This 560-mile French Bike Trail Has Châteaus, Charming Houseboats, Surreal Gardens, and Limestone Wine Caves

Exploring France’s Loire Valley is a surreal affair, with its blend of ancient Gaelic history, resplendent Renaissance châteaus, and vineyards with roots in an era that makes the American mind, with our comparatively infant 250-year history, malfunction. And there’s no better way to be immersed in it all than by hopping on a bike and cycling along the Loire River, tracing the seams that hold together this enchanting region.

In 2025, the area is celebrating the 25th anniversary of its certification as a UNESCO heritage region, as well as the creation of Loire à Vélo (Loire by Bike), a 560-mile marked bike route that stretches from Nantes in eastern France to its terminus in the seaside resort town of Saint-Brévin-les-Pins. I already had plans to be in Barr, an Alsatian half-timbered village, to run a 50-kilometer ultramarathon. What better way to recover than to spend a few days shaking out my legs across 100 miles of bike trail and spoiling myself with good food and drink?

I start my journey on a Tuesday morning in Orléans at the Empreinte Hotel, where a touring bike is waiting for me. I leave my duffel bag with reception for transport to my next stop and hop on the bike for an 18.5-mile ride to Beaugency. It’s a beautiful start to the day with the gentle morning sun glistening against the Loire.

Tracing the river makes for relatively flat, easy riding. It’s also, at this point, almost entirely separated from vehicular traffic. Skirting through the countryside with tall oaks surrounding me and a mix of great tits (don’t look at me, I didn’t name them), blackbirds, and the common swift chirping, it’s easy to slip into a peaceful trance, humming Mungo’s “In The Summertime.”

My only plans for Beaugency are to catch a train. As I make my way through town, I’m quickly confronted with one of the challenges of traveling along a 560-mile route: There are too many places and not enough time. I’ll find over the next three days that if I made a pit stop at every charming village or roadside cafe, I’d never make it back home to Berlin.

Despite the temptation to linger, I promptly hop on the train to make my scheduled tour of the historic Château de Chaumont. This is part of the beauty of travel in western Europe. You can cycle, hop on a train when you’re tired, and continue onward as you please.

About 40 minutes later, I depart the train in Blois and rejoin the bike path for another 14 miles to the château, where I meet with Ophélie Le Coze after a buffet-style lunch—my hefty plate featured veggie sausage, a couple of salted grenadine potatoes, rice, and a small helping of ratatouille before I finished with an apple crumble. This would end up being one of my favorite meals of the trip: filling, flavorful, and varied.

Le Coze is a press relations assistant at the Domaine de Chaumont-sur-Loire, an 11th-century estate and UNESCO World Heritage Site that could serve as the backdrop of a Disney film with its series of connected cylinder towers topped with smooth coned roofs.

Because the Loire Valley is brimming with castles, there’s almost a kind of competitive impulse to stick out among the pack. Here, the coup de grâce, as it were, is the extensive gardens surrounding the château. Le Coze explains that Domaine de Chaumont-sur-Loire is home to the annual International Garden Festival running from April to November. More than 900 gardens have been created over 30 years of competition. This year’s theme is “Once Upon a Time, in the Garden,” evoking a childlike playfulness from a world full of fairy tales.

These are not your average gardens. They’re walk-in exhibitions that transport visitors to the fantastical place of a child’s imagination. There’s one with Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket, another with a large pond surrounded by mythical creatures exquisitely made of wire, and one where, after walking through a keyhole, you’re invited to sit on benches playing their own soft melody next to an encased flower offering a thematic scent for the encounter.

In total, there are 15 gardens shaped like leaves hanging off branches when viewed from the sky. It’s a kind of experiential art I’ve never before encountered, and I leave with a newfound appreciation for human creativity and imagination.

From the château, I roll down the hillside back to a houseboat on the Loire where I’ll be spending the night. It’s a charmingly no-frills setup, but I don’t need much when views of the Loire are literally right at my feet.

