Results for "Sept+laux+|+127"

Puisque en lisant vos recits de vos nouvelles aventures en Inde (surtout de certain Ragamuffin 😉, Parvat et autres - me revoila dans le projet de ma future escapade a travers le Rajastan et Gujarat.., ça y est, la fievre monte ! J'attends votre aide - infos et suggestions, c'est grace a vous que j'ai pu faire mes, je ne sais plus, six ou sept voyages dans ce pays qu'on aime si bien 😮😮😛😉😮 !

Donc Delhi - Alwar, avec une excursion a Chand Baori, puis Bundi - escapade a RAMGARH CRATER, Chittorgarh, Udaipur avec ses environs : Eklingji, Nagda , Ranakpur, Kumbhalgarh, ensuite Ahmedabad - Adalaj, Patan, Sidhpur, Modhera, peut etre Dholavira et Lothar en option. Sambhar Lake - quelqu'un connait ? Et pour les passiones de trucs bizarre (j'ai "decouvert cet endroits grace a Google Earth il y a qqs années) : 27°15'34.63"N 76° 8'11.66"E, une sorte de "pyramides" sculptés 😉, ou plutot une formation naturelle assez spectaculaire pas loin de Jaipur.Pourquoi pas, si on a le temps. Delhi, Bundi, Udaipur - j'y suis allé il y a deja trois ans, assez facile a trouver un hotels, quand aux autres endroits comme Alwar, Patan ou Kumbalgarth/Ranakpur pas evident - comment faire... Et voyager en bus par exemple Alwar - Chand Baori ou Bundi - Ramgarh envisagable ? Peut etre plutot louer un taxi ? Reserver des trains (Delhi-Alwar etc), necessaire? Je compte sur vous comme d'habitude Raga, Kailash, Stalingrad, Parvat et tant d'autres - avec un grand salut a mon ami Nalesnik - mais, le Sud c'est ... juste pour la suite de mon voyage ! L'avion Ahmedabad - Chennai, je connais deja ! 😎

merci

Marco

salem 3alaykom, y a t'il des gens qui ont réservé leur billets de bateau pour cet été à partir de Gênes? Merci

Salut à tous

Dans notre trip cet été aux USA on a prévu 3 jours à Yosemite et on voudrait faire une grosse journée rando avec le Départ de 4 Mile trail + Sentinel dome + la descente via le Panorama trail

Quelques questions :

- On pensait camper au Crane flat (on y serait le 19/20/21 sept), à partir de quel endroit est il le plus pratique d'attraper la 1ere navette pour le 4 mile trail ? A quelle heure est la 1ere ? N'est il pas trop éloigné des randos ? - Ou pouvons nous laisser notre auto ? - En descendant du Panorama trail, où pouvons nous récupérer la navette ? - Pensez vous qu'à ces dates il est possible de camper dans la vallée et éviter la foule ? et quel camping choisir ? J'ai tablé sur 25 kms de rando ce jour là, est ce que je suis dans le vrai ?

Merci encore de vos conseils par avance

Philippe

Hello à tous les Zamoureux des grands espaces, des belles couleurs, des paysages "tremendous" et des voyages à deux 🙂

Bon, cette année, on y repart : 28 jours (fin Aout à fin Sept 2012), et on arrive à SLC (Salt Lake City)... (En 2010, c'était le circuit "classique" des grands parcs de l'Ouest, de LA à SF...)

First of all, Merci à ce site, et à ses contributeurs ! En 2010, nous avions tout organisé seuls, et cette fois ci, avec ce site, on va encore mieux préparer ce voyage.

Donc, on va "boucler" autour de SLC : on part vers le nord en premier (pour le climat- conseil trouvé ici) puis vers le YellowS, puis on descend via un p'tit coup vers l'Est, bref, on suit la trotteuse de la tocante... on passe à Moab (la première fois n'a eu pour résultat que de nous donner envie d'y revenir)... L'iti n'est pas encore (mais pas du tout) arrêté (bien que j'ai déjà passé des HEuresssssssssssssssss à lire des posts ici...), mais la première question est au niveau des pistes en 4x4...

