On Tuesday, I caught a 7 a.m. train from Chamonix through Lyon to Beaune (pronounced Bone-uh) in the heart of the Burgundy wine country. My goal was to ride a rental bicycle on paths through towns and vineyards. Once in Beaune, I got a hotel across from the train station that my tour book said had internet access. The madame at the front desk told me that there was internet in the rooms that you could access through the telephone line. She said there was also a community internet terminal in the lobby that I could use. My room was the biggest I had gotten this whole trip, and the bathroom was huge. But I found out that the internet ‘access’ was the ability to connect to your dial up server. I told her I only had a server in the U.S., and she said I could use that one. "No problem." I tried to explain to her that the problem was  it would cost me a euro a minute. I also thought about explaining to her that she did not actually have internet in the room as she had told me; that all the hotel had were telephone lines. But I stopped in mid sentence because I wasn’t going to give up the large room, and she obviously didn’t know how internet service worked.  I should also mention that lobby internet terminal at Hotel de France in Beaune is shut down from 1 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. because the whole hotel is shut down at that time. You actually have to come in through a back gate during those hours. One advantage to this is that it is very quiet at this time, and if you want to take a nap, this is the time to do it. But I asked why the computer in the lobby had to be turned off, and she answered, “because that is the way we do it,” as if I was an uncomprehending American which I was in this case. But no matter, I was able to procure good inexpensive internet access at a bar/café in town.

I checked out the bike rental place just a couple of blocks away, and the owner was the most helpful tour guide I’ve ever met. His name is Florent, and he is mentioned in my tour book. I told him I knew where I was going to go biking, and he said, “Ah, you have Rick Steves’ book.” I said yes. He told me there were many routes to do, and that he would draw one up especially for me tomorrow when I came in for the bike. He then drew on the map a great route to walk into town. His route took me along a narrow street up on the elevated, old ramparts (walls) of the medieval city. The walls were built to completely circle the town in order to make it into a fortress during times of attack in olden times. Many, many cities throughout Europe are like this. Beaune has a completely Middle Ages look. One building had a sign that said it was built in the 10^th Siecle (century). The town is like a museum. The Notre Dame Cathedral was restored by the same person who restored the Notre Dame in Paris.

At the café where I was using the internet, I met two retired airline pilots and their wives. They were traveling around France and England, and were close to ending their one month yearly sojourn. Jack Baker retired from Delta Airlines one year before the 9/11 attacks. He was the most senior captain on the S-80 in Atlanta for the last few years of his career. In case anyone doesn't know, I was a captain on the S-80 at American Airlines  until this year. The other retired pilot was his brother, Bill Baker, who retired from Northwest Airlines a little after Jack (since Jack is the older brother). I had a beer while they ate their dinners, and we talked (among other topics) about how different the airline pilot's career has become. Jack had begun at Delta when it was utilizing turboprops. Both Jack and Bill met their wives while they were in high school, and all four seemed to be having a great time traveling around together. Jack and his wife have been married for over 40 years, and Bill and his wife have been married for something like 37 years. And they’re airline pilots. Can you believe that? Both brothers did stints in Viet Nam, and all four seemed to be really making the most out of life during retirement. I included a picture of the brothers to the left.

The bike ride was great. I told Florent that I wasn’t really into drinking wine all along the way but that I wouldn’t mind checking out one or two ‘caves,’ where they make the wine. He nodded and said, ‘Sightseeing, yes, okay, I make you a good route,’ and he proceeded to draw me a route on a map that would take me on a dedicated bike ride through the middle of the vineyards and through about 5 or 6 ancient towns. It would be about 23 kilometers (13 miles) one way. The ride very peaceful and beautiful. The dedicated paved bike road allowed me to focus on the autumn colors of the fields. The bike was wonderful. It had 26 gears, and there was a basket in front of the handlebars with pockets for cameras, wallets, etc. And there was a plastic sleeve on the top where you put the map so you could follow the route. The temperature was in the upper 60s, and the sky was a high overcast. All the colors of Fall foliage were present but in miniature, as the plants were no higher than about 4 feet. The vineyards presented a carpet of yellows, reds and greens stretching up into the hills, and miles down onto the plains, and I was bicycling right in the middle of it. It took me only an hour and a half to make it to the far end of my route where I sat above the city of Santenay, and had a picnic of crackers, honey, an apple and water.

It happened to turn 12 noon while I sat gazing at the hills and fields. Church bells in three different towns began ringing in the distance. As I was listening to the distant bells, another church about ¼ mile from me, began ringing it’s bell, and, due to it’s proximity, it rang loud. This close one rang 12 bells several times with some ringing in between. Then it just went crazy and rang for over 5 minutes. The church bells are definitely a part of the European experience that tell me I’m not in the United States

I rode back the way I came, and stopped at one winery, where the owner explained to me the reason some wines are better than others, and let me sample some different wines for 5 Euros. The Robiteau winery was first built in the 16^th Century, and I was allowed down the steps into the dark, dusty ‘cave’ to get a glimpse of the wooden barrels where fermenting wine awaited it’s time. Later on in town, I ran into Jack , and he told me that he had just come from a short bike ride to the north of town (I had gone south), and that he wasn’t impressed. He said it was along a busy road, and the scenery did not compare with the southern route. (The four of them had driven their car along a southern route earlier that day.) I believe that the northern route does get nice, but first you have to drive along with traffic.

There was a possibility of rain the next day (Thursday), and I was getting tired of hotels. During my entire trip, I couldn't envision ending it in Paris after experiencing the quiet and laid back ambiance of Nice, the Alps, and the French countryside. I've been to Paris at least 20 times. It's a great city to visit but I decided that I'd rather exit the tranquil countryside for a direct route back home, and leave Paris for another trip. John Steinbeck wrote in the book Travels with Charley that journeys usually end sooner than they actually end physically, meaning that most people are ready to be home before they get home. By making a quick decision to leave the next morning and be back in the U.S. by the next afternoon, I would be shortening that time span of anticipation. Basically, now, I would be home before I thought about it. Using my AA travel privileges, I listed myself on the half-empty flight from Paris to Boston the next day, and I booked a fast direct train from Dijon to CDG Airport for 5:50 a.m. the next morning. By the time you read this, I’ll either be on a 767 over the Atlantic, or at home in New Hampshire.

In the next few days, I’ll try and add some more pictures and text of some of the things I left out, but you probably won’t be interested now that you know how the story ends.

Thanks again for reading,

Paul Ogier