From the Loire via Dijon and the Jura to Genève

  Dijon, The Jura, Gex, France
Thursday, July 7, 2005

Chapter Summary
After leaving the Loire, I headed towards Dijon, caught the Dukes festival and then over the Jura to Gex, near Genève


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Over the Jura


Struck by lightning
29th June, Wednesday
Start point: Beaulieu-sur-Loire (near Gien)
End point: Clamcy, South of Auxerre
Via: -
Odom(Km): 80.5
Moving(hrs.mim): 5.00
Ave(Km/h): 14.2
Total Ascent(m): 620
Max Altitude(m) 320
Max Speed(Km/h): 52.1

I've been caught in Asian tropical rainstorms before, but I didn't expect this in France. What hit me was extreme and was the sort of thing that makes people stop and come to the window to watch. If they did they would see a drowned rat on a bicycle sporting a florescent top. I didn't put my waterproof bottoms on and when I realized I should have it was too late. Stopping to open my pannier would have drenched everything else. I had to continue and ride it out. Oddly, I was quite enjoying it. I climbed a bit of a hill and as I approached the top it was then conditions got serious. Now I was in a rather dangerous situation. Every couple of seconds a blinding flash of lightning followed fractions of a second later by what could only be described as an almighty crack of thunder. The combination of pea size rain drops and fierce wind stripped clusters of leaves from the trees and scattered them on the road. At the top of the hill I looked around. I was the highest object on the hill sitting on a metallic bicycle surrounded by cornfields devoid of trees in the middle of a lightning storm. I started to get worried so I put my head down and peddled like crazy over the top down and into a village a short distance below. I aimed for the church to seek refuge but was gestured into a small hotel where I stood with the staff near the entrance peering in amusement at the sheer volume of water coming down, ferocity of the wind and frequency of lightning strikes. I did what any normal person would do in such a situation, I drank coffee and ate chocolate until the worst was over. Continued through weather beaten countryside with the road covered in debris and in places crops flattened. A few days ago it was 34 in the shade and now my temperature gauge showed 14. Continued without stopping to the next town with a campsite and dried off there. The evening turned out quite pleasant and allowed me to explore the town of Clamecy, with its character full medieval quarter. No grants to renovate have been applied for, and you could tell. The place was falling down, but there was a lively buzz.


Clamcy

National park and abbey
30th June, Thursday
Start point: Clamcy, South of Auxerre
End point: Saulieu (80Km east of Dijon)
Via: Vezelay
Odom(Km): 90
Moving(hrs.mim): 7.00
Ave(Km/h): 12.5
Total Ascent(m): 1350
Max Altitude(m) 658
Max Speed(Km/h): 47

The weather forecast was not all that good; it gave me a second chance to work out how to ride in the rain without getting trapped in a hotel, only venturing out to wring excess water from my socks.
Packed and made it into town by 11.30 to search for the elusive email / internet. In a town with a population of about 10 000, you would have thought that somewhere you could buy time on a computer. No. I asked around, targeting the young folk and they all pointed me in the same direction, a bar / tabac with a computer. The owner allowed customers to use it for free, but alas it wasn't working.
Continued to Vezelay, a hilltop town with a Norman Basilica built 1096-1135. I say a hilltop town because it was a 100 meter climb to reach it. On entry to the town a restaurant spontaneously applauded my efforts - no getting off and pushing now I thought. Ambled around the cavernous and reasonably well lit interior. Down in the crypt there was a model of a woman dressed in a medieval outfit kneeling on the stone floor in prayer. I moved closer to look at the costume and she moved. I jumped and soon realised that she was in fact a nun, not made of wood and very much alive!
Admired the view from the top and descended on my way eastward bound. Crossed the entire Parc National Regional du Morvan. My first taste of some real hills. I'm sure it was lovely but when it rains hard it is difficult to appreciate these things. Didn't stop till arriving at the campsite. Miraculously my socks were dry. Mission accomplished.


