Bikepacking adventure: From Freiburg to the Atlantic in four days
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Text: Florian von Dobeneck
The most famous road in cycling lies at our feet. Cobblestones, not brutally rough like Paris-Roubaix, but rather gentle with fine joints that offer little resistance to the narrow tyres. Far behind: the Arc de Triomphe, under whose arch lies the tomb of the unknown soldier from the First World War. My mate Baschi and I tend to worship the cycling heroes who will be sprinting along the dead straight Avenue des Champs-Élysées for the final stage victory in the Tour de France in July. A few kilometres earlier, we were racing along a winding cycle path along the Canal de l'Ourcq at not quite as high a speed as the Tour de France pros, collecting impressions as we flew past: Cyclists in a park-like setting, suburban concrete, graffiti everywhere, hip cafés with well-dressed young people sitting in them. It's fun to swim along in the traffic. Now we turn onto the Champs-Élysées, circle the Arc de Triomphe several times and imagine it's the finale of the Tour de France. But it's not the end for us ...
Eight weeks earlier, in February, Baschi had told me during an excursion that his twelve-year-old son would be cycling with his class to Le Havre in the summer, the nearest coastal town to our home in Freiburg on the French Atlantic. This caused me some irritation. How? At that age? And what about us? Twelve-year-olds realise things that we men only dream of? No, it's our turn first! Questions from friends like: "Do you know which way the wind is blowing?" And: "Why in April?", we ignored with a mild smile. We had already made up our minds, booked the hotel for the last night and the return tickets. The last thing we were interested in was the headwind. And, as a North German proverb says, it builds character. So why doubt? We wanted to go to the Atlantic, despite the tent and sleeping bag, with as little luggage as possible. For this reason, and because it gives the photos a simple vintage look, photographer Baschi opted for his little Rollei 35, a mechanical and analogue 35 mm camera produced from 1966 onwards, with which you have to estimate the distance. No digital bells and whistles, no autofocus, no empty batteries.
Start - it's raining
Freiburg in April. We are due to set off at 8 o'clock in the morning. It's pouring. The rain lets up a little around ten. We set off. As we leave the city, I point out to Baschi that his rear tyre looks a bit flat. He shrugs his shoulders. We first head to Colmar and then into the Vosges, which we thought we knew reasonably well. But we didn't want to test every section of the route, so we trusted the komoot app when planning the route - better to expect the unexpected. And that's how it turns out: after Le Bonhomme, the route leads onto a forest path with a double-digit gradient. Once at the top, we take the legendary Route des Crêtes. Then it's downhill towards Saint-Dié-des-Vosges, and from then on we feel it: the headwind that will plague us until the end at the English Channel. It slows us down, increases the background noise, makes us dizzy and prevents any entertainment. We have to put up with it.
Roadside camping
Then there is a heavy downpour that soaks us completely. Suddenly the sky clears, only to annoy us again two hours later with rain. We continue to follow the Moselle. By now we both notice that Baschi's rear tyre really does look a bit flat. In fact, the tyre is leaking sealant. We pump up several times, as we only have two inner tubes and a few patches with us. After 200 kilometres, we just manage to stock up on dinner at a supermarket in Toul just before closing time. We take advantage of the remaining daylight and ride on. As dusk begins to fall, after 221 kilometres we finally discover a suitable meadow with knee-high grass behind Foug. We pitch our tent behind the bushes*, eat and try to sleep. It is damp: To dry off, our cycling gear dangles from every loop in the inner tent - and anyone who has to go out at night is encouraged to crawl into the wet grass in a push-up position.
*Editor's note: Wild camping is predominantly permitted in France. not permitted. Make sure you find out about the local rules beforehand. And if you are wild camping, no matter where, leave your campsite as clean (or cleaner) as you found it.
We are already awake at 6.30 am, but don't really want to crawl outside into the damp. Eventually we pack up the wet tent and set off. We had expected sunshine, but it remained cloudy all day. After 50 kilometres, suddenly all the milk comes out of Baschi's rear wheel. Now one of the two inner tubes goes under the coat. After five kilometres, Baschi has another puncture - now even the new tube has a hole. Our last inner tube goes in. It's the weekend and there are no shops here anyway, let alone bike shops. We don't voice such thoughts, instead we keep on cranking in silence, for hours, without another puncture.
The route is rather monotonous. Apart from countless anglers along the Marne Canal, there is little to see until we reach Champagne and the route becomes more hilly. In Épernay, we stock up on dinner at a supermarket and after 216 kilometres we find a good place to pitch our tent in Jaulgonne, a small town on the river. It's cold and we crawl into our sleeping bags. The day was tough, but we're halfway to the Atlantic. We are satisfied and confident.
