The four main cycling routes in Bordeaux and the surrounding area are the path leading to Lacanau, the Roger Lapébie bike path, the Vélodyssée, and the Flow Vélo. The latter passes through the Dordogne, Charente, and Charente-Maritime — three départements I’m familiar with, particularly Charente-Maritime, as part of my family lives there.
Even though I cycle long distances to discover new and unfamiliar regions, sometimes my goal is to relax and exercise, not to explore the local heritage. It was with this in mind that I rid part of the Flow Vélo for three days at the end of December.
Discover the landscapes I passed through, the benefits I gained from this trip, and the difficulties I encountered.
The beauty of the nature in winter
Like almost always, it all starts with an early morning ride through Bordeaux. I am delighted to be cycling in the deserted city on my way to the train station on this first day of the Christmas holidays. The last few weeks have been tiring and I need some rest. However, my vacation schedule is not exactly relaxing, as I am traveling about 300 km before going to Paris and then Normandy, where I will spend the holidays with my family. These activities will allow me to chill.
I get off the train in Thiviers, half asleep after an hour’s journey. The small town in the Dordogne, which I passed through a few weeks ago on another bike trip, is bustling. I walk up a street that leads to the square where the market is held. As I walk around, I admire several typical regional products, including lots of duck and foie gras.
I stop in front of the stall of a joyful cheese maker and his son. With a strong Belgian accent, he chats with his customers about this and that. I buy cheese, which I can then eat during my breaks in the countryside.
After having a coffee and a crepe at a stand run by a very meticulous man, I set off. 75 km to cycle until Angoulême.
Several signs indicate the direction of the FlowVélo departure point. I reach it by following a gravel path surrounded by trees, which is only for pedestrians and cyclists.
Getting moving feels good, especially as my touring bike is very comfortable. Around me, I notice a light mist and hear from time to time birdsong. The woods seem asleep, the grass is damp and the leafless branches are still. Nature is truly beautiful in winter.
A few hundred meters from the village of Nontron, a gate blocks access to a bridge. A sign hanging on it informs me that passage is prohibited due to preparations for a fireworks display. When I try to push the gate open to enter, the men in charge of the installation hear me and shout, “Take the detour via the road!”
At the crossroads, I can go down to Nontron, but signs indicate that the road is blocked 100 meters ahead. Turning back and looking for an alternative route would lengthen the journey time. Let’s see what’s at the bottom of the road. I discover two gates placed across the roadway. All I have to do is pass between them. An elderly woman cleaning in front of her house tells me, “Be careful, there are police checks. They’re not here right now.”
I thank her and get off my bike to explore the area on foot. No one in sight. I lift my bike over the heavy, massive block across the road and pass.
The atmosphere in the village is gloomy and sad. I’d like to take a coffee break, but the only bar I see doesn’t appeal to me.
The meadows, fields, and forests surrounding me once recharge my batteries and calm me down. I can feel the cold in my feet though. I slide my toes against my soles, flexing them energetically. This move warms me up and I notice that I’m living the present moment. My thoughts disappear and I admire the green landscape.
I arrive in Marthon a few minutes before the bakery closes. The shop seems frozen in time in this small town. There is a coin tray on the counter that was probably already there 30 years ago. The own has something between a pizza and a sandwich that suits me.
I eat at a rest area on the outskirts of the village, at a table. Suddenly, a few drops of rain begin to fall. It’s not enough to make me leave. Once my meal is over, I lie down on a bench a little further away. I fall asleep quickly, but the cold in my feet and legs forces me to leave.
Earlier, I felt some pain in my right knee, as I did on my previous outing, but it’s gone away. My leg movements are more fluid and less difficult than this morning. This makes me happy.
At 4:15 p.m., a town overlooking the surrounding area comes into view. It’s Angoulême. I avoid the center to reach my accommodation for the night, a comfortable room in a modern house.
Following the Charente river
The first stage of the day takes me to Châteauneuf-sur-Charente. Then I follow the river, which flows quietly.
In Jarnac, on the banks of the Charente river, I admire the stone bridge and a few weeping willows by the river. Then I cycle through the narrow streets where a few locals are walking home from mass. Apart from them, there is hardly anyone else in sight. I make a detour to admire François Mitterrand’s birthplace (former French president). The inscription “Fabrique de vinaigre” (vinegar factory) on the facade is difficult to read.
The trail now winds through vineyards. Between the Charente River and a railroad track, I recognize the path connecting Jarnac to Cognac, which I took in the opposite direction a few years ago to visit Gaël, the craftman who founded Orbis Terrae.
