Montluel is the kind of small French town that most people only see as a sign on the A42, which is a shame. It climbs a slope above the little River Sereine, on the escarpment that the locals call the Côtière, the step where the Rhône plain to the south rises up onto the plateau of the Dombes. For centuries this was border country: Montluel belonged to the House of Savoy and only became French with the Treaty of Lyon in 1601, and the old centre still has the narrow, defensive feel of a frontier town.
For a rider leaving Lyon in the early morning, the interest lies just north. Climb out of town and the land flattens into the Dombes, a plateau scattered with hundreds of shallow fish ponds dug by monks and landowners since the Middle Ages. The roads are narrow and straight-ish, linked by right-angle bends at farm corners, and at dawn mist lies on the water and herons stand in the reeds. Carp and pike from these ponds still end up on local menus, and frogs' legs are a regional pride.
The surface is generally good, but watch for tractors, mud at field entrances and the odd cyclist on the quiet departmental roads. The plain south of Montluel, by contrast, is industrial and busy, with lorries heading for the motorway junctions, so it is best treated as a transit.
Montluel itself has fuel, bakeries and cafés, and the larger retail zones along the main road have stations open long hours. Topping up here makes sense before heading into the Dombes or towards the Beaujolais hills, where villages are small and pumps scarcer. On a warm day, a coffee in the old town square and a look at the church tower above the rooftops makes a calm start before the ride proper begins.