Results for "Rhône+Rhin+|+127"

Bonjour chers cyclistes,

Nous sommes un duo et avons un projet vélo ! Grands amateurs de vélos et de nouveaux horizons, nous souhaitons visiter la France en vélo (bien sûr 😛). A savoir que la durée du "voyage" serrait entre 1 et 2 mois, ce petit projet aboutira dans deux ou trois ans, mais nous souhaitons bien le préparer (itinéraire, entrainements, matériels, ect..).

Concernant l'itinéraire, c'est encore assez vaste, cependant nous avons des objectifs ! Les grands cols, quelques Musées et autres curiosités culturelles, en sachant que nous partiront depuis les environ de Melun (77). Si vous avez des avis, des conseils ou même des expériences personnelle nous seront heureux de les partager.

Pour l'entrainement, nous sommes motivés, et nous avons du temps libre pour l'entrainement (3 heures par jours hors week-end) nous avons une bonne constitution mais je pense que pour un si long voyage ceci fera cour même si nous nous octroyons un jour de repos par semaine donc quelle genre d'entrainement conseillerez vous a des amateur pour ce genre de voyage

Niveau matériel, c'est bon pour les vélos. En revanche, nous cherchons des conseils et des avis pour le camping et tous le matériels de voyage qui suit (en tenant compte du poids et de leur praticité).

nous vous remercions d'avance pour les reponses

Salut,

Je pars pour Bucarest du 13/08 au 20/08. Je pense faire une semaine de vacances en bord de mer noire. Je cherche quelques conseils :

1/ location de voiture directement à l'aeroport (par internet prix aux alentours de 200Euros correct)? 2/ prix à compter pour les hôtels/auberge/pension en bord de mer noire? 3/ Endroit à ne pas rater. 4/ bon plans si vous en avez etc... etc... 5/ changer l'argent sur place?

Bonjour,

Jeune voyageuse anxieuse, je dois passer une nuit à marseille en août dans le but d'attraper un avion le lendemain très tot ( vers les 5h du mat')

Mon problème est que soit c'est trop cher, soit c'est trop loin de l'aéroport ( et je ne me vois pas gambader à 5h du matin dans une ville que je ne connais pas) , soit les premiers départs se font a 10h-10h30

Est-ce que qulequ'un qui en sait plus pourrais me renseigner? merci d'avance

Ps: annonce aussi miteuse qu'elle soit est acceptée sauf si rats et cafards sont logés a la meme enseigne! :)

Ma femme et moi ne sommes jamais allés en France et connnaissons que très peu de votre pays et les endroits a visiter. Nous sommes un couple de 55-60 ans et désirons louer un VR en JUin 2013 pour une période de 30 jours . On veut voir les plus beaux paysages, rencontrer le meilleurs gens, bien manger et boire du bon vin.Quelqu'un peut-il nous guider dans notre choix de parcours et nous conseiller sur ce que nous devrions savoir avant de partir Nos premieres idées, ,Paris 3-4 jours puis Strasbourgh, l'Alsace, descendre vers la Provence, remonter vers Bordeaux, Paris.

Bonsoir a tous ;-) voilà mon petit... Voir gros souci.. Je dois partir en Tunisie le 20/06 et j'ai fais la demande de ma carte d'identité En avril est après mettre renseigner celle si est seulement partit en construction ce jour !!!! D'après vous est ce que j'ai une chance de récupère la CNi avant le 20/06 ou dois je faire une demande de passeport en urgence me sera t'il délivrait ??? Au secours merci pour vos réponse

Bonjour à tous! Je suis seule avec ma fille de 11 ans. Je voudrais partir avec elle pour les vacances, pendant tout le mois d'aout. Evidemment, j'ai pas beaucoup de thunes. L'idéal serait de partir avec une bande de copains dans un petit camping sympa. Mais je n'ai pas de bande de potes, et je ne connais pas de campings sympas et pas chers. Le plan: fete, barbecue, bonne bouffe et franches rigolades, farniente, balade et piscine avec les enfants, entre autre bonnes choses. Si vous avez la moindre idée, si vous voulez vous joindre à moi, n'hésitez pas à me contacter, j'étudie toutes propositions!!! Le choix du pays m'importe peu en fait, tant que ce n'est pas trop cher!

