The Val Durance is located in the south-east of France, between the Dauphiné and the Cottian Alps. Some of the passes are well-known from various Tour de France broadcasts. But hardly anyone knows about the magnificent trails and rugged descents over kilometers of scree slopes in this remote area... So we set out to explore the Val Durance by mountain bike. After the sun broke through the storm clouds, the huge scree slopes around us shone a bright white-grey. Deep below, the serpentines of the pass road wind their way through scree fields and brown meadows for the last few meters up to the 2361 m high Col d'Izoard. Erosion has created a stony sensation here from hard limestone. We are thrilled - and not just by the first-class trails! A small path leads through the middle of this sloping sea of broken limestone shards and demands all our riding skills. The ground seems to float and repeatedly causes the front or rear wheel to sink away, leaving you completely out of step. If a boulder starts to move, sometimes a small avalanche of rocks comes loose with a lot of banging. But it's still fun and after a long egg dance, we have solid ground under our tires again and can enjoy the magnificent view.
Val Durance
The area around the Val Durance, in the very south-east of France, impresses with its contrasts. Until now, we only knew this corner of the Alps from various Tour de France broadcasts. Our friend Stefan Neuhauer, who is a mountain guide and photographer, lives here and he invited us to his home to explore the remote area with him, which practically starts on his doorstep. And as Stefan shows us the highlights of his adopted home, we can hardly stop being amazed for the next few days.
The river Durance, which rises near Mont Genevrè in the Hautes-Alpes department, close to the Italian border, separates the Dauphiné from the Cottian Alps with its picturesque valley and thus two large and famous Alpine regions that are completely different. The gentle, grassy heights of the Briançonnais, which characterize the picture in the northwest, are replaced by the barren and rocky peaks of the Queyras, which plunge into deep gorges with spectacular slopes. In the middle altitudes, green plateaus and basins stretch out between the mountain flanks, which are repeatedly interrupted by larch and mixed forests. Due to the mild climate, the tree line here extends to well over 2000 m, so that the rocky peaks often look out directly from the dark green forest. Out of the valley, in the distance, the mountain ranges fade into the gentle haze of the Provence hills and the smell of the south hangs in the air: rosemary, thyme and other wild herbs line the small, undulating path before it becomes wooded and steeper again. We're on the descent from the Col d'Izoard and have already spent hours on the scree of the Casse Deserte. But it's not the pass road that takes us back down into the valley, which is world-famous among racing cyclists, but the small trails next to it. Relaxed cruising, spiced up with technical passages through tight bends or over a few boulders. There are a few steep climbs every now and then. Here you need to shift gears with foresight and pedal hard. Then over a small, sunlit saddle into a south-facing slope, where the trail winds its way down in countless hairpin bends. A cornering practice course par excellence. Some bends are so tight that they can only be negotiated by turning the rear wheel. Those who make it are loudly congratulated by the others. At the bottom, it flattens out and the trail is cut deeper into the meadow. You can really let it rip here. The terrain opens up and becomes more gentle and the narrow path turns into a forest road that leads us south into a wide valley. Gradually, we reach higher altitudes where farming is once again practiced. Haystacks stand out like silhouettes against the deep blue sky. The afternoon is already well advanced and the mountains glow reddish in the distance as we turn off onto another forest path near Souliers just after a small chapel. The path climbs gently along a slope before we settle down for a well-earned picnic on the shores of Lac Roue. The evening mountain peaks are reflected in the crystal-clear water between the water lilies. The cool evening breeze heralds the approach of autumn, but the ground still radiates the warmth of a summer's day. It would have been a perfect tour up to this point, but Stefan assures us that a real trail treat awaits us and urges us to continue quickly. We pass an armada of picnic tables and barbecue areas, which testify to the lake's popularity as a destination during the season, and enter a dark spruce forest. The approaching dusk has already arrived here and it takes a while for the eyes to adjust to the light conditions and make out the narrow hiking trail that winds its way between the black trunks. The muffled, springy coniferous forest floor becomes firmer and firmer and, as it hasn't rained for a long time, much dustier. We are increasingly bold as we speed around the now very long bends, leaving meter-high clouds of dust behind us in the forest. What Stefan shouts from behind is initially lost in the eagerness of the descent, but suddenly we see for ourselves what he meant and reach for the brakes in desperate need. The slope here suddenly drops almost vertically over a few rocky steps and our loamy, dusty race track has abruptly turned into a rocky, stepped serpentine path. That just went well! With cramped fingers and the smell of scuffed brake pads in our nostrils, we clatter down a small flight of steps at the very last light and end up on the large country road on which we cycle the last few kilometers out of the valley for a well-deserved after-work beer.
