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...