Alsace-Lorraine

13 September

Continuing the military theme, the D964 from Sedan to Verdun follows the line of the Western Front at the Armistice of 11 November 1918. Cemeteries line either side of the road: white crosses for the Allied forces on the western side, black for the Germans on the eastern. Spot the symbolism.

More than a century later, there are few better places to be than aboard a Ducati Panigale V2 on a chilly autumn morning, as the sun burns off the mist to reveal a splendid, undulating ribbon of tarmac.

I first rode it twenty years ago and have repeated the exercise perhaps a dozen times since. On each occasion, there has rarely been any traffic—and never a trace of the Gendarmerie. A true hidden gem in the increasingly crowded and over-regulated landscape your grandfather might warily have called “The Continent.”

Likewise, the D27 cuts its way through the Moselle and the Lorraine Regional Natural Park. Apart from the occasional dawdling local in a dilapidated Deux Che Vauxs (Citroën 2CV) or a clapped-out Renault Clio, you can often have it entirely to yourself. Kilometre after kilometre of gently curving minor roads unfold, bordered by sparse hedgerows and neat farmland. Every ten minutes or so, an attractive, quiet town appears, perched on the crest of a low hill—an invitation to slow down and stretch your legs.

Emerging at Sarrebourg, the satnav plots a route to the overnight stop at the excellent Hôtel Restaurant Auberge Metzger in Natzwiller. My only complaint is that it is so fiendishly difficult to book. Logis, Booking.com, and even the hotel’s own website invariably show it as “unavailable”, even months in advance. The only reliable method, it seems, is to enlist a bilingual, pedantic schoolteacher of your acquaintance to call on your behalf and secure a room.

Hotel Restaurant Auberge Metzger in Natzwiller

The Madame of the establishment then écrit dans le livre, and you’re all set. No email confirmation, no deposits, no bullshit text messages telling you how thrilled they are to have you stay.

Nothing. Just arrive to a welcome steeped in elaborate courtesy, a sumptuous regional meal, the sleep of the dead on a heavenly mattress in pitch-black silence, and a simple but perfect breakfast the next morning.

Madame’s three-year-old grandson was sat on the reception desk while his grand-mère checked me out and presented me with a drawing he had just completed—to accompany a not inconsiderable addition.

The road to Natzwiller is another marvel: the 30-kilometre D993. Starting near Vallerysthal, it includes the Col du Dononand carries you over a low summit—complete with switchbacks—in the foothills of the Vosges Mountains. At Vallerysthal, there is also the Musée de la 2CV for those so inclined.

I didn’t visit: like the first Land Rover, the Morris Minor, and even the original Mini, I find the appeal of these primitive contraptions somewhat mystifying—though I can appreciate their place as important artefacts.

What does appeal is the hopelessly unattainable “other end” of the automotive evolutionary spectrum: Bugatti. The factory is close by in Molsheim, and the roads in the Vosges are used for test drives—a showcase for what €1M-plus buys you.

But these same roads are open to all. The improbably named Wangenbourg-Engenthal makes an excellent base. From there, explore the routes that radiate outwards for a superb short touring loop. And all within a day’s ride of Calais.