Motorists tend to see France as a challenge to be wrestled into submission.
They end up in the south — very often at our house — wild-eyed, on the verge
of madness. “Straight from Calais, 12 hours nonstop!” they cry in manic
triumph, before collapsing for a couple of days.
Their wives (for these fanatics are always men) look ready to slip a stiletto
between the husband’s ribs, if only they could summon the energy. The
children are in a road-induced cataleptic trance.
And they call this a holiday. There is, of course, a simple, civilised
alternative to such lunacy. It is to consider that you’re on hols the moment
you land in France. In other words, slow down, stop to eat, sleep and see
something of the country beyond the endless strip of asphalt.
Not too much. You’ll still get to your destination — but in two days, rather
than a straight-through road-kill rampage. Here we show you how to do it,
highlighting three main routes south from the Channel.
You’ll be pausing in villages and smaller towns near the motorway, eating
proper meals and generally getting a feel for the warp and weft of the land.
And, on the first one — through central France — you’ll be gliding over the
newly opened and quite magnificent Millau viaduct, 890ft above the River
Tarn: far easier to appreciate if you’re relatively rested.
A few points before we kick off. French motorway driving has grown less
anarchic in recent times, not least because there’s a dense sprinkling of
radars across the network. So take care if 81mph — the general limit — isn’t
sufficient for you.
At toll stations, avoid the channels marked with a lower-case “t”. They’re for
season-ticket holders only.
And don’t be too suspicious of French service stations. They’re usually big,
bright and equipped with clean toilets and rather better coffee than you’d
expect.
ROUTE ONE: To the south of France
THE CENTRAL route, through the Berry and over the Massif Central mountains to
Languedoc, the eastern Pyrenees and onwards, if you wish, to the costas of
Mediterranean Spain.
DAY ONE, MORNING
Calais to Péronne
100 miles, £6.40 in tolls
Leaving Calais is a piece of cake and, frankly, not much cause for regret.
From Eurotunnel or the ports, simply follow signs for the A26 to Reims and
Paris. Soon enough you’re in a surprisingly bucolic landscape — give or take
the odd slag heap — and bowling past Arras.
Now take the A1 towards Paris (avoid being whisked off to Reims) and, as
hunger pangs kick in, come off at exit 13.1 to Péronne. Initially, you will
think you’re being sent for lunch to the industrial French equivalent of
Burnley.
Why here, then? Well, first, there’s nothing wrong with Burnley, and if
Péronne looks a bit haphazard, it’s because it was fearfully smacked about
in the first world war (we’re on the Somme here). The Historial museum (£5)
in the castle is the finest and most moving first world war museum anywhere:
if time allows, don’t miss it, and there are two pretty decent restaurants
in town.
On Rue Beaubois, the Hostellerie des Remparts (00 33-3 22 84 01 22; menus from
£13) is a spot of solid French provincial class, with excellent regional
dishes. Have a bash at the eels. Slightly further out, towards Arras on the
N17, the Auberge La Quenouille (4 Ave des Australiens, 3 22 84 00 62; menus
from £11) has a pleasing traditional atmosphere and a summer terrace.
AFTERNOON
Péronne to Bourges
241 miles, £18.50 in tolls
So, back to the motorway, across battlefields now returned to arable farming
... and on to Paris. No need for panic.
What you do is make for “Paris centre” — until you pick up signs for Bordeaux.
Don’t let these go. Follow Bordeaux slavishly and, with luck, you’ll stagger
through the capital’s outer road tangle and emerge the other side in 40-45
minutes.
Stick with the Bordeaux signs as you roll across the Beauce breadbasket to
Orléans. Here you ditch Bordeaux to follow Bourges and Clermont-Ferrand on
the A71. Shortly, you arrive at Vierzon, where there’s a choice. If you’re
making for the Dordogne, Toulouse or central Pyrenees, take the A20 towards
Limoges, stopping for the night in Argenton-sur-Creuse, a delightful old
riverside town. Le Cheval Noir is a former posthouse with simple, stylish
comfort and a good-value restaurant (27 Rue Auclert-Descottes, 2 54 24 00
06, www.le-chevalnoir.com, doubles from £33, though go for the slightly
bigger ones from £38; menus from £13). Eight miles up the road at Bouesse,
the Château de Bouesse (2 54 25 12 20, www.chateau-bouesse.de, doubles from
£61) is an altogether statelier, indeed medieval, experience, but with
up-to-the-minute standards imposed by German owners.
If, however, you’re with us en route to Languedoc and the rest, stay on the
A71 at Vierzon, continue to exit 7 and dart off to Bourges, where
contemporary life buzzes about a regal past in what is one of the most
beguiling towns in central France.
