Touring The Road to Nice

Sorry chaps. This write up got a bit out of hand. I started it while I was away so things were fresh in my mind and sort of updated it as I went along as I had the idea of writing a blog and maybe still will. After spending far too long sorting out this post I find I have to split it down as there is a character limit.

Herewith the first two days of my French trip with more to come if anyone is interested. Please feel free to just look at the the pictures (or what pictures there are). I'm not sure I really expect anyone to read it but I thought I'd try a post anyway. Deep breath, are you sitting comfortably, then we'll begin.

The Road to Nice


Forty years ago I bought a book in a junk shop in Worcester. The book, published in 1955, was called The Road to Nice by Eric Whelpton. I've no idea why I bought it. At that point I had no plans to go to France, didn't have any transport apart from an old Honda PC50, and in truth knew nothing of France except I hated French at school and their predilection for snails and frog legs. Not a particularly auspicious starting point.

Nonetheless, I read the book and somehow was drawn into the idea of motoring through France. Remember the book was nearly 20 years old at that time and being a bit naive it didn't occur to me that it might already be out of date.

Time passes but lodged somewhere in my mind was the notion of recreating the trip. My moped became a CD175 and 25 bikes and forty years later a Triumph Thunderbird Commander 1700 sits on the drive. A completely unnecessary and excessive machine but ….........

It was another ten years before I eventually made it to France. An ill-prepared CX500 and an even more ill-prepared rider and pillion. A spur of the moment decision. I had a weeks holiday booked, a friend coming to visit and no plans.

I really can't remember why we decided to go to France but I expect alcohol and the fact my flat in Brighton was only about 20 minutes from the Newhaven-Dieppe ferry had something to do with it. "Tomorrow we're going to France".

I can't remember if they had their passport with them or if you could get a British visitor's passport at the port but somehow we both got in and out of France without getting arrested.

I'm not sure I even checked the oil or tyre pressures. A couple of hastily packed throw over panniers, no map, no French and a vague idea of heading south.

Rolling off the ferry into France for the first time was very exciting for me and I still get a little shiver of excitement even now although the corporate and sanitised experience these days does its best to remove any sense of real pleasure or adventure.

Five days later we made the return journey and I had discovered I quite liked France despite not being able to speak a word or understand anything.

In the intervening years I've toured extensively in France both on the bike and by car but still I hadn't followed the Road to Nice.

Turning 60 a couple of years ago was a bit of a shock. I'd never expected to make 40 let alone 50 and definitely not 60. It was time to think about what I still wanted to do before my body or mind began to give up.

Actually it was a bit disappointing as I'd done and seen most of the things and places I'd wanted to. I'm not the most adventurous of blokes it has to be said. I like to work within my comfort zone which drives my wife to distraction. If I'm away for three weeks it seems like a long time so round the world expeditions were never going to be on my bucket list. The Road to Nice still was though and being 60 years later there might prove to be some interesting comparisons to be made.

Re-reading the book I realised that it wasn't going to be that easy. Eric never took one route but had several options which made it difficult to plan a simple route. He also seemed to stop in almost every town which, had I tried the same, meant I'd be away for a month or more and spending a fortune on hotels!

My compromise was to select 3 of his destinations and take 4 days to ride to Nice to meet up with my wife and family for a week in a villa. I was hoping to use the roads he used (at least when I could work out where they were) and avoid the autoroutes.

So, there was a plan forming.

Day 1: Calais to Senlis - 180 miles
Day 2: Senlis to Le Puy en Velay - 370 miles
Day 3: Le Puy to Tarascon - 150 miles
Day 4: Tarascon to Nice - 180 miles

I knew day 2 might be a bit tough on the roads I'd picked but felt confident that all would be fine if I got an early start. Oops........

Day 1 : June 3rd 2015 : Brighton to Senlis

There are a lot of things I've done that I swore I'd never do again. One of those is eating andouillettes. If you've never had this “delicacy” then you must try it sometime. It's unlikely you'll ever do it again unless you're French or partial to a few tubes in your sausage. I once ate in what was supposed to be one of the best restaurants in Lyon for andouillette and I said never again and I never did.

Crawling out of bed at 5:30 to catch an 8:30 ferry from Dover was also one of those “won't do it again” moments. I seem to say it every year and never manage to stick to it. My wife says I lack discipline but I think it's just an excuse to get a whip from John Lewis.

I think it's important to choose resolutions you have some sort of chance of keeping don't you?

Weather forecasting is an art so I'm told. It's a load of Pollocks I'm thinking. Getting wet on the way to Dover was not in the script or the forecast.

One day I'll learn how those tie down things on the ferry work. I can never seem to get them to adjust and have to ask one of the matelots on the deck to help me. If that's not embarrassing enough I then have to also get them to help me to release it once once we reach the other side.

I'm off the boat first and I'm shocked at the number of asylum seekers on the main road from the port. Last year there were a few but it looks like its getting out of hand and I don't see any easy answer.

I end up on the D901 more by accident than design. I wasn't paying attention to the Garmin Zumo (this would be a recurring issue). This meant I never took the road near the coast that Eric talked about (missing his roads would also become a recurring issue).

Nonetheless it made a pleasant change from the normal high speed escape from Calais even if I couldn't relate it to Eric's experience and make the comparisons I was hoping for. Sorry Eric.

Several very enjoyable hours later on roads we mostly ignore as we scoot south I arrived at Senlis. Not a bad start to the trip. I took a number of unintended diversions it's true but good roads, the lack of traffic and perfect riding weather was a great way to begin.

