From Marseille to Lyon, or how to make every possible beginner's mistake

It's lunchtime in early September. We're sitting on the terrace of a little restaurant in La Rouvière, Marseille. Stéphane has had an idea in the back of his mind: since we're soon going to be parents, he'd like to do one last crazy thing before the baby arrives — ride all the way up to the Ardennes. Cassandre is up for it, of course. All that's left is to buy all the gear and plan our route.

23 October 2021: Marseille -> Avignon

Drivers in the south of France aren't known for their patience with bikes. To be safe, we'd rather not ride across the Bouches-du-Rhône, so we take the train from Marseille. It's almost the part of the trip that stresses us most, so awful is Marseille's cycling infrastructure. To get up to the fabulous Saint-Charles station by bike, remember to go round the back to avoid the monumental staircase.

At 9:30 we're on the train to Arles, where we get off 45 minutes later. First observation: taking the train with bikes works very well. Second observation: the wind is blowing very hard. We hadn't thought this through, since we wanted to ride north whatever happened, but along the Rhône the mistral blows from north to south. We struggle on to Beaucaire across wind-swept fields, barely managing 12 km/h. We have lunch in a very nice restaurant called L'Épicerie, where we build up our strength before setting off again.

The afternoon is hardly more successful. The wind seems to take a perverse pleasure in stopping us from moving forward, and in the end it takes us 5 hours to cover 60 kilometres. In Avignon, after a well-earned shower, we go out to eat at L'Atelier de Bélinda, a fantastic little restaurant on the Place des Corps Saints. Over dinner we talk about how we feel, and the first conclusions emerge: we're carrying too much and, above all, we should have broken in our bikes before leaving. Our new steeds are really hurting our backsides; we're not used to the saddles. Tomorrow is another day and we try to rest well.

Mistake number 1: 1️⃣ Too heavy a load
We brought far too much stuff — Cassandre had even packed her Italian lessons! Every kilo counts on a bike trip, and we should have travelled as light as possible to spare our strength and our joints.

Sunday 24 October 2021: Avignon to Lapalud

We leave Avignon shortly before 10. It's Sunday and the streets are deserted, which is lucky, because the ViaRhôna takes us through a dreadful industrial estate around Le Pontet. It must be tricky to ride through on a weekday. Fortunately, after Sorgues we find the calm of the riverbanks again, but still with that wind lashing our faces and forcing us to work twice as hard. We ride very slightly faster than the day before, 13 km/h, but it's still very hard. We reach Caderousse, a town known for the stone dyke that encircles the whole village. It encircles it so well that there isn't a soul about, and we only find an overpriced restaurant for lunch.

We set off again and ride for almost another 3 hours. The wind is still there, taunting us, playing with our nerves. This trip is already less fun than we'd imagined, but we're not the type to give up after two days, so we hang on, say nothing, stop thinking about our aching legs and that constant push against us. We're still happy to arrive in Lapalud, where we settle into a very nice little Airbnb with all the tools to service our bikes. That lets us give them a quick pump-up for the next day.

2️⃣ A poorly planned start into the wind
We left without taking the weather into account, especially the mistral. Yet this powerful wind doesn't blow all the time, and simply shifting our start by a few days could have spared us a constant fight against the gusts.

25 October 2021: from Lapalud to Le Pouzin

It's cold this morning when we leave. You can feel that we're leaving the Mediterranean climate and gradually entering the orbit of a more continental one. Despite the wind, which never leaves us, the road is very pleasant. It's worth pointing out that the ViaRhôna is very well signposted and our GPS is just a back-up. We ride slightly faster again than the day before, a sign that our legs are getting used to it. It always takes a few days for the body to adjust.

We make the most of the sun to picnic and dawdle a bit by the Rhône. The weather softens during the day; we ride through Montélimar, where we snack in a public park. Around 5 pm we arrive in Le Pouzin, where we sleep at the Ibis hotel. Once again today the ride was too long, and our joints are starting to ache all over. Cassandre's knees hurt and she's beginning to consider stopping, though she keeps the thought to herself for now.

3️⃣ Not breaking in the bikes
We should have spent more time on our new bikes before setting off. Our bodies weren't used to riding them day after day, and we paid for that mistake with sore knees and backsides. Don't set off on brand-new bikes!

26 October 2021: Le Pouzin to Tournon-sur-Rhône

In the morning our bodies protest as we get back in the saddle. The accumulated kilometres are starting to weigh on us, and every pedal stroke reminds Cassandre of the persistent pain in her knees. The wind is already blowing, cold and biting, making the first moments even harder. Yet once we're out of Le Pouzin, the movement wakes up our numb muscles and we quickly pick up the thread of the ViaRhôna again.