En effet, en 2010 nous avions un 4x4 Ford Escape V6 de 240 CV (via Alamo: 690€): un vrai bonheur (3.977 miles/6.400 kms en 18 j et quasi pas une Highway (+ 4 jours en "ville"...), et avions un peu pratiqué les pistes (dont parfois des "sévères"... on assume...) et ça nous a laissé des souvenirs ... miammm ... qui s'additionnent aux autres paysages "magnifico"...

Donc, nous sommes intéressé par toutes les infos, conseils, idées de parcours sur des bouts de pistes qui seraient "dans le coin" ...

Je comprends que pour l'instant, puisque l'iti n'est pas prêt, ce n'est pas simple, mais comme vos infos peuvent l'influencer...

Merci 😉

Bonjour ! nous sommes 2 filles de 22 ans et prevoyons de partir quelques mois visiter l'amerique du sud en partant de la colombie jusqu'au sud ! est-ce vraiment dangereux pour 2 filles? avez vous des itiniraires avec les choses à faire et à voir? nous partirions vers sept, est-ce la meilleure periode sachant que nous voulons aussi aller en pantagonie? Savez vous à peu pres le budjet qu'il faudrait? nous avons prevu a peu pres 6000 £ donc ça doit faire 7000 euros environ ! Merci bcp a vous et j'espere que certain d'entre vous me ferons partager leur experience pour me faire rever encore plus ! Pauline

Bonjour à tous et avant tout, bonne année!

Je vais dans une petite vingtaine de jours m'installer avec mon épouse en Caroline du nord (Chapel Hill) pour une durée de sept mois. Comme une voiture est un peu inévitable aux USA et que nous comptons bien visiter un maximum, j'aimerais en acheter une, une fois sur place.

Mon idée est de louer un véhicule les deux premières semaines ce qui devrait me donner le temps d'en trouver une qui me convient.

Mes questions concernent surtout les aspects pratiques:

1) J'ai un permis Belge, que dois-je faire pour être en règle (j'ai cru comprendre que les conditions diffèrent d'un état à l'autre)?

2) Quels sont les documents que je dois fournir, dois-je contracter une assurance ou autre chose?

3) Disposent-ils d'un contrôle technique? Quels sont les droits de l'acheteur et donc les devoirs du vendeur?

4) Les vendeurs "officiels" sont-ils obligés de garantir la voiture comme c'est le cas ici?

5) Il y a-t-il des choses auxquelles je n'ai pas pensé, des questions non-posées?

Voilà j'espère que vous pourrez m'aider à y voir un peu plus clair dans tout ça!

François

Bonjour

Pour bien commencer l'année nouvelle ...A voir ou à revoir : un reportage sur l'Oasis OTS sur TF1 replay ou Pluzz.fr...émission "Sept à Huit" du 1° janvier ...

Bonne année à tous les amis du forum😇

JIBE

D'après l'agence de presse indienne PTI, le cyclone Thane a frappé le Tamil Nadu entre la ville de Cuddalore et Pondichéry provoquant la mort d'au moins 21 personnes à Cuddalore, où les vents ont atteint 140 km/h. Cinq autres personnes sont morte dans l'Etat du Tamil Nadu et sept à Pondichéry, selon ces responsables. Outre des dégâts matériels importants dans la zone touchée, des coupures de courant persistaient samedi. Alain

Je prépare mon voyage (Salzburg-Linz-Prague-Berlin-Hamburg-Amstredam en vélo).Je cherche de beaux villages le long de cette route, en évitant les montagnes ayant de trop fortes dénivellations. En fait je pars de München. Pour six ou sept semaines. Environ 2,500 kilomètres. Si quelqu'un a fait de belles découvertes, j'aimerais pouvoir en profiter. Merci.

