Results for "Serre+Chevalier+|+127"

Bonjour à tous et toutes,

Je prévois de faire un voyage de 3 semaines dans la partie est du Canada et sur la côte nord-est des Etats-Unis. J'ai prévu de voyager en voiture de location durant mon voyage; j'ai déjà trouvé la société de location de voiture et les hôtels, je voudrais juste savoir si mon itinéraire vous paraît convenable, si il y a des choses à changer, etc ... Alors je prévois de passer 20 nuits selon cet ordre-ci : 3 à Montréal 2 à Québec City 1 à Portland (pour ne pas trop faire de km en une journée ) 3 à Boston 5 à New York 1 au Niagara Falls 3 à toronto 2 à Ottawa

Voilà il ne me manque plus que vos avis !! Ah, encore une petite chose, est-ce que la compagnie aérienne Air Transat est fiable, est-ce qu'ils ont de "beaux" avions ? Merci de vos réponse et bonne année!

Bonjour à tous, et avant tout belle année remplie de bonnes choses douces et radieuses, et aussi de beaux voyages petits et grands !

Je pars au Nicaragua le 18 janvier pour 4 semaines. Je pensais faire le périple suivant et je me pose pas mal de questions sur l'étape 2-, quelles seraient vos recommandations/coup de coeur?:

Managua- Léon : 2-3 jours 2- ensuite aller de Léon à Utila : quel serait le plus joli chemin pour y aller? j'ai vu sur la carte qu'il y a plusieurs parques nacionales? passer par Esteli dans le nord? >>> en comptant une semaine pour le trajet en s'arrêtant ici ou là si cela en vaut le détour, que me recommanderiez-vous? 3- La Ceiba et Utila : 5-6 jours 4- Retour plus rapide en passant par Tegucigalpa (bus international) - Granada (1 jour est assez ? combien d'heures de bus le savez-vous?) 5- Granada - Masaya : deux jours (ou plus?) 6- Ile Omotepe : 5-6 jours 7- Retour Léon : 2-3 jours 8- retour Managua, départ sniff... Un grand merci pour vos conseils et partages !

salut à tous, et bonne année.On voudrait visiter le Laos depuis bkk, on ne dispose que de 20jours.Dans quel sens peut on aborder le pays, nord sud, ou bien ne faire que le sud associé au Cambodge? Merci d'avance.

Bonsoir à tous, Nous avons trouvé mon amie et moi un voyage tout inclus à l'hôtel Sirkantähti. Est ce que quelqu'un d'entre vous à déjà fait ce voyage ou connait cette destination et pourrait nous donner quelques bons conseils . D'avance merci pour vos réponses.

bonjour a tous et bonne année 2012,

j'ai besoin de quelques conseils pour un voyage d'une quinzaine de jour en Inde avec mon fils. tout d'abord, petite précision, mon fils (18ans) est déjà a Bombay = 1 an en student exchange. donc, mon projet : je retrouve mon fils a Mumbay le 13 au soir le 14 nous restons a Mumbay le 15 vol pour Varanasi (a reserver, j'ai repere un vol a 8h du mat)) le 15 et le 16 Varanasi le 17 vol pour Khajuraho (a reserver, j'ai repéré un vol a midi) le 17 visite de Khajuraho et nuit sur place ou dans les environs (conseil ?) le 18 voiture + chauffeur (a trouver) pour route vers Orchha, Orchha et nuit a Orchha le 19 route vers Gawlior, Gawlior et nuit a Gawlior le 20 route vers Agra, Agra et nuit a Agra ou dans les environs (conseil ?) le 21 route vers Jaipur en passant par Fathepur Sikri, nuit a Jaipur ou avant... le 22 et 23 Jaipur le 24 route vers Jodhpur, Jodhpur et nuit a Jodhpur le 25 route vers Udaipur (en passant par Ranakpur) et nuit a Udaipur le 26 Udaipur nuit a Udaipur (et on dit aurevoir au chauffeur...) le 27 vol sur Mumbay (a reserver, il y a un vol dans l'apm) le 28 Mumbay le 29 vol depart a 3 h du mat

Ouf ...... mes interrogations : j'ai le sentiment que c'est trop rapide et pas assez equilibré, j'aurais aimé prendre le train, mais il faudrait faire sauter qq chose.

bon en bref.....vos avis éclairés svp !

merci !

