One of IVA POCOCK's best holidays was cycling through France. Four years on, she and her husband decided to do it again – only this time they had a toddler in tow
APART FROM childhood seaside holidays in Connemara, one of my fondest holiday memories is of three weeks of summertime cycling and camping in Brittany. I came home fitter, slimmer and happier. My head was clear and my spirits lifted, and all despite downing litres of wine and gorging on the local cuisine.
Four years later my now husband and I wanted to attempt a repeat of our French bike trip. We were determined that the significant change in our lives – the arrival of our son, Cóilín, who was now 19 months old – wouldn’t prevent us climbing back on our saddles.
We knew it was possible thanks to the founder of our local bike shop, who continued cycle touring as a parent by bringing his kids along, too. How? By towing them in a trailer.
We plumped for a sturdy Canadian model. These remarkable two-wheeled contraptions are fully waterproof, with strong aluminium frames, good suspension, padded seats, secure harnesses and ample storage space. They attach simply and can be easily converted into a three-wheeled buggy (or, for the very adventurous, the wheels can be replaced with runners, for towing by an adult on skis).
With our son’s transportation solved we set about the logistics of getting to the south of France. Given the hassle of flying with large, awkward luggage, and because of our desire to keep our carbon footprint low, we decided to take the ferry and train via my sister in London.
This decision certainly wasn’t the easiest, or the cheapest, but we were up for the challenge, knowing that negotiating trains, ferries and cities with a toddler in tow would be an adventure.
We set off from home, in north Co Tipperary, on our bikes, caught a train to Dublin, got a lift to Dún Laoghaire (to avoid night-time cycling in Dublin with a baby in tow) and on a fresh sunny morning caught a ferry to Holyhead. As normal for cyclists, we were ushered past lines of cars and coaches to the front of the queue, and waved on board by a smiling attendant.
Six hours later we arrived at London Euston, from where we cycled (illegally) along the pavement the short distance to St Pancras International. We checked in our bikes as registered baggage on Eurostar and bundled our bags and son into my sister’s car.
After a weekend of pub grub and Cóilín being pushed at high speed around Battersea Park by his rollerblading uncle, we folded down the cycle trailer and condensed our already minimal gear to meet Eurostar’s luggage rules. We just about squeezed the trailer through its security scanner, then boarded the train for a smooth journey to Paris.
After collecting our bikes, unfolding the trailer and strapping Cóilín in we headed for a nearby restaurant. Fortified by steak frîtes and creme brulee, we set off on foot to find the dedicated cycle path that follows Canal St Martin southwards.
That first cycle through Paris with the baby was a blast. The path is separated from the road by a narrow pavement, providing a reassuring barrier against Parisian drivers. We dismounted just once to join the pedestrians, when negotiating the junction at Place de la Bastille; otherwise it was plain sailing across the Seine to Gare d’Austerlitz.
There we caught a regular train – not a TGV, as bikes must be folded down and bagged – towards Toulouse. What luxury compared to Ireland and Britain. A children’s play area! Acres of room for the bikes! We converted the trailer to buggy mode, put the brake on and the baby in to sleep and settled back in our spacious seats.
When we pulled into Souillac, a small town in Dordogne, we unloaded ourselves on to the platform and, when the train left, a few seconds later, breathed a sigh of relief when we found that we had everything with us. We checked into a nearby hotel and began to relax. We’d negotiated five trains, one ferry and two cities.
The next day we eased into the cycling leg of our holiday, stocking up on food and fuel for our camping stove, getting reaccustomed to Lycra cycling shorts – hideous but necessary – and cycling just two kilometres to the nearest campsite, on the banks of the River Dordogne.
It was great to pitch a tent in a French campsite again; the good facilities – hot showers, sinks and washing-up areas – provide just enough comfort. And the prices are astoundingly low: we paid between €7.60 and €11.60 per night.
Our choice of the Dordogne was a good one. As cyclists we were treated well, as we had been on our previous experience in France. By law drivers must give cyclists a wide berth, and people in general give plenty of encouragement. At one point we were buoyed for the climb ahead by a peloton that flew past us, thumbs raised in admiration. “Vous êtes courageux!” – you are brave! – was a common refrain.
The region has a good network of quiet roads, and as it was low season the traffic was generally light. We hadn’t set ourselves ambitious daily targets, but in the end we averaged a respectable 30km. I was grateful for a set of excellent Ortlieb panniers, on loan from a neighbour, which balanced well on the front and back of my old 21-speed bike. Cóilín was pulled by his dad, who also had back panniers; the trailer rolled remarkably smoothly, helped by its built-in suspension.
In 10 days we had a good variety of cycling. We slogged uphill from the River Dordogne, past fields of gaggling geese, and camped above the cliffside pilgrimage town of Rocamadour, which retains its magic despite a string of tourist boutiques. From there we had a wonderful downhill stretch through the dramatic Causses du Quercy regional park. That night we stayed in a riverside campsite where we fed the ducks and marvelled at a kingfisher darting through the morning mist.