Bonjour, Quand on est satisfait il faut le dire aussi: Arrivé à Roissy Terminal 1 le 1er décembre de Philadelphie : atterissage à 7h18 récupération de mes trois bagages à 7h50 . Et je n'avais pas l'étiquette priorité . Et lors de mon expérience précédente début sept. le délai était sensiblement le même . Je trouve que la situation au Terminal 1 s'est nettement améliorée . Espérons que les efforts continueront Bon voyage

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, je vais le 28/11/11 pour une semaine au sirenis cocotal, si qq'1 connait ?? l'emplacement de la chambre idéal le plus sympa, les soirées, les excursions incontournables à ne pas manquer peut on payer en euros? bref tt pour faire un bon séjour😛

Bonsoir à tous 🙂! je penses séjourner en décembre 11 et janvier 2012 , sur la Côte de la Vanille, 😠 à MADA , principalement à SAMBAVA ; jusqu'à présent, j'ai ft 7 voyages ds la Gde Ile, tjrs en Hiver ( d'avril à Sept.), dc , sans problème particulier de pluies ou de palu ! mais, là, pr cette région , je m'angoisses un peu 🙁; je sais que c'est la saison des pluies , risques de cyclones etc... , et plus de risques de choper le palu ; qqu'un pt-il me dire ce qu'il en penses ??? est-il "raisonnable" 😇d'y aller en cette période , ou "trop risqué 🏴‍☠️" ??? Merçi d'avance pr vos réponses !

Bonjour, Qui pourrait me dire la signification de ce " 7777 " sur le fronton de cette tome du cimetière Père Lachaise. Par avance merci et bonne journée

Bonjour à tous et toutes. Après avoir rechercher des informations sur le forum je n'ai pas trouver de réponses concluantes. Je souhaiterais savoir sir la douane Panaméenne pause problème si l'on arrive au Panama avec un billet de retour qui est sept mois plus tard. Je sais que l'on ne peux rester que 90 jours sur le territoire Panaméen, mais j'aimerais savoir s'il est indispensable d'avoir sur soi un justificatif prouvant notre sorti avant le délais de 90 jours. Je ne souhaite pas rester plus de 90 jours au Panama car je vais ensuite au Costa Rica et au Nicaraqua. Avez-vous des informations vérifiées ou vécues à se sujet ? Merci beaucoup. 😉

Bonjour,

Je reviens de deux semaines à New York (du 10 au 24 septembre). L’écriture et la prose ne sont pas mon “truc” donc je vais vous donner notre programme et mes impressions en bref.

