2022 European trip – A “tour de France”

[Rynglieder]

That viaduct pic is amazing, as are all your pics and info on your travels @Rynglieder.  I feel very lucky that you have taken the time to share this wonderful trip with us 

amazing Roman aquaduct - and near by is the Harabo sweet factory 
@GSXKING

I'll leave you guys to the Haribo, I'm not a fan.

I couldn't have smuggled you any back through customs either, the panniers were stuffed to the limits with dirty laundry 

[Rynglieder]

Day 9 Avignon > Villeneuve-Loubet (c. 205 miles)

After chalking off breakfast and extracting the GTR from the goods trolleys and guest's bikes in the garage I rolled out of Avignon for the start of what was going to be one of the 200+ mile rides of this trip.

The urban sprawl eventually gave way to some fast, flat, straight roads between fields of sunflowers and after half an hours riding I started to find the signs for Gordes. A more rural and bike-friendly road then took me up to the town viewpoint for a chance of a snap of this old hilltop town. It was then a five minute ride up the hill through narrowing streets before pitching up at the bottom of the chateau. I took a short walk, it was once again unbearably hot and I was conscious that I was on a longer run today so it was a case of just picking up a couple of cold bottles and absorbing a little of the town.

I left Gordes on more rural roads with a range of mountains on the horizon ahead of me. The morning's ride took me over the Luberon national nature park, with one minor road after another leading me eastwards. I was very much in the hands of the Zumo, but it seemed to be behaving. Not too far along the route I came upon Bonnieux, another old hilltop town where I pulled up again for the views across the hills.

Another mixed bag of roads followed, some fast flowing, others a bit tight and with the first poor surfaces I had encountered in France, low hills still surrounded me but the adjacent fields had given over from sunflower crops to lavender. Once I had reached Manosque I knew that the Luberon National Park was behind me, but once I had crossed the River Durance I would be entering another scenic area, the Verdon National Park.

Initially the roads were broad and smooth but progress was sub-optimal due to tourist's cars cruising to look at the lavender fields, a quick twist of the throttle here and there when safe added to my entertainment. The town of Riez was not a scheduled stop, but there was a nice shaded central car park and an inviting bar which looked a good bet for a coffee and although I had enjoyed the ride so far I was ready to get off for half an hour.

Under cloudless blue sky I reached the foot of the mountain range and took the opportunity to pull up at the end of the Pont du Galetas which spans the River Verdon at the head of Lake Sainte-Croix. Another drink was taken from the case and a quick photo before starting the ascent of the mountain, through the small town of Aiguines and climbing the Col d'illoire where a belvedere offered my camera views over the Verdon Gorge.

Next up was a 25 minute ride along a twisty road cut into the side of the hill along the Verdon gorge, well above river level with some precipitous drops to my left to make sure my concentration levels were where they should be. A break came when I reached the Pont de l'Artuby, a massive single arch concrete bridge spanning the gorge. After doing the business with the camera I took advantage of a handy kiosk on the car park for yet another drink, I seemed to have a permanent thirst that I couldn't shift.

The next section of my ride was no less pleasurable for leaving the Verdon behind, fast flowing easy roads took me between mountains and valleys and on to the Prealps-d'Azure National Park where at a roadside viewpoint above Gréolières I pulled up alongside another couple of bikes. The Greek riders asked me if I would take a picture of them with their machines and then offered to do the same for me, the result of which is at the head of this write-up. Knowing that I had the built up area of the South of France resorts ahead of me I mounted up and pushed on.
The decent to the Cote d'Azur was an unexpected pleasure, yet another twisty gorge road lead me into the maelstrom of traffic around Nice.  Again, I was having to be very aware of oncoming traffic, some vehicles just seemed to be a bit casual about their positioning, other times larger vehicles were forced into the middle of the road due to overhangs – don't go so fast that you can't stop within the distance you can see...