Abbey at Vezelay


Entrance to the Abbey at Vezelay


Logs from the park

Its my 30th Birthday today
01 July, Friday
Start point: Saulieu (80Km east of Dijon)
End point: Dijon
Odom(Km): 81.5
Moving(hrs.mim): 5.04
Ave(Km/h): 16.1
Total Ascent(m): 607
Max Altitude(m) 532
Max Speed(Km/h): 46.3

A search for the internet lead me to a crappy apple Mac. I could only get hotmail working so I spent the first half of the day fighting the browser, difficult when all error messages are in French. This block of updates will have to wait until I get to Dijon. Set off from Saulieu at 14.00 through a mix of wood, rolling hills and ancient farmsteads.
Arriving at Dijon there was a dire shortage of placements for the weekend. I paired up with two young inter-railers, Simon and Dennis from Copenhagen. I was amazed at their faultless English. "We picked it up watching TV, it's all subtitled", Dennis explained. After our feed we headed off into town. "It's your 30th birthday, we have to drink beer". Although both just recovering from a hangover and broke after a night out in Paris, they were up for it. I went ahead on bike to do a reconnaissance and Simon and Dennis followed on foot. Found a stretch of seedy, cheap bars and 20 minutes later we were sipping cold beer listening to Latino music. After a number of laughs we headed back to the campsite, late and rather wobbly. A fine way to mark my Birthday.


Chateau en-route

The Dukes Palace
02 July, Saturday
Start point: Dijon
End point: Dijon
No cycling - other than in and around Dijon

I breakfasted with my Danish inter-rail companions, who set off in search of some rural French life by hopping on the local train. I guess city fatigue was starting to set in, that's when they all start blurring together. I left my gear in the tent and headed into the town centre. Dijon is a vibrant, accessible and interesting town. It was the capital of Burgundy until in 1361 when its ruler died without an air. The French king, Jean II simply handed the duchy to one of his younger sons and thus started a new line of illustrious Dukes. Many of the buildings of interest date from this period and I went to see 'The Dukes palace', where court was held. My visit coincided with a the 'Festival of the Dukes', where all things medieval were on display such as music, art, craftsmanship, costume, agriculture, food, talks and banquets (by appointment).
The building that was the Dukes palace is now a collection of public buildings and includes the museum of fine arts. I spent a few hours examining, reading, learning and forgetting lots of information. The banqueting hall contains a fine tomb of the duke and artefacts from a church near by. Afterwards I did my usual back street roam. I went to the tourist board and asked about internet access. Dijon has two cafes, a booth at the train station, the other about 1Km away. Since I needed to plug things into the PC, update maps on my GPS, resize pictures and generally do the sort of stuff a booth quite rightly restricts you from doing. I went in search of the out of town cafe. It was not where the tourist information marked on my map. I asked around, followed rumours, denials and mixed up directions. I ended up stumbling upon it on it and I sat down for a few hours and replied to emails, updated my journal, extracted the entire track log of the holiday so far from my GPS as it had understandably run out of memory to store them. Checked weather forecast and lot of other equally small and time consuming jobs. Lucky the cafe closed at 19.00 and like most of these establishments it was empty, just me and the owner. The gamers started to arrive at about 17.00, but thankfully used headphones. My computer fix satisfied, I hopped back on the bike for more of a roam. In a park was a free live concert. The tent was not big but the atmosphere inside made up for that. Everyone including myself was captivated his singing, keyboard skills, whistling and jokes. I tried taking a picture, but my useless HP camera failed and I was unable to reproduce anywhere near the quality of shots that everyone else was taking around me. I'm seriously thinking of buying a new one and if I spot the Casino model, I will. Continued on my tour, watched some live salsa with a 3 musicians. I couldn't tell if the dancers were moving in time to the music or if the musicians were playing to the rhythm of the dancers. I guess a bit of both. Either way they all received a rapturous applause at the end of each set.
Headed back along the canal towards the tent. It was pitch black so put my bright lights on. Near the campsite I heard voices from a bench, approaching I could see a bunch of teenagers looking very subdued, "What is going on?", I enquired sternly in French. They soon realised I wasn't the police and soon we were drinking white wine with crème de cassis (cherry) and desperados (beer and tequila mixers). I shared my wine and crisps. Their parents, teachers, were away and they had taken it upon themselves to get horrendously and outrageously drunk. Not wanting to miss some funny photo opportunities, I stuck around practiced my French while they practiced their English. At the end of it I was rather tipsy too, waved goodbye and continued back to my tent. The Copenhagen lads were back from their local train tour and ready for bed. I kept them awake for just a bit longer with my drunken rants and when they'd had enough I updated my journal. Done, and bed!