10 Sept: - Arrivée a La Guardia, utilisation du Super Shuttle ($18/personne) pour aller a notre hôtel, le Manhattan Club dans le Midtown (W 56th @ 7th Ave) - Diner rapide dans une pizzeria du coin, une pointe a $0.99 11 Sept: - Marche jusqu’a Times Square - Metro direction South Ferry pour prendre le Staten Island ferry (gratuit). On a juste fait l’aller-retour pour la vue de Manhattan et la Statue, on avait envie de se faire une première journée tranquille sans réelle visite. - Balade dans Battery Park. - Le soir, cocktails Rlounge, un bar calme avec une vue surplombant Times Square. Faire une réservation si vous voulez la meilleure table. Cocktails a $12. 12 Sept: - Marche dans Little Italy et Chinatown (le meilleur endroit pour des souvenirs pas chers) - Direction Prospect Park (Brooklyn) pour un pique-nique et après-midi de farniente. Petite escale chez Junior’s (ce lui de Brooklyn) pour prendre une part de cheesecake a emporter pour le gouter. Mon mari est un “connaisseur” en la matière et celui-ci est vraiment excellent. - Retour dans le vieux Brooklyn, marche a travers Brooklyn Heights, Dumbo puis diner chez Grimaldi’s, la fameuse pizzeria. Victime de son succès, il y a une longue queue même pour les commandes à emporter. Une fois la pizza dans la boite, nous sommes descendus manger près de la rivière ou il y a plein de tables. - Retour à Manhattan a pied par le Brooklyn bridge. Il était en travaux donc pas aussi beau que d’habitude et ne pensez pas pouvoir y faire une balade romantique, c’est plein de monde (nous y étions entre 8 et 9pm) 13 Sept: - Découverte de TriBeCa - Déjeuner au fameux “Gray’s Papaya” (vous le verrez dans plein de séries TV) ou les hot dogs sont bons et les boissons délicieuses. Le menu spécial recession est $4.95 pour 2 hot dogs et une boisson. (Sur Broadway @ W. 72nd) - Shopping a Filene’s Basement (Sur Broadway @ 79th) 14 Sept: - Statue de la Liberté et Ellis Island (Un incontournable si c’est votre 1e fois a NY, moi c’était ma 4e visite de la Statue et j’avoue que la je n’irai plus pour un moment!) - MoMA, très jolies pièces, nous n’avons eu le temps de ne faire que 2 étages dans l’après-midi. - Diner/Soirée au Café Noir (Soho) - Empire State building pour une vue de nuit 15 Sept: - Top of the Rock (Rockefeller Center), jolie vue sur le Central Park et sur l’Empire State. - Uptown movie tour: un tour en bus qui montre ou les films connus ont été tournes dans l’Upper West et East Side. 16 Sept: - Balade a vélo dans Central Park - Déjeuner au Boat Basin Café, simple mais qui donne directement sur la rivière donc chouette vue. - Croisière sur le “Beast”, un bateau qui va super vite: j’ai moyennement aime car je n’aime pas les sensations fortes, mais apparemment j’étais la seule. Tout le monde semblait s’amuser. - Cocktails au Plunge, un bar en penthouse avec une jolie vue (Situe dans le Gansevoort Hotel) - Diner/Soirée au Park NY, très sympa! (Meatpacking disctrict, le meilleur quartier pour faire la fête) - Quand nous sommes rentres a 3h30 du matin, nous nous sommes changes puis direction le Apple Store de la 5th Ave: beaucoup moins de monde a cette heure-la mais nous étions loin d’être seuls. Environ une dizaine de vendeurs et nous avons quand même du patienter une dizaine de minutes pour acheter un ipad. 17 Sept: - Central Park movie tour: promenade a pied a travers Central Park avec un guide qui présente les endroits qui sont apparus dans des films. 18 Sept: - 8am Messe a Harlem (Canaan Baptist Church). Ambiance très chaleureuse. Il y a deux services, a 8h et a 11h, on nous avait conseille celui de 8h car moins de touristes et nous avons bien fait. A la sortie de la messe, il y avait énormément de touristes devant l’entrée, qui attendaient le service de 11h. - Brunch au Garage Jazz: faites une réservation si vous voulez une bonne table. Une excellente adresse, bon rapport qualité/prix. Ca se trouve dans le quartier du Greenwich Village, un resto plein de locaux avec une bonne ambiance. Il faut aimer le jazz bien sur. - Balade a travers le village, puis le Washington Square Park: un dimanche après-midi ensoleille, c’était génial, p-e mon moment phare du voyage. - Visite du Guggenheim, le musée que j’ai le plus apprécie sans doute. 19 Sept: - Visite du mythique musée d’histoires naturelles. Un très beau musée pour petits et grands. Nous n’y avons passé qu’une demi journée (donc nous n’avons vu qu’une petite partie) mais la prochaine fois nous prendrons la journée entière pour le parcourir. - Croisière sur le Shearwater, un vieux voilier (2 mats) en bois. Une balade très calme, reposante et sans sensations fortes (cf. le Beast plus haut), parfait pour moi, p-e pas pour tout le monde. - 9/11 Memorial (il faut prendre les billets gratuits en avance sur internet) 20 Sept: - Visite du Metropolitan Museum of Art - Visite du musée des cloitres (prendre bus ET métro car nous avons fait l’erreur de rester dans le bus jusqu’au bout ce qui nous a pris 1h20 pour y aller!) - Visite de Madame Tussaud, marrant mais pas un incontournable. - Broadway Show: le Roi Lion au Minskoff Theater 21 Sept: - Journée dans les Hamptons (sur Long Island) avec une séance plage près de Sag Harbor. East Hampton est très sympa, nous avons déjeuné au bord de l’eau au Boat House Café. A cette époque, il n’y pas grand monde et nous avons apprécie le calme des lieux (contraste avec NYC) mais apparemment, l’été c’est une autre histoire… 22 Sept: - Shopping (Century 21) - Dernière balade dans Central Park - Diner a TriBeCa à Cinque Terre, ou nous avons passé une soirée très sympa avec des New Yorkais. 23 Sept: - Dernier shopping - Visite de Grand Central Station

