Bonsai the vineyard mule has no shoes. “This allows him to feel the soil better,” his driver explains. “The ground is gentle, but uneven and shoes would only make him unsteady.” Here in the heart of southern France’s Languedoc region, Bonsai, caramel brown and powerfully strong, seems as much a part of the dramatic, almost prehistoric looking landscape as the soil itself.
France isn’t exactly off the beaten path when it comes to tourism. For 30 years running, it’s been the most visited country on the planet. Consequently, finding a beautiful, relatively undiscovered corner of the country is not an easy task, but it’s not an impossible one.
Stretching from the Southwest border with Spain, up along the Mediterranean and bordering the Cote D’Azur, the vast Languedoc-Roussillon region is beloved of French travellers, but often overlooked by international visitors. As wine writer Jancis Robinson once remaked, “It’s Provence without the tourists.”
Wine is partly what brings me here, as well. I’m visiting as a guest of winemaker Gerard Bertrand, the man who employs Bonsai the mule.
Bertrand is a borderline mythical figure in the area. A former professional rugby player, he now owns or operates 16 Estates covering 850 hectares of vineyards and is considered the largest biodynamic wine producer in the world. Biodynamic wines are first and foremost organic, but they go beyond this by treating not only the vines and grapes but also the whole earth as a living, receptive organism.
Bertrand’s reputation as both a leader in biodynamic practices and exceptional winemaking is such that when Jon Bon Jovi and his son Jesse decided they wanted to break into the wine business it was Bertrand they turned to in order to help make that happen.
That collaboration resulted in the launch of Hampton Water, a soft pink rose built around a blend of grenache, cinsault and mourvedre. The concept might have been dismissed as a nepo baby make work project, at least until it won Wine Spectator’s best rose of the year in 2018. It’s now one of the bestselling rose wines in America.
Hampton Water might be flying off the shelves in America, but the vineyard that Bonsai the mule tends, and where I’m having lunch, produces an even rarer and more legendary wine: Clos du Temple. Considered the best rose in the world, and at $200 a bottle also one of the most expensive, it features a blend of grapes from 50-year-old vines: grenache, cinsault, syrah, mourvedre and viognier. It is a powerful, elegant wine with ripe peach, Creamsicle and jasmine aromas a lush texture and exquisite balance between acidity and minerality. Sipping it alongside fresh tuna carpaccio while overlooking the vineyard where it comes from is the stuff oenophile dreams are made of.
While Clos du Temple is magnificent, the crown jewel of Bertrand’s holdings is Chateau l’Hospitalet, a full-fledged wine resort, beach club and spa spread over 1000 glorious, vineyard covered hectares. 20 minutes outside of the city of Narbonne, situated amidst the otherworldly limestone mountain range known as La Clape and the bejewelled waters of the Mediterranean Sea.
To get to Chateau l’Hospitalet, I arrived, like most do, by flying into Toulouse and then making the two-hour drive south. We pass through the ancient city of Narbonne, founded by the Romans in 118 BC, and continue southeast through rich farmland laden with rows upon rows of vines. This is France’s oldest wine region, vines having been brought here by the Greeks in the 5th Century BC, and holds the title of both France’s largest wine producing region and its largest producer of organic wines.
After checking in I wander up between rows of ripening grapes to my room, part of the new Villa Soleilla, a set of 11 rooms and suites. Separate from the main 34 room hotel complex and restaurants, the Villa rooms feel private and personal. Elegant wooden furniture covered in olive green fabric is set off by terracotta-coloured walls and creamy travertine floors. Throwing open the double doors to my expansive patio reveals a view that stretches across tidy rows of vines all the way to the Mediterranean, sparkling and beckoning in the distance, framed by twin peaks of La Clappe.
It would be easy to spend a full week without leaving the grounds of the Chateau, wandering among the vineyards from the spa to the infinity pool, exploring the art space – a tribute to the life and work of Antoine de Saint Exupéry, on the 80th anniversary of the publication of his immortal book The Little Prince during my visit – or taking a tennis lesson, but one of France’s great beaches beckons.
Shuttles run regularly between the hotel and the seaside resort of Narbonne-Plage, 15 minutes away. Like so much of the Languedoc, the Blue Flag certified beach feels, at least for the world’s most visited country, virtually undiscovered. The three-mile-long stretch of fine sand is wide and even on a lush, early summer day, is virtually empty. I’m dropped off at the foot of a long boardwalk that meanders across the sand toward the club, a low, wood clad building with a white conical roof. Inside, the breeze makes the woven lampshades gently sway and, on the patio, dappled light filters through the shade netting while the dj spins summery French indie pop.
The drink of choice here too is rose – Bertrand’s more affordable, but every bit as quaffable Gris Blanc – and every table seems to have a magnum of the stuff chilling in an ice bucket beside it. The menu practically seems designed around this wine: marinated anchovies, slicked with good olive oil, tomato, burrata and hazelnut salad, crispy prawns with basil mayonnaise, peach melba.
After lunch, too well fed to swim for a while, I make like Bonsai, kick off my shoes and feel my way across the sand to the umbrella shaded beach bed that’s already reclined, freshly towelled and seemingly designed for napping. From where I sit, it feels as though I’ve got the whole beach to myself.