Adventure in the Ardèche Gorge
“Keep paddling, sweetheart. You’ve got more control if you paddle through than if you just drift. Aim for the middle of the ‘V’ — and avoid the point of an ‘A’. That’s where the rocks hide.”
Sage advice, I thought, right up until the moment the river ignored me.
The canoe twisted like a leaf in the current, inexorably drawn toward the sharp ‘A’ where the flow split around a submerged rock. My daughter, sitting up front, dug her paddle into the water with all the determination of someone who doesn’t fancy being soaked. I did the same, but the bow swung too late.
There was a thump, a jolt, and then a spray of water. The canoe reared like a startled horse, skimming the rock before lurching sideways. In one motion, my teenage daughter was tipped unceremoniously into the river with a splash that sent her squealing. An instant later, I followed, dumped unceremoniously into the cold waters of the Ardèche.
Not the script I had in mind.
Baptism in the River
As I surfaced, sputtering and blinking river water from my eyes, a long-ago memory of a rafting trip in Sweden flickered through my mind. The instructor had said: “If you fall out, float on your back, feet downstream. Better a bruised shin than a split skull.”
Good advice, but largely wasted here. I stood up. The water barely reached my waist. My only injury was to my dignity.
Downstream, my daughter had managed to grab the canoe and was half-collapsed against it in fits of laughter. Her grin stretched ear to ear, water dripping off her nose.
“Nice steering, Dad,” she called, mock-serious. “I’ll never trust you to steer again.”
I clutched my paddle and waded after her, pretending to scowl. Inside, though, I was laughing with her. If nothing else, we’d broken the ice — quite literally.
Why the Ardèche?
Our adventure had actually started months before, when I was planning our summer holiday. I’d once driven the Corniche that skirts the the rim of the Ardèche Gorge and stopped at a viewpoint. From the cliff top, I had looked down 100 metres to a ribbon of dark green water glinting in the sun, speckled with dozens of colourful canoes. It was a mesmerising sight. I promised myself then: One day I’ll paddle that river.
This time, I wanted to share it with my daughter. She was old enough to handle the adventure, and I hoped the trip would give us not only an adrenaline rush but also memories to carry long after the summer was gone.
The Ardèche Gorge is 26 kilometres long and the deepest in the region. It’s a playground for adventurers, but it isn’t only for hardcore white-water thrill-seekers. The river has rapids — enough to keep things lively — but most of them are forgiving. Families paddle it every summer. And while it can be done in one long day, there are bivouac sites in the gorge if you want to stretch the trip over two or three days.
We were staying at Camping l’Ardechois, a riverside Eurocamp site in Vallon Pont d’Arc. Canoeing is the town’s lifeblood; outfitters line the streets, hiring out everything you need — boats, paddles, life jackets, waterproof tubs, and, crucially, a shuttle back from the end of the gorge. We went with Alpha Bateaux, recommended for their sturdy boats and English-speaking staff.
The evening before our descent, we tested ourselves on a short two-hour paddle upstream. It was the best decision we could have made. My daughter took to it like a duck to water. She manoeuvred her kayak with surprising skill, smirking at my slower turns. By the time we hauled our boats out, I knew she was more than ready.
Here are three tours you can book from GetYourGuide.com for trips down the gorge on the River Ardeche. They are affiliate links which means we get a small commission should you book through this website. This is at no extra cost to you and does not affect our editorial independence.
The Grand Descent
We started early, before the sun climbed too high and turned the gorge into a furnace. Canoes are best paddled with the cool of morning on your shoulders. Sunscreen was already smeared thick on our arms and noses — I’d been warned that the limestone walls reflect the light, magnifying the burn.
Our starting point was the magnificent Pont d’Arc, a natural limestone arch soaring 30 metres over the river. It’s both a geological wonder and a tourist magnet. We slid our canoe beneath its span, looking up in awe, while swimmers, inflatable rings, and flotillas of wobbly boats jostled around us. Then came the Charlemagne Rapids, our first test.
Eyes forward, paddles steady, and down we went. A jolt, a splash, and we were through. No capsizing. Not yet. Tourists sunning on the beach had to content themselves with other victims.
From there, the gorge closed in around us. At Les Trois Eaux, the river funnelled into a frothing chute — the first official rapid of the grand descent. My daughter whooped with delight as we plunged through, spray flying into our faces. From that moment, there was no turning back: it was 24 kilometres to the finish.
Life Inside the Gorge
The Ardèche Gorge is more than just rapids. Between the thrills, the river offers long stretches of calm, where we drifted side by side, necks craned to admire towering limestone walls sculpted by millennia of erosion. Some rocks were given names — Rocher de la Cathédrale, Dent Noire — though to us, most looked like the fanciful shapes of clouds, open to imagination.
Wildlife was everywhere. Lizards darted across sunlit rocks. Swallows skimmed low over the water, chasing insects. At one point, we stopped on a sandy beach for lunch, unpacking bread, cheese, and fruit from our waterproof barrel. As we bit into apples, a snake slid silently from a warm stone and slipped into the water. My daughter, wide-eyed, watched it swim with unexpected grace. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me there were snakes here,” she said.
The toughest rapid came at La Toupine de Gournier, where the river squeezed between two giant rocks before ricocheting against a sheer wall. You had to shoot the gap and swing hard right to avoid disaster. My daughter’s paddle dug in at just the right moment. We slewed sideways, dangerously close to the rock face. For a heartbeat, I thought we were finished. But then the current caught us and whisked us along the wall as if carrying us on its own momentum. We emerged laughing, exhilarated.
“That was epic!” she shouted.
The Final Stretch
After Rocher de la Cathédrale, the rapids eased. The last kilometres were gentler, giving us time to bask in the late afternoon sun. Goats grazed precariously on the cliffs above, their bleats echoing faintly. Swifts and swallows swooped around us, taking advantage of the cooling air.
As the gorge walls lowered, we knew the journey was ending. On the left bank, the medieval village of Aiguèze perched proudly on its rocky spur. Across the water lay the sandy beach of St Martin d’Ardèche, the official finish. Canoes littered the shore like stranded turtles, their paddlers sprawled on the sand in weary satisfaction.
We beached our boat, stretched our aching legs, and exchanged a look that said everything: pride, relief, and the knowledge we’d done something unforgettable together.
The bus ride back wound through golden-stone villages and fields of lavender. My daughter leaned her head against the window, her wet hair plastered to her cheek, a tired smile lingering. No phone, no distractions — just the quiet glow of shared adventure.
Dad Notes for Fellow Adventurers
Here are some tips I recommend to make the trip more enjoyable
Book early in July and August, especially for campsites with river access.
Test the waters first with a short paddle along a calmer stretch above the gorge — it’s a confidence booster.
Sunscreen and hats are non-negotiable; the limestone reflects both heat and light.
Waterproof tubs are worth it for clothes, lunch, and phones (though I’d argue the less screen time, the better). I kept my camera in one.
Expect to capsize at least once. Laugh it off — your kids certainly will.
Just Go With The Flow
We came to the Ardèche Gorge looking for adventure, and we found it in abundance: rapids, laughter, capsizes, snakes, and spectacular scenery. But more than that, we found time together — father and daughter, side by side in a canoe, learning to paddle with the current and sometimes against it.
In the Ardèche, as in life, the best memories are made when you just go with the flow.