I wake up to birds chirping like an orchestra tweaking their instruments. Breakfast is served by basket delivery on the deck of the boat. I devour my pain au chocolat and jar of fresh strawberries while sipping on a second batch of French press coffee.

It’s a gloomy, chilly morning with afternoon rain threatening in the forecast. I’ve got another 28.5 miles ahead of me on the day and am motivated to get moving. The last thing I want is to risk missing out on my wine tasting.

Despite the cool wind, I warm up quickly on my roughly 13-mile ride to Château du Clos Lucé just outside of Amboise. Loads of school children in matching hats are trotting around the grounds like lemmings to admire the home where Leonardo da Vinci spent the last three years of his life. The Tuscan artist and inventor moved to the château in 1516 at the invitation of King Francis I.

Since da Vinci turned out to be the most famous resident, the château has been converted into a museum of his life’s work while giving a glimpse into where he lived and slept during the last few years of his life. The exhibitions touch not only on his artistic career, but also on some of the more interesting-to-bizarre designs he concocted for military equipment, like the large tank shaped like a Hershey’s kiss.

Outside, visitors wander the gardens that have been shaped to mirror the Tuscan landscape that inspired da Vinci, complete with the tall, thin cypress trees so emblematic of the region. You can also spot the occasional homage to da Vinci’s inventions, like his take on the precursor to a helicopter’s propellers. Children run over to turn the handle that makes the wavy blades spin.

Ready for wine, I unlock my bike and head back to the trail to make it to my tasting before the rain clouds decide to alleviate themselves. Fortunately, it’s just another 40 minutes on the saddle before I reach Maison Laudacius—a wine cave built in 1961 into a limestone cliff that keeps up to two million bottles cooling at around 12 degrees Celsius (53 Fahrenheit). It’s now a cooperative for a group of 15 local winegrowers.

Monks started making wine in this region as early as the 5th century. Chinon quickly became the grape of choice for both its resilience and versatility. That’s why it can be used to make all of your favorite varieties, from a dry Montlouis-sur-Loire to a sweet 2018 Montlouis Liquoreux. I also learn about the North American phylloxera insect that wiped out vineyards all across Europe in the late 1850s thanks to its accidental introduction by American sailors. Fortunately, we managed to help fix what we broke by introducing American rootstock, a type of soil resistant to the insect that’s still used today.

I’m handed over to wine expert Etienne Delannoy for the tasting. I taste six different wines, all representative of the Loire Valley. I am no wine connoisseur—and it would be a disservice to pretend I know my notes from my tannins. So I’ll just say that the wine, unsurprisingly, was good. And though my palate will never be even half as refined as a sommelier’s, I am always appreciative of the opportunity to taste the land while standing right in the middle of it.

With my taste buds buzzing in the finest flavors of the Loire Valley, I coast for another 40 minutes to Les Hautes Roches, where I’ll be spending the night. The property radiates the French luxury of American imagination with its castle-like stone architecture built into the side of a limestone cliff. I’m in room nine of 14, up a short outdoor stone staircase. Inside is a spacious suite that puts to shame some of the actual royal chambers I’ve seen thus far.

After standing at the doorway for a few minutes, not wanting to sully the place with my aura of dried sweat and imposter’s syndrome, I finally slip out of my shoes and walk a bit further into my room. I decide to embrace it all—the glitz and glam of staying at a hotel whose name I can barely pronounce—by treating myself to a hot bath. With a fresh face, I warm up in the bathrobe and spend the next couple of hours lounging about in bed.

Refreshed, I pull something out of my bag that’s a bit more worthy of Les Hautes Roches and head to dinner. The server seems surprised when, in my never-ending quest to force France to feed me vegetarian food, I point out that all of the main options are meat or fish. With apologies, I’m served a full menu that includes steamed white asparagus (‘tis the season) over a creamy hollandaise sauce and bits of cubed bread crumbs, a Neapolitan rigatoni with tomato sauce, and a luscious chocolate mousse with a garnish of toasted almonds wrapped around like a skirt. There are worse ways to end the day.