Eventually the Zumo was taking me through a curious selection of urban back streets, the bike was casting a long shadow in front of me and I could almost smell the Mediterranean when I came upon a major junction. As there was no parking at the apartment I had booked I had noted on Google Street View there were some motorcycle bays by the Colosseum (Horse racing track) which were only 100 metres or so away. "Turn right" said the Zumo, "turn left for the Colosseum" said the signs. I should have gone left but had already positioned the bike going by the Zumos' advance warning and in rush hour traffic a quick lane change would have been a bit dodgy. Needless to say I soon found myself on the main sea front dual carriageway heading for Nice when Antibes was the direction a gentleman about town should be going. I think it was about two miles before I came upon somewhere where I could take a couple of lefts and a right go get back in the right direction.

When I came upon the Colosseum I found that the motorcycle bays had been converted to rental bicycle racks but fortunately I had a Plan B. Another 100m beyond my apartment was a dead end road leading toward the beach with 20 or so motorcycle bays and I just grabbed the last end spot. The problem with it being a dead end road was that there was a regular flow of cars coming down and then having to do a three point turn, as I was unloading the bike I had to jump off the kerb and bang on the back of a hatchback which was just about to reverse into the bike and flatten it. I caught it just in time, it made contact but other than giving the mirror a knock back and misaligning the Innovv camera lens I got away with it. I resolved to get back to the bike as soon as I was set up in the apartment and try and shift it to a better space if possible.

The apartment was on the basic side but no more or less than I expected for what was a (relatively) low rental cost – it would do. I unpacked all of the luggage, figured out how everything worked and walked back up to the bike. The evening was drawing in and the beach must have started to clear as there were now plenty of free bays in less vulnerable positions so I repositioned the bike and continued to walk up the road to the supermarket to get food for three days and a capsule for the washing machine – I had remembered to bring one from home but it had succumbed to the battering it had got in transit.

The last hour of the day's journey had been a bit of a pain but it was easily compensated by the riding I had enjoyed earlier.

[Rynglieder]

A few more Day 9 photos...

[Yetiman]

WOW, What a great trip/write-up thanx for sharing mate...

[Rynglieder]

Day 10 Nice (c. 20 miles)

I spent my first morning on the Cote d'Azur carrying out the duties of Designated Washerwoman (after sending some photos home of the washing machine controls to obtain guidance from my wife who is a semi-professional in these matters). I lounged around for a while, sometimes under the air-conditioning unit and sometimes on the balcony with cold drink and cigarette but once my clean clothes were in the sun on the rack I decided I had already had enough of beach holidays. I know there are people who sit on a beach or by a pool all day drinking, but it's not for me – I get too restless. I decided I would reassure myself that the bike had survived the night and have a run into Nice.

It would be hard to get lost on this ride, just stay on the coast road with the sea on my right. Nevertheless once I reached the Old Town in Nice that road would take me no further and I suddenly realised it had become an access road to an underground car park. By luck there was a whole row of motorcycles and scooters parked up alongside the ramp so it seemed a good idea to join the throng and take a walk on foot. At least with the paniers now empty I could ditch the jacket and helmet and set off in tee shirt and jeans.

Even so I was extremely over-dressed and it was an uncomfortable slog up the paths past the Tour Bellanda and up to the Colleen du Chateau, a bit of a park with good views over the resort. I wound my way down through the streets of the old town past the cathedral, through a couple of parks and back to the Promenade des Angles where I got a decent sandwich  and cold drink before going back to the area where the bike was parked.
As my jacket had been left in the panniers my phone and wallet were in the camera back-pack which I had been carrying around with me. I dropped the bag in the top case and recall feeling it seemed oddly difficult to close, not thinking about it too deeply I heaved the jacket back on and set about the ride "home".