Charles VII was based here during the Hundred Years’ war and would probably
still be happy (or as happy as he ever was) wandering around the sinuous
streets, half-timbered buildings and gothic architecture. Ensure you see the
vast St Etienne cathedral and exterior of the Jacques Coeur palace (though
little is gained by paying to see the inside). It is better still by night,
on the free illuminated walk around alleys and courtyards.
The most interesting place to stay is Les Bonnets Rouges on the tiny Rue
Thaumassèrie, off Rue Bourbonnoux (2 48 65 79 92, www.bourgestourisme.com,
doubles from £49, B&B). Though this chambres-d’hôtes is bang in the
town centre, it feels as if it’s been transferred from the country, complete
with garden and country cousins who don’t stint on breakfast.
More orthodox is the Hotel d’Angleterre (1 Place-des-Quatre-Piliers, 2 48 24
68 51, www.bestwestern.fr, doubles from £58 — but go for those at £62 or
£68, all renewed last year). On a tiny square, this is the sort of discreet
provincial hotel that France does very well.
Dine at the D’Antan Sancerrois at 50 Rue Bourbonnoux (round the corner from
the Bonnets-Rouges, from £20). It’s just changed hands, but not its lively,
“regional brasserie” style. Les Beaux Arts (1 Place Cujas, 2 48 24 52 67;
from £11.20) is more traditional, with an agreeable summer terrace.
DAY TWO, MORNING
Bourges to Aumont-Aubrac
201 miles, £8.50 in tolls
Straight south, to skirt Clermont-Ferrand before tacking up into the Massif
Central. Soon, you’ll be driving at altitudes higher than any peak in
England and Wales, over the rocky, rolling Lozère uplands. This is one of
the loveliest motorway stretches in France — roof-of-the-world stuff, past
forest, pasture and tough stone villages hunkered down against frequently
vicious elements.
Aumont-Aubrac, at exit 35, is one such village — but with a fine restaurant of
the sort you sometimes find tucked away in remoter French outposts. Pierre
Roudgé took over the Grand Hôtel Prouhèze from the Prouhèze family recently,
but has kept the regional-meets- gastronomic cooking at an equivalent level,
ie gas mark 9 (2 Rte Languedoc, 00 33 4 66 42 80 07, www.prouheze.com ; from
£25). And if you don’t fancy the full monty, there’s a cheerful brasserie
operation alongside, with simpler stuff from £14 for two courses.
Now, you’ve got about 3hr 30min to your destination. If you can bear to make
that five hours, and want to please the kids, don’t return immediately to
the motorway. Instead, take the N9, direction Marvejols, turning off left
just before to the Loups du Gevaudan, western Europe’s only wolf park
(family entry, £12.85). The setting is spectacular, the beasts rather
exciting and the owners enthused beyond reason by all things lupine.
AFTERNOON
Aumont-Aubrac to Collioure
205 miles, £8.50 tolls
Back onto the motorway, to continue through this glorious countryside until,
wham, you come upon the proof that man can enhance, as well as foul up, a
landscape. Almost 1½ miles long and with its tallest pylon topping the
Eiffel Tower, the Millau viaduct spans the Tarn valley with an elegant
finesse that makes the facts of its construction irrelevant.
It is as if an ethereal procession of ships — sails down, rigging up — was
floating across the gap. It may be daft to get emotional about a bridge, but
I can’t help that.
The irony is that it is best experienced not in the approaching or in the
crossing (though this is dramatic enough) but from down below in Millau.
Yes, that’s right — the very town whose epic summertime traffic jams gave
rise to its construction.
As everyone else is now using the bridge, there are no longer jams in Millau —
so, either now or on your return, you should leave the motorway before the
bridge, filter down into the town, stop at one of the observation points and
get an eyeful of the item in its entirety. This will add half an hour to the
trip, but I doubt you’ll be disappointed.
And so to the vast, barren Larzac plateau, home to rocks, to sheep whose milk
produces Roquefort cheese and to rural rebellion: José Bové, moustachioed
scourge of GM crops and McDonald’s, is based here.
Then, after the Escairolle tunnel, the road plunges wildly down the mountain
and, from Lodève, you’re in the real south — of vines, stark light and
mineral heat. Follow signs for Béziers. Shortly after Pézenas — where both
Clive of India and Molière stopped off — there’s a short break in the
motorway.
No problem. Pick up blue signs to Narbonne, Perpignan and Barcelona and,
within a few miles, you’re on the A9, soaking up sun and miles on the
Languedoc plain, the heaviest wine-producing territory on the planet.
At Narbonne, note the cathedral broadcasting its dominance across the
flatlands, but don’t lose concentration. Otherwise, you’ll be siphoned off
towards Toulouse. Ensure you stay in the left- hand lanes towards Perpignan.
Your rewards are sea and lagoons on the left, the Corbières hills on the right
and, soon, the lofty Pyrenees straight ahead. When, around about here, the
nippers ask, for the millionth time, “Are we there yet?”, you may now
justifiably scream, “Almost, for chrissakes!”
