Winston Churchill once said, "No hour of life is lost that is spent in the saddle", so as Richard and I sat astride our bikes, waiting to board the ferry from Portsmouth to Le Havre with 4 days of glorious cycling ahead, we looked forward to gaining a few hours of life.

Having risen early, in an attempt to avoid the worst of the traffic around the busy port area of Le Havre, our first checkpoint was the Pont De Normandie which would allow us to cross the river Seine. This cable stayed bridge, at over 2kms long, is a Motorway toll bridge which has a narrow footpath and narrow cycle lanes which allows pedestrians and cyclists to cross free of charge. Most of the advice from the cycling websites suggests avoid cycling across at all costs! We did investigate a bus service which takes bikes from Le Havre to Caen but found no evidence or sign of such, and as the weather was fine we decided to risk it and cycle. We rode on the designated footpath (not a pedestrian in sight!) which separated us from the traffic by a good metre or so together with a 5cm high kerb. Judging by the look on Richard's face when we got to the other side of the bridge, he'd clearly had a near death experience! He claims he could hear the metal stays creaking as the high sided lorries thundered passed at 100km per hour and at the highest point he was convinced that he was going crash and fall over the barriers to the murky Seine 200m below! I didn't want to sound too smug but 2 years earlier I had made the crossing in the opposite direction in the cycle lane, in a torrential downpour, during the rush hour.... just saying!

 

Our reward for our death defying dash across the bridge was a relaxing coffee and breakfast in the beautiful town of Honfleur. We were now in the Calvados area of Normandy so looking forward to sampling their apple products!

Our route after heading inland for a few kilometres took us back out to the coast to Deauville, a prestigious resort with a race course and a Casino and a playground for the rich. We stopped to buy some things for lunch and headed for Houlgate where we consumed our Vache Qui Rit, baguette and jambon avec tomates in the warm sunshine. Passing through Villers sur Mer we spotted a dinosaur which was too good an opportunity to miss for a photograph.

 

 We had been following EV4, The Velomaritime which runs from Calais to Roscoff via the Cherbourg peninsular but by the time we got to the west of Cabourg, we headed down the V43, the Velo Francette towards Caen. The days cycling had been a mixture of small roads and designated cycle paths or Voie Vertes and we'd had 2 climbs of any significance. Needless to say after the second one we had to seek fluid replacement therapy. The final 16kms took us on the footpath which runs down either side of the Orne estuary. We crossed the River Orne at the famous Pegasus Bridge which had been a strategic point during the Normandy landings, being captured and held by a British glider borne force.

 

 We rolled into Caen and found our centrally based Ibis Hotel together with the remnants of the Tour De France which had been through 2 days prior to our arrival. We embraced the atmosphere of this wonderful city in the warmth of the evening sunshine before retiring for a good night's sleep.

 CAEN - FLERS 87KMS SATURDAY 12TH JULY

It was to be a game of two contrasting halves, to use a football analogy - the first part of the day was generally flat along the Voie Verte following the valley of the River Orne and La Velo Francette, one of France's many long distance cycle routes. La Velo Francette runs from Ouistreham, on the Channel coast to La Rochelle on the Atlantic coast and is over 600kms long. The second half of the day would provide a stern test for Richard's stamina as it was largely up hill and it was hot!

 

 A little more climbing with a few decent descents and we were soon on the outskirts of Flers where we stocked up with lunch things for the following day in anticipation that everywhere would be shut on Sunday. As it turned out we needn't have bothered but better to be safe than hungry. The Best Western La Gare was ideal for a night's stay - comfortable ground floor room, secure garage to park the bikes and bars and restaurants within a short walking distance, and a chance to wash my smalls and hang them out to dry! So it was beers in La Tavern and an expensive dinner in La Parenthes of monkfish tails before the day's 900mts of climbing got the better of us and sent us to bed.

 DUCEY 87FLERSKMS SUNDAY 13TH JULY

What a difference a day makes! Virtually all of the day's ride would be on a designated, traffic free voie verte and also very gently down hill. Once out of Flers we picked up the V43 cycle route that runs from Paris to Mont St Michel. We coasted past fields of sunflowers, sweetcorn and grazing cows - through idyllic rural France.

