Part two of our bike tour takes us through the wonderfully scenic, quiet area of Provence, the backyard of the Cote d’Azur…

Day 13: Villefranche-sur-Mer to Montauroux
Out of power and breathtaking dinner place.

Saturday, May 17th marked the second leg of our trip: the return to Avignon through the Provence region. Known for its lavender fields, charming hilltop villages, and of course, wine and artists like Van Gogh—who we’d encountered at the beginning of our journey. But before we could get there, we had to retrace our steps. This meant breaking our rule of never going back. The easiest ascent into the region was south of Nice, saving several hundred meters of uphill pedaling was enough to convince us to make an exception to our rule.

Given how disappointing the hotel breakfast was, we decided to hit the road early and have a proper breakfast in Nice. About twenty minutes later, we found ourselves wandering through a part of town that looked promising. After a bit of back-and-forth, we stumbled upon an open café across from the Palais du Justice—a name that sounds like it belongs to a superheroes’ fortress. They offered a delightful breakfast menu.

By 8:40 AM, we were back on our bikes, and by 9:30, we were leaving the Côte d’Azur behind, eager to see what Provence had in store for us.

Our planned lunch stop was in Grasse, the self-proclaimed perfume capital of the and home to iconic fragrances like Chanel No. 5. We arrived at the bottom of a long flight of stairs that led up to the historic downtown, locked our bikes, and began the climb. Neither of us are fans of perfumes, so we skipped the museums and instead took in the sights, sounds, and the faint smells of the town.

Though Grasse is technically still part of the Cote d’Azur, it feels like it’s in “the backyard.” It was a refreshing change from the likes of Nice or Villefranche, yet still charming in its own old-world way.

We had lunch at a restaurant called Spaghetteria, where we enjoyed penne followed by a delicious crepe for dessert. As we savored our treat, we noticed a woman pushing a bike past us. We wondered how she managed to get up here, as the stairs were tough enough with just our backpacks. A short walk further down the pedestrian area led to a road that wound its way back down the hill. Turns out, we had given up on our bikes a little too soon—had we kept going, we would have found this route! Oh well.

The road leading into the Provence region was steep and challenging. Knowing we’d need a lot of battery power, we had a plan: at lunch, we’d charge our batteries, and/or, once my battery hit 50%, we’d swap. This way, we figured we’d both have enough charge to make it to our B&B.

Well, things didn’t go as planned. First, since we left our bikes at the bottom of Grasse we couldn’t charge our batteries at lunch. Second, I took over Kathrin’s battery a bit too late, it was already down to 37%.  While we went on the charge dropped, bit by bit, until, 1.6 kilometers from our destination, it finally ran out. Watching that percentage tick down was easily the most demoralizing experience of the week.

Kathrin offered to take her battery back and let me ride ahead, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree. So, we compromised. I put my battery back in my bike, took hers with me, and rode to the B&B to charge it a bit, planning to come back and rescue her.

With this mission in mind, I headed off and arrived at the B&B quickly. The proprietors—a warm, welcoming couple—greeted me enthusiastically, showing me around. I was impressed by the place and, got caught up in the hospitality. Then, out of nowhere, Kathrin appeared! I realized I’d completely forgotten my rescue mission, leaving her sitting on a rock waiting. Needless to say, I didn’t quite come across as her knight in shining armor. Luckily, it was partly downhill where she could let the bike roll and not too long of a walk, so her wait wasn’t too grueling. And to her credit, I wasn’t in the doghouse for long—she knows me well!

This wasn’t your typical B&B. The owners had built a small collection of apartments on the far side of their patio, opposite their own house, and generously opened up their pool, pétanque court, and backyard to guests. It truly felt as if we were staying with friends.

When we asked for a dinner recommendation, they suggested an Italian restaurant in a nearby town called Callian, advising us to mention Bernard’s name and request a table with a view. We made the 2.5-kilometer journey by bike, arriving early enough to explore the charming hilltop town beforehand. It was the epitome of a picturesque Provence village. At the restaurant, we were led through the main dining area to an enclosed terrace with a breathtaking view of the hills and a castle in the next village. We definitely had the best seats in the house!

Day 14: Montauroux to Sillans
Wedding and cascades.

The next morning started wonderfully with a superb breakfast in the hosts’ own dining room, where they served breakfast to order. We enjoyed a spread of smoked salmon, assorted cheeses, fresh croissants, eggs cooked to our preference, and more. While we ate, we had a lovely chat with our hosts. They shared that two years ago, during the pandemic, they left the Paris area to run this B&B. Both enjoy traveling, and the wife is an artist; her stunning paintings decorate the dining room walls, as professional as any we’ve seen. She even smokes the ham and salmon herself. Her talents are truly impressive!

