clairedavieswriter

The frogs did indeed quit their croaking as the sun went down, and Team Bernard spent a peaceful night beside the river Seille, until we were woken by randy pigeons just after 6. Besides us, there were just three motorhomes on this simple municipal site, only one of which showed signs of life as I pedalled away at 8am, the sun warm on my back, but wearing my gilet against the chilly morning air.

Thanks to Harry’s careful tweaking of my routes, the last two days had been free of drama from the Garmin brothers, but I suspect Guillaume had taken umbrage, because we spent the first half an hour on a rough stony track beside the river. Fishermen and a teenager on his way to school were my only company – he wished me a cheerful ‘Bon courage!’ as I slalomed between the worst bits.

Aside from that, all went smoothly, and my main takeaway from today is that Burgundy is glorious cycling country – for those of us who enjoy gentle touring anyway. Members of the col bagging fraternity (or sorority) are probably best advised to take their wheels elsewhere (cf the Auvergne).

Obviously, it helped that the weather was perfect. But even so…

First, it’s basically flat

With just enough hills to add perspective and provide views:

And even Guillaume had no trouble finding quiet roads – we rode for miles without seeing a car.

The villages are pretty as well. Traditional architecture round here is quite distinctive: houses have deep skirts fore and aft: bricked up at the rear, left open at the front.

Churches are stout and square, with roof tiles that are decorative:

Or plain. This one had something of The Scream about it:

It’s home to a major river:

There is no shortage of peaceful lunch spots – ours had a view of vineyards on the distant hills

And if you’re as fortunate as we were with the weather, you’ll enjoy some truly painterly reflections.

I’m clearly not the first to make this observation, because on this relaxing section of the Bourgogne du Sud cycle path, I came across significant numbers of other cyclists (mostly British retirees) for the first time since the Atlantic coast.

It’s real bread basket country, and farmers are so proud of their work, they tell you what they’re growing – literally, ‘here grows (a crop called) the gilded one’:

One village literally put their crop on a pedestal:

Louhans is the capital of Bresse Bourguignonne, and this morning I passed farms whose milk was designated Appellation d’Origine Protégée for Beurre de Bresse, and whose birds received AOP for Volaille de Bresse.

As always, we found amusement on the way.

Here’s Bernard looking every inch the coq sportif:

This made me wonder: « Who and where is le grand fromage? »

And to top it all, as it were, this was the surprising sight of the day, “au milieu de rien”.

Given that we really are in the middle of nowhere, I had anticipated another tumbleweed village and had brought food of sorts for tonight (though sadly no wine). So I was pleasantly surprised to find that the metropolis of Buffières (population 300) has a bar and a boulangerie. Better still, the landlady of my self-catering gîte offered to make me supper, so I am looking forward to something that doesn’t come out of pouch (and a glass of wine), and hopefully some breakfast before I set out tomorrow. Happy days.