Cycling Through Provence's Big Climbs

In the autumn of 2011, Provence was hit by apocalyptic weather—torrential rain and a particularly violent east wind, reaching 130 kilometers per hour, whipping up waves as high as seven meters. It wasn’t the best time to venture outside. Yet, I told myself that after the storm, calm would return. I kept an eye on the weather forecast and noticed that starting November 10th, a favorable window should open for a little 600-kilometer cycling trip across Provence. The weather reports promised a high-pressure system that would keep the bad weather at bay over these highlands. That was all I needed to decide to set off. The planned route would take me through Provence’s biggest climbs: Mont Ventoux, Montagne de Lure, the Verdon Gorge, the Massif des Maures, and Sainte-Baume.

And so, despite my doubts, the call of adventure was stronger. The train pulled away, and once again, a journey began at Part-Dieu station. This time, I headed toward Haute-Provence for a cycling adventure. It would be my first solo bike trip. I was a little nervous—cycling with panniers makes you feel vulnerable to theft. I’d already been robbed while traveling in a group in Peru, and that experience left me deeply shaken. Alone, I hesitated. But no need to panic—I’d read accounts from long-distance cyclists who hadn’t been robbed, even if it does happen sometimes. I was particularly thinking of a young schoolteacher who had taken a sabbatical to cycle around the world. Her students had remarked, "Teacher, you’re not sporty—how will you manage to cycle around the world?" This young woman was full of resourcefulness. In South America, before flying to China, she locked her bike to a post to take care of a natural need. When she returned, the post had been torn out, and her bike—along with all her gear—was gone. It was a shock for many, but not for her. She boarded her flight to the Middle Kingdom, bought the essentials (including a new bike) once there, and continued her journey! Remembering this story, I almost felt ashamed of my cowardice. These were the thoughts running through my mind as the Rhône Valley rolled by toward Orange, the starting point of my Provençal adventure through the big climbs.

Day One: Orange to Sault via Mont Ventoux – 90 km

9:30 AM, I stepped off the train. With all my gear, I had to navigate the underground passage—no easy feat, given that my bike and luggage weighed 35 kilos. At this time of year, I expected some areas to be deserted, so I’d packed enough to bivouac comfortably. Once outside the station, the southern light flooded over me. I understood why people dream of retiring in these sun-drenched regions. As always, after disembarking from public transport, I had to get my bearings and decide which way to go. The sun, still low on the horizon, pointed east. The roar of fighter jet engines helped me locate the Air Base 115. That was all I needed to "reset the gyros."

As soon as I started pedaling, all my apprehensions vanished. The joy of discovery and physical effort took over, and euphoria washed over me. It’s amazing how emotions can shift from one moment to the next based on seemingly minor circumstances.

The weather was splendid—the forecast had predicted continuous showers, but it was completely wrong. I quickly left the city behind. Mont Ventoux loomed mysteriously, its dimensions hard to gauge. It was even more enigmatic with its summit hidden beneath swirling, mottled clouds clinging to the ridges. It reminded me of a great South American volcano. I struggled to imagine that in a few hours, I’d be up there under that blanket of mist.

The countryside was shaking off its autumnal nighttime dampness. The vineyards, interspersed with tall cypress hedges, confirmed I was in the magnificent Côtes du Rhône wine region. The distinctive Dentelles de Montmirail were very much in evidence. The air force base wasn’t far. I passed the runway’s end markers. A Mirage 2000 flew overhead in a tight turn, followed by another roaring into takeoff. It came straight at me before climbing sharply with a thunderous roar. Thirty years spent in that captivating world came rushing back. I recalled countless extraordinary human and technical experiences from my time in the service. But the purpose of this post isn’t to promote the air force—though I might post some articles one day about travels among men at war.

I continued on my way, leaving my past loves behind. As I pedaled, delightful names rolled by: Violès, Vacqueyras, Gigondas, Beaumes-de-Venise—the crème de la crème of the Côtes du Rhône Villages appellation. I let myself be enchanted by the vineyards and the little paths crisscrossing them. I started to doubt my route, though the imposing mass of Mont Ventoux in the distance acted like a giant beacon. At a crossroads, a car appeared. I approached to ask the driver for directions, but she didn’t even look at me and sped off, clearly frightened. I’d almost forgotten what a fearful world we live in, no doubt traumatized by all the horrors we see in the news and on TV.

The kilometers started adding up, but was my day’s goal too ambitious? It had been two months since I’d last ridden my bike. True, my last trip had been good training—the Route des Grandes Alpes—but that was two months ago. I can’t just take my bike out for a day trip; I need that sense of adventure to find the courage to exercise.

Two cyclists overtook me. Intrigued by my load, they struck up a conversation. They were skeptical when I told them I planned to cross Mont Ventoux that day. One of them pointed out a small chapel near the summit where I could bivouac sheltered. That motivated me even more to reach the top on this first stage. The chapel also had a mythical name for me—Sainte-Anne, the name of my parents’ villa. It was already noon, and I’d covered 50 kilometers. Malaucène appeared—the sacred village of Ventoux’s mad cyclists. Surprisingly, I didn’t see any other cyclists today. I remembered this place in June, teeming with aspirants for the king of summits. Before tackling the climb ahead, I needed to refuel. I enjoyed a pleasant gastronomic break at Max’s. At 1 PM, I started the most famous climb in cycling—21 kilometers, which would actually be 23. I knew it would be tough, especially with two handicaps: 50 kilometers already in my legs and 20 kilos of luggage. But I was counting on my tiny chainring, which let me climb trees to tackle the steep ramps.

I set off at a brisk pace along a deserted road. My speed held up for the first few kilometers. I quickly rose above the valley, the horizon widening. I was surprised to see no one on this world-renowned route among cycling enthusiasts. During the climb and descent, I’d only see five cyclists—but I’ll come back to that. I passed a sign explaining that the effort would be roughly equivalent to climbing the Col de la Bonnette. Having done the latter in September, I figured I’d be fine. I crossed paths with my first cyclist—a woman speeding downhill. After 12 kilometers, I hit slopes averaging 12%. I don’t know if the number 12 is cursed, but I got such a "bamboo" hit that I’d never experienced before. I thought I wouldn’t make it to the summit today. I stopped. My thighs burned so much I could barely walk—lactic acid overload. I looked for a relatively flat spot to pitch my tent. It was 3:30 PM, with two hours of daylight left. But I found nothing.

I got back on my bike, intending to stop as soon as I found a good bivouac spot. But nothing came up. However, my strength slowly returned, perhaps because the slope eased, though it remained around 10%. I entered the summit mists. A cyclist overtook me. I was in the zone where I had to pass the summit. Dusk caught me in the final difficulties. The atmosphere was downright austere. In the twilight, a kilometer from the summit, a cyclist was fixing his bike. I asked if he needed help. He made it clear he didn’t understand. So I asked, "Do you need some help?" His answer was clear: "No, thank you." He showed me his new inner tube. Inside, I thought, "Phew!" If I’d had to stop, sweating in the falling night with the cold intensifying, I’d have struggled to get going again. But he managed, and I continued into the twilight fog. I could barely make out the summit’s large antennas in the clouds, like immense ghosts trying to evade sight. The bike delivered sensations worthy of mountain racing. My goal was to quickly find the famous chapel in the descent to take shelter. As I glided down the southern slope, two cyclists without lights crossed my path in the night—probably heading to the station above, its lights visible in the fog.

I scanned the roadside in the dark for the chapel but saw nothing. After a kilometer or two, I lost all hope. I stopped to put on more clothes as the cold became intense. I had no idea where I could stop on these steep slopes to set up camp. Between the swirls of mist, I could intermittently see the Rhône Valley below, dotted with illuminated towns and villages. The sight was striking. What was I doing on this mountain at night? Then the miracle happened—the clouds parted, and from the ridge above me to the east, a beautiful full moon emerged, casting enough light to consider a nighttime descent to Sault, 26 kilometers away.

In this eerie atmosphere between the moon’s pale rays and patches of fog, I began my descent through a hazy, almost unreal world. The Ventoux’s characteristic white scree reflected the moonlight faintly, dimmed by the mist. In places, entire mountainsides were plunged into complete darkness, and I lost all sense of the road’s path. Then, around a tight bend caused by a land shift, the light returned. It seemed extreme compared to the darkness I’d left behind. I could once again clearly see the road’s contours, though not its potholes or gravel patches. Still, I let the slope carry me, and the speed felt significant, though the low light prevented me from reading my speedometer. In these moments, concentration was at its peak—all senses alert, reflexes ready to react to the slightest incident that could lead to a fall.

I was relieved to see Sault’s lights growing closer. In less than an hour, I reached it, considering the final little climb that required one last push. This village, bustling in summer, was deserted at this time of year—almost dead. The first hotel I came across was closed. A quick shadow passed in a small sloping street. Before it disappeared into the darkness at a house corner, I chased after it and asked about accommodation options. Very kindly, I was directed to what was probably the only hotel open in November. I quickly found it, and the reception was open. I entered wearing my black balaclava, bought in the Ayacucho region—the birthplace of Peru’s Shining Path. At this late hour, I saw questioning glances directed at me. I prefaced, "This isn’t a hold-up." Clearly, the owners had a sense of humor—they started smiling. I took off my balaclava and asked for a room. No problem, and from that moment, the pressure eased. I really didn’t feel like going back out to find a spot to pitch my tent in the biting cold.

The stage had been nearly 100 kilometers, and it was the first. It had been two months since I’d touched my bike, and I probably lacked even minimal training, even though my last bike trip had been crossing the French Alps. I really had to dig deep to overcome my weakness on Ventoux’s steep section. I don’t remember ever having to search so deeply for the energy to keep going. I knew the stage I’d set for tomorrow was significant, with the climb up Montagne de Lure’s northern slope—Ventoux’s little sister, whose ascent is reputed to be endless, over 25 kilometers. I hoped this first day wouldn’t leave me too sore to avoid suffering excessively tomorrow.

For now, relaxation—a hot shower did me a world of good, followed by a good meal. I ate a delicious andouillette from Troyes, very fine, with a particularly successful herb seasoning. I loved it, and yet I’m from Lyon and pride myself on knowing a thing or two about andouillette—not just a sausage but a whole category! A bit chauvinistic, I had to admit, though reluctantly, that I found it better than the ones I usually eat in the Lyon region!

