Milly-la-Forêt is a small town of just under five thousand people tucked at the western edge of the Fontainebleau sandstone country, at about seventy-five metres above the sea. The town's name tells you what it is: a settlement in a clearing of old forest, with the Gâtinais regional park around it. Its centre is built around a large wooden market hall dating back to the fifteenth century, with a vast timbered roof held on massive oak posts, and in the shade of this structure traders still sell vegetables and cheese. It is one of the finest surviving halles in the Île-de-France, and few visitors know it.
Milly has a long association with herbs. For centuries the surrounding sandy soils have been used to grow medicinal and aromatic plants, the so-called simples, and a fragrant landscape of mint, lavender and chamomile fields is part of the area's identity. The little chapel of Saint-Blaise-des-Simples, a mile or so from the centre, was decorated inside by the poet and artist Jean Cocteau in the early 1960s, and he is buried in the grounds. If you step inside you find delicate line drawings of herbs and flowers and a quiet that feels out of step with the busy world.
On the bike, Milly is a good place to wake up the day. The roads out of the town head into pine and oak forest, with the soft smell of resin on warm days and the odd grey boulder poking out of the heather. Tarmac is mostly smooth, bends are long and gentle, and traffic is light on weekdays but picks up on weekends, when climbers and walkers head for the forest. Not far away in the woods stands the Cyclop, a giant mirrored sculpture by Jean Tinguely and friends, which will make you think you have lost your mind if you come across it by accident.
For coffee and a croissant, the cafés on the market square are the natural choice, and the bakeries around it open early. Fuel is available in the town, so it makes a good place to fill up before going on. Take a seat under the old roof timbers, order a coffee, and look up. It is the kind of ceiling that reminds you how much skill went into everyday buildings before anyone worried about speed.