French Riviera Cycling — Col de Vence & Gourdon Loop

I rode this on a family-holiday day in July, leaving Cagnes-sur-Mer at 08:00 with everyone still asleep at the Airbnb. The Riviera in summer rewards the early start — by ten the temperature is already on its way to 30°C, and the climb up to Col de Vence has no real bail-out once you commit to it. Coffee at the kitchen counter, lights on, out the door before the sun got serious. A solo ride in the middle of a family holiday has its own particular satisfaction.

The first half hour out of Cagnes is transport — the road climbs steadily away from the coast through the early hinterland. Valbonne sits just off the route in this section, and if I rode it again I would build in twenty minutes for a coffee in its arcaded square — the village is small enough to walk in cleats and the morning light hits it well. Traffic was light that early, the roads were wide, and the drivers along the Riviera back-roads were patient with cyclists. That improved my mood. Past Valbonne the climbing started in earnest, winding up through pine and the occasional opening where the Mediterranean dropped away to the right.

Gourdon arrives high — a clifftop village with the kind of position that makes you slow down before you stop. I parked the bike against a wall and bought coffee at one of the small outdoor restaurants by the edge. Tight cobbled lanes, a few early tourists, more cyclists than I expected for the hour. I refilled both bidons at the village tap — last reliable water for the next stretch — and let the legs cool while looking down at the Riviera spread out below. From Gourdon the road descends before the real climbing of the day begins.

Col de Vence from this side is the long approach — around 11 km at a moderate average, but the averages lie. The lower section runs through tree cover that mattered in the heat, and I held a quiet pace because the road tilts up properly in the last kilometres. The final ramps are the part you remember: shorter, steeper, exposed when the trees thin. At the top, the view does not point toward the coast but inland and across — Coursegoules sits in the fold of the mountain opposite the road, a village built into a fjord-like cleft. By that point I was the warmest I had been all morning, and grateful that the next thirty minutes were downhill.

The descent to Vence is more pleasant than technical. Open sweeping bends in the upper sections with views down the valley, then closer turns lower down as the road drops into the town. I stopped at a café in the old quarter and ate a baguette with cheese and ham, sitting in the shade for longer than I had planned. The medieval streets were already busy by then. The last thirty kilometres back to Cagnes were transport — traffic had built through the morning, but the drivers stayed patient and the roads were wide enough. I was thinking about the swimming pool at the Airbnb by the time I reached the coast.

In the pool by lunchtime, back to family duties by the afternoon. It was one of those rides that decided me on coming back to the area. Col de Vence has been on the list every time since.