Cycling Channel to the Med, Day 1: Ouistreham to Bagnoles de l’Orne

This post recounts the first day of my English Channel to the Mediterranean cycle tour in France with Peak Tours in June 2025.

Prologue: Sword beach, Ouistreham

Today. Ouistreham is a peaceful place to land in France. But as I walked along the sand with the English Channel by my side, I marvelled at the stark contrast with the experience of the men who fought their way up this beach – immortalised as Sword beach – on 6 June 1944. I reflected on the individual stories told on a series of plaques along the beach walkway, such as fellow Welshman Tony Pengelly, featured in a photo above. These men were just a year or so older than my late father Bob, who joined the British Army himself some six months after D-Day on turning 18. However tough I found cycling from here to the Mediterranean, it would be nothing compared with the hell endured by that extraordinary generation of men and women of many nations as they liberated Europe over 80 years ago.

An easy start

Our long journey to the Mediterranean began at the fish market at Ouistreham, following the west bank of Caen canal to that city. As we set off I realised my Garmin was still set to kilometres following last weekend’s Bryan Chapman Memorial 600km audax ride in Wales. I switched back to miles, just to make it easier to cross reference the Peak Tours route directions in case of Garmin issues. This proved a smart move…

Just three miles into the ride, we came to Pegasus Bridge at Bénouville. British troops captured this critical crossing just 26 minutes into D-Day, a mere 90 minutes after taking off from Dorset in Horsa gliders, and hours before the landings on the Normandy beaches. The bridge that we saw was a 1990s replacement of similar design to the 1934 original, which is now in a nearby museum.

We didn’t have time for a coffee at Café Gondrée, whose wartime owners were active in the French resistance. I was once served by their daughter Arlette, who took over this historic institution after her parents died. She is now in her eighties. One of our party recalled meeting the legendary older Gondrée owners in the 1970s.

Our first navigational doubts came in Caen, but we reached a consensus and continued on the right route. Today’s city lacks the character of many historic cities across Normandy because of its near total destruction in the weeks after D-Day. The Allies hoped to capture Caen on that critical day, but its liberation came six brutal weeks later, at a bitter price: the loss of 30,000 Allied troops, 3,000 civilians as well as the loss of most of the historic city.

After we left the canal, we followed an old railway line south of Caen. This is now part of the Vélo Francette, a marked cycle route that wends its way to La Rochelle on the Atlantic. It reminded me of the Tâmega trail on my Portugal end to end tour in 2023. Some 18 miles after setting off, we had our first ‘brew stop’ near Amayé-sur-Orne. These morning and afternoon stops are a brilliant idea by Peak Tours, as I found on my first tour with them in 2019, Land’s End to John O’Groats. They guarantee you will be well fuelled for the remaining miles to lunch or your afternoon destination. (The Yorkshire Tea was popular – even in the heat of later days!)

It was fun weaving our way through the families enjoying their Saturday morning activities at Thury-Harcourt. It was here that I nearly came a cropper after misjudging my path between barriers across the trail. But all was well.

We were now following signs for Suisse Normande (Swiss Normandy). While Normandy is hardly mountainous, the name does confirm that it has its fair share of hills, which we’d be climbing after lunch at Clécy. We were briefly delayed by two moments of navigational uncertainty on either side of the bridge over the Orne. Once again, the route notes solved the riddle: ‘cross over the [river] bridge’ and turn left after ‘some recycling bins’ proved conclusive. It is curious how cycling satnav devices occasionally prompt such doubts compared with car navigational systems. You’d think our slower speeds would prove ample time to display the exact turns – or is it the fault of the GPX route files that we use?

Clécy

I’d been looking forward to seeing Clécy after staying here on two cycle tours in 1998. I stayed in the loft of an outhouse in the garden of a hotel on both occasions – which featured in a photo in a Normandy guide! We had a steep climb up to town from there. Only after we passed through this time after an enjoyable lunch at the Aux Rochers restaurant did I realise that my 1998 stop was on the other side of town, away from the river.

Now the climbing began. Unlike later in the tour, these were short if sharp ascents, but they came in quick succession. It was a pleasure to pause to take photos in Pont d’Ouilly, with its eponymous, handsome bridge over the Orne. Soon after, I overtook a few touring cyclists, and smiled when I saw a baguette poking out of one of their panniers. Over the coming weeks, we’d see many laden touring cyclists. I was once one of their number – see my account of a tour of Brittany in 1996 – but am glad to leave others to carry my luggage today.

As the miles passed after lunch, with one climb after another, I was dismayed to see my Garmin telling me that I’d only completed 700 of the 3,000 feet of climbing for the day. But then I looked closer, and realised that it was showing 700 metres of ascent. Changing the device’s measurement from kilometres to miles this morning obviously hadn’t switched ascent to feet. That meant far fewer hills remained to be conquered.

