gironde hasn’t reprinted the precious document: http://www.cg33.fr/...pistes_cyclables.pdf It’s disappointing that a cyclist arriving in Gironde can’t be tempted to explore its amazing cycling network due to a lack of a reassuring guide. If needed, charging 1 or 2 euros for this small document could be the solution. Does the General Council realize the tourist impact? Others do it—like Brittany with its much richer canal guide, and no ads.

I pass a school group biking. Another class is trying out sand yachting. I think I’m lost because the bike path doesn’t follow the coast and cuts through other paths in the woods. I make it to Hourtin plage in light rain. Having been to its beach before, I’m worried there’s no hotel in Hourtin, and there are still 10 km to the town. After 102 km, I don’t have much energy left. Someone confirms that only the 5-star campsite I passed has hotel rooms. Luckily, the rooms are only 2-star rated for 55 € (72 € starting July 1st, with a bar playing music until 12:30 AM). I can store my bike in the room where they keep rental bikes for tourists, mostly foreigners. It’s impossible to leave the light on when leaving the room. The coded keycard is needed to power the lights. After paying an extra 5 € for Wi-Fi, I download the photos from the previous days. I’d given up at AZUREVA, where the free Wi-Fi was capped at 512 KB.

I’ll need three more days to get home, but I won’t recount that part—it’s already described in previous trips.

Friday 10/06 Hourtin 08:45 – Arès 14:00 68 km A nice downpour greets me in Arès—I hide under my poncho. Then, 200 m later, I spot a bus shelter and take refuge there for the next one.

Saturday 11/06 Arès 09:00 – Casteljaloux 21:00 140 km During this Pentecost weekend, I thought I’d end up sleeping on the street—everything was fully booked.

Sunday 12/06 Casteljaloux 09:00 – Valence d’Agen 79 km

Total: 1,311 km and still no flat tires…

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CA CanardFuté ·2011-07-14

Hi,

First off, thanks for all the super detailed info on the different sections of the canal—I’m prepping for the crossing from the Atlantic coast to the Mediterranean and really appreciate it!

I’m planning to head out this summer and bring a tent to camp near the canal, so I’m looking for anyone with experience to share their thoughts on wild camping options close to the direct route...

Do you think it’s doable, or is it necessary to stick to gîtes or hotels?

Thanks in advance!

Quack.

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Muriel18 10 hours ago

Southern landscapes, northern wildlife: returning to South Africa

After a first trip in 2009 (already!) where, roughly, we did a circuit passing through Hazyview, a private reserve in Sabi Sands, Santa Lucia and Isimangaliso, Hluhluwe and the South African part of Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park, then a quick stop in 2013 to go to Lesotho, we wanted to come back to this country.

Why not the Cape region this time, but there was no way we were coming back to this part of the world without going on a safari. Mountain Zebra or the Karoo seem more about landscapes than animals, and Addo doesn’t excite me much either... So it’ll be Kruger.

Flight prices, schedules, and durations led us to a Paris-Cape Town, return Johannesburg-Paris with British Airways, via Heathrow.

Now we just had to figure out how to fit in quite a few things without driving too many kilometers or changing accommodation every day, at least in the Cape region. Here’s what we ended up with:

Arrival in Cape Town on Saturday, October 10 at 11 AM

2 nights in Hermanus

1 night in Franschhoek

2 nights at Mountceder in the Cederberg

3 nights in Hout Bay

Sunday: transition day—flight to Johannesburg, drive toward Kruger, night in Lydenburg.

Kruger: 1 night in Letaba, 2 in Satara, 1 in Lower Sabie.

Last night in Mbombela (formerly Nelspruit) before heading back to the airport for an early evening return flight.

For those who want to read the full story without interruptions, it’s here.

Friday, 10/9

A pretty stressful departure.

First, I woke up in the middle of the night, convinced I’d swapped my first and last names during check-in 🤪... Couldn’t get back to sleep, even though I knew British Airways wouldn’t answer before 9 AM.

Well, for them, everything was fine... but then they started talking about ETA... an ETA for England 😮? ?? Yes, it’s recent. Apparently, you don’t need one for an air-to-air transit... but you never know, it’s better to have it just in case. No one could give me a clear answer that it wasn’t necessary. In the end, we didn’t get it... and we didn’t need it.

But here’s the thing: our flight ended up leaving Paris 45 minutes late (10 minutes due to a schedule change and 35 minutes of actual delay), so our 2-hour layover shrank to 1 hour and 15 minutes. That should be doable, right? The board showed our flight at Gate B: great, it’s right next door! But at Gate B, three employees were just there to tell everyone who showed up that security had to be done at Gate A... and off we went, sprinting through the corridors, endless escalators going up and down, a little shuttle ride, security at Gate A ("You’re going to be cutting it close!" Oh really? 😠), then pretty much the same route back, only to end up just a few dozen meters from where we started! 😠

Boarding was already well underway, and after all that running, we were hot and thirsty, but phew! We made it onto the plane!

Saturday, 10/10 On the other hand, nothing to complain about on this London-Cape Town flight—it arrived early!

I booked a (small) Suzuki S-Presso because it seemed to have a higher ground clearance than its competitors. Unfortunately, we ended up with a Tata Tiago (yes, it exists), which is lower (and also smaller, with an even more sluggish engine... yes, we were able to compare because in Johannesburg, we *did* get an S-Presso). Somehow, we managed to fit everything in the trunk ("Whatever you do, don’t leave anything visible!") and off we went to our first accommodation in Hermanus, under a glorious sun.

Nikki welcomed us warmly, explained what there was to see in the area, and advised us to book a restaurant for that evening.

After dropping off our bags, we headed to the "cliff path," just 3 minutes from our place. This part of the coast is famous for its southern right whales from June to November. Let’s cut to the chase: there *were* whales, but they were very far away and very sleepy 😕. At best, we saw (photos taken at 600mm): A few ripples or a faint spray,

a bit of tail...

...or a bit of head.

Too bad—the owner of our next accommodation told us she’d seen around thirty of them up close here in early September.

With no whales in sight, the dassies (or rock hyraxes) were everywhere... and fun to watch.

The other local star (when there are no whales 😏)

Open

Nathalie971 10 hours ago · Holigirl

Japan, five weeks between unknown lands and familiar paths

Hello everyone,

I invite you to follow me on this fifth exploration trip to Japan.

Five weeks or so!

For the itinerary, my usual mix: New discoveries, well-known places, and others less so.

At the heart of the trip, a two-week road trip by car. I wavered for a long time between the San'in region, from Tottori to Yamaguchi, and southern Kyushu. By a narrow margin, southern Kyushu won out.

Waterfalls that seem even more impressive. A more exotic atmosphere. Tea-growing lands to savor... Kagoshima will be the starting point. Then a loop from west to east.

And, of course, the must-see stops... Those little Japanese touches. Gourmet cuisine. Japanese, but not only!

And then, the soul of the trip, I hope: Human connections. Big or small.

Otherwise? Several local festivals. Osaka, unexpected. Miyakojima, between beauty and small disappointments. Tokyo... it's Tokyo!

So, travel with me. The suitcase is waiting, with stories that are sometimes generous, but always driven by the love of travel experienced firsthand.

Yōkoso, Nihon! Welcome to Japan!

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Kate yesterday · Holigirl

Morocco: Four Medinas for One Enchantment

Hello everyone! 🙂

No wonder Tangier has inspired so many artists, writers, painters, and musicians… The "Pearl of the North" will be the first stop on a 12-day journey that will take us through Rabat, Fez, and Meknes.

This is my 15th trip to Morocco, and I’d never been to Tangier before! A round-trip flight from Carcassonne for just 55 € sealed the deal, and here we are, landing two hours later.

Four medinas, four perspectives—an enchantment that remains untouched. Once again, Richard and I will combine our viewpoints in a travel journal, sharing them with you—his through words, mine through images.

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Bibouns51 yesterday · Holigirl

Off on an adventure in China!

October 9 - Day 1

There’s an old Chinese proverb I particularly like: "Dú wán juán shù, búrú xing wán li lú." In slightly more familiar terms, it means you always learn more by traveling ten thousand miles than by reading ten thousand books. And I’m the perfect guy for this because, first, I don’t have time to read ten thousand books about our new destination... And second, the proverb is literally made in our new adventure playground: China!

China... or should I say, "Paradox-land"! A country we see everywhere—on the news or on the "Made in China" labels of half the objects around us—but one we actually know very little about. A country hurtling toward the future while still casually chatting with its rich past. A country that, through our Western lens, seems uniform and just filled with Chinese people who all look alike, yet reveals an incredible cultural, natural, demographic, and culinary diversity as soon as you dig a little deeper. A country with a reputation for being logistically tricky for solo travelers, yet where you can book public toilets on your smartphone. In short, a delightful mess of disorienting contradictions—and, of course, a destination that was bound to charm our wandering soles for a while.

That "while" will be two weeks... And the "we," since I wanted the best in the world to join me, will be Flo and me in this backpacking duo stamped with wanderlust! Just the two of us for two weeks to explore a tiny part of this continent-sized country, trying to understand how old wooden stilt houses coexist in the middle of futuristic skyscrapers glowing with lights, tasting all the weird and wonderful things that come our way, and—incidentally—covering the famous ten thousand kilometers from our proverb.

Well... we’ll probably cover a little less than that, but enough to let us write our own travel journal instead of reading others’... Because you know us—between living our lives watching others live theirs by reading ten thousand books, or writing our own by truly roaming the world, we’ve long since chosen our side! And you, who’s reading this—team book or team live?

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Montagnard74 yesterday · RichardXI

CAPE VERDE 2025: 3 weeks, 4 islands.