Bonjour et excellente année 2012 à tous 🙂

Après une dizaine de jours à Bangkok, je ferais du volontariat pendant 2 semaines près de Cham-am. Je pensais ensuite prendre le train de nuit jusqu'à Surat Thani, et ensuite un bus pour Krabi. Je compte rester une petite semaine à Ko Phi Phi, cette durée est-elle adéquate ou trop longue? Visiter une autre île sur cette durée? De même, si j'appelle dans les prochains jours, est-il encore temps de réserver un logement à prix décent pour la mi-janvier? Je pensais ensuite prendre l'avion pour Bangkok et de là visiter Ayuthaya, Lopburi (entre autres) pour remonter jusqu'à Chiang Mai. Mon visa n'est valable que jusqu'au 13 février, 21 jours sont-ils suffisants pour remonter tranquillement et visiter sans se presser? Arrivée à Chiang Mai je songeais prendre un vol pour Singapour, faire ensuite Singapour-Kuala Lumpur (toujours en avion) puis retourner à Chiang Mai après cette semaine de coupure, et ainsi obtenir à nouveau 30 jours pour visiter Chiang Mai, y suivre quelques cours, Chiang Rai avant de me rendre au Laos par ferry au point de passage Chiang Khong (toutes informations sur le passage de frontière bienvenues 😉). Cela semble-t-il cohérent? L'autre solution serait de zapper le passage en Malaisie, de prendre plus de temps dans mon trajet vers le nord et de demander une extension. Cependant, l'extension est-elle "garantie"? De même au prix de 1900 baths ne vaut-il pas mieux privilégier un vol extérieur? Enfin, le Khao Yai national park vaut-il la peine de faire une incursion plus à l'est, sans pour autant finir avec un timing super serré? Merci d'avance pour votre aide

Bonjour,

Après avoir passé cinq jours à Ko Phangan en juillet prochain, nous remonterons vers Bangkok et Ayuthaya pour la fin de notre séjour. J'envisage les différentes possibilités pour ce trajet et afin de réduire le temps et la fatigue du parcours, je suis tentée de réserver un vol Surat Thani - Bangkok (prix de 5346 thb pour nous quatre avec Air Asia, ce qui me parait raisonnable). Je réserverais le vol de 15h55 (il n'y a que deux vols par jour). J'ai lu qu'il y avait entre 2h30 et 4h de bateau depuis Ko Phangan à Surat Thani + les trajets depuis Hat Salad - où nous résiderons - jusqu'à Thong Sala, et depuis le port de Surat Thani jusqu'à l'aéroport (je ne sais pas si c'est loin et combien de temps prend le trajet). Pensez-vous que c'est réalisable et que je peux réserver ce vol sans crainte de le rater ? Est-ce également une bonne idée de rejoindre Ayuthaya pour la nuit dès notre arrivée à Bangkok (afin de bénéficier de la soirée et de la journée du lendemain pour la visite de cette ville) et quel est le meilleur moyen de la rejoindre ?

Merci d'avance pour vos remarques et conseils.

Je vous souhaite à tous une très bonne année 2012 !