This called for a celebration. We stopped for a pastry at this wonderful pâtisserie in the village of Les Monts d’Andaine. It was an indulgence as we barely had five miles still to ride, but it was worth it. It was wonderful to find such a classy pâtisserie in a small French town.

Our destination, Bagnoles de l’Orne, was just as I remembered it from staying here in 1998: a rather elegant, small spa town with a small lake at its heart. The tranquility was slightly disturbed by some kind of festival taking place on the other side of the lake from our modern hotel.

This evening, we had our welcome dinner. Peak Tours usually holds these on the eve of the first day’s cycling, but as some prefer to join the Channel to the Med trip by overnight ferry the morning of departure they wait until the first evening on the road on this tour. So we’d already started to get to know each other by the time we sat down for drinks and dinner at Bagnoles. There was, however, a shadow over proceedings: we learned that one of our riders had been taken to hospital after an accident just after lunch. As a result, the guides were very busy supporting him. Sadly, he never rejoined the tour, but happily recovered from the crash.

Read Day 2: Bagnoles de l’Orne to La Flèche

The day’s stats

67.93 miles, 3,205 feet climbing, 5 hrs 12 mins cycling, average speed 13.1 mph.

D-Day remembered

Omaha beach, Normandy, France

Into the jaws of death: the Americans land, Omaha beach, 6 June 1944. Photo courtesy of the Nationals Archives & Records Administration, USA

The D-Day Normandy landings were awe-inspiring for countless reasons: the bravery of young men who risked everything. The sacrifice made by those boys a world away from their homes in America and Canada as well as Britain. The courage of French people resisting a brutal enemy to support their liberation. And the unimaginable scale of the assault on Hitler’s European fortress – one of the greatest feats of organisation as well as arms.

This week’s 70th anniversary commemoration of D-Day was humbling and inspiring. Not for the inevitable array of heads of state and government, but for the sight of hundreds of ageing veterans of Operation Overlord visiting the landing beaches for the last time. My generation can hardly imagine what they went through. Next time you’re fretting over a PowerPoint presentation or a cancelled train, think of Normandy 1944.

My mind went back to my mother-in-law Aline’s account of growing up in Sussex during the second world war. Here’s her graphic description of how she and her family found out that D-Day had begun:

“There appeared on the horizon day after day more and more objects; we didn’t know what they were. They covered the horizon as far as you could see, right the way along. And then one night the tugs were going – all night long you could hear them ‘woop-woop; woop-woop’. And my father, who used to go out about seven in the morning came back and said, “You’ll never believe it, they’ve all gone. And we found out later they were the Mulberry harbours.” These were extraordinary prefabricated harbours the size of Dover docks, built in Britain and towed at 5mph to Normandy.

Britain was known as the unsinkable aircraft carrier at this stage in the war because of the millions of troops of many nations stationed here ready for the great invasion. Aline talks about how she and her older sister were befriended by a Canadian solder who was part of the Commonwealth forces encamped near Bognor. Her sister nearly missed an 11 plus exam because a convoy of tanks was passing as she waited to cross to the exam hall. One tank stopped to let her across – stopping the whole convoy! Then one day they discovered the Canadian soldier and his comrades had gone, like the Mulberry harbours, across the channel to France.

Back in 1998, I got the ferry to Ouistreham (Sword beach) and cycled along the D-Day coast to Arromanches. As I freewheeled down the hill towards the town, I could see the remains of the Mulberry harbour in the bay. It was a bleak scene in the rain, but my discomfort was nothing to that experienced by the seasick liberators of 1944, wading ashore to deadly gunfire. I was sorry I didn’t have time to visit the excellent D-Day museum at Arromanches, with the story of the harbour that handled 4 million tonnes of supplies and 500,000 vehicles in the 10 months it was used.

D-Day echoes down the years. Nearly 40 years after the liberation of Europe began, the British carried out another audacious landing at San Carlos in the Falkland islands to begin the end of Argentina’s occupation of the islands. On Friday 21 May 1982 I listened to Radio 4’s PM programme’s account of the invasion. Growing up on memories of the second world war, I never imagined that Britain would once again be sending men to war in assault ships. The echoes of the 1944 operation were evident – just weeks after Britain had sunk Argentina’s Pearl Harbor survivor, General Belgrano. The war may have been controversial, but the courage displayed was timeless.

Weymouth D-Day memorial

D-Day remembered: Weymouth, Dorset

Back to 1944. England’s south coast was the launchpad for the invasion. Weymouth in Dorset was a key location, and the American rangers who suffered such a toll scaling the cliffs of Normandy embarked here. In 2010 I was moved to see a British veteran paying tribute in Weymouth to those who died in the D-Day ‘Tiger’ training exercise in Lyme Bay.

Weymouth Lyme Bay D-Day memorial

Paying tribute to the fallen

You can see a US tank recovered from the Tiger disaster at Slapton Sands in Devon.

We all owe a huge debt to the men and women who risked everything for our freedom.