From Pilot Magazine dated  1998

In beautiful Burgundy there's a château-hôtel  with its own strip where visiting pilots are quite preposterously pampered. Brendan McNutt flew there.

SO, YOU ARE going to fly to France, have lunch and come home. Why be so hard on yourself? Stay . overnight – or longer! Take your wife, your girlfriend, your boss or whoever else you wish to lavish with this unforgettable indulgence. But be sure that your companion has a capacity for pleasure and a love of people, food and good wine. In the rolling hills of Burgundy, amongst the ancient woods, the cornfields, vineyards and pretty red-tiled villages sits a gem for aviators. Château La Chassagne nestles gently beside its 700-metre grass Runway 06/24. For British flyers prepared to venture a little further into France than the well-flown luncheon destinations on the coast, the rewards are stunning and unexpected. As always with travel, the most memorable moments relate to people, and at Château La Chassagne it is the people who plant the fond memories.

This begins from the time you telephone or fax Marc Francis Bach, to receive details of the airfield, hotel and restaurant. The perfect English spoken by Marc Francis and his senior staff lends a special ease to making plans. Once you have supplied your details by fax and have been accepted to land at the strip (you must have 250 hours minimum) you are ready to go. We did this the day before, and it took just minutes for Marc Francis to respond to our enquiry and request. There were three of us in the aircraft, all pilots. Our departure point was Welshpool. Three hours five minutes later, with ten minutes to run, we were calling Checkpoint Charlie (the château’s callsign, on 123.0) to announce our arrival. With QFE and runway in use advised, and a reminder about pilot’s discretion, we joined overhead for 24, then tumed into the late afternoon sun sitting at the far end of the runway. With no wind, a more discreet approach would have been to 06, out of the sun and over the electricity wires on the threshold. But never mind the landing – in fact both of them were OK, but it left a lot of nifty footwork to stop a Saratoga (PA-32) in about 400 metres. The first surprise, after the one about the sun-obscured threshold, was positioned for us at the end of Runway 24. Marc, the director of the hotel and an ex-French Navy pilot, was waiting for us in the most remarkable ’Follow Me’ vehicle anywhere in the world. We taxied in behind his immacuiate Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow for 200 metres over the dry limestone/grass taxiway. By the time he had marshalled us to park and we had closed down, out from the Rolls had appeared a champagne bucket, four glasses, some fascinating regalia and an ancient military sword.

We were welcomed with the broad smile and enthusiastic handshake of a man who enjoys association with other pilots and their planes. This was the man who brought his old passion to his new work by engineering a runway at the back of his refurbished hotel, and now welcomes pilots from around Europe. And so after much handshaking, head-shaking and good-humoured ribbing at our appalling landing, the ceremony began. As pilot in command (a dubious privilege under the circumstances) I was invited to open the champagne. Caressing the ice-cold bottle Marc Francis respectfully pointed out the seam on the back of the bottle running up to the thick-stepped top. With a reverential sweep of the sword he demonstrated how I was to open the bottle in the time-honoured military tradition of a nation defined by its love of good wine.

On the third attempt, with a flourishing sweep of the sword, off shot the whole glass top of the bottle – wire, cap, cork and glass intact, and followed by that most luscious of all white, spurting frothy stuff. Now that I was initiated into the exclusive Club Cremant de la Confrdrie the regalia of the order was ceremoniously draped around my neck on chain and ribbon. One deeply dished medallion served also as the vessel for the first sip of champagne – a triumphant cup celebrated loudly by all. By the time the bottle was empty and the landing had been reviewed several more times, we were loaded into the deep English leather of the Silver Shadow and driven the 200 metres to the chhteau door. Now where on earth do you receive a welcome like that on an airfield? (Answers on a postcard to Pilot please!)

Oh, and no landing fee! The accommodation, facilities, food and attention that we were to enjoy elicited yet more superlatives. The chateau stands in forty hectares of woodland, park and gardens. It was completely refurbished recently, and provides the comforts of modernity whilst maintaining the style, elegance and architectural excellence of times past, when the builders and designers of large houses understood quality better than their successors. Our loquacious host registered us at the check-in desk, whilst the ivories of a baby grand mysteriously played Mozart without a pianist.

We accepted the offer of more champagne, followed by a pre- dinner sauna, after settling into the beautifully appointed and very reasonably priced rooms. Because the sauna/gym/recreation barn is 200 metres from the main house we were invited to ride in the Rolls again. We were getting used to this pampering, and rued the circumstances that allowed us only one night at the chateau. With so much to see and do a weekend would be the minimum future stay.

The chateau has a carriage and horses for rent, bicycles for guests’ use, a 1970s VW Beetle convertible for daily rent, its own luxurious canal barge-hotel and restaurant, a golf driving range, swimming pool and helicopter pad. Local flying trips and helicopter rides can be arranged, as well as wine buying sorties by plane to local private vineyard strips. And in between all of this your host will never tire of talking planes and flying. Within the chateau the twelve rooms vary from the very comfortable de luxe rooms to luxurious suites at reasonable prices. Most bathrooms are massive, and all the comforts of an excellent hotel are provided.

The restaurant is a gastronomic experience which even in France could be regarded as exceptional, with a variety of menus priced for every pocket that finds its way there. When it is time to leave, today’s Rolls is a Silver Wraith, which slides you smoothly from the front door to the parking area – and the chef d’equipe will wait like a member of your own family to wave you off as you taxi. Leaving Chateau La Chassagne is a bitter-sweet parting, knowing that another visit is inevitable to both renew freshly made friendships and to indulge in a wider variety of its treasures than is possible in one short night.