I had come down to Beaune in Burgundy on my way to Switzerland for the main part of my summer holiday. The reason for my choice of Burgundy was the fact that I had never stopped there before, so while I knew much of France, including, in wine terms, the Bordeaux and Champagne regions, this was a great opportunity to have a look around the area which produces some of my favourite wines. And it was on my way. Well, sort of. So I'd headed down through a scorching North-Eastern France, temperatures reaching 34 degrees, in my little car, with two bikes strapped to the roof (for an explanation of this, see my Swiss holiday report), stopping off for supplies at my favourite little champagne house at Bouzy, Herbert Beaufort, where the proprietor had panicked when I mentioned I was heading to Switzerland, suggesting I hide all my supplies on my way there to avoid customs. I had totally forgotten about customs restrictions on bringing alcohol into non-EU countries...
On the morning of my first ride in Beaune, indeed Mercury's first outing in France - I'd never before seen a recumbent in France, just like most people I was to encounter during my short stay; indeed, I have still not been able to figure out the correct French word for a recumbent cycle, just like everyone I was to encounter - I got Mercury off my car roof, limbered up and sought to exit from the town. The weather had turned overnight - gone was the stifling humidity and 30 degrees plus heat, replaced by a much fresher 20 degrees or so, mostly overcast; while I was glad of the fresher weather, a little more heat could quite happily have stayed on! Getting into the centre of Beaune had been difficult enough the night before, and leaving was to prove little easier. First of all I did what felt like several circuits of Beaune's very own one-way peripherique, though in fact it was only about 250 degrees of a circle. I then followed the main road to Dijon for what felt like an eternity before getting out of town, heads turning in most cars that passed me (more so than anywhere else I've been on Mercury), and just outside town I got to a rather large roundabout, with an entry to the motorway. Better give it some welly to get around there without being pushed onto the motorway (how much is the toll for a bicycle from Beaune to Dijon?). This major Route Nationale wasn't much fun, and I was glad to get onto the little departmental road towards Pernand Vergelesses, a very quiet road through first an industrial estate and then my first vineyards.
Following the pleasant little D18 along towards Pernand
Vergelesses,
I
stopped to admire the beautiful view of the vineyards undulating towards the
village of Aloxe Corton in the distance. Time for a photo, looking towards Aloxe
Corton across Les Basses Vergelesses, a 1ier Cru vineyard. Heading on
towards Pernand Vergelesses, I noticed how they seemed to be extending the
village's area under vine as they were chopping down parts of the forests above
the vines and appeared to be preparing to plant more vines. In the village I
turned right towards Magny and the road snaked through the very pleasant
village, ever upwards on a hot and sweaty climb. I was still rather unfit having
not cycled enough all summer. A fast descent into Magny-les-Villiers brought me
screaming past a group of children who looked somewhat taken aback, either by my
strange contraption or the bizarre broad grin plastered over my face. This
high-speed descent also led me to make a major navigational error (these happen
to me quite often!) as I followed the road down to Corgoloin rather than taking
the route I had intended, staying high and descending into Nuits St Georges via
the village of Chaux.
By
the time I had realised my error I had lost too much altitude and was unwilling
to grind back up again. So instead I remained on the levels alongside the Route
Nationale, snaking my way into Nuits St Georges and regaining the Route
Nationale at the Clos des Argillieres vineyard, from which I had only recently bought
a bottle back in the UK. From there it was only a short ride into Nuits St
Georges, though even on this short stretch a lorry passed too close and earned
itself a respectful two-fingered salute from me.
In Nuits St Georges - a pleasant enough place, though not as
attractive as Beaune - I stopped at the roadside and ended up chatting to a
passing cyclist who showed some interest in my strange velocipede. I tried to
sell her the benefits of laid-back touring, but she looked unconvinced as she
set off again and wished me bonne route. Once I set off again I was quickly
reminded of the vagaries of small-road navigation in France: the utterly,
utterly useless signposting. Following small lanes in the UK can be hard going
as many only feature the next village along on their signposts, or maybe the
next larger village along the route too, which makes longer-range navigating a
bit of a chore (as I discovered early on during my End to End ride). The French
solve this problem by not bothering to signpost many lanes at all, as a result
of which you don't know whether the turning in front of you is a farm lane
leading nowhere further than a field, or the lane marked on your map.
Thus
I had trouble finding my way to Vosne Romanee (whose wines I value greatly) as
planned - at first, I took the road out of Nuits St Georges for too long,
climbing too high out of town. I then descended too low again and ended up back
where I had started. So in the end I took pot luck and just followed a little
lane, ignoring the "sauf riverains" signs along the way, and ended up in the
heart of delightful
Vosne Romanee, right in front of the Mairie (a most imposing
building for such a small commune; my guess is the building belonged to one of
the losers of the Revolution and was therefore taken over by the Republic
afterwards). I was very much taken with Vosne Romanee, where I enjoyed my rest
and vowed only to drink wine from pleasant villages in future. Fortunately in
Burgundy this shouldn't be too hard, as most villages are quite pleasant. So no
great sacrifices there!
After Vosne Romanee I wound my way along little lanes to the
fabulous little chateau at
Clos
de Vougeot, set in a beautiful walled vineyard. Sadly a fair amount of car
traffic blocked the narrow lanes around the chateau, clearly a bit of a tourist
attraction. I was particularly amused by a couple in a convertible who stopped
by a gap in the wall to take a photo, seemingly oblivious of the fact that they
thereby blocked the view of a cyclist standing at the side of the road trying to
take the same photo. Heaven forfend the poor blighters actually had to get out
and walk 5 metres to take a photo! So the cyclist took his photo through the
car... Sadly ther frontal view of the chateau was ruined by cars littering the
parroach road. Couldn't they park in a field nearby? I guess not, far to
valuable land to waste on cars...