We finally said goodbye to our wonderful hosts at 8:30 a.m. and set off toward our next destination. The B&B had been a bit outside of town so only this morning we toured Montauroux. With scenic views, churches, and several stops to soak up more Provence culture, our progress was a bit slow—but thoroughly enjoyable.

The route presented its share of challenges. It was hilly, with some steep climbs. At one point, we encountered a road closure, so we simply lifted our bikes over the barrier and rode the 100 meters to the other side. There was an empty construction area along the way, but luckily it posed no trouble for us to pass. By mid-morning, we reached the Rayol viaduct, which Kathrin had marked on the map during her planning. It was well worth the stop.

By 11:30, we arrived in Claviers and quickly spotted an appealing restaurant for lunch. Of course, when you’re hungry, every restaurant looks appealing! Unfortunately, it wasn’t open yet, so we decided to ride a bit further. The path was challenging, especially for Kathrin, with its gravelly surface, tight turns winding down through steep terrain. By noon, we reached Callas, a larger town with a bustling atmosphere. We found another inviting restaurant near a lively farmers’ market. As this day was another one where a single battery charge was tight, we were glad that the restaurant staff kindly allowed us to charge while we enjoyed a delicious French chicken dish and dessert. Afterward, I left a generous tip to show our appreciation.

Before getting back on the road, we picked up some bread, cheese, and olives from the market to enjoy for dinner later that evening. Then, feeling refreshed and well-prepared, we continued on our journey.

The route led us through Draguignan, where a lively carnival was underway, and Fayosc, another charming town. We circled around the church, and just as we were leaving, a wedding car caravan passed by. Leading the way were two motorcycles, followed by the newlyweds in a classic Citroën 2CV, known as the Ente (Duck.) After the motorcade had gone, we continued on, only to cross paths with them again in a different part of town.

By 4:30 p.m., we reached Sillans, where our B&B was located. As we approached, we thought we might have the wrong address, but this small house tucked into a narrow alley was indeed our accommodation for the night. The owners weren’t there, but we easily retrieved our key from a safe by the door and let ourselves in. Since there was no place to secure our bikes, we found a nearby car park just three minutes away.

With everything settled, we set off to see the town’s main attraction—the cascades. We followed a path leading close to the taller falls, which ended at a small blue pond fed by smaller cascades. It was a scenic spot, though not particularly breathtaking. We decided to head back to the park entrance and try the other path. Along the way, we stopped at our room to pick up our picnic dinner, hoping to find a nice bench in the park.

The second path led us to the larger falls, which turned out to be quite a sight—a bit reminiscent of Muyltnomah Falls in Oregon. The route ended at a platform that offered a picture-perfect view of the falls. The one thing it didn’t offer was a place to sit. Not one single bench anywhere along the way. So we took our dinner back to the B&B where we ate it on the balcony of the common room. At least that is what we thought it was. Later that night, once the hosts were back, I learned that it was their private residence. Well, a B&B, with an open room and kitchen, we put 2 and 2 together. The couple were very surprised when I told them the door was open and said it was a mistake.

Day 15: Silans to Manosque
Don’t try to outsmart your navigation system, and sharing is not caring in France.

This B&B turned out to be a B only. it didn’t offer breakfast. So early morning we headed out to find something on the road.

The ride began with an easy, gentle downhill section—a perfect way to ease into the day. Unfortunately, we did not pass any populated area and therefore also no breakfast place. So, we checked the map and found a little village off our track and hoped the café that was marked would be open. Especially as the road down was steep and we didn’t want to do this detour in vain, but we were lucky and enjoyed a simple yet satisfying meal while watching the town slowly come to life.

Getting back on track, we followed the directions from Kathrin’s navigation system. The suggested route seemed like an odd detour, so we decided to take a more direct path. However, when we reached the point where we planned to rejoin the original route, there was no road in sight—at least not above ground. The road was actually a tunnel beneath us, which explained why the navigation system had recommended the longer route. In the end, we cycled a bit further than planned but were rewarded with some beautiful scenery along the way.

By mid-morning, our journey took us into the stunning Parc Naturel Régional du Verdon, with amazing views from the cliffs. The road eventually brought us to Vinon-sur-Verdon, a charming little town that was preparing for the lunchtime crowd. Craving something hearty, we stopped at an Italian restaurant and decided to share a pizza. To our surprise, the waitress flatly refused—sharing was strictly not allowed. Taken aback, we left in search of another option.