And we still haven’t seen everything! Before setting off for new horizons at the end of this year, it’s time for me to share my trip to Cape Verde this summer 2025.

I particularly love these spontaneous trips, and our stay in Cape Verde is one of those because it was only at the beginning of April that we decided on this getaway, which had been catching our eye for a while, given our love for the mountains.

As always—well, when it’s open—I turned to VF, and I want to immediately thank Marie, aka ptitortue, who helped me a lot in planning this trip through her travel journals and our exchanges!

Because Cape Verde is both small and vast! We decided not to rush from one airport to another, to enjoy the places and the people, but also to relax, since the work backlog from being stuck in May (see my previous travel journal 😅) had to be caught up on in June.

So, 4 islands will be our winners from 06/28 to 07/19:

Santiago first for logistical reasons, as round-trip flights from the capital Praia were the cheapest (650 €/person from Lyon via Lisbon with TAP, still!)

São Vicente, because it’s the gateway to the next one but ultimately more than that...

Santo Antão, pretty much the main goal of the trip since Marie (and the photos) had really sold it to me.

And finally, Sal Island, for some rest—a non-negotiable condition for my other half—and we’ll see that I should’ve listened to Marie...

That said, what a chatterbox I am—buckle up, flight attendants at the doors, off we go on new beautiful escapes! (Thanks to Sophie for the easy loan)

Last note for my eager fan club 😏: yes, there will be alcohol—how could there not be in the land of grogue!

It starts here:

https://voyageforum.com/v.f?post=10790234;a=10790234

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Bibouns51 yesterday · Djalma

Off on an adventure in Réunion!

Week 1 - July 2026

Traveling with just one spare pair of underwear, considering a hot shower a miracle, never staying in the same place too long by sleeping wherever night catches us, taking whatever local, improbable, and rickety transport we can find—this is the DNA of us wanderers. Except this time, the script for our movie is going to be a whole different genre. On paper, the destination doesn’t exactly scream epic adventure: Réunion! And what’s more... we won’t be two, or four, or even ten. We’ll be a solid thirty. All from the same family. Yes, thirty. At this point, it’s not just a trip—it’s a summer camp on the move! Why inflict this on such a peaceful island? Because my brother decided to get married there with his lovely bride. A great idea, you might say... especially when it involves relocating the equivalent of a small Ardennes village 10,000 kilometers from home for three weeks! So who’s stepping up to be the guide and wave the little flag?

So, for an exceptional trip, exceptional stories! Don’t worry, the debates at the supermarket over whether to choose plain chips or roast chicken chips, the beach picnics washed down with ti’ punch, and other rougail sausages to digest by the pool will only make it into the family archives. Here, I’ll stick to the tales of our beautiful escapes, the ones where we explore the wild corners of this little volcanic rock planted in the middle of the Indian Ocean. So where exactly are we headed?

For the first week—the subject of this first installment—we’re taking it easy. We’ll start by rediscovering the coastline, from the Souffleur in Saint-Leu to the Hermitage lagoon, before a little trip to the Cirque de Cilaos and its legendary road with 400 turns, just to get our legs warmed up.

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Attila 3 days ago · Kate

Northern Morocco, the kingdom of kif?

My first trip to Morocco dates back to the early 90s.

Four more followed...

I’d never gone further north than Casablanca, Volubilis, or Fez—it was time to fix that!

So I planned a route that would fill in the gaps while revisiting a few places.

This route is pretty classic—if you’re looking for something original, you might want to skip it!

The starting point of the trip: the city of Rabat.

The stops?

Azrou, Fez, Al Hoceïma, Akchour, Tetouan, Tangier, Asilah, and finally Rabat.

Mostly an urban trip, then.

Too much?

We’ll see at the end of the travel journal!

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Ellobo 3 days ago

A little trip to Belgium

Introduction: As has become a habit, I’ve organized a trip for late October—a surprise trip for my poor wife, who follows along without saying much (or almost nothing). She knows she’s going away, when, but not where! Our friends and family keep bombarding me with questions to get the info, but I’m holding strong. The guesses are flying, the best one being, “Knowing him, he’s definitely heading somewhere sunny, even if all the southern destinations have already been done for a short stay.” It makes me laugh because there are still a few places I haven’t discovered yet. So yes, choosing to go to Belgium at the end of October—especially for someone as sensitive to the cold as I am—is bold. I’m not quite at Philippe Abrams’ level, but still, heading *Noooorth* from me is pretty daring. So, contrary to my friends’ predictions, I’m not flying south but taking my car, turning the wheel north, and off we go!

Day 1: The outbound trip When I say I’m not flying, it’s only half true because we’re leaving the day French media—with their signature doom-and-gloom—announce a terrible storm. While Storm Austen is indeed forecasted, the Belgians are reporting it as the first storm of the year with a bit more restraint. The drive won’t be entirely smooth as we reach the Hauts-de-France region: the wind is strong, the rain is heavy, but it’s not the apocalypse. Just drive carefully and slow down—sounds like a road safety message! We left Lyon at 8 AM and arrived in Bruges at 4 PM, “...and that’s even with the trucks at the entrance to Angoulême!” What’s he talking about—going through Angoulême? French cinephiles will get the reference. We got a warm welcome at our B&B, and since it was barely drizzling, we took a quick stroll around town to stretch our legs. Headed to the Markt, visited the Prinsenhof, the Palace of the Dukes of Flanders. We actually went in because it started pouring. It’s free, a first taste of Flemish culture, and it’s great.

A little tired, we headed back to our B&B, mostly because the heavy rain forced us to. We got soaked (some people must be laughing). After drying off, we went to the nearest restaurant, Parazzar, typically Bruges-style, and my wife tried her first beer. Personally, I don’t like beer—*What the heck was I thinking?*—so I had a red wine, a Tinto, which would’ve been local back in Charles V’s time. First fries—because I *love* them—and it’s time to call it a night. A good night’s sleep awaits.

The +: We made it! The -: It’s raining, it’s windy, it’s wet—party at the...

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Viovio2 3 days ago

15-day itinerary in southern Morocco

Last October, we landed in Marrakech to spend a few days with family exploring Morocco’s roads. Transport: a rented Dacia. Accommodations: small guesthouses.

Our first stop was just a few kilometers from Marrakech, at a lovely house perfect for relaxing and recharging before continuing. It’s called Bleu House, a little paradise on the outskirts of Marrakech. The welcome was very warm, with a beautiful pool and a lovely garden.

Next, we headed toward the Tichka Pass. The road has really improved in recent years—it’s much easier to drive now. No more getting stuck behind trucks, and today, the construction is practically finished.

Morocco has turned green after the recent rains. It’s a joy for the herds and shepherds.

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Bluequark 3 days ago

Summer 2026 - 3 weeks in the Azores

I love islands...

I love islands. So it’s no surprise that the Azores have been catching my eye for a few years now. The first time I suggested them to my dear partner back in 2021, he preferred the Lofoten Islands—an excellent choice, as it turned out, since we got to visit with hardly any crowds. But for various reasons, the opportunity didn’t come up again in the following years. Until last year, that is. But by then, we’d left it too late—too late for the Azores, I mean—and the accommodation options on Flores and São Jorge were extremely limited. We decided to skip it without even looking at car rentals. So this year, we booked our flights, lodging, and cars *way* in advance (between December of last year and early this year).

The Azores consist of nine islands, so you have to make choices. I quickly ruled out São Miguel, which deserves a week all to itself: from what I’d read on various blogs, some travelers seemed disappointed after visiting the other islands, even feeling it lacked the Azores’ unique charm. True or not, that was reason enough to skip it.

In the end, we wanted to go to Flores for its lush nature (and because it’s reputed to be the most breathtaking), São Jorge for its rural/nature vibe, and Terceira for its cultural side and *impérios* (more on that later). With the time we had, we could add another island without rushing. We like to take our time and wander a bit—whether it’s a viewpoint or a hike, we always spend longer than *everyone* else. Pico won out over Faial thanks to its wine culture. And of course, there’s Corvo, which is usually visited as a day trip from Flores. I thought it’d be nice to spend the night there to experience the atmosphere once most tourists had left. I hesitated between one or two nights but ultimately went with two (so we wouldn’t be rushed by the boat schedule). It was an excellent decision.

Here’s how it all panned out:

August 25: departure for Terceira via Lisbon at 7:40 AM; August 25–29: Terceira; August 29: flight to Corvo. It was supposed to take half a day, and we were meant to arrive in the early afternoon, but between schedule changes and delays, it ended up taking almost the whole day; August 29–31: Corvo; August 31: boat to Flores around 8:30 AM; August 31–September 5: Flores; September 5: flight to Faial in the early afternoon (originally scheduled for the morning, but the times changed)—visit to Horta; September 6: boat to São Jorge around 9:00 AM; September 6–11: São Jorge; September 11: boat to Pico at 11:15 AM; September 11–16: Pico; September 16: flight to Paris via Lisbon from Pico around 10:30 AM.

We had to juggle a bit to optimize the prices of our flight tickets from Paris and the inter-island travel.

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VP44 5 days ago

A Few Days in Turkmenistan from Uzbekistan

The latest travel journal about Turkmenistan dates back to 2019. Here’s a quick update on this vast desert country, which is now a bit easier to visit than before.

This is my first travel journal. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. The country is slowly opening up, but it’s still possible to visit sites where you’ll be completely alone. In five days, I saw two Hongkongers, a few Germans, and a Chilean at the crater, ten Chinese people in a capital bazaar, and that’s it!

It’s possible to visit Turkmenistan from Uzbekistan. The easiest and most economical way is to take a taxi to the border from Bukhara. The trip takes a little over an hour.

