Franche-Compte

28th August, 2009 (Sally)

From Baume les Dames the river Doubs meanders through spectacular scenery, the cliffs rise sheer from the water and trees grow from seemingly impossible slopes. We are slowly, ever so slowly drifting downstream, constantly asking ourselves where are all the other boats. This is meant to be high season in Europe, yet we see only two or three boats a day. So much for our original concerns of being crowded off the water.

The approach to Besancon is awe inspiring. From the river one sees the full scope of the defensive system that made it such a formidable obstacle for any would-be assailants. Vertical cliffs are topped with the mighty walls, ramparts and towers of what is now termed Vauban's masterpiece. The new mooring situated right under the citadel walls is also a delight, 200 metres of sparkling floating dock, complete with aluminium walkways, security gates, pumpout stations; and we had it all to ourselves. We had already decided to spend a week in Besancon and the facilities made it even more inviting. So much to see and even after a week there is much that we have left for next time. Besancon is a very old town — it was visited and mentioned by Julius Caesar when it was known as the Roman town of Vesontio. It sits in a loop in the river, almost as if drawn by a compass, and the part of the circle not completed by the river is completely blocked by the walls of the citadel. There are now tunnels under this part allowing boats, as well as traffic, to take a shortcut. All the historic part is inside the original walls and is a maze of pedestrian streets, squares and some lovely old buildings. We used our motorbikes for an extensive exploration of the surrounding heights to see the layout of the town from above and visited a couple of the nearby forts which provided extra defense. The citadel needed a whole day to explore as it covers seven hectares and they have used the space very well with extra museums and displays as well as the walks and explanations of the site itself. One of the moats is home to a troup of baboons, endangered species of antelope roam free in and outside the walls, and an aviary and small zoo have been set up in part of the enclosed walls. The armoury is also an aquarium and there are three other museums inside various rooms. All very well done, perhaps too well done as twenty rooms of the Musée to Resistance and Deportation was a very sobering end to the day. Our time there coincided with the hottest weather we have ever had in France, days in the high 30's saw us doing not a lot except relaxing under the shade or walking into town to enjoy a drink in the shady squares. Pat and I went for a bike ride one day to admire the city walls from the other side of the river and when riding through the city gardens came upon a gathering of the traditional Comtoise Horses. They were all being shown and judged with foals at foot in a very informal atmosphere. Foals running free amongst the spectators, and not for these folk the highly polished horse floats and Range Rovers to tow them. Parked amongst the trees was a great collection of tractors and floats straight off the farm. Comtoise horses were nearly a dying breed but are now very popular and one sees them everywhere with their distinctive palomino colouring and very heavy stature. The other distinctive feature of the area is the Franche Comté brown and white dairy cows as well as the huge stainless steel tankers trundling off to make the cheese that the area is famous for. We have sampled most, Morbier with its distinctive layer of ash, Mont D'Or, Bleu de Gex and of course Compté. My encyclopedia of French Cheese is collecting some notes. and more than a few ticks as we attempt to sample the cheese of each area we visit.

Downstream from Besancon we moored at a couple of small French villages and from one we took the bikes to cycle back and visit the Grotte d'Oselle. These caves were opened in 1504 making them one of the oldest-visited caves in the world and were also a refuge for priests during the Revolution and the site of many cave bear skeletons. The first complete one was discovered in 1826 and is now in the British Museum but they have managed to keep some in-situ. The walk of 1300 metres through fifteen caverns in a temperature of 13 deg was a welcome relief from the heat outside. At the small village of Rans, Pat and Paul left us to continue their holiday in France. We took our bikes again and visited Arc et Senans, another UNESCO listed site, just 14kms from the canal. It was the Royal Salt works where they processed the salt water from 21 kms away by boiling it in huge evaporation baths using the wood from the nearby Forest of Chaux. The reasoning was it was easier to transport the water than the fire wood. The buildings for such a mundane project are magnificent, built in 1775 to be the basis of an ideal village, they were to form a huge circle with another outer ring of workers cottages. The whole project was not profitable so only the first half circle was completed and still stands as a museum to salt production, exhibition spaces and cultural centre. They were rehearsing for a concert that evening while we were there. Another interesting sight among the many we have seen when you have time to really explore.