Day Two: Sault to Forcalquier via Montagne de Lure – 116 km

This morning, the weather was magnificent—the air clear, still, very fresh, and invigorating, as only the late season can offer on these Provençal highlands. In summer, they’re known for their scorching heat and drought, but often overlooked is how harsh they can be with cold and storms. Authors like Giono or Bosco described them and their inhabitants wonderfully in books like "Les Âmes Fortes."

The miracle of the night had worked. I wasn’t sore anywhere and felt in great shape. I set off well-equipped, but the effort and sun soon made me sweat. It was time to shed some layers—hat and gloves. A gentle warmth replaced the cold, making for excellent cycling conditions. On the road to Trinit, there was no traffic—only the occasional hunters’ cars parked in the distance. These vehicles were recognizable by their large cages, used to transport hunting dogs. Sometimes, the silence was broken by a distant gunshot. The deciduous forests were losing their foliage, taking on that dull brown hue of late autumn, though here and there, a tree or shrub still resisted, displaying vivid yellow or red. The meadows, their grass already scorched by the cold, were damp from the night’s heavy humidity. The low sun highlighted thousands of spider webs that had trapped insects during the warm season.

Behind me, Mont Ventoux dominated these vast spaces. As often, its imposing, stony summit was crowned with a blanket of clouds. What an impressive mountain—it’s always so hard to gauge its dimensions. I struggled to realize that last night I’d been at the summit and descended its immense southern ridge in the dark. I hoped to return one day in favorable conditions—daylight and no clouds—to enjoy the vast panorama from this unique summit.

Leaving the very Provençal village of Trinit, I tackled my first climb of the day—the Col de l’Homme Mort. The road rose moderately for five kilometers in gentle warmth. The view over the region widened, and I felt the sheer joy of pedaling. At a good pace, I overcame this first little challenge. Once at the pass, I couldn’t resist the ritual of photographing my bike in front of the sign, giving the name and altitude—1,213 meters.

The northern slope was austere and still in shadow. The cold bit again. The road was wet and covered with leaves in places. It wasn’t impossible that some treacherous patches of black ice lurked around a bend. I descended toward the Jabron Valley with caution. Suddenly, around a bend in a forest clearing, the freshly snow-covered Alps, gleaming in the sun, leapt into view, blocking the horizon. I thought I recognized the distinctive silhouette of the Écrins’ south face above a multitude of jagged peaks.

This snow and these mountains awakened a flood of memories of great joys, but I also thought of the guide and his client who had just lost their lives on the Grandes Jorasses’ north face, at the top of a route called the Linceul. The name comes from the face’s appearance—a great ice slope bordering the Grandes Jorasses’ north wall. It was first climbed by René Desmaison in 1968. He passed away a few years ago and, in his final wishes, asked that his ashes be scattered in the Dévoluy Massif at the foot of Pic de Bure, not far from here in these immense pre-Alpine folds.

At my feet, the Jabron Valley stretched almost endlessly east toward Sisteron. In the distance, the dark mass of Montagne de Lure’s north face loomed. This mountain shares similarities with Mont Ventoux. It has the same summit scree of bright limestone, the same forests climbing up to the final rocky stretch, and that blanket of clouds adding a secretive, austere touch to the scene.

I turned left past the town of Séderon and headed toward the little Col de la Pigière, which in a few kilometers allowed me to truly plunge into the beautiful Jabron Valley. I passed through several villages with charming local names—Saint-Vincent, Noyer-sur-Jabron. The river offered lovely views of its narrow gorges with clear, cold water. Autumn seemed less advanced here than on the plateau I’d just left. Many trees still wore brilliant colors, some revealing extraordinary hues—mixes of crimson, pink, and bright red.

Arriving in Noyer-sur-Jabron, I took a tiny road on the river’s right bank, leading in a few kilometers to the foot of Montagne de Lure. In the village of Valbelle, I picnicked on leftovers I’d brought from home—an old cheese and a somewhat stale loaf of bread. It was 1:30 PM. I began the long climb of about 25 kilometers. According to a friend who’s a cycling expert in the region, this section is tough. No wonder it’s called Ventoux’s little sister—the Mont Blanc of cyclists. The elevation gain on this side is still 1,200 meters, while Ventoux via Malaucène is nearly 1,600 meters.

I hoped to reach the summit before nightfall and avoid reliving a nighttime descent. The route wound through a vast forest, following the terrain’s folds. There was activity—mushroom hunters were busy searching for the coveted chanterelle. The climb, though never very steep (only one kilometer at 9%), was interminable. Though traffic was practically nonexistent, I was overtaken by a group of Harley bikers—I counted about forty. Perched high on their machines, hands in the air on wildly shaped handlebars, some with their feet nearly in the sky due to the high footpegs, they didn’t even glance my way. What’s this idiot doing, unable to ride a motorcycle and forced to climb these mountains on a bike with big bags! I wasn’t offended—real Harley purists often see other motorcyclists as renegades, so bikes are even lower on the totem pole! But I didn’t want to start a debate about motorcycles. In my youth, when I was a wild motorcyclist (22 accidents on two wheels), clans were divided into Japanese, German, Italian, and British bike owners. The latter, on their vibrating, oil-leaking machines, considered themselves the purest. But let’s not fight—there’s a statute of limitations, and it’s been nearly forty years.

As yesterday, a few kilometers below the summit, I entered the fog, and the light dropped suddenly. What a hostile mountain in these conditions! It heightened the sense of living an incredible experience. The conditions we encounter play a major role in how the adventure imprints on our memory. I realized once again that in France, you can feel like you’re very far away. Finally, after this very long climb, the Pas de Graille sign suddenly appeared out of the grayness. Strange! Below the sign, a kilometer marker indicated this same pass was over three kilometers away. Clearly, the climb continued. In these final kilometers through the scree, I gained another 130 meters of elevation. Finally, the road’s high point was reached—1,720 meters. It was cold and damp. I quickly covered up, added my balaclava under my helmet, and put on warm gloves. As I was about to start the descent, a car stopped at the summit, and one of the passengers was surprised to find a bike there in these chilly, twilight conditions.

A 20-kilometer descent led me to the village of Saint-Étienne-les-Orgues. I hoped to find a place to stay for the night. No such luck! Everything was clearly closed—no chance of finding shelter. Tonight was getting complicated. I already had exactly 100 kilometers in my legs and didn’t feel like pedaling anymore, especially at night. But I had even less desire to sleep outside. What to do to avoid it? The town of Forcalquier was 16 kilometers away—I hoped the road would descend. I set off in that direction. The first third was along a beautiful, lightly trafficked departmental road with a slight downhill—I pedaled hard. But it got tougher. I joined a busier road, and night had fallen. A several-kilometer climb finished the journey. I knew my magnetic lights weren’t very powerful—hence the danger. They were even less so on the climb because the slower I went, the less they illuminated. Cars coming the opposite way often saw me late and blinded me with their high beams. After passing, I was plunged into total darkness for a few seconds while my pupils readjusted to the night. I imagined those coming up behind me saw me with little warning, despite my slightly fluorescent jacket. When the roadside was clear, I always positioned myself to quickly jump off the road. But unfortunately, in this long final climb, a guardrail prevented any escape to the right in case of sudden braking behind me. That was even more anxiety-inducing since I was stuck at a snail’s pace. Time seemed long. I pedaled as hard as I could, on the verge of asphyxiation, trying to escape this dangerous situation as quickly as possible. My only reference point was the vehicles in front of me, letting me know the climb wasn’t over. Then suddenly, the ordeal ended—the road’s high point was reached. The town and its lights emerged from the void, and clarity returned. Phew! I glided down toward this little town bathed in light. On November 11th, I hoped to find an open hotel since I’d clearly exceeded 100 kilometers, and the idea of having to leave town to find a bivouac spot somewhat frightened me.

I arrived in the town center. Activity was low. The first hotel was closed, but I spotted a lit sign for another establishment further on. I headed there, got off my bike, and entered. The welcome was immediately friendly—a big cat came to rub against me. For me, that was a very good sign, and the first impression was confirmed. I still had to go out to eat. I covered the minimum distance. A restaurant advertised "Mom’s Cooking." I expected Provençal specialties, but they were Moroccan. I chose a delicious tagine with lime and olives, followed by almond and honey ice cream. Exhausted after this 116-kilometer stage, I returned to my room. As often after intense efforts, it was hard to fall asleep.

Day Three: Forcalquier to Moustiers-Sainte-Marie – 58 km

On this third day, due to the progress made yesterday, the stage would be short. I’d call it a transition between two mountain ranges. Indeed, the next big climb is the Verdon Gorge. I planned to position myself at its foot this evening in preparation for a tough stage tomorrow. I made a few purchases—bread, bananas, and medicine for stomach burns (the midday sausage wasn’t always kind to me). The weather was still perfect. The route began with a long descent toward the Durance. It’s always nice to start a cycling day with a downhill—it boosts morale and allows for a gentle warm-up.

I quickly reached the town of Oraison. Just at its entrance, I crossed the Durance, which still bore traces of last week’s heavy rains along its sandbanks. Indeed, numerous stumps and trunks were scattered along its vast gravel bed, along with less ecological debris like old tires.

A little south of Oraison, I took the D907, a small road heading due east between scrubland and meadows. There it was—the Provence we imagine. This stable autumn weather, with still air, neither hot nor cold, just a fresh feeling when emerging from a shaded valley or a slight warmth under the sun, was ideal for a cyclist. After about ten kilometers at the bottom of a small valley I quickly passed through, the village of Le Brunet appeared on the right. It clung to the slopes leading to the Valensole Plateau. A few steep kilometers along a tiny winding road, and suddenly a vast panorama unfolded as the climb ended.

What a magnificent plateau! Though known for its wind, luckily today was completely calm. Far to the east, the Verdon’s great cliffs blocked the horizon. This allowed me to contemplate part of tomorrow’s stage. This place is full of mysteries—many UFO and extraterrestrial encounter stories are associated with it. Moreover, for about thirty years, France hid its ground-to-ground nuclear ballistic missiles here, grouped in the 1st GMS (Ballistic Missile Group), under the air force. Naturally, these rockets fueled fantasies, and pacifist groups settled in the region to protest this type of armament. This gives many reasons to shroud this austere, deserted land in mystery.

