Golfe Juan to Sisteron on the Route Napoleon · back a different way, via Verdon Gorge Grand Day
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A 161 km one-way ride from near Vallauris, about 2 h 37 of riding. It goes by way of Grasse, Castellane and Digne les Bains. The highest point is about 1,450 m. It suits an unhurried touring pace.
Napoleon came ashore here. On 1 March 1815 he landed at Golfe-Juan with around a thousand men after escaping from Elba, and this beach, now a yacht harbour and a row of seafront restaurants, is where the Hundred Days began. From here he set off up through Grasse, Castellane, Digne, Sisteron, Gap and Grenoble, on a route that became the Route Napoléon and is still marked with little eagle signs along the way.
The bay is a calm and rather sheltered curve between Antibes to the east and Cannes to the west, with the Lérins islands visible off the coast. Vallauris, only two kilometres inland, is the pottery town where Picasso worked after the war, and the shops and workshops still sell ceramics, though quality varies. The coast road is usually congested, especially in July and August, and you should plan to be out of the Riviera by mid-morning. Early starts are not just advice here, they are the whole difference between a pleasant day and a long crawl through built-up areas.
Once you turn north and begin to climb, the air changes. Olive groves and pines give way to dry limestone hills, and the road becomes the familiar sequence of bends and steady gradients that make the Route Napoléon a riders' favourite. Surfaces are generally good, but gravel and loose chippings can collect in the corners after storms, and the traffic of motorhomes and holiday cars can slow things down on summer weekends.
Fuel is no problem in the first hour. Vallauris, Antibes and Le Cannet are all large towns with plenty of stations, and it is wise to fill up before climbing into the hills, where villages are small and stations less frequent. The seafront at Golfe-Juan has cafes and seafood restaurants if you want a proper breakfast, though prices reflect the view, and a bakery in Vallauris will serve you better if you are watching the budget.
Take a minute at the water's edge before you leave. A plaque and a small monument mark the landing, and the sea here, flat and blue in the early light, is a good reminder of why the road ahead was built.
Grasse smells of something before you can see it. The old perfume capital of France climbs a steep limestone hillside about a dozen kilometres from the Mediterranean, high enough above Cannes to catch a cooler, more mountain air, and for generations the fields of jasmine, rose and tuberose on the terraces around the town fed its distilleries. Perfume came here from the leather trade: glovemakers in the seventeenth century began scenting their gloves, and the business outgrew the leather. Today the town still has big perfume houses and a handful of working fields, and in May the rose harvest and in late summer the jasmine are the times to be around.
For a rider, Grasse is where the sea-level traffic and the real hills meet. A town of nearly fifty thousand people, it has ample petrol, supermarkets, bakeries and cafés, and it makes a sensible stop before heading up toward the Gorges du Verdon or down to the coast. The old centre is a knot of steep one-way lanes, steps, and tall ochre houses with shutters that peel in the sun, and driving through it on a big bike is more of an adventure than anyone needs; leave the machine at the edge and walk up to the Place aux Aires and the cathedral.
The roads around are another matter. Heading north on the D-roads toward the plateau, you climb into the Préalpes de Grasse, where the corners tighten, the pines thicken, and the air smells of thyme and dry earth. The surface is generally decent but narrow, with plenty of blind bends, cyclists in the early morning, and walkers' cars parked on the verges at weekends.
It is worth knowing that summer here is hot and the dust-dry hills are a fire risk, so some forest roads close on bad days. In winter the high ground can be icy even when the coast is warm, and the cold is sharper than you expect from the postcard. In spring the light is soft and the hillside terraces go quiet green.
Pick a table in the sun on one of the squares, get the tank topped up before the hills, and try a socca or a pissaladière if the bakery has them; both are Provençal ways of making a good lunch from almost nothing.
Castellane sits at the bottom of a rock, and the rock is the point. The town, at a little over seven hundred metres in the valley of the Verdon, is overlooked by a limestone crag nearly two hundred metres high, with a small chapel on top, Notre-Dame du Roc, which has been a pilgrimage site for centuries. A steep path climbs to it in about half an hour, and the view over the town's red roofs, the river and the surrounding mountains is superb. The town itself is small, with about sixteen hundred people, but it feels bigger in summer, when visitors fill the cafés.