Infos pratiques: - Transports: nous avons surtout utilise métro et bus, nous avons donc utilise 2 metrocard de 7 jours a $29 pièce. Le taxi n’est pas très cher (compare a Vancouver ou nous habitons) donc nous l’avons souvent pris pour sortir le soir, autour des $15 pour aller de Midtown au Meatpacking, entre $3 et $4 pour faire quelques blocks (oui on a été flemmards de temps en temps). - Visites : nous avons utilise un New York Pass qui était plus adaptes a nos besoin que le City Pass. Nous l’avons paye $175 pour 7 jours, largement amorti ! - Budget : c’est une grande ville, donc à moins de manger fast food, le budget nourriture/boissons va être conséquent… et si vous vous laissez tenter par leur délicieux cosmos, la facture peut vite monter. En mangeant 50% des repas en restos, 25% a l’hôtel et 25% en fast-food/street food, on en a eu pour une moyenne de $100/jour/pour 2 adultes. L’alcool représente sans doute près de la moitie de ce budget : au début nous commandions une bouteille (ca atteint facilement les $50/bouteille) mais nous avons rapidement compris qu’il valait mieux commander au verre (entre $7 et $12 le verre de vin) et de s’en tenir a un verre avec le repas. Nous sommes allés plusieurs fois au pub, et la bière, c’est beaucoup moins cher, entre $3 et $6 la pinte, selon si c’est l’Happy hour ou pas. Nous y étions en vacances donc on avait envie de se faire plaisir, je suis sure qu’en faisant plus attention on peut réduire ce budget de moitie.

Nous n'avons pas eu le temps de faire tout ce que nous voulions, deux semaines passent tres vite et il y a vraiment beaucoup a faire a New York.

Certains ne seront sans doute pas en accord avec ce que j'ai ecris, ceci ne reflete que MON experience et mon point de vue.

N'hesitez pas si vous avez des questions.

Bonjour à tous, N’ayant pas trouvé l’info sur internet je pose la question sur VF.com.

J’ai un visa double entrée avec marqué dessus : - - Date of issue : 7 jul 2011 - - Enter before : 6 oct 2011 Pour la 1ère partie du visa je devais sortir pour le 5 sept mais j’ai fait une extension d’un mois jusqu’au 5 oct.

Ma question est : pour que ma deuxième entrée soit valide faut-il que je ré-entre en Thaïlande avant le 6 oct ? Merci de votre aide.

A partir de ce soir 18h:un aller retour Paris/Kuala lumpur :525 euros (simulation départ 13 juillet/retour 7 août)taxes comprises;correspondances pour Bangkok, Bali...à moitié prix.Fin de l'offre le 25 sept

Bonjour à tous,

Nous (mon mari et moi) avons décidé d'aller faire un petit tour en Toscane, plus ou moins 15 jours en voiture au départ de chez nous, soit le sud de l'ardèche ; quand je dis plus ou moins ce sera en fonction de la météo, nous n'avons plus d'impératif à part cela.

Départ prévu le 27 sept. 2 nuits à Gênes, puis Florence en visitant Pise au passage bien entendu.

Je suis en train d'étudier, comme nombre d' entre vous le suggèrent, la possibilité de rester sur Florence et visiter de là les incontournables que je cite dans le désordre : Sienne, Lucca, Prato, Pistoia, Pérugia, Assisi, Arezzo, San Gemignano et ??? j'en ai peut-être oublié mais nous ne voulons pas non plus faire de la visite 'à la japonaise'!