11/11/2011

Enfin, c'est le jour J! Cette fois je pars avec ma meilleure amie Christine, une super voisine France, et sa meilleure amie Sarah. Aucune des trois n'ont encore mis un pied en Inde... Je suis excitée comme une puce, je n'en pouvais plus d'attendre ce jour j. En général je pars seule, et là je vais jouer au tour leader 🙂 J'ai passé un temps fou, mais tellement agréable, à organiser leur premier voyage. France et Sarah sont parties ce matin, elles atterrissent ce soir, Christine et moi partons cette après midi, nous arriverons demain matin. Je suis un peu inquiète que Sarah et France arrivent seules à Delhi, j'espère qu'elles ne se feront pas arnaquées avec le taxi vers l'hôtel. 12/11 Ca y est!!! Toutoubidou!!!!!!!! Ali, ami à moi, nous attend à la sortie de l'aéroport, en route vers Paharganj'. Je lui offre une bouteille vin rouge, et sacré non d'une pipe, il n'a pas ma daupata (foulard assorti à ma plus belle robe indienne que j'avais oublié chez lui la fois passée). Enfin bon tant pis, c'est super gentil à lui d'être venu nous accueillir. Après un bon p'tit chai, on rejoint le smyle inn, ou nous attendent France et Sarah. Quel bonheur de se retrouver! Nous voilà toutes réunies, le voyage peut commencer...

(France, Sarah, Christine et moi)

Achat de shalwar kemiz (robe pantalon et foulard), ticket de train pour Agra, je réserve un guest house et demande qu'on viennent nous chercher à la gare... Super trajet, c'est marrant de les regarder toutes les trois avoir leurs premiers regards sur l'Inde. Elles se sentent à l'aise, flashent sur les saris tout colorés des femmes...

Arrivées à Agra, un rickshawallah avec mon nom sur une pancarte nous attend. On se serre toutes les quatre avec nos sacs à dos, et 5' plus tard, nous voilà à la tourist rest house. Les chambres sont grandes et super clean, le patio à l'ombre des bananiers et palmiers est tout mignon, par contre la bouffe est pas transcendante du tout...

13/11 On loue un taxi pour Fathepur Sikri. Ancienne capitale moghol du 16eme siècle, construite par l'empereur Akbar, elle n'a été utilisée qu'une dizaine d'année au profit d'Agra. Elle est donc très bien conservée.

Bonjour à tous !

A la recherche d'informations pour préparer nos vacances d'été avec 1 couple d'amis, je suis tombé sur votre forum qui m'a déjà fourni plein de bonnes idées !

Mais comme j'ai vu qu'il y avait de nombreux connaisseurs de l'Italie, je voulais leur soumettre notre programme.

On a prévu de partir début septembre en voiture :

On passerais 2 jours dans le val d'aoste, en logeant à Aoste (prévu : visite du chateau de fenis et petites rando dans le parc du Gran Paradiso). Puis on rejoindrait Stresa pour 1 journée 1/2 (ballade en bateau aux îles Borromées). Le deuxième jour, direction milan pour y passer la journée suivante. Ensuite direction le lac de Come pour une nuit à Bellagio. Après ça direction Venise. On passera une journée à Verone sur le chemin. Puis 2 jours dans la ville des amoureux avant de rejoindre Florence Où l'on a prévu de rester une journée complète. Après ça, passage a San Gimignano, puis une journée à Sienne. On finira la toscane par Pise et Lucca. Enfin, une escale d'une journée aux cinque terre (1 journée), et Gênes (1 journée aussi)

J'aimerais bien avoir votre avis et vos conseils (ce qu'il ne faut pas rater qu'on aurait pas prévu, ce dont on pourrait se passer, conseils pour l'hébergement, etc) Le but est d'avoir des vacances équilibrées paysage/culture

Merci d'avance

Pierrick

J'aimerais savoir à quoi s'expose l'invitant vis à vis des autorités cubaines si le cubain invité décide de rester sur le territoire après la date prévue ? S'il décide contre mon grès de ne pas remonter dans l'avion du retour et de profiter d'être sur en Europe pour y rester ?

J'ai la réponse concernant les autorités françaises : l'invitant ne risque rien si après la date de l'invitation l'invité n'est plus à son domicile (l'invité seul est mis en cause). Cependant j'ai entendu dire que les autorités cubaines pourraient ne plus délivrer de VISA TOURISTIQUE pour Cuba à la personne à l'origine de l'invitation (l'invitant) si le cubain invité ne rentre pas... est-ce vrai ou non ?

Je souhaiterais être certain de ne rien risquer si mon futur invité décide de rester en Europe (cela peut arriver alors je me pose la question) ???

