Exploring the Vercors plateau by bike as a family

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The Vercors is a somewhat mysterious land. Long unknown and gazed at from afar by the people of the valleys, the massif was only really discovered in the 19th century, when the first roads were built. Rabelais called it the Inaccessible Mountain, and Jean Giono depicted it in many of his books. Today it still fascinates with its beauty and isolation. We went to pedal there for a few days.

• Scenery: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
• Difficulty: ⭐⭐⭐
• Safety: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
• Ease of finding accommodation: ⭐⭐⭐

Thursday 31 October 2024 – Aix-les-Bains → Saint-Martin-en-Vercors

Setting off from Aix-les-Bains, we face an equation with three unknowns. The first has been worrying us since yesterday: will there be room on the train? The line between Chambéry and Grenoble closes from 9 am, so the last morning train is at 8:26. We're afraid it'll be full of commuters heading to Grenoble, but arriving at the station reassures us straight away. The platform is deserted, and when the train pulls in, it's empty. The bike carriage is even perfectly designed.

The second unknown comes at Grenoble bus station. We'd read everywhere that buses in the region can take bikes on a big rack at the back, but we don't know if that's really the case. Walking to our bay, we see that all the buses do have the famous rack, ours included. We manage to fix our bikes with the help of a young man and take our seats.

That's when the last challenge of this several-hour journey arrives. Will Clémence survive the bends up to Villard-de-Lans? Since she turned two, she's sometimes been carsick. All goes well on Grenoble's long straight roads, but as soon as the road starts climbing, she complains about her tummy. She goes pale and we do everything we can to soften the bus's movements. By some unhoped-for miracle, she holds out all the way to Villard-de-Lans by closing her eyes and snuggling up to Stéphane. We collect our bikes from the back, the trailer and bags from the hold, and breathe a big sigh of relief. It all went well!

The weather is beautiful on the Vercors plateau and we have lunch in our classic way: at a playground. We're going to explore this stronghold of the French Resistance for four days, and we start with the climb up the Col d'Herbouilly to reach Saint-Martin-en-Vercors, our stop for the night. We're doing a short stage, as we were afraid something would go wrong with this multimodal plan.

We make the most of arriving early at the hotel to go for a walk in the surrounding countryside. We follow little paths through the hills and come across a soap workshop. We arrive in the middle of a tour, which we join on the fly, and it turns out to be fascinating. The owner knows soap inside out and manages to blend history with our modern consumer habits. Of course we leave with little soaps that Clémence won't let go of on the way back.

It's only 5:30 pm, but we have to light our way with our phone torches, as night is starting to spread over the valley. The evening star is already visible, which makes us think the whole plateau must be a prime spot for stargazing. It's Halloween night, and on the village's little market square, the festival committee invites everyone for pumpkin soup and mulled wine. Two old men play the accordion and violin, adding to the friendly atmosphere. We go back to eat at the hotel restaurant to end a day that started early in the morning.

Friday 1 November 2024 – Saint-Martin-en-Vercors → La Chapelle-en-Vercors

Who called this place the Vercors "plateau"? Someone who saw the massif from below and imagined a gigantic plain? Or someone who only gets around by car and doesn't realise how rugged the terrain is?

These are the thoughts running through our heads since leaving Saint-Martin-en-Vercors, because the road never stops rolling. Up, then down, without the slightest respite. Fortunately, at noon we stop at today's accommodation to drop off the panniers and ride a little lighter. After a quick lunch, we ride off to visit the Grotte de la Luire.

The Vercors is a land of resistance fighters and places of pilgrimage are legion. We stop regularly to take photos and think of its young heroes of the 1940s. The Grotte de la Luire was a makeshift hospital in 1944, a refuge for the wounded while the Germans relentlessly bombed the whole massif. When they were discovered, the Nazis shot almost all of them, sparing only a few nurses, who were deported.

Our guide is a Belgian with a very strong Walloon accent. His wife runs the little shop in the car park. He's very funny, knows his cave inside out and manages to mix geology with history. We're worried Clémence will be afraid of the dark, but the guide has us make our own candles, which we then put in lanterns.

Even though she's not entirely reassured, she holds up well and also marvels at the beauty of the cave. We learn that a few times a year, when the snow melts, the cavity fills up to a depth of 500 metres and eventually bursts out as a torrent onto the villages below. When the reservoir is full, it's one of the largest underground water reserves in the world.

At 4 pm we ride back the other way to La Chapelle-en-Vercors to play at the playground. Despite the early hour it's already cold, and we head back to our accommodation fairly early. It's rare enough to mention, but we've decided to sleep two nights in the same place. That way, without the panniers, we'll be able to climb passes tomorrow.