After a bit of wandering, we stumbled upon a laid-back eatery with an inviting vibe. We asked if we could share a kebab platter, bracing ourselves for another no, but the hostess smiled warmly and said, “Of course, no problem.” Instantly, we knew we’d found our kind of place. The food was delicious, the atmosphere relaxed, and the staff friendly. 

After lunch, our ride was uneventful, and within an hour, we rolled into Manosque. The town greeted us with a relaxed charm. Our hotel was simple but comfortable, and the warm welcome from the hostess made a good impression. She showed us to a secure garage where we could park our bikes and even charge them. With a map in hand, she highlighted the town’s main attractions, setting the stage for our afternoon exploration.

Manosque isn’t a tourist hotspot—it’s an authentic Provençal town with narrow streets, hidden corners, and a rhythm all its own. We spent the rest of the day meandering through its winding alleys, uncovering charming nooks, and hunting for geocaches. The simplicity of the experience was its greatest appeal. There’s something magical about a place that doesn’t try to impress but wins you over effortlessly.

Later, as I returned from my evening photo walk, Kathrin greeted me with news about the next day’s weather. Rain was forecast to hit Apt, our destination, by 3 PM. We had planned a detour to Forcalquier, a hilltop town steeped in history and full of the quintessential Provençal charm we’d come to love. But factoring in the weather, we realized that making the stop would almost guarantee we’d arrive in Apt drenched.

Forcalquier sounded enchanting, but we reluctantly decided to skip it in favor of keeping dry. Besides, Apt promised its own rewards, including a lavender distillery I’d found while researching. Confident there’d be plenty to see and do, we settled on a plan and turned in for the night, ready to embrace whatever the next day’s ride would bring.

Day 16: Manosque to Apt
Escaping the rain

Breakfast the next morning was scheduled for 8am, but when Kathrin went down for a tea at 7:35 she found the room already open and ready to serve, so I came down and we got an early start. To our surprise the tables were in the entrance/lobby area. It wasn’t a problem, really, as the hotel was small with only a few guests. One group of German cyclers were checking out and we had a short chat with them about the region and our cycling experiences.

Once on the bikes, the route alternated between quiet country roads and sections of the EV8 bike path. Around 24 km in, we came across lavender fields—the quintessential Provençal sight. Sadly, we were too early in the season to see them in bloom; the vibrant purple flowers only appear in June and July. I made a mental note to return during the blooming season for a photography trip.

The rest of the ride to Apt was a smooth and enjoyable downhill cruise. We arrived at our hotel around 12:30, only to find it closed until 4 p.m., so we decided to grab some lunch. As we ate, a heavy rainstorm began at 2 p.m., disrupting our plan to visit the lavender distillery. Seeking shelter, we waited out the downpour in a bus stop. Once the rain eased, we decided to attempt the steep uphill ride to the distillery. After just 1.5 kilometers of grueling climbing, we got a call from the hotel letting us know our room was ready. Taking it as a sign, we turned back. Later, the hostess confirmed that the entire route was uphill—we were relieved we didn’t push on!

Cleaned up and rested, we explored Apt, another quiet, untouristy town, which we enjoyed.  We eventually came across a festival with the typical carnival rides and games. We wandered around a bit and were quickly done with that. Afterwards we went back to our lunch restaurant for dinner. After ordering some drinks the waiter told us that the kitchen would open at 7pm, less than an hour away but too late for Kathrin. So she decided to skip the meal. About 15 minutes later the manager came to our table to tell us we could order food. What a nice surprise! So we ordered the tempting meat and cheese dish we saw at lunchtime, which we thoroughly enjoyed.

Day 17: Apt to Avignon
South African encounter, prehistoric bridge and return to start

The next morning, we went down to the lobby to wait for breakfast to start, hoping to get a cup of coffee/tea while waiting it out. There we met a couple from South Africa. We struck up a conversation and learned that they were on a package bike tour that included baggage transfer between hotels. They were very nice and friendly and the conversation was so pleasant that once breakfast was ready, we shared a table.

The day started cool and overcast, with a downhill path tempered by a headwind that had us reaching for jackets. An hour later, we arrived at Pont Julien, a beautifully preserved Roman stone bridge from 3 BC, built along the Via Domitia, connecting Italy to the Roman territories in France.