MERCI DE M'AIDER !

Bonjour, Je viens de réserver un voyage pour la Thaïlande en janvier pour 2 semaines "Trésors de Thaïlande et Phuket". La première semaine est un circuit dans le nord de la Thaïlande : JOUR 1: FRANCE/BANGKOK JOUR 2: BANGKOK JOUR 3: BANGKOK/DAMNOEN SADUAK/PALAIS ROYAL JOUR 4: BANGKOK/AYUTHAYA/ SUKHOTHAI Visite de la ville : le Wat Srisanphet Déjeuner à Lopburi Visite du Temple de San Phra Kan JOUR 5: SUKHOTHAI/CHIANG RAI Visite du parc historique de Sukhothai Départ pour Chiang Rai via Lampang Visite de Wat Prakeo Don Tao Arrêt et visite d'une plantation d'ananas Chiang Rai JOUR 6: CHIANG RAI/TRIANGLED'OR/CHIANG MAI Visite des tribus AKHA et YAO Visite de la célèbre région du triangle d'Or Promenade en pirogue sur la rivière MAE KOK Visite des tribus KAREN Temple du Doi Suthep JOUR 7: CHIANG MAI Temple de DOI Suthep Dîner KANTOKE avec danses des tribus du Nord JOUR 8: CHIANG MAI/MAE SAE/BANGKOK Camp d'entrainement des éléphants et spectacle du travail des éléphants Visite de la ferme aux Orchidées Retour à CHIANG MAI et après-midi libre Transfert à la gare et départ en train couchettes JOURS 9 À 14: PHUKET 5 nuits à l' hôtel All Seasons Resort 4* ou South Sea Resort 4* ou Centara Sawaddi Patong 4* JOUR 14: BANGKOK / FRANCE

Pouvez-vous me dire si ce circuit et les visites proposées sont bien? J'imagine que je vais passer une bonne partie de ma première semaine dans le bus mais bon, la deuxième semaine c'est repos à la plage... Qu'en est-il du climat dans le nord du pays en janvier? (quels vêtements prévoir).

Pour la deuxième semaine je n'ai pas eu de précisions concernant le transfert entre Bangkok et Phuket, j'imagine que ce sera en bus... J'espère que ce ne sera pas trop long.

Connaissez-vous les hôtels que me sont proposés à Phuket : All Seasons Resort 4* ou South Sea Resort 4* ou Centara Sawaddi Patong 4*. J'ai lu sur plusieurs forum que Patong n'est pas terrible mais c'est tout ce que j'ai trouvé dans mes moyens financiers et surtout c'est le seul voyage que j'ai trouvé avec un départ le mercredi (je ne peux pas poser mes congés autrement...) Est-til facile de bouger une fois installé à Phuket, faire des excursions (pas trop trop chères), aller passer la journée sur d'autres plages plus belles, ...

Merci pour vos renseignements qui me seront bien utiles. Damien

Bonjour,

j'aimerais obtenir l'avis des connaisseurs sur cet itinéraire, :

1er jour : on atterrit à Brindisi et nous nous rendons à Lecce ( vers 21h)

2e jour : visite de Lecce et départ en fin d'aprem pour Otranto

3e jour : De Otranto, nous allons à Ostuni avec un bus (je suppose)

4e et 5e jour : Visite de Ostuni et des alentours (Matera, Bari, Alberobello, Castellana Grotte). Départ pour Capri.

Je suppose que le mieux est de partir de Ostuni pour se rendre à Capri ?

6e jour : Nouvel an à Capri

7e jour : Départ de Capri pour Pompéi, Vésuve, Herculanum

8 et 9e jours : Visite de Naples

10, 11, 12e jours : Visite de Rome

Bonjour,

Nous envisageons un voyage de 15 jours sur Mada fin avril. Plusieurs projets de circuits:

- *Tana , Antsirabe, Fianarantsoa, (visite du parc Ranomafana) Manakara, et ensuite rejoindre Fort Dauphin. On nous dit pistes très dures pour rejoindre Fort Dauphin depuis Manakara, et bacs aléatoires. Qui se serait rendu récemment dans cette région et pourrait nous renseigner.