Dijon back street life


Gargoyles on the front of the Cathedral, Dijon


Dukes tomb


Carved scene near by the dukes tomb


Teenage drinking buddies

Bishop, bless this bike
03 July, Sunday
Start point: Dijon
End point: Baume-les-Messieurs (Near Lons-le-Saunier)
Via:
Odom(Km): 107.5
Moving(hrs.mim): ??
Ave(Km/h): ??
Total Ascent(m): ??
Max Altitude(m) ??
Max Speed(Km/h): ??

On my way through Dijon I caught day 2 of the festival of the Dukes. I got a bishop to bless my bike and saw some medieval costumed dancing. Purchased provisions from the shop, not because I needed them, but because it was Sunday and I could. Followed the canal out of the city and soon I was in the countryside. The architecture had changed dramatically. The churches reminded me more of those in the Austrian Tirol valley with their delicate wooden spires. Gone were the giant imposing stone edifices of the Loire valley. The houses are bigger and detached with more of the Alpine feel. I guess more space for those long winter evenings. My route continued on flat fertile ground through fields of corn, sunflower and cann_abis. Yes, you read correctly. The biggest hemp cultivation operation I'd ever seen. I just had to stop and take some pictures and well, take some too.
Rising up in the distance and getting ever closer, the limestone mountains of the Jura, the first real mountains I have come across. Followed the edge until I reached a point where a river broke through and created a deep channel with sheer cliffs either sides. It was very Lord of the Rings, without the towering statues.. The first campsite was near a small village that nestled in the steep valley by the river. I pitched and got chatting to 3 other cycle tourers. They were students, now on holiday visiting a friend who lived deep in the mountains. It was about a 3 day trip on the bike for them - maybe two as they seemed to be covering quite a lot of ground. We were going to venture into town for Pizza, but news soon came back that nothing except an expensive restaurant was open. All not wanting to fork out vast amounts for small amounts of food, I suggested we pool all the food we did have, (of which they didn't have much) and see if a meal for four can be rustled up. Since I had the stove and plenty of supplies, we didn't go hungry. Starters, vegetable soup followed by lentils and sausages seasoned with herbs with mash potato. Dessert was biscuits, bread with chocolate and of course... wine. Well fed and ready for bed we retired for the night.


A town square, Dijon


Bishop gave me his blessings...


More costumed festivities, Dukes festival.


Sunday scene on the backstreets of Dijon


It was like being watched by a thousand faces


Cann_abis, hemp crop

Unplanned detour
04 July, Monday
Start point: Baume-les-Messieurs (Near Lons-le-Saunier)
End point: Chancia (Near Oyonnax)
Via: 'Cirque de Baume'
Odom(Km): 107.5
Moving(hrs.mim): ??
Ave(Km/h): ??
Total Ascent(m): ??
Max Altitude(m) ??
Max Speed(Km/h): ??

Waved goodbye to the 3 bikers, finished breakfast, slapped on the sun cream, insect repellent (good for fending off flies that drink your sweat), shorts and was prepared for a hard hot slog in the mountains. What I got was unexpected but to be expected. No sooner has I set off the clouds came in, the thunder rumbled and out came the jumpers, waterproofs and gloves and the rain. It was a downpour for most of the day, finishing late afternoon. Shortly before the heavens opened I was treated to an interesting surprise. As usual I asked my GPS to take me to a near by town following quiet ROADS on the way to where I wanted to get to. Immediately coming out the campsite my route followed the floor of a gorge, a giant gouge in the ground with sheer cliffs to my left and right and ahead, some distance it came to an abrupt end - again, in cliffs. Checked the GPS, yes there was indeed a road called 'E2' that would climb up and out of what now looked like a giant natural amphitheatre. I came to the turning, Beep, turn left onto 'E2' flashed up. I stopped. That can't be it... can it? E2 was a not a road but an overgrown rock scramble with steps 200 meters up the cliff side. According to my GPS, at the top of 'E2' was a hotel. I asked a man collecting the tickets to visit some underground caves how to get to the hotel. He looked at my heavily laden bike and laughed. "Over there is the footpath to the hotel at the top, but you will not get up there with a bike". I turned tail and sped back to the campsite to seek an alternate root thinking the detour had been worth the spectacle, and the look on the mans face when I asked how to get to the hotel. Later consultation with my map verified it was called 'Cirque de Baume', a geological wonder where upper layers of limestone undermined by the action of the water create what is called a 'blind valley'. I remember visiting one in Yorkshire when I was young, but this was on a far bigger scale, and it had a souvenir stall at the base. Carried on through the rain to a dam supplying hydroelectric power. The water was deep turquoise, the rocks purple, dark green and the sky black. A this point my batteries were flat and I couldn't take any pictures - but taking off gloves and stopping in the rain to take pictures was not my priority. I pressed on to a campsite at the base of a lake. It was very quiet and gave me a chance to wash and dry my damp cloths. Explored the near by town but not much was going on. The weather was hardly drawing the crowds. Retired and slept to the sound of pitter patter on the tent.


