Last year, on the way to the Amstel Gold race, we ate lunch in Macon. It was a delightful place and, as we didn’t have time to look around, we resolved to return. The start of this year’s Tour de France in Normandy gave us an opportunity to do just that. It’s a good 12-13 hour drive from home to the Tour start, which we broke up into more manageable chunks. Finally, my beloved has agreed that we shouldn’t drive much longer than 4-5 hours each day.
This turned out to be a great resolve as we had to take my Smart rather than hire a (manual) car from RenaultRent as my beloved had to “pop” back to UK for a couple of days for a client conference.
We left Tuesday morning, had lunch en-route and an overnight stop in Fuisse, some 5km from Macon, famed for its Pouilly-Fuisse wine. The countryside is glorious: gently rolling hills covered in regimented lines of bright green vines, warm honey-stoned houses nestling in the valleys and the odd herd of creamy coloured cows chewing the cud.
After a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, we continued our journey. Passing through Charolles, home to the famous Charolais beef, we saw plenty of cattle grazing or, more ominously, sitting on the lush green grass. As we headed into the centre of France and endless vistas of the countryside, I was reminded once more of the size of France. Something we tend to forget living in the highly populated Cote d’Azur.
Wednesday, we stayed not far from Le Mans in a hotel that’s been frequented by the greats of the motor racing world and whose names now adorn the hotel’s theatrically decorated bedrooms.
A gentle stretch of our legs around town and we were ready for a pre-dinner apero or two. I woke to birdsong and a drive to Le Mans to drop off my beloved who was heading to Bradford via Paris, returning lunchtime on Saturday. I meanwhile headed to ASO HQ at Saint-Lo and the Tour de France team press conferences and presentation.
I’d booked a hotel for four nights convenient for the run-up to the Tour and the first three stages. There’s nothing worse than having to change hotel every day, just ask any of the riders. The weather had gotten worse as we drove further north. It was over 10 degrees colder and leaden skies hid the sun. I broke out the woolies and wet weather gear.
Le Grand Depart at Mont Saint-Michel and you may be wondering “Where’s the peloton?” Unfortunately, my beloved’s train arrived into Saint-Malo at about the same time as the peloton set off from Mont Saint Michel. I couldn’t be in two places at once and the former was a good hour’s drive from the latter even without the Tour traffic. Simples! I had a lie-in and headed to Saint-Malo to collect my beloved. It was lunchtime, so we stopped to eat oysters and mussels in a restaurant along the seafront. It was full of French families and had white tablecloths and napkins – two sure signs we were in for a great lunch. We were not disappointed.
Neither of us was tempted to bid for one of these glorious properties – far too many windows to clean! Though a casual glance in a local estate agent revealed we could sell our apartment and with just 50% of the proceeds acquire our own, fully-renovated, mini-chateau with 10 bedrooms! Unfotunately, all that rich agricultural land and lush pastures induced a severe case of hay-fever in my beloved so here endeth our dreams of a mini Versailles.
Finally, it was time to head for home via Montpellier taking in the finish and start of two further Tour stages. As we drove there, we knew the peloton was going to face some echelon action as my Smart was visibly bobbing in the wind – it’s not the most aerodynamic of cars. Before bidding a fond farewell to the Tour, I managed to catch up with a few more acquaintances and contacts to set up some interviews post-Tour. Generally, I try not to get in the way of the other 1,999 journalists who earn their living writing about cycling. I’ll be content watching the action on the television for the next 10 days or so.