Imbecile! Idiot! yelled the estate manager of a vineyard just outside the village of Puligny-Montrachet as I took a shortcut through his vines.
He was brandishing an implement.
‘I thought he was going to shoot you,’ my girlfriend said later.
Yes, I admit to taking the idea of exploring the vineyards of Burgundy by bicycle too literally. The vineyard manager’s vehemence was stark evidence of how precious the French are about their treasured crops.
Meanwhile, pedalling the length of a wine region feels virtuous. Minimal carbon footprint and all that.
There are no arduous climbs or manic descents and the organisers, Inntravel, take care of your bags between hotels.
Our six-day journey took us from Macon in the south of Burgundy, north to the ancient town of Beaune. We cycled approximately 15 miles a day, unescorted, but the route was meticulously planned and signposted. It was mainly dedicated paths alongside canals or traffic-free routes on old railway tracks.
Taking the two-wheel route through rural France gets right to the nation’s heart. You pass through villages just as devout inhabitants file into morning mass, admire their pride in their vintage cars and observe the perspiration of the farmhands, faithfully pruning, weeding and spraying the vines under the heat of the midday sun.
There was further evidence of their impressive self-sufficiency in Cluny’s bustling food and craft market. We gazed hungrily at the rows of browning chickens on a rotisserie, drizzling fat onto sizzling potatoes below and at the array of giant local vegetables loaded into locals’ fraying wicker baskets. Not a plastic bag in sight.
There was a van offering Burgundy wine-tasting. ‘Is it €10 per glass or per bottle?’ I enquired in pigeon-French.
‘Les Anglais!’ the locals guffawed. It was per bottle of course.
A cycling tour also gets you quickly acquainted with French intransigence. Patisseries and boulangeries close routinely at midday and not a minute later. ‘Une baguette s’il vous plait?’ we asked plaintively at 12.01pm through a half-open door. ‘Non, pas du tout!’ came the implacable reply.
Seeking lunch after a hot ride up the hill to Mercurey we arrived at a sunny restaurant terrace at 2.05pm only to find chairs already being methodically plonked on tables. Village stores are fermé on random days without explanation. The sign by the chateau entrance advertised wine-tasting from 10am. ‘Ce n’est pas possible,’ replied a female voice when I pressed the intercom just after midday.
After five hours riding the albeit flat 25 miles from Cluny to Dracy-le-Fort, the two pools and spa at the modern Hotel Le Dracy were most welcome.
We ventured out to the fortified town of Givry for dinner, only to pay €38 for a taxi. We feared the same on our return, but Hendrik, the chef of La Cadole bistro, ferried us back without charge.
The highlight of our trip was a ride through undulating vineyards in glorious weather to the majestic Chateau de Chamirey and a tasting on the rooftop veranda.
The owner, Bertrand Devillard, pointed out the different terroirs – some with more reddish soil or a steeper gradient than others – from which each of the wines, three chardonnay and three pinot noir, are derived.
Wine ignoramuses like me asking questions such as, ‘Why don’t the French put the name of the grape eg chardonnay on the bottle?’ were more than tolerated.
‘Because a chardonnay from one terroir tastes completely different from one harvested at another,’ was his answer.
Cycling 12 miles back after six glasses of wine was irresponsible but Inntravel provide detailed route notes not only to, but from, your chosen chateau, mindful that you might have had a few.
Heading from the market town of Chalon-sur-Soane, north to Puligny-Montrachet on day four, we rode mostly on the towpath of the Canal du Centre, past barges and pleasure boats stuck in locks.
We picnicked on local cheese and hand-picked cherries from an overhanging tree, before arriving at the elegant Hotel le Montrachet in the main town square.
On day five we stuck to estate roads of the premier cru vineyards, passing through the prestigious wine villages of Meursault, Volnay and Pommard. You can smell wealth here, especially when you see the size of the wine-merchants’ mansions.
We felt a whiff of pride when we finally cycled into the walled city of Beaune, celebrating with a traditional Bourgogne lunch of garlicky escargots, eggs poached in red wine and a bottle of Nuits St Georges.
Beaune’s supposed raison d’etre is wine. But another focus is health. Perhaps the two are connected.
The centrepiece of the town is the imposing, 15th-century Hotel-Dieu, constructed in 1443 to house the poor and sick following the Hundred Years War. It’s now a museum and in one of the original rooms we found remedies including woodlice powder, eye of crawfish and vomit powder.
Tasting the varied wines of Domaine Moissenet-Bonnard in an atmospherically musty cellar in nearby Pommard was a better aperitif to our final dinner in Montrachet.
We covered 140 miles, sampled 25 wines and ate a spread of dishes without ever feeling exhausted or bloated.