Velofrancette 2026 - Ouistreham to Pont d'Ouilly

 

Stats

Today's Route  

Travelogue 

After an excellent (i.e. large) breakfast at the hotel, we set off on our bikes at about 8:30, following the well sign-posted route for La Velofrancette in the direction of Caen.

The route is entirely on a dedicated cycle lane for about the first 50 km. It seems to follow an old railway line, through towns like Caen and then across farmland. Typically it's well shaded by trees, the cycling surface is excellent and the slightly uphill gradient, gentle. 

The river L’Orne was always to one side or the other and we crossed several bridges, some affording lovely views.

There were quite a few other cyclists but not so many that it felt busy. Sometimes they were clearly bikepackers like is, sometimes locals out for a bike ride or simply travelling somewhere (like school) by bike. 

After about 50 km though, we left the old railway and cycled on quiet but quite hilly roads. It was a slight shock to the legs but they did fine.

We stopped at Pont d'Ouilly and had lunch in a boulangerie. There was a supermarket next door but it was closed so we sat at a picnic bench by the river to pass the time. Canoeists paddled by and had fun zipping down a ramp from one side of a weir to the other. I (M1) saw a canoe with two people whizz down and something small but wearing a life jacket, fall out into the water! A child?! Au secours!!

But no, it wasn't a child. It was a dog and it may have jumped overboard rather than fallen. It seemed fine, doggy paddling in its floatation jacket and was unceremoniously lifted from the water back into the canoe to continue its journey.

After buying groceries we cycled another 4 km to our campsite, put the tent up and got comfortable in our awesome Helinox chairs.

A good first day on la Velofrancette

Photos

La Velofrancette 2026 - Banstead to Ouistreham

 

Stats

Today's Route

Travelogue 

We're off on a short and (compared to the ill-fated Pamir Highway trip), civilised trip with our bikes to France. It will just be nice to get away and do some cycling in one of our all time favourite countries.

The route we'll be cycling is called La Velofrancette. It's about 630 km long and runs from Ouistreham near Caen, an English Channel port, to La Rochelle on the Atlantic coast of France. We'd planned to cycle this route in 2020, had all our accommodation booked and then the Covid pandemic struck and that was that. 

This morning we cycled from home to a train station, Couldson South, a mere 30 minutes away. Our ferry to France leaves from Portsmouth this afternoon. We've cycled the 70 miles there before but to be honest, it's not the nicest bike ride so we decided to take the train today instead.

Getting to the platform with our bikes and bags was easier than expected. Both lifts were working! What are the odds? 

We only travelled two stops on the first train and got off at Redhill, expecting to catch a train from there direct to Portsmouth Harbour railway station. But, disaster! All Portsmouth trains had been cancelled!

We jumped on our scheduled train, knowing it was only going as far as Horsham and intending to replan when we got there, all the time reviewing the somewhat fluid information that was available.

In fact trains were being cancelled all over the network, seemingly for safety reasons. 

We spoke to a member of staff at Horsham and he suggested the following plan:

1. Travel north, back the way we'd come to Three Bridges 

2. Take another train south to Brighton 

3. Finally, travel west by train along the coast to Portsmouth 

Ok. A plan. But within minutes this plan too seemed to fall apart. Information about disruption to train services was changing all the time but we read that trains from Brighton were going no further than Littlehampton. And it's a 3 hour, 20 minute bike ride from Littlehampton to Portsmouth.

While all this was happening, our awesome family trying to help us by suggesting alternative options and even offering to drive a considerable distance to meet us somewhere, somehow squeeze us and the bikes into a car and then drive us to Portsmouth. Thanks especially to R1 and R2!

We decided to make for Brighton and consider our options when we got there. The train was packed because of a football match being played in Brighton. We feared we'd struggle to get the bikes on but we managed to, standing all the way, surrounded by people heading to see the game. 

En route, M2 discovered that a train to Portsmouth had survived the mass cancellations after all! There was hope. At Brighton we changed platforms and the train was there!

But…it had no driver. They were delayed on another train elsewhere. We boarded anyway and waited. 30 minutes after the scheduled departure time, the train had a driver and we set off.

With the time it would take us to cycle to the international port from Portsmouth Harbour train station, we estimated we had only 20 minutes spare before we'd miss our ferry. It would be tight. M2 pointed out that another station, Portsmouth and Southsea might actually be closer to the port than the Portsmouth Harbour station. And she was right! Our navigation app, CoMaps estimated it would take 8 minutes less time to cycle from this railway station to the port. 

But as we approached Portsmouth an announcement was made. The train would terminate at Fratton on the outskirts of Portsmouth and not go to either of the two Portsmouth stations after all. Arrrrggghhhhh. You couldn't make this up.

At Fratton we quickly got the bikes off the train, crossed platforms using two elevators and exited the station. We had about 40 minutes before check-in closed at the port. We could get there in time as long as there were no other problems.

We jumped on and started pedalling. And pedalling. And 15 minutes later, there it was! A sign for the international ferry port! Phew! We queued with the cars and eventually checked in with about 15 minutes to spare. Result!

On the ferry, with our bikes lashed to a rail below deck, we found a place to sit, nice and close to a source of coffee and cake. 

Kindles out, we settled in for the six hour voyage to Caen in France. 

The port of Caen is actually in a place called Ouistreham. Caen is about 15 km inland. We arrived at Ouistreham at 22:00, disembarked and then queued in the dark and a chilly, blustery wind for what seemed like forever to get through passport control.

For this, our first night, we're staying in a hotel that was pretty much immediately outside the port gates. 

Our journey along La Velofrancette starts tomorrow.

Photos

Pamir Highway Day 3

 

Stats

Today's Route 

Route So Far 

Travelogue 

After a night of little sleep but more than a little woofing and howling, I got up at first light. That's 4:30 to you.