Nous pensions laisser la voiture sur un parking gratuit cité dans le Routard Piazzale Michelangelo, quelqu'un l'a t-il fait ? Y a-t-il beaucoup de risques, quel genre de quartier est-ce ? je ne veux pas dire que l'Italie est pire que la France ou autre pays côté vandalisme ou vol mais certains quartiers sont parfois plus ciblés surtout si une voiture immatriculée dans un autre pays reste là plusieurs jours de suite, bien qu'en changeant de place.

Si nous établissons notre séjour comme cela je chercherais un hôtel dans le secteur du parking, qu'en pensez-vous, n'est-ce pas trop loin du centre, si oui y a -t-il des bus assez souvent.

J'ai déjà fait une petite recherche pour un hôtel , notamment sur le site Venere que vous m'avez fait découvrir-mais ce n'est pas très facile entre les hôtels avec ch. sans salle de bains privée ou sans ascenseur, j'avoue que s'y prendre 2 semaines avant le départ ne facilite pas les choses non plus 😉

J'ai lu de nombreux posts et vos réponses avec beaucoup d'attention et j'espère que quelqu'un pourra répondre à mes questions. Mille merci.

Salut groupe, depuis quelques semaine un projet me trotte dans la tête..

j'aimerais faire un voyage en randonée pédestre..

ce groupe de plein air offre des voyage dans divers pays ..dont l'italie et la grece, d'une durée de 14 jours en sept 2012. autour de 4500$ CAN (départ de montréal)

1-première question connaissez vous ce groupe ou connaissez vous des gens qui ont fait des voyage avec eux..(vos impression) 2- est ce que faire de la rando en grece ou en italie est un bon choix ?? les montagne sont belles ??

ce groupe organise des voyage sportif mais culturel à la fois..ont visiterais des musée et attraction spécifique du pays.

j'aimerais connaitre vos opinion et vos commentaire si vous avec déjà voyagé dans ces 2 pays. 🙂merci

Bonjour,

Je sais que le sujet a déjà été traité et qu'il est très compliqué de réserver les billets de train par internet. Après une dizaine d'essais, j'ai réussi à réserver via cleartrip 2 billets pour agra-udaipur de nuit en AC2 pour le 26 sept, mais mon copain a un billet confirmed et moi je suis en waiting list 1 ... ça veut dire que je suis première sur la liste d'attente ?

est ce que vous me conseillez de prendre d'autres billets dans une classe différente (sachant que je viens de checker et en fait toutes les autres classes sont aussi sur liste d'attente WL5 ou plus) ou un autre jour ou est ce que, à priori, je suis à peu près certaine d'avoir une place ? j'ignore le degré de désistement pour ce type de train de nuit ...

merci de bien vouloir me renseigner svp !

Magalie

Es-ce quelqu'un parmis vous a eu a demeurer a cet hotel, . Hier le spécial a 499$ pour une semaine, es-ce quelU'un a acheté ce voyage, , il y avait plusieurs dates. J'ai acheté le 24 sept. Merci de vos informations.

Quelle est la meilleure saison (pas trop chaud) pour visiter pour le circuit classique de Hanoi jusqu'au sud? Merci d'avance

Bonjour a tous !

j'ai une question un peu compliquée a vous poser ! Voila ma situation, je suis actuellement en Thailande depuis le 1er juillet dans le cadre de mes études, je dispose d'un visa étudiant de 3 mois expirant le 28 sept. Cependant je quitte la Thailande le 23 sept pour le Vietnam puis reviens le 26 pour repartir le 27 au Cambodge puis reviens le 1er octobre et je repars le 4 oct pour Bali puis Singapour et rendre le 15 oct a Bangkok, la situation étant exposée ma question est la suivante, étant donné que je fais les voyages par avion je bénéficie d'un visa 30J a l'arrivée a Bkk mais est ce que je peux le faire plusieurs fois sur une si courte période ? Est ce que je risque de me faire recaler a Bkk en revenant du Cambodge ? Aurais je des pénalités d'overstay ?

Merci d'avances de m'éclairer de vos lumieres !!!