Tour de France feelings in Paris
The next morning, a Sunday, we set off before eight o'clock. It was only three degrees at night, but now it's six. Our cycling gear is not enough to keep us warm, we are grateful for every little climb that warms up the body. Bistros and cafés in the villages are still closed, so we take refuge in a McDonald's in the small town of Château-Thierry to warm up with a coffee. Later, around lunchtime, when we are already in the centre of Paris, it gets a little warmer outside. Baschi has another flat tyre - and just as I'm about to make a silly remark, the air escapes from my front wheel with a hiss. We both have to repair it. Afterwards, we fly into the capital with bulging tyres, where you can see the social spatial organisation of France, the centralism that is also expressed in the transport infrastructure. The long straights leading into and out of the city consist partly of motorway-like Routes Nationales. For us, the aforementioned laps of the Champs-Élysées are followed by an obligatory photo at the Eiffel Tower; then we leave Paris again.
A little luxury on the bikepacking tour
With 185 kilometres in our legs, we decide to treat ourselves to something culinary today and go to a restaurant for a change. We're on the banks of the Seine, which is full of places to eat. But on this Sunday, the Parisians seem to have scoured the surrounding area like biblical locusts. All the restaurants we stop at have run out of food. We research a Moroccan restaurant in Freneuse. It's not on the route, but we have to eat something! We order beer and a tajine - finally something warm! It's almost nine and we don't know where we can pitch our tent. But we're in luck: the restaurant owner knows a campsite nearby. We cycle there and pitch the tent. Although the campsite only has two stars - the sanitary facilities, a container with the romance of a long-distance lorry, in which the light goes out automatically after a short time, deserves half a star - we enjoy the luxury of hot water. After three days, we shower for the first time.
The next morning we leave the banks of the Seine and realise that the headwind is picking up: The headwind is picking up. For us, this is an unmistakable sign that we are getting closer to the Atlantic. Unfortunately, rain makes slipstreaming unattractive. None of us wants to constantly swallow the spray of the vehicle in front, which is mixed with road dirt. It's gloomy and the weather offers endless opportunities to explore our own pessimism and melancholy. Then we both unexpectedly experience knee pain. I hide away mentally. Outside, I suspect the Horla - an invisible being with hypnotic powers that controls my will and sucks the life force out of me. Because the Horla from Guy de Maupassant's novel of the same name, which is set here in Normandy, suddenly pops into my head. De Maupassant describes the physical and mental deterioration of the narrator. The invisible becomes more and more of an obsession as the story progresses - kilometre by kilometre. De Maupassant has the narrator say: "I can no longer want, but someone wants for me and I obey." My legs, I would like to add. Cyclosophising, as the French professional cyclist Guillaume Martin describes it in his book "Socrates on the bike", is part of cycling on longer tours, and I let Baschi in on my thoughts. It takes his mind off the wind, the rain and the pain in his knees. I ask him what's going on with his son's school trip, with the cycle tour to Le Havre. Baschi says laconically that the class has changed its mind. They would rather cycle to Vienna, with a tailwind. Ah, I see!
Between pain and fairytale landscape
Before we, like the narrator in Maupassant's novella, can continue to analyse the destruction of our bodies and personalities with increasing horror, we descend into a fairytale landscape of pastures, ponds and chaumières, the typical half-timbered houses with thatched roofs. We soon reach Honfleur, which lies opposite Le Havre on the other side of the Seine estuary. As we roll into the small, picturesque coastal town after less than 160 kilometres, the clouds suddenly break. Blazing sun, the sky a deep steel blue - spectacular after four days in the grey. We check into the hotel and, after all the hardship, we tuck into a quick beer and a cheese platter. Later, we treat ourselves to oysters, vegan burgers, crème brulée, wine and cognac.
Sunset on the Atlantic
"Now we've driven 800 kilometres. Don't we still want to see the sea? That's where we actually wanted to go. It's right there, and it's still light," says Baschi. He's right. A few minutes later we are standing on the Atlantic. We look into the setting sun and towards the harbour of Le Havre on the other side of the Seine, which flows into the English Channel here.
The next day, we cross the two-kilometre-long Pont de Normandie to Le Havre. Before travelling back by train, we jump into the cold water at the city beach. Four exhausting days of braving the wind are behind us. But the cycle tour isn't quite over yet. One highlight is still missing - the pictures from the Rollei, which still need to be developed ...
Information about the stage trip - 800 kilometres to the Atlantic
Arrival & Departure
Railway: From Frankfurt/Main to Freiburg in just over two hours on the ICE, from Munich with one change in under five hours - the limited cycle parking spaces must be reserved.
Car: From Frankfurt/Main it is 270 kilometres via the A5 to Freiburg, from Munich via Karlsruhe (A8 and A5) 420 kilometres.