I took a dirt path leading to the heart of this zone and stopped at the forest’s edge for lunch. The silence was total, the view stretched very far. But nothing strange or bizarre manifested. No Martian came to share my frankly moldy cheese, very peppery sausage, or bruised banana—sniff! I resumed my route, and as often when crossing places with strong character, I tended to slow down to enjoy them longer. The immense lavender fields stretched endlessly, not very fragrant at this season. I arrived at a group of truffle oaks protected by a fence, with large red signs warning "Firearm." Clearly, the war for the black diamond was raging in this region. I remembered a novel where an old farmer made buyers believe nothing grew on his land. Every year, he secretly stole the mushrooms from the unsuspecting owners. Then one day, they discovered the truth, catching this "polite" neighbor trying to hide a basket full of beautiful, large truffles!

In these vast spaces, I felt good—a sense of plenitude. It’s strange that I only conceive of cycling through wandering. I struggle to plan a day trip. And if I do, it’s highly likely I won’t get up. I need that sense of adventure to fully appreciate my physical effort. Maybe one day I should get psychoanalyzed, but at my age, it’s probably too late! Today, I had all the time in the world—the stage was half as long as yesterday’s, with very little elevation gain. Not a sound, an impressive calm, a beautiful landscape—I pedaled in a wonderful place. That’s probably happiness!

I reached the village of Puimoisson on the plateau’s eastern edge—only 12 kilometers left to Moustiers. I took my time, sat at a café terrace in the sun, and leisurely enjoyed a coffee while listening to the village come to life. I was delighted by these melodious southern voices, bursting into great laughter. There are places where, despite the anxieties caused by our debt-ridden, dysfunctional societies, some have decided to take life on the bright side and show a saving insouciance.

The rest of the journey was a simple formality—I let the slope carry me toward the pretty little town of Moustiers-Sainte-Marie, clinging to the cliff and famous for its faïence. Arriving early for once, I went to the tourist office to choose a comfortable hotel. Indeed, the Hôtel des Restanques was very comfortable and admirably well-located. But at this time of year, I’d have to return to the village center for dinner. The very kind receptionist reserved a table for me at La Treille Muscate, a restaurant with a magnificently arranged room on the church square. It was only 3:30 PM—I continued to take my time, showering and relaxing in front of the TV. Then I set off to explore—or rather, re-explore—this village I’d visited several times before. But I’d never climbed to its chapel perched in the middle of the great cliff towering over the houses. A stony, aerial path led there. The first mentions of the Notre-Dame de Beauvoir chapel, known in ancient times as Notre-Dame d’Entre-Roches, date back to the 9th century. It’s one of the rare "respite" chapels found in Provence. These are chapels where stillborn children were brought to be revived for a few moments, just long enough to baptize them. They could then be buried religiously, ensuring the salvation of their souls. I was also very moved by reading some ex-votos, like the one from "A mother for her three children returned from the war."

The place was impressive, especially as night fell. I was alone and watched the shadows fill the great cliffs above me. With an old climber’s reflex, I looked for possible climbing routes among these slabs and cracks. But climbing is probably forbidden here, too close to the houses. Then I descended to stroll through the village, admiring the magnificent, finely crafted faïence patterns found in many shops. Finally, dinnertime arrived, and I joined my restaurant, which had been highly recommended. I was delighted by the foie gras ravioli and the pieds et paquets—the chef’s specialty. I’ll come back with family.

Day Four: Moustiers to Fréjus via the Verdon – 122 km

A hearty breakfast prepared me for the day’s tough efforts. Next to me, four Chinese people chatted animatedly. Of course, I didn’t understand a word—it was a language with strange intonations and sounds. I left the dining room and prepared my bike on the terrace. Seeing the volume of my luggage, my Chinese friends rushed over and asked to take turns having their photo taken in front of this funny setup. All laughing, they took photos in front of what they probably considered a French coolie off on some trading business! When they show these photos to their relatives, they’ll likely be perplexed about what motivates some to travel by bike rather than car. For them, the car is a symbol of success—according to an article I read last year, 14,000 cars are registered in China every day!

This morning, the air was fresh. As yesterday, I started with a long descent, this time leading to the edge of Lac de Sainte-Croix. A strong, biting headwind slowed me down. It wouldn’t last, as it was generated by the gorge’s outlet, which I’d reach in a few kilometers. On this cold morning, the lake’s shores exuded great tranquility. The sun was still hidden behind the Verdon’s mountainous mass. Trees with yellow leaves stood out against the water’s pale blue. The bridge marking the gorge’s beginning at the lake’s edge was an ideal spot to admire this natural splendor. At this early hour, the play of light and shadow on the water and the immense cliffs delivered a grandiose spectacle in beautiful harmony. This first contact with the gorges, which I knew well, amazed me.

Once past the bridge, the wind calmed. A little further on, I began the long climb that would take me to the top of this immense natural gash, which water had taken millions of years to carve. I was in good shape and highly motivated by the splendors to come. First, I reached the village of Aiguines, which offered a magnificent viewpoint over the lake. Then I continued toward the Corniche Sublime, where countless breathtaking panoramas unfolded as I progressed. But the climb was sustained and long, requiring effort—though my small chainring worked miracles. I first passed the Col d’Illoire, already 500 meters above the lake. Seeing all these great cliffs, countless climbing memories came flooding back. The classic routes of the Escalès cliff, over 300 meters high, flashed by. Routes with legendary names—La Demande, Les Écureuils, Luna-Bong, and many others. The one that left me with the best memory was ULA—a crack, vertical or even overhanging, of sheer beauty rising above a 40-meter slab in one go for 280 meters of sustained, beautiful climbing on extraordinary rock. It made me want to return to climb there, to immerse myself in the atmosphere of those past times. But climbing habits have changed—now routes are accessed from above by rappel, and people don’t always bother to do these great climbs in their entirety, focusing instead on shorter but technically much more difficult enterprises.

At almost every bend, I stopped and scanned these great cliffs, searching for memories of past experiences and emotions in these secret rock folds. The road climbed well above the pass, exceeding 1,200 meters. It was cool, especially since I was sweating. Finally reaching the high point of the Corniche Sublime, I couldn’t gain speed on the descent—my gaze was always drawn to this astonishing canyon. Around a bend, two cyclists with funny small-wheeled bikes. Wow! It was a couple of Australians doing a year-long tour of France. We chatted passionately about our two-wheeled experiences for a moment. But time was passing, and if I wanted to reach Fréjus before nightfall, I’d have to pedal seriously.

I stopped at the Pont de l’Artuby, where bungee jumping was in full swing. But I quickly set off again toward Comps. The wind was against me, and it was climbing. I started to doubt whether I’d make it to the coast that evening. At 2 PM, I was in Comps-sur-Artuby. I didn’t stop, knowing that before reaching the coast, I’d have no alternative to bivouacking, and I had 70 kilometers left to cover. Sure, it should be downhill, but a few climbs were on the program. After a descent out of the village, I crossed the Artuby River again on the Canjuers military camp. A several-kilometer climb followed, fortunately not too steep. I took the D19 toward Barjols. From there, despite the late hour, I opted for a tiny road passing through Claviers, a small perched village. Time passed quickly, but the kilometers added up. I regained hope. Fifteen kilometers after this last village, I reached Saint-Paul-en-Forêt via a magnificent forested route. I had plenty of time to observe mushroom hunters. I asked one who clearly had some in a plastic bag. He gave me this hilarious answer with a magnificent southern accent: "I only picked the bad ones." No reply was possible. I moved on with a smile. A little further on, another hunter carried a basket. As soon as he saw me, he quickly hid it—just in case I saw what it contained. Arriving at the village involved a steep climb, and I was close to 100 kilometers. I still had a little over 20 kilometers to go before reaching Fréjus. The race against nightfall had begun. Over there to my right, I saw the sun setting behind Roquebrune-sur-Argens’ distinctive rock. The sea appeared. There it was—I was in Fréjus’ industrial zone. On this Sunday evening, traffic was heavy. Indeed, many had taken advantage of the return of good weather after very heavy storms to go for a walk. After quite a few detours, I arrived at the seaside just as night fell. My odometer showed 122 km for the day. I quickly found a simple hotel, ate just as quickly, and went to bed.

Day Five: Fréjus to Solliès-Pont – 92 km

Once again, the night had done its restorative work, and I prepared to cross the Massif des Maures feeling quite fresh. The weather forecast was still favorable for today, but a deterioration was expected tomorrow. I tended to trust it because the east wind was blowing, and in the region, that’s a sign of rain. For now, in the short term, this wind would be very useful—it would push me generously throughout the day.

I started calmly along the harbor quays, looking at the boats. Then I joined the road to Saint-Aygulf and followed the coast for forty kilometers to Port-Grimaud. All these seaside resorts—Saint-Aygulf, Les Issambres, Sainte-Maxime—reminded me of my youth when we spent all our vacations fishing, whether from shore, underwater, or by boat. Looking at the sea roll by, I knew what the seabeds looked like under that surface hiding them. The marine areas we knew best were now under the parking lots and commercial zones of Saint-Raphaël’s new port. In our youth, these infrastructures didn’t exist, and their construction came at the expense of coastal marine areas. Our wonderful fishing spots were permanently buried. I remember seeing the first big trucks that came to dump their loads of earth and rubble, destroying all those wonderful places—sandbanks, seaweed beds, groups of rocky holes teeming with fish that enchanted our youth. Over forty years later, I can still visualize them in my imagination under those parking lots and stores, with the names we gave them—my brothers and I: le casse-croûte, le casse-pipe, les montagnes, la digue, la grille, la mare à mulets, la petite-plage, le trou, etc.