A tough afternoon’s cycling along hilly back roads through oak and beech forests brought us to the fortified hilltop town of Domme, where we were rewarded with stunning views down on to the Dordogne.
Back by the river we were in La Vallée de Noix – the Valley of Walnuts – cycling through row upon row of cultivated trees, crunching over this year’s harvest. Local walnuts are used in everything from cakes to vin de noix, a fortified wine that was our daily aperitif.
We stayed a couple of nights beside La Roque-Gageac, a village built into the cliff overhanging the Dordogne’s north bank.
Cycling farther west along the river, we took a detour up to the dramatic fortified chateau at Castelnaud before heading to the Vézère valley. It’s home to the greatest concentration of prehistoric sites in Europe, and although we visited only one of them, Grotte de Font-de-Gaume, we were stunned by the beauty of 14,000-year-old cave drawings of bison and reindeer.
From there we headed east again, with a wonderful peaceful cycle up the gently-rising wooded valley of the River Beune. At our final campsite we were delighted to spot another children’s trailer and to hear that its passengers, two young boys, loved it as much as Cóilín loved his.
When not sleeping in his trailer, Cóilín sang happy gibberish and joined in our frequent chant of “Allez, allez, allez!” He loved our breaks for roadside blackberries and windfall apples, and the picnics of local cheese and saucisson.
He also loved the daily routine of pitching and packing our tent, fetching water and washing up. Thankfully, he slept like a log in the tent; the only rider was that he needed us in there, too. The overall effect of climbing into our sleeping bags each night at about 9pm was that we caught up on months of lost sleep.
So, yes, I came home refreshed, fitter, very marginally slimmer and chuffed that we’d managed a great cycling trip with our toddler in tow.
As usual, the only downside of holidaying by bike in France is that you can’t load up with wine. We cleared space for just two bottles of vin de noix. Miraculously, they survived the journey home through Paris, London, Holyhead and Dublin. We’ve been drinking it ever since, dreaming of getting back on our saddles and heading south again.
What to bear in mind
Trailers
A number of Irish cycling shops stock bike trailers, but they vary greatly in quality. We wanted something robust, versatile, comfortable and light, so we plumped for a high-spec model made by Chariot. They are available through Cloughjordan Cycle Co-op, in Co Tipperary (0505-42871, www.clough jordancyclecoop.com).
Bicycles
A hybrid that combines racer-size wheels with the low gears of a mountain bike is fine for a cycling holiday. A touring bike is best, but it will cost you more. Go for a minimum of 21 gears. You also need sturdy back, and possibly front, carriers for carrying your panniers. A lockable handlebar bag is good for valuables. I’d highly recommend Ortlieb panniers – pricey but strong, waterproof and easy to put on and take off.
Clothes
Cycling shorts are vital. For the rest of you, a polypropylene or wool base layer will keep you cool in the warmth and warm when it’s cool. A windproof, breathable jacket for downhill freewheeling will prevent wind chill.
Go there
Stena Line (www.stenaline.ie) sails from Dún Laoghaire and Dublin to Holyhead, and from Rosslare to Fishguard. Irish Ferries (www.irishferries.com) sails from Dublin to Holyhead and from Rosslare to Pembroke. Virgin Trains (www.virgintrains.co.uk) has services between Holyhead and London Euston (remember to book a place for your bikes). SNCF (www.sncf. co.uk) sells tickets from St Pancras International to all French stations. Aer Lingus (www.aerlingus.com) flies to Toulouse from Dublin; Bike Bus (mobile 00-33-6- 08940201, www.multitravel. co.uk/gb-bikes.htm) rents bikes and trailers in Dordogne.
Where to stay
Camping a la Plage. La Roque-Gageac, 00-33-6-85232216, www.camping-laplage.fr/ index.htm. Just west of La Roque-Gageac, one of France’s prettiest villages, this campsite is on the river. Good basic facilities, a small playground and a chance to see kingfishers from your tent.
Camping Le Temps de Vivre. Salignac-Eyvigues, 00-33-5-53289321, www.temps-de-vivre.com. We were relieved to find this welcoming campsite, as night was falling and we were running out of steam. The owners are friendly and welcoming, and the facilities are great, especially for young children. Set in a forest in the heart of rural Périgord.
Where to eat
L’Auberge des Platanes. La Roque-Gageac, 00-33-5-53295158, www.aubergedesplatanes.com. This restaurant – the first on the right-hand side as you arrive from Vitrac – serves traditional cuisine. We had Sunday lunch surrounded by locals on the shaded terrace. The confit de canard was so divine I made sure not to order it anywhere else for the rest of our holiday, for fear I’d be disappointed.
Where to shop
Souillac farmers’ market. On the left as you head out of town on the D804 towards Sarlat, this farmers’ market is a great place to buy fresh figs, raspberries and other fruit, cheese – especially that made from goat’s and sheep’s milk – paté and terrines made from local geese, as well as delicious walnuts.