Flow Vélo 1: First Spring Ride

La Flow Vélo from Cognac to Dompierre-sur-Charente (nearly) and back:

The sun cast its springtime rays into the garage and woke my sleeping bike from its winter hibernation. To be honest, it wasn’t a true hibernation because I’ve been taking it out almost daily since January, feeding it a few kilometres at a time so that it doesn’t forget how to work.

But cycling 8km a day as a form of transport hardly counts as a proper outing to my ambitious steed. Spring beckoned and, before I knew it, my bike was pawing the ground, eager to make the most of the splendid weather. How could I refuse?

So off we set, my long-suffering husband and I, with a picnic, our hammocks and my 52-blade Swiss Army Knife: you never know what might happen when you venture into the wilds of the Charente. I wasn’t particularly worried, though, because my husband remembered to take his compass. It has saved us from many a dark ending in the past.

The objective of the day was not to set an objective. This seemed perfectly reasonable, given our experience of being ourselves on our bikes (as described in my cycling series Doorstep Cycling and Abandoned Parent Training). As long as we could stop every time we saw something interesting, and that I could fit an ice-cream break into the journey, it would be pleasant.

Our chosen route was the cycleway known as the ‘Flow Vélo‘, which follows the course of the River Charente downstream to the sea. I packed my bikini, of course: the sea is a mere 108 km from home. Ice-cream sellers proliferate there.

The 290km Flow Vélo cycleway joins Nontron in the Dordogne to Fouras and Aix island at the mouth of the River Charente. We actually discovered the Dordogne part of the Flow Vélo in 2020 when we cycled from St.Pardoux-la-Rivière to St.Jean-de-Côle and Thiviers, as I mentioned in my blog post Teas and Trees.

But enough of all this waffling and on with the action. After a hasty pumping up of tyres, we cycled through Cognac, admiring the magnolia and cherry blossom and the trees coming into leaf. The first challenge was to discern which side of the river we were supposed to cycle along. We couldn’t find any Flow Vélo signs and the route details on the website page had faded from my memory. So we trusted our instincts and cycled downstream along the Hennessy dock, past Cognac’s port and towards the village of Merpins.

The pretty, shaded path ran directly beside the river and then turned inland to join a grit track. This continued for several kilometres parallel to the Cognac-Merpins road, which was hidden behind a promontory of back gardens. On the right lay the fields and woods of the flood plain, with, unfortunately, no view of the river.

Ideal for runners, dog walkers and cyclists, the track had plenty of shade, with the added bonus of birdsong – and frog-song when we passed a pond. We even saw a man dragging a canoe-on-wheels, though the track was a couple of hundred metres from the river. I hope he hadn’t stolen it from one of those fascinating back gardens.

The track ended at the old centre of Merpins, where we discovered the cobbled Cocuron hump-backed bridge, built in 1777. The stones that sit inside the parapets were put there to prevent carriage wheels from rubbing against the parapets and damaging them. I love the way grass has grown between the cobbles.

After the bridge, we crossed the River Né and brushed the outskirts of Salignac-sur-Charente. There were more Flow Vélo signs now and it was easy to follow the route along winding tracks running through fields lined with ditches full of irises. At one point we saw a stork’s nest with a baby stork inside and spotted one parent soaring through the skies in search of food.

The river, however, eluded us until we arrived at the Port du Lys, which is about 9km from Cognac. This is a beautiful spot beside the river, with picnic tables and a barbecue. In the summer, a riverside guinguette sets up here and we love to lie in a hammock or sit beside the water and enjoy a beer and a meal. It’s run by the association Utopy – a ‘university of laziness’, to quote its website.

The track after the Port du Lys led across ‘La Grande Prairie’, an area we didn’t enjoy as much. It was a flat, open, flood plain of agricultural monoculture: sunflowers, by the look of the dried husks littering the verges. It was windy here, and in the summer there would be no shade.

After the Grande Prairie we were back on lanes and more interesting tracks, some of which ran alongside the river. The Charente had only a few trees on its banks here, which took away much of the charm that seduced us during our cycling trip upstream of Cognac in 2019.

Things improved at La Fosse – perhaps because we remembered that a friend lived there, so we stopped for a drink and a chat. Dropping in on friends is just one of the many advantages of doorstep cycling.

From La Fosse, a little track took us along the railway line and close to the village of Rouffiac. By now, we were flagging a little. We promised ourselves an ice cream at the village of Dompierre-sur-Charente, which was on the far bank and could no doubt be reached via a bridge. Meanwhile, we ate our picnic, supplemented by chocolate éclairs from the best patissier in Cognac (in my opinion).

After a siesta in our hammocks, we set off again, happy to find ourselves on a smooth tarmac lane, ideal for rollerblading. This road took us to Les Clapotis, another guinguette, which looked rather different in the winter without the marquees and bar. Luckily, there were more trees here, making it an enchanting place for a rest.

The Flow Vélo signs pointed us inland again, away from the river. But we were curious to see where the lane beyond Les Clapotis went, especially as it ran along the river and we planned to return with our rollerblades. Might it be a short cut to an ice-cream?

A few hundred metres later, the road led into the river. Yes, into the river! On the opposite bank we could see the village of Dompierre-sur-Charente. It looked like a pretty place to explore, and I was sure there would be at least one ice-cream seller there. But there was no bridge and no sign of the ‘bac à chaîne’ (chain-operated ferry boat) to carry us across. There wasn’t even a chain.

It was lucky I hadn’t set my heart on the objective of reaching Dompierre (or on enjoying an ice cream); otherwise I’d have been disappointed by the lack of boat. I later learnt that the ferry only operates from 15 June to 15 September, 10am-1pm and 2-7pm. It’s free and you can learn all about its history (in French) here.

We were now 25km from home. Although I felt motivated to carry on along the Flow Vélo – with a short detour to Dompierre as soon as we found a bridge – my husband reminded me that we had to cycle all the way back.

Promising ourselves that we’d return soon for an ice-cream the next section of the Flow Vélo, we turned around.

We lost ourselves once or twice but didn’t have to resort to either the compass or my Swiss Army Knife. Eventually, we arrived home saddlesore but happy with our five-hour excursion.