On returning to the parking area and making sure I was well out of the firing line of turning vehicles I tried to unload the bike. I turned the key in the top case and pushed the button to open the lid, but it wouldn't release. Thee lock was free allowing the button to be pressed, but the button just wouldn't release the catch.  After spending half an hour at the roadside fiddling with it in the unrelenting heat I decided to take off the box completely and carry it down to the apartment where I could be under the air-conditioning and hopefully get a bit more pressure on the button by pressing downwards if it was on its back.

Thankfully the apartment keys were in the pocket of my jeans so I went indoors and poked and prodded for another 10 minutes, then moving on to attacking it with any likely looking item of cutlery I could find in the kitchen drawer. The lid was eventually raised by 50-10mm and I now had a collection of spoons and forks with bent handles and a busted fruit knife – not much to show for my efforts.

I was getting nowhere and some third party assistance was required. My thoughts turned to the breakdown cover included with my Carol Nash insurance policy, I felt it was a "locked out of vehicle situation" and they would surely put me in touch with someone even if it was not covered.

But my phone was in my top case, as was my wallet and all of my documents with contact numbers and policy details... If I was staying in a hotel I would probably have got some help from reception but I was on my own here in a private rental, so what is to be done?

There was a total of eight Euros in loose change in my jeans pocket, so I picked up the whole box with the intention of lugging it across the street where there was a café bar, I hoped I would be able to demonstrate my problem and offer them the bit of cash I had to make a call home where one of the family should be able to pull up the files on my computer and try to sort something out.

It was well into the evening now and I had a nasty feeling the café would be closed, it was really for daytime beach-goer trade, but as I descended the steps with a very heavy case in my hands I met a fellow resident coming up – I tried my luck. Fortunately although a Russian lady, she spoke some English and quickly grasped my problem. As good as gold, she loaned me her phone and would not take my little money, but I was still stuck – no one picked up the phone at home. The problem in these modern times is that very few people carry phone numbers in their head, everything is locked up in your nasty little pocket device, 20 years ago I could have reeled off the numbers for most of my friends, relations, clients and suppliers but not now. Suddenly I realised that I could trawl up my sister's number from the depths of my frazzled grey matter so I want back to my new Russian friend and begged the loan of her phone again. She still would not take my money but did ask if I had any cigarettes as hers had been stolen from her on the beach that afternoon, sadly my packet of Chesterfield was also in the top case.

I got hold of Baby Sister straight away and put my problem in front of her, there was nothing more to be done than wait to see if I got a call back on the phone that had kindly been left with me. I sat down half watching French television at the same time as idly probing the gap between the case lid and base – suddenly it sprang open on a push of the button. I grabbed my own phone from my back-pack and called my sister to tell her to abandon trying to do anything. She replied that she was glad that I had got out of trouble because she was having a right argument with Carol Nash who told her that the Claims Department would not open until Monday so they would not do anything – it's something I will need to dig deeper into come insurance renewal time I think.

I returned the Russian lady's phone and split my recovered packet of cigarettes with her. At least I could go to bed knowing that I had access to my possessions and that there are still some people in the world who will go out of their way to help a stranger. An annoying episode really, usually my phone and wallet would always be zipped inside my jacket inner pocket, the heat had driven the jacket away in Nice, but I won't be locking them in any of the bike's cases in future.

[Rynglieder]

Day 11 - Around the Cote d'Azur (c. 40 miles)

There is a question that is sometimes thrown out; "What one item would you save from your burning house?" It was the opposite scenario this morning, what could I put in my top case that I could afford to lose? Although I had got it open it still didn't feel right and I was reluctant to snap it shut in case I lost access to its contents or lost luggage space if it was empty. It was not a problem for now though, most stuff could stay in the apartment for the day whilst I figured it out. No hotel breakfast was waiting for me so I took the short walk to the café across the road, bagged a shady table and set about getting myself around a coffee and sandwich.

The intention for this phase of the trip was to allow myself a break from riding if I needed it, a relaxed couple of days. Even so, there were still things I wanted to take a look at and I had no problem with saddling up for a short ride.