Crossing the border takes quite a while because many Turkmen bring back items bought in Uzbekistan to resell in Turkmenistan. For example, diapers, baby products, or beauty products. It took me over 2.5 hours to cross the border. To visit Turkmenistan, it’s mandatory to have a guide and go through a travel agency. British agencies often offer three-, five-, or seven-day trips for over 1,500 or 2,000 €. But if your budget is more limited, you can contact a few Turkmen agencies directly by email, and they’ll make you an offer between 700 and 1,300 € for three to seven days. I took a five-day trip from Turkmenabat in the northeast of the country to Dashoguz in the north. The goal was to visit the main UNESCO-listed sites, including Merv, and archaeological sites like Nisa or Gonur Tepe.

Your guide will also be your driver. They’ll pick you up at the border. The formalities are very long because customs officers have to stamp multiple documents, and obtaining the visa you previously requested from your travel agency requires several checks. But the process goes relatively smoothly, even if each step takes a while.

Once on the other side, the first surprise is the brand-new highway all the way to Turkmenabat. A very long line of trucks stretches for several kilometers on the Turkmen side to cross the border into Uzbekistan. According to my guide, Turkmen trucks transport gas and cotton (though not this season, since the harvest is in September), but they mainly fill up their tanks because fuel is much cheaper in Turkmenistan. A full tank for a car costs about 3 €, which is unbeatable.

From the Farap border post, the goal is to reach the city of Mary, which is home to the UNESCO-listed site of Merv in its suburbs, about thirty kilometers away. This city is known as a foundation by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BC under the name Alexandria of Margiana. Several fortresses are visible.

After more than three hours on the road, we have lunch at a Turkish restaurant called Aladdin. Several quotes from the president are visible along the highway, but the road is in good condition, and we move along easily. This will be by far the best road in the country—things will get much worse later.

Roundabouts are particularly interesting because they feature emblems of Turkmen culture, like the dog, a carpet, the Ahal Teke horse, or Muslim symbols, even though the presence of Islamic artifacts is quite limited.

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Jojoone1 6 days ago · Dennis2

All Over Thailand

You can post your personal photos in the following thread: https://voyageforum.com/forum/quelque-part-en-thailande-d10655574/

This travel journal is therefore intended solely for my photos, to present a consistent style. All the shots were taken with a simple Samsung Galaxy smartphone and with whatever was at hand.

All stays combined, I’ve spent the equivalent of three years at most in Thailand, and I’m not a big expert on the country. However, after many trips, lots of reading on VoyageForum and other sites, and conversations with many locals as well as expats, my view of the country is becoming clearer, though it’s constantly evolving. You never stop discovering and learning.

I guess I wanted to piece together a puzzle, mainly for those who want to get an idea of the country here and for those who miss it. I don’t know if this minimalist sharing will interest anyone, but it’ll do me good to put it together. After so many months without traveling and then these other long months with VF closed, there’s plenty of material available.

There’ll be a mix of places, periods, and subjects, but it might well be intentional.

I suspect many Thais have dogs because they make excellent guards for the home. Nothing better to deter burglars or to signal the presence of a snake. You’ll often see Thais tapping the top of their dog’s head, but don’t be fooled: it’s a sign of affection from them. Judging by the dogs’ reactions, they’re used to it.

Thailand is one of the countries on the planet where rabies is still present, so keep that in mind. It’s not just bites that can be dangerous, so don’t let just any dog lick you. Especially on a wound, of course. Even though dogs often fear humans—this dangerous and unpredictable predator—we still need to stay cautious. Be careful when walking into alleys because the dog will defend its master’s big property, be careful at night, and be careful when they’re in packs. It sometimes crosses our minds that Thailand isn’t really made for walking around, and dogs are one of the reasons. That said, it’s not uncommon to see them chasing bikes or scooters. Cars, though, are much rarer—they’re too big.

It seems Thais prefer to give their dogs freedom by not locking them behind gates. Though sometimes the gate is closed, the little side door is wide open. Oh, and sometimes there’s no gate in front of the property, or it’s been broken for years.

You’ll often see dogs sleeping on the side of the road, sometimes right on the road. When you arrive, they move aside nonchalantly—or not at all. It’s less funny when they suddenly appear from thick vegetation, which reminds visitors not to drive too fast. As a result, you’ll notice that dogs with injuries or missing legs aren’t that rare.

Since they believe in reincarnation and respect for all forms of life, they don’t chase dog packs away too much, and they don’t sterilize them enough. Seeing a small pack roaming freely in the countryside, you might think it’s best not to cross paths with them at the edge of a field. A darker side of this is that euthanasia isn’t often practiced. Twice, we saw dogs at temples on the brink of death, enduring terrible suffering. No one did anything about it. The image (and the smell) of one of them, dying and emitting the stench of death, still comes back to me sometimes.

Some of you may have seen the YouTube vlog of a French woman living in Phuket who was given a little pig by her Thai friends. The well-fed animal quickly became a happy, enormous beast with its own garden. Yet, it didn’t take long for it to fall seriously ill and become incurable. In her video, the French woman described how difficult it was to find a vet willing to perform euthanasia.

You’ll often see bowls by the side of the road. Thais leave food and water in them for stray cats and dogs. Overall, they have a big heart for animals.

If you ever pop into a shopping mall, you might see people pushing their small dogs in strollers. It’s not a gimmick—it’s just that these strollers are provided for customers to put their pets in, otherwise you can’t bring them inside. It looks a bit odd when you expect to see a baby.

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GeorgesOZ last week · Ouonva

14 Days in Japan – September-October 2026

I had to leave Thailand as my 60-day visa was coming to an end, and this time I opted for a 14-day visit to Japan. I’d already spent 3 days in Tokyo a few years ago on a business trip, which left me with a great impression. Y, my Thai partner, had never been there. That’s why we chose a fairly classic itinerary, including a few castles and Kyoto among other things.

Before diving into the details of our trip, I’d like to recap the expenses we incurred. This will be useful for some of you, and it’ll help us prepare for our next trip to Japan.

I’ve categorized our expenses into 5 groups: - Hotels: 1150 € (breakfast included) - Transportation: 278 € (trains, buses) - Big expenses: 487 € (souvenirs and a few necessary items) - Excursions: 116 € (museum visits, temples, castles) - Daily expenses: 1125 € (meals, small purchases) Total = 3194 €, or 228 € per day on average. I’m excluding flights, as those depend on everyone’s arrangements (departure location, travel dates, etc.).

Jpeg below: apologies for “hotel” without a circumflex—my software isn’t French!

For hotels, we always chose decent but not luxurious places, well-located to let us walk to and from transportation hubs. We systematically avoided taxis, which are notoriously expensive in Japan. We’ve also gotten into the habit over several trips of traveling with minimal luggage: one duffel bag each (7-8 kg) plus the small carry-on allowed on planes (2-3 kg). This lets us travel with three sets of clothes (what we’re wearing plus two changes). We add a checked bag for the return trip to accommodate the things we buy along the way.

‘Transportation’ and ‘Big expenses’: I’ll give more details in the day-by-day account.

We didn’t do any extravagant excursions, like safaris or sports activities.

Meals and food make up the bulk of our daily expenses. We often ate at izakayas, which offer great value—between 2000 and 6000 yen for two (about 11-12 to 33-34 € for two, usually around 20-25 €). We didn’t hold back, but we also didn’t go to high-end restaurants.

More to come while I gather my photos: General Remarks.

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Patbill last week · Ouonva

A Slightly Less Touristy Japan

Hi everyone, I’m Patrick, 67 years old, a seasoned traveler (already 22 trips outside Europe). In autumn 2025, I took my first 3-week trip to Japan, with stops in Tokyo, Kamakura, Matsumoto, Kamikochi, Takayama, Kanazawa, Kyoto, Nara, Osaka, Koyasan, Tokyo again, and Nikko. I wanted to go back in May 2026 and explore some lesser-known places to complement my first trip. Last year, there were four of us traveling together to discover Japan (a fairly classic itinerary). This time, I’ll be traveling solo for part of the trip and with a couple of French friends for the rest. The weather was gorgeous in May, averaging around 25°C, with two very hot days in Kyoto and only two rainy days. As usual, I organized everything myself, gathering plenty of information from various sites, including this one.

Transportation: An ICOCA card is essential. I got a 5-day Kansai-Hiroshima pass because I took the shinkansen between Hiroshima and Osaka three times, and it paid for itself quickly.

Accommodations: Mostly through Booking. No issues at all. Average cost was 46 € per night.

Meals: For breakfast, I alternated between buying food at a konbini to eat in my room or on the train and grabbing something at local cafés. For lunch and dinner, I tried to vary my meals as much as possible—lots of sashimi, sushi, and ramen. Okonomiyaki in Osaka and Hiroshima. Oysters in every form (raw, grilled, fried) in Onomichi and Hiroshima. A variety of seafood (shrimp, shellfish) in Hiroshima and Matsumoto. Fish whose names often escaped me, but notably mackerel and eel (unagi). Tempura and gyoza. Chicken skewers (yakitori) and one teppanyaki meal. One omakase meal (9 different dishes). In the end, not much meat aside from a few yakitori skewers. No splurges on super expensive wagyu or Kobe beef. Average dinner cost: 4,800 yen, drinks included.

