Friday 7th October to Sunday 9th October
Roche de Glun to La Voulte sur Rhone
This morning our world has changed from how little can we wear - to - have we brought enough warm clothes. Suddenly as monsieur said at breakfast ‘Hiver sont arrivé’ and he wasn’t joking, it is perishing. Looking on the bright side though, the sun cream was about to run out so we won’t be needing that anymore and the incredibly strong wind was blowing from behind us, so would speed us on our way.
We crossed the Isere river shortly after taking a quick look at Roche de Glun, nothing very interesting there, and there was a marked contrast in the colours of the waters where the 2 rivers met. The wind was whistling from the North East off the Alps so no doubt they are getting the first snow up there. Skiing is advertised as only being 1 hour away which is a curious thought.
In this photo to the right is the Isere river and the left the Rhone, if we had a motorized canoe we could be in Val d’Isere in no time.
We headed into Valance which seemed nice enough but the tourist office were so keen to be off for their lunch hour, they had locked the door between me going in and Alec finishing locking the bikes. They couldn’t wait to get rid of me and just told me that there was no longer a velo route and that the path - it had ‘terminee’d.
We had a hot cup of coffee to cheer and warm ourselves up but didn’t stay in the city for long. As it happened we found an excellent route marked ‘le Drome a velo’ which took us a long way, along the edge of the River and on some minor roads.
Occasionally it was necessary to cross the river and the bridges were quite a challenge as there was a very strong cross wind. We also came across the first marina that we’d seen, full of Sunseekers presumably up from the Med for the winter.
Abandoned nearby was the remains of an old steamboat which apparently had caught fire and sunk in 1837 but despite the evidence in front of us we were a bit sceptical!!
Anyway, after many miles of more river bank etc we were cold and tired enough to try to find a hotel in the town of La Voulte sur Rhone- back on the Ardeche west bank now. This town had definitely seen better days with only 1 hotel remaining open and I should think it is not going to last many more years either. The lady who owned it commandeered us on the side of the road, bossed us about a lot in a cheerful manner and before we knew it, had our bikes locked away and our money taken for the night. It was in fact perfectly comfortable and warm, but I don’t think she is much bothered by what standard of food is produced. We looked at Tripadvisor and it was full of people telling one DO NOT stay here. We decided to play safe and eat out, so looked around the town on foot.
You could wind your way up tiny alleys to the top of the hill where there was an enormous old chateau in ruins above the river with the wind whistling through the broken panes. They are beginning to do it up in small patches but it will take a long time.
We found a tiny bistro at the furthest end of town which served the local speciality of Crique, a new one on us.
This is my crique!!
It is pretty similar to Rosti (Swiss grated potatoes) fried and served with any amount of variations. Alec went the full Swiss bit and had raclette and ham, I had chicken in wine sauce;Both very good, warm and filling. We arrived at the bistro at about 7.15 when Granny and granddaughter (aged about 4) were in charge, the place was fully laid up but we were the only people there, would it be like this all evening? Shortly afterwards another couple came in and then another and soon Granny and granddaughter looked as if they were about to crack under the pressure when suddenly in comes grandson plus cousins and friends (aged about 10) from football practice plus Mum and Dad who within seconds had their pinnies on and were swooping around the room taking orders and chatting to all of the guests. It was a real French family bistro (Le Petit Creux). Thank heavens we went there and didn’t accept madam’s offer of dinner on our own at the miserable hotel.
Saturday 8th October.
La Voulte s/R to Pierrelatte
In the morning we watched enough of France v England to know the French were going to run circles around us so ate our overpriced breakfast and departed. Madame said it was madness to contemplate crossing the river and trying to ride down the east bank as it was all industrialized and motorways – too dangerous. So we settled for the Regional road (as opposed to National) and headed off. With the tailwind we found ourselves easily ploughing UP hills at 8 – 10 mph and going down a scary 26 was achieved before we applied the brakes for fear of a potential fatal accident! You couldn’t really describe the west bank as being particularly rural either as for about 10 miles they were demolishing the hill and converting whatever they were mining into cement. Ingeniously however they had transformed a huge disused and crumbling Abbey built along the roadside and river into their cement factory which seems like an excellent way to breathe new life into an old monastery and town walls.