First up was the road out toward Nice again, but this time my destination was just on the western outskirts. When searching for accommodation in the area nearly every apartment and hotel had proudly proclaimed how close to the Russian Orthodox Cathedral it was, so I was left with the impression that this edifice was a "must see". I hadn't really thought it through though, after fighting through the congestion in the streets around it I realised that Sunday is a bit of a busy day for churches. I managed to cram the GTR into a gap between some cars and take a souvenir photo from outside the fence, but decided not to go any further or get involved with the singing to god.

Next on the list was the Cascade de Gairaut. This is basically a water works, but built in an attractive chalet style with a cascade of water tumbling from below it to a pool further down the hillside. From the cathedral it was a bit of a back-street commute climbing the mountains that sit behind Nice, the Zumo got me up there OK although it seemed an odd choice of streets and I found myself riding through a large steel automatic gate that rather worryingly had a flashing red beacon on the post. No other vehicles were parked at the bottom of the cascade and in fact there was a singular absence of cascade. The chalet was there above me, no water flowing, rocks a dry as bone and an empty pool. Realising there was nothing for me here and being slightly concerned that the automatic gate might have intentions of locking me in, I U-turned the bike a beat a brave retreat.

Two visits, two disappointments – what's next? Stop number three was just outside the village of La Turbie and contrary to its instructions the Zumo plonked me on a motorway as soon as it thought I was not looking. In truth I got over it pretty quickly, it is the fastest way to travel from West to East across here, it was also nice to have some wind around me given that it was yet again 30+ degrees. There was a small toll of a couple of Euros to pay on exit but it was worth it. I stopped in La Turbie as a café seemed to be beckoning me and a coffee was almost due.
The bike was moved off the village street and moved to a proper car park outside my destination so that I could more safely leave it for an hour. But it was not to be – as soon as I walked up to the entrance to the Trophy of Augustus I spotted a sign that even with my minimal French told me that it was closed today for a special event. The Trophy of Augustus is a huge Roman monument perched on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean with a bit of a park around it. I was not going to get to see it close up but I could at least access the belvedere at the end of the car park which offered some stunning views over Monaco. With another visit aborted I had time on my hand so went and had another walk around the beautiful old streets of La Turbie. At least as I left the village I spotted in my mirror that there was a nice view of the monument albeit from a distance so I pulled up and took the shot.

No far away was the Tete de Cien mountain outcrop, I rode in in hope rather than expectation given the day so far and wasn't very shocked when I came to the "Road closed ahead" sign on approach. I flicked the GTR around it intending to play my Stupid Foreigner card if challenged and managed to park the bike just before the barrier and made a start on walking the rest of the way up the road. It may all have been more enjoyable on a cooler day, I passed an old fort that had been converted to some new undefined use perhaps an observatory or radar station judging by the dome, some roofless barrack buildings that could perhaps have been explored further and then up to the headland for more views of the sea and the coastal towns below.
Deciding that the day had been a bit of a wash-out I turned back for the apartment. Naturally the Zumo had been having second thoughts and although this time I wanted to use the motorway it thought I should ride the Grande Corniche past the hilltop town of Eze. Eze might also have been worth a look but there didn't seem to be any obvious parking for the bike so I rode on a short distance and chanced upon a layby that offered views back up to the town and the sea below. It also had the benefit of a kiosk where I got a hot sandwich and a couple of cold drinks under a parasol.

It was to tedious and congested ride back down to the coast road and back to the apartment, by this time I had even abandoned the gloves and I was discovering that sweaty digits did not make for easy clutch control but after the bike was parked up in its regular spot and some of the gear put away in the apartment I could finish the day off with a beer across the street before going back to my air-conditioning and bed.

There had been several disappointments with the destinations and not many miles of really good riding but I reckoned there were probably a couple of decent photos caught of the better bits of the day to reflect on.