Qu'en est il aussi du trajet en train jusqu'à Manakara? Là aussi les avis diffèrent, suite à de récents éboulis, la ligne serait interrompue et le train ne passerait plus , d'autres nous certifient que tout va bien , alors????...

- *Tana-Miandrivazo, et descente vers Tuléar par la côte en s'arrêtant le plus possible; à Tuléar, gagner le parc de l 'Isalo et retour sur Tana.

- *La région de Fort Dauphin. En partant de Tana, et retour en avion

Quel est selon vous le circuit le plus intéressant qui combine découvertes, rencontres, petites randonnées ?

Si j'ai bien compris en lisant beaucoup de vos messages, se fier aux guides papiers, tout en s'en méfiant...;))! donc dernière question: connaissez vous une agence fiable sur Mada?? merci de vos conseils avisés!

j'ai déjà fait l'an passé une partie de la côte Est en remontant à partir de Tamatave, avec des incursions dans la forêt au dessus de Manompana.

suite à plusieurs lectures sur le site je suis interrogative sur les taxis en Thailande. Nous arrivons à 4 avec chacun au moins un bagage. faut il prendre 2 taxis?

sur le forum certains ont des soucis vu les bonbonnes de gaz qui équipent les taxi et ocupent la moitié du coffres.

est il plus judicieux de prendre des sacs de voyages que des valises? Nous allons bouger un peu mais pas tous les jours.

Nous sommes 4 jrs à Bkk +train chiang-mai où nous restons 5 jours + avion phuket et taxi pour Ao Nang 2jours ensuite ferry kho lanta 5jours et enfin phuket 2jours pour avion Paris.

Vous qui avez l'habitude et sachant que nous ne sommes pas de vrais routards(pas de sacs à dos), les valises en dur (moyenne) sont elles plus embêtantes que des sacs de voyages dans les taxis thailandais.

Bonjour, Je pars prochainement le 24/12 sur un vol XL Airways (qui a affreté un appareil de Orbest Orizonia Airlines). Il s'agit du vol XLF036 CDG - PUJ.

Impossible de connaître la configuration de la cabine de l'Airbus A330 300 de Orbest Orizonia Airlines car sur leur site web rien n'est mentionné. Je connais juste le nombre de pax maximum qui est de Y388.

Quelqun peut-il me dire si on est sur du 2 4 2 ou 3 3 3 comme les appareils en propre de XL ? Avez-vous déjà pris cet appareil et comment est le service ? Ecrans individuels ? Equipage Français ? Une suggestion pour les meilleurs numéros de sièges ?

Merci de votre aide !

Je souhaite partir en Birmanie, en 2012, pendant environ 3 semaines, 3 semaines et demi. J'ai établi un itinéraire approximatif, mais j'aurai besoin de votre avis sur ce dernier. Le voici : Jours 1 et 2 : Yangon Jour 3 : vol interne pour Mandalay Jours 4/5 et 6 : Mandalay Jour 7 : bateau pour Bagan Jour 8/9 et 10 : Bagan Jour 11 : bateau pour lac Inle Jour 12/13et 14 : Lac Inle + Kentgung Jour 15 : véhicule pour Pindaya Jour 16 : Pindaya Jour 17 : retour Yangon pour vol interne pour une nuit à Sittwe Jour 18/19/20 et 21 : bateau pour Mrauk U Jour 22 : Yangon

N'hésitez pas à faire des observations sur cet itinéraire et à donner vos suggestions.

Merci d'avance !!!

Bonjour,

J'ai eu l'occasion de poser pas mal de questions sur le forum, le départ approche et il m'en reste encore quelques unes.

Je vais passer une quinzaine de jours sur Palawan début janvier 2012. Je vais arriver sur Puerto princessa et ensuite monter sur El Nido pour redescendre vers Port Barton et Cacnipa. Je souhaiterai savoir s'il est possible de faire El Nido -Port Barton en bus ou van privé. J'ai trouver aucune information claire sur les différentes sujets sachant que je préfère la route à la mer, c'est éprouvant mais tant pis!!!