Saturday 2 November 2024: La Chapelle-en-Vercors → Col du Rousset

The Vercors educational farm is four kilometres above La Chapelle-en-Vercors. A couple who moved down from the north took over a farm here and transformed it to their taste. Marie welcomes us at 10:30 with her little Lucas in a pushchair. We're the only visitors today, so it'll be a private tour.

We start by feeding the pigs, which greatly amuses Clémence. We say hello to the two female donkeys, who come up without fear. Cassandre asks Marie if there are many wolves around. Her answer surprises us: "yes, loads." She explains that several packs of ten wolves roam the plateau.

She's torn on the subject, between respecting the food chain and needing to protect her livelihood. She tells us that animals are brought in at night all over the Vercors. No animal sleeps outside, as the packs can even attack horses.

We then go to see the goats, then the hens and poultry. We avoid the sled dogs, the couple's other activity, as Clémence really isn't comfortable with dogs.

It's already 11:30 and time to get back on the bikes to finish the climb up the Col de Proncel and drop down to Vassieux-en-Vercors. This tiny village is home to the Resistance museum and many war memorials. The one opposite the town hall is striking for the repetition of family names. It's very clear that the Germans decimated the village by methodically killing entire families.

We have lunch opposite the memorial, a meal bought on the go. Clémence's carefree play in the grass contrasts with the solemnity of the place, but that's life going on. It's already nap time; Clémence climbs back into the trailer while we set off to conquer the Col du Rousset and its viewpoint.

The road along the edge of the ravine is already spectacular, but the end of the 800-metre tunnel reveals a stunning panorama. Leaning on the low wall, we look out over the Baronnies Provençales and the road winding in hairpins down to the town of Die on the other side of the Vercors. The sun beating down and the blue sky lay a phenomenal palette of colours over the valley.

Clémence is still asleep, so we put our jackets back on to start the descent back to La Chapelle-en-Vercors. She wakes up on the way and we stop at the playground, then at a butcher-deli. On his good advice, we discover local products that we take home to cook together for dinner.

Sunday 3 November 2024: La Chapelle-en-Vercors → Saint-Hilaire-du-Rosier

We're in no hurry this morning. The last day of a holiday is always a bit sad, because we know that from tomorrow we won't be spending all our days together, the three of us. We drag out breakfast a little, but we have to leave by 10 at the latest. Our train is at 3:14 pm and we have three hours of cycling ahead. We want to allow some margin in case anything goes wrong.

Clémence helps us pack the panniers; we give her little missions so she feels involved, and at 9:30 we take off. "Take off" is a bit strong, actually, as the road out of the Vercors massif from La Chapelle climbs for ten kilometres. It's Stéphane's turn to pull the trailer, and reaching the top of the Col de Carri is hard going. The gradient sometimes hits 10%. Fortunately the weather is set fair and it's cool, ideal for pedalling.

We're now on a descent that will take us all the way to Saint-Hilaire-du-Rosier station in about thirty kilometres. We stop at Quartier Libre, an inn with a restaurant, café and playground. The place looks like a little paradise, but unfortunately it's a victim of its own success, as there's no room left to eat. We just have a coffee while playing with Clémence on a rudimentary roundabout.

We get back on the bikes, but only go a hundred metres. Right at the bend in the road begins the Combe Laval. At the top of the Col de la Machine, four kilometres of narrow road were carved into the cliff in 1896. Thanks to its panorama, it quickly became a very popular tourist spot. Today a sea of clouds blocks the view of the valley below, but it adds a dreamlike touch. We ride almost in slow motion, the place is so fascinating.

Motorcyclists and drivers are out in numbers too, though it's easy to imagine the place must be mobbed in summer. Cars already struggle to pass each other in November, so you must need to be very careful when it's busy. The parapet isn't very high and you could easily topple into the void. We ride the four kilometres at a very gentle pace through the many tunnels and start the descent that takes us out of the Vercors for good.

The clouds we could see from above gradually get closer, and we realise we're riding through them when the temperature suddenly drops sharply. We have to stop to put on more layers and make sure Clémence is warm enough. We're frozen all the way to Saint-Jean-en-Royans. The drop in temperature combined with the wind from the descent has chilled us to the bone.

We grab a quick bite here but set off again quickly for Saint-Hilaire-du-Rosier, where we catch our train home. Train logistics are always the same: Cassandre takes care of Clémence and the trailer, Stéphane takes care of the bikes. All goes well on the first train, but as so often, problems arise on the busiest line.

Our Valence–Avignon train isn't packed, but it's quite full, and as usual travellers have settled in the bike spaces. Once again we have to get everyone to move so we can put our bicycles in the spaces meant for them. We arrive in Avignon around 6 pm. Returning to normal life always feels strange, as the slow time of bike touring lets you enjoy the little things. To be continued on the next bike adventure!