[Rynglieder]

...and a few more Day 11 photos...

[Rynglieder]

Day 12 – Antibes (c. 7 miles)

Monaco and Menton were under consideration for a ride out on my last full day on the Med but I really didn't fancy the traffic and the heat. Instead, after a bit of a lazy morning I set the bike off in the opposite direction for the three and a half mile run along the coast to Antibes. For a short run I risked travelling without gloves, abandoned the boots in favour of a pair of trainers and completed the journey with my jacket open to the waist. The aforementioned jacket was wedged into a pannier on the Fort Carré car park and I crossed the road in anticipation of a walk around it. Closed on Mondays – hey ho.

Instead I took a stroll around the perimeter of the fort which bought me out on Antibes harbour. I think this was one of the biggest collections of super-yachts I have ever seen. Presumably there is some serious money around but it's never been in my nature to be envious or even overly impressed and I was happy to walk on by content with what life has given me.

Passing through an arch in the town wall I came into the Old Town area, this was a bit of a pleasant surprise, I had not researched Antibes for the trip so I was unsure what to expect, I suppose I had anticipated it would be beach-side apartments and high end shops but I found narrow back streets full of charming old houses as well as the bars and restaurants in the shopping streets that you would expect. I sat down outside a café bar to a late lunch of pizza washed down with two bottles of alcohol-free beer.

There was an unremarkable ride back to the apartment, although there was a fair bit left of the day I just wanted to get back and start packing so that I could vacate my accommodation quickly in the morning meaning that I could move on to the mountains– the Cote d'Azur by motorcycle had been a bit of a failed experiment.

[Rynglieder]

Day 13 -Villeneuve-Loubet > Eygliers (c.174 miles)

It really didn't take long to clean up the apartment and get everything re-packed on the bike, there was time for a last quick coffee and roll at the café across the street that had served me well during my stay in Villeneuve-Loubet and after taking a precautionary fill-up with fuel I had a very short ride to pick up the motorway, it just seemed the most sensible way of getting clear of the heat and traffic on the Cote d'Azur, the mountains and some cooler air were beckoning.

A few Euros were parted with at the toll barrier just north of Menton and I was straight onto the twisty roads, most of the days ride would be following the Route des Grandes Aples. Not only were the roads a joy to ride but the scenery was also stunning with mountains either side forming a gorge that took me ever northwards.

First up on my route planning today was Sospel. In truth it was only put in as a way point to get me on the right road away from the coast but when I arrived there it seemed like an attractive place to stop, I'd gone an hour and a half since setting out and although it was already noticeably cooler there were still unbroken blue skies above and it was probably not much less than thirty degrees up here so a handy Spar store provided a couple of cold bottles, one to take now by the river and one to keep in the top case if I needed something later out in the wilds.

Leaving Sospel continuing on the D2566, the road continued in the same vein although hairpins were becoming more frequent. I seemed to be sharing the road with very little other traffic and a high proportion of what there was seemed to be motorcyclists and cyclists.  Beyond Moulinet the road surface was a bit patchy in places. It felt like I had been climbing forever but eventually I reached a summit with parking opportunities outside the Hotel des Trois Vallees where I could shrug off the jacket and sit down with a drink and a sandwich and watch other bikes come and go.
What goes up must come down, thus started a period of descent on the serpentine M70, every bend revealing a new and beautiful view. My downhill ride ended when I reached the valley floor where the River Vestubie runs and the bike was turned to follow it upstream on the M2565. This road way curvy rather than twisty and of a more consistent gradient so the GTRs velocity could be picked up a little. Another climb started beyond Saint-Martin –Vestubie and crested just before Valdelore. The zumo seemed to think I should be making a right turn after the village but if there was actually a road to take it was so minor I coudldn't see it. I got the usual demands to U-turn for a mile or so and feeling that I was running blind pulled up to check on a paper map. All good, I just had to follow the road I was on through some hairpins until it dropped into the valley of the Tinée.

