“Voulez-vous le filet de bœuf ou l’agneau?” requested Léa, our well dressed cheffe de rang within the eating room of the Hôtel de France in Mende. Selecting between beef and lamb would find yourself being one of many few selections I’d must make all fortnight. It was late June, and I used to be sitting, dazed from exhaustion, within the loveliest of eating places with the very best of firm – my brothers Trevor and Chris – midway by way of a completely supported 1,600km (1,000-mile) epic from the Atlantic coast to the French Riviera.
Simon Fellows is clawing his approach out of middle-brother obscurity one function at a time
My brothers and I have been shut as youngsters, however our a long time of life selections had the unintended consequence of pulling us aside. Latterly, we’d seen each other solely at Christmas, when conversations have been as uninteresting because the climate forecasts they hardly ever strayed past. Now in our late 50s and early 60s, lastly free from the relentless obligations of younger households and careers, we’ve made the grown-up choice to reunite for a 13-day journey worthy of our youthful selves.
(Picture credit score: Simon Fellows)
For logistical ease, we selected a guided tour, Saddle Skedaddle’s ‘St Malo to Good Basic’, which carves a sweeping crescent from Brittany and Normandy within the northeast to Provence within the south. Nevertheless, as we brushed the Breton sand off our biking footwear, we had no concept that France was on the verge of struggling its second-worst heatwave on document. We have been about to trip into the 4 à ache – the bread oven.
Land of butter
St Malo is a troublesome metropolis to depart. Blessed with an infinite promenade of high-quality seafood eating places and a medieval outdated city, it was tempting to remain put. However journey known as, so with our stomachs heavy with croissants, and our heads gentle with pleasure, we have been off.
Main us have been our splendidly Gallic guides, Luc and Nicholas, who took turns driving with us or driving the assist van. Nothing was ever an excessive amount of hassle for Luc, robust as an ox and at all times armed with a joke. Nicholas, a slender, highly effective rider, was equally good-natured, and, as a result of he hailed from Good, this trip would ship him to his doorstep.
My youthful brother Chris is the strongest and lightest rider amongst us. Trevor, endlessly making an attempt to maintain his youthful siblings in examine, is definitely essentially the most aggressive, compensating for any age-related lack of health together with his admirable psychological power and sheer tenacity. Me? I simply attempt to sustain. The primary few days eased us gently into our coast-to-coast escapade. As we waved farewell to the intimate seashores of the Côte d’Émeraude, and bid adieu to a hazy Mont St-Michel, its silhouette partially shrouded inside a smooth sea mist, the flat, fertile Breton countryside opened up earlier than our wheels.
(Picture credit score: Xavier Veyron)
Northern France is a dairy stronghold, the place pasture and huge fields of wheat dominate the panorama, and butter defines the delicacies. We must put many kilometres beneath our tyres earlier than groves of gnarled olive timber would power a elementary change in flavour. Throughout these early, comparatively flat days, we fashioned a gentle paceline for the primary few hours. With little effort required, dialog – weighty points and immature banter in equal measure – flowed simply, interrupted solely by the clattering exhaust notice of the occasional tractor.
The three of us appeared ahead to our mid-morning espresso stops enormously. Invariably, Luc and Nicholas would information us to a picturesque village sq., with essentially the most French cafe possible, bang subsequent to a pâtisserie groaning with pastries. One in every of my favourites was the impossibly quaint village of La Guerche-de-Bretagne, with its glut of timber-framed medieval buildings. Soaked with caffeine and loaded with tartes aux fraises, chaussons aux pommes, and pains aux raisin (we’d persuade ourselves that this degree of carb-loading was a mandatory a part of our fuelling technique), we’d fragment, driving at our personal tempo for the subsequent 40km or so till lunch.
“WEIGHTY ISSUES AND IMMATURE BANTER FLOWED IN EQUAL MEASURE”
The picnic was the second spotlight of the day. Beneath the shade of candy chestnut timber, we’d feast on bread, native cheeses, pork rillettes, and quite a lot of salads. This prolonged break supplied Trevor and Chris an opportunity for some good-natured vocal sparring. A typical theme was their biking prowess from that morning’s trip, though this might prolong to any side of life the place considered one of them noticed a weak point within the different that could possibly be exploited. Remarkably, the truth that Chris might trip circles round him by no means diminished our huge brother’s enthusiasm for such swordplay. Bless him.
Ultimately, tiring of baiting Trevor, Chris would give impromptu historical past classes – his lack of ability to recall fundamental historic details, not to mention dates, made these classes sketchy at greatest.
(Picture credit score: Xavier Veyron)
“The Hundred Years’ Warfare, which ravaged this a part of northern France from about 1250 to 1450, er, hold on, that may’t be proper…” Trevor would take these mental retreats as his cue to highschool himself, and the remainder of us, in French grammar, helped alongside by Nicolas. It was a reduction to get again on the bike.