There are two Logis in Andeol; one is a foodie’s paradise and way, way too expensive for us travellers and the other is in the town centre and is perfect. But not today, they were closed for a private party. Vivi persisted and eventually Le Monsieur remembered that 4k’s away across the river was the town of Pierrelatte which had a hotel in the centre next to the church. It took us a while to find our way out of Bourg but eventually an elderly lady walked with us for a couple of hundred yards to make sure we were going the right way and sure enough we were crossing the Rhone (again) and heading into Pierrelatte into the head wind which was very hard work. We found the hotel and were greeted by a blast of warm air as we entered our only thought being ‘oh please God put us out of our misery and let us stay here) we had after all by now been pedalling for 6 hours and done 42.5 miles and were quite saddle sore and weary!
Monsieur was a great guy, mucked us about in a friendly way for a bit said he couldn’t do a bath only a shower and then came up trumps with bath, soda for whisky in fact everything we needed, and to think they had just beaten us at rugby- they were too polite to even mention it!
There were 7 restaurants where we could have supper, as it was so cold we opted from almost the nearest. A traditional pizzeria which didn’t only do pizzas but all kinds of viande as well plus lashings of vin de la region – life suddenly was looking a whole lot better.
Sunday 9th October.
Pierrelatte to Orange
We slept like logs last night and never even heard the church clock strike until 7. Church clocks and railway lines have been beside our hotels all along the way. It is lovely to hear the bells ringing and most of the churches have 2 clocks on them, which seem to be set 3 minutes apart so there is no excuse to be late for anything! The trains fortunately don’t run much at night either.
I asked our hotelier’s wife the history of the town and region as Pierrelatte seems to be rather stuck in the middle of nowhere with a large nuclear station nearby, but also a rather charming old town centre. She said that there used to be a giant in the region who had a pebble stuck in his backside, which irritated him a lot. So he went to Mount Ventoux (that of Tour de France fame, and which takes up a lot of the horizon) sat and wriggled upon it until he was able to expel the pebble -And that is where the town is now! Well -not quite the answer I was expecting but a lot more entertaining!
We then had the best day’s cycling of the sort we enjoy. We were able to navigate our way towards Orange via very small roads through villages. Lunch was bought in St Pierre Trois Chateaux,
yet another charming medieval town encircled by city walls. We didn’t see any chateaux but there was a fine abbey which we weren’t allowed into as a service was going on. They must have recognised my ‘Ulster Prod ‘roots. Actually the hotelier also said this was a big protestant area in the old days after the Popes moved from Avignon. Of course we should have realized this is where William or Orange must have come from.
After Trois chateaux we had a choice of the Route Nationale to Orange (not advised for bikes) or crossing over into the next valley and following a little ‘white’ road to Orange. Despite the hill we would have to climb over – Le Mont du d’Uchaux , we decided on the latter option as it seemed by far the most interesting and enjoyable although half way up when the road began to zig zag through the pines the thought of a straight flat belt down the motorway dodging the cars did seem quite attractive!
Anyway we sailed up the hill (puffing and wheezing a bit) through the pines and the oaks it was a beautiful experience and then sailed down the other side only stopping for a picnic lunch outside the gates of rather nice looking chateau hotel in Hauteville. A stork flew over which was a treat and we are finally in real Provence with villas, and a strong scent of pines, red squirrels and some heat in the air.
On arrival in Orange, we paused at the L’Arc de Triomphe which had been built in between 30 B.C and 20 A.D. and is still looking pretty impressive.
Our Hotel de Glaciers is right in the centre of the old town and we had a quick look at the theatre walls before a good supper in a local bistro. Our host in the hotel was keen that we should try the local wine from Mont d’uchaux so we thought we ought, we had after all cycled past it and anyway he was most persuasive!
