Into the Trans Verdon

At last, the time had come - I set off on the TransVerdon. The route runs along the Verdon for about five days. Although it is an official cycling route promoted by the tourism board, it is still meant to be a true mountain biking route that leads through remote areas with push sections and proper downhill trails. I am curious, in Germany or Austria this would be unimaginable. They still believe officials that mountain biking only takes place on forest roads and in bike parks.

The tour starts at the Col d‘Allos near the source of the Verdon. This is, however, 1100 meters above Barcelonette, so the initial entry was quite a hassle on a heavily trafficked mountain road. The towering peaks from the previous week's tour came back into view during the ascent. It was now time to slowly bid farewell to these high mountains, as the Verdon would lead me to significantly lower ranges of Provence.

Once at the top, it was still alpine. And the trail winding before me through the alpine meadows looked extremely inviting. I was not disappointed; it provided epic flow all the way down to the town of Allos. If it continued like this, the TransVerdon would surely make it into the top five of my bikepacking tours. Allos, on the other hand, was quite disappointing - it was one of those ugly ski destinations for which France is notorious. Functional buildings, countless lift stations, and cookie-cutter chalets clinging to the hillside. Everything that is dreadful was on display here. And now in summer, when it was all deserted and not hidden beneath thick snow, it seemed even more desolate. So the motto was: get away quickly.

Next was a long traverse across the slope. By then, it was time to look for a suitable bivouac site. Because in the not-too-far Colmars was the last supermarket for two days, and I wanted to take advantage of that tomorrow morning for breakfast and fresh baguettes. I passed up some promising spots, thinking something better would come along. But it didn’t. There was either no water, it was too steep, or it was private land. Difficult, difficult. Ultimately, I crossed the Verdon, which had already carved out a deep gorge here and stood at the sign for Colmars. I tried a bit upstream and found quite a decent spot by the river. It was private land but fairly well hidden and not visible. As a backup option, it was fine. I had time and decided to check out the village first. This was the complete contrast to Allos. A beautifully preserved historic old town surrounded by a ring wall and forts from the 17th century welcomed me. This was far more pleasant to look at than the modern mistakes of ski tourism.

Thanks to intense map study over coffee and cake, I eventually discovered a potential overnight spot. A hiking trail led into a somewhat more secluded gorge away from the village. A dead end that surely wouldn’t see much traffic. After half an hour in push mode, I was there. Deep in a canyon, I found a secluded little spot right by the river. The search had been worth it.

Next came the presumably toughest part of the TransVerdon. Over two days, the route led through fairly remote areas to the highest pass of the tour and several small settlements until Saint-Andre-les-Alpes. After the ascent and a long traverse on a fun, ridable trail, I was quite far from civilization. A very long push section led me through meadows towards a high plateau. A shepherd on a moped came rushing towards me with his two dogs on the trail. Waving his arms, he tried to warn me about something. Thanks to a translation app, I learned - 1700 sheep, nine shepherd dogs. Caution! Aha, well then. Riding uphill wasn’t an option, so I had no choice but to slowly and kindly push past them. The four dogs lounging by the roadside and hundreds of sheep I had to wade through were quite unimpressed by me and let me pass without fuss. I had experienced differently before.

The following high plateau was spectacular in terms of scenery. Several small lakes in a windy, barren grass and stone plain surrounded by the last high peaks again evoked a Wild West atmosphere. The vastness of this landscape was impressive not only visually but also very concrete when moving at what felt like snail's pace. Some sections were rideable but were repeatedly interrupted by long, tough push sections. It dragged on forever until I finally reached the pass.

Here began another world. Towering rocky peaks nearing 3000 meters loomed behind me, while green, Mediterranean-looking hills lay before me. The entire landscape changed abruptly. Another wonderful trail allowed me to dive into it. Two idyllic sleepy villages offered me the urgently needed opportunity to refill water at the well. After the long stretch in blazing sun, I was completely dehydrated. Searching for a camp spot on that day was considerably easier. Gently rolling meadows stretched out from the villages, and at a little distance and elevation, I found a nice, lonely spot with a view. It could have been the perfect conclusion to a wonderfully beautiful day of the tour.

However, as soon as I set up my tent and made it nice and cozy, I heard bleating sheep. And barking dogs. A herd was spreading out just below me. Well, let them graze there, it doesn't bother me. Not ten minutes later, the herd was right in front of my tent. The shepherd dogs first looked on with interest, then one started barking at me. This caught the attention of the others, and suddenly I was the center of their interest. I fully understand that these good animals take their job seriously and defend their herd. But in this case, I wasn't the one who approached them; they approached me. Calmly, I tried to speak to the barking guardians and convince them of my harmlessness. With moderate success. The commotion continued, and I couldn’t retreat either. A rather hopeless and increasingly uncomfortable situation. Until the shepherdess finally appeared. Apologizing kindly for not noticing me earlier, she drove the herd along with the guardians away from my campsite.

The next day took me further to Thorame-Basse, another medium-sized village without a bakery, grocery store, bar, or even accommodation. Interestingly, there was a brewery that was open for two hours in the afternoon. Then I preferred to continue over a laborious ascent on an incredibly rocky gravel road with much ups and downs to the final trail towards Saint-Andre-les-Alpes. More than half of the Trans Verdon would then be completed.

Just before I left, I briefly looked at how I could get to the next supermarket below as quickly as possible, and I noticed that there was even a train station there. And apparently, there were trains going directly to Dignes-Les-Baines from there. This preoccupied me throughout my descent. I actually wanted to go there after completing the Trans Verdon but had previously been unsuccessfully pondering a possible scenic connecting route. The train could be the solution, even if I had to interrupt the Trans Verdon for it. At 2 PM, I was at the bottom, and at 2:41 PM, the connection to Dignes was supposed to arrive. However, this was all a bit contradictory, as various public transport apps and the timetable posted at the train station delivered different results. Sometimes it said something was going, sometimes not. I decided to wait half an hour and let fate decide. If something came, I would go to Dignes. If not, I would continue with the Trans Verdon as planned. A passing Frenchman cleared things up for me. Due to a collapsed tunnel, no train had run for years, but there was a replacement bus service. Whether that took bicycles, he didn’t know either. When the bus arrived, the driver said they usually don’t. But I could pragmatically stow my bike in the luggage compartment; it would be fine. So fate had decided - it was now off to Dignes-Les-Baines for me. By the way, I was the only passenger on the bus. And the driver didn’t even want to sell me a ticket; I could just hop on. Well then, so be it.