The following is somewhat complicated Return journey. It is not permitted to use long-distance transport between Germany and France with an assembled bike (see also TOUR 5/2023; information at www.tour-magazin.de "Train journeys"). Instead: From Le Havre, take the Thalys to Paris at Gare Saint-Lazare. From there, cycle to Gare de L'Est in a few minutes to take the TGV to Strasbourg. Although some TGVs go through to Freiburg, you unfortunately have to take a regional train to Offenburg in Strasbourg and then change trains again to get to Freiburg. Attention: When buying a ticket, you must check whether you can take your bike with you and there is a reservation fee. Most Intercité and night trains as well as some TGV trains have a bike compartment; transport costs ten euros on TGV trains, otherwise it is free of charge, but reservation is necessary. Tip: Dismantled bikes can be transported free of charge on all trains in France in a bag (maximum 90 x 120 cm). If you feel like improvising, you can make a bike bag using cling film from the supermarket, for example, you don't need a bike reservation and can travel across borders without changing trains. More information at www.france. fr/en/useful-tips/bicycle-transport-by-train
Equipment
To ensure that bikepacking on a road bike still feels like riding a road bike despite the tent and sleeping bag, every gram has to be saved. Our goal: five kilos of luggage per person including bags. We took a two-person tent weighing less than a kilo, very light down sleeping bags and sleeping mats, a pair of shorts, a long-sleeved shirt and a light down jacket for the evening. We didn't bring extra shoes, but light sandals were allowed. Indispensable are:
We stowed all of this in a saddle bag, a larger and smaller frame bag and a handlebar bag with a total packing volume of 15 litres.
Catering
In the French countryside, you often look in vain for food and drink. Sufficient bars and gels are a must. We needed at least two bars and one gel per day. Larger supermarkets that are also open on Sundays and public holidays are a safe bet when it comes to food and drink. These can be found in Toul, Épernay, Châlons-en-Champagne and Rouen. In addition to delicious cheeses, there are always pre-packaged dishes such as couscous, quinoa and salads, as well as fresh baked goods. Once you arrive in Normandy, you should definitely treat yourself to a galette (a round, flat cake, patty or pancake made from potatoes or cereals) and a cider.
The route to the Atlantic
Day 1: Freiburg im Breisgau to the west of Toul
221 Kilometres, 1.600 Altitude metres
After crossing the Rhine Valley, the Vosges Mountains stand in our way. After 73 kilometres, we cross the Col du Bonhomme (949 m), the highest point of the entire trip. This is why this day through varied low mountain ranges also counts the most metres in altitude at the end. Apart from Colmar, the route leads through Saint-Dié-des-Vosges, south past Nancy and through Toul (in the Département Meurthe-et-Moselle). Otherwise, you will only find smaller towns along the route, which ends on a very beautiful cycle path along the Moselle.
Day 2: West of Toul to east of Château-Thierry
216 Kilometres, 600 Altitude metres
At just under 220 kilometres and only 600 metres in altitude, this stage is the flattest. Most of the metres in altitude are gained in Champagne, where you cycle through the vineyards. The route is characterised by narrow and not always well asphalted cycle paths along the canals and rivers (Marne), especially in the first section. Apart from Châlons-en-Champagne, you also pass through Épernay; beyond that, the route only passes through small villages.
Day 3: East of Château-Thierry to Freneuse (Camping)
189 Kilometres, 1.140 Altitude metres
We approach Paris right at the start of the day. A very good cycle path along the Canal de l'Ourcq leads us into the huge metropolis. As Paris takes its time due to the traffic and the sights, the stage is somewhat shorter than the two sections on the previous days. After Paris, in the wooded hills and limestone cliffs of the Vexin français, there are also a few more metres in altitude.
Day 4: Freneuse to Le Havre
180 Kilometres, 1.300 Altitude metres
Stage four runs partly along the Seine. You could also follow it all the way to its mouth in the Atlantic, but that would be significantly more kilometres. If you take a shortcut between the numerous loops that the river makes, you will have to put up with more metres in altitude - 1300 in total. Tip: If you want to stay along the Seine, you can find a corresponding route on www.komoot.de - simply search for "along the Seine". Rouen is also worth a visit. The limestone cliffs along the banks of the Seine are particularly impressive, and cave churches have even been dug into them. Otherwise, you will discover marshes and beautiful villages along the river. The last section between Trouvillela-Haule and Honfleur is particularly beautiful. From the latter town, the Pont de Normandie, which is over two kilometres long, leads across the Seine to Le Havre. If there is a lot of traffic, especially lorries, you should take the pedestrian path on the bridge rather than the cycle path.
