Island hopping

June 5, 2025

... less glamorous than it sounds...

Part one of the day's riding: an out and back route.

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Part two. The intervening ferry cut off a few miles so I guess I can't now claim to have done the entire coast. Meh. There goes another medal.

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The alarm went off at 0600. Bleeeurghhh. There was however a reason for this. I'd hatched a plan to visit two of the islands off the west coast during my tour: the Île de Ré, and the Île d'Oléron. In my pre-departure checks of the route, I'd also got round to looking at the ferry sailings. Every hour or two, I'd imagined. Actually: nope. Once a day. At 0920.

So. If I was going to visit the Île de Ré, right next to La Rochelle, I was going to have to do it early enough to allow me to get back to La Rochelle port by 0850, which was apparently the latest check in time for the 0920 ferry. My plan was: early ride on an unladen Raven, back to hotel, pack properly, eat breakfast, and head out again, possibly with a coffee by the port to kick things off.

After that, I'd have a few hours to cover the remaining 35 miles, so I could spend it adjacent to some golden sands, maybe with a cold beer.

You know what they say about the best laid plans?

The sky was grey, and I had to put the lights on for the first time. It was about five miles to get out of the city onto the rather splendid looking bridge, and this leg of my journey was almost exclusively along separate cycle paths. There's a fundamental difference in the french approach when compared to my home country: here, they seem happy to actually build roads for bikes, rather than building a road for cars and deigning to put some blue paint into a corner of it, as if that would create a safer journey. The french approach has made parts of this trip so much better, and whereas I know that English cycle paths are usually less safe than a road, here, I divert onto them without hesitation.

The bridge to the Île de Ré. Two miles long, according to my satnav. It felt it.

As I approached the port, and the urban sprawl thinned, it became quickly apparent that not only was it grey, it was also windy. Bloody hell, it was really windy. Gusts of 45-50mph, according the the weather review I saw later. The mile upwards was the hardest slog we'd had all tour, and as I laboured directly into the headwind I thanked my lucky stars that I was separated from the motor traffic. That said, I'd have liked a side barrier which was more than four feet high. It was quite a long way down to that water. My swimming was probably not up to it, and Raven's definitely wouldn't be.

Apparently, the summer fee for this bridge crossing - €16 - makes it the most expensive stretch of road in France to use. It's free for cycles, so I guess you can't be too demanding. But still, long way down.

The first beach we encountered, coming down from the bridge onto another network of cycle paths. The island is a wealthy tourist hotspot now, with high property prices and plenty of well-to-do Parisian second home owners.

We covered little more than a small loop at the eastern side of the island: just enough to see the north and south coasts, and give a sense of the buildings (unremarkable). The island was very flat: a rabbit warren of residential streets clustered around the coast, but at least providing some shelter from the wind for a minute.

Adjacent to the bridge crossing. You can judge the wind strength from the way the flags are flying.

We were back at the hotel for about eight, with time to wash, pack, and head out again at half eight. Just a short day's work in prospect, now. Bliss!

Scores for the morning. Nothing to add on the flan count, despite the bakery opposite my hotel. I'd resisted its siren call and had muesli in my room instead.

We reached the port at about 0835 with time to spare. Oddly, there were no signs of life at the two ferry embarcation points, and neither was there life at the ticket office, although a notice confirmed the sailing. I went on a brief wander round the port area.

City ramparts, next to the port. It felt appropriately french to be riding Raven along polished cobbles.

By 0845, with no signs of ferry life still, I was getting a little concerned. I studied the notice again. Hang on... there was a third boarding point? On the other side of the dock? Beyond the main port area? We raced across and found about fifty people waiting in line, just as the heavens opened.

I checked with the staff member. Yes, he said, this was the place for my ferry. But not this boat. This was for the Île de Ré. Next one. And at 0910 he and his ferry disappeared.

Nothing else happened.

Fortunately, there was a lady cyclist who'd arrived too, and I checked what she was waiting for. Same ferry, to take her back home. She'd been told to arrive for nine.