Bonjour,

Je recherche des circuits de randonnées pédestres que je pourrai faire cet été sur un secteur assez large (d'arles à marseille). Je sais que beaucoup de massifs sont fermés du fait des restrictions incendie, c'est pourquoi je suis limité. Si certains connaissent des circuits ouverts avec de beaux paysages et si possible un peu d'altitude.. Sachant que je suis prêt à me déplacer, faire un peu de route si besoin.

Merci d'avance !!

ca y est mon fahrrad est commandé!!! ...

enfin suis pas encore parti ... reste a faire l'itinéraire et les préparatifs...

vous auriez un bon plan pour préparer l'itinéraire?

c'est la premiere fois que je parts pour une telle randonnée en velo et je ne sais vraiment comment gérer ma préparation d'itinéraire

faut il acheter les cartes ign de tout le parcours ou ca peut se faire par internet?

je voudrais passer un maximum par des chemins genre chemin vert ( quand meme pas les gr...quoi que... lol)

j'ai deux choix . soit passer par le massif central soit contourner par bordeaux, genre paris bordeaux par le chemin de compostelle puis canal de la Garonne puis canal du midi ( et si j'ai le courage ... passer par les Pyrénées genre tarbe foix etc...

on peut voir que je suis bien indécis et la france est bien plus grande que l'on peut l'imaginer... il y'a un choix tellement hallucinant de route...

quels seraient vos conseils pour préparer ce voyage??

Bonjour,

Voilà je pars Dimanche en Thaïlande pour un mois, et je me demandais quel temps il faisait dans les différentes régions. Je sais que certains ici vivent en Thaïlande, et depuis que je sais que je vais partir, c'est à dire Janvier, je regarde régulièrement la météo sur mon Iphone qui m'annonce constemment des nuages et des orages : pour tout dire, j'ai pas vu un seul jour avec un soleil (sans nuage).

Et là quand je vais sur des sites de météo, ils annoncent de la grisaille pour les 2 semaines à venir, et ce peu importe la région (bangkok, sud, nord...)

Ca m'étonne quand même, je sais qu'on va entrer en saison des pluies, mais 6 mois de grisaille? Passer un mois sous les nuages ne m'enchante pas :( même si c'est pas la meilleure période, je pensais quand même avoir du soleil la majorité du temps! Qu'en est-il sur place?

Ca fait partie des détails, mais qui à mon avis est assez important pour tout cyclocampeur.

De l'utilité d'avoir des vêtements de pluie à vélo, je veux dire à la belle saison.

En juin, je voudrai descendre le Danube à bicyclette. Le poids et la place dans mes sacoches sont comptés.

Est-ce utile d'avoir en suplément des vêtements étanches, qui risquent de servir peu car peu respirants, ou faut-il se contenter d'un bon coupe vent ?

Est-ce que ça a du sens de ne se protéger que le haut du corps ?

En pédalant on a pas froid, et à la limite on sèche bien dès que la pluie s'arrête.

L'important n'est-il pas de trouver des vêtements secs une fois arrivé au camping le soir (d'où l'utilité avant tout des sacoches étanches).

Voilà mon cruel dilemme (et je penche plus pour me contenter du coupe vent...).

Vous en pensez quoi ?

Fraîchement revenu de notre road trip mon fiancé et moi, je souhaité partager notre parcours et notre ressenti sur notre voyage dans l’Ouest des USA du 20 avril au 6 mai 2012.