Let’s not be overwhelmed by nostalgia. I left the coast and took the little road through the Maures to Collobrières. The route led from ridge to ridge following the terrain’s movements. At this time of year, the region was admirable. Due to the heavy storms of recent weeks, water was streaming everywhere. Waterfalls and streams murmured all along the way. I didn’t recognize the Maures, which I knew for their dryness causing apocalyptic fires. Indeed, around a bend, I came across a small rest area where a memorial had been erected for three firefighters who lost their lives here while fighting one of those gigantic fires fanned by the mistral.

This forest holds treasures—first, the cork oak, then the arbutus, chestnut trees, and of course, mushrooms that love this granitic soil:

The cork oak can be found all along the road. It’s the forest’s essential element. You can recognize it by its light bark (before exploitation), which forms large bulges along the trunk. But after exploitation, the trunks are much smoother, less voluminous, and dark in color. The arbutus is a large berry with red skin covered in small protuberances, growing on the arbutus tree. This fruit, common in Mediterranean areas, ripens in November. That means today, there were plenty around me. Its flesh is orange, with the consistency of firm purée, and it crushes softly in the mouth. The taste of this berry is sweet and excellent. I didn’t hold back—I gorged myself on them, which served as my midday meal. Sometimes I had to climb embankments to get them.

The chestnut tree, a true industry of the region, brings wealth to the surrounding villages. They make candied chestnuts, ice cream, and other products derived from chestnut flour. Be careful not to stop just anywhere to pick this fruit, as the tree owners might not agree. They even make this clear with signs and surround their chestnut trees with fences. Mushrooms—saffron milk caps and porcini—are highly prized in the area. I saw a few hunters, but it clearly wasn’t miraculous. Supposedly, there had been too much rain?

There’s no time to get bored along this little road, from which you can sometimes see the sea. I passed the Col de Taillude at over 400 meters. I began the descent to Collobrières, the chestnut capital, whose festival attracts many people. Before entering, about a hundred meters from the first houses, a cyclist—probably an agricultural worker—came toward me. As he passed, he cheerfully called out, "Go on, little guy! It’s almost there!" We both smiled. At the end of November, the village was cold and almost deserted. Dead leaves swept the wet streets of the town. You could feel winter on the way. I continued my route to Pierrefeu-du-Var, on the western edge of the Massif des Maures. So I gave my last pedal strokes in this pretty little massif so characteristic of Provence.

I looked for a hotel in Cuers but without success. I descended toward Toulon and finally found one on the outskirts of Solliès-Pont. It catered to people coming to work in the region, so nothing very bucolic. But if the weather were to deteriorate tomorrow and turn to rain, I could quickly reach Hyères or Toulon station, which was a significant advantage. Indeed, November rains aren’t usually very pleasant on a bike.

Day Six: Solliès-Pont to Cassis via Sainte-Baume – 85 km

This morning, contrary to the weather forecast, the weather was beautiful, and the latest bulletin seemed to contradict yesterday’s. So no escape to Toulon—I resumed my route toward Sainte-Baume. I left the hotel via a tiny road that, through ups and downs, led me via shortcuts to the road to Belgentier. My body had gotten used to intense daily efforts, and I felt in Olympic form. At a good pace, I launched into a long climb with a moderate slope. The road was busy, but fortunately, the side lane for cyclists often made the exercise more pleasant. The villages rolled by—Méounes, La Roquebrussanne. Near the latter, I observed a Tiger combat helicopter in training. It hovered motionless for long periods—perhaps the pilots were training to master their increasingly sophisticated weapon systems, requiring even more learning?

I left the busy road and headed via an almost deserted route toward the village of Mazaugues. The climbs became steeper. A long descent, and there I was in this pretty village. A grocery store, which besides selling a few ingredients also served as a café. I sat near the electric heater—it was cold, and I was sweaty. I watched customers come and go and listened to the shopkeeper tell me about village life. The name Mazaugues comes from "water mass," which is why drought doesn’t usually affect this area. Apparently, you can even find mushrooms here in summer! I had a good time, and as I was leaving, a local cyclist started a conversation and told me about her dreams of long bike trips, currently limited by her situation as a mother of terrible children. She settled for day trips with her club, which was already good in this very hilly region. I told her the story of a man who, at 73, cycled solo around Morocco. So no panic—she still had thirty or forty years to realize her wildest dreams!

I was warned that it would be a tough climb to reach Sainte-Baume’s northern slope. Indeed, over eight kilometers, the average slope was sustained, but the landscape was wonderful. Here too, water was streaming everywhere. I passed one of those famous icehouses that used to supply Marseille with ice throughout the year. This northern slope of Sainte-Baume is very cold, and this characteristic was exploited in previous centuries to produce ice. Large cylindrical structures, well-protected to the north and semi-buried, received large quantities of water in late autumn, which froze during winter and was kept cool for months until the following winter. Ice blocks were cut and delivered by cart to the city. That’s how, in ancient times, ice was available in summer to keep fish fresh in Marseille. Did pastis exist at that time? If not, the ice cubes must have been bored!

Once the climb was over, the long ridge of Sainte-Baume appeared, and I could see its characteristic antennas. Nestled at the foot of the cliffs, the magnificent millennial forest revealed itself with its autumn colors. I stopped at the monastery. I’d been there several times before and had even slept there during a long walking trip. The welcome had been first-rate by the Dominicans, especially the sisters in their long immaculate robes. They radiated a serenity that was very contagious. Don’t hesitate to stop there for the night. I struggled to get back on my way—some places have a special spirit.

I was soon at the end of my journey. I continued along this magnificent mountain to the Col de l’Espigoulier. To the north, another immense wave of white limestone rose—Montagne Sainte-Victoire, a high place in Provence that painter Cézanne made world-famous. Once at the pass, the entire city of Marseille spread out at my feet, the Mediterranean coast revealed itself from the Calanques to La Ciotat, passing by the famous Cap Canaille, Europe’s highest sea cliff. Above me, bathed in sunlight, Bartagne’s northwest face, very popular among climbers, showed all its reliefs. With an old climber’s reflex, I spotted the many climbs I’d done there. I let myself be carried into a steep, winding descent toward the village of Gémenos in a beautiful setting full of cliffs.

A few more kilometers of climbing toward the Col de l’Ange, then toward Roquefort-la-Bédoule. In this last climb, I raced with two cyclists, admittedly not very young. Then, in a six-kilometer descent, I reached Cassis station, the endpoint of my six-day journey through this wild Provençal land between sea and mountain. I experienced great pleasure during these 570 kilometers through these renowned yet wild French massifs. As always, when a beautiful project comes to an end, you feel a bit orphaned by a beautiful dream come true. You have to quickly envision the next one to avoid a vague sense of emptiness taking over. My next adventure is already taking shape in my mind, but that’s another story.

Hello everyone, the program for the Itinérance Travel Festival in Cornimont is finalized. Over four days, conferences will take place from 11:00 AM to 12:00 PM, 2:00 PM to 7:00 PM, and from 8:30 PM to 9:00 PM on May 8, 9, and 10. On May 11, the schedule is 11:00 AM to 12:00 PM and 2:00 PM to 5:30 PM. The event will be held at the multi-activity hall, 16 rue des Grands Meix, Cornimont 88310.

The speakers will share their experiences traveling by bike, on foot, and also in mountaineering.

Cornimont can be reached via a 25-kilometer cycling path from Remiremont train station, which is very well connected.

Photo exhibitions will be displayed on the following themes:

The Abruzzo region Wildlife of the Vosges The road workers of the Himalayas Faces of the world: photos taken during an 8-year walk around the Earth The photo series by the Cyclo Camping International association

On the mornings of May 9, 10, and 11, meet-ups will be organized at scenic high points around Cornimont for intuitive music performances and readings of excerpts from long-term travelers' books, particularly by Caroline Moireaux (you can easily find her website). The meet-ups start at 6:15 AM, with returns no later than 10:00 AM.

Admission is free. Don’t hesitate to contact the Cornimont tourist office for all practical details. By phone at +33 3 29 24 12 17 or via their website, which you can easily find online.

Hope to see many of you there!

Feel free to reach out to me in this thread if you have any questions. Luc

Now that the curtain has fallen on the past year, it’s time to see what’s happening around here. It seems pretty quiet, but I’ll read more in detail later.

First, I need to tell you all an anecdote.

My eldest little girl, in her third year of law school, was really scared she wouldn’t pass the year. I told her: “Trust yourself, you’ve worked so hard, and worst case, if you fail, you’ll just redo the year.” “But I don’t think I’ll make it—they changed the rules, and if I mess up even one unit, I have to start all over.” I knew her grades weren’t exactly stellar, and with what I was about to say, I wasn’t taking much of a risk. “Here’s the deal, sweetheart: if you pass, I promise I’ll take you to India, just the two of us.” I have to admit, India is a country I’ve talked about so much to all my grandchildren that in their minds, it’s become a magical, mythical place (hmm).

July had barely begun when my phone rang, her name flashing on the screen. “Mamido, I did it!” My promise came rushing back—oh no, oh no, oh no! “Congratulations, sweetheart!” A little shyly, she said: “Is the India trip still on?”

And me, replying: “Of course it is!”

And that’s that—a promise is a promise, or you risk losing that precious trust that keeps hearts warm and at peace.

We’re leaving in February. Only 8 days—yikes, the carbon footprint! But we can’t miss her tutorials, or she’ll be kicked out. Personally, that works just fine for me.

Going to India has become a challenge for me. It’s far, it’s exhausting, I sweat, I hate mosquitoes, the spices bother my mouth when I used to love them. There’s noise all the time—at night, the dogs bark nonstop, and we almost get run over. I’ll get lost in the streets because my sense of direction has vanished. I don’t like rice anymore. All that chaos and those cultural differences that once enchanted me now just overwhelm me. But I promised.

The upside—and it’s a big one—Raman, the same driver I’ve had forever, will be at the airport with a sign with our names. We’ll stop at the same little shop for chai (or tea, plain and simple) with that aroma that intoxicates me, halfway through the trip.

It’ll be a tiny trip—staying with friends, I’ll show her a few places I love: Chidambaram, Mamallapuram, and the clinic where I worked. Then we’ll head back. My little girl will go home to her parents.

As for me, I’ll leave right away for our Scottish island with Homme for our chilly winter.

How can you love a country so much you want to live there, then suddenly reject it, no longer able to appreciate what once made it special? That’s the mystery of love, I guess.

