A Trip to France and a glass of wine

First of all a big thank you to all who contributed to my birthday present last year. You allowed me the excuse to spend a fantastic weekend seeing a bit more of France, a real vineyard, taste some wine and see some blokes cycling very fast up a very steep hill.

Starting at the beginning I dashed from work on Thursday night and drove down to Brighton to Rob and Noe's. An early start on Friday was called for to get to the tunnel for our 9.30 train. Having never travelled on Euro tunnel I was mightily impressed with the whole set up particularly the terminus building, which was clean cool and airy. The train itself was fascinating with all the cars loaded in through doors in the side and you then drive down the train. Doors then divide up the carriages and you travel in your car under the Channel. Only a few minutes to offload and you are on French Roads. The whole trip took about an hour, and was far quicker, cheaper and hassle free than the ferry.
We arrived in France in the pouring rain. This was the first time I had driven in France for several years and the first real distance. Once we had got out of the one way system of the Tunnel it was really easy. Get over the first roundabout and it all seems to be logical. OK off we got and it's a long way to go. We were heading for Dijon in the east of France. Just a few words about French motorways. Bloody Marvellous. No traffic no cops, and effectively no speed limit. Whoopee!
We had allowed 5 hours to get to the campsite and it took all of that and more. We arrived late afternoon and thanks to Noe's French settled in quickly with the usual pantomime of putting the tents up completed with few problems.
Food, was of course a priority and almost part of the reason for going. We drove the few miles to Beaune and strolled around the town until we found an open air restaurant. The rain had stopped part way down France and it was now a cool but pleasant evening. The fare was excellent even if the house wine was a bit rough. Even in France you pay for quality with wine so we discovered.
After a night under canvas without too much excitement (apart from the horses in the adjoining field snorting at my snoring!) we headed off to find the vineyard. This was quite close and also thankfully easy to find. Domaine Desertaux-Ferrand is in the Village of Corgoloin in the Burgundy region and close to Nuit St Georges. We drove down the gravelled drive to the Vineyard and parked outside the Chi (The building they make the wine in.) We found Genevieve Desertaux and once more Noe explained in French the reason for our visit. Thankfully Genevieve spoke good English and Noe could relax. So you go to a vineyard and you expect to taste some wine. Er well we tasted all of the wines. With and excellent explanation of the recent vintages and the various qualities with had a aromatic tour of the various grades and qualities. In Burgundy the area is dominated by a large escarpment called the Cape D'or (Golden cap) .

The best wines grow on the sunny side of the hill facing into the sun at the highest part, the poorest quality wines come from the valleys. Vines have deep roots so are not too dependant on the rain that was falling that morning, but they do like lots of sun. More sun gives more sugar and better quality wine. The wines that we where collecting came from the year before last and hence had exceptional amounts of sun. Quality wines. Having taken a tasting tour around the wines we now had a tour around the Chi with its cellar full of wines aging in Oak casks, the presses and the tiny bottling line. This was fascinating and we spent a good couple of hours looking chatting and sampling. Noe and Rob also decided that the produce was too good and we loaded the car up with 8 cases of wine. Not enough to sink a battleship but more than enough for a very good party!

After departing the vineyard we drove through the very pleasant countryside to Dijon for the afternoon. This is a very pleasant French town which after an excellent meal of galettes (savoury Crepes) we wondered through at our leisure. After an afternoon of touristy stuff we found a local supermarket for some food for the evening and the next day. The evening was then spent quietly reading eating and sampling some of the wines we had purchased.

On Sunday we planned to go to see the Tour de France. The best location as advised by our cycling expert (soon to be professional) was at the Ballon de Alsace. This is over near Mulhouse (pronounced moo loose not the various murderings of the name that we gave it!) which is very close to the Swiss border. A not inconsiderable distance but with French motorways we soon lopped off the miles. The plan was to try and get to the top of the hill and watch the Tour come up. It is only 3000 feet above sea level so crampons and oxygen would not be required. However as we drove up the hill it soon became obvious that this was no Sunday bike ride and that most of France had turned out. We got a reasonable distance up the hill before the Gendarmes told us to park up and walk. The first one said is was 10K but thankfully the second who seemed to be local said 6km. Still not a bad hike in quite a hot sun up a less than gentle slope. So off we set finally getting to the top. The crows had begun to gather and we started to see the mad carnival that is the Tour. Promotional cars with totty throwing sweets and other goodies would race past at about 50mph. It was like watching the village fete on speed. The huge yellow bloke on a bike was spectacular and some of the floats where quite bizarre. The French Gendarmerie advertisings float was really quite odd. You would definitely never see anything like this in England. After walking around on the flat top of the hill for a while we found a spot to watch the cyclist past, right beside the road. No crowd barrier just a Gendarme with a whistle. Still the speed the support cars went past you would be mad to stand in the road, you would be doing hedgehog impersonations very quickly!
The arrival of the cyclists preceded by the arrival of the camera helicopters. The leader shot through to shouts of allez allez! And was gone in a flash. He was then followed by another guy who was having a mechanic adjust his gears so he was hanging on the side of the car. Sounds like a good ruse to me I wonder if I could get a lift round the whole course like that!
The rest of the peleton then came through in bits and the whole thing was passed in about 20 minutes. I managed to obtain a few good shots but also lots of headless cyclists and the bald scalp of the guy next to me. Rather than follow the throng down the hill we had a quick beer in outside the bar we where standing besides and watched the rest of the race on their giant screen. Then it was the long trudge down the hill. It was a fantastic days entertainment, really worth the effort of the long climb and would recommend it to any one if only for the madness of the whole event!
Having got back to the car we crawled away from the event and finally got back to Beaune where we found a restaurant that didn't look like it would turn away three hot and sweaty tourists. A rather yummy Pizza and a beer or two later and it was time for home.
Monday morning dawned to reveal that once more all the Belgians and Dutch who inhabited the campsite had moved on. We had watched this phenomenon with growing amusement, every day a new batch of Belgian and Dutch camper vans would arrive throughout the day only to have all disappeared in the morning to be replaced by a new batch. It was like watching herds of migrating Wildebeest roaming across the plains of the Serengeti, only in camper vans.
A long hot (thank god for air con in cars!) drive with the sun blazing down saw us back in Calais. The weather was scorching until about 10 miles from the coast when the could came over and the temperature dropped noticeably. So to the terminal in Calais (Sangatte) hmmm bit different from the one in Folkestone, a sticky coffee bar a tacky supermarket and loads of sweaty looking brits it could have been any motorway service station. Rob did make some passing comment that the French designed the English terminus and the Brit's the French one. Oh Blimey I hope that not true, but it really felt like it!
A quick whoosh through the Euro tunnel and we where back home in England.
It felt like a week but was only four days. It was a fabulous break and really relaxing (despite the sore calf muscles). Now where is that corkscrew?

Jeremy
26th July 2005