Before the motorways, there was the Nationale 7. The road ran from Paris to the Riviera, through Fontainebleau, Nemours, Lyon and Avignon, and in the years after the war it became the route des vacances, the holiday road, jammed in August with families, caravans and overloaded Citroëns heading south. Charles Trenet immortalised it in a cheerful song in 1955, and for a generation of French people the very name conjures up long drives, picnics at the roadside and the smell of hot tarmac.
Nemours was one of the towns the old road passed through, and the turn at this point follows the old line, now partly bypassed by the A6 motorway, with the traffic of lorries and cars reduced to a murmur. You can still see traces of the past: old garages, faded signs on buildings and the odd roadside inn that once served weary travellers. The road is wide and straight in places, and winds gently in others, following the contours of the Loing valley.
The riding is a pleasure of a nostalgic kind. The surface is generally good, the corners are wide and easy, and the road has a certain quiet dignity. A motorcycle on the old route feels like the right tool, slow enough to take in the details, fast enough to cover ground. Speed limits are strictly enforced in the towns, and you should watch for cameras, since this is a busy road for local traffic.
The country on either side is a mixture of sandstone ridges, pine and oak woods and fields, with the forest of Fontainebleau to the north and the hills of the Gâtinais to the south. At about sixty metres above sea level, the valley is low and often misty in the early morning, and in summer it can be hot and humid.
Nemours has fuel in plenty, and the neighbouring town of Saint-Pierre-lès-Nemours has more, as well as a few bakeries and cafes. A coffee on the roadside, with the sound of passing traffic, is the best way to feel the history of the road.