We are now moored in Dole, the old capital of Franche-Comté before they upset Louis XIV by daring to defend themselves against his army. He eventually gained their territory for France and promptly punished them by making Besancon the new capital. Also the birthplace of Louis Pasteur with his original home now a museum. Probably one of the prettiest ports we have stayed in, the view from our window is the flowered river banks, the multi-level tiled roofs of Dole and the newly renovated cathedral tower. And if that isn't pretty enough its colourful floodlighting at night complements the view from our own private dining room.

The high area of Jura is accessable from Dole and the tourist office was advertising a day trip for 56€ on the 'Swallow' line up to St Claude. This line took fifty years to build and with its thirty six tunnels and eighteen viaducts one can see why. It looked interesting and when we went to inquire were told we needed to reserve at the tourist office. Well, we were already at the train station ready to go so with a day pass for 12€ we took exactly the same train to Morez then by bus to St Claude and okay we didn't get the gourmet lunch but we certainly did it a whole lot cheaper. What a fascinating area, we were nearly on the Swiss border, mountain meadows set among forest, cows everywhere, this is the heart of their cheese making area, and towns clinging to the sides of steep gorges. St Claude is set deep in a canyon and is a sizeable town compensating for its lack of building sites with a jumble of multi storey units. Not the most attractive of towns but fascinating just the same. In just two weeks they have the festival when the cows are brought down from the mountain pastures to their winter quarters. People line the streets and the cows are decorated in flowers for the trip. It sounds a lot of fun but of course it signifies that the summer is coming to an end; and with it our time in France for another year.

The Doubs

10th August, 2009 (Tony)

Our trusty little motorbikes have proved their worth over the past fortnight, enabling us to make excursions deep into the surrounding countryside. On our reconnaissance foray up into the Vosges mountains to find a place to watch the Tour de France my bike ran out of fuel about a kilometre beyond a solitary service station. Fortunately, in turning around to face downhill the bike restarted and we managed to purchase the only five litre jerry can in stock. It now accompanies us on our journeys as our excursions are often more than eighty kilometres, the extent of a tankful of fuel, and service stations along the routes we prefer can be a rarity. For example, we headed off one glorious sunny afternoon from Dannemarie, through gorgeous woods and farmland, into Switzerland, briefly, and back through quaint little villages that would normally be considered beyond reach by bicycle, especially when the temperature was well into the thirties. And from Montbéliard we ventured up to Ronchamp to admire the remarkable Chapelle Notre-Dame-du-Haut sited at the top of a hill overlooking the old mining town. The original gothic church was destroyed by artillery in WWII and the community, comprising mostly families of Italian and Polish coal miners, sought to rebuild it. To their consternation, the Bishop of Besancon had other ideas and appointed a committee to find a modern-style replacement. Le Corbusier (France's equivalent to Frank Lloyd Wright; or Antoni Gaudi) was eventually commissioned to design the new church. The starkly simple result is stunning. I had seen photos previously but seeing the real thing was a profoundly moving experience. The interior would probably seat no more than a hundred worshipers but the east end sanctuary is replicated outside with an altar and pulpit facing out to a natural grassy ampitheatre that could accommodate ten thousand. Completed in 1955 it now attracts hundreds of visitors daily, despite its remote situation. For a time we considered it was beyond our reach too, but we're glad we made the long journey, seeking out less-busy roads and avoiding highways. What a highlight. I am curious to know if it cost less than reconstruction of the original design, a fact discreetly omitted from all the information. They certainly raise a fortune from visitor fees at 5€ a pop plus miscellaneous sales of souvenirs, and snacks. (See photos on our web site.)