20 avril 2012 – 10h20 Nous nous sommes envolés avec British Airways de Genève direction Londres Heathrow Terminal 5 pour rejoindre notre avion direction Los Angeles ! Ma peur de l’avion ne se fait pas sentir tellement l’excitation est à son comble. Nous avons une heure pour le transfert à Londres et ce fut largement assez tellement cet aéroport est bien organisé. Nous n’avons pas regretté notre choix d’avoir pris des billets en économique plus car les sièges sont plus larges et l’espace est très appréciable. Après un vol calme, nous arrivons à Los Angeles, nous récupérons notre tank (Une jolie Jeep Grand Cherokee grise) et nous apprécions fort son confort (ça me change grandement de ma mini !) Nous prenons la route direction Palm Springs et un superbe hôtel nous attend (Palm Springs Rendezvous que je recommande vivement).

21 avril 2012 Première petit-déjeuner américain qui fut l’un des meilleurs de notre séjour. Barbotage intense dans la piscine et direction San Diego que nous visitons très rapidement et qui nous laisse sans impression particulière. Elle aurait surement méritée d’avantage de notre temps. Ensuite, direction Coachella Festival, c’est magique.

22 avril 2012 Brunch, Pool, sun, festival!

23 avril 2012 Direction le Grand Canyon ! Nous passons par Kingman et la route 66. Nuit à Williams.

24 avril 2012 Visite du Grand Canyon, sunset ! J’ai apprécié le Grand Canyon malgré que nous n’en ayons fait qu’une petite partie, c’est un paysage à voir mais je n’y reviendrais pas.

25 avril 2012 Direction Las Vegas ! Notre suite au 62ème étage du Encore Wynn était impressionnante. Une vue incroyable sur le strip et les environs de Las Vegas.

26 avril 2012 Visite des hôtels, shopping, piscine et bronzage. Je n’ai pas spécialement apprécié Las Vegas. Je trouve qu’on nous rabâche sans cesse comme cette ville est impressionnante, bla, bla, bla et je crois que du coup on s’attend à quelque chose d’extraordinaire et finalement nous sommes restés sur notre faim. Oui, les hôtels sont sympas, les spectacles aussi (le spectacle de fontaine du Bellagio est vraiment ridicule selon moi).

27 avril 2012 Direction la Death Valley ! Waouh. Vraiment. Waouh. Ce parc est incroyable. Il y a tant d’espace, de vue, de parcours à découvrir que nous regrettons amèrement de ne pas y avoir consacré d’avantage de temps. Nous y retournerons, c’est sûr !

28 avril 2012 Direction Sequoia Park ! Route longue, ce fut vraiment mon erreur de parcours. Malgré que nous sommes passés par des endroits magnifiques et qu’une odeur de fleur d’orangé et de soleil brulant m’enchante encore en y pensant.

29 avril 2012 Visite du Sequoia Park. C’est beau, ça sent bon. Nous croisons un ours (YES). Les séquoias, bon c’est sympa mais sans plus, nous ne repartons pas très impressionnés. Route jusqu’à San Francisco. Arrivé de nuit. Ballade, mon premier coup de cœur.

30 avril 2012 Visite de San Francisco à pied ! Mes jambes souffrent encore ;)

1er mai 2012 2ème journée de visite à San Francisco. Nous sommes amoureux et nous parlons déjà de nous y installer.

2 mai 2012 Départ de San Francisco, nous sommes tristes. Direction la route 1. Visite de l’aquarium de Monterey, grosse déception. Nuitée à San Simeon (The Morgan San Simeon que je recommande)

3 mai 2012 Direction Los Angeles en passant par Santa Barbara. Arrivée de nuit à notre hôtel sur Hollywood boulevard. On s’est demandé un instant si nous n’étions pas dans un bidon ville. Première impression : Au secours !

4 mai 2012 Universal Studio ! On a ADORE. Le front of line pass nous a bien servit et la nouvelle attraction Transformers 3D, j’en rêve encore !!!

5 mai 2012 Venice Beach, sympa. Walk of fame, c’est une blague ? Rodéo drive, une rue du Rhône version Californienne, Griffith Observatory de nuit, une très belle découverte !