The Itinerary: Day 1: Departure from Brussels Day 2: Arrival in Osaka Day 3: To Himeji, then Kurashiki Day 4: To Fukuyama, then Tomo no Ura, then Onomichi Day 5: Cycling the Shimanami Kaido Day 6: To Takahara, then Hiroshima Day 7: To Kyoto to attend the Aoi Matsuri parade Day 8: To Miyajima Day 9: Hiroshima, then Kyoto Day 10: Southern Kyoto Day 11: Northern Kyoto Day 12: Final day in Kyoto, then to Nagatsugawa Day 13: Start of the Nakasendo Trail (Magome to Tsumago) Day 14: Second day of the trail (Kiso Fukushima) Day 15: Third day of the trail (Narai), then Matsumoto Day 16: To Mt. Fuji (Kawaguchiko) Day 17: To Tokyo Day 18: Excursion to Enoshima and Kamakura Day 19: Flight home, with a 10-hour layover in Hong Kong Day 20: Arrival in Brussels

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RIC73 last week · Mitch341

Great Divide Mountain Bike Route

Hello, Following our trip on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route this summer, we’re sharing our experience in this travel journal. We’re Richard and Bernadette, both 64 years old, and we’re gravel bike-packing cyclists. We’ve completed several gravel bike trips in France and neighboring countries, and Richard has also done some in South America. We left on July 22, 2026, from Geneva to Calgary via Frankfurt with our bikes carefully packed in boxes, and we returned on October 8 from El Paso to Geneva via Chicago and Frankfurt.

The GDMBR is a mountain route that closely follows the Pacific/Atlantic continental divide, starting in Banff, Canada, and ending at the Mexican border in Antelope Wells, New Mexico. This crossing of the American West is one of the longest mountain biking routes in the world, winding through wild valleys, mountain ranges, and desert plateaus. It stretches about 4,400 km with a total elevation gain of around 60,000 m. The average altitude is 2,000 m, and the highest point reaches 3,600 m. The route is 80% off-pavement (gravel roads, dirt, and a few trail segments). It’s also known for the annual Tour Divide race, which brings together the best riders in the discipline every June and follows roughly the same route.

We prepared for this trip over several months, using a few websites and an older guidebook (the 2013 English edition).

With this, we were able to organize our journey with as much information as possible, a GPS track, and gear suited to the weather conditions, terrain, and sparse resupply points in remote areas.

Once we arrived in Banff, we picked up bear spray to handle a particular challenge: the wildlife we weren’t familiar with.

After landing in Calgary, we assembled and equipped our bikes at the airport. That first evening, we were welcomed by Mike, who invited us to his place when we were looking for a spot to pitch our tent. Then we made our way to Banff over two days, taking a fairly quiet road to Canmore and then a bike path.

A visit to Banff, a charming tourist town in the national park. Its famous Fairmont Hotel.

The starting point of the GDMBR at the arch of this hotel complex.

Here we are, immersed in the wilderness—just a few pedal strokes away from the town, the contrast is striking. Powerful rivers, vast landscapes, and our first encounter with a mule deer.

Spray Lake, our first basic campsite: no showers, dry toilets, no water fountain—we filter lake water. Most GDMBR campsites are like this.

We took the west side of the lake—a longer and wilder route. A few fallen trees blocked the path, forcing us to carry our bikes. But the stunning landscapes made it all worth it!

Our first single track through a forest marked by past wildfires.

Most campgrounds have tables and metal fire rings for safe campfires, which makes setting up camp much easier—especially nice after a long, tiring day! During this trip, we mostly slept in our tent, either in established campgrounds or wild bivouacs.

To be continued...

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Pagaljavab last week · Ouonva

16 days with family in La Gomera (Canary Islands)

Preamble: Why La Gomera?

When we started looking for a summer destination a few months ago, our first criterion was to avoid extreme heat and heatwaves. We had already been to Norway two years ago and are considering going back in the future for other occasions. So, we had some fun asking ChatGPT which destinations enjoyed a mild climate during the summer without going too far. Among the list provided by the AI were the Canary Islands... The idea of a place we wouldn’t have thought of first, both not too far away and exotic enough, appealed to us: “Hmm, why not?”

This destination had never really attracted me, though Magali was a bit more interested. Five years earlier, COVID had caused a short break in my professional activity, and I had planned a trip because the flight price was attractive, and I was looking for a destination different from what usually appeals to me, more than out of deep interest. From a distance and with a social judgment I acknowledge (it’s not great, but it’s not completely wrong), I had the image of a destination for party-goers enjoying the sun without the slightest interest in local culture, with concrete coastlines and denatured landscapes—everything I detest the most. Still, I had done some quick research on the different islands and spotted Lanzarote for its beautiful volcanic landscapes, hiking trails, beaches, and the impression of a good balance between activity and fewer crowds than Tenerife or Gran Canaria. Then I dropped the idea of going, without ever reconsidering traveling to the Canaries...

Until now! Because we started researching the different islands of the archipelago to see which ones might appeal to us the most. It was La Gomera, the third smallest island of the archipelago, more praised for its hiking trails and preserved nature than for its beaches, away from mass tourism (fifty times fewer tourists than Tenerife) but still a bit more developed than its wild neighbor El Hierro, that caught our attention. Contrary to what might be suggested later, I’m not at all addicted to AI, but I use it from time to time to synthesize quick research or simply for experimentation. Since ChatGPT had started anticipating my tastes lately as if it had become my buddy (often successfully, sometimes off the mark), I asked which Canary Island would suit me best for a trip with my family. The tool answered first with... La Gomera. So, I tested it and teased it a bit to see if this suggestion was well-founded, as the method sometimes makes it contradict itself. But no luck: “You’d appreciate the wild nature of El Hierro, but with family, you’ll find little activity for the kids. You won’t like the touristy vibe of the big islands like Tenerife, Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, and Fuerteventura. You could consider La Palma, but it’s really La Gomera that will suit you best, based on your interests and the criteria given.” So, we dug deeper into our research and were convinced without a shadow of a doubt that this island was the one waiting for us.

Without knowing it, we had Canarians in our circle who revealed their origins when they heard about our travel plans. One from Tenerife insisted we’d be better off choosing Tenerife (obviously...) because it also has preserved spots and that La Gomera, “you can explore it in two or three days, you’ll get bored quickly...” The other, a colleague from Gran Canaria who had never visited La Gomera, still recommended it without hesitation because it turned out her parents had just gone there on vacation: they loved it and had encountered few tourists. She also tended to think this destination was usually the subject of short stays, but according to what her parents told her, taking your time there was also a great idea. However, in our research, the idea that La Gomera is an island you can explore in three or four days max kept coming up. So, we considered combining its visit with La Palma or El Hierro, the other two that caught our eye. But hopping between islands by ferry represents a significant budget for non-Canarians, even more so for a family of four. Then, scrutinizing Google Maps, it seemed obvious that two weeks were too short to discover two islands as they deserve, and that there seemed to be plenty to see in La Gomera, given its very unique culture. After all, we read that some people spend several months a year there, others never even leave... Finally, these landscapes and this atmosphere, which seemed to us a mix of Europe, North Africa, and Latin America, tempted us. So, it would be two weeks in La Gomera, deal!

La Gomera is therefore the second... well, the third smallest island of the Canaries since La Graciosa was recently recognized as a fully inhabited island. It has the shape of a rough circle about 20 to 25 kilometers in diameter and has just over 20,000 inhabitants, half of them in its capital, San Sebastián de la Gomera, the only real town. Like its Canarian sisters, La Gomera is a volcanic formation that rose about 10 million years ago. The island is very mountainous and rugged, covered with red and black rocky landscapes. Geological activity has shaped, between the sprawling massifs that end in steep cliffs in the ocean, six coastal valleys with tropical vegetation that have favored human settlement. They divide the island like slices of a cake; from the north clockwise: the agricultural Vallehermoso, the rustic Agulo, the green, humid, and fertile Hermigua, the sunny capital San Sebastián de la Gomera, the southern and isolated Alajeró-Santiago, and the seaside Valle Gran Rey. They constitute the six municipalities (more like cantons to our French understanding) of the territory.

The large solidified magma massifs that shape the heart of the island have created a large depression more protected from the sun at its center, allowing the growth of a vast laurel forest, today grouped within the Garajonay National Park, La Gomera’s green lung, which has earned it the status of a World Biosphere Reserve. Its completely European appearance contrasts sharply with the rocky and tropical landscapes of the rest of the island. Thus, the climate varies greatly from one point to another on the island: in summer, you can quickly go from a dry and sunny valley at 35°C to a humid forest area at altitude at 18°C.

La Gomera was populated late. As with the rest of the Canaries, human presence is thought to have begun about 2,000 years ago. Groups of animist Berbers, probably fleeing persecution, gradually populated the archipelago, especially the western islands and La Gomera, becoming its small aboriginal population: the Guanches (or later Gomeros). The animist and pastoral civilization of the Guanches thrived until the Spanish takeover in the 15th century, which, after a short period of harmony and mixing with the indigenous people, suddenly ended in bloodshed... La Gomera later became the “Columbus Island” after Christopher Columbus’s stopover, increasing the blending of populations. In the 20th century, many Gomeros emigrated to Cuba and other Latin American countries in search of a better life, bringing back a mix of cultures and traits quite palpable in today’s Gomeran culture. It is, however, in La Gomera that the vestiges of Guanche culture seem to have left the most traces, in the language, gastronomy, social practices... Moreover, most Gomeros, especially in remote villages, have a particular identifiable type and proudly claim their ancestral roots, even making La Gomera a bit exotic in the eyes of other Canarians.