Hello everyone,

It’s something we often notice in this forum—and many others—this behavioral shift.

A long-time member, or even a new one, asks a question. They get one or more answers, some brief, some detailed, and then... nothing???

Not even a simple thank you!!!

From what I’ve gathered, if the answers don’t align with what they wanted to hear, it seems natural for the asker to just disappear!! 😕 Unless—(and I fear this is the case)—basic politeness is no longer part of our society????

Please forgive my little rant.

Wishing everyone all the best. Cheers,

Puma2A



...

Itinérance Festival in Cornimont, Vosges, will return from April 24 to 26, 2026. The success of the 2025 edition confirmed the desire to continue the adventure.

Dedicated to human-powered travel, this year’s festival will feature a smaller but highly complementary lineup of speakers. A single guest may discuss bike or foot journeys, long-distance trekking across major European or remote mountain ranges, or even mountaineering. The sea will also be a key theme.

Most speakers are travel writers, and storytelling will take center stage—especially with Pierre Herant, a sought-after author among publishers. Among the standout topics, resilience in the face of illness will be explored through Alexandra Husta’s epic cycling journeys. Extreme travel will also be highlighted, driven by Blandine Dupuis’s physical and moral commitment. Hugo Faivre is biking across France to meet bears in the Pyrenees. Luc Devors will delve into the bonds formed with companions during demanding projects, while Julien Humbert will discuss the challenges of leaving home and being away for years. Sailors Gilles Jaulet will share his sailing experiences, and Guy Lecointre will recount his solo sea-kayak expedition to Cape Horn with total autonomy. All speakers will also share their solo travel experiences.

A special family session on Friday afternoon will let kids ask questions and chat freely with the speakers. Photographic exhibitions will round out the program, including one on Vosges mountain wildlife by a Cornimont native, whose close connection with wild animals is striking.

True to the 2025 edition, sunrise hikes will return on Saturday, April 25, and Sunday, April 26, to the town’s high points. These unique moments will combine landscape discovery—guided by a local expert—with readings from works by attending travel writers.

Cornimont’s town hall will provide its spacious polyactivity center, and admission will remain free, as in 2025. The association Cook’ Events Services, led by Nadège Perrier, will run the bar and catering, with proceeds supporting initiatives for people with disabilities.

Whether scaling rock faces, thriving on trails, hitting the road, or sailing the seas, the festival’s celebration of travel reminds us that age is never a barrier to exploring our world.

Salut la communauté ! Préparant actuellement un voyage (ah bon ???) a vélo je me posais une petite question (grosse en fait). Je compte faire en moyenne 115km par jour avec environ 1100m de dénivelé, en moyenne. Est ce extravagant ?? Sachant que je fait pas mal de VTT mais que je n'ai jamais fait de vélo de route. Et que j'aurais environ 20kg de bagages. Devrais je baisser mes distances journalières ? Combien de mois avant le départ s'entraîner ? Merci de vos (précieuses) réponses. Ps: j'aurais 18 ans au moment du voyage. Encore merci !!!

Nous préparons un voyage en Australie pour l’été 2015 (juillet aout) en famille avec 2 ados. Nous y avons déjà passé l’été 2004 (5 semaines) avec une arrivée à Darwin, visite du kakadu puis une descente jusqu’au centre rouge. Equipés à l’époque d’une très grande famille (6 enfants de 3,6,13 14 15 et 17 ans) 🤪 nous avions loué un camping car ET une voiture : les plus jeunes dormaient dans le camping car et les grands sous la tente. Ensuite nous avions fait Cairn, barrière de corail etc et un final par Fraser Island que nous avions adoré. Etant donné l’âge des enfants, leur nombre, la saison et l’option camping imposée par le nombre (ben oui plus y a de fous plus l’hôtel coute cher ! ) nous nous étions limités à au quart nord est. Ce fut parfait… des souvenirs extraordinaires ! Jamais eu le temps ni le courage de terminer de taper à l’ordi le journal de bord alors tenu par les enfants pour le mettre en ligne… pourtant…😐 L’année prochaine nous ne partirons qu’avec les 2 plus jeunes (13 et 16 ans).😉 Les grands devenus adultes ont chopé le virus et voyagent maintenant au gré de leurs envies… mais plus tellement avec nous ! Pour l’année prochaine voici ce que nous avons prévu : 1 Arrivée à Perth puis remontée jusqu’à Darwin par la cote ouest et le Kimberley 2 visite Perth 3 Perth YantchepCervantes 4 route pour Kalbarri 5 parc Kalbarri 6 trajet pour SharkBay 7 François perron national park 8 François perron national park 9 Route pour Coral bay 10 Coral bay 11 Exmouth 12 Exmouth 13 Exmouth 14 route pour Karijini 15 Karijini 16 Karijini 17 Route de karijini à broome 18 Fin de route vers Broome 19 Broome Windjana Gorge 20 Mt Barnett Station 21 Geikie Gorge 22 Purnululu National Park BungleBungles 23 Purnululu 24 Purnululu 25 Kununurra 26 Lake Argyle 27 El Questro Wilderness Park 28 Route pour Darwin 2 le centre rouge 29 Vol darwin alice spring 30 Journee alice spring 31 Depart pour yulara 32 Uluru 33 Uluru 34 Yulara vers Kata Tjuta National Park 35 kings canyon 36 Mereenie loop pour aller Western Macdonnel 37 Mac donnels alice spring 38 Vol Alice Spring Brisbane 3 l’est 39 Route pour Bundaberg ou Gladstone 40/41 2 jours à Heron island ou lady Elliot island 42 Retour hervey bay 4 jours Fraser Island Retour Brisbane et vol retour France

Nos choix : Ce sera toujours l’hiver dans le sud, et on est toujours plutôt brousse que ville donc cette fois encore on fait l’impasse sur le sud est. On préfère passer du temps sur la cote ouest pour voir du poisson que de retourner sur la grande barrière. C’est plus accessible nous semble-t-il. On a envie de faire le Kimberley, de retourner dans le centre rouge et de refaire fraser island. Maintenant les questions : - l’itinéraire sur la cote ouest + kimberley semble-t-il réaliste à ceux qui l’ont déjà fait. Nous l’avons prévu en 4 semaines. On compte louer un 4/4 et camper. Donc on ne roulera pas vite et surtout il peut y avoir de l’inertie au démarrage car l’itinérance en camping avec des ados c’est beaucoup de logistique qui se répète… et ce sont les vacances quand même… et ce sont des ados !😉 - Heron island ou lady Elliot island ? quelqu’un connait ? ça vaut le coup ? quelqu’un connait-il un autre endroit pour se poser 2 jours après tout ça ? et sans trop s’éloigner : on atterrit à Brisbane, on veut faire fraser island, on veut plus trop rouler car on en aura déjà fait tellement des kilomètres, et on voudrait un tout petit peu plus de confort pour se finir.😎 D’autres questions viendront… on a encore beaucoup de temps pour peaufiner, modifier, améliorer… merci à ceux qui répondront.

La définition de ''voyager'' n'a pas l'air d'avoir la même signification pour la majorité des Québécois et les Européens.

Je m'explique : lorsque je parcours les forums ou que je lis les profils, je constate que pour beaucoup de Québécois, la notion de voyager signifie les Tout-inclus situé directement sur la plage sur une île du sud, alors que les récits des Européens sont plutôt du genre aventuriers, explorateurs et sur une période plus longue (ce n'est pas rare de lire qu'un Européen est parti pour une période de plus de 3 mois pour un voyage, destination dont je ne connaissais même pas l'existance).

Ou se situe la différence, je veux dire pourquoi avons-nous une notion si éloignée lorsqu'on parle de voyage?

Les Québécois semblent confondre les voyages avec les vacances. Pourquoi? Est-ce parce que nous avons peu de congé par rapport avec les Européens (à les lire, ils travaillent 1 semaine par année lol) alors que nous n'avons, pour la plupart, que 2 semaines durant l'été et 2 semaines durant l'hiver? Ou sommes-nous carrément pantouflards et ''Américanisés''? Les Québécois ont si peu envie de découvrir, à part de voir les plages et d'en comparer la couleur avec la plage précédente (je ne ris pas, dans ma famille ils font ça : ils ne jurent que par la couleur du sable!!)

Je me pose cette question car lorsque je lis des gens qui écrivent : J'ai voyagé dans tel et tel tout-inclus... pour moi cette personne n'a pas voyagé réellement, elle a pris des vacances. Il n'y a que moi que ça agace? C'est vrai que j'ai un vilain défaut : j'aime les gens précis lol

Ceci dit, je ne veux insulter personne (j'ai moi même déjà pris des vacances dans un tout inclus à Cuba)... ça reste une légère réflexion sans conséquence ;)

La prochaine Soirée Trek aura lieu le mardi 10 Janvier 2017. Bonne résolution pour se dégourdir les jambes après les fêtes et/ou à la recherche d'une future destination : Stéphane nous présentera une itinérance dans le Parc des Tatras, en Pologne.

Les rencontres "Soirées Trek" sont un rendez-vous pour se retrouver entre marcheurs et futur-marcheurs autour d'un verre, d'un repas. Randonneurs, trekkeurs, mul ou mulet, que ce soit en solo, en groupe ou par agence, tous les marcheurs sont les bienvenus pour venir partager leurs expériences, découvrir de nouvelles destinations, échanger des informations, trouver des équipiers... Ou tout simplement passer une bonne soirée.

Ce rendez-vous mensuel, animé par des amoureux de la marche, vous est proposé gratuitement. Néanmoins, nous vous demandons la consommation d'un repas au bar-restaurant qui nous accueille (Prix moyen d'une soirée : 15,00 à 25,00 €)

Les Soirées Trek ont lieu à partir de 19h30 au restaurant : Zango 36 rue de Gand Lille

Les inscriptions sont ouvertes !

A bientôt, les Soirées Trek www.lessoireestrek.org

Rencontre limitée à 20 personnes. Merci à ceux qui ne pourraient plus venir une fois inscrit de nous prévenir afin de libérer votre place. Si vous souhaitez faire partager l'un de vos treks à une prochaine soirée, n'hésitez pas à nous contacter en privé.