'Cirque de Baume', a blind valley of limestone

05 July, Tuesday
Start point: Chancia (Near Oyonnax)
End point: Embossieux (Miles from anywhere. In the Jura)
Via: Oyonnax
Odom(Km): 107.5
Moving(hrs.mim): ??
Ave(Km/h): ??
Total Ascent(m): 900
Max Altitude(m) 1260
Max Speed(Km/h): ??

In the morning I continued to the next big town to buy a map for my next leg, only to arrive as the shops were shutting. Luckily and very recently the large supermarkets don't shut from 12.00 - 14.30 during the day. I headed to Champion, one of the chains and purchased lunch but no map. Shared lunch and chatted to a shady character on a grassy knoll until the shops opened. Father from Palermo in Sicily and had separated from has mother when he was young. He quickly descended into a life of drugs and drug dealing where he was now making a profitable living. A police car pulled up near by and he made a quick exit. The asked if he was hassling me, but I told them the truth, "Its OK, we were just talking". "Interesting character", I added. The police officer nodded and smiled wryly.
I noticed a bike shop across the road and decided to take it in as the bearings on the front headset (steering) needed replacing. Water ingress had caused them to rust and make a disconcerting cracking noise. Not a small job, but not an urgent one either. He said I need to take it to a Cannondale dealer and recommended one on the other side of the Jura. A bit of a backtrack but I relished the challenge of a few hills. By this point town was open so I purchased the map and brought it back to the shop. He suggested a route to take. Clearly jealous at the fact I was the one going to follow it, not him. "Come with me", I suggested. He gestured at the shop and said he wanted to, but can't. I set off on the way to 'Les Rousses' over mountain passes and through ski resorts, somewhat lacking in skiers, and snow for that matter. The sun actually shone for and hour or so. My mini-mission within a mission spurred me on. A long climb took me into the cool mountains and the odd rain shower. It was distinctly colder and towards the end of the day the jumper and gloves were out. My map listed every campsite, including the one I stopped at which didn't even have a camping sign outside. It was a Gîte d'Etape, a log cabin that had dorms, separate rooms and a warm and pleasant seating area with long benches and thick wooden tables. The place oozed character. It was a combination of the setting, the low ceilings, the owner, the furniture, the dog and other guests. Camping was slightly up uphill and offered precious few flat spaces. First contact was with Coraline and Jean-Bernard, a friendly and instantly likable french couple. We arranged to meet in that was termed 'The Refuge' or the log cabin. You know when you are in for some extreme camping then listed on facilities is not a swimming pool, mini golf or table tennis, but 'A Refuge'. Next was Maurice from Geneva, about to relocate to Spain and out to test his gear in the mountains, including a very robust LandRover. Again, he said he was on his way to the refuge to meet Coralie and Jean-B. I pitched, cooked and made my way indoors. Like most they watched with a combination of amazement and disgust at the quantity of food I was pushing down. Only two full mess tins a day and a bit of bread and soup for lunch has to take me, my bike and loaded bags 100Km across mountains climbing 100's of meters a day and must keep me warm. It's not much food when you look at it that way. In my opinion, the body is a very efficient food to energy converter. Others call it - just being greedy.
A number of laughs later, mostly at my French, we went up the hill to bed where it was a chilly 9 Degrees. Time to sleep in jumper and trousers tonight!


A mountain village in the Jura


Buffalo or Bison???????????