Perhaps that’s why it has never really wanted to develop its tourist infrastructure too much. If we set aside the tourists who visit for the day by bus or boat from Tenerife on a marked itinerary (and whom we ultimately rarely encounter), La Gomera has remained a hidden gem, a destination focused on nature discovery that attracts hikers, nature-loving divers, and scientists for its fauna and flora, and to a lesser extent, beachgoers who don’t seek overly developed coastlines. Tourist activity is therefore limited. Roughly speaking, you’ll find a majority of Spaniards, including a substantial number of residents from other Canary Islands, many Germans who have a particular fondness for La Gomera and spend long stays there or own second homes, to the point that the German cultural footprint is clearly noticeable in some places (it’s said to be Angela Merkel’s favorite holiday spot), and still quite a few French. The presence of other nationalities seemed negligible to us. Most travelers come mainly for hiking, but it’s also a prime spot for whale watching. Additionally, the seaside resorts of La Gomera—San Sebastián, Santiago, and especially Valle Gran Rey—are well-known destinations for hippies, especially German ones, ranging from chic boho hippies to old-school hippies who’ve been there for decades, quite similar to those you’d meet in India in Goa, Rishikesh, or Paharganj. Thus, practices like naturism, vegetarianism, and local organic production are quite well established in some areas.

Some practical info: - The round-trip flight from Paris to Tenerife cost us 365 € per person (outbound with Transavia, return with EasyJet), including checked luggage and three seats reserved side by side. - We chose two bases to explore the island: one week in Valle Gran Rey, reputed to be the most pleasant of the three seaside resorts, and one week in Hermigua, more mountainous and close to the natural park. We booked two houses with balconies and views: the first at 120 € per night, the second at 99 €. - The round-trip ferry between Tenerife and La Gomera cost us 270 € with the company Baleària Canarias, including discounts for children aged 4 and 12, but I don’t have the exact details. It was a bit cheaper than with the other company, Fred Olsen. - Finally, we rented a car through the agency Cicar for 360 € for 16 days, which comes to 22.50 € per day. - Apart from that, we didn’t plan anything and decided the day before or even the morning of what we wanted to do. We didn’t invest in any paper guide on the Canaries, as information on La Gomera was scarce, but we used the very comprehensive site La Gomera Travel, a travel guide published by the Canary Islands Tourism Council, a real goldmine of almost exhaustive information on the island.

Alright, off we go for 16 days of adventure discovering La Gomera!

And we start the trip with music!

We start the trip with music!

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Calisson94 last week

Trek in Norway: Jotunheimen and Dovrefjell, you’ll adapt to the rain...

In the summer of 2026, we packed our backpacks again to wander around Jotunheimen National Park in Norway.

We’d never heard of this park just a few months earlier—we discovered it by following threads online.

It’s billed as the most mountainous park in the country, which really appealed to us after scrapping our original plan further north.

Unfortunately, it’s also the most crowded, which immediately made it less appealing! The presence of the highest peak in the Scandinavian Alps and the "famous" Bessengen ridge (famous because it’s apparently well-known across the country) probably has a lot to do with that.

Since we’d managed to avoid the crowds on the Kungsleden trails by camping away from the huts and timing our hike to miss the biggest groups of walkers, we figured we had the formula down and gave in to the call of the Norwegian mountains.

It’s the most mountainous park, sure, but also quite challenging in terms of progress, as we’d soon discover during the trek. And with uncooperative weather, we got the winning combo of a demanding hike. But I’m getting ahead of myself...

For the end of the trip, we planned a few days in Dovrefjell National Park—these two parks are easily connected by public transport—to see something different and, most importantly, to try and spot the musk oxen that live there.

My 04/08 - Arrival in Oslo Wed 05/08 - Bygdin – Torfinsbu Thu 06/08 - Torfinsbu - Gjendebu Fri 07/08 - Gjendebu - Fondsbu Sat 08/08 - Day hike to Slotafjellet Sun 09/08 - Day hike to Lake Kvitevatnet Mon 10/08 - Fondsbu - Gjendebu Tue 11/08 - Gjendebu - Before the Bessengen ridge Wed 12/08 - Bessengen ridge – Maurvangen campsite Thu 13/08 - Knutshoe ridge Fri 14/08 - Bus transfer to Spiterstulen hut via Lom Sat 15/08 - Day hike to Galdhøpiggen Sun 16/08 to Wed 19/08: Dovrefjell End of the trip and wrap-up

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Muriel18 last week

Two weeks under the Puglia sun

After a pretty disastrous weather-wise trip to Gran Canaria, we’re hoping this time the sun will shine in Puglia. It’s not a sure thing, though—the weather’s been awful all over Europe in early May.

For those who’d like to (re)read the story without the digressions, it’s here.

Saturday, May 16: This time we’re flying out of Charleroi (Brussels South): the ticket prices, flight times, and proximity all worked for us. The airport (Ryanair) was recently renovated... but it’s still not very well organized. There are hardly any seats in the boarding areas, and... the restrooms cost money!!! The flight goes smoothly, though, and we land in Bari a little late.

We quickly pick up our rental car, a very local-looking Pandina (even more so than the Fiat 500 in this region), and hit the Italian roads... and their unique driving quirks (like the fact that the countless road signs along the streets and in towns are purely decorative 😏, and that Italian cars don’t have turn signals 😮... except for rental cars).

About an hour later, we arrive at our first accommodation, right in the middle of the countryside near Monopoli. The owner isn’t there, but they’ve left us a ton of info via messages and even turned on the space heater, which is a nice touch. We explore the property:

And the next morning before breakfast, its immediate surroundings:

Sunday, May 17: After our "seaside" experience in Gran Canaria last weekend (packed with people and locals), we decide to start inland. After a hearty breakfast,

we head toward Alberobello, a super touristy village famous for its trulli—those stone houses with conical roofs. We easily find a free parking spot on a street near the Aia Piccola district, where some trulli are still lived in year-round.

We almost immediately come across the Trullo Sovrano (the only two-story one), which you can visit (but we skip it—it’s opening time, and there’s already a line).

From there, we head down toward the Basilica of Cosma e Damiano... but we don’t go in because there’s a mass.

Now we’re on the main Piazza del Popolo, which connects the two districts of Alberobello: Rione Aia Piccola and Rione Monti, the more touristy one.

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Bibouns51 2 weeks ago

Off to explore Egypt!

February 9 - Day 1

"So, my little wanderers, back at the decks? What’s this mystery destination you’ve got in store for us at the start of the year?"

Yes, the schoolyard bell’s ringing again! We’re hitting the road... or rather, the skies! At first glance, our destination might surprise more than a few. First off, simply because I was here exactly twenty years ago, and I don’t usually like retracing my own footsteps. Secondly, because the name of this place screams mass tourism—basically the opposite of what Flo and I look for.

Despite that, in this land of backsheesh, I’d promised myself I’d come back one day to experience it my way. And since Flo told me, during our wanderer chats, that this destination straddling Africa and the Middle East was in her top 2 travel dreams, the stars aligned for this roots-style trip to quickly make it onto our pharaonic festivities program! Unless you’re totally clueless in general knowledge, you’ve probably guessed by now—we’re off to Egypt! Of course, a few classics will be on our itinerary, but above all, we want to soak up a culture that can’t be appreciated in four-star resorts or on a Nile cruise boat. And let’s be clear, these next two weeks won’t be a walk in the park—neither for our two daughters who are joining us, nor for our bodies!

And that’s clear from the get-go: after our first flight, eight hours of trying (and failing) to sleep on Milan airport’s metal seats, our second flight, landing, passport stamps, our Uber ride, and our first Cairo kilometers, we finally drop our exhaustion at the little guesthouse we booked in Giza. Doesn’t all that energy deserve a little reward?

Oh, absolutely! And here it is: a full-on slap in the face for everyone! But just look at this view from our hotel terrace? For 20 € a night for four, even with this incredible view, I figured the room must be pretty shabby, right? Nope... Is the staff rude, then? Nope... Okay, so what’s the catch? You’re gonna tell me breakfast is included too? Well, yes! Honestly, this Egypt trip is off to a great start.

And the rest of the afternoon, spent rubbing shoulders with locals, only confirmed this vibe. After digesting our pyramid view, we dove into the hustle and bustle of our neighborhood with the goal of exchanging money, eating at street stalls, and testing the hospitality of the locals. Ten out of ten!

Eight little sun breads with baba ganoush and falafel? 80 pounds, or 1.5 €. A dozen Middle Eastern pastries? Same! 80 pounds! Two hawawshis, those little pita breads stuffed with meat and spices? 10 pounds each, or about twenty cents! Not to mention all those smiles and free "welcomes" left and right!!!

What a welcome! We end this first day with a sunset over the three sisters of Giza—where we’ll obviously be gawking tomorrow...

https://voyageforum.com/images/posts/small/1789072399-cCyLDYuFwPLAZTY.jpg

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MyCairn 2 weeks ago · Sheepie

Five weeks from Chile to Uruguay via Patagonia: travel journal and the end of my Excel spreadsheet

Hi everyone,

We're leaving on November 1st for five weeks, just the two of us, from north to south and then east: Santiago, Puerto Varas and the Lake District, Punta Arenas, Puerto Natales and Torres del Paine, El Calafate, El Chaltén, Ushuaïa, then Montevideo, José Ignacio, and Buenos Aires, returning on December 3rd. Everything is planned by us, without an agency, just like our previous trips. I’d like to thank everyone who shared their travel stories—they’ve been a huge inspiration. I’ll post an update here each week: first about the trip itself, with some great tips, and then a few lines about an experiment I’m running alongside it. Feel free to ask questions—I’ll answer as soon as I have signal.

The experiment is about the *method*. For twenty years, every trip started with a paper notebook, then the same Excel spreadsheet: one line per stop, dates, where we sleep, how we get there, what we do. But every time, the same limitations: paper gets messy, the spreadsheet doesn’t recalculate when a stop changes, neither tracks what’s left to book or by when, confirmations get buried in my inbox, tickets stay in a binder at home, and every evening, I’m juggling updates across three group chats.