Bonjour, Nous partons en Thailande dans une semaine - svp nous aimerions avoir un aperçu de la situation à Bangkok. Nous lisons beaucoup sur le sujet sur différents sites d'information et l'avertissement de notre Ambassade est de ne pas prendre part aux manifestations. Vu d'ici ça va mais vu de Bangkok, c'est comment? Est-ce qu'il y a des voyageurs ou des locaux qui peuvent nous éclairer de la situation.

Vous faites une excursion dans ce pays magnifique, c'est l'été, le soleil se couche plus tard (C'est le piège car la côte devient encore plus belle), vous oubliez les horaires; vous restez un peu plus longtemps sur la plage; ou le bateau de votre excursion rentre tard..... A un moment donné Il faut se résoudre à aller diner! Vous allez recevoir la punition de votre manque de vigilance : La plupart des restaurateurs vous annonceront parfois à 21:00 ou plus surement à 21:30 "On ne sert plus" ou "On a tout éteint" Comme s'il s'agissait d'une procédure compliquée de rallumer comme pour un haut fourneau. Une fois on nous a refusé un Croque Monsieur car le cuisinier était parti!

Autre cas de figure: Le Dimanche soir ou le Lundi sont des jours maudits; tout est fermé! Il m'est arrivé de trouver 4 restaurants fermés dans le Pays des Abers!

Dernier cas de figure: Les mois hors saisons de Mai, Juin, Septembre, Octobre; il fait encore beau, la clientèle est là: Retraités français, Etrangers fuyant la foule. Vous voyez tout ce petit monde errer de restaurant fermé en restaurant fermé.

Alors si vous ne vivez pas en gite ou en camping car pour cuisiner, vous allez vous rabattre sur les MacDo, les camions à pizza....Dur, dur quand on on pense au plat de langoustines que vous auriez pu avoir dans un restaurant classique.

Je n'ai jamais ressenti dans d'autres provinces françaises ce comportement borné et donc cette inhospitalité. Bien sûr dans les grandes stations bretonnes des restaurants restent ouverts tard. Dans les petites villes bretonnes il peut y avoir des exceptions: Un restaurant peut rester ouvert tard; on constate alors qu'il concentre la clientèle et la vie nocturne. En Grande Bretagne, dans les pubs on vous réchauffe un plat au micro onde à toute heure.

Pourtant la clientèle existe. Les Offices de Tourisme de Bretagne font un travail remarquable en mettant en avant des animations, des activités multiples, des festivals, des brochures très belles. A quoi cela rime si vous ne pouvez pas vous restaurer le soir. Ils devraient éditer la carte des MacDo.

Bonjour,

Le fil précédent de cette discussion étant arrivé à saturation, nous vous proposons de continuer celle-ci ici.

L'équipe VoyageForum

Bonjour tout le monde.

Afin de comprendre ce pays, pour que les voyageur comme moi soit préparé, je vous propose de nous donner tout les différence qu'il y a entre la France et Etats Unis.

Ce que vous aimez et ce que vous n'aimez pas. Les différences culturelles, les différence de mentalité, les différence administratifs pour les long voyages. Ce qu'il faut éviter de faire et que l'on fait en France.

Et bien d'autres choses qui vous passe par la tête, car comme dit Nicolas Hulot, la connaissance et le premier pas vers le respect.

Voyager pourquoi?

1- Pour quitter ce pays

Pour ma part, je commence vraiment à prendre la France et les francais en grippe.....En effet, ce pays me gonfle de part ce conformisme, ce conservatisme et cet immobilisme qui l'habite, cette impossibilité de se renouveler et de changer les choses.....on baigne dans une consommation outrancière et une société d'apparat ou les gens te jugent en fonction de ta catégorie socio professionnelle....dans qu'elle case vont-ils pouvoir te mettre !!!! Donc tu n'existes pas pour ce que tu es mais bien plus pour ce que tu représente.... Alors moi j'ai décidé de ne faire partie d'aucune case..... Les francais m'emmerdent, je les trouve BOF...je n'ai plus rien à voir avec mes potes (de longues date pourtant..) qui ne me parlent que de leurs gamins, des couches, des bib, et leur SACRO SAINT boulot!!!! PASSIONANT!!!! D'ailleurs il suffit de voir la réputation que l'on a à l'étranger.....de gens désagréables, jamais contents, agréssifs qui font toujours la geule.....il faudra écrire un post là dessus!!! Je m'emmerde royal ici. Je part m'expatrier l'année prochaine en amérique centrale, ou je trouve les gens nettement plus ouverts, tolérants, AGREABLE..... Les voyages, c'est tellement passionant...une vraie quète intérieure pour ma part, c'est ma raison de vivre. Sans voyage, je meurt. On découvre tellement de choses, de gens, on fait des rencontres extraordinaires, ca nous remet en place quelques fois et ca fait du bien, c'est ce que je veux...être remise à ma place. Apprendre à relativiser, apprendre à comprendre les différences, la nature humaine dans toute sa complexité, diversité....expériences humaines qui te mènent vers une autre dimension: celle où tu es à la source, à l'essentiel. Un voyage c'est avant tout quelque chose de vrai ou tu es tout nu face au monde...tu es toi et non pas le directeur d'entreprise, la secrétaire, le commercial.....En voyage tu ne peux pas te mentir à toi même, tu ne peux pas mentir non plus. C'est toi face au monde. Et lorsque les rencontres sont là au rendez vous, alors là tu sais que ces moments magiques sont d'une intense vérité car tu auras était toi même et tu auras été apprécié pour ce que tu es réellement au plus profond de toi....et ca n'a pas de prix.

Et vous aimez vous votre pays?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Bonjour à Tous,

Comme nombreux d’entre vous ici, je prépare un Tour du Monde, en lisant les différents forums, je constate que nous sommes vraiment beaucoup à partir dans les 12 prochains mois, alors ce serait sympa de recenser tous les projets de tour du monde en préparation, en donnant quelques infos,

Je me lance :

Dates de départ...................................env 15 janvier 2006 Nombres de mois, années....................env 2 ans En solo, duo, voir plus ........................solo Continent par ordre de passage ..........Asie, Océanie, Amérique du Sud et Centrale, Afrique Premier pays ......................................Inde Dernier pays ......................................Israel Nombre de vols prévus ......................entre 12 et 20 Site Web de votre tour .......................oui en construction

Et le LIEU incontournable de votre tour : ( si vous arrivez à répondre )

Voila pour moi, j’attend vos merveilleux projets ....

Mpolo57

« Il arriva à la croisée de 2 chemins, et là il décida d’aller là où il n’allait pas «

I'm currently converting a DAF/HEULIEZ MB205 bus.

Cheaper and more spacious than a regular vehicle, the paperwork (in France) isn't too difficult for approval.

I'm ready to help anyone who wants to tackle this kind of project. Those who know, help those who want to....

Bonjour, Nous partons 3 semaines au Maroc du 9 au 30 juin: 2 adultes et un bébé de 6 mois. Nous ferions (dans le désordre): - Marrakesh (3j) - le Haut Atlas (logement à Ouirgane, 4j). - Féz (2j) - j'hésite entre 2 options: - visiter la région de Ourzazate, Dadès, ... mais j'ai peur qu'il fasse chaud en juin pour bébé. - monter dans le nord vers Chefchouan et se promener dans le Rif... - qq jours à la plage: soit dans le nord vers Tetouan (Martil par ex.) ou alors Essaouira ou Oualidia...

Quel est le meilleur itinéraire selon vous (en tenant compte de la chaleur pour bébé)? Merci por votre aide et pour vos bons plans😛

Bonjour,

Nous aimerions partir au Québec cet été du 29 juin au 16 juillet. Seront du voyage avec nous, nos deux enfants âgés respectivement de 10 et 12 ans. Apres recherches, nous avons définis notre itinéraire, mais impossible de trouver un certain nombre de renseignements. Du coup, si vous avez déjà fait ce périple, ça serait gentil de nous renseigner sur ces deux trois points :

Ou dormir au Mille Iles à Gananoque ou Kingston ? Connaissez-vous des motels ou B&B sympas et pas trop chers dans le coin ?

Je me demandais en dehors des Mille Iles, au parc national de la Maurice, et au parc national de Saguenay (pour les fiords), y a-t-il un autre endroit où aller ?

En dehors du Zoo de St Félicien au Lac St Jean qui est un peu loin, y a-t-il un autre Zoo à faire sur notre par contre ?

Faut-il rester plus longtemps à Montréal qu'un jours 1/2 ?

Et pour finir sur la route de Charlevoix quels sont les sites à ne pas manquer ?

Merci pour toutes vos réponses !! Si vous avez des suggestions à me faire n'hésitez surtout pas, je suis un peu perdu dans ce vaste pays qu’est le Quebec...

Du 29 juin au 1 juillet Montréal Du 1 juillet au 3 Milles Iles Du 3 au 5 Ottawa Du 5 au 8 parc de la Maurice Du 8 au 9 Tadoussac Du 9 au 11 Saguenay Du 11 au 13 Charlevoix, mais où ? Du 13 au 16 Quebec

Merci pour tous !!!!!!!!!

Hi everyone, I’m a die-hard fan of India, but it’s time I discovered Thailand too to broaden my Asian horizons. I’m heading there on January 19, 2025, for a 46-day trip (no visa needed as I’m French). I’ve pored over a few guidebooks and travel blogs. Based on what caught my interest, I’ve put together a rough itinerary and list of sights. But since I know absolutely nothing about Thailand, I’m kind of flying blind here. Since I’m not exactly a spring chicken anymore, I’ve opted for a few bases where I’ll stay several days in the same place. That way, I won’t have to change locations and hotels every day or so, packing and unpacking my suitcase constantly. Instead, I plan to explore the surrounding area each day, within a maximum radius of 50 to 70 km. So, first question: Is that kind of round-trip distance manageable in a day in Thailand? In India, renting a car for a day—with a driver—currently costs around 35 to 40 € per day. Knowing that 1,300 to 1,500 THB would be my absolute max, and even then, only if I don’t rent a car every single day. Which brings me to my second question: Am I being unrealistic? Otherwise—third question—once I’m settled in the city I’ve chosen as my base, can I get around within that 50–70 km radius using public transport? I’ve already booked all my hotels—with free cancellation—on booking.com at an average price of 950/1,000 THB per night. Does that put me in a good range for value for money? Or am I dreaming?