Now it was time to follow the Tinée northwards, passing through Saint-Sauveur-sur-Tinée and on to the Isola. As before this river valley road was a much easier and quicker ride than over the mountain summits and the miles rolled swiftly on. In need of another break I pulled into the village of Saint-Étienne-de-Tinée and parked the bike in the town square where I took the liberty of plunging my arms up to the elbow in to town's fountain for a couple of minutes to cool off again in the cold mountain water it was drawing.

My journey resumed with a steep and twisty climb, the trees had now disappeared leaving a much more rugged grass covered mountain landscape and eventually I passed the the ruined buildings of the Camp de Fourches – presumably an old military camp, a large blockhouse stood on a nearby summit, seemingly inaccessible. I seemed a good place to stop for a couple of photos.

The Road continued its upward path for another 10 minutes and I found myself at the point I had plotted into the Zumo as the Col de la Bonette. It seemed a bit anticlimactic somehow, I was expecting a marker, or a café, or some Frenchman jumping out to kiss me on both cheeks and pin a medal on me, but no, nothing...* the bike swung round following the Zumo's course and began a descent but I felt that I deserved to get off again and spotting a bit of a pull-in by some old concrete bunkers I helped myself to a rest and another photo or two.

I had the urge to stop at almost every turn to take photos as I sprilled downwards but largely resisted it in the hope that the Innovv camera was picking up images that I could look back on at home. After one photo stop I found myself re-joining the road behind a Dutch motorcyclist  who was progressing just a little slower than I might have on a clear road, but not slow enough to make me want to overtake so I settled in behind him at a soothing pace and enjoyed the views. After about 15 minutes of this gentle pursuit he pulled over and I heard him call to me as I passed; quickly turning back to him he asked me if I wanted coffee, "do you know somewhere?" I enquired. It seemed that he had everything he needed on the bike including an electric element he could plug into the bike so we saat nad chatted at the roadside for a while before moving on.

The mountain road ended at a junction with the more major D900 at Jausiers and the pace was again picked up even if only for a short while as the Fort de Tournoux called for the attention of my camera. A quick snap later I was back on the bike and turning off to begin yet another mountain climb.

The sun was dropping low now and frequently in my eye-line, at least the shadow from the mountains was making for much cooler and comfortable riding. Another mountain road was crested and then I dropped down through the ski resort of Vars. The road then became faster flowing and I was soon delivered into Guillestre and another 10 minutes on I was pulling into the covered motorcycle parking of the Hotel Lacour at Mont-Dauphin-Gare.

Once I had finally worked out where the hotel reception was (in the bar / restaurant, not the accommodation building!) I quickly got changed and settled down on one of the tables on the terrace for a meal and a drink or two. It had been a perfect day's ride and I was looking forward to something similar the following day.

*In retrospect, when I got home I realised I had missed a loop road that would have given me the summit of the Col de la Bonette and the viewpoint and marker stone that I felt I deserved. All the more reason to go back and do it again one day.

[Rynglieder]

Day 14 - Eygliers > Bourg-Saint-Maurice (c. 155 miles)

If the reception at the Hotel Locour was hard to find the breakfast room was just as much of a challenge but I unearthed it behind a door off the tobacco and lottery kiosk. I had a little to eat and then packed up the bike before setting off north again.

Next planned stop was Briançon, and although there was a quicker more direct route it was my plan to ride the balcony road in the Gorges du Guil and then go over the Col de Izoard. Who wants to get quickly from A to B when there are such promising alternatives?

Another valley road (D902) lay ahead of me, taking me through the Gorges de Guil although progress was impeded by a coach tailing a queue of traffic including a quarry wagon. I was conscious of a group of bikes behind me seeming overly anxious to pass so I pulled off the road briefly to allow them by, They did not really fare any better than me and within a couple of minutes I was back in at their tail once more waiting for safe opportunities to overtake. One by one our time came and we cleared the coach and were able to enjoy the road at our own pace.