The town that gave its name to the drink welcomes me, under an ever-gray sky, at lunchtime. Hey, an Indian restaurant. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten this cuisine, which suits me as I’m a vegetarian. After a refreshing meal, I set off again.
My lights, which work with a built-in dynamo, are not working. I stop and inspect the device, which I learned to understand in Greece when I had to remove a wheel to put the bike in the bus luggage compartment. Since then, I enjoy tinkering with the connection. The wires that should come out the other side of the plastic part are damaged and therefore not long enough. I manage to put them back in place after braiding them. The lights come on as I pedal, but a few meters further on, they go out again. I have no choice but to continue without headlights.
I see large puddles of water in the woods lining the path, and also on the path itself. I stop to put on my rain pants, which will protect my sneakers and leggings. White mud splatters my feet and calves, as well as my bike. It’s nice and invigorating to get closer to nature and face things that are sometimes uncomfortable, such as wind, rain, and uneven ground…
Suddenly, I stop in front of a flooded area. The trees are reflected in it. 50 m? 100 m long?
Okay, let’s adjust the rain pants so they cover my shoes and go slowly. The water splashes under my feet and the spray intensifies when I speed up. I am relieved to find solid ground again after this aquatic and funny crossing.
Further on, I see a deer jumping away as she hears me coming. The natural setting has a calming effect that I was looking for on this trip.
My legs have gotten used to the effort, my movements are smoother than yesterday, and my muscles are getting stronger. I need to pick up the pace because it will soon be dark. Unfortunately, the night falls shortly before Saintes. Google Maps will now guide me.
Suddenly, heavy rain begins to fall. My thick North Face coat, bought over 10 years ago, no longer seems waterproof as I feel the moisture on my forearms.
At 6:15 p.m., I arrive at the hotel located in a commercial area away from the center of Saintes. The woman at the front desk sees me, soaked and with my legs covered in white mud. Wait until you see my bike!
The very kind employee offers to clean my bike before realizing that the hose is too short to reach it. Anyway, I’ll get it dirty again tomorrow. I need to go to a gas station in Rochefort at the end of my trip, as the mud can damage it.
She suggests me to keep my bike in the room. It’s very small, but I manage to fit it in, taking care not to dirty the floor. There’s a strong smell of cigarette smoke. Plus, the shower is in a small prefabricated cubicle in the hallway.
A reward at the end of my trip
In the morning, I’m happy to leave the premises and get some exercise again. Canals fed by the Charente River run along both sides of the trail. There must be nutria here. Meadows, fields, and forests stretch out all around. I admire the birds, especially the wading birds. Is that a stork flying away over there?
Cyclists pass by as I eat my lunch by the side of the track, surrounded by nature. I keep moving while eating my sandwich so I don’t get cold. It’s so much nicer to eat in the great outdoors, in the invigorating cold, than in a restaurant. At least as long as it’s not raining…
In Tonay-Charente, I admire a beautiful bridge spanning the now very wide river. Then, port cranes appear at the river’s edge. It’s a grain terminal because, further on, a large building stands before me with long chutes designed to receive grain. Under the deserted hall, I walk along the rails designed to accommodate wagons.
Rochefort welcomes me in the sunshine. The architecture of the 18th-century buildings reminds me of Bordeaux. I stop to decide what to do next. Washing my bike at a gas station would damage it. Passersby whom I ask where to find a water hose advise me to try the marina. First, let’s head for Fouras, my destination.
The trail crosses beautiful marshes, which border a highway for cars. It’s a shame that their noise disturbs the moment.
Suddenly, a nutria appears. It jumps into a canal before I have time to take out my phone to photograph it. I also see large white birds, horses, and sheep. The wild beauty and presence of wildlife help me forget my tiredness.
After passing the sign for Fouras, I discover the sea. What a joy to lie down in the sand, lapped by tiny waves, under the sun! I also admire the proudly erected fishing huts and, in the distance, I can see the Aix Island and Fort Boyard (famous fort in the sea that hosts a tv show). I won’t take the boat across to Île d’Aix, the end point of the Flow Vélo route.
Back in Rochefort, I ask the harbor master’s office where I can find a tap to wash my bike. There’s one in the parking lot in front, with a very short hose next to it. How lucky am I!
With night already falling, I set to work. There is so much mud on the wheels, mudguards, frame, and chain that it takes me about 20 minutes. My shoes are soaked and my hands are cold, but I admire my bike, ready to board the train to Bordeaux. Back to city life.
Have you ever traveled the Flow Vélo? What did you think of it?