Roche de Glun to La Voulte sur Rhone
This morning our world has changed from how little can we wear - to - have we brought enough warm clothes. Suddenly as monsieur said at breakfast ‘Hiver sont arrivé’ and he wasn’t joking, it is perishing. Looking on the bright side though, the sun cream was about to run out so we won’t be needing that anymore and the incredibly strong wind was blowing from behind us, so would speed us on our way.
We crossed the Isere river shortly after taking a quick look at Roche de Glun, nothing very interesting there, and there was a marked contrast in the colours of the waters where the 2 rivers met. The wind was whistling from the North East off the Alps so no doubt they are getting the first snow up there. Skiing is advertised as only being 1 hour away which is a curious thought.
In this photo to the right is the Isere river and the left the Rhone, if we had a motorized canoe we could be in Val d’Isere in no time.
We headed into Valance which seemed nice enough but the tourist office were so keen to be off for their lunch hour, they had locked the door between me going in and Alec finishing locking the bikes. They couldn’t wait to get rid of me and just told me that there was no longer a velo route and that the path - it had ‘terminee’d.
We had a hot cup of coffee to cheer and warm ourselves up but didn’t stay in the city for long. As it happened we found an excellent route marked ‘le Drome a velo’ which took us a long way, along the edge of the River and on some minor roads.
Occasionally it was necessary to cross the river and the bridges were quite a challenge as there was a very strong cross wind. We also came across the first marina that we’d seen, full of Sunseekers presumably up from the Med for the winter.
Abandoned nearby was the remains of an old steamboat which apparently had caught fire and sunk in 1837 but despite the evidence in front of us we were a bit sceptical!!
Anyway, after many miles of more river bank etc we were cold and tired enough to try to find a hotel in the town of La Voulte sur Rhone- back on the Ardeche west bank now. This town had definitely seen better days with only 1 hotel remaining open and I should think it is not going to last many more years either. The lady who owned it commandeered us on the side of the road, bossed us about a lot in a cheerful manner and before we knew it, had our bikes locked away and our money taken for the night. It was in fact perfectly comfortable and warm, but I don’t think she is much bothered by what standard of food is produced. We looked at Tripadvisor and it was full of people telling one DO NOT stay here. We decided to play safe and eat out, so looked around the town on foot.
You could wind your way up tiny alleys to the top of the hill where there was an enormous old chateau in ruins above the river with the wind whistling through the broken panes. They are beginning to do it up in small patches but it will take a long time.
We found a tiny bistro at the furthest end of town which served the local speciality of Crique, a new one on us.
This is my crique!!
It is pretty similar to Rosti (Swiss grated potatoes) fried and served with any amount of variations. Alec went the full Swiss bit and had raclette and ham, I had chicken in wine sauce;Both very good, warm and filling. We arrived at the bistro at about 7.15 when Granny and granddaughter (aged about 4) were in charge, the place was fully laid up but we were the only people there, would it be like this all evening? Shortly afterwards another couple came in and then another and soon Granny and granddaughter looked as if they were about to crack under the pressure when suddenly in comes grandson plus cousins and friends (aged about 10) from football practice plus Mum and Dad who within seconds had their pinnies on and were swooping around the room taking orders and chatting to all of the guests. It was a real French family bistro (Le Petit Creux). Thank heavens we went there and didn’t accept madam’s offer of dinner on our own at the miserable hotel.
Saturday 8th October.
La Voulte s/R to Pierrelatte
In the morning we watched enough of France v England to know the French were going to run circles around us so ate our overpriced breakfast and departed. Madame said it was madness to contemplate crossing the river and trying to ride down the east bank as it was all industrialized and motorways – too dangerous. So we settled for the Regional road (as opposed to National) and headed off. With the tailwind we found ourselves easily ploughing UP hills at 8 – 10 mph and going down a scary 26 was achieved before we applied the brakes for fear of a potential fatal accident! You couldn’t really describe the west bank as being particularly rural either as for about 10 miles they were demolishing the hill and converting whatever they were mining into cement. Ingeniously however they had transformed a huge disused and crumbling Abbey built along the roadside and river into their cement factory which seems like an excellent way to breathe new life into an old monastery and town walls.