I stayed with the D902 to pass through the alpine villages of Arvieux and La Chalp, this section of the road was a gently curving climb and the legal speed limit could comfortably be maintained but soon the bends became tighter and the road steepened, my pace was slowed by struggling cyclists around every bend.

It was a beautiful ride up and over the Col d'Izoard and of course there was the odd roadside stop or two for pictures but all too soon the decent through the hairpins was over and I reached the village of Cervières at the floor of the valley.

Now the D902 turned west and perched on mountainside ledges as it followed the course of the river Cerveyrette and soon Briançon came into view. Compared with the other places I had ridden through since leaving Nice this was a positive metropolis with traffic congestion to suit. I commuted my way through the lower more modern town and to my pre-planned parking spot just outside the gates to Vauban's fortified town that sits atop the hill.

I had a bit of time off the bike which included a walk up to the lower ramparts of the fort to take in the views and then down a couple of the old town streets before winding up outside a café by the Porte de Pignerol (gate) where I sat down with an alcohol-free beer. Yet another place that I barely scratched the surface of and is deserving of another visit in the future.

Leaving Briançon I continued north, now on the D1091 a relatively flat straight valley road with the mountains now pushed out to the margins but perhaps being more impressive for being viewed from a slight distance. Eventually I did a right turn for the Col du Galbier, this road having once again been designated the D902. At the Refuge du Galbier (2556m) I found a café just ahead of the tunnel entrance so I took the opportunity to stop for a coffee and enjoy some of the first cool air I had experienced for a while.

Leaving the café I had the option of the tunnel or a road opposite that would spiral a little higher to the mountain summit. Not being sure how I was fixed for time I chose the tunnel, something that I look back on with a little regret and have now added to the "next time" list. The inevitable twisty, downhill run followed, bottoming out in the valley of the Valloirette where more gentle bends and better visibility of the road ahead allowed speed to pick up again.

As I passed through the Valloire ski resort I spotted a Carrefour mini market and knowing my supply of dinks on board was low it seemed a good place to make a purchase. I swung into the car park flicked the side stand down and dismounted, the next thing I know the bike was coming over on me and pushing me to the ground on my back. I'm not 100% sure what happened, maybe I didn't throw the stand down fully, but it's never happened before. Most likely the front wheel found its way into a pothole as I took my weight of the bike, I had seen the surface looked rough but from my approach angle it didn't look that bad. Looking back on Google Street View from a side-on when I got home it looks more like a wannabe sink hole.

It took the assistance of two Frenchmen and a woman supervising to get the bike back on its rubber. It had picked up a few large scuffs of white thermoplastic paint on the fairing and pannier from the road crossing markings but I reckoned it was superficial and would mostly clean up when I had the means to hand.

I wasn't going to let it spoil my day though, with a couple of cold bottles now in the case I still had mountains to ride. This descent and chapter was closed at Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne where a right turn took me onto the D1006 for a little ride eastwards in order to pick up the foot of the next mountain pass. I indulged in a brief roadside stop to catch a picture of Fort Victor-Emmanuelle which looked very impressive as it spread up the mountainside, but feeling under a little time pressure again I pushed on.

Once again for a while the road was gentle in gradient and curve so I could still soak up the scenery and make good progress. After the village of Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis I left the D1006 for the D902 and began the climb to Bonneval-sur-Arc, as the altitude increased the road became a little more severe and twisty and once more the vegetation had thinned to grassland or bare mountains. I risked a quick stop before the summit but I now realised I was more nervous or parking the bike than riding it, I had now taken to stopping it in gear to prevent any unwanted movement.

I took a little while longer off the bike at the summit of the Col de l'Iseran (2770m) it was probably going to be my last stop before the night's hotel and there was so much to take in including a walk across to the small church of Notre-dame de Toute Prudence.

