clairedavieswriter

My end-to-end of France is complete.

With only a few characteristic hiccups, Guillaume the Garmin has led me from one end of the country to the other, and the trusty Bernard has carried me up hill and down dale, on tarmac, gravel, grass, cobblestones and farmers’ tracks, without complaint – and without a puncture.
Together, in 17 days on the bike, Team Bernard have covered 1,362.2 km / 846.4 miles (not counting the 174.9 km in Spain).
We’ve travelled from the pines of Les Landes, through the vines of the Gironde, and across the vast arable plains of central France to the battlefields of Flanders.
We’ve pedalled through the fine cities of Bordeaux, Angoulême and Chartres, and countless tiny villages that were often too small for a shop but were rarely without a church.
We’ve crossed great rivers, from the Bidassoa, which marks the border with Spain, to the Garonne, Dordogne, Charente, Vienne, la Loire, le Loir, the Indre, the Seine and the Somme.
We’ve battled the north wind and come out on top, at Bray Dunes, the most northerly point in France.
With hindsight, it would have been much easier riding north to south, with the wind on my back. But I’m glad I did it this way, because I know I earned it (and clearly I’m a masochist).
Overall, and setting aside the weather, my takeaway (once again) is that cycling in France is a delight.

There are plenty of reasons why, starting with the brilliantly signposted cycle routes, whether on roads or dedicated voies vertes

Speaking of roads – drivers are so patient and respectful that you rarely feel in danger. When overtaking a bike, most vehicles cross the centre line. And if they’re near a corner, they wait. When coming towards you on a narrow country lane, they start driving on the verge way before they get to you. And more often than not, they’ll give way to bikes crossing a road, even when they don’t have to. But if you pick your route carefully, traffic is rarely an issue in any case:

Obviously, the boulangeries have to get a mention. Pop in for breakfast, come out with lunch and tea at the same time. A nutritionist might say otherwise, but I’m convinced pains au chocolat make the best cycling fuel

And there’s nothing like the reassurance of having a well-stuffed baguette strapped to your panniers when you’re setting off into the vast emptiness of rural France.

Talking of food, it has to be said that maintaining a strict vegetarian diet while taking on enough fuel for cycling is difficult in France, outside large cities. For a non fish eating vegetarian, I’ve had a lot of tuna. I haven’t eaten out often, but when I did, veggie options were limited. In Chartres, there was just one, so when I told the waiter I was vegetarian he just said: “Le veggie burger alors!” and relieved me of the menu. Biarritz was a pleasant exception:

Belatedly, and thanks to my Dutch amis de route, Jan and Gerthe, I had a coffee epiphany. After many disappointing grands crèmes, and insipid cafés au lait, I finally realised that black was the way to go, so from now on it’s un allongé s’il vous plaît

There are so many other things I love about France in general: the greetings and farewells that punctuate every interaction, with special ones reserved for travellers; the lunchtime closing – somehow the world doesn’t end; the Salle de Fêtes in every village, which sounds so much jollier than Village Hall. One village even had a communal walnut grove

And I find it charming that even the tiniest village generally has a signboard explaining where the local places of interest are, even though the residents must know already, and visitors are unlikely to need them

If there was one thing that concerned me, particularly in central France, it was that, if I had a mechanical problem, it would be a very long walk to find help. My solution was just not to think about it, in the hope that if anything happened, a guardian angel would appear, as they did last year. Fortunately, Bernard sailed through without needing assistance from anyone, aside from regular applications of chain oil. Fingers crossed things stay that way through Belgium and beyond…