In the second of a two-part series on his motorbike tour of France, PETER MURTAGHis wined and dined in style
IF YOU can combine good biking roads and interesting geomorphology, then you've got me. Friends who endure my company are used to two of my abiding passions - geography and geology . . .
The winding, lazy Loire and its impossibly beautiful chateaux behind us, Tony, my biking partner, and I head off into the Auvergne and the volcanic region of France's great massif central. Some nine to 13 million years ago(or maybe 6,000 ago if you are Sarah Palin), the massif south of Clermont-Ferrand was a cauldron of volcanos spewing ash and magma and creating a chain of domes.
About three million years ago, glaciation sculpted the area into what we see today: U-shaped valleys radiating from the now sleeping domes, further reduced since then by weathering so that all that remains of the volcanos are the central cores, volcanic plugs of jagged basalt reaching for the skies.
The roads up are heaven. Fat billiard table roads, winding this way and that as they climb. The bikes take them with grace and ease. At the top of the Puy Mary (c1,787m), the views are breathtaking. The land below is lush and green, hard to imagine this was once Europe's largest active volcano region.
The descent is as exhilarating as going up and we come down eventually to an unexpected delight on the way to Cahors, the valley of the river Célé west of Figeac.
The road (the D41) is wonderful for the bikes: it's off the beaten track but the surface is good and there's not much other traffic. In fact, there should be walkers here because the route is part of the Camino de Santiago: the part from Le Puy to St Jean Pied de Port in the Pyrenees.
At the village of Espagnac-Sainte-Eulalie there is evidence of pilgrims. The evidence is a refugio - a simple hostel for pilgrims - beside a priory, and a visitor centre.
Cahors is all about wine, and wine and bikes don't mix so the machines get to rest for a couple of days. But then it's back up north for the road home: target Limoges or thereabouts.
Grinding down the kilometres when you're trying to cover long distances fast isn't much to write home about but, like the blessing of the bikers in Brittany, you blunder on something memorable.
On a road south east of Limoges, slicing through hilly land of deciduous and evergreen trees and fields of dairy cows as the light began to fade, we spy that welcome sign: chambre d'hote! A few minutes later, we're outside a very closed looking auberge in the mountain village Pradines.
A tall, thin, middle-aged man shuffles over and engages us in heavily accented French. The auberge is closed, he confirms, and there's nothing else for miles around. We query him about possible alternatives (not looking good) and then he offers to cook for us and put us up in the neat little house right beside the auberge. Hmmmm . . .
"Speak English?" he asks.
"Yes," we reply in unison.
"Well boys," he says, "I'm closed but I'll open up! The little place is my B&B. I haven't much on the menu in the restaurant but it won't take long. My dad was from Donegal. Mother from Tyrone. I grew up in South Africa but came here from the Isle of Man. BMWs? Great bikes, eh? Got two in the basement."
We are in the company of Stephen Nesbitt, proprietor of the Auberge Le Saint Georges and his offer is just too good to refuse. Bags unpacked, 10 minutes later we're in the auberge and the pan's about to swing.
"Now, what's it to be boys?"
We are the only people in the restaurant for what is shaping up to be a long night. From a pork terrine starter - home-made from the heart and throat and with a fois gras centre, served with home-made bread - to a mains of magret of duck (cooked to pink perfection) and served with fresh ratatouille, carrots, beans and boiled potatoes, the food is superb.
The price? Sixteen euro a head. And the wine? Well, the wine was a bottle of Vacqueyras from Gigondas in the Rhone. That was €18.
In between courses, we are joined by Marie Jo and her young son, Roman.
Somewhere along the way Steve utters his basic philosophy: "I keep it simple, boys, like to keep it simple." It's a mantra he repeats several times, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
In the basement, we are shown his RS1000 (with 25,000km on the clock) and RS1100 (with 10,000km on the clock). In the B&B, there are certificates showing that Steve has done some of the road circuits on the Isle of Man and his bookshelf sports a copy of Adventure Motorcycling by Chris Scott.
Next morning after breakfast, Steve directs us to a magical biking road east of Limoges - a 10km smooth, hilly and bendy stretch through beautiful countryside between Eymoutiers and Peyrat de Chateau.It was so good we did it twice. And we kept it simple from there until Cherbourg . . .