At quarter past, the ferry chugged up. Eight of us got on, and we headed off just before half past. I was slightly regretting not having more of a lie in.

Exiting the port. Which is normally where one would catch a boat. Not this one, though. Secret location. If you know, you know. 😎

Raven's lodgings for the crossing, at the back. There were three other bikes with her. She was still my favourite.

The crossing took fifty minutes, and was fairly rough. Suddenly, such a large boat didn't seem like overkill at all! We pitched, yawed and rolled, and I abandoned any thoughts of heading onto the top deck for photos.

Exiting the port at La Rochelle... a veritable forest of masts. It was one of the biggest boat parking lots I think I'd ever seen.

View from the side window. On the other side, the sea was by turns disappearing, and 2/3 filling the view, as the boat lurched sideways in the waves.

Fort Boyard, built under Napoleon to cover a gap in naval defences. It was used, much later, for a fairly well known TV show. We passed right next to it.

We docked at Boyardville, on the north coast of the island. I spent a good half hour going round in small circles trying to get the satnav to work out where we were, although as some of this time was spent on buying a pain aux raisins and a lunchtime sandwich, I didn't mind too much. It was raining again, off and on, between light and torrential, but with the dubious benefits of a significant airdrying from the wind. The island was pretty unremarkable in these conditions, and there was more traffic than we'd previously encountered almost anywhere, thundering past on busy, wet roads. I didn't feel inclined to hunt for a beach side coffee shop, so I soldiered onwards towards the mainland.

Second bridge of the day. Shorter. But trickier. In the foreground is one of the many oyster beds found around these parts, with large areas taken up growing seafood of various types.

This time, the bridge was angled sideways to the wind. And there was no separated cycle path. So I gritted my teeth and tried to steer a straight course between the four foot barrier on one side, and the perilous traffic on the other. I think I had about a metre and a half to play with, and I've never been so glad to reach the end of a bridge in my life.

By chance, we picked up the Velodyssée route for a moment: it had originally inspired the tour. The figure in the background felt a little incongruous in the prevailing weather.

And then, we found another damned bridge, as the main carriageway south bridged another river. But I've bellyached about bridges enough now, so let's just say we got over it.

Lunch was at La Tremblade, a town about half way along the route. Raven peered down the high street as I inspected the square. And then I followed her gaze towards a cafe, where I imbibed caffeine and waited for a further downpour to pass. I nursed that coffee for a good twenty minutes.

Raven checking out the shopping opportunities. No bicycle stores to be seen, sadly.

I'm not going to say too much more about the route in to the hotel, other than that it would be gorgeous in better weather. We went through pine scented forests, with networks of gravel paths everywhere, and along coastal settlements with immaculate floristry and views out to the Atlantic waves. It's just that today, it was wet, and grey, and windy. Maybe I should do this stretch again another time.

Forest roads, with loads of scope for exploring on the gravel tracks that penetrated the woodland.

I love how beautifully laid out some of the public space in France is. This was simply the front of a small shopping centre car park.

Seafront, as we hit the final few miles of the day's tour. You get some idea of the conditions from the waves here, I think. There were a few brave surfers evident in more than one spot. I don't think it was what you'd call clean surf, though.

A few of my favourite things, as Julie Andrews might say. The view from a seafront bakery two miles out, which obviously I had to stop at. In the shot: seafront, a Fairlight cycle, and a piece of flan. 8.5/10, for those of you still interested in such matters.

The second set of numbers for the day. Flans: quatre. Tomorrow could be a day off, on that front. (Maybe).

Arriving at the hotel, I parked Raven securely indoors, and made my way up to the bed, where I promptly collapsed. Royan, where I'm staying, might be beautiful. You can probably google some images if you're interested. But I've settled for pizza at the hotel, and chilling out, because I think that's what my body is demanding right now. (And because there's a storm out there, still). I'm going to have a leisurely start tomorrow before the 75 mile trek to Bordeaux. Cross your fingers for me that it's sunny.

Today's ride: 52 miles (84 km)
Total: 328 miles (528 km)

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