Month: August 2021

We woke early and got downstairs quickly (well quickly for us anyway). Despite a poor night sleep for me due to some flies and mosquitoes in the room, I felt pretty good after some coffee and bread and toast.

Day46 Morning Update

We left to another cool morning but it was significantly warmer at this lower altitude than it had been the last few mornings.

The sunrise was brilliant and colorful and lit up Mont Blanc like a beacon in the distance. As our host mentioned last evening Mont Blanc is the “cream on the top” of the summer alps.

The morning wove through small suburban villages and corn fields. But for the second straight day the path was mostly downhill so it went quickly.

Eating lunch today under a tree was relaxing but a bit cool with a coming wind. We feasted on grocery store salad and a pasta dish. You can only eat so many sandwiches.

Unfortunately most of the rest of the day was walking through the extensive suburbs of Lausanne. Walking into a city often means walking through industrial areas and poorly kept areas that are often trashy. The walk into Lausanne was no exception. Some of the time it was along a nice creek at least.

After a couple of hours into the city limits we decided to detour from the VF and cut off 5km. We wove our way through the city streets to our destination.

We booked the nights stay at the Jeunotel which is the city youth hostel. This place is huge and felt quite empty when we arrived. That soon changed however when bus-load after bus-load of teens (school kids) began arriving. The place is loud and hopping now.

We’d always intended to mail our tent and a few other items back from the last stop in France. That turned out to be Saturday however so that plan was scrapped. We did manage to get to the post office here in Lausanne however and that chore is done. So we’re officially tentless now. The bonus is that our packs are also lighter just in time for our Alpine crossing in a few days.

As part of our post office trip we negotiated the bus and underground metro services in town. I’m always a bit intimidated by bus lines for some reason. I’ve never had a bad experience, but even in London I tend to avoid them. I wonder why? The underground metro in town is the world’s steepest and moving from the train to the platform is disorienting for a second. Our chore completed we headed back to the hostel.

There is no kitchen here in Jeunotel, but they do offer a cheap meal. I think that will be our destination. The experience here will make up for living high-on-the-hog the last few nights. I’d take a picture but somehow I think an image of cafeteria food might not be worth posting.

Well, it’s time for bed now. The natives have settled a little bit. Wish us luck in sleeping!

This morning the alarm sounded at 5:30am and honestly I was already awake. We both share in the writing of this blog, but by that single statement, those that know us have already correctly guessed that this is Mark writing.

Morning Update Day44

We did the daily routine of dressing and packing as quietly as we could knowing that the other guests in the hotel would not yet be awake. Checking the forecast when we stepped outside it would be in the 40’sF (eat your heart out family in the sweltering south -haha) and Allison whipped out her gloves for the first time this trip.

From the start we knew this was going to be a “different” kind of day. For starters we were going to be entering SWITZERLAND! Yay! Secondly we were going to be going downhill most of the day. That was going to be odd.

Thirdly we literally had no idea where we were going to stop for the night – neither lodging nor even the town. South was our direction but we’d had no luck up to that point finding an opening or more accurately getting a response from people.

So we headed off knowing that we still had our tent if thing didn’t look promising by the early afternoon.

The first part of the day was spent walking through the last small ski villages in southern France. Grassy ski slopes were dotted about as well as hibernating ski school buildings and ski rental shops. This area must be hopping in the winter.

Then came the big event, we strolled down a nondescript street that became a cinder path and suddenly we came to the heavily armed and manned Swiss border full of tank traps, inspection stations, custom and immigration agents waiting to pounce on two unsuspecting pilgrims.

Crossing the border

Well, actually it was about the opposite of that. At the border was an informational placard telling the history of the border and two steles to mark the division of the two countries. Not a soul was around so we crossed the border unnoticed except by a cow in a nearby field.

Next we heard some chanting, or was it hollering, or perhaps? What we heard was hard to describe. A mans voice in the distance was repeating a tone loud and clear but irregular. Between phrases there was a banging noise that was rather harsh and unpleasant.