By-pass Perpignan to take exit 42, from where you follow Perpignan South until
you pick up signs for Elne and Argeles-sur-Mer. Circle both and then wind
down the hill into Collioure. For the class of an old-style Catalan home,
plus lovely gardens, check into the Casa Païral (Impasse des Palmiers, 4 68
82 05 81, www.hotel-casa-pairal.com,
doubles from £55 to May 31, £61 June through September).
It’s both bang central and quietly withdrawn down a little alley. Slightly
more sprightly is Les Templiers (12 Quai de l’Amirauté, 4 68 98 31 10,
www.hotel-templiers.com , doubles from £33, or £36 July- September). You’ll
enjoy bobbing about Collioure’s titchy streets and squares, the fort and
wonderful church tower, before bathing ... but you’ll not be alone. Book
early, then.
ROUTE TWO: To Italy
THE CLASSIC, eastern route heads via the Rhône valley to Provence, the Côte
d’Azur and, if you’ve got the energy, on to the Italian riviera.
DAY ONE, MORNING
Calais to Arras
71 miles, £4.50 in tolls
You’ll leave Calais exactly as do those who take the central route, and with
as few tears. Follow signs for the A26, Paris and Reims, hit the open road —
and then, instead of bowling past Arras, roll right into the town, from exit
7. Make for “Centre Ville”, then “Les Places”. In the Grand Place you may
park either over- or underground.
You may also be awestruck by the fantastic line-up of baroque Flemish
frontages both here and on the adjoining Place des Héroes. Like a parade of
gigantic flat skittles, they were clearly purpose-designed for prosperous
Flemish townsfolk to issue forth from — and contemporary commerce does them
no injustice. Arras is immensely proud of them, though less so of its most
famous son, Robespierre. Difficult, I suppose, to know how to celebrate the
founder of modern totalitarianism.
Stroll, smile, take an apéritif and repair for lunch. Best in town — indeed
among the best in northern France — is La Faisanderie, down in the
stone-and-brick vaults under the Grand Place (No45, 3 21 48 20 76, shut
Mon/Tues lunch, from £20). Jean-Pierre Dargent’s cooking will set standards
difficult to match on the rest of your holiday.
But it may be too soon for such extravagance. If so, head for Carpe Diem (8B
Rue des Petits-Viéziers), a brick’n’ wood contemporary bistro with a £7.20
lunch menu and splendid beef in beer.
AFTERNOON
Arras to Beaune
318 miles, £23 in tolls
Return to the A26 and stick on it towards Reims, avoiding all exhortations
down the A1 to Paris. This is hedge-free arable land, where farmers still
plough up bombs and bodies from the great war (much to the farmers’
annoyance, incidentally. Not only do they occasionally get blown up, but
also work has to stop and the official palaver holds up work even longer).
Slide past Reims, now heading for Lyons — with, soon on the right, the
Montagne de Reims cloaked in some of the champers region’s best-tailored
vineyards. If you owned just five acres here, you’d be made. On the horizon
shortly comes Troyes, a useful spot to stop in the event that you’ve
forgotten something vital in the packing. The town’s collection of
cut-price, brand-name factory shops is unmatched in Europe. Though, if
you’re a normally constituted male like me, you’re free to keep this
information to yourself and roar past with the CD player up loud.
Continue round Dijon (still following Lyons signs) to yet another stretch of
world- beating vineyards. Between Dijon and Beaune, the Côte d’Or is the
Beverly Hills of Burgundy wine, top plonk domains succeeding one another as
in a wine buff’s dream. The vine fields themselves, climbing up the little
hills, are so neat that they appear combed into the landscape.
Choice time now. Should you fancy an evening in a quiet, fabulously famous
wine village, take exit 1 to Nuits-St-Georges and double back a couple of
miles to Vougeot. This is one of those villages where the agricultural
reality of wine (wellies, tractors, mud) sits alongside the posher aspect
(cut glass, noble tasting rooms, ladies in silk scarves) and both get on
famously.
Check into the Hotel-de-Vougeot (18 Rue du Vieux-Château, 3 80 62 01 15,
www.hotel-vougeot.com , doubles from £50, May through September), a lovely,
sober, stone-built setup. Rooms, big and simply tasteful, are in annexes,
one of them parked right in the vines but a grape-pip spit from the
Clos-de-Vougeot chateau. No restaurant, but the Clos-de-la- Vouge, just up
the little street and across the stream, does the business from £14.30.
If, on the other hand, you need to make (considerably) more of a splash,
continue on the motorway a few moments to Beaune and slide into the centre
to Le Cep (Rue Maufoux, 3 80 22 35 48, www.hotel-cep-beaune.com , doubles
from £115). This is the sort of sumptuous spot where Louis XIV might stay,
if he ever stayed at hotels (and wasn’t dead). And, as well as great
historical class reviewed for the modern era, it also boasts one of the best
restaurants around; from £32.
