Why Everyone Should Bike in Burgundy

As a cycling tour guide for Duvine Adventures in Tuscany I was not very happy about having to leave my beloved Italy this September to spend a week at our European headquarters in Beaune in the heart of Burgundy.  Coming from Italy I expected to find only cold weather and colder people in France.  The all-night train ride from Florence did nothing to put me in a better mood. 

 

Stumbling off the train, all I wanted was a long nap, but instead our French guides insisted on taking me to Beaune’s Saturday morning market.  Their enthusiasm quickly started to warm my heart.  The market fills the main square with regional farmers, cheese makers, butchers and craftsmen.  Only the French could turn something with so much potential for chaos into a very polite, bucolic experience.  My fellow guides were obviously regulars here and knew exactly where to go for the best deals on truffles, beans and fresh vegetables (everything they would need to make the authentic meal they had promised me for dinner).  Our last stop (and clearly their favorite) was at the “crazy butcher’s” stand.  I could see immediately why he had earned this nickname.  Standing at about 6’3” and dressed from head to toe in a white chef’s uniform, he was constantly in motion, waving a messy cleaver in one hand and an unidentifiable piece of pork in the other all the while shouting about his high quality and low prices.  By contrast, the other butchers, whose stands were less than five feet away, were extremely subdued, politely responding to customers’ questions while avoiding any self-promotion.  Thus, the “crazy butcher” certainly grabbed my attention and when he found out I had just come from Italy he started shouting in gibberish that was vaguely reminiscent of the dips and swells of an Italian accent.  This impersonation made his hand-waving more exaggerated (if that was possible) and I had to back away to avoid getting slapped with “the world’s greatest piece of pork.”  My fellow guides quickly bought this treasure and we hurried away with his wild shouts following us across the square. 

 

Back at our apartment, it had turned into a beautiful fall day with weather in the 60’s and not a cloud in sight.  Ever since I had started working for DuVine I had heard guests and guides alike raving about the biking in Burgundy, so I decided I should go out and reassure myself that nothing could compare to Tuscany.  Taking a copy of the map we give to guests on our Burgundy tour and a bike that was 10cm too small, I set off into the countryside.  No amount of rave reviews could have prepared me for what I found.  The region is absolutely covered with great biking roads.  Every 1-2 kilometers there is a small village and each village is connected to each neighboring village with beautiful, well-paved roads.  Imagine a spider’s web of roads covering an entire country.  It is a biker’s dream.  Because these villages often have only a few hundred inhabitants, there is almost no traffic and there are countless peaceful options for riding between the bigger towns.

 

Needless to say, I was blown away.  I spent the first ten kilometers without seeing a soul while cruising through a forest preserve.  Then, I broke out into the region’s iconic vineyards.  Roads lined with stone walls gave way to endless rows of green vines, beginning to turn red as summer gave way to autumn.  Upon reaching Nuits Saint George, a town renowned for its winemaking, I decided to pick up our Burgundy tour route and climb up onto the Cote de Nuits (the famous ridge where all the best grapes are grown).  Within about ten minutes, a little sweat was rewarded with a fantastic view.  From an elevation of only a few hundred feet above the town, the Saone Valley spreads out before you, a sea of vines only broken by the occasional steeple.

 

Riding on, the Cote de Nuits was dotted with isolated villages that probably have not changed in hundreds of years.  The specks of color amongst the vines that represented the people participating in the vendage (grape harvest) certainly provided a timeless sight.  As the shadows began to grow and my stomach began to rumble, I reluctantly turned back towards home.  With no idea which roads to take, I stumbled on a true gem.  A battered, rusty sign attached to the base of a stone wall in Nantoux pointed right to Pommard (an important junction on my journey home) so I went right and quickly found myself on a paved path that was barely wide enough for one car.  This can’t be the road, I thought, but I had already descended too far to consider turning around.  Biting my lip, I resolved to trust the sign and see where this “road” was taking me.  This turned out to be a great decision as the road bumped me down the hillside like a rollercoaster ride.  I was grinning uncontrollably at the bottom and pleasantly surprised to see a sign welcoming me to Pommard. 

 

Getting back to the apartment just before dark, I arrived just in time for the promised French meal featuring our favorite butcher’s pork.  Washing it down with some local pinot noir, I was forced to admit that France isn’t so bad after all.  In fact, I urge everyone, no matter what level biker you are, to go biking in Burgundy.  For a great experience and to really see the region like a local I can’t recommend my fellow guides high enough.  Check out their great tour at www.duvine.com.