As we drew closer we began to suspect that this was no chant or holler, but rather a rhythmic call by a farmer to his cows. The banging noise was a wooden spoon on an old pail. This farmer was coaxing his herd out of the barn, down the street and into the field. He’d blocked our advance by a thin rope and of course the string of cows. As he passed he bid us welcome and bon marchez. Our only remaining obstacle was the large carpet of recently laid cow manure across the street. Folks, let’s just say, there was no way to avoid it.

Being in Switzerland took some getting used to. Gone were our familiar VF signs and the red and white stripe. In there place were a myriad of signs for various trails and paths all with times instead of distances posted. We did however find our path marker.

Emerging over a hill we were both surprised to see the outline of the Alps in front or us. “Surprised” is not really the best word. When I saw them I was both shocked and terrified at their size. A shiver literally ran down my back at the enormity of the range so clearly in front of us. It stopped me in my tracks.

After walking along a beautiful but steep revine following the river, we followed a cinder and hard packed clay path through forests that were peaceful and cool. Here we stopped for lunch and decided to get serious about a plan for tonight’s lodging. We tried a few numbers, again to no avail. We then noticed a posting for a farm guest house in the village of Dizy 2km off the prescribed path.

One quick call later and we’d nailed lodging, and dinner at a family farm. BINGO.

Our 28km walk for the day ended with a steeply downhill stretch just before the town of La Sarraz followed by a climb back up into Dizy.

The farm reminds Allison of her grandparents farm in PEI. The sell a lot of produce at a roadside stand in front of the house and of course they have cows. The house seems to be a revolving door of friends and family as well as farm hands.

Postscript: I don’t often brag about any one accommodation. Most have all been wonderful and our hosts have been awesome. But if you are in the area, you HAVE to take this small detour and make this Ferme (Gite de la Venoge) in Dizy stopping point. Great, and I really mean Great, home cooking.

Our night ended yesterday with a note from Gilbert. He hoped to see us again and I responded with an invitation to walk with us today. I woke to a message saying he’d love to join us.

So we woke and readied ourselves with breakfast and the usual packing. At 7am Gilbert arrived and away we went.

The trail was mostly flat and wooded and for a time followed an old rail line. Off the side of the path was a rare natural phenomenon that we likely would have passed by but at Gilbert’s suggestion we detoured off the path and down a steep grade to see an odd site. The trail led to a hollowed out rock gorge that resembled a sink hole. It is a geological oddity because of a play of hydraulic pressures and underground caverns and their interaction with a nearby stream. The water here actually flows in different directions depending on the rainfall. It was fascinating and beautiful.

Some way further along the path we came to a long dark creepy tunnel. No light came through so we stepped into the darkness. Fortunately as we progressed, automatic lights flickered on to show us the way. We made spooky music sounds in the echo chamber of the tunnel.

The region is renowned for its water sports in the mountains stream la Loue. Fishing and kayaking are very popular and we saw several campsites as well. You can understand this when you see the beautiful scenery.

We passed through the beautiful village of Ornans home to the famous painter Gustave Courbet. Courbet led the Realism movement of the 19th century made way for the Impressionist movement. He insisted on painting “only what he could see” and rejected the formal rules of the romanticism of the past generation. His pictures however are dark as was the end of his life – spent in exile in Switzerland.

The village however was picturesque, dotted with bridges and cottages at the riverside and framed with chateaux and the cliff faces of the mountains behind.

As we wound our way along the river we had great and extensive conversations with Gilbert. He would say I did all the talking and Allison all the listening. This will come as no surprise to those that know us. To be fair, Gilbert is a crest conversationalist as well and we heard many of his stories. We covered many subjects including physics, religion, politics, global warming, as well as our personal lives, etc. The kilometers flew by.

Gilbert left us at Vuillafans after walking a full 21km. He met us at the next village after retrieving his car and gave us a nice gift of bread and some local cheese. For his overwhelming kindness and generosity as well as spending so much time in meaningful conversation, Gilbert received a Key. Gilbert, I hope you will use the key I gave you to open that door we spoke about.

Most of the day was on level terrain, but as soon as Gilbert left us it turned steep. And after our second visit from Gilbert it turned steeper still. What a way to end the day.