At lunch time we arrived in Cavalion, a very unspectacular town. We searched for a place to eat and found an unspectacular pizza restaurant. Having learned about French dining rules, we asked if we could share a pizza and got a strict NO, but take away was allowed. While we were waiting and looking for a bench, the waiter had softened up on his stance and offered to let us have the pizza at a table, as long as we ate it out of the box. As a gesture of appreciation, we also ordered some sparkling water and orange juice – and I gave him a generous tip. As I was paying, he explained that a set table comes with a charge, and when a couple shares a meal, it disturbs the system which “the boss” doesn’t like. Fair enough.

The road out of town was quiet and calm, and we were soon deep into our own thoughts. That is, until I realized we’d strayed off course. No big deal, though—a quick detour and 5 kilometers later, we were back on track. Our wheels soon found their way onto an old railway line, repurposed into a scenic pedestrian and cycle path. In one section, the rusted tracks remained, perhaps as a nod to history—or maybe the budget ran out halfway through the project. (Who’s to say?)

 We arrived peacefully on the outskirts of Avignon and began navigating the city streets. This is where the peacefulness ended and negotiating the city traffic began. When we finally arrived at the car park, I spotted a familiar sight: the same white car we had parked next to two weeks ago. Relief washed over me—it meant no one had noticed the little ding I’d accidentally left on its rear door while unloading. With that, we loaded up and made our getaway, as inconspicuous as ever.

For our second stay in this town, I booked a charming hotel tucked away on a quiet side street in the historic heart of town. Its location promised tranquility, yet it placed us just steps from the city’s storied past. Keeping the local meal schedule in mind, we retraced our steps to the touristy district we’d discovered during our first visit. Dinner wasn’t exactly a showcase of French culinary mastery, but it was satisfying enough. Later, during my evening photowalk, I stumbled upon a fascinating connection to history—our hotel was just around the corner from the Place de Corps Saints, once a paupers’ cemetery and the final resting place of Cardinal Pierre du Luxembourg. A short stroll in the other direction revealed a peaceful park centered around a 14th-century church, an oasis perfect for reflection and respite.

Day 18 Avignon to Frankfurt
Too early for breakfast and detours.

The next morning, eager to start the day at 7:30, we found ourselves ahead of the hotel’s schedule. To make use of the time, I led Kathrin on a walk to show her the picturesque park I’d found the night before. We paused to soak in the serene scenes of morning life—locals beginning their routines, a homeless man sleeping on a bench. Returning to the hotel, we hoped to find the breakfast room ready. No such luck. Resigned, we waited in our room until 8:00, when we finally enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before heading out to the parking lot.

By 9:00, the car was packed up and we were on the road home. Around lunchtime, our stomachs and fuel tank signaled it was time for a break. The French rest stop we chose lived up to the high standard we’d come to expect: expansive, spotless, and stocked with a variety of tempting food options. After a quick 30-minute stop, we hit the road again, energized. Hours later, hunger and a low fuel gauge forced another stop, but this time we were in Germany. The contrast was stark: a tiny, lackluster rest stop with dim lighting and uninspiring food options. The heat-lamp-warmed fare reminded me of something from a 7-Eleven, and while I managed to settle on the least offensive choice, Kathrin opted to skip the meal altogether. During the rest of the drive, we speculated that France’s superior rest stops might be funded by their steep tolls—an expense German highways forego.

As the hours wore on, fatigue caught up with me, making it difficult to keep my eyes focused. Kathrin took over driving while I rested. Google Maps, our otherwise reliable navigator, had thrown a curveball earlier in the day by unexpectedly rerouting us via the A6 autobahn. Though initially disconcerting, the detour turned out fine, with minimal traffic and smooth sailing. We made the mistake of turning off navigation as we approached the Frankfurt area. Despite knowing the area well, Kathrin missed an exit—she must have been tired too. 

Finally, 7:30, we rolled into our driveway, travel-weary but grateful to be home.

This was our longest bike tour yet, but the memories—the contrast between the dazzling Côte d’Azur and the rustic charm of Provence are unforgettable. The Côte d’Azur had been a whirlwind of excitement—standing in awe before the Olympic flame in Cassis, catching a glimpse of the glamour surrounding the Cannes Film Festival, and imagining the roar of cars in the Monaco Grand Prix. Yet, as thrilling as those moments were, Provence’s quieter allure brought its own kind of magic. Its beauty lay in the simplicity of lavender fields, centuries-old town squares, and cobbled streets where time seemed to slow. We realized how lucky we were to experience both ends of the spectrum.

You can see more of my photos from this trip on my flickr page.