Cycling the Atlantic Coast

Hello and welcome to the latest blog from The Olivia Rose Diaries on March 8^th 2025.

This blog follows our recent cycle trip along a stretch of the Atlantic coastline, beginning at Hendaye and ending at the Bassin d’Arcachon. We covered a distance of just under 350 kilometres over 7 days, parts of it quite hilly, others quite flat. One of the reasons this route appealed to us was that it offered a variety of landscapes; cliffs and vast sandy beaches, rolling forests and sand dunes, bustling seaside resorts and peaceful inland lakes. As I hope you will see from the diary below it more than lived up to expectations.

Day 1 Friday 28^th Feb. From Le Shack to Guéthary 57.5 km/500m altitude gain

I’ve always said that it is important to at least begin a trip with good weather, a good omen for the journey. Freezing fog doesn’t exactly fit that category but once you commit to a start date there is no going back and we had a train to catch. We had a two-hour cycle ride ahead of us, with temperatures barely above freezing, so we took a deep breath and set off into the mist.

The world shrinks when you’re cycling through fog and sounds become muffled. Everything feels damp, with water dripping off the end of my helmet, collecting on the front of my trousers and slowly seeping through. I looked at Michael and could even see tiny droplets of water on his eyelashes. Our bodies stayed warm with the physical effort of pedalling but our hands soon got very cold, painfully so, despite our gloves.

We boarded the train to find the dedicated bike spaces had been completely taken over by suitcases, necessitating a hasty re-arrangement by Michael so we could get the bikes on.  The train announcements came through in Spanish as we were so close to the border, as well as French and English, and I could feel that particular thrill of anticipation that comes as a journey begins.

Three hours later we disembarked at Hendaye, followed by another 20km cycling to our Airbnb at Guéthary and an evening stroll as the sun set.

Day 2 Sat March 1^st Biarritz and Bayonne to Cap Breton 47km 200m altitude

A frosty start as we made our way through the well-to-do conurbations of Biarritz and Bayonne. A nosy look in an estate agents window put things in context – you need several million euros to buy a property here, and many of them are second homes. Without doubt it’s a playground for the mega-wealthy, but it’s also a playground for the not-so-wealthy, a rite of passage for young surfers addicted to the adrenalin rush as they pit themselves against the power of the waves that are a feature of this wild coastline.  We watched them paddling out to get clear of the breakers, patiently waiting for the right wave. It took them ages, all for literally a few seconds of surfing.

Day 3 Sunday March 2^nd 81km 200m altitude gain Cap Breton to Mimazan

Even colder this morning! So many layers on that I can hardly peddle and yet the chill got right through to my bones. A dedicated cycle track through the pine forests of the Landes region today and a very different landscape, although the coast was never far away.

Cycling was more relaxed here without the towns and busy traffic to contend with. These forests stretch on endlessly but I found the repetitive nature soothing rather than monotonous. As I settled into an easy rhythm my mind emptied itself of practical matters and wandered down routes less travelled. Out of nowhere old memories of my childhood and my mother resurfaced, so much of ourselves that we forget in our everyday lives. She died over twenty years ago, too young, and it was wonderful to remember her and how much we used to laugh together.

We diverted back to the coast for a picnic lunch, almost the only people in a summer holiday resort village that was now a ghost town.

We passed through campsites so large that they were effectively estates, wooden static caravans, row after row, placed so closely together that you could have reached your arm out of a window and shaken your neighbour’s hand, or perhaps waved a fist at him if he was making too much noise. In high season this whole coastline would be teeming with people, the beaches crowded, the restaurants packed, the cycle lanes a nightmare. We remarked on this to our bnb owner the previous night and she said that it was lovely in the winter months but ‘infernal‘ in summer. No translation necessary.

Day 4 Monday March 3^rd Mimizan to Biscarosse 48 km

Moving slightly inland today and cycling around Lake Biscarosse. With only 48km to do it should have been an easier day but a head wind blew up and that always makes for hard going.

Our evening accommodation was deep in the forest, a wooden cabin, home-from-home. Nicely done, but not as cosy as our own home – but then, how could it be? (not at all biased).

Day 5 Tuesday 4^th March Biscarosse to Arcachon 52.3 km

A bit grey and drizzly today, a sombre atmosphere that seemed fitting as we cycled through the devastation of the forest fires that ravaged this area in 2022. The route was gently undulating, and with each rise and fall yet more of this blasted and blackened landscape spread out before us, a funeral pyre that stretched to the horizon. After two years it was still so barren that it was hard to imagine that it could ever recover. I have experienced a wild fire when we lived in Wales, tiny in comparison to this, but still I remember that primal fear, can picture how fire spits and crackles and hungry flames glow blood-red and orange. What happened here in France was on a scale outside of my imagination.

Cycling into Arcachon was like entering a different world. What a delight and our favourite town of the trip. So elegant, so gracious and our bnb also gladdened our souls as the owner had taken the effort to make it feel more homely than most: books on shelves and paintings on walls, a comfortable bed and an excellent shower that went a long way to easing our tired muscles.

Day 6 Wednesday 5^th March Arcachon and Dune de Pilat 20km

We are learning on these cycling trips that by the fifth day our buttocks are beginning to actively dislike the seat on which they spend so much of their time and our thigh muscles are feeling tired earlier each day. Stamina is running out. So today we left the bikes at the bnb and took the bus to the Dune de Pilat. This amazing site is the largest sand dune in Europe, and it also gives a truly beautiful view of the bay of Arcachon. It’s a major tourist attraction but at this time of year you only have to walk a short distance to find a spot away from the crowds.

Rather than wait for a bus to take us back into town, we walked four km to our lunch spot, not exactly what was supposed to happen on a rest day, but it gave me a chance to paddle in the freezing water, and we treated ourselves to a ‘plat du jour’ at a brasserie, rather than our usual sandwich, so it rounded our trip off very nicely.

Then it was a case of catching the bus back the rest of the way into town and cycling 20km to the train station for a late afternoon trip back to Tarbes, arriving at 9pm and straight to our final bnb for the night.

Day 7 Thursday March 7^th 30km back to home

Breakfast on the road is tea/coffee and a chocolatine at the closest boulangerie we can find. We are now experts as to what makes for a really good chocolatine – just slightly warm, light pastry and the chocolate positioned just so, two long strips of it slightly apart so that you get the maximum chocolate buzz to energize you for the day.

As we fortified ourselves for this last short leg we discussed our trip. We both agreed it had been a great experience and that we had been so lucky to have blue skies almost every day. Sometimes on holiday it can take a day or two to unwind but one of the benefits of cycling is that you very quickly make that transition and there is nothing better than settling into a steady pace and watching the world pass by.

However, as we sat and watched the rush hour traffic crawling past our pavement café, we knew we were ready for the peace and quiet of home, and that acknowledgement seemed a positive thing. In times past I have not wanted to return to ordinary life, but always to keep moving. It would appear I have changed. I don’t know whether it is a question of getting older, and supposedly wiser and more aware of what matters to me, or whether I have just found somewhere I am content to be. Perhaps a bit of both. I also understand that I still need to leave, to explore something different, in order to appreciate more fully what I have in my everyday life, and I don’t think that will change. It’s part of human nature, affects each of us to a greater or lesser extent, and might strike a chord with many of you.

As I write this blog, comfortably settled in the caravan where I do my writing, all is well. Spot turned up straight away and demanded lunch upon our return. The daffodils are out, the blossom on the plum tree is a sight to be seen and the sun is shining. And I am looking forward to a night back in my own bed!

See you soon.

MJ