Napoleon passed through here on 2 March 1815, on his march from the coast at Golfe-Juan to Paris, and the town claims him as a guest. The road he took, now the N85, is called the Route Napoléon and is marked by little eagle signs. It is one of the great motorcycling roads of France, mostly smooth and well engineered, with long bends and fine views, and it is busy with riders in summer. Castellane, at its midpoint between the coast and Digne, is the natural place to stop.
The Gorges du Verdon begin a few kilometres to the west, a canyon of extraordinary beauty, with cliffs of up to seven hundred metres and a river of turquoise water. The roads that run along its rim are narrow and exciting, with tight bends and long drops, and they are best ridden in the early morning, before the crowds arrive. Lake Sainte-Croix, at the western end, has beaches and boats.
Fuel is available in Castellane, which has several stations, and it is wise to fill the tank here before heading into the mountains. Food is Provençal, with a good selection of restaurants and cafés around the main square, and a market on Wednesday and Saturday mornings. The town is busy in July and August, and quieter in spring and autumn, when the light is soft and the roads are almost empty. Nights are cool at this altitude, even in summer.
Digne-les-Bains is a town of nineteen thousand people at the heart of the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence, a place with an unusual mixture of attractions. It lies in a wide valley at the meeting of several rivers, surrounded by mountains, and its hot springs have drawn visitors since Roman times. The thermal baths are still open. The town is the capital of lavender country, and each August the Corso de la Lavande fills the streets with floats decorated with the flowers. The scent of lavender is everywhere in summer, from the fields that cover the plateaus around.
Digne's literary fame comes from Victor Hugo, who set the opening of Les Misérables here. The kindly bishop Myriel, who gives shelter and silver candlesticks to Jean Valjean, was modelled on a real bishop of Digne, and the town is proud of the association. The explorer and writer Alexandra David-Néel, the first European woman to reach Lhasa, spent her last decades here and died in 1969 at the age of one hundred, and her house is a museum of Tibetan art. The philosopher and astronomer Pierre Gassendi was born in a village nearby.
The geology is remarkable. The hills around Digne are full of fossils, and a slab of rock a few kilometres from town, covered with hundreds of giant ammonites, is one of the best sights of the region. The surrounding area, the Haute-Provence geological reserve, is one of the largest in Europe, and it has been recognised by UNESCO as a geopark. The Train des Pignes, the narrow-gauge railway to Nice, begins its journey here.
As the end of the Route Napoléon's ride, Digne is a good place to spend the night, with hotels, restaurants and shops in plenty, and all the fuel you might need. Napoleon stopped here on 4 March 1815, and the route continues north to Sisteron and Gap. The roads around the town are excellent for riding, with lovely scenery and little traffic outside the summer. Summer is hot and bright, and winter can bring snow to the heights. Spring and autumn are the best seasons.
Sisteron is the gate of Provence, a town of seven and a half thousand on the Durance river, where the valley pinches into a narrow gap, the Clue de Sisteron, between two walls of tilted limestone. The great citadel, a fortress on the rock above the town, has watched over the passage since the Middle Ages, and the present walls date largely from the sixteenth century. Napoleon passed through on 5 March 1815, on his way from the Riviera to Grenoble, and the Route Napoléon is marked by signs and eagle plaques along the road, from here to the north.
The town clings to the hillside, with narrow lanes called andrônes running between tall houses, and a Romanesque cathedral, Notre-Dame-des-Pommiers, stands at the foot of the old town. The air has a clear, dry quality, and the light is a sign that you have arrived in the south: the town claims some three hundred days of sun a year. Lamb from Sisteron has a quality label and appears on every menu, roasted with herbs, and the lavender and honey sold in the shops come from the plateaus nearby.
Fuel and food are easy here, which makes it a natural stop on the Route Napoléon. The road north from Sisteron, the N85, climbs through the Gap country and the Col Bayard, with long, open bends and distant views of the Écrins, and there are splendid sections between Sisteron and Grenoble where the road passes lakes and gorges. Traffic can be heavy on summer weekends, and lorries are common on the main sections, but the quality of the road and the scenery make it worthwhile.
Parking for bikes is possible near the foot of the citadel, and the climb up the path to the fortress takes about twenty minutes, with a good view over the Durance. The weather is bright but the wind in the valley, the mistral's cousin, can be strong, particularly in spring, so be aware of gusts. Summer is hot, and in winter the high roads may be icy. Take water and sun protection, and enjoy the smell of thyme and lavender along the way.
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