A 147 km loop from Mantes-la-Jolie
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Limestone villages and river bends without airport traffic. A 147 km loop that starts and ends near Mantes-la-Jolie, about 2 h 32 of riding. On the way it passes La Roche-Guyon, Vétheuil Seine bends and Auvers-sur-Oise. It keeps to quiet secondary roads.
Mantes-la-Jolie carries its pretty name with a straight face, though the town of forty-four thousand is mostly practical rather than pretty, a Seine-side workhorse about fifty kilometres downstream from Paris. Tradition says Henri IV gave it the nickname, and the one thing that truly justifies it is the collegiate church of Notre-Dame, a Gothic building of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries whose façade and proportions echo the cathedral in Paris so closely that architects call it a rehearsal for it. Walk in and the light through the nave is worth five minutes even if you are in leathers.
For a rider, Mantes is the natural place to gather yourself at either end of a day. Fuel is easy, since a town this size has stations all around the ring roads, as well as supermarkets, bakeries and a station with trains to Paris Saint-Lazare if you need to bail out. Across the river lies Limay, with an old humpbacked bridge and a church on the slope, and the cluster of Mantes-la-Ville beside it. The two bridges over the Seine are bottlenecks at rush hour, so a finish here at six in the evening can cost you twenty minutes in a queue.
What makes the area good for riding is what lies on either side. North of the river the Vexin plateau rolls away in wheat and rapeseed, cut by small valleys and strung with villages of pale limestone, while downstream the Seine swings through long loops under white chalk cliffs. The roads that drop to the water tend to be narrow, with blind bends and walls, and they are at their best early on a weekday when the river mist has not yet lifted. Surface quality is generally fine, though farm traffic leaves mud on the corners at harvest and in wet weather.
If you have time at the end of the ride, sit by the Seine and watch the barges. Commercial traffic still moves grain, sand and containers along this stretch, and the slow rhythm of the water is a good way to let the engine cool and the day settle. The cobbled lanes of the old centre are worth a slow walk, with the bike parked near the church.
La Roche-Guyon is squeezed between the Seine and a wall of chalk, and the village has the look of a place that has been fitted into the only space available. The château, one of the oldest in the area, backs straight into the cliff, with rooms and a stairway hollowed from the rock, and a medieval keep on the crest above is linked to it by a long covered passage. For centuries, it belonged to the La Rochefoucauld family, whose most famous member, the seventeenth-century moralist, wrote his sharp little maxims about human vanity, and the family still has links to the house.
The château has a darker chapter too. In the spring of 1944, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel made it his headquarters while he prepared the German coastal defences against an Allied landing, and the caves in the cliff behind were used as shelters and offices. After the Normandy landings, the Allies advanced quickly along the Seine, and the village was liberated in August. Today the château is open to visitors, with a fine kitchen garden and a museum of the 1944 episode, and the village has been named one of the most beautiful in France.
It is also a gateway to the Vexin Français regional park, a plateau of wheat fields, orchards and small stone villages above the river. The hills nearby produce apples and cider, and local farms sell fruit and honey from roadside stalls. The roads here are some of the best in the region for relaxed riding, with long views, smooth tarmac and a pleasing rhythm of villages, though the D913 along the river is narrow and can be crowded on sunny weekends. The village streets are tight, so park near the river and walk the last part.
Fuel is not available in La Roche-Guyon itself, so use Mantes-la-Jolie to the west, a larger town with several stations. A café on the main street serves coffee and pastries, and several restaurants offer lunch. Try a slice of tarte aux pommes with a cup of strong coffee, and sit watching the barges slide past on the Seine, as they have for centuries. The village is calm outside July and August, and the cliff glows in low sun.
Claude Monet moved to Vétheuil in 1878, and the village has never forgotten it. He was poor, his wife Camille was ill and the family shared a house with another household, but the Seine here, curving gently under the chalk bluff, gave him a subject that he painted again and again: the church on its hill seen across the water, the river in winter ice, the poplars and the light on the islands. Camille died in 1879 and was buried in the village cemetery, and Monet left in 1881, settling at Giverny two years later, where he would spend the rest of his life.
The photo spot is right for that view. From the road on the opposite bank, near Lavacourt, you look across the Seine to the village, with the Gothic and Renaissance church of Notre-Dame rising above the roofs, a view that has changed surprisingly little in a century and a half. The best light is early in the morning, with mist on the water, or in the late afternoon, when the sun turns the stone to honey.
The river here loops in a series of broad meanders, bounded by chalk cliffs and wooded slopes, and the countryside is a mix of fields, orchards and small villages. The Vexin plateau rises behind, and the road along the river is quiet, winding and pleasant. The surface is generally good, with some patches, and traffic is light outside weekends, when visitors come to see the village and the Monet sites.
The nearest towns of any size are Limay and Mantes, where you will find fuel, supermarkets and cafes, while Vétheuil itself has a bakery, a bar and a couple of restaurants. The village is small and steep, with narrow streets, so parking is limited and a walk to the church is a good idea.
In the cooler months, mist often lies on the river until mid-morning, and the damp air can make the road slippery, particularly on the lower bends. Bring a layer, a camera and a little patience.
Few villages have as much weight on their shoulders as Auvers-sur-Oise. Vincent van Gogh came here in May 1890, lodged in a small room above an inn, and in the seventy days he stayed painted around seventy canvases, among them the church, the wheat fields and the town hall bedecked with flags, before he died of a gunshot wound in July. He and his brother Theo lie side by side in the little cemetery above the fields, under a blanket of ivy. The room he rented at the Auberge Ravoux is preserved almost bare, and it is more moving for being so small.
He was not alone in loving this valley. Daubigny settled here before him and painted from a floating studio on the Oise, and Pissarro, Cézanne and Corot all worked in and around the village. At roughly seventy metres above sea level, the Oise here runs wide and slow between poplars, with low chalk hills behind, and you can understand why painters liked the light. The village has about seven thousand people, enough for a couple of bakeries, restaurants and cafés, which in season fill with day trippers who come to follow the painter's footsteps.
For a rider it is a food stop, and a good one if you arrive before the coach parties or after they leave. The roads in are pleasant, running along the river and climbing a short way to the plateau, with bends that call for attention rather than speed. Traffic can be heavy at weekends in summer, with cars searching for parking, and the lanes around the church are narrow and cobbled in places. Leave the bike on the edge and walk up.
Climb to the church and the cemetery behind it, and the wheat fields that Van Gogh painted stretch out beyond the wall. In June they are green and gold, and the crows that wheel above them are a quiet allusion to his last great painting. Take an hour if you can. The village sells postcards and prints, but the best souvenir is the view from the top of the hill, with the valley and a distant line of trees on a clear afternoon.
Back at Mantes-la-Jolie. That is the ride.