Here’s my plan:

BANGKOK (13 days, 14 nights): 1 week for exploring Bangkok – Kanchanaburi/Erawan National Park? – Ayutthaya/Lopburi? – Muang Boran – Samut – Songkram/Amphawa

Bangkok -> Chiang Mai by overnight train in first-class sleeper

CHIANG MAI (6 days/6 nights): Mae Hong Son – Hot springs – Chiang Dao – caves – Lamphun – other places to be decided on the spot based on what’s worth seeing and transport options

Chiang Mai -> Chiang Rai

CHIANG RAI (7 days/8 nights): Fang – Tha Ton – Chiang Saen – Doi Tung – Chiang Khong – Doi Ang Khang, Phu Chi Fah, etc.

Chiang Rai -> Phrae

PHRAE (4 days/5 nights): Lampang and surrounding areas, depending on what’s interesting to see

Phrae -> Loei

LOEI (4 days/5 nights): Phu Kradung – Chiang Khan and surrounding areas, depending on what’s worth seeing

Loei -> Buriram

PHIMAI (Nakhon Ratchasima/Khorat) (5 days/6 nights): Phimai – Prasat Muang Tam – Phanom Rung – Prasat Phanom Wan

Phimai -> Khorat (airport or train station) -> Bangkok (overnight in Bangkok)

Day 46: BANGKOK -> KOCHI

Thanks in advance for your thoughts and advice!

bonjour, 🙂

désolée pour le titre peu précis de mon post, c'est que les questions que je me pose sont variées et concernent plusieurs choses (faisabilité en terme de temps, de moyens de transports, choses à faire et voir...)

Merci par avance à ceux qui voudront bien m'apporter leur aide.

le plus simple est que je vous relate l'itinéraire que mon amie et moi avons prévu de suivre, nous partons les 3 dernières semaine de Novembre, c'est mon quatrième voyage en Thaïlande en 10 ans et son tout premier à elle.

N'hésitez pas à me dire si vous relevez des incohérences voire impossibilités sur mon itinéraire, c'est surtout le but de ce post.

Pour plus de clarté, je vais mettre les questions que je me pose en texte gras. 😊

(10/11) Jour 1 : arrivée Bangkok le matin, hôtel réservé pas loin de Khao San road. visite du grand palais, Wat Arun et Wat Po.

(11/11) J2 : départ de Bangkok vers midi en bus pour Sukhothaï. Arrivée le soir à Sukhothaï, (nouvelle ville, hôtel réservé) ma 1ère question est : est il possible de booker un ticket de minivan qui parte directement de Khao San Road vers Sukhothai ou faut il obligatoirement aller à la gare routière de Mo Chit pour prendre le bus? si je peux éviter de batailler pendant 3h avec un taxi pour qu'il mette le meter pour aller à la gare routière ce serait cool. Lors de mes précédents passage, j'ai bien compris que quasi aucun taxi au départ de Khao San Road n'accepte de mettre le compteur en route, 😕.

(12/11) J3 : visite du site dès l'aube, départ en fin d'après midi en bus pour Phrae si possible. Savez vous si il y a des liaisons en bus et si on peut partir après 16h? sinon nous devrons passer une nuit de plus à Sukhothai arrivée à Phrae le soir, hôtel à trouver.

(13/11) J4 : Phrae (si vous avez des conseils de choses à faire et voir sur place) 😉

(14/11) J5 : Phrae puis départ pour Chiang Rai en bus

(15/11 au 16/11) J6 et J7 : Chiang Rai est ce que ça vaut le coup de rester 2 jours, qu'y a t'il de sympa à voir et faire?

(17/11) J8 : matin bus pour Chiang Mai

(18/11 au 19/11) J9 et 10 : Chiang Mai si vous avez des trucs sympas à nous conseiller (sans voiture car pas de permis et en dehors du Doi Suthep et cours de cuisine déjà prévus), vos conseils sont les bienvenus.

(20/11) J11 : vol pour Krabi (billet réservé) le matin. (21/11 au 23/11) J12-13-J14 : Krabi et environs

(24/11) J15 : départ pour Koh Tarutao en bus et bateau (en fonction du climat) (25/11 au 27/11) J16-17-18 : Koh Tarutao puis Hat Yai? vaut il mieux retourner à Hat Yai et dormir sur place ou partir tôt le matin de Ko Tarutao? notre vol est à 12h15 et je ne sais pas combien de temps prends le trajet Koh Tarutao > Hat Yai

(28/11) J19 : vol Hat Yai>Bangkok à 12h15 réservé Hôtel reservé. (29/11) J20 : Bangkok Chatuchak (30/11) J21 Bangkok vol retour le soir.

Encore merci à celles et ceux qui prendrons le temps de nous aider et de nous donner leurs conseils. Ils nous seront bien utiles.🙂

J'ai trop hâte de partir!

Bonjour,

Nous souhaiterions mon épouse et moi visiter Québec en mai prochain (4 au 25 mai ou 5 au 28 mai 2015). Nous avons une idée d'itinéraire que nous souhaiterions partager afin de recueillir vos avis et renseignements.

Voilà l'itinéraire envisagé du 4 au 25 mai :

DateLieuHeure arrivéeActivitésHébergement 04/05/2014 Montreal 05/05/2014Montreal : Vieux Montréal : balade, place royale, vieux portMontreal 06/05/2014Montreal : Musée Pointe à Callière (histoire & archéologie)Montreal 07/05/2014Montreal : Shopping 08/05/2014Montreal : Jardin botanique 09/05/2014Montreal : Le Plateau, parc du mont-royal 10/05/2014Saguenay : 11/05/2014Saguenay : Visite Fjord 12/05/2014Tadoussac : Balade, dunes de sable 13/05/2014Tadoussac : Observation des baleines 14/05/2014Percé 15/05/2014Percé : Parc Gaspésié 16/05/2014Percé : Parc de la Gaspésie 17/05/2014Percé 18/05/2014Percé 19/05/2014Bonaventure : Bioparc 20/05/2014Bonaventure : Découverte baie des chaleurs 21/05/2014Rimouski 22/05/2014Quebec : Vieux Québec, balade 23/05/2014Quebec : Place royale, vieux port 24/05/2014Quebec : Chute de Montmorency 25/05/2014Montreal

En tout, nous aurions 2 300km à peu près à faire sur 15 jours (du 10 au 25). Généralement, faire une longue distance sur une journée ne me dérange pas mais j'aime moins avoir à prendre la voiture tous les jours. On préfère se poser, profiter des environs proches sans avoir à faire 150 à 200km. Nous aimons également découvrir les grandes villes d'où notre durée de séjour qui peut paraître un peu longue à Montréal. Mais je suis un grand amateur de musique et j'aime avoir le temps de fouiller les magasins de disques et d'aller voir un petit concert.

Mes questions sont les suivantes : - L'itinéraire proposé vous paraît-il intéressant ? Y a t'il des choses à privilégier plutôt que d'autres. Je n'ai pas opté pour Charlevoix, peut-être est-ce une erreur ? - Où nous conseillez-vous de loger pour découvrir le fjord du Saguenay (sans avoir trop de km à faire en voiture une fois sur place). Nous aimons les randonnées mais pas trop difficiles. - Dans quelle ville ou localité nous conseillez-vous de nous loger pour découvrir le parc de la Gaspésie. Faut-il faire une halte à Percé ou Bonaventure ? - J'ai lu que mai n'était pas la meilleure saison pour découvrir le Quebec (mais nous n'avons pas le choix sinon ça repousse à l'année prochaine), y a t'il des vêtements indispensables à emporter ? - Nous pourrions envisager de dormir dans la voiture de location pour réduire les frais (que quelques nuits), est-ce envisageable à cette époque ?

Je vous remercie par avance de vos réponses et précieux conseils. Avec un peu d'avance, bonne année 2015.

Hi, 🙂

Qui vient ? Depuis où ? Comment ? Le samedi, le dimanche, les deux ? On organise un déplacement groupé?

Bref, je compte bien m'y rendre depuis Geneve pour tte la durée du w-end. Si possible départ tard le vendredi soir ou hyper tot le samedi matin. Retour le dimanche soir.

Qui d'autre ?!

++ Bru

Bonjour à tous les membres. Grâce aux utilisateurs de ce site, nous ferons sous peu notre premier voyage "autonome' en Thailande. Vos conseils nous ont rassuré et convaincu. Alors voici je vous demande encore un peu d'aide pour finaliser notre itinéraire. Départ de Mtl le 5 déc. prochain. Voilà Bangkok 2 jours A voir/a faire Wat pho, Chinatown, marché flottant (tres tres tôt am)résidence Jim Johnson, tailleur et sommet du Baiyoke II. logis: Manhattan ou Royal Hotel. Kanchanaburi 3 jours A voir/a faire Erawan, Vallée Kwai (grotte Cascades) Parc national Sai Yok/chutes. Pont rivière Kwai. cours de cuisine (appel guest house) logis: Blue star guesthouse Sukotai: 3 jours A voir/a faire: night market et ??? logis ??? le nord: 6 jours à voir/à faire: descendre le cours de la Mao Kok vers Chiang Rai; Grotte de Thom Pha Thai;trekking; Chian Sean/Chiang Khong via le fleuve; Vallée du Mékong, randonnée à dos d'éléphant; Pai et Mae hong son logis ??? pucket 5 jours à voir/à faire bay de phatong;massage; détour via ko phi phi (Maya bay) logis ?? j'ai quand même des références de Barbot mais nous souhaitons avoir qqe chose de spéciale vu que nous y serons à Noel.

Vos commentaires/suggestions. Ai-je oublié des incontournables?

Mille mercis à tous les volontaires!!!!