At the small village of Bion we stopped for coffee where we encountered some interesting characters. First, and definitely the most vociferous, was a group of young lads who were seemingly finishing off their night out - pints of lager on the table, extremely animated and loud, particularly when they were joined by another group on bikes, they were clearly enjoying their Sunday and looking forward to Bastille Day. Whilst we were drinking our coffee we were engaged in conversation with a British man who lived locally and worked in Mt St Michel. We didn't catch his name so we named him Benoir - he was extremely helpful in directing us to a place for lunch and suggesting a suitable route the following day. Our third encounter, as we were leaving the cafe, was with another Brit living locally who was cycling and told us he was on a training run for the Turin to Nice race. Sounded very hilly to me.

Shortly after leaving Bion we came across a French couple walking on the path. The woman was walking a horse which was laden with saddle bags and her male companion was towing a trailer behind him attached to his belt. We speculated as to their destination and wondered if some French hotels allow horses to be kept overnight? Probably not in the rooms , we concluded.

Benoir's advice and directions to lunch by the lake behind the church in St Hillaire Harcourt proved to be spot on. We found a vacant bench in the shade and tucked into our daily diet of pain, fromage, tomates et du vin - until Richard knocked over my glass - a waste of a good Cab Sav! Being a Sunday, the park was busy with family groups lunching al fresco and some of their lunches looked like banquets compared to our meagre offerings.

Retracing our track back to the cycle path we started the gentle descent into Ducey and the Great Western Hotel Le Moulin. We were early so the room wasn't ready so we were forced to sit in reception and talk to the english receptionist who very kindly served us beer until we could access our room. We had locked our bikes together in a secure outdoor courtyard and had covered them with some old cardboard boxes which was just as well as shortly after our arrival, the heavens opened and drenched everything. Our concern then turned to where to eat, on a Sunday, the day before a Bank holiday. One place in the small town was open, a Pizza restaurant that had awful reviews and where the receptionist had advised us to avoid. Tales of families being turned away because they hadn't booked, the rudeness of the service staff and the lack of choice on the menu didn't daunt us as we strode manfully through the rain towards our destination. Fortunately, we had had the temerity to book a table and so were pleasantly surprised by the warmth of welcome. The food was good, the service great and the wine crisp and chilled so no complaints from us.... although we did witness a few people who were turned away despite there being vacant tables - obviously not booked.

DUCEY - ST MALO 75 KMS MONDAY 14TH JULY -BASTILLE DAY

The rain had blown through overnight but had left the cycle path out of Ducey treacherously slippery so it was with a little bit of luck and a huge amount of skill that I didn't end up in a ditch as my rear wheel went from under me as I negotiated a staggered gate - Richard's comment ? "I'd have loved to see you in a heap." He was getting his own back for letting him go first across the Pont de Normandie.

The cycle path hugged the coast line and soon opened up views over Bay of Mt St Michel which appeared as a tiny pimple in the distance. Benoir had advised us to take the detour out to the island on the boardwalk so that's what we intended to do.

 

 

 Once again concern about food raised it's ugly head - we had managed to grab some breakfast before we left the hotel but still had no bread for lunch. As we reached the throngs heading to Mt St Michel we enquired as to whether there was a boulangerie open. We were assured that there was one open in a village called Beauvoir which we would cycle through after we had made the detour out to the Mont. We weaved our way through hoards of pilgrims making their way to the abbey on the tidal island, grabbed the photograph and headed to grab a baguette!

The boulangerie in Beauvoir must have been the only one open in the entire country judging by the queues outside, after all it was a Bank Holiday and a Monday. Richard dutifully joined the throng waiting to snaffle a pain chocolat or two whilst I guarded the bikes. The wait was worth it - a baguette, 2 chocolate eclairs and 2 cups of coffee.  The sugar rush pushed us fast and furiously onwards along EV 4 towards St Malo hugging the coastline and the oyster and muscle beds that are so prolific in this area. We lunched as the clouds gathered ominously - rain was definitely on its way and I hadn't packed any wet weather gear but my smug cycling mate had!

 The final 10 kms into St Malo was unpleasant.... wet, cold and most of it on a busy main road. Respite was sought in Le Clerc's supermarket on the outskirts of the town. Supplies were purchased and normal service was resumed weather wise as we rolled into the old town to our Hotel. Who says France shuts on Mondays?

Bikes secured, roosted and watered, we headed out into the carnival atmosphere in the bars close to the hotel. Eventually we settled on" Le Comptoir du V", a lively bar tucked away in a side street with outdoor seating. We were royally entertained by 2 guys dressed as women, singing their hearts out and parading up and down the street, all done with typical Gallic flair.

And so our trip ended, a meal, fireworks and a lot of great cycling. Our journey home to Blighty in the Club Lounge was relaxing and reflective.... where next with our new bikes, was the question we debated once Richard had woken up.