J'ai vu qu'il y avait une possibilité de faire El Nido -Roxas et de Roxas prendre une jeepney pour Port Barton. Sauf que je ne sais pas à quelle heure part la jeepney de Roxas et que j'ai déjà reservé une nuit d'hotel sur Cacnipa???? Il semblerait selon le Lonely Planet (2009) que la jeepney parte le matin aux alentours de 9h. Donc si je calcule:

- départ d'El Nido aux alentours de 7h et arrivée si tout se passe bien vers 10-11h à Roxas. Je peux donc dire adieu à la jeepney pour Port Barton et à ma nuit sur Cacnipa. Obligé de passer la nuit sur Roxas.

Qu'en pensez-vous? Quelqu'un a-t-il déjà fait le trajet?Y -a-t-il plusieurs jeepney à destination de Port Barton à Roxas? Dans le pire des cas, est-il possible de réserver un van ou voiture pour nous conduire jusqu'a Port Barton? Quel côut sachant que nous sommes que 2?

Merci pour vos rpéonses

hello!

J'ai vu de nombreux sujet sur les mutations EN en Guyane mais les messages étaient assez "vieux" donc j'ai décidé de poster ma propre question :)

J'ai demandé comme première mutation la Guyane (je suis stagiaire en anglais cette année) ce vœux de mutation est un vrai choix, je pense l'obtenir "assez facilement" dans la mesure ou j'ai mis tout mes points sur ce vœux. Bref, je me demandais quelle ville choisir? j'hésite entre Cayenne et Kourou comme beaucoup de monde!! mon cœur balance vers Cayenne car j'y ai vécu trois années fantastiques étant fille de militaire, je garde un souvenir merveilleux de ce département. Néanmoins, je trouve les offres immobilières moins chères sur Kourou, et j'ai un souvenir assez net d'une ville plus petite mais agréable. J'ai adoré Cayenne, mais je me demande si finalement je ne gagnerais pas en qualité de vie en choisissant Kourou. Cela dit j'ai également le souvenir d'une ville calme et beaucoup moins vivante que Cayenne! j'y ai vécu il y a 15 ans déjà!!!

finalement que me conseillez vous? j'ai été à l'école et au collège à Cayenne, j'étais encore bien jeune néanmoins je garde un souvenir très positif de cette ville. Je dois avouer avoir peur d'avoir gardé une image parfaite de ma vie à Cayenne, comme on en garde souvent lorsqu'il s'agit de notre enfance...

j'ai reserver une cabine interieure et la je viens de voir sur le site msc que j'etait surclasser pont 12 cabine balcon. est que sa soit possible qu'il me rechange de cabine? surtout que de niveau 1 je passe niveau 10.

Coucou !!

Bon, soyons clair...je galère !!! lol

Je pars pour la 3ième fois au maroc au mois de février. Planning: 2 nuits à marrakech (arrivée et départ) + 4 nuits.....à caser !!! mdr

Je compte descendre sur ouarzazate, pour ça, pas de problème avec supratours. Mais je me dis que tant qu'à faire, ce serait dommage de ne pas pousser jusqu'à Merzouga et voir les dunes...j'en rêve !!! 😊😊 (et puis je ne sais pas quand je reviendrai!!)

Jour1 : arrivée marrakehc + nuit marrakech Jour 2 : départ ouarzazate, ait benadou dans l'aprèm, nuit ouarzazate Jour 3 : Jour 4 : Jour 5 : Jour 6 : ouarzazate /marrakech Jour 7: retour en france... 😕😕

Comme vous le constatez, il y a comme qui dirait un trou.....😉 Mon problème c'est que je ne sais pas dans quel sens organiser ces 3 jours. Je suppose cependant qu'ils sont suffisants pour descendre à merzouga🙂 Les horaires de bus me posent problèmes (du moins supratours), car je ne trouve qu'un seul bus par jour pour faire ouarzazate/merzouga, qui arrive à 21h30 à merzouga, donc de nuit. Le retour est à 8h00 du mat, donc pas non plus le tps de se ballader( à moins que le soleil ne se lève super tôt??), bref, pas de quoi profiter !! Du coup, si je veux que cela soit rentable, il faudrait que je passe 2 nuits à merzouga, et ce n'était pas ds mon intention.

