Riding out of Bourg was easy. Though our stay was at the first of 3 possible hotels and the furthest from our next destination – St. Emilion. This added about 10km to our journey.

We rode out of town and along a path by the river in the chilly morning. I was wearing a long sleeved shirt and my jacket. And I was wishing for gloves. Fall was definitely in the air.

We went through tiny villages and past limestone cliffs with caves and homes abutting the cliffs. Most of the houses were charming, many with lovely gardens still filled with blooms as Fall was just arriving.

Every village had a church. Many were grand, most had graveyards and a surprising number of them were essentially deserted, with missing or boarded up windows. Although I was able to get some great photos, they felt a bit sad.

There were very few people on the roads. It made for a comfortable ride as we rarely had to worry about dodging traffic. Our primary concern for a Sunday morning was coffee. Would we be fortunate enough to find a little cafe or boulangerie that was open on a Sunday morning?

God smiled on us just after noon. In Villegouge we saw a sign pointing to the left: “Pattisserie”. We were saved! We stopped at the relatively modern building. There was a small market canopy in the parking lot, where a young woman was selling fresh oysters.

The pastries were amazing, beautiful to look at and so delicious. We had two creme brulee tartlettes, a strawberry tartlette, and a flan which was light and custardy – perhaps the best choice of all. Sadly, it was not mine; we had to steal from Ken.

The coffee came from a machine not unlike a Nespresso and it was delicious. We shared some baguette and cheese from breakfast and it was particularly tasty. We were in heaven. I had ordered everything, in French, with no miscommunication, and no confusion. These little moments are the fabric of our adventures. Not everything needs to be Instagram worthy :0)

Our journey continued through back roads and vineyards. I thought a lot about the smells; the last of the grapes over-ripe on the vines, the pomace piled at the edge of the fields (the skins, seeds and stems, leftover after the grapes are pressed), manure being tilled into the soil between the vines, which could also be mistaken for a very stinky cheese. At first the smells were rather off-putting. Over time they just became familiar, part of the background of the experience.

As we got closer to St. Emilion, the vineyards were much tidier and chateaux increasingly large and grand. Many were behind iron gates and turrets were appearing everywhere.

Angelus in particular was a wee bit over the top with gold and iron and all sorts of shiny bits. We did not try the wine, but I recall hearing that it was good and very popular.

We had a few spiky road crossings as we got closer to St. Emilion. We managed all of it well, except for the sudden stops, often at road junctions. We were often a whisper away from simply piling into each other. We got better at it.

Ken and Cathy had both been to St. Emilion before and told us it was beautiful. And I may have stopped dead as the town appeared over the hill.

The medieval limestone town is built in the shape of an amphitheatre. It is essentially an open air museum. We rode in through the gates, dismounted and walked our bikes along the ancient cobblestone streets towards our hotel. I could not keep my head facing forward, there was so much to see; restaurants, shops, squares, lovely old buildings. It was simply wonderful.

We arrived at the hotel to discover our baggage was not there yet. After a bunch of back and forth we were finally able to find the bike lock up. Security was a bit questionable with a motorized fence that could never fully closed. But with all of them locked together, it would have been quite a trick to haul them away. Well… except for the application of a good set of bolt cutters I guess.

We were eventually able to check into our hotel – the absolute tiniest rooms I have ever seen. Reminder, I have been to Japan many times and was pretty confident I know what a small hotel room looked like. My expectations are always small when staying in European hotels.

Somehow we found a way to make everything fit and get past each other in the 1-2 feet between the double bed and the walls. We showered and changed and went out into the world….

Stay tuned for Part 2.