The sun is out once again after a restful night’s sleep. It’s my last day on the bike, but I don’t want to leave. One night at Les Hautes Roches and my imposter syndrome is gone.

With 42 miles to cover on the day, this will be my longest bit of cycling on the trail. Leaving the hotel in Rochecorbon, I rejoin the trail in nearby Tours, cutting through the city like a local thanks to my watch beeping directions at me. Then, with one turn, I’m suddenly out of the urban confines of sidewalk bike lanes, traffic lights, tricky intersections, and the general cacophony that comes with city life, and I’m back in the Loire countryside with white fuzz from the surrounding poplars floating gently to the ground like a batch of fresh snow.

I make it to Château de Villandry around 10 a.m. to meet with the owner, Henri Carvallo, for a quick tour of the castle. Early in the visit, I’m surprised to learn that Villandry is, arguably, a part-American castle.

Carvallo’s great-grandmother was Ann Coleman—the daughter of wealthy Irish immigrants, born in Lebanon, Pennsylvania. Ahead of her time, she was a researcher in Paris when she met her future husband, the Spaniard Joachim Carvallo. The two married in Pennsylvania, moved to France, and eventually purchased the Château de Villandry. During their lifetime, they opened sections of the castle to the public. Now, visitors can see just about everything.

I finish up with a short walk, starting among the forest paths before dipping into the gardens with views of the castle. Then, I embark on my final leg of the trip—nearly 24 miles to the Royal Fortress of Chinon. Unlike the first day, when I cycled almost exclusively on bike paths, today I’m almost always sharing the road with cars following speed limits between 30 and 45 miles per hour. Obviously, my preference would be for the solace and almost guaranteed safety of the bike-only sections, but I’m comforted by the knowledge that there are still more cyclists—both of the Lycra-clad variety and leisurely tour groups—than cars.

I’m whizzing down a hillside when I notice the sign for the Royal Fortress of Chinon. Unfortunately, I’m already committed to this descent. I loop around through the medieval heart of the city and follow directions along Rue Jeanne d’Arc (Joan of Arc Street). I imagined myself finishing with a triumphant climb back to the top of the fortress, but the path of giant, jagged stones made that impossible. By the looks of it, nobody has touched this road since Joan of Arc walked up in 1429 to meet the man she thought to be the rightful king of France, Charles VII. At just 17 years old, she convinced the 26-year-old royal to allow her to raise the siege of Orléans.

A guide greets me at the gift shop before taking me on a quick tour of the castle. She starts by noting this place has been inhabited for 3,000 years. (The beginnings of the castle didn’t come until the 10th century.) Indeed, a subtle theme of the trip has been the frequent historical reminder that this is where the Celts once lived before the Romans conquered the region.

The fortress is smaller than other castles along the way, but still well worth the visit given its connection with the always fascinating Joan of Arc and the exhibition of artifacts associated with her life. And to help bring the experience to life, you can grab a HistoPad. These tablets allow visitors to scan select locations throughout the grounds to load up an image of what it would’ve looked like in the 15th century. It does lead to some comical sights of tourists spinning around with tablets, like some kind of educational Pokémon Go, but the silliness of it all doesn’t make it any less fascinating.

It’s less than a mile down from the fortress and over the Vienne River before I hop off the bike for the last time at Hôtel Rive Sud. My timing is impeccable, with the owner pulling up just as I arrive for check-in.

In order to make my research a little more well-rounded, I decide to pause the wine, switch course, and try some of the local brew. I’m advised to check out Bras(se)fort—conveniently just down the street from my dinner reservation. I pop my head in and meet either a British man or a Frenchman with a native-British accent. He tells me they just brew and sell on site. If I want to try a cold beer, I can go next door to La Cave Voltaire.

I follow orders and grab a seat in the evening sun and try their IPA—bitter and hoppy, just what I was looking for. Not to mention, a fitting transition as my time in central France comes to an end and I prepare for my return home to Germany.