6 mai 2012 Tellement peu intéressé par ce que cette ville a à nous offrir, nous sommes déjà à l’aéroport à 13h00 en attendant notre vol de 18h !

7 mai 2012 Welcome home après un vol bien agité ! On est content de rentrer et de manger une salade fraîche !

Bilan de notre voyage :

On a aimé les paysages, la Death Valley, la circulation, notre voiture, SAN FRANCISCO, les lions de mer, la route 1, l’ours noir, l’odeur de fleur d’orangé, la technologie avancé, les outlets, l’ambiance du festival, notre hôtel de Palm Springs !

Nous n’avons pas aimé, la nourriture et pourtant on était bien renseigné mais on comprend largement pourquoi les américains sont pour la plupart obéses. Nous avons été déçus par Las Vegas, nous avons détesté Los Angeles.

On était parti en pensant en prendre plein la vue et on revient à moitié bredouille. Nous nous sommes remis en question et nous pensons que nous n’avons peut-être pas bien ciblé nos centres d’intérêt et que la découverte d’autres parcs aurait été plus appréciée. Malgré tout, nous ne regrettons pas et nous serions ravis d’y retourner mais organisé différemment.

Merci à ceux qui m’ont lu et à bientôt pour d’autre voyage !

🤪Bonjour

J'envisage de faire la loire à Vélo durant deux semianes fin juin; (30 - 40 kms jour) je pense que je vais faire ce périple dans le sens Nantes Orléans, pour le vent notamment, plutot que le contraire non ? et en plus je me demandais s'il était "admis de bivouacquer le long de la loire si à défaut je ne trouvais pas camping dispo là où je me trouverai. Est ce qu'il y a beaucoup de campings ou autres hébergements pas chers possibles ? des points pour faire les courses s'alimenter ? des points d'eau ? pour la douche ? Peut onn se baigner dans la Loire y a t-il des risques particuliers ?

Je me pose beaucoup de questions sur ce futur périple et aussi comment transporter mon vélo en train de Marseille à Nantes sans le mettre dans une housse, mais je crois que ça je vais pas pouvoir y déroger parce que méme si je prends pas la housse pour le trajet Aller (Marseille Nantes) en me content des trains Intercités, je ne suis pas sur de faire pareil au retour vu que je ne sais pas où je vais stopper mon périple ou du moins à quelle gare je vais me retrouver au bout de quinze jours de périple. Et là Il y a des chences pour que je sois plus ou moins obligé d'embammer mon vélo pour le retour par TGV; parce que si je suis à orléans à l'arrivée je ne vais pas prendre l'intercité de Bordeaux pour rentrer loll...

Bref cinq sacoches de vélo plus une housse de vélo comment faire ? et pour dormir ? et pour manger ? etc ...🤪

Je suis preneur de tous conseils.😉

Merci d'avance à tous.

Les vols de plusieurs heures sur Lufthansa sont épuisants. Les sièges sont étroits et très proches des sièges de devant. Imaginez quand votre voisin de devant met son siège en couchette. De plus, les hôtesses ne sont pas super sympas. Une compagnie à éviter.

Bonjour,

Avec ma copine nous partons en Argentine pour 3 semaines complètes du 4 au 26 octobre. Nous avons déjà réservés nos billets départ Bordeaux pour 884€ A/R et nous avions un Budget de 1200€/personne sur place pour les 3 semaines soit 57€/jour. Malheureusement en parcourant les différents forums, il apparait que l’inflation risque de rendre mon budget obsolète…. Je pourrai l’augmenter de quelques centaines d’euros mais pas beaucoup plus. La liste des villes que nous souhaitons visiter, certes ambitieuse, est la suivante : Buenos Aires, Iguazu, Ushuaia, El Calfate, Mendoza, Salta et les alentours. Cela parait serré niveau timing, et un peu épuisant sur le papier, mais pas de problème à ce niveau la : j’ai parcouru le Vietnam de long en large pendant 3 semaines a coup de bus de nuit et cela ne me fait pas peur de recommencer. J’habite bordeaux pour me reposer je vais à la plage le weekend ;-)

Je viens aujourd’hui consulter les précieux conseils des membres de ce forum car il y a plusieurs inconnus dans l’équation de notre périple. Voici déjà les données connues :

- nous partons à deux

- les hôtels ne sont pas une priorité pour nous, donc sans parler de dormir dans des endroits miteux, nous ne comptons pas dormir dans des 5 étoiles

Et voici donc quelques questions pour vous 😎

- Quel budget devrons-nous prévoir par personne par jour ou de façon plus global pour 3 semaines ?

