Touring France’s Alsace on 2 Wheels

There’s an intermediate period, often called middle age, that settles in on us: We’re too old for youth hostels, too young for Grand Tours.

European biking holidays can be the solution, combining visits to superb restaurants and country inns with moderately challenging days of cycling. It’s an increasingly popular option, with hundreds of summer and fall outings offered by American and Canadian firms.

The most popular vacation choice is still France--no surprise, considering the excellent secondary roadways along relatively flat terrain, the countless impeccable chateaux presided over by white-hatted chefs, and the respect and wide berth given les cyclistes by French motorists.

As a novice who had never cycled on anything more sophisticated than a three-speed, I signed up for Butterfield & Robinson’s tour of Alsace, a nine-day ride along the Wine Route of eastern France.

A leisurely 150 miles later I was no worse for wear. Granted, the first day was touch and go for my city legs, but the gentle beauty of the countryside and the reward of a good soak in the tub of yet another fine inn amply motivated me.

Charmed by Alsatians

We cycled in groups of twos and threes, stopping often for cafe au lait, croissants or just for a rest, so we had many chances to meet Alsatians.

They showed none of the haughtiness too often associated with Parisians. Indeed, like the well-groomed grandmother we met in Ville, they sought us out.

As three of us retrieved our bikes from a hedge where we’d leaned them during lunch (locks are rarely necessary), she left her luncheon group to inquire about our trip. We explained, using the international language of smiles, gestures and shrugs.

But then she took us by surprise. Eyes twinkling, she carefully recited the gem of her vintage World War II vocabulary: “I love you very much tonight.” She gracefully retreated to her Sunday luncheon, leaving us smiling at her charm.

As we explored cobbled squares, curious homemakers would call out to us from their second-story windows, asking our nationality. We heard them translate to their families, “Ah, Americains et Canadiens,” as if that explained our interest in their time-forgotten village.

Delightful Cuisine

Alsace, possessed alternately by France and Germany over the last hundred years, combines German cuisine with a light French touch. This fortuitous blend has given Alsace more Michelin-starred restaurants than any other area.

We sampled more than our share, starting the first night at Hostellerie du Cerf in Marlenheim, 12 miles from Strasbourg. We wondered how we would ever manage the next day’s trek after indulging in the banquet prepared for our group: two appetizers, including a foie gras-stuffed rabbit, main dishes of fresh sole and pigeon in puff pastry, and three desserts.

We survived, but after a few nights of such fare, John Elkins of Colorado spoke for us all: “I feel like a French duck, being fattened for pate.”

Although the four-hour star-studded meals were consistently delicious, they become tedious. As amateur athletes, we would have appreciated lighter fare and shorter evenings.

We ate our evening meals together but our days were unstructured. At breakfast our two bilingual leaders would give out a sheet of detailed instructions to get us from here to there, along with the phone number of the next hotel, and would color a squiggly orange line on our route maps.

Lightweight Adventuring

Supplied with a booklet that briefly discussed the historic, architectural and cultural background of each day’s journey, we were on our own until dinner.

Leaving our hotel each morning, we carried nothing but maps, suntan lotion, plastic water bottles and sweaters. Invariably we’d meet other cyclists seeing Europe on their own.

On their expensive bikes loaded with gear (one rider carried a folding chair), they may as well have been riding the fat-tired one-speeds of my youth. They told us of problems carrying bikes aboard trains, making repairs, and even finding storage for the cardboard boxes used for shipment.

After meeting those Spartans, we doubly appreciated the luxury of having our guides look after the details while we concentrated on exercise and adventure.

Along the day’s 20- to 35-mile route we each sought out a private itinerary. Don, the Boston surgeon, broke speed records in his enthusiasm to visit all the guidebook entries, including eerie, wooden-cross cemeteries of German occupation troops and the modernistic Albert Schweitzer Museum in Kaysersberg.

For Carla, who had brought a 10-pound wine encyclopedia all the way from Wisconsin, it was serious viticultural discussions, tastings and note taking.

For Bob, a Chicago importer, the highlight was the food, so much so that he biked 20 miles out of his way to lunch at the legendary Auberge de l’Ill.

Leaders Ferried Luggage

The group leaders, an American physician and a Canadian lawyer, spent their days ferrying the luggage of the 23 cyclists from room to room, between inns. Their vans also carried two spare bicycles and a tool kit.

“The only cycling we have time for is on the two days when the group doesn’t move hotels,” said guide Noel, who could outperform everyone on the long hills.

We spent our cycling hours on little-traveled roadways connecting fairy-tale villages with red geraniums cascading from hundreds of window boxes. Views were toward the rolling Vosges Mountains topped by towers and fortresses built by Middle Ages dynasties.

Along the roadside stood 18th- and 19th-Century eight-foot bronze crucifixes, their German-inscribed plaques commemorating a former landowner.

For a week we saw no buildings higher than a church steeple, nor larger than a farmer’s wooden barn where the family Peugeot and horses were often parked, side by side.

This is wine country, and miles of fields checkerboard the valley along the famous Route du Vin. The Alsatian wine industry has been twice resurrected: During the 50-year German occupation of Alsace beginning in 1871 and again during World War II, the vineyards were systematically destroyed by Germans trying to eliminate competition with their own Rhine wines.

Landmarks Survived

Major battles of two world wars have been fought on its land, claiming the lives of thousands of Alsatian men and flattening many of the area’s ancient landmarks, even entire villages.

But many remain. Five-hundred-year-old wooden town gates announced Bergheim, our first stop early in Day Six. The village was surrounded by tall, golden-hued ramparts from the 14th Century, flanked by squat towers.

As we watched young boys in short pants and suspenders pull hay carts to market, we didn’t have to be told that we were indeed in a very special part of the world.

Later that day we lunched in Riquewihr, a picture-post card town straight out of the 16th Century. Fields of Riesling and Muscat grapes crowd thick, lion-colored walls with 13th-Century gateways in this village that lives for and by wine.

Lunches were a highlight and a linguistic challenge. Our preference was to join locals who’d gather family-style around the tables of some inn. We’d point and ask for “some of that”--the daily plate of oil-seasoned butter lettuce, baskets of warm rolls and a platter of meat and boiled potatoes with a rich French sauce.

Other days we’d picnic among wild blackberry shrubs overlooking misty valleys and being overlooked by a crumbling hilltop chateau of another era.

The granddaddy of touring companies is Toronto’s Butterfield & Robinson, whose first trip was 20 years ago when the founders were students. B&R; offers more than 70 departure dates from May through October. Nine-day trips run $1,375, not including air fare.

Twelve-speed bicycles, with straight or dropped handlebars, in men’s and women’s models, are provided. B&R; maintains a garage in central France to service its 500 custom-designed cycles. Cyclists furnish their own handlebar bags.

Travel agents can book various European cycling tours. For details on the tour described here, contact Butterfield & Robinson, 70 Bond St., Toronto, Ont., Canada M5B 1X3, phone (416) 864-1354.