Dropping down from the Col de l'Iseran gave further stunning views and the road finally started to level out at Val d'Isere, once more following the bottom of a river valley the road being interspersed with tunnels and galleries for a faster ride and so before long I reached my day's final destination of Bourg-Saint-Maurice.

At the Hotel Basecamp Lodges I was given underground garage parking without charge for the bike although cars usually have to pay. The whole building was almost brand new, although the room was a bit on the basic side it would do nicely for the two nights I had booked. The layout is a little strange my room on floor -3 was the same level as the car park which I had to walk through each time I needed to visit the reception or restaurant. The route round the hotel could be a little better signed but I soon got the hang of it and on a couple of occasions over the that day and the next found myself having to direct newly arrived guests lost in the car park.

After a shower and change I walked the length of the town and not finding a Michelin three star establishment anywhere settled on McDonalds before returning to the hotel for a couple of beers on the terrace overlooking the mountains before bed. As I relaxed my thoughts turned to the day's mishap; at home we have a cat, "Ace", when he's tired on a hot day he tends to amble into the lounge and just plonk himself down on his side. Usually at this moment I point at him and go "ha ha, fell over!" I wonder if the GTR was doing the same thing...

[Rynglieder]

A few more Day 14 pictures...

[frenchgixxer]

fantastic scenary!

[Rynglieder]

Day 15 Around Bourg-Saint-Maurice (2 miles)

It was always my intention to have this as a "day off" from riding, a little bit of space in the schedule to rest or deal with any maintenance etc. that was required before turning the bike toward home.

I did fancy a ride on the funicular railway up to Les Arcs, the nearby mountain summit but inevitably it was closed for maintenance, so I contented myself with a long walk taking in the town and around the banks of the Isère river which in this location broadens to give the appearance of a lake.

The only time the bike came out of the garage was to visit the local supermarket to pick up some bits and refuel ready for the next day. An evening meal of sorts on the hotel's terrace with its mountain views and then off to bed.

[Rynglieder]

Day 16 Bourg-Saint-Maurice > Le Puy (c. 210 miles)

Although slightly over 200 miles was inked in for the day, a good chunk of it would be motorway – there is no real alternative way go get out of town quickly but at least I would cover some ground in the morning and leave time to linger in the attractive parts during the afternoon.

I left the motorway some way short of Lyon and rode through some unremarkable countryside to Vienne where my first proper stop of the day had been plucked from the guide book. It was a case of carefully riding around the town centre until I could see a motorcycle bay that I could manoeuvre into and this done I set off on foot to reach the Temple of Augustus and Livia, a huge roman edifice set in a square. Having captured my pictures and sorted out a coffee it was time to move on.

Vienne was left behind as I followed the River Rhone for a short while but there was much more motorway and dual carriageway riding to do before I sighted an exit for the Gorges de la Loire near Unieux. Finally I was riding along the beautiful valley of the Loire and looking forward to some more entertaining riding for the afternoon.

A very enjoyable series of roads lead me to Retournac where I parked up near the river bridge for a short walk and a coffee at a handy café. More sweeping bends alongside the Loire took me through Vorey and onward until I reached the small city of Le Puy. Once again garage parking was provided for me at the Ibis Le Puy en Vallee Centre and after settling into the room having a shower and a change I had plenty of time to spend during the evening exploring the city.

I was attracted to Le Puy by images I had seen of three monuments; Rocher Saint-Michel d'Aiguilhe which is a chapel sat on an 82m high spike of rock, another isolated peak in the town is crowned with the statue of Notre-Dame de France and finally, set on another hilltop is the city's cathedral. A walk round the outside of the city centre brought all of these in front of the camera before I ventured into the city's centre for a bit of atmosphere and an evening drink.

[GSXKING]

Those columns in the building look like they're pock marked by perhaps gun fire
Stunning buildings that were made to last imho 👌👌