Barbizon comes back at the end of a day with a different face, once the day-trippers have gone. The shops close, the terraces empty and the village slows to the pace of the forest behind it. The sandstone ridges around Barbizon, the Gorges d'Apremont and the Franchard area, are a short ride away, and they catch the evening sun in layers of grey and orange, with heather and silver birch growing between the boulders and the sandy tracks. It is wild country, in the middle of a densely populated region, and it is a strangely quiet place when the light is low.
An ancient wood, the Bas-Bréau, lies on the edge of the village, and it contains some of the oldest oaks in the forest, some of them hundreds of years old. The painters of Barbizon came to sketch them, and a few of the trees were given names and protected as early as the nineteenth century, when the forest became one of the first protected landscapes in the world. In 1861 a decree set aside part of the forest as an artistic reserve, one of the earliest protected landscapes anywhere, reflecting how seriously the painters took their woods.
The ride from Fontainebleau along the forest road is the nicest way to arrive or leave. The surface is smooth, bends are gentle, and tall trunks flash past on both sides, with the road dipping in and out of shadow. Be wary at dusk, when deer and wild boar cross the road and the low sun can dazzle, and watch for cyclists and walkers without lights. In the village, a couple of restaurants stay open into the evening, and sitting on a terrace under the trees is a fine end to a day's ride.
Sleep, if you can, nearby, and wake early. Mist often hangs between the trunks at dawn, and a rider setting out from Barbizon at first light feels the whole forest holding its breath.