clairedavieswriter

Today could have been quite different – that is to say, quite unpleasant. I awoke to the sound of rain hammering against the windows, and again thanked my lucky stars that this tiny village had a hotel, and that they’d let me stay, even when they were closed (till Wednesday it turns out). In hindsight, I think I should elevate the manager to guardian angel status.

Improbably, Météo France suggested the rain would stop by 11am. Even more improbably, I was on the road before 9.30, wearing my rain jacket, but only for warmth – it was 13 degrees and properly chilly on the knees and fingers, but mercifully dry. Hard to believe it had been over 30 just three days ago.

Guillaume had promised that today’s ride would be gloriously downhill, and he did not exaggerate.

For the first hour or so, we pedalled – or freewheeled – away from the Jura through lush meadows, under threatening skies

We started to see glimpses of blue – enough to make a pair of sailor’s trousers, Kate?

Then, all of a sudden, the rain was forgotten, and poppies added a painterly touch.

The Jura kept on giving…

After 20k, we joined the voie verte marked “PLM” on the map. An information board explained that it followed the line of the old Paris-Lyon-Méditerranée railway. It had some surprises in store.

It started conventionally enough, with a well surfaced path and trees meeting majestically overhead.

Occasionally, it opened up, offering stunning views to the south and east.

Then this rather forbidding maw hoved into view. I switched on my light, took a deep breath, and plunged in…

And this happened! It had movement sensitive lighting…

It turned out to be just the first of a whole series of structures that had helped the railway remain high above the valley below.

Halfway along, we emerged from a tunnel to be presented with this view:

The longest tunnel came last – at one point, I met a transit van going to other way.

We emerged to another spectacular view – this was the old station esplanade at Conliège

There was only one tricky bit: I could have done with a domestique to help me down this steep flight of steps:

At 40k I stopped for lunch in the substantial town of Lons le Saunier, and then it was onto another voie verte – this time the Bressane – which took me all the way to my destination on traffic free paths.

It’s amazing what a difference 10 degrees makes: unlike my afternoons in the Auvergne, this was a lovely ride. For some reason I found myself singing Norah Jones’ The Long Way Home…

By 4pm I’d arrived in Louhans, with its charming main street, arcaded on both sides, and a church with colourful roof tiles, similar to those I recall in Beaune. Sorry no pictures – you’ll have to Google or imagine!

The weather looks fine for tonight and tomorrow morning, and I didn’t want to flunk my last chance to camp..

Bernard is giving me wistful looks about warm dining rooms, but it’s not a bad spot, provided the frogs pipe down before bedtime.

The Baron joined me for dinner but wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

Maybe he’s holding out for Singles Night…