The bicycles have been getting a good workout too, now that we are drifting ever so slowly down the Doubs towards year's end. On one occasion we set off along the tow path — which incidentally forms part of the Velo Europe, a bikeway that extends from the mouth of the Loire near Nantes to Budapest — and I paused at a lock to wait for Sally to catch up. To my astonishment I looked down and noticed the head of a small dog up against the sheet-piling at the edge of the canal. Poor thing had obviously been immersed there for some time and had no chance of climbing out by himself. Lying prone, Sally reached down and dragged the wretch by the scruff of his neck, whereupon he staggered about for a few moments trying to make a connection with his leg muscles, shook himself and promptly headed off, we thought, towards home. However, several locks further upstream he appeared to be quite lost so we alerted the lock keeper to his plight. We made enquiries a few days later and learned that he was in the care of a vet who had established that he had an identity tattoo although no one had, as yet, claimed him. He was a young wiry-haired terrier, clearly someone's pet. We have no doubt one of the students working the locks will adopt him if his real owner fails to turn up. Everyone in the employ of VNF seemed to know about the incident. It seemed likely that he may have fallen off a boat, but he wasn't viewed as a prospective crew member on ours!

At Montbéliard we rested up for several days to await the arrival of cousin Paul and his wife Pat, from New Zealand. They dragged their cases more than a kilometre through the town and were soon relishing the warm summer sunshine. Hardly noteworthy for much else, Montbéliard has the finest display of flower boxes and hanging pots we have seen in France. They are magnificent, as are the gardens in the park between the river and the canal. Next day we retraced our steps through four locks and turned off into the Canal de Belfort. Barely used any more, VNF would only allow us to proceed through the first two old manually operated locks, for which they provided us our own exclusive éclusier, to Trévenans. From there it is eleven kilometres to Belfort so Pat and Sally rode pushbikes while Paul and I exercised the motorbikes. Belfort proved to be an interesting town. It has a modern town centre full of classy shops and smartly dressed shoppers, most of them young. The ancient citadel and walls, again a Vauban masterpiece, provide spectacular views over the town and surrounding countryside. In the Franco-Prussian war Belfort resisted all attempts to capture the city and in 1870 remained in French territory. As a mark of gratitude to the brave defenders, Bartholdi, who among other things conceived the Statue of Liberty, was commissioned to sculpt a tribute. His Lion du Belfort, set into the wall above the city, is something to see and, eerily, bears a striking resemblance to Simba. I wonder where Disney's animators drew their inspiration... It's a shame that canals, like the one to Belfort, have fallen into disuse for many bargees without motorised alternative transport must miss seeing great places of interest. I guess there are not enough boats using any of the canals in France.

We resumed our journey downstream, arriving in L'Isle sur le Doubs where for two days we did nothing — it was too hot to leave the shade of our awning, except for a late afternoon walk through the park and to the top of the hill overlooking the town which once-upon-a-time boasted a huge factory that produced bolts and nuts. After WWII demand for such essentials dwindled. Nowadays they are imported from China, one supposes. The Doubs is a small river, although it can become a raging torrent when it floods, as it did a few years ago and swept marinas and bridges into oblivion. But it is absolutely beautiful. Steep, rocky cliffs covered in forest rise from each bank as the river winds its way down the valley. Sometimes it can be rather shallow so one needs to be vigilant noting the chart and following the channel. We arrived in Baume les Dames, a pretty town whose claim to fame is that it was here that the world's first steamship was launched, to find the port practically full. We rafted up to an Aussie boat belonging to a couple who have been enjoying this idyllic lifestyle for ten years and have no idea when they may give it up. Then a Dutch boat rafted onto us. Drinks on the top deck extended almost til dark. Alas, drama this morning, the Dutch cast off and chugged three metres and ran aground! (A draft of 1.5m is not a good idea for boats in French canals. Better to be long and shallow-drafted than short and deep!) No worries, Sable became a tugboat and we had the chance to put to use the 50mm tow rope I purchased, at great expense, in case we ourselves ever got into difficulties. Like a compliant camel the towee quickly ceded its 'stuck-in-the-mud' attitude and was soon off up the river. From behind it looked a bit like the little dog romping off to freedom...