J'aurai voulu arriver à merzouga début d'aprèm, profiter des dunes et du coucher de soleil, voir le lever du soleil et partir ensuite, soit 1 nuit sur place. Quelqu'un connait-il une compagnie de bus avec laquelle cela soit possible?? (sachant que je n'arrive pas à me procurer les horaires de la ctm)

Au passage, faire la vallée du draa et les gorges du Dades faisait aussi partie de mes choix (oui je suis gourmande!!)

Merci de vos conseils éclairés!!😛

Bonjour à tous,

Nous sommes deux jeunes filles: Diana et Céline de 24 ans et nous voyageons en Afrique Australe, actuellement a la Réunion nous voudrions nous rendre a Madagascar en janvier 2012. Nous voudrions quelques conseils sur:

le parcours a envisager ? le temps nécessaire pour avoir une vision globale de l'île ? quels moyens pour s'y rendre à partir de la réunion, sachant qu'on favorise les transports maritimes? la difficulté de voyager étant deux filles ? y a t-il des risques? est-il facile de trouver des guesthouse pas chères ? est-il possible de se loger chez l'habitant? avez vous déjà entendu parler de "l'éco tourisme"?

Nous savons que cela fait beaucoup de questions, mais nous aimerions recueillir plusieurs avis sur l'île. Merci pour votre aide 🙂🙂

Céline et Diana

Bonjour à tous, Voici 2 itinéraires pour notre voyage du 15/07 au 07/08/2012 avec nos 3 enfants de 10,13 et 16 ans dans l’Ouest américain(cadeau de Noël, surprise pour les enfants). Le 1er est celui que j’avais prévu après lecture de nombreux messages du forum, le second a été modifié sur conseil d’un membre du forum. J’aimerais finaliser cet itinéraire pour me pencher sur les réservations d’hôtels.Je sollicite donc vos avis toujours très pertinents!

J 1: Arrivée Las Vegas 14h10 J1 : Arrivée Las Vegas 14h10 J2 : Las Vegas J2 : Las Vegas J3: Vallée of fire.Zion J3: Vallée of fire.Zion. J4: Zion.Bryce Canyon J4: Zion.Bryce Canyon J5: Bryce. Route vers Arches National Park. J5 : Bryce.Page J6 : Arches National Park J6 :Horseshoe Bend + Antelope Canyon +Powell J7: Canyonlands+ route vers Monument Valley . J7 : Route vers Mexican Hat. Monument Valley. J8 : Monument Valley puis route vers Page. J8 : Monument Valley .Grand Canyon J9 : Horseshoe Bend + Antelope Canyon +Powell J9: Grand canyon South rim J10: Grand Canyon South Rim J10 : Route vers Death Valley J11: Death Valley J11: Death Valley +route vers Yosemite J12: Route vers Yosemite J12: Yosemite J13 :Yosemite J13 : route vers San Francisco. J14 :route vers San Francisco J14 :San Francisco J15: San Francisco J15: San Francisco J16: San Francisco J16: Route côtière vers Monterey. J17 : Route côtière vers Monterey J17 : baleines puis route vers Santa Monica J18 : baleines puis route vers Santa Monica J18 : Los Angeles J19 : Los Angeles J19 : Universal studios J20: Universal studios J20: Los Angeles (studios) ou plage J21: retour sur Las Vegas J21: retour sur Las Vegas J22 : Départ de Las Vegas à 16h40 J22 : Départ de Las Vegas à 16h40

Merci à tous pour vos suggestions.