So I built a tool that centralizes everything: the stops and their dates, which auto-update; what’s left to book, with deadlines and reminders; confirmations, organized by email forwarding; the planned and actual budget; the offline map on my phone; and the evening journal for my loved ones. This trip is the first I’m doing entirely with it, from planning to return—each update will share what worked and what didn’t. It’s already been a huge help in the planning phase, but now, let the adventure begin!

First update next Sunday from Puerto Natales.

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Lasthighland 2 weeks ago · Djalma

Hikes: What a Disappointment!

Hi there, I wanted to share my huge disappointment after my trip to Madeira. The island is known for its hikes, so I was really interested in checking them out. Unfortunately, in 2026, the freedom associated with mountain trails was heavily restricted. The most beautiful hikes are now paid and require mandatory time slots for entry—talk about planning ahead! The control is based on tickets, not time slots, which clearly shows that nature preservation wasn’t the priority behind this measure... Of course, you can find alternatives to the paid PRs, but if, like me, you value the freedom to hike, don’t go to Madeira!

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Yadin 3 weeks ago

Slovak travel journal

Hello and welcome aboard this travel journal. We’re heading to Slovakia together!

Why this country? After visiting Hungary, Slovenia, Romania, and Poland in recent years, I’ve fallen in love with Eastern European countries. I adore the Slavic soul, its Austro-Hungarian villages, the gentle landscapes, the Carpathian Mountains, and that slightly mysterious atmosphere. Slovakia evokes a certain imagination with its deep forests, medieval castles, and cobbled villages. After seeing photos of the High Tatras—especially Lake Štrbské Pleso and Spiš Castle—I thought, "Let’s do it! We’re going!" So, will Slovakia live up to what I imagine? We’ll find out together. We decided to travel as a group of six (five adults and a six-year-old child), by car (we needed two). Here’s the day-by-day itinerary for this family trip, which started with a 3-day stay in Vienna (see the dedicated travel journal):

The itinerary: Day 1: Drive from Vienna to Banská Štiavnica and visit the town, then drive to Handlová Day 2: Bojnice Castle, the village of Čičmany, and a walk in the treetops at Bojnice, return to Handlová Day 3: Depart for Orava, visit Orava Castle and the Orava Skansen, drive to Veľký Slavkov Day 4: Visit Slovak Paradise—its gorges, lakes, and ice cave—overnight in Veľký Slavkov Day 5: Visit Bardejov, the "Death Road," wooden churches, and Ľubovňa Castle, overnight in Veľký Slavkov Day 6: Walks and hikes in the High Tatras, Lake Štrbské Pleso, Solisko summit, treetop walk in Ždiar, overnight in Veľký Slavkov Day 7: Drive to Košice, visit Spiš Castle, Tokaj wine route in Veľká Trňa, overnight in Košice Day 8: Visit Košice, overnight in Košice Day 9: Drive to Bratislava, stop at the Aragonite Cave in the Slovak Karst, overnight in Bratislava Day 10: Visit Bratislava, overnight stay Day 11 and 12: Return to France

Budget: I’m giving prices for 2 adults / 1 child. Slovakia is more expensive than it seems, and some expenses shouldn’t be underestimated. Transportation: Tolls and gas from France: 500 € round trip Slovak vignette for one month: 17.10 € Gas is fixed at 1.49 € per liter (E10) Parking at sites (all paid by the day, even in the most remote villages, even if you stay for just an hour). Payment is often required in cash upon arrival: total 63 € We didn’t pay at Spiš (we arrived before the cashier) or Ľubovňa (we arrived after the cashier left). Parking at Orava Village was free. In Košice and Bratislava, we parked for free at our accommodations. Public transport in Bratislava and Košice: 1-1.2 € for a bus ticket. Vending machines are available at some stops; otherwise, buy via SMS (Slovak phones only) or official sales points.

Accommodation: We mostly chose houses so we could cook ourselves and save on food. I’ve rated our satisfaction with these accommodations from 1 to 5 stars. Padua: DC Hotel: 1 night, 77 € ***** Handlová: Chata Remata: 2 nights, 120 € ***** Veľký Slavkov: Aplend: 4 nights, 220 € ** Košice: Luxury Old Town Loft 320m²: 2 nights, 120 € ***** Bratislava: Hotel Viktor: 2 nights, 138 € *** Brescia: Hotel Antica Fonte: 1 night, 82 € ***** Total: 757 €

Food: Groceries at Lidl for 5 meals for 3: 100 € (really cheap) Restaurants: 10-15 € per dish, ice cream 1-2.4 € per scoop, crêpes 8-12 €, a glass of wine 6-10 €... total: 500 €

Visits: There are discounts for seniors and children, which is great. We spent nearly 600 € in total, which is a lot. However, it’s a cultural destination with many castles, museums, caves, wine cellars, and nature activities: cable cars, canopy walks, paid hikes (Slovak Paradise gorges)... In the end, this trip to Slovakia cost nearly 2500 € for 3. We also need to add the Vienna portion to that. Now, here’s the day-by-day account of this beautiful journey.

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Bluequark 3 weeks ago · Nathalie971

Three weeks in Japan with the family

Hi everyone,

Actually, we ended up going to Japan almost by chance. I’d caught glimpses of the country during business trips, and it had been on my “wish list” for a while, but I thought we’d go “when the kids were grown up.”

But this summer (2016), the kids couldn’t agree on a destination—their wishes were completely opposite. Then, realizing that flight tickets weren’t outrageously priced—and having read that Japan wasn’t as expensive as people think—we, the parents, suggested Japan… while warning that it would be scorching hot and humid and that no one should complain. Our eldest (18) was immediately thrilled: “Oh! Mom! I’ve always dreamed of going to Japan!” She convinced her brother (16) that it was the perfect destination. Deal sealed: we’re going to Japan, but no one complains about the heat.

After some forum discussions and family brainstorming, I settled on the following itinerary. One non-negotiable shaped part of our choices: being in Hiroshima on August 6th to attend the lantern floating ceremony. To avoid overloading the trip with extra transport, we skipped Nara, Nikko, and Kamakura.

Day 1 - Arrival at 8:30 AM in Osaka – Kyoto - around the station Day 2 - Kyoto - East - night: Kyoto Day 3 - Kyoto - North and center - night: Kyoto Day 4 - Osaka (stroll with Osaka Safari) - Fushimi Inari -night : Kyoto Day 5 - Train - Naoshima - night: Uno Day 6 - Teshima -night: Uno Day 7 - Naoshima – Hiroshima - night: Hiroshima Day 8 - Hiroshima – Commemorations - night: Hiroshima Day 10 - Miyajima- night: Miyajima Day 10 - Miyajima - Himeji Castle - night: Osaka Day 11 - Osaka - night: Osaka Day 12 - Kyoto - West -night: Osaka Day 13 - Kanazawa to Ainokura - night: Ainokura Day 14 - Shirakawa-go - Takayama - night: Takayama Day 15 - Kamikochi night: Takayama Day 16 - Takayama - return to Kanazawa night: Kanazawa Day 17 - Kanazawa -night: Kanazawa Day 18 - Travel to Tokyo (Shibuya) -night: Tokyo Day 19 - Tokyo (visit with Tokyo Free Guide – Yoyogi Park - Meiji Shrine - Harajuku - Takeshita-dori - Omote Sando - Odaiba) - night: Tokyo Day 20 - Tokyo (with Tokyo Safari) - night: Tokyo Day 21 - Tokyo (Tsukiji, Hama-Rikyu Onshi Teien, Asakusa and Senso-ji, Kappabashi, Ameyoko, and Ueno) - night: Tokyo Day 22 - Tokyo (Shibuya-Yoyogi Park again - Ikebukuro - Shinjuku (Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, Omoide-yokocho, Golden Gai) - night: Tokyo Day 23 - Tokyo (Yanaka – Ueno – Edo-Tokyo Museum - Takashita-Dori again - back to Shibuya) - departure at 10:50 PM for Paris

(You can access the published days directly by clicking on them).

The itinerary perfectly matched our expectations: a good pace, a wide variety of visits, the must-sees, but also a first taste of rural Japan. If we were to do it again, I’d do exactly the same (except for the back-and-forth between Kyoto and Osaka on Days 4 and 12, which were due to my desire to explore Osaka with Osaka Safari). Of course, we had to skip some sights, especially in Kyoto where we missed a few “highlights,” but that was a deliberate choice—I’d limited our time in the city, which is known for being stifling in summer.

For accommodations, we mixed Airbnb apartments and quadruple rooms in guesthouses and ryokan. It worked out perfectly. The apartments gave us more space and the chance to dine in some evenings, while the guesthouses and ryokan helped us experience Japanese customs.

First, a quick recap: all four of us were enchanted by our trip. Japan is a constant source of wonder, just like the preface of *Tokyo Sanpo* by Florent Chavouet describes—I’ll take this opportunity to plug the book, which I read with great pleasure after our vacation. That’s exactly it: everything is a reason for amazement. Everything is so different from home. I wanted to photograph everything around me constantly. I promise, I won’t say “photograph like a Japanese” anymore—during this trip, *I* was the Japanese. And I better understand the culture shock Japanese travelers experience in Europe.

As a friend of mine put it: “It’s simple—they have ten fingers, so they count in base 10. Otherwise, they do everything differently from us.” Well summarized.

Another thing: everything is easy. Everything seems to have its place and be exactly where it should be. The smallest detail seems to have been thought out to make life easier. Things that come to mind: the incredibly well-designed signage in train stations and the subway, the ubiquitous public toilets, designated smoking areas, those hyper-detailed maps with all the useful information available at every place we visited… These maps are so well done that we got into the habit of picking them up systematically. It’s that simple: I came back to Paris with a complete collection. And when we arrived in Takayama by car, our first stop was at the train station to get THE map. But this order goes beyond all these practical elements. There’s a certain *je ne sais quoi* that makes you feel like everything is exactly where it should be. Even during rush hour, in the crowds, people manage to avoid each other in a smooth, collision-free flow—the opposite of the Paris metro. Anyone who’s experienced certain transfers in Paris at certain times will understand.