The trip almost ended at Senlis as I missed yet another turning and ended up on a tiny street with the sort of pave encountered on one of the Belgium classic cycle races. I discovered it was not the natural habitat for nearly 500 kilos of cruiser, rider and luggage. The Thunderbird may handle better than any bike that size should but there are limits. A good job it wasn't raining …..............

The Hostellerie de la Porte de Bellon was expensive but very welcoming and even let me in my room despite arriving an hour earlier than I had said.

Eric described Senlis as a compact town and the old town still is. A maze of cobbled streets now given over very much to the tourist trade. Being the seat of French royalty in the past the town oozes history. Unfortunately the history I was looking forward to seeing was closed. The cathedral was encased in scaffolding and if there was a way in I couldn't find it. A fine looking building though.



A wander round the streets and a beer or two and I was ready for dinner. A bit nouvelle cuisine in presentation but decent enough food even if I didn't understand the block of vegetables.

A long day tomorrow so I made a few notes for this write-up and had an early night.

 

Day 2: June 4th 2015 - Senlis to Le Puy.

About to set off for Le Puy.



My longest day does not start well. According to the on-board computer I have less than 40 miles left in the tank. I should have filled up yesterday but wasn't thinking straight. Now I'm 30 miles into the ride and the only petrol station I've seen is on the other side of a dual carriageway.

In the end fear gets the better of me and I get off at the next junction and go back to the fuel station to find only 17 litres are needed meaning 5 litres (at least 50 miles) were left in the tank. I decide the on-board computer is best considered "advisory".

Having taken an unintended detour I decide to forget my original route and make for Fontainebleau via Meaux. Not my best move as I seem to hit a never ending series of road works and diversions which all result in being caught in slow moving lines of tractors and HGVs with no opportunity to overtake.

It's also getting very hot and the vastly expensive Triumph Navigator suit, with more more ventilation panels than you can shake an aircon unit at, has seamlessly transformed into a mobile sauna.

Fountainebleau comes and goes but the Garmin is still trying to take me back via Paris. I'd later work out why but I'm too hot and tired to sort it out and I head for the motorway.

I must have been a bad boy in a past life as my ability to find road works and diversions has reached spectacular proportions and I spend the next 50 miles behind a caravan of caravans and even when I reach what I expected to be a motorway I find only one lane open and the caravan continues.

Finally I'm free. The A75 gives me a chance to get some air flowing through the suit but I appear to be following an invisible hairdryer. A special feature available only to motorcyclists I believe.

A brief respite at a fuel stop and I meet a woman on a 900 Diversion with a small dog in her tank bag. He goes everywhere with her apparently. Too cool!



Approaching Le Puy I am nearing breaking point. The most comfortable motorcycle seat in the world has been an instrument of torture for the last 4 hours, my body feels like I've been hit by a bus, the thermometer on the bike is reading 100, and the bottle of water I've got is nearly hot enough to make tea with. I've stopped several times to take a drink from it. I know logically it's rehydrating me but warm water does nothing to refresh a tired mind.

At last! A sign telling me Le Puy is 5km and the roundabout ahead has an exit for Le Puy. Yay! Oh, fuck me, they're 'aving a larf ain't they? The fucking road is closed and there's another fucking diversion. I want to cry.

I hate France, I hate this road, I hate this bike, I hate caravans, I hate roadworks but most of all I hate myself for setting this stupid route and having the idea of following some long forgotten book.

My wife says I over-dramatise. I think she over-exaggerates. Then again, can you over-exaggerate? If I say I have 10 grand in the bank it's an exaggeration and if I said 20 grand that would also be an exaggeration, or would that be an over-exaggeration? These internal dialogues can get quite heated and sometimes I have to stop talking to myself until I apologise.

My thoughts of simply stopping the bike and collapsing in a sobbing, argumentative heap are brought to an abrupt halt as I suddenly realise that, somehow, I'm outside the hotel Bilboquet. The Zumo reckons 11 hours to arrival at destination. "Shows how much you know" I silently sneer.

Plus point for the hotel, it has a closed garage so I only have to take one pannier off.

Minus point for the hotel, I'm on the second floor, it's stinking hot and I still have a pannier, tank bag, helmet, and gloves to carry up the stairs.

A quick shower and I'm off into town in search of cold beer. A pharmacy sign is flashing 37 degrees.



Eric says a lot about Le Puy but my plans for a spot of sight seeing are abandoned as firstly I've arrived much later than I thought and secondly I'm just too tired.

The first cold beer after a long day in the saddle has the curious effect of both relaxing and invigorating me so I have another just to check. Yep, invigorated and relaxed. So, invigorated and relaxed I head back to the hotel for, what turns out to be, an excellent dinner and I offer a silent apology to Le Puy for missing its remarkable history and a promise to come back one day.

A couple of pics I bagged getting back to the hotel.

Not a road I'd like to take the TB up....



It's on the pilgrims' route to Santiago de Compostela I believe



I think that's enough for now. I've probably outstayed my welcome as it is

 

Thanks crispey and Dave.

I think it's just distracting me from my lack of musical inspiration at the moment. It's fun though and I am enjoying it

 

Thanks, much appreciated I've thoroughly enjoyed putting it all together.

Rather than clog up this forum I did finally put together a blog. I've still got another 3 days to add to it but the Road to Nice is complete.

https://hadtheweatherbeendifferent.wordpress.com/2015/06/30/hello-world/

Little barsteward eh? That sounds about right