Almost all my bike trips in France have had a common element: they start in a train station. When I spent my summers as a European cycle tour guide, my employer was a firm believer in using the extensive and (mostly) efficient French railway system as much as possible. I have spent countless hours on French platforms re-assembling bikes, shuttling luggage and pointing folks in (hopefully) the right direction.

Thus, my bike ride on the Right Bank in Bordeaux begins in the railway station of a town that does not receive much fanfare, Libourne. It is not Libourne’s fault, per se, that it is largely ignored by most tourists in the region; it is a lovely town, with a charming center and one of the best market days in region. It is definitely worth a quick visit. Most people (including me), however, just breeze on through, not even pausing for a quick selfie as they head for the Right Bank giants, Pomerol and Saint Émilion.

The ride from Libourne to Pomerol is brief, really brief, as in you-will-barely-even-break-a-sweat-when-you-arrive-at-Pétrus kind of brief. It’s a mere five kilometers to Pétrus, makers of one of the most sought-after wines in the world, where “all sweaty” would be considered gauche. That is, of course, if they would let you into the place. They won’t. I’ve tried. Neither will Cheval Blanc, which is just a bit further down the road, unless maybe your name is Paul Giamatti (but I doubt they would even let him in). Both wineries are worthy of a ride-by, I guess, for no other reason that you could imagine what it would be like to taste two of the most iconic Merlot blends on the planet. Or you could just marvel at how unbelievably snooty the French can be and mutter some expletive under your breath. I usually opt for the latter.

There are several wineries where you can taste in Pomerol, but remember a few key points. 1). They are a bit spread out, so plan on 2-3 visits max. 2). Most have now followed the lead of their Californian counterparts and charge a tasting fee (although still very moderate by Napa standards). 3). If you are, indeed, on a bike, remember that spitting is your friend, your very, very dear friend. There are really far too many wineries from which to choose, but some of my favorites include: Mazeryes, Taillefer, and Tailhas, but that is just me.

The good news is that Saint-Émilion, which is a much more compelling town, is a scant 6km (less than four miles) away, requires one “turn” (it is more of a merge) and directional signs are everywhere. Getting lost riding between the two titans of the Right Bank is virtually impossible, unless, of course, you don’t spit and end up in a ditch. I’ll tell you again: spit.

Besides, you want to arrive in Saint Émilion sober; the town is built into a hill with some steep cobblestone roads and, well, quite a few tourists at various levels of inebriation. None of that bodes well for a person perched precariously on a velocipede. And Saint-Émilion deserves your attention. It is not very big, but it is not very easy to navigate, particularly on a bike. Still, it is truly one of the more impressive towns in France. From its monolithic 11th Century church, which is entirely carved from a limestone cliff (one of the must-visit churches in all of France), the Les Grandes Murailles (the last remaining wall of a 12th Century monastery), to the Cloître des Cordeliers (visit the caves, taste the bubbles). Then there are the restaurants; Saint-Émilion has a population of around 1,600 people, and it has six Michelin starred restaurants. Oh, and let’s not forget the wine. The town has 50 specialized wine shops.

So there is plenty to do, see, and taste in Saint-Émilion for the oenophile, but I know what you are thinking: this “bike trip” encompasses a whopping eleven kilometers, not even seven miles, which, if you put your mind to it, could be covered in about two hours on foot. For those looking for a little more, well, cycling, Saint-Émilion is perched a few kilometers from the Dordogne River, which boasts some of the most stunningly beautiful rides I have done in France. The lazy, meandering waterway is dotted with private castles, medieval towns, the occasional sandy beach, and classic French charm.

Take a week (or two) and end up in Rocamador, truly one of the more remarkable towns you will ever visit.

Or just stay in Saint-Émilion and stare at your bike as you crack open another Grand Cru Classé with your third (or is it the fourth?) magret de canard.

No one is keeping score, you’re on vacation, after all.