The exquisite politeness of the Japanese and their desire to be helpful are another highlight of the trip. Every person we met tried to help us and make our lives easier. It was really great.

Oh! I almost forgot: Japan’s hyper-safe side. I’ve rarely felt as safe as I did in Japan. No need to keep an eye on your belongings—they’re not going anywhere. One example among many: in Tokyo, Japanese women leave their bags open with their smartphones casually placed on top. Even I could’ve taken them without them noticing, let alone a pickpocket… No wonder France is seen as dangerous.

That said, I’m not claiming Japanese society is flawless. The role of women and gender relations are downright shocking and archaic from our European perspective. I also don’t think I could live in such a codified society, where the individual is so dissolved into the collective. But for a vacation, it’s simply delightful. On that note, I recommend *Nââânde?!* by Eriko Nakamura, which I discovered after our trip on the recommendation of our eldest’s friend. It’s the story of a Japanese woman married to a Frenchman living in Paris, recounting her astonishment at French habits and customs. Even though I tried to be careful, I’m sure I made quite a few blunders.

As for the climate, it didn’t stop us from enjoying our trip. Sure, we were hot—*really* hot—but by protecting ourselves from the sun (hat for me, caps for the others, plus umbrellas—Japanese-style parasols) and drinking liters and liters of water, it was manageable and didn’t bother us too much, even if we probably had a slower pace than we would’ve with milder weather. That said, with small children, we would’ve struggled more.

Last point before diving into the trip details: the cost. Despite what I’d read, traveling in Japan is still expensive. I’m not talking about our specific trip, where—using our daughter’s 18th birthday and our 20th wedding anniversary as an excuse—I splurged on a few extras that drove up the cost. I was particularly surprised by the price of quadruple rooms, which is roughly the same as two double rooms. So for a family, that’s a significant extra cost. The various paid sites in Kyoto also add up. As for food, it’s generally cheap, but it would be a shame not to budget for a few extras to try some less affordable specialties—like Hida beef in our case.

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Orionide 3 weeks ago

Exploring Senja Island and the Lofoten Archipelago

Hi everyone,

We traveled to Norway in the summer of 2025, from July 17 to 29, to visit Senja Island and the Lofoten archipelago with a rental car. The common thread of these twelve days was clearly hiking, along with a few visits and experiences, and nights spent in a tent or in the car (which made it possible). We chose Narvik Airport for both arrival and departure for several complementary reasons: the desire to visit nearby Senja Island, slightly more affordable airfare, and finally, the rental price of the vehicle—especially the car model we were looking for. We only made one reservation, for the first campsite, as sleeping in a tent made things much easier. But we had the whole structure of the trip planned, a flexible outline that could adapt to the weather conditions we’d encounter. Senja Island isn’t part of the Lofoten archipelago, and during the early stages of planning this trip, we hadn’t planned to visit it. But its relative proximity to Narvik Airport and, above all, its unique geography definitely made us change our minds. We arrived in Evenes, where Narvik Airport is located, nearly 60 km from the city itself. Our first stop was 40 km further in Bjerkvik on the way to Senja, where there’s a Rema 1000 (a very common supermarket chain in Norway). We needed to buy some food and a gas cartridge for our stove. I’d emailed the store manager beforehand, who told me they didn’t sell them but that the two gas stations in the village were likely to have some in stock.

It was only at the Esso station that I found what I needed, but unfortunately, only one cartridge. Luckily, we quickly realized that most campsites (like in Iceland) have a shared kitchen with hotplates. That single small cartridge was just enough for the few nights we spent outside of campsites... We got our first taste of Norway’s characteristic landscapes:

When we arrived at the Senja campsite, it was already 9:30 PM. A sign announced it was full, but luckily, I’d booked it 10 days earlier. By 10:30 PM, as we settled in to eat, it was still broad daylight, and the thermometer read 25°C—despite being at a latitude of 69° North! We went to bed around midnight, exhausted but under the light of a sun that was still very much present. Thanks to Earth’s tilted axis. We’d anticipated this by buying opaque sleep masks because, yes, at this time of year, it’s daylight all the time.

Friday, July 18:

Today, we planned two hikes on the island and a few stops along the way. The map clearly shows that the deepest fjords are in the north and west. Due to time and accessibility, we focused on the northern part of the island. Our first stop was at the viewing platform in Bergbotn:

Then we headed toward Skaland, the starting point for our first hike. Along the way, we found plenty of reasons to stop—especially since, on this first day of travel, our thirst for Nordic landscapes was far from quenched.

The town of Skaland is very practical: free parking, picnic tables for after the hike, and a Joker convenience store right next door. Our goal was the summit of Husfjellet: 670 m of elevation gain, between 8 and 9 km in length, and an estimated 4 hours and 30 minutes.

This hike offers two major viewpoints. The first overlooks the Bergsoyan islands to the west:

At the summit, the view shifts to the Steinfjorden fjord:

You can even clearly see the "Devil’s Teeth," which we’d see from below later:

In total, the hike took us 4 hours and 30 minutes, including all the breaks. We treated ourselves to an ice cream in Skaland to recharge for the next hike. We hit the road again and stopped at Tungeneset to get a closer look at the Devil’s Teeth:

We continued to Fjordgard, the starting point for our second hike. Fjordgard isn’t very welcoming. There was a time when you could park right at the start of the hike up Mount Segla. Now, everything’s blocked off, and locals have even taken to blocking all possible parking spots nearby. You now have to park outside the town at a paid parking lot (90 NOK for 3 hours), adding an extra 2 km (round trip) of walking. Still, that was just a minor inconvenience because the hike that followed quickly made us forget all about it. The hike is fairly short (2 hours) but still has 520 m of elevation gain. This hike was a stark contrast to the first. This morning, we had sweeping views of the vast landscape. Here, Mount Segla, perched on the edge of the cliff, dominates the foreground:

For those prone to vertigo, it might be best to stay at the foot of the mountain, as the trail climbs right along the cliff edge. And from that point on, you quickly understand what verticality really means...

In total, we took 2 hours and 50 minutes, including breaks and the extra walk to the parking lot. The day was already well underway, and with 1,200 m of cumulative elevation gain, it was time to find a spot to eat and sleep. Since we hadn’t made any reservations, we’d planned to bivouac for the night. We weren’t too picky—just practical—so we decided to sleep in the car at the parking lot for tomorrow morning’s hike, just 5 km from Fjordgard.

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Jemaflor 3 weeks ago · Barry23

CARIBBEAN: The island of SAINT-MARTIN, a different perspective

When it comes to the Caribbean island of Saint-Martin, it's customary to praise its coastline and dreamy beaches—and they certainly deserve it. But in this story, I’d like to highlight other memories, aspects, and impressions for a slightly different change of scenery. Enjoy the read—some text and, above all, lots of photos. « Byenveni sou zile Sen Maten! » (Welcome to the island of Saint-Martin)

-- -- Full and luminous To avoid seeming too conventional at the start of this alternative take on Saint-Martin... here’s not a stunning sunrise over the sea but rather a moonrise—a less "typical" choice. And when you get to witness it, it’s a truly unique moment of contemplation. However, three conditions are essential for this spectacle: a full moon phase, a cloud-free horizon, and—most importantly—a moonrise at twilight. That early evening, all the conditions aligned—lucky us! Just above the sea, a strange glow gradually appeared. A huge moon was about to shine against a deep blue night sky.

What’s more, its light sparkled on the water’s surface—gorgeous! But so fleeting. We’re on the east coast of the island, by the wide stretch of light sand at Baie Orientale, Saint-Martin’s own. Now, just because I wanted to start with something a little different doesn’t mean we should overlook the bright sunrises you can see on this bay. They’re far more common than a beautiful full moonrise, but they also require two things: being an early riser and a clear horizon without misty clouds. Views to soak in without restraint...

Other memories of beautiful lights and lovely colors—a morning when the sun had a brief meet-up with the rain, creating a stunning rainbow.

And let’s talk about the moon again... On a clear night, a "blood moon," the result of a lunar eclipse that had turned our familiar satellite red.

-- --

A butterfly with golden wings! In the tropics, swarms of butterflies flutter everywhere, from flower to flower. They sip the sweet nectar from stamens and blooming corollas with delight.

Here, a monarch, one of the great migratory butterflies, taking its time to enjoy the pollen of this Ixora coccinea—or Japanese hydrangea, but let’s stick to Saint-Martin.

This one is an *Agraulis vanillae*, to be precise—and thanks to the internet for the ID. Photographing them isn’t always easy; these fearless butterflies often fly off before you can get a good focus, challenging both the framing eye and the autofocus! But on the island, I noticed some butterflies were much easier to shoot—those decorating a few murals. ;)

One of the graffiti artists behind several Saint-Martin murals has made it his signature. The talented Jimmy Sheik slips a little butterfly into each of his works, even if it’s not the main subject. It’s a nod to his home island, Guadeloupe, whose territory—with Basse-Terre and Grande-Terre—looks uncannily like a giant butterfly. In the photo above, a great initiative: turning this beach bungalow, abandoned after Hurricane Irma’s (2017) devastation, into a mural canvas—it’s a real success. Well done, artist!