I hiked down to the river and got some more water for drinking. The river water was clearer than yesterday but still not safe to drink in its natural state (especially with all those farm animals around) so it all got pushed through my water filter and into my cycling bottles. To kill any viruses that be lurking, I zapped both bottles with UV from my Steripen Ultralight. It's a great system. I'm writing this more than 24 hours later and having drunk litres of water from the river, I've felt no ill effects.

K1 was up a bit later and we chatted about the plan and options we might need to consider depending on how things panned out. Key was getting to the nearest village, Aligalabon, 8 km away. We might be able to find transport for us and our bikes there.

We set off at about 6 a.m. It took three and a half hours to travel the 8 km. I cycled and waited at corners for K1 who pushed his bike uphill in stages, resting whenever he needed to. I thought he seemed improved until he told me he'd vomited again. 

Eventually we started to descend and K1 was able to cycle. We entered the small village. It looked like a place where people don't have a great deal.

I was first to arrive as K1 was very sensibly being extra careful descending the rough road. As usual I was greeted by small children talking to me enthusiastically. One encouraged me (in Tajik) to move under a shady tree with him and his little friends rather than wait for K1 in the already hot sun. How kind is that?

There was little other sign of life at this end of the village.

K1 arrived and we cycled further into the village, hoping that something would present itself to us.

And it did. I saw a man standing outside what turned out to be the village store (you wouldn't have known). I prepared a question using Google Translate and approached him.

Another man got involved and there was a discussion between the men. We didn't know exactly what was happening at this stage but it seemed positive. People were trying to help us, that was clear.

We'd leant our bikes against the wall of a building. I went over and joined K1 to await the outcome of my attempt to find us transport.

A young man we'd not previously noticed came over to us some time later and also using Google Translate, told us a "taxi" had been ordered that would be big enough for the bikes and that it would arrive in one hour. We assumed he meant a truck rather than a car and were relieved to hear this. 

We waited and waited. It was already incredibly hot so we tried to stay in the shade. We were bugged and bitten by aggressive flies.

I went over to the man I'd first spoken to and used Google Translate to ask if there was a store in the village. He pointed at the open doorway into a dark and dingy room just behind him! 

The shop had a selection of drinks, cool enough thanks to the absence of windows, and a freezer full of ice creams! I bought drinks. K1 decided to try an ice cream. Apparently his stomach was happy with the choice as he bought another three while we waited for the taxi and ate them all. I didn't see these ice creams again, happily!

As always we found ourselves the centre of attention from loads of kids of various ages.

The kids on the donkeys made it very clear that they wanted a go on our bikes. We declined. But they were really, really persistent (in a cheeky way) and took a long time to tire of what was evidently a great game to them. "Go on mate, give us a go on your bike! Go on!".

There was a girl of about 13 who lived in one of the houses we were standing by, shaded by a tree. She kept coming by, grinning and saying something I couldn't understand. She also had a cheeky way about her! 

Eventually she went back into her garden which contained the tree that was giving us the shade we needed. She disappeared but shortly after, reappeared with a younger girl I assume was her sister. She spoke to me and I realised she was trying to say something in English though I couldn't understand the whole sentence. Eventually the girls' mum joined them. She was smiling too but had a very humble way about her. She tried the mystery sentence and I finally understood she was asking if I could spare some Somoni. I looked in my bag, found a 50 Somoni note (£4.10) and handed it to her through the fence. They all responded with what was clearly gratitude.

I turned away and went back to waiting for our taxi. But then I heard a voice from over the fence, trying to attract my attention. I turned around and the younger daughter handed me something wrapped in a black plastic bag. It was clearly a gift of something so I smiled and thanked her. She left and I turned around again.

I looked in the bag. It was a small piece of bread, torn off from a flat round loaf. I assume they'd given me what little they had to thank me. It was incredibly moving.

We continued to wait for the taxi long after the expected hour had elapsed, wondering briefly if maybe there'd been a misunderstanding but then telling ourselves that no, the taxi would come. We continued to have faith in these lovely people who were trying to help us and eventually our patience was rewarded.

The taxi arrived. And it was a normal estate car with a wooden roof rack. 

I took one pedal off The Mule so the bike could go on the roof without the pedal scratching it. The driver helped me lift the bike onto the roof and lashed it to the roof rack with cord. 

Meanwhile K1 removed his bike's handlebars and Donkey was loaded into the car with our bags.

K1 got into the back of the car alongside his bike. I got into the front with the driver.

We set off at speed along the road we'd cycled in on. It was quite alarming at first! But the driver was excellent and knew the road like the back of his hand.

His battered car had a few foibles. He stopped a couple of times to lift the bonnet. It was hard to start and he'd often bump start it by rolling downhill and then lifting the clutch. Once it was going though, it did the job.

Whizzing round bends in the style of a rally driver, there were times I thought I'd never see The Mule again but I needn't have worried. 

As we approached the end of the road around the reservoir we came to a water pipe we'd seen on the way up. The driver recommended we wash our faces to cool down. It was s great tip!

We eventually rejoined the tarmac road. The drive only took a few hours but it was very hot. On two occasions the driver had to stop and deal with police. He clearly explained that carrying a bike on his roof rack was not allowed. I assume he paid to be allowed to continue.

I booked a four star hotel in Dushanbe while we were driving. We deserved some creature comforts.

After resting a while we got organised. I listed things we needed to get done. K1, seeming better thanks to air-conditioning, booked flights home. Availability and price meant we couldn't get home until Sunday, six days away. That's perhaps as well because we're going to need to find or devise a way of boxing up our bikes and getting them and us to the airport, which could take time.

So that's it. Pamir Highway blogging probably ends here.