Inside three days, we’d crossed a broad, sleepy Loire and have been quick heading into the Dordogne. By now, it was obvious that there was one thing very unsuitable with Trevor’s bottom. He was performing a perpetual waltz within the saddle, a cheek-to-cheek glide on the primary two beats, punctuated by a short hover on the third. Saddle sores have been making their mark.
After an emergency cease at a pharmacy, which examined Trevor’s mime abilities as a lot as his newly honed French grammar, he reappeared cheerfully waving a big assortment of gels, salves, ointments and – inexplicably – a big tube of Durex lube. We’ll by no means know whether or not it was his poor performing potential or his shaky grasp of French anatomical phrases that was responsible.
simon Fellows France biking household brothers lifetime ardeche summer season warmth sizzling consuming south of france 2025 June
(Picture credit score: Xavier Veyron)
The Dordogne area ushered in delicate adjustments within the panorama and a major shift within the climate. As we navigated twisting roads by way of more and more steep wooded hillsides, the sky appeared much less expansive, and the horizon closed in. We began to note terracotta roof tiles for the primary time, changing the plain clay tiles – tuiles plates – favoured within the north. It was getting hotter. The mornings have been cool sufficient, however the afternoons grew oppressive and sticky.
Early begins grew to become an unwelcome however prudent resolution, with the three of us hitting the highway by 7:30am. I’d typically go away barely earlier, however inside 15km I’d hear whoops of “Salut!
“THE DORDOGNE USHERED IN SUBTLE LANDSCAPE CHANGES AND A BIG SHIFT IN THE WEATHER”
Allez, Allez, Allez!” breaking the nonetheless air as Trevor and Chris closed my lead earlier than passing me, the intense taillights of their Wahoo Trackr radar items dancing away into the space. For ourselves to go away early was value it, not solely to flee the warmth but additionally for the additional time it allowed us to discover the day’s vacation spot. Brantôme, an enthralling medieval city utterly encircled by the languid River Dronne, was a selected spotlight. The three of us loved a memorable afternoon at Restaurant Côté Rivière, spent sipping chilled glasses of Bergerac Sec.
simon Fellows France biking household brothers lifetime ardeche summer season warmth sizzling consuming south of france 2025 June
(Picture credit score: Xavier Veyron)
Land of Oil
Fittingly, the border between the land of butter and the land of oil is extra a messy smear than a pointy line. The division of the Lot lies between the 2; its conventional delicacies shuns dairy and olives in favour of wealthy globules of duck and goose fats. We had entered a no-man’s land – the Lot is sparsely populated – the place confit de canard, foie gras and cassoulet stew reign supreme.
The highway south into the hills from Souillac was greasy from in a single day showers that refused to stop, and we relished their damp, clingy coolness. Chris, a Lake District native, no stranger to hills or downpours, was in his factor, taunting me from above as we climbed steadily in the direction of the precarious clifftop village of Rocamadour. I might by no means catch him once we have been nippers; some issues by no means change, besides now it made me smile. Pedal stroke by pedal stroke, the earthy perfume of petrichor crammed my nostrils with each inhale. Life was good.
“WE POURED BIDON AFTER BIDON OVER OUR HEADS”
(Picture credit score: Xavier Veyron)
From a mist-shrouded but majestic Rocamadour, our journey turned a nook. We’d now be travelling as a lot east as we have been south. I kicked myself for not discovering the Cévennes d’Ardèche earlier. A bewitching southeastern nook of the Massif Central, it’s an attractive wilderness of oak forests, moorland, limestone plateaus and granite outcrops. Residence to roe deer, mouflons, beavers, griffons, otters and little or no site visitors, it’s a cyclists’ paradise.
Nevertheless heavenly the Cévennes d’Ardèche, the extraordinary warmth was now hellish. With my GPS pc recording temperatures nudging 40°C, we responded by pouring bidon after bidon of water over our heads, by no means lacking the chance to swim within the icy streams that lined the route.
(Picture credit score: Xavier Veyron)
Regardless of the warmth and a couple of,000m of ascent, the expertise of driving 150km from the Ardèche to the foot of Mont Ventoux in a day defies superlatives. Ridden within the early morning gentle, the Gorges de l’Ardèche – recognized domestically because the ‘European Grand Canyon’ – is completely breathtaking; the highway twists and turns, writhing like a serpent over the churning Ardèche River, the golden limestone cliffs towering above. It’s exactly the type of terrain my Look 785 Huez was made for.
In contrast, crossing the flat, uninteresting Rhône Valley was an unwelcome distraction, however our spirits lifted as we exited up the steep Gorges de la Nesque. This beneficiant second serving to of hairpins pounded the legs, however the views far throughout this rugged ravine greater than made up for the punishment. What a technique to arrive within the Vaucluse. That night in Sault, sleep enveloped me gently, like a soothing balm. With a demanding 110km day forward, Trevor and I set our alarms for 6am, by which period Chris deliberate to have already summited the gruelling Mont Ventoux, extending his day by an extra 52km.