Amicalement🙂

Bonjour, J'ai achete un billet A/R Paris Miami sur le site d'AF J'avais un vol direct Paris Miami et au retour le 6 sept. j'avais un vol Miami-JFK avec Delta et JFK-Paris avec le vol 007 en A 380 . J'etais content de pouvoir prendre l'A380 pour la 1ere fois . Mais a Miami ni moi meme sur le site AF, ni Delta ni AF n'avons pu imprimer le 2eme boarding pass et j'ai du a JFK me reengistrer pour Paris . Bien qu'arrive de Miami a l'heure 5.55pm, AF a l'enregistrement m'a dit que c'etait trop tard il etait 6.15 pm pour prendre le vol 007 a 7.15pm alors que j'etais en connexion . Je suis bien sur decu . Je vais attirer l'attention d'AF sur cette impossibilite d'imprimer, dans ce cas la, le 2eme BP . Je pense que si le billet avait ete achete a Delta j'aurais peut-etre eu les 2 BP a Miami . Donc attention aux billets avec vols Delta/AF Bon voyage

Bonjour à tous,

Tout d'abord, je voudrais vous dire que j'ai bien lu les multiples recommandations du forum au sujet des périples nord-sud en deus semaines...😉 Toutefois, je vous soumets ici mon programme et vous demande votre avis. Si vraiment cela paraît impossible, alors on modifiera, mais qui sait. Nous partons à sept, deux parents et leurs garçons de 8 et 10 ans, accompagnés de trois autres adultes. Nous aurons donc besoin de qques conseils concernant les transports, les choses à ne pas rater, celles à surtout éviter...😏

Donc: 19/02 Arrivée à Hanoi à 06h30. direction l'hôtel et visite de la ville 20/02 Pagode des parfums, et nuit à Hanoi 21/02 Halong et sa baie. Nuit sur une jonque 22/02 retour à Hanoi. Puis départ par un vol du soir (ou lendemain matin)vers Danang. ( passage obligée pour cause de visite familiale😛) 23/02 Journée et soirée à Danang (china beach). Nuit à Da Nang 24/02 Journée à Hoi An puis nuit à Da Nang (ou départ vers Nha Trang ( peut être en train de nuit)) 25-27/02 Nha Trang et environs ( Muy Ne, les iles, etc) 28/02 Route vers HCMV. Soir à HCMV 29/02 HCMV 01/03 Départ vers Vinh Long. Nuit à Vinh Long 02/02 Delta du Mekong, puis retour à HCMV 03/03 Journée à HCMV, puis départ dans la soirée

Voili. A ajuster selon vos retour que j'espère nombreux

Bonjour à tous,

Nous partons pour 15 jours au Kirghizistan et j'aimerai avoir un peu de feedback quant à notre périple. Nous aimerions alterner visites de ptts villages, découverte des coutumes locales et trekking marche/cheval. Le parcours ci-dessous est-il réalisable sans se presser? Y a-t-il des spots que nous avons oublié ?

Dimanche 4 sept : arrivée sur Bishkek vers 13h et visite. Connaissez-vous un petit hôtel, chambre d'hôte pour passer notre 1ère nuit ? Votre avis sur la Sakura guesthouse ? Lundi 5 sept :Bishkek - Canyon de Boom - Pétroglyphes - Chopton Ata Mardi 6 sept : Chopton Ata - Karakol Mercredi 7 - vendredi 9 sept : Trek de 3 jours (col d'Alacol, Altyn Arashan, sources d'eau chaude) : d'autres idées de trek ? Samedi 10 sept : Karakol - Jety Oguz - Dolima Svetov Dimanche 11 sept : Jety Oguz - Bokanbayevo - Kochkor Lundi 12 sept : trek de Kochkor à Kol Ukok Mardi 13 - jeudi 15 sept : trek de 3 jours en partant de Kyzart (idées de trek ? possible de louer des chevaux ?) Vendredi 16 sept : Kochkor - Ala Archa Samedi 17 sept : Bishkek.

Un grand merci pour votre aide.