clairedavieswriter

Today I acquired my second domestique of the tour, and he really went above and beyond the job description.

First, he applied his expert knowledge to my routes, thereby mitigating the wilder eccentricities of the Garmin brothers over the next two days. Then, crucially, he whisked me over the fearsome Col de La Faucille, which would have been quite beyond my capabilities to climb. The only other option would have been to ride south via Macon, known variously as ‘the main road’ or ‘no fun at all’, depending on whether you’re in a vehicle or on a bike. Or else I could have taken the train towards Lyon. Either way, I would have missed the opportunity to experience the Jura.

So we took the scenic option, setting off from Lajoux. Bernard much preferred his first ride on a bike carrier to travelling in the bowels of a bus, and notwithstanding a few spots of rain and rumbles of thunder, we all enjoyed the first 10k along the plateau…

Followed by a whopping descent into the workaday town of Morez, which, aside from sporting an impressive viaduct, also seemed to specialise in making spectacles.

From there, our lovely voie verte followed the railway line gently uphill

Offering stunning views along the way.

Having been thoroughly lulled by the gentle gradients, Bernard and I were unprepared for the first proper challenge of the day. Harry, gentleman that he is, got off and joined us for the walk of shame. Another view awaited us at the top.

At this point, my domestique bade us farewell – but the views stayed with us:

We climbed gradually through dense forests:

But it was literally all downhill from here:

The descent was again through forests, this time with more deciduous trees, as well as tantalising glimpses of plain far below.

There was no need to book a table for lunch:

And before we knew it, we were almost at our destination.

Now, I had planned to camp tonight, but that was before I saw the storm cloud building behind me as I rolled into Bonlieu, before I overheard a lady tell someone that she was covering her car with tarpaulin ‘to protect it against the hail’, and before I heard the first rumble of thunder.

General Patton once said, “Plans must be simple and flexible.” My plan was simply to have a decent night’s sleep, ideally not in a puddle. So I checked into a hotel.

I am once again the only customer, mainly because they’re actually closed tonight, but gave me a room anyway. Luckily I brought food for supper.

As I write, the rain is sluicing down, accompanied by thunder and lightning. Call me a fair weather camper if you like – it’s water off a duck’s back.

As always, we saw some curiosities en route:

Bernard was a bit put out that only walkers and horses seemed to be welcome at this wayside inn:

But all was forgiven when he was ushered into his luxury accommodation in the hotel dining room tonight.

Tomorrow, we may have another go at camping, but I’m staying flexible.