Passing Pont-Saint-Esprit because the trip to the solar continues
(Picture credit score: Unknown)
The subsequent morning delivered provençal driving at its most interesting. The biking gods, or fairly our guides Luc and Nicholas, dealt us a good hand of ascents and descents, finally guiding us to the purple haze of the Plateau de Valensole, a outstanding 800sqkm plain of lavender fields. As we rode on, the soporific scent of lavender tickling our noses and the buzzing of 1,000,000 bees ringing in our ears, Chris, drained from his effort on Ventoux, bonked only a dozen kilometres from our lodge.
Trevor and I, proud to play our half as benevolent older brothers, managed to partially revive him with handfuls of under-ripe bananas and a litre of chilly milk from a neighborhood Intermarché. After some coaxing, he was regular sufficient to trip triumphantly, albeit slightly bloated, to the traditional hilltown of Moustiers-Sainte-Marie, our cease for the evening. One other day, one other dramatic canyon.
This a part of Provence delivers banger after banger, this time the Gorges du Verdon, famed for the Verdon River’s vivid turquoise waters. Roughly 700m of ascent over the primary 11km is rewarded by 1,500m of exhilarating descent over the subsequent 60km, punctuated solely by the occasional ramp. This proved to be the proper playground for Trevor and Chris, each competent descenders pushed to new limits by sibling rivalry.
(Picture credit score: Simon Fellows)
Arriving in Good was a bittersweet second. Hotter and extra congested than a cauldron of thick, simmering Bouillabaisse, town was a surprising assault on the senses, an abrupt full cease to our journey’s finish. The aquamarine Med might have obliged with a jewel-like sparkle, and, although the clink of our celebratory champagne glasses rang true, I pined for the instances I reconnected with my brothers within the quiet forested lanes of the Cévennes d’Ardèche.
“WE FORGED SOLIDARITY FROM STEELY DETERMINATION AND HOT TARMAC”
Fraternité reaffirmed
Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité. It’s unattainable to flee France’s nationwide motto, it’s carved into each village mairie, college and library. It’s even engraved into the euro cash that rattled throughout marble counter tops to pay for my mid-morning cafés noisette. Initially, a well-recognized three-word phrase that meant little to me personally, because the kilometres ticked by, it gained larger resonance.
Liberté happy my nostalgia for younger instances, when the bicycle gave the three of us unbridled freedom for the very first time. That sense of liberty was reignited in France. Biking might not look like an important car for Égalité, however so centered have been all of us on battling the climbs and the weather, any notion of superiority evaporated within the sizzling, dry air.
(Picture credit score: Simon Fellows)
I discovered the phrase Fraternité, from the Latin root frāter, which means ‘brother’, particularly apt. Infantile bickering should often trip roughshod over our relationship, however finally, all of us at all times need the very best for each other. Within the cool early Provencal mornings, our egos suitably refreshed, each ramp was a race. However, within the merciless warmth of the afternoon, we’d sort out the hills as a bunch, supporting each other with encouragement and the provide of a wheel to draft.
The identical holds in on a regular basis life. If I’m going by way of a troublesome time, I’ll flip to my brothers for assist. I could not at all times like what they must say, however I’m reassured that it’s coming from a very good place. The expertise of Fraternité – a hard-won solidarity cast from steely willpower and sizzling tarmac – was essentially the most enduring and useful present of our time collectively in France.
KEY INFORMATION
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HOW TO GET THERE
The closest worldwide airport to St Malo is Rennes. The 75-minute flight from London Gatwick with EasyJet prices about £50. Crusing in a single day from Portsmouth to St Malo is a stable, if gradual, choice. Ferries price from £222, and the journey time is 11 hours. The flight residence from Good, additionally with Easyjet, is about £75.
WHERE TO STAY
Charming resorts and chambres d’hôtes (B&Bs) are plentiful alongside your complete route. Anticipate to pay €110-170 for a snug room, together with breakfast.
ORGANISED TOURS
CW travelled with Saddle Skedaddle, whose 15-day tour (13 days of driving) is priced from £4,395, together with shared lodging, breakfast and picnic lunch, guides, assist car and native transfers.
Single-room dietary supplements apply, and flights, bike rent, and night meals are all additional.
WHAT TO RIDE
Simon rode a Look 785 Huez Professional Workforce Version, a climbing-biased endurance bike. Its 52/36t semi-compact chainset, matched to a climb-friendly 11/34t cassette, proved a flexible selection for this journey. Chris and Trevor employed Big Defy Superior endurance bikes from Saddle Skedaddle. All three brothers rode with Wahoo Elemnt Roam head items for navigation, and Wahoo Trackr Radar for elevated visibility and peace of thoughts.