Stay and it gets cold in these parts

Switzerland - but not for long...
06 July, Wednesday
Start point: Embossieux (Miles from anywhere. In the Jura)
End point: Gex (Near Geneva)
Via: Les Rousse
Odom(Km): 71.7
Moving(hrs.mim): 4.35
Ave(Km/h): 15.6
Total Ascent(m): 756
Max Altitude(m) 1263
Max Speed(Km/h): 48.0

Shared porridge and coffee with Coralie and Jean-Bernard who where psyching themselves up for a days walk in the mountains. The only thing putting them off was the weight of food in their stomachs and the constant drizzle - which is why we retreated into the warmth of the refuge to eat. We seemed to wave everyone else off until we were the only ones left without an excuse. I packed away and said goodbye to Maurice who was taking his regular morning doses of espresso. He suggested we meet up in Genève where he currently lives. I was waved off into the rain with my wet weather gear on and made exceptionally good progress. Infact the route the shop keeper in Oyonnax drew on the map traversed the entire Jura on quiet roads in one long steady climb, most of which had been done the day before. I'm sure I missed out on some spectacular views as I was well and truly in the cloud base. Most of the ski resorts I passed through had the usual measure of 1970's ugliness. Arriving at the shop I quickly realised I had taken good advice. It was a Cannondale distributor with a large repair area. I described my predicament. The reply was, "Look around you, we are hardly going to get many customers today because of the rain and cold". Indeed I was the only customer and the two mechanics were just building new bikes for stock. Soon mine was disassembled while I drank coffee and browsed. After lunch the bike was repaired, serviced and ready. Set off with everything back to normal and time to spare to make it over the Swiss border, where due to the altitude difference the temperature would be a few degrees warmer with less rain. The mountain forecast from the bike shop was 7 degrees during the day and who knows what at night! I decided to make a break for it. Following the 'Col (pass) de la Givrine' I was treated to a spectacular view of a 600 meter drop to the flat plain below where the lake and the city of Geneva with its famous jet of water were clearly visible. The sky above was in turmoil and added drama to the spectacle. The decent was a series of hairpin bends and I thanked the recent service for improved breaking performance. Most traffic was crossing from Switzerland to France so I was able to take up the whole lane, snatching glimpses through the trees without anyone overtaking the whole way down. No sooner had I got to the bottom, I was back in France again. How could this be? The fact is that most of the border crossings are not situated on the actual border but at strategic locations on the east / west mountain passes over the Jura and down into the valley. The actual border extends to parts of the valley below and includes large French towns such as Gex, where border control would be impossible. In the valley below a change of border is a clear sign and a change in road signs. Back were the 'Marie', or Mayors offices of the villages and towns - an unmistakably a French thing.
Mayors offices are an odd thing, all towns and cities have one and most tiny villages have one too. They are a centre of community, a place for coordination of activities, a good idea but a perfect nest for bureaucracy and power building. I have stayed in villages that have no baker, butcher, post - nothing, except a handful of houses and 'La Marie'. Sometimes linked to a school where presumably the headmaster can perform such a role. It shouldn't be forgotten that they also have authority outside the village and into the surrounding countryside where they deal with planning applications and other such bureaucratic exercises.
As I still had Euros, I chose a campsite in Gex, but a 21.00 the office closed is closed. I found the owner who happily obliged my request to pay for the night and opened the offices especially for me. In France they will do anything for someone on a bike. My last night in France and an attitude I hope to see more of in Switzerland, Germany and Austria.


Coralie and Jean-Bernard in 'The Refuge'


People often ask what do you do when it rains? How do you keep dry? See above!


Heading through the misty Jura


Job well done, my very competent bike mechanic


France, Swiss border crossing.


View from the top of 'Col de la Givrine', looking out over Switzerland


The valley below

Duck for lunch
07 July, Thursday
Start point: Gex (Near Geneve)
End point: Gex
Via:
Little distance covered

Designated a day off due to unsettled weather conditions. Camp chores and then down to the lake at Versoix for a picnic on the beach. Tame ducks did everything but jump into my soup; I don't think I'll go hungry here.
As I use a solar battery charger they are all now flat. It doesn't work in the rain and a silly mistake meant I lost 4 days of journal entries, so I bought some batteries and retyped them back in.
Returning back to Gex, the road I took was closed to traffic in the evening. It was a pleasant ride over the border and back to the tent. Tried phoning Maurice to arrange a meet up for tomorrow morning but no answer. I'll try again in Geneva.


lake at Versoix, tame ducks did everything but jump into my soup