After Clos de Vougeot the route became easier to follow as I found myself on the Route des Grands Vins tourist trail, leading me up through Chambolle-Musigny and Morey-St Denis - the former prettier than the latter, I'd say - before ending up in the slightly larger Gevrey-Chambertin. After a quick pass through town I ascertained that the culinary centre seemed to be a pair of cafes and a patisserie where the road narrowed and was cobbled right in the heart of the town, just below the church. So I leaned Mercury up against the patisserie and settled down for a light cyclist's lunch - a plate of charcuterie (paté, jambon persillé, saussicon de montagne and jambon cru), all washed down with a glass of Gevrey-Chambertin "La Bossiere" 1ier Cru 1997, and followed by a stiff coffee. Life doesn't get much better than that! Before I leave the patisserie owner comes out of her shop and quizzes me about Mercury, and I have to warn the mother of a toddler about Mercury's chain as her child, following every child's instinct, made a beeline for my bike's muckiest parts.
The next leg of my tour was to take me to the furthest point of my journey from Beaune, to Fixin, passing through Brochon. I can't say I was struck by the beauty of either place, probably on account of its general absence. What's more, having burned up a pair of cyclo tourists coming back into Brochon from Fixin, I failed to find my planned route out of Brochon, and ended up doing a tour of the village. I finally did find a way back to Gevrey-Chambertin, where I promptly got lost, ending up in a car park where I hit the most vicious sharp speed ramp I'd ever encountered. Only then did I realise I'd forgotten to bring a spare inner tube! Ooops! Once back in the town centre I found the cyclo tourists in front of me again. So much for burning them up... I headed down to the N74, crossed over, and promptly chose a dead end of a track. Well done, once again. I really do have a natural instinct for navigation. So I tried another road, towards St Philibert, which seemed to be the right way. A car passed rather too close for my liking, so I christened the driver Cunard, making the appropriate hand gesture at the same time. Then it started raining. It'll pass, I told myself. Following signs towards Gilly and Flagey Echezeaux, along a long flat stretch with a grim headwind building in strength, the rain increased. it'll pass, I repeated to myself, starting not to believe it. In Gilly I saw a sign towards an abbey, and decided to follow it. I'd only done about 40 miles, if that, and still felt pretty fresh. Things started looking up as the rain stopped and the road improved - it turned into a beautiful tree-lined avenue (ooh, had to watch those vicious trees, jumping out at unsuspecting passers-by - it's no wonder some French drivers and motorcyclists have taken to chopping them down, they are soooo dangerous...idiots!) rolling across the scenery up into St Bernard and then through beautiful countryside, entering and leaving woods and open fields towards Villebichot. Only one thing troubled me: where the devil was everybody? For the whole length of this road not a single car had passed me or come the other way. it was bliss! I continued along these deserted roads through lovely scenery all the way to the Abbaye de Citeaux, a semi-ruined place.
At last, signs of life. A fair few tourists were lingering
about the place, and one couple approached me and asked me about Mercury.
So
I did my best to explain, realising how rusty my French was.
How
the hell had I forgotten the word for corner? Once I had rested and looked
around a little - I'd have liked to have stayed by had forgotten Mercury's lock
- I set off again. A woman insisted on watching me set off despite my warning
that this was liable to make me fall off. Fortunately I didn't, and was once
again on my way. From the rear the abbey was very beautiful through the maize
fields, and then I found myself once again on a beautiful tree-lined avenue, the
D8 heading towards St Nicolas. In the heart of the Foret de Citeaux I tool a
little straight road heading towards Argilly, and found myself alone once more.
Except for an irritating buzzing moped slowly catching up with me. So I decided
to let him pass, and tried to grab his wheel, but alas he accelerated once past
me, and besides, his two-stroke fumes wouldn't have been great to follow. I
guess I'll never make a good derby racer!
After a while I reached Argilly. Argilly struck me as a pleasant place, very pleasant. Yes, I liked Argilly. As I passed through this sleepy little village stretched along the road, I noticed a bunch of kids racing along on bikes heading my way. Better put on a bit of a show for them - if this is to be their first glimpse of a bent in action, better make sure it's an impressive sight. Unfortunately I put in a bit too much of a good show, noticed the sharp right-hander rather late, and totally overcooked it, ending up on the far left of the road. Fortunately the road was empty! So much for the good show! A little later I spotted the dog in the road, and it spotted me and made its move, but this wasn't too worrying as it was only small. Unlike its mate, which was a fair bit larger, and seemed to have the attitude to match. Time to accelerate. And then the reason always to keep something in reserve: number three, seriously bigger, and clearly bad-tempered. At least that one was on a chain. But I had changed my mind by then: I no longer liked Argilly!
Not far to go now. Longvay came and went, as did some roadworks where I stayed on the tarmacked bit on the left rather than the gravel, except when oncoming traffic forced me right (I'd ignored the lights as nothing was coming at the time...). On the approach to Beaune several cars waved at me (well, technically their occupants did) and one even tooted as well as waving. The most cheerful reactions I'd had all day. Upon reaching Beaune after about 55 miles I did a little tour of the town centre on the bike before parking up in the hotel's garage and doing more exploring on foot. I found a delightful little bar, not very touristy at all, off the beaten tourist track, before ending up in a rather tourist-oriented restaurant serving all the classic local dishes, though the quality left little to be desired - that's the great thing about Beaune, even the more touristy joints actually make an effort with their food!
Vive la Bougogne!
Last modified on Thursday, 22 May 2003