- Quelle est la meilleure façon d’optimiser mon itinéraire pour perdre le moins de temps possible ?

- A quel moment de notre voyage, il sera judicieux de privilégier l’avion plutôt que le bus, tout en sachant que nous n’avons pas un budget illimité ?

- Quels sont selon vous les endroits incontournables à voir pendant ses 3 semaines ? J’aurais adoré voir les baleines du coté de Puerto Madryn, mais on est d’accord que ca va faire beaucoup pour notre planning ?....

Dans l’attente de vos réponses 🙂🙂🙂

Thomas

Bien le bonjour ! En vu de rejoindre l’Amérique latine en sac à dos, je recherche quelqu'un qui voudrais bien d'un type qui n'a que très peu de notions en navigation mais qui a envie d'apprendre. Dynamique ouvert et simple je suis ! J'aimerais partir en aout/septembre/octobre. Si ca vous dit, je suis dispo pour mieux ce connaitre 😉

Bye !

Nous sommes un jeune couple début trentaine. Nous prévoyons un voyage le en Europe pour les 2 premières semaine de juillet 2012. Nous allons arrivé à Nice et partir de Barcelone. Notre idée de départ était de ce louer une voiture et de longer la méditéranée dans trop avoir d'horaire fixe. On voulait prendre ça relaxe et s'arrêter ou bon nous semble. On ne voulait pas réserver d'hotel à l'avance, mais nous nous somme fait dire qu'il serait difficile pour nous de trouver de l'hébergement sans réservation en été car c'est très achalandé. Alors on ce doit d'organiser un peu plus notre voyage. Mais là je sais plus comment organiser ce voyage.

J'avais planifié un circuit que voici : 4 premières nuit à Nice (Lundi arrivé à Nice à midi, Mardi Monaco, Mercredi Nice, Jeudi Cannes), 2 nuits à Marseille (Vendredi arrêt à St-Tropez en route vers Marseille, soirée à Marseille, Samedi Marseille/Aix en Provence) une nuit à Arles (Dimanche Avignon et Arles), une nuit à Toulouse (Lundi arrêt à Montpellier en route vers Toulouse, PM à Toulouse), une nuit à Bordeaux (mardi à Bordeaux), une nuit à Zaragoza en Espagne (mercredi arrêt à Bayonne en AM, Pamplona en PM et soirée, dodo à Zaragoza car trop dispendieux à Pamplona vu la San Fermin) 2 nuits à Barcelone (jeudi Zaragoza, soirée à Barcelone, vendredi Barcelone, samedi dépard de Barcelone à 13h00).

OUF ! Je me suis fait dire que c'était un horaire trop chargé, je le savais, mais à l'écrire comme ça je le constate encore plus. Quoi enlever ??? Je me dit quand à être là je veux voir du pays...

Ce que aimons en voyage : voir du pays, être dépayser, sociabiliser avec les gens de la place, relaxer avec un petit verre, la plage, la mer, les beaux paysages, l'activité de la ville, le glamour.

JE SAIS PLUS !!! Si il avait été possible de pas réserver d'hotel ça serait tellement plus simple. Là je me dit qu'on pourrait faire 4 nuits à Nice, 4 à Aix ou Marseille, 4 à Barcelone, visiter les allentours de ces villes en revenant à l'hotel le soir. Qu'est ce que vous me conseiller ? Ah oui et nous adorons également les animaux, est-ce que le musée océanique et le zoo de Monaco faut la peine d'être vu ? Puis j'aimerais visité 1 chateau et 1 vognoble. C'est compliquer n'est ce pas....