Konnichiwa minna san

voila je pars en mi-avril pour mon premier voyage au Japon pendant 3 semaines mais je n'ai toujours pas réservé pour dormir ( je m'y prend un peu tard 😊 ). Ayant un petit budget : 2000€ pour 3 semaines (billets d'avions compris) je pensais dormir dans les manga kissa, en auberge de jeunesse ou chez l'habitant ! Alors vous allez me dire qu'avec 2000€ c'est impossible de tenir 3 semaines. Oui mais bon ça fait partit de mon challenge et je pense que c'est jouable 😮

Est ce que vous connaissez des listes de : - manga kissa (celles où on peut prendre une petite pièce pour dormir si possible) - auberges de jeunesses - liens pour dormir chez l'habitant

Mon itineraire sera je pense : Tokyo -> Mont fuji -> nagoya -> kyoto -> nara -> Tokyo

merci beaucoup

bonjour à tous Je viens vers vous et m'excuse tout de suite car je suis nouveau sur le site et je ne le maîtrise pas parfaitement... Tanpis je me lance. Nous sommes 5 nous partons du 31 juillet au 27 août en indonesie avec sac à dos. C'est la 1ère fois que nous allons en Asie et je voudrais avoir des infos. On atterrit sur Jakarta on souhaite visiter, randonner, plonger éviter au maximum le tourisme de masse, voir le plus de choses possibles... Vous allez me dire ça fait beaucoup de chose mais l'enjeu est de nous aider à dégrossir pour construire un séjour cohérent. Combien îles peux t on faire? Qu'est ce qui est incontournable? Comment faire pour voir un maximum sans survoler?

je sais c'est flou mais pour l'instant notre projet l'est lui aussi, donc plus il y a d'infos mieux c'est. Merci

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 comme beaucoup faire un trek de 2 jours à Sapa (pas encore arrêté) mais en fait 1 nuit chez l'habitant.

Au retour du trek, deux options s'offrent à moi :ou je saute dans un bus pour rejoindre Lao Cai et j'enchaîne avec le train pour rejoindre Hanoï ou je dors sur Sapa et ne rejoins Lao Cai que le lendemain matin d'autant plus que je ne connais pas mon heure de retour du trek, les horaires de bus.....et prendre le train de 19h30!!!!!D'où ma question : Assurer en ne partant vers Lao Cai que le matin mais que faire à Lao Cai toute une journée? N'est ce pas perdre une journée?

Merci pour vos conseils.

Bonjour ou bonsoir à tous,

"Amis" de voyage, vous êtes déjà partis en Nouvelle-Zélande ; j'ai la possibilité de le faire depuis Bangkok , une opportunité , et je n'ai pas préparé ce voyage , prévu pour le 13 décembre.

Je n'ai donc pas planifié ce voyage et compte sur votre partage , sur votre expérience pour me donner des infos sympas (sur le coût de la vie donc, nourriture, hébergement... budget à prévoir pour quelqu'un comme moi qui ne fait pas forcément d'extras et dépenses inutiles) et ce pour 3 semaines, en sachant que je resterai à Auckland et ses environs.

Par avance Merci amis du Voyageforum.com

(Ré)

bonjour tout le monde

voila j'ai besoin de vos conseils je ne suis jamais partie en voyage encore alrs je suis un peu indecises j'ai un budget de 600 a 800 euros pour 2 pour une semaine ou est ce que vous me conseiller de partir je veux du depaysement

bonsoir à tous ma question est la suivante: chez air asia en prenant la réservation SANS payer les sièges mais ayant un bébé, va t on nous placer sur les sièges INFANT où faut il vraiment réserver le sièges INFANT? car cela multiplie les couts...aller retour?

j'ajoute que lors de ma résa en ligne j'ai payé pour le bébé (mais son siège n'a pas l'air d’être : infant seat) ce qui veut dire que je dois repayer en ligne pour réserver son siège???

quelle est votre retour d’expérience concernant ce sujet? 😉

bon début de week end à tous

Bonjour à tous! Couple en préparation d'un voyage de 5 semaines en Scandinavie à partir de fin Août (dates pouvant être modifier) recherche d'autres camping "caristes" dans la même optique