We ended up on the gorgeous village of Mouthier-Haut-Pierre. We were unable to get in touch with the alberge so we’d made reservations at a hotel. When we arrived however there was no one there. Thumbs down to Hotels.com who have twice left me in the lurch with regard to hotels. I dare anyone to try and reach someone to help them. Very poor customer service.

After waiting about an hour a worker at the attached restaurant showed up and helped us get into the hotel and to our room. It has an amazing view.

What a day. I took so many pictures because of the gorgeous scenery. I hope you enjoy this sampling.

We ended the night with a very fancy dinner at the hotel. We really have to stop eating like this but last night we cooked a stir-fry for ourselves so I guess it is ok!

Rest days are a blessing and a curse. Our bodies and minds really appreciated the rest day, but starting up again sure is hard. You’d think with toned muscles and a nice rest that you’d be invigorated and ready to go, but the opposite is true – it is for us anyway.

Morning update Day41

The morning started our chilly and the streets of Besancon were all but deserted when we headed out early this morning. We were there shortly after the doors opened at the earliest rising bakery – pun intended.

But today all we wanted was some bread for our lunch. We had a steep start right off the bat, so we didn’t want to load up with food. There was a grocery in the town ahead that we’d be passing just about lunch time and we had been forewarned by our next host that we needed to bring dinner and breakfast with us.

Leaving Besancon my hip and feet were complaining right from the start and the thought of a climb was not exciting me. I think Allison was also hesitant. But as we walked along the River prior to the climb I couldn’t resist the beauty of the morning. It was cool and crisp. The Doub River was flowing swiftly and the sound was like heaven to me. Looking up, the Citadel towered above us. It seemed insurmountable, but we knew that’s exactly where we had to go.

We turned the corner away from the river and the climb came at us like a steam train. I honestly don’t recall my pack feeling as heavy as it did this morning. My hip groaned and my knee complained. A second later I looked up and Allison was a good 50m ahead and above me.

But as I warmed up and my body gave into the reality that play-time was over I started to feel better. Soon, in a clearing I was astounded to see that we were looking down at the Citadel. It looked so small and “ordinary” from that vantage point.

The rest of our day was like this. Steep climbs followed by long slow descents, slowly gaining altitude.

I am making this sound like a final day on Everest. In reality we’ve climbed steeper and more difficult climbs and more will come in the next weeks, but today was just unusually difficult for some reason.

About 2/3 the way in we stopped for a break. As we were sitting there Gilbert stopped to talk to us. He is just recently retired and loves to walk in the quiet of nature. Now here is someone who would love long distance hiking. He did say that the Camino Français is too crowded for him. So of course we had to tell him about the VF. He was amazed that this trail went right through his town. We said our goodbye and Gilbert continued on his way. Just before we were going to pack up, Gilbert comes jogging back to say he has a friend who might be willing to provide us lodging for the night. He called and left a message on their home answering machine basically saying an American couple would be calling them later.

Gilbert’s story – amazing generosity.

The trail had been primarily woods through the day. It was lovely. The shade and beauty of the forest is hard to beat. It made the remaining climbs more bearable.

We ended up staying with our original plan as we had a reservation and we were both just worn out. It is so difficult to get back into the groove. We marched up to the building to find a sign on the door saying to call a phone number upon arrival. So we did and not 5 minutes later a gentleman showed up and gave us the grand tour.

He spoke only French but spoke so slowly and deliberately for us that we grasped just about every word. He wasn’t satisfied however and had his grandson called over to make sure we were ok. When he found out that we’d tried to stop at the grocery the town away but that it was closed he immediately decided that he would drive us into the next town to get supplies. This was overwhelming.

We went crazy in the store buying supplies for a shrimp stir fry – something completely unlike what we’d been eating and something we’d never be able to carry in our packs. It was great.

The place we are staying in has quite a history. Inscribed in the wall is the date 1643. It was a smokehouse among other things and today is a gite and museum all in one. The alberge holds 16 folks and it feels odd to be the only ones here.

P.S. After we’d gotten settled at our lodging I received an email from Gilbert offering to come pick us up and offering us lodging for the night at his house. What an amazing experience this has been. Wow.