Bonjour à tous,

Je serai à Aix-en-Provence du 19 au 24 février avec une amie. Cette amie aime beaucoup les randonnées mais nous serons sans voiture donc, je me demandais s'il y avait des balades nature à faire, accessibles en transports en commun. Le massif du Garlaban, sur les traces de Marcel Pagnol, ou la montagne Sainte-Victoire m'intéresseraient beaucoup mais est-ce possible sans voiture? Y a-t-il d'autres lieux de balades sympas? Ou connaissez-vous des groupes de randonneurs auxquels nous pourrions nous joindre à cette période-là? Nous irions bien faire une balade aussi dans les Calanques mais n'est-ce pas un peu compliqué à nouveau sans voiture?

Je vous remercie d'avance pour vos réponses et conseils.

Valérie

Bonjour tout le monde,

J'aimerais savoir savoir si quelqu'un y a séjourné avec un petit de cet âge? ce sera la troisième fois pour mon mari et moi ( à la fin de ce mois), mais la première avec un bébé, du coup il y'a plusieurs questions qu'on se pose. d'abord que me conseillez-vous comme affaires pour le petit: habits, médocs, trousse de soins ?? comment faites-vous pour la nourriture ?? est-ce que les trips en longtail boat sont possibles ??

tous vos conseils sont les bienvenus.

Merci 😎

Bonjour!

Je pars avec une amie en voyage en avril, nous avons prévu une portion U.K. et une portion France, mais j'ai plusieurs questions 😮

Premièrement: c'est une bonne idée de louer une voiture pour 10 jours en France? Ou on aurait mieux fait de parcourir le pays par train? Si on opte pour la voiture, je peux la prendre en charge disons en Bretagne ou à Paris et la laisser dans le Sud de la France sans problème? Compagnies à recommander?

Ensuite: on arrive à Cherbourg par le traversier depuis l'Irlande le 15 avril à 14h00. On fait quoi? Nuitée à Cherbourg, ou ça vaut pas la peine, vaut mieux partir en train vers un grand centre et louer une voiture de là-bas? Il y a quoi à Cherbourg anyways?

Mes seules contraintes pour ce roadtrip: en chemin on passe par Paris, et par Lyon, et on descend le pays en direction la Suisse/l'Italie.

Bonne idée de réserver des lits en auberge jeunesse à l'avance, ou au mois d'avril on aura de la facilité à se trouver une auberge jeunesse peu importe où on désire se poser pour la nuit?

Basically je sais qu'il y a 1000 itinéraires possibles, mais si vous aviez 10 jours pour parcourir la France en voiture, vous iriez où exactement?

Merciii à l'avance, j'ai trouvé plein d'infos sur votre pays sur le forum mais rien à propos d'un roadtrip...😐😐 Help!!!

Bonjour,

Nous sommes deux couples du Québec. Nous ferons notre premier voyage en Europe cet été. Nous pensions à l'hébergement en maison ou appartement. Donc deux endroits différents, pour une semaine chacun. Je pense que Paris est un incontournable pour la première semaine, mais quel endroits serait le mieux pour la deuxième semaine? Une location d’auto est possible. Nous aimerions voir des vignobles, de beaux châteaux (pas des ruines), des sites historiques, peut-être la côte d'Azur? de beaux paysages etc... Quelle serait la meilleure place pour avoir un pied à terre pour une semaine? Est-ce qu'il y a des régions à éviter en juillet pour toutes sortes de raisons?

Bonjour

Je m'appelle J-P, j'habite en Belgique et ma copine habite près de Paris. Nous avons 23 ans.

Une société pour laquelle j'ai travaillé s'installe dans le sud de la France, vers Aix ou autour de Marseille et me propose un emploi. J'arriverai donc sur place avec un emploi directement, vers le mois de juillet.