There are two Logis in Andeol; one is a foodie’s paradise and way, way too expensive for us travellers and the other is in the town centre and is perfect. But not today, they were closed for a private party. Vivi persisted and eventually Le Monsieur remembered that 4k’s away across the river was the town of Pierrelatte which had a hotel in the centre next to the church. It took us a while to find our way out of Bourg but eventually an elderly lady walked with us for a couple of hundred yards to make sure we were going the right way and sure enough we were crossing the Rhone (again) and heading into Pierrelatte into the head wind which was very hard work. We found the hotel and were greeted by a blast of warm air as we entered our only thought being ‘oh please God put us out of our misery and let us stay here) we had after all by now been pedalling for 6 hours and done 42.5 miles and were quite saddle sore and weary!
Monsieur was a great guy, mucked us about in a friendly way for a bit said he couldn’t do a bath only a shower and then came up trumps with bath, soda for whisky in fact everything we needed, and to think they had just beaten us at rugby- they were too polite to even mention it!
There were 7 restaurants where we could have supper, as it was so cold we opted from almost the nearest. A traditional pizzeria which didn’t only do pizzas but all kinds of viande as well plus lashings of vin de la region – life suddenly was looking a whole lot better.
Sunday 9th October.
Pierrelatte to Orange
We slept like logs last night and never even heard the church clock strike until 7. Church clocks and railway lines have been beside our hotels all along the way. It is lovely to hear the bells ringing and most of the churches have 2 clocks on them, which seem to be set 3 minutes apart so there is no excuse to be late for anything! The trains fortunately don’t run much at night either.
I asked our hotelier’s wife the history of the town and region as Pierrelatte seems to be rather stuck in the middle of nowhere with a large nuclear station nearby, but also a rather charming old town centre. She said that there used to be a giant in the region who had a pebble stuck in his backside, which irritated him a lot. So he went to Mount Ventoux (that of Tour de France fame, and which takes up a lot of the horizon) sat and wriggled upon it until he was able to expel the pebble -And that is where the town is now! Well -not quite the answer I was expecting but a lot more entertaining!
We then had the best day’s cycling of the sort we enjoy. We were able to navigate our way towards Orange via very small roads through villages. Lunch was bought in St Pierre Trois Chateaux,
yet another charming medieval town encircled by city walls. We didn’t see any chateaux but there was a fine abbey which we weren’t allowed into as a service was going on. They must have recognised my ‘Ulster Prod ‘roots. Actually the hotelier also said this was a big protestant area in the old days after the Popes moved from Avignon. Of course we should have realized this is where William or Orange must have come from.
After Trois chateaux we had a choice of the Route Nationale to Orange (not advised for bikes) or crossing over into the next valley and following a little ‘white’ road to Orange. Despite the hill we would have to climb over – Le Mont du d’Uchaux , we decided on the latter option as it seemed by far the most interesting and enjoyable although half way up when the road began to zig zag through the pines the thought of a straight flat belt down the motorway dodging the cars did seem quite attractive!
Anyway we sailed up the hill (puffing and wheezing a bit) through the pines and the oaks it was a beautiful experience and then sailed down the other side only stopping for a picnic lunch outside the gates of rather nice looking chateau hotel in Hauteville. A stork flew over which was a treat and we are finally in real Provence with villas, and a strong scent of pines, red squirrels and some heat in the air.
On arrival in Orange, we paused at the L’Arc de Triomphe which had been built in between 30 B.C and 20 A.D. and is still looking pretty impressive.
Our Hotel de Glaciers is right in the centre of the old town and we had a quick look at the theatre walls before a good supper in a local bistro. Our host in the hotel was keen that we should try the local wine from Mont d’uchaux so we thought we ought, we had after all cycled past it and anyway he was most persuasive!
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