Mountains, forests, ferries, beaches and more amazing bends than the Olympic gymnastics in Paris… I've had a busy month in France. Now, I can't say I came home with any medals and I haven't actually spent the past 30 days on the snail-eating side of the Channel… but it does almost feel like it. More importantly, the riding was consistently gold standard.
My first trip was meant to be my holiday. I had a week to play with while my partner and her kids went to Wales. Did I want to join them? Hmmm... or did I want to ride a bike to Corsica? Tough decision.
Despite it being a holiday, I managed to introduce an element of work into the trip by borrowing a bike from Triumph, to do a story about Corsica for Bike magazine. I was on a Scrambler 1200 XE – inspired by Kevin Saunders, who'd ridden one across Africa on one of his Globebusters expeditions. If it could cope with that, I knew it'd be able to cope with anything Corsica could throw at it.
As I hunched in the saddle on the first few miles out of Calais on the A26, I wasn't entirely certain it'd cope with everything the motorway makers of France could fling at it. I don't think I've done a big-mile trip on a naked bike since the Nineties and frankly it was hard work… but I did think my licence had never been so safe. The Scrambler was lovely at 60mph, quite breezy at 70mph and pulling the 81mph that's the 130kph autoroute speed limit required an effort of will. Frankly I couldn't get off onto the quieter roads fast enough.
I was testing a new route south, linking some old-favourite roads with some that were new to me. I've been adding daytrips to the France page based on these, working my way south into the Vercors alps and down to the gorges of the Mercantor alps, on my way to Nice for an overnight ferry to Corsica. I arrived stupidly early but at least that meant I had time for a decent meal and some people-watching in the hazy evening sunshine before claiming pole position on the ferry ahead of half-a-dozen French bikers.
I won't talk too much about Corsica – you'll need to keep an eye out for the issue of Bike that has the story. Suffice it to say that three days there was absolutely fantastic. While there was still the standard cocktail of wildlife to deal with (wild boar, goats, domestic pigs, cows, donkeys) the big revelation was the roads.
I'd been expecting a mix of marvelous tarmac with some rough sections and – as on every previous visit – a few miles somewhere that had been dug-up and left as dirt. Not a bit of it. The past few years have clearly been busy for the Corsican road-builders and almost all of the island was immaculate. Wonderful... though if I'd know how perfect the surfaces were I'd maybe have asked Triumph for a Speed Triple RS instead of a Scrambler.
It felt like I'd only been home for ten minutes (actually it was six days) before I was heading back to Folkestone for the Chickenstrips tour of the French Alps. Despite booking an early crossing, a long-winded security faff that pulled the whole group in meant we missed our train and had to take the next one. Grrr.
After that, things ran more smoothly. Off across Northern France to Verdun, then into the Jura mountains – with the heavens opening just as we were trying to park the bikes. The next day was damp, so I adjusted the route on the fly (all very well until I overruled the sat nav and took us 10 miles in the wrong direction) but the weather began to improve as we left the refuge on Col du Galibier and our final run to our hotel was majestic in the sunshine.
This was a great group to ride with. Everyone had toured with us before and they not only rode well but also all got on off the bikes. We stopped for two nights in Castellane, riding a circular loop that took in the Gorges du Verdon but also some of my other favourite little roads in the area… part of my ongoing mission to produce Heineken-style tours, reaching the parts other tours can't reach.
That said, of course, you can't come down here and not tick off the big-name roads as well, so we cherry-picked the best bits of Route Napoleon and the Route des Grandes Alpes as well, heading back through the Vercors – where the rain caught up with us again, but only for an afternoon. Our final run back was dry, fun and efficient.
Now I'm back at the desk, wondering where all the time has gone. We have one more tour to do in just a few weeks… and then I'll be planning next year's fun.
Comments