Ma copine, elle, termine ses 5 ans d'études en juin qu'elle a suivi dans le domaine de la psychologie avec spécialisation dans le milieu de la délinquance.

- Est-il facile de trouver un emploi dans cette région? et dans ce domaine d'activité? - Connaissez-vous des organismes ou des boites de près ou de loin ou elle pourrait prospecter? - Avez-vous des "bons plans"? - Est-il facile de se déplacer en transport en commun ou en voiture dans le coin? (nous préférons vivre à l'extérieur des grosses villes mais ce n'est pas indispensable).

Si vous avez des conseils utiles ou des réponses à des questions que je n'ai pas posées n'hésitez pas ;)

S'il vous plait évitez les commentaires sur la population du sud j'en ai assez lu et je pense qu il y a des bons et des mauvais partout, idem pour les avantages et les inconvénients de tous les jours.

Par contre si vous avez des trucs et astuces pour les logements ils sont bienvenus.

Merci d'avance ;)

Bonjour,

Un ami et moi même avons pour projet de partir à vélo cet été depuis là ville où nous habitons en Seine et Marne (Pontault-Combault) pour rejoindre la méditerranée, surement du coté de Vias dans l'Hérault.

L'été dernier, nous avons effectué notre tout premier périple sur 5 jours en partant de chez nous pour aller à Besançon chez de la famille (400km). Comme c'était notre premier "gros trajet" nous avons opté pour un logement dans des petits hôtels le long du chemin que nous avions réservé au préalable. Nous n'avions donc sur nous qu'un sac à dos avec le strict minimum niveau matériel. Grâce au logiciel openrunner, nous avons pu réaliser nos parcours et les transférer sur mon GPS pour vélo Garmin Edge 800, donc c'était super pratique et tout s'est bien passé.

Cette fois ci, nous avons l'intention de parcourir le trajet prévu entre 8 voire 9 jours maxi, puis de rester quelques jours sur place. Afin de préparer au mieux notre périple, nous voulons planifier nos parcours selon plusieurs critères :

- Entre 80 et 110 km par jour environ (en fonction du dénivelé) - Passage par des routes peu fréquentées dans la mesure du possible et agréables (paysages...) - Hébergement dans des petits hôtels ou gîtes/chambres d'hôte

Auriez vous un itinéraire à nous conseiller pour ce voyage ? Pensez-vous que c'est réalisable dans le délais prévu ?

Je précise que nous aurons tous les deux 22 ans cet été et que nous pratiquons une activité sportive régulière.

Merci d'avance pour tous vos conseils !

salut a tous juste un petit sondage pour voir comme ca c est quoi votre préféré ? 😉

Salut à tous..

Voila, mon amie et moi partons 3 semaines en février ( encore 2 longs mois a attendre...😕 ) . Après avoir parcouru le Lonely et VF, il y a un gros souci apparemment avec ce pays.... Beaucoup, mais beaucoup trop de belles choses à voir....!

Arrivée à Manille et retour Manille 21 j + tard..Au milieu, j'espère de beaux moments et des images pleins les mirettes 🙂. Ce que nous voulons absolument faire : 4 a 5 j de plongée bouteille pour passer notre Open water..

Pour vous donner une idée de ce que nous voulions voir, on a bien accrochés sur les rizières du nord de Luzon, Apo Island (préservée et tip top pour la plongée ??), le volcan Mayon, Bohol Siquijor camiguin cebu les twin lakes...

En bref : Un peu de rando, de plongée, de farniente et ballades cool cool dans les iles (location de moto pourquoi pas..) Joubliais les San miguel et la les bons petits plats 😎

De ce que jai pu voir sur les autres posts, tout ca semble pas cool du tout en si peu de temps...

Quoi sacrifier donc à votre avis....? Quels moyens de transports au milieu de tout ca sachant qu on comptait finir en mode farniente? avions a reserver a lavance? Que faut il reserver a lavance ? le bus pour le nord de Luzon ..?Resorts ?rien du tout?