Grisaille Québec/Canada

Bonjour, voyage familial (enfants de 8 et 12 ans) en juillet-Août (vacances scolaires obligent !) . Vous pensez quoi de : Paris 5 nuits Honfleur 2 nuits (vace visite de Etretat) Bayeux 2 nuits (visite des plage du débarquement) St-Malo (Dinard ? dinan) et arrêt au Mont St-Michel en route entre la Normandie et la Bretagne 4-5 nuits Arrêt (une nuit) entre Bretagne et Sarlat Sarlat ( ou près) pour visite du Périgord noir 4 nuits Carcassonne ( proche) une nuit Provence près du mont Ventoux 5-6 nuits Alpes ( Annecy ?) 4 nuits Lyon 2 nuits. retour à Montréal à partir de Lyon. Total: 30-32 nuits

J'ai besoin d'aide ! Nous planifions un voyage de 2 semaines en Espagne, région catalane. Nous apporterons nos vélos de route avec nous mais nous avons une voiture en location. Nous atterrirons à Toulouse début octobre. Nous désirons nous rendre dans la vallée de la Rioja (Laguarda, Logrono, Haro) pour 3 jours, y visiter des vignobles et rouler à vélo. Par la suite, nous nous rendrons à Girona, pour y rester 5-7 jours et rouler à vélo. Nous planifions partir le matin, mettre les vélos dans la voiture et rouler sur les circuits à vélo proposés par des cyclistes sur Strava, Map my Run. Pour le retour vers Toulouse, nous remonterons vers Perpignan. Ma question demeure par quelle route devrions-nous passer pour traverser la frontière ? Le col du Tourmalet nous appelle... On aimerait éviter les autoroutes mais aussi se retrouver sur de petites routes sécuritaires... De Toulouse, je passe par Montréjeau et ensuite Bagnères-de-Luchon ? Qu'en est-il de la route ? Je vous remercie à l'avance pour vos éclaircissements.

bonjour a vous

je prépare un voyage au ladakh : je souhaitais combiner treck et festival en septembre à leh qqelqu'un vient de me dire que ce festival n'était absolument pas interessant et à eviter !!! qu'en pensez vous, si vous le connaissez???? merci

Bonjour à tous,

je sais, il y a déjà plein de messages sur ce sujet et j'en ai lu beaucoup mais comme je ne retrouve pas exactement selon nos souhaits, je soumets aux spécialistes de ce forum le trajet que nous comptons faire pour notre voyage de noce. Vous vous doutez que nous aimerions que ce voyage soit exceptionnel. Le problème que j'ai, c'est que je ne conçois pas aller dans l'ouest des Etats-Unis, sans aller à Yellostone... vieux souvenirs de la fac où je regardais les photos de ce parc sans me lasser !

Voici donc je que nous envisageons sachant que pour nous, les maîtres mots de nos voyages sont : nature, liberté, calme, rando... on ne veut pas trop s'attarder dans les villes, on veut juste y passer pour y jeter un oeil, c'est tout. Nous avons commencer à déblayer le terrain :

Départ : lundi 26 septembre 2011 J1 : Paris (10h50) / Denver (18h50) J2 : Rocky Mountain tôt le matin puis trajet Denver jusqu'à Thermopolis (6h30 de route) J3 : Thermopolis - Cody (visite) - Yellostone J4 : Yellostone J5 : Yellostone J6 : Yellostone puis route vers Jackson, visite du Grand Téton et nuit à Jackson je pense J7 : Départ tôt le matin, Route Jackson jusqu'à Vernal (7h30) : peut-être passage à Flaming gorge ou visite de Dinosaur NM (A voir ?????) Nuit à Vernal J8 : Vernal à Moab (5h30 de route) : Arrêt à Dead Horse ou Grand view point (A voir ????) Nuit à Moab J9 : Arches NP, nuit à Moab J10 : Canyolands (rando) / Needles, nuit à Moab J11 : Mesa Verde le matin, après-midi : Monument Valley, nuit à Kayenta (où pas le parc Monument Valley) J12 : route de Kayenta à Page (Journée à Page), à voir : Antelope Canyon et Horseshoe Nuit ??? J13 : Bryce Canyon (rando) J14 : Zion (rando), nuit à St George ? J15 : Grand canyon (une nuit) J16 : Grand Canyon, après-midi : route vers Las vegas (5h de route) J17 : Las Vegas (une journée nous suffit largement : Strastosphère et un ou deux casinos) J18 : Las Vegas vers Death Valley (BadWater) Nuit dans le parc a priori J19 : Sequoia Nuit à Mammoth Lakes ? J20 : Yosémite (pour faire une rando) Nuit ? J21 : San Francisco J22 : Départ le lundi 17 octobre à 18h55 pour un retour à Paris le 18/10 à 17h05

Comme vous voyez, il y a encore beaucoup de ????? Pas si facile que ça de faire le trajet quand on ne connait pas grand chose du pays où l'on veut aller

Les billets ne sont pas encore pris. J'attends les commentaires avant.

Pour la voiture, je pense qu'il est possible d'en prendre une à Denver et de la redonner à San Francisco ????

Alors, conseils ? remarques ? observations ? Envisageable ou pas ? Raisonnable ou pas ? Je pense qu'il y a des chose à enlever, peut-être d'autres à rajouter.... Lâchez-vous !!!

Et merci d'avance pour votre aide.

Bonjour

dans le cadre du Festival du voyage à vélo je propose une rencontre des VF le 14 mars.

Une salle sera disponible...Nous pouvons aussi débattre entre nous....La salle sera ouverte à tous, une façon de découvrir VF.com .Vous souhaitez participer activement faites mois un message privé.

Des voyageurs à vélo seront présent, ceux qui sont déjà rentrés, d'autres qui vont partir....

Certains sont présent sur ce Forum, je leur tends une perche pour qu'ils viennent partager avec nous leurs projets et leurs expériences ...( je ne cite aucun nom, mais ils vont réagir) Quoi de mieux qu'un échange entre voyageurs en direct....

L'heure du débat VF que je propose compte tenu d'un planning bien rempli est de 19h45 à 20h45...Le 4e module se termine vers 19h30 et le 5e commence à 21h00.

Le 1er module commence à 10h45 " la marche du Prince "( Sri Lanka et Inde Lilian Vezin et Lucylle Mucy 45mn)

" La fin du voyage " 52mn de Claude Marthaler suivi d'un débat ( la gestion du retour après un long voyage) à 12h30 dans la grande salle ..

Le programme sera bientôt sur le site ...www.cci.asso.fr

Après le débat il sera temps de se restaurer ....

J'attends vos réactions.

Serge

Bonjour,

Mon copain et moi partons, pour notre 1er grand voyage en autonomie, en Thaïlande pendant 3 semaines (du 13/12/09 au 1er/01/10). Nous souhaitons un itinéraire équilibré entre nature (parcs & îles) et patrimoine (urbain et temples).

De grosse interrogations (en italique) ... c'est pourquoi je fais appel à vous! En espérant que vous serez inspirés!!!!😉

Nos étapes clés dans l'ordre : - Ko lipe - Ko tarutao - khao Sok - Ayutthaya - Khao Yai - Sukhotai - Chiang Mai - Bangkok

Voici plus précisément notre ébauche d'itinéraire :

Lundi 14/12 : Bangkok - Hat Yai - Pak bara

Arrivée à 7h à Bangkok - Correspondance à 10h40 pour Hat Yai (avec Air Asia) Puis Hat Yai - Pak Bara Nuit à Pak Bara Question : 3h40 suffisent-elles pour récupérer les bagages, trouver le terminal d'air asia et s'enregister?

Mardi 15 : Départ en ferry pour Ko Lipe Question : quelle partie de l'île choisir pour l'hébergement : pattaya, sunset ou sunlight? En plein décalage horaire, nous souhaitons nous acclimater en douceur, nous recherchons donc un lieu calme et confortable pour bien dormir. Des GH qui vous ont emballé?

Mercredi 16 : Ko Lipe

Jeudi 17 : Départ pour Ko Tarutao

Vendredi 18 : Ko Tarutao

Samedi 19 : Départ de Ko Tarutao pour Surat Thani (1jour de transport) Ko Tarutao - Pak Bara en ferry Pak bara - Trang en taxi Trang - Surat Thani en train Nuit à Surat Thani

Dimanche 20 : Khao Sok

Lundi 21 : Khao Sok

Mardi 22 : Khao Sok - Bangkok via Surat Thani C'est une journée de déplacements afin de rallier Khao Sok à Ayutthaya. Nuit dans le train entre Surat Thani et Bangkok

Mercredi 23 : Bangkok - Ayutthaya Départ tôt le matin en train de Bangkok pour Ayuthaya Aprem visite des temples Nuit à Ayutthaya

Jeudi 24 : Khao Yai Départ le matin de Ayutthaya Aprem : Khao Yai

Vendredi 25 : Khao Yai - Sukhotai Matin : Khao Yai Milieu d'aprem : départ de Khao Yai pour Sukhotai via Pat Chong Question : quels transports utiliser pour relier Pat Chong à Sukhotai sans redescendre/repasser à Ayutthaya? 2 demi-journées sont-elles suffissent-elles pour faire une belle rando et admirer la nature? Vaut-il mieux faire Khao Yai avant ou après Ayutthaya pour prendre le moins de temps en transport? Ou alors au retour de Chiang Mai?

Samedi 26 : Sukhotai

Dimanche 27 : Chiang Mai

Lundi 28 : Chiang Mai Question : Connaissez-vous un cours de cuisine d'une demi-journée? Les cours de la "Thai cookery school" sont vraiment alléchants (c'est le cas de le dire!) mais cela dure 1 journée entière pour élaborer 6 plats. Je ne souhaite pas forcément réaliser 6 plats mais plutôt aller au marché choisir les produits avec un connaisseur puis cuisiner ces produits.

Mardi 29 : Chiang Mai Départ de Chiang Mai à 21h pour Bangkok Nuit dans le train

Mercredi 30 : Bangkok

Jeudi 31 : Bangkok

Vendredi 1er/01 : c'est déjà la fin - départ à 8h30

Notre périple est assez dense (trop?), il nous faudrait sans doute revoir l'itinéraire entre Bangkok et Chiang Mai. Qu'en pensez-vous? Si nous devions réduire une étape voire en supprimer une, vous pencheriez pour quoi?

Je vous remercie d'avoir lu mon message jusqu'au bout!!!!

A vos claviers!!!!😎