You’ll not want to go out, but you should, for Beaune is the wine
capital of Burgundy, plump with ancestral wealth built on plonk (quite
literally: millions of bottles lie ageing in cellars under the town). Wander
the wriggling cobbled streets — a glass or two will help you handle the
curves — study the food shops on, say, Rue Monge, and, most of all, the
superb Hôtel-Dieu, the hospital for the poor put up in the days when,
because they couldn ’t really cure anything, all the money went into the
building. It shut in 1971 and is now open for public perusal for £3.90. Full
of interest, this is a monument for those who don’t like monuments. If you
are not awestruck by multicoloured roofs, the Van der Weyden Last Judgment
polyptych or syringes the size of fire extinguishers, I suggest you stay
home.
DAY TWO, MORNING
Beaune to Orange
219 miles, £16.50 in tolls
Start by cruising through southern Burgundy before entering Beaujolais and so
to Lyons, which can be a devil to get through in summer. If you want to quit
our route for the Alps, Turin, Genoa and a quicker trip to the Italian
riviera, head off east here for Chambéry.
Otherwise, follow the first signs for Marseilles. These will take you right
round Lyons — longer than going through the centre, but less liable to
second-city snarl-ups. And now you’re in the Rhône valley — though the river
itself is frustratingly out of view most of the time. On the other hand, you
have pleasing little hills, increasingly clear light and the red roofs. By
Montélimar, home of nougat, most French people would agree that you’re in
the real south — though why this should begin with tooth-breaking lumps of
oversweet confectionery is anyone’s guess. By Orange, it’s time for lunch. A
couple of choices. Either leave the motorway at exit 21 for Orange itself
and wend into the centre to Le Parvis (55 Cours Pourtoules, 4 90 34 82 00,
from £17). This is a classy and classically Provençal spot. It’s also handy
for the huge Roman theatre (£5.40), which you really shouldn’t miss.
Alternatively, stay on the A7 towards Marseilles (avoid the branch towards
Nîmes) until the next exit, 22, then make for Courthezon and so, 10 minutes
from the motorway, into Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Here, amid the deceptive
drowsiness of the Rhône’s most famous wine village, La Mère Germaine has
been feeding folk of your status (statesmen and so forth) since 1922. La
Mère herself has now passed on to the great kitchen in the sky, but the
eponymous restaurant remains imbued with her spirit — and wine people still
gather on the terrace for loud lunches (3 Rue du Commandant Lemaître, 4 90
83 54 37, www.lameregermaine.com, midday menus from £11.50).
AFTERNOON
Orange to Menton
189 miles, £16.40 in tolls
Back on the road and, when given the chance, abandon Marseilles signs for
Nice. Romp across the Provençal plain, past the vast white slab of Mont Ste
Victoire, alongside the Maures mountains and tree-clad Esterel hills, to
Cannes, for a glimpse of the Med through the flashy sprawl. As you near
Nice, pick up signs for Monaco and Italy. These will whisk you round the
back of the city, over viaducts, through tunnels and a quickstep of
tollbooths and finally up the hill — from where you burst, with delight,
onto the coast. My oh my, but this is lovely. Mountains drop directly into
the briny, which sparkles away endlessly. The sky is huge, the possibilities
infinite. You may be chugging away in a Mondeo but, all of a sudden, you’ll
feel touched, if not by grace, then at least by glamour. I guarantee it.
Drive on, skirting Monaco, to exit 59, the last turn-off before Italy. Wind
down gently into Menton, the civilised person’s Riviera town. Town-centre
traffic is a bit of a bind, but once you’ve dumped the car, you’ll not want
to find it again. Slotted between sea and mountains, the setting is
magnificent. Doing Menton in high style means staying at Les Ambassadeurs, a belle-époque
palace due to reopen after wholesale redecoration on May 15 (3 Rue
Partouneaux, 4 93 28 75 75, doubles from £236). Those with slightly more
modest budgets might take them to the Hotel Riva, right by the sea (600
Promenade du Soleil, 4 92 10 92 10, www.rivahotel.com , doubles from £68).
Its blockish, modern aspect disguises light and airy class within — and
there’s a free stay for one child under 16 sharing the parents’ bedroom.
In the evening, eat in the old town at A Braijade Meridounale, on the tiny Rue
Longue (No66, 00 33 4 93 35 65 65, from £18), a winning, cellar-like spot
where meat and fish brochettes are cooked on a wood-burning stove. Or try
the more intimate Le Boudoir (14 Ave Boyer, 4 93 28 28 09, from £11 for
two-course menu of the day, otherwise from £17.50).