To be continued >>>>>>

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Kate 3 weeks ago · Aroythai

Trip to Thailand and Laos

Hello! 🙂

January 2026 Here we go again for new adventures and the pleasure of sharing them with you here! First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who helped me with the preparations, even with some last-minute improvisations just days before departure. Thanks to Montagnard74, Jojoone1, Songsam, Attila, Dennis2, NadegerFERM, and the authors whose travel journals about Laos inspired me (Montagnard74, Muriel18, Mavietongs...).

In this story, written by Richard and illustrated by me, we’ll tell you about the journey of four friends: Catherine, Richard, Nathalie, and Bruno. A reinvented but overall successful trip, filled with discoveries and surprises, the scents of spices and frangipani flowers, (too) spicy food, sunsets, and... one big mess.

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Mitch341 3 weeks ago · Chatounnette

Pont de Gau

Hi everyone!

A quick travel journal entry to tell you about the Pont de Gau Ornithological Park, near Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer in the Camargue (13).

A real paradise for flamingos... but also for swarms of mosquitoes that attack in squadrons, without warning and dive-bombing! 🦟😄

And I thought these critters didn’t go for spoiled meat! Clearly, they’re not too picky about freshness! 😵

More seriously, it’s a really nice spot for photography and nature lovers. Kids love it too! If you’re in the area, it’s a great discovery to make.

Here are a few shots from my session yesterday at the end of the day.

675 photos on the counter, currently sorting through them... Still testing the camera body. If I keep about twenty, that’ll already be a win!

Anyway, there’s work to do... and some itching on top of that! 📸🦟😄

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Vilabel 3 weeks ago

Travel Journal - 28 Days in China in August 2026

Hi everyone,

I’m sharing a little recap of this new 4-week trip to China—nothing fancy, just my experience.

We’re taking advantage of the extended visa exemption to return to China for the 4th time. I loved last summer’s trip so much that I’m a bit worried about being disappointed this year. Plus, I’ve had a few hiccups before this departure: my WeChat account got blocked, and I couldn’t recover it (luckily, Alipay still works fine); I couldn’t verify my 12306 account for weeks; Trip.com failed to book our second train; and I’ve got an injury that’ll slow me down during the trip... Ugh, I hate starting a trip with these kinds of issues. Then, oh surprise! Just before leaving, my 12306 account got verified! Super easy to use from that point on—I could book a few train tickets without fees.

We’re sticking with Free’s e-SIMs, which work great in China.

August 2–3

Anyway, on the morning of August 2nd, we took the RER to CDG. As usual, we couldn’t check in online. It’s always a bit frustrating, especially since we didn’t have any checked luggage. We flew with Air China. We arrived at the check-in counter at 9:50 AM, 2 hours and 40 minutes before the flight. The line for our check-in stretched 300 meters across the airport in both directions. What a joke!! We spent 1 hour and 45 minutes in that line just to reach the counter and get our boarding passes. By then, it was 11:35 AM, and boarding had already started at 11:20 AM. The screens showed a 25-minute walk to our gate—on the other side of the airport, of course—plus we had to go through passport control and security... Long story short, the plane didn’t leave without us 🙂 We boarded among the last passengers, and we took off at 12:30 PM. We’d flown Air China four times before, but this time, it felt *really* low-cost. The check-in chaos, the cramped seats (12 seats per row), no music by artists known outside China, mediocre food, and a boarding area at Beijing Airport with only 10 seats—worthy of Ryanair or EasyJet. And yet, the price was sky-high. Again, D.’s vacation requests were denied outside of July and August, so we’re traveling from August 2nd to 30th. We couldn’t have picked a worse time for inflated prices, and with the situation in Iran, we got hit with a 390 € fuel surcharge. I’ve never paid so much for flights—I felt like I’d bought business class, but nope, far from it!!

We landed in Beijing around 4:15 AM. It was 28°C with thick fog. We drove and drove and drove for 20 minutes, as usual in Beijing. Then we went through a first check, a second check, a third check, and waited for our connecting flight at 6:40 AM. A small Airbus A320, but way more space than in the Boeing 777 from the first flight. We landed in Kunming, Yunnan, around 10:15 AM in the rain.

We headed to the subway. You can’t pay at the machines with Alipay here either, so we set up the transport QR code directly in Alipay to scan at the subway gates. The process is a bit long the first time if you haven’t entered your info before, but once it’s done, it’s *so* much easier! We took Line 6 to the terminus for 6 yuan each.

We’d booked a hotel nearby, on the 16th floor. It’s actually studios on different floors of a huge residential building. The view’s pretty nice from here. We settled in quickly—back to those wooden beds, or rather, mattresses as hard as wood, which we *hadn’t* missed... Then we went out for our first bowl of noodles of the trip and wandered through the shopping streets of the old town.

It was crowded, and the weather was cool—around 19–20°C. We tried a local specialty: milk skin, thick, dried, then grilled with rose jam. Yeah... we won’t be having that again. The taste and texture of the milk skin... no thanks.

We saw a lot of wild mushroom hotpot too. It’s on our list for later. We also passed through the Jinma and Biji gates, where I played with reflections in puddles. I *love* doing that 🙂

At the end of the day, we headed to a temple advertised as open 24/7 on Amap. Of course, when we got there, it was closed. We’ll go back tomorrow. That was the first of many disappointments with Amap this trip—I hadn’t had that issue on previous visits.

We were exhausted after that sleepless flight. Night was falling, and we decided to grab a quick bite without much appetite. We shared a delicious vegetable fried rice for 12 yuan—we even left half of it. The portions are *huge*.

After a couple of small purchases, we headed back at 9 PM, wiped out, after walking 17 km between the airports and these first steps in Kunming. I expected to see quite a few Western travelers here, but we didn’t spot a single one. Instead, we met lots of curious Chinese people, many of them super friendly and helpful—almost *too* eager, like when they’d run to serve us as fast as possible. It’s a bit much, but it’s great to be back!

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Larri 4 weeks ago · Mitch341

From Amman to Jerusalem

I’m reposting here a travel journal originally published on the Routard forum in 2022 during VoyageForum’s hiatus. Without altering its content, I’ll try to streamline it. The few comments on the political situation reflect my feelings at the time and don’t account for events since then! I’d rather avoid debates on the topic. The photos are nothing fancy—just illustrative.

The context: we’re coming out of COVID. We’re looking for a not-too-distant destination, and Jordan has been catching our eye for a while. After some thought, we wonder if we shouldn’t take advantage of the geography to hop over to Israel. After all, Jerusalem is less than 100 km from Amman. Plus, Transavia lets you combine both destinations.

To plan our trip (February 19 to March 4, 2022), we contacted three French-speaking agencies in Amman. Their itinerary proposals were pretty similar, but the prices varied significantly. Given the many positive reviews we read on travel forums and a very attractive rate compared to competitors, we quickly settled on Ahmad Ababseh’s agency. Still, deep down, we had a slight worry—so many glowing reviews seemed a bit over the top, but we took the chance.

During the preparation, which happened in a very short timeframe (less than 10 days), Ahmad didn’t provide detailed roadbooks, and we made do with brief email or phone exchanges. Few details were shared either. We discussed hotels, with Ahmad preferring the ones he knew. We picked our hotel for our arrival in Amman, but before agreeing, Ahmad insisted on inspecting the rooms.

For payment, Ahmad only asked for a 500 € deposit and trusted our word for the balance, which we paid upon arrival. He also committed in writing to refund the full deposit if our trip was canceled due to COVID.

Finally, for the Israeli part, Ahmad contacted an agency in Jerusalem to handle the logistics. He didn’t take a commission.

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Pinacoladada 4 weeks ago

Road Trip - Canadian West

After exploring Dawson City, the final stop on our incredible road trip to the Yukon (see travel journal), it was time to head back to Quebec.

Instead of returning directly, we took advantage of this cross-country drive to make several stops in British Columbia and Alberta.

This part of the trip allowed us to discover some of the most beautiful attractions in Western Canada, from breathtaking landscapes to iconic natural sites that are must-sees in Canada.

Between majestic mountains, turquoise lakes, and jaw-dropping panoramas, every stop added a memorable touch to this already exceptional adventure.

A wonderful way to wrap up this journey across Canada while fully enjoying the richness and diversity of its vast landscapes.

In the upcoming posts, you’ll discover the highlights that marked our journey through Western Canada.

I invite you to watch the associated videos to fully experience the atmosphere, landscapes, and attractions we were lucky enough to explore.

To navigate to a specific post, here are the appropriate links:

Adventure on the Alaska Highway: Bald Eagles, Bison & Moose Adventure on the Alaska Highway: Bison, Caribou & Bears Yellowhead Highway (Alberta): Roche Miette, Jasper Lake & Emerald Pond Maligne Lake Road (Jasper) | Moose and Elk Exploring Mount Robson Provincial Park (BC) Must-Sees on the Icefields Parkway - Alberta David Thompson Highway11 (AB): A Stunning Scenic Route What to See in Yoho National Park (BC) Johnston Canyon: Hike to the Lower & Upper Falls Iconic Sites of East Kootenay, BC Lundbreck Falls - A Spectacular Waterfall in Southern Alberta Trails of Red Rock Canyon & Blakiston Falls - Waterton Waterton Village Under the Snow - A Unique Place Writing-on-Stone: A Park Famous for Its Hoodoos Red Rock Coulee Natural Area Alberta – A Supernatural Landscape Dinosaur Provincial Park Alberta - Mysterious Badlands Drumheller: Dinos, Hoodoos & Badlands Interpretive Trail Hike at Horsethief Canyon | Drumheller Badlands Red Deer: Public Art & Murals Downtown Calgary | Public Art, Skyline & Iconic Spots Medicine Hat | Public Art & Iconic Spots

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Biking (MTB) along the Canal between the Two Seas (France)

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