From the first kilometres the landscape changes. We ride past La Voulte-sur-Rhône, dominated by its medieval castle perched on a hill. The streets of the centre, still asleep, hint at a peaceful life set to the rhythm of the river and local markets. Further on, farmland stretches as far as the eye can see. Orchards, still bare, hint at the first signs of spring, while hillsides take shape in the distance.

We make good progress to Valence, where we decide to allow ourselves a more comfortable break than a picnic. Riding into the city is easy thanks to well-designed cycling facilities. We quickly reach the centre, drawn by the bustle of the Place des Clercs. Lunchtime is approaching, and we want a proper break after these intense mornings on the bike.

We choose a little restaurant serving generous local food. Sitting on the terrace, we savour every bite like a reward. The waiter, intrigued by our load, asks us a few questions about our trip. We chat happily, enjoying this moment when effort gives way to conviviality. Cassandre takes advantage of the stop to stretch her legs and ease her knees a little.

Setting off after a good meal is always a challenge. The first pedal strokes are heavy and digestion slows us down. Yet once we're out of the city, our bodies gradually find their rhythm again. The ViaRhôna leads us between plains and vineyards, through a few discreet hamlets. In Glun, a little village nestled between the Rhône and the hills, we stop to admire the view of the river, which seems to widen further as we head north.

The wind picks up in the late afternoon, making the last kilometres harder. Every gust forces us to redouble our efforts, and we count the minutes until we arrive in Tournon-sur-Rhône. Finally we spot the castle overlooking the town, and the bustle of the quays gives us new energy. We settle into a café, savouring the end of a day marked by effort, but also by the simple pleasures of a good meal and discoveries on the road.

4️⃣ Stages that were too long
We wanted to move fast, without really measuring the impact of the accumulated distance on our fitness and our enjoyment. Bike touring isn't a race! Shorter days would have let us enjoy the scenery more and avoid exhaustion.

27 October 2021: from Tournon to Saint-Vallier

In the morning we leave Tournon-sur-Rhône under a clear sky, but the wind is already there, very much present, whistling in our ears from the first pedal strokes. We'd hoped for a lull, but it seems determined to keep us company all day. The first kilometres are pleasant all the same, with the ViaRhôna taking us right along the river, past vines clinging to the hillsides and sleepy little hamlets.

But things quickly get harder. The wind strengthens, making every metre more gruelling than the last. It blows in gusts, knocks us off balance, sometimes forces us to put a foot down so as not to be blown sideways. The path, fairly well maintained until now, becomes rougher. In places the asphalt cracks, giving way to gravelly sections where our wheels get bogged down. Cassandre grits her teeth, but it's clear she's suffering. Her already fragile knees can't take the extra effort imposed by the wind.

We struggle on, fighting the gusts and the weariness setting in. At every stop, Cassandre winces getting off her bike. Her pain is intensifying, and so is her worry. It's not just her at stake: there's also our child, snug in her belly.

We somehow make it to Saint-Vallier, exhausted and frustrated. There, Cassandre finally admits it: she can't go on. Her knees hurt too much and she no longer feels safe on this stretch of road. The wind, the state of the surface, the accumulated fatigue… it all adds up and weighs on our morale.

We decide to stop there. You have to listen to your body and recognise when the road becomes too hard. It's not giving up, just a necessary pause. So we take the train to Lyon, leaving behind this day of fighting the elements. Maybe we'll pick it up again later, elsewhere, on a kinder stretch. But for now it's time to catch our breath, rest our legs and above all look after Cassandre and our child.

5️⃣ Underestimating the importance of comfort
Between aching joints and headwinds, our morale was sometimes sorely tested. A bike trip isn't just about kilometres; it's also about enjoyment. We learned that you have to adapt and not hesitate to take breaks, have a rest day or change your route if need be.

Conclusion

This first bike trip wasn't perfect, and that's just as well. We made mistakes, felt the fatigue, battled the wind and sometimes had doubts. But that's also what builds experience. We learned that every kilo counts when you pedal day after day, that the mistral can be a formidable opponent, and that preparing your body before leaving spares you a lot of pain. We understood that bike touring isn't just about moving forward but also about taking time: time to appreciate every landscape, every village we pass through, every chance encounter.

Despite the difficulties, this trip gave us precious moments: picnics by the Rhône, the pleasure of riding under a clear sky, the excitement of early starts and the satisfaction of a day well done. We now know that to enjoy it more, you sometimes have to slow down, adjust and adapt. It may not have been a perfect trip, but it was ours. And above all, it was only the first.