Merci d 'avance

Julien

bonjour, je voudrai faire un choix d excursions , soit gratuite et on fait a pied la ville d escale ( NAPLES, LA VALETTE (malte), CAGLIARI ET AJACCIO voila sur le costa deliziosa ns disposons de 5 heures a peu près , l après midi dans ces villes , et comme question de budget on ne peut s aventurer partout, quels conseils me donneriez vous de ne pas louper les sites magnifiques dans ces villes, doit on privilégier plus profondément une ville plus qu une autre, car on hesite entre NAPLES , ou Malte, de consacrer un transport touristique a notre disposition , sans se faire piéger, et ne pas passer a coté de quelquechose de magnifique. On ne connait pas du tout, c est notre première croisière et visite de ce contour méditerranéen . ... MERCI de vos conseils, bon week end .. Egalement si vous avez déjà profité des piscines sur les bateaux en decembre , quelquesoit le corsa ou autre, y a til une protection au dessus des piscines chauffées afin de se prélasser un peu en maillot de bain, car les rayons meme en decembre doivent nous faire du bien a travers les bulles de toits transparents....?? 😏😎😉 , ,

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.

Bonjour cher(es) cyclistes du monde Voilà avec un ami, nous avons le projet de rouler de paris jusqu’à Avignon à vélo du 4 au 22 janvier 2012. Nous sommes 2 Québécois( un vtt et un cyclotourisme) et pas trop renseigné sur le climat et les itinéraires intéressant en France.🤪 Quel circuit est- il préférable d emprunter ? Faut il envisager de sortir de paris en train ou en vélo ? Est ce que c est utopique de songer au camping ? Je dirais que notre budget sera modeste. Quelle sont les ressources que nous pouvons espérer trouver sur le vieux continent pour se restaurer et dormir à moindre cout.

Tout conseil référence ou invitation seront bienvenue !

Merci😉

Bonjour,

Mon passeport qui a 6 ans seulement se découd !! Un "douanier" espagnol vient de m'en faire la remarque et a ajouté que cela pouvait compromettre certains passages.

cela peut il se faire refaire gratuitement ....... ? l'avez vous vécu ??

Je viens de faire un tour à la mairie, une employée voulait que je refasse un passeport neuf à mes frais en me donnant le dossier complet, j'ai décliné l'invitation, et elle m'a renvoyé vers la préfecture.

Avant de faire ce déplacement, j'aimerais votre vécu. Merci.

Bonjour,

Je prévois un petit séjour en Europe du 28/10 au 10/11. J'habite à l'île de la réunion et le shopping c'est limité! Auriez vous qq conseils sur le shopping à Andorre? Est ce que ça vaut vraiment le coup en chaussures, sacs et vêtements? Ou auriez vous une destination à me conseiller svp? J'avais envie de faire aussi le marché de Clignancourt .

En espérant vous lire trés vite! à bientôt 🙂

Bonjour,

Je démarre un travail à Genève au 1er septembre 2011, je dois donc choisir un système d'assurance maladie à partir de cette date : Système Suisse, assurance privée ou CMU en France.

J'ai 26 ans, en bonne santé, jamais eu de soucis mais là, pas de bol, je dois subir une intervention chirurgical au niveau des gencives, avec pose d'implants etc...

Le système Suisse rembourse très mal les frais dentaires, et les assurances privées fonctionne pour le dentaire avec un délais de carence de 6 mois pour les soins dentaires et 9 pour les prothèses dentaires. La CMU couvre aussi peu ces frais (à hauteur de la sécurité sociale Française) et va s'avérer cher à partir de la 2ème année (environ 180€/mois, et il faudrait rajouter la-dessus une mutuelle)

Mon dentiste me conseille d'être opéré avant fin septembre au grand max, et il y en a pour très cher... Je n'ai pour l'instant absolument pas les moyens de régler la facture.

Que mon conseillez-vous ? C'est une super opportunité professionnelle pour moi et je veux vraiment la saisir... Je vous remercie pour vos réponses !