Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: Mountain at my Gates — Foals

“There is a mountain at my gates, I see it more and more each day / What I give it takes away, whether I go or when I stay….oh, gimme some time / show me the foothold from which I climb / Yeah, when I feel low, you show me a signpost for where I should go”

I can’t listen to any song by Foals without being reminded of the time I saw them live at the 930 club in DC. They were touring “Total Life Forever” and I must have been about 15 years old. I would often go to concerts with my dad, and he would stand upstairs on the balcony while I would thrash around in the pit with the other nerdy indie kids of the greater DC area. For this show, for one reason or another, I decided to hang upstairs with him. From above, we had a birds-eye view of a man with the build of a linebacker dancing ballet while Foals performed live (in retrospect he may have been on drugs). The dichotomies between the music and the dancing style, and of his build and his lightness of step were amusing to us, and we ended up watching him more than the band.

But this Foals song also reminds me of Derek — it came out around the time he and I did our road trip through Ireland. I was DJ and he was driver (as always) and we listened to this song a lot, winding our way through green fields and through the orange rolling hills of Connemara park.

Today was a day best described in three stages. The first: up, up, up. The second: a perfect walking day. The third: survival mode. All in all it was a very good day, an introduction to the Jura region and this next phase of France.

So, starting with up, up, up. I was up relatively early, wanting to make an early start given the weather today. However I was slow to pack and make breakfast so realistically wasn’t out the door until about 6:40. The sun was just rising and it was beautiful. I stopped to snap photos of the pink clouds over Besancon’s medieval houses. It was quiet on the streets, just me and the garbagemen, and there was only one boulangerie open where I stopped to grab an emergency croissant. You wouldn’t think you could get a bad croissant in France but that’s exactly what this was — it looked like it had been made from dough that came in a can, and was sad and chewy. It reminded me of the type of thing you get at an airport when there are no other food options. Ah well.

I walked along the river Doub until I got to the turnoff for the Via Francigena, which per the guidebook promised a steep uphill climb. They weren’t kidding — it was a road pointed straight uphill as far as I could see. Oh, and did I mention that today would be 18 miles or so with no places to refill water? So I was carrying my maximum water, adding 10 pounds to my pack. This made for a brutal start to the uphill, which strained my calves and had me doubled over, gasping for air within minutes. Just when I thought I might get respite from the uphill road, it transitioned into a set of rickety wooden stairs through a stand of trees. I was already sweating, soaked through my tshirt yet chilly in the morning air. Finally at the top of the steps I got to walk a more gradual, winding uphill for a bit, even stopping to tape up my heels, which were seeing more action than they have for weeks. However this respite was brief and once again it was straight up the hill, this time on a narrow track past homes and farms, where I spotted cats and cows. Someone should really introduce French route-planners to the art of the switchback.

At another point where the path leveled off, I stopped for a second to take my bearings. Down behind me was Besancon — I could now see I was at about the same level as the ramparts I had walked yesterday. My goal for this stint was to reach the Chapelle des Buis, and…damn it, yes, there it was high above me, with much more climbing in between. So I set off again, desperately sucking air and water.

Finally, arriving at the ridge line, I was met with a soft breeze that made me shiver. Turning to look at where I came, I realized I had an expansive view over Besancon below. I had been climbing for over an hour straight, and could scarcely believe the view over the valley. A little ways further I stopped for a snack by the Liberation Memorial, which was built at this lookout over the city to celebrate that it had been spared from bombing in WWII. It was still relatively early, just about 8 am, and perfectly peaceful.

Thus ends the first phase of my walk today. Given the heat and the length of the stage, I was departing from the official VF (which would wind its way along two sides of a triangle, including a significant backtrack), planning to region at Foucherans. From the monument I took a forested path down to a D-road, where I passed cattle grazing, before heading back into the forest. This new path was a tiny, barely-there footpath. It led me past a graffitied water tower, under a recently fallen tree, and through some beautiful forest before dumping me out on a hill above the highway: this was an E-road (or maybe an N-road? It had both names): not as busy as an Autoroute, but still 2 lanes of high speed traffic in each direction. When I first scouted this route last night I was concerned about how I would cross this road without having to do the long backtrack that the VF took: Maps.Me’s answer to this dilemma was to have me cross at a roundabout, where thankfully traffic speeds were slow and two kind drivers let me dart across the road without incident.

From here I descended into the village of La Veze, where I stopped only long enough to apply sunscreen before hitting a D-road out of town. This road was interesting — it was wide enough for two lanes of traffic, but instead was designed with one lane for cars in the middle, and a lane on each side for bike / pedestrian traffic. If cars needed to pass each other they could extend into these bike lanes. This was a very intelligent system, as so many of these roads I have seen from experience have very little car traffic (not enough to warrant two lanes) and at least some foot / bike traffic, so this was a great way to offer some protection for those not in cars. And as expected I was passed by a number of bicyclists, including one woman who slowed down to chat and was impressed to hear that I had made it from Canterbury. “Ca va?” She asked. I answered in the affirmative. Yeah, everything is going well, I would say.

This very quiet road took me first through forest, then alongside pastures, and then over rolling hills through two tiny hamlets. All along the way I was greeted by the sound of cowbells — though cows have been a ubiquitous presence on this trip so far, this was the first time I had heard them having bells! Just as it was starting to get hot, I parked myself in a bus stop in Tarcenay for lunch. I took off my shoes and socks, made some electrolyte water, and set about preparing my sandwich: pre-sliced chorizo, and freshly sliced tomato on a slightly-stale baguette. Lunch was good but I could tell the heat was already staying to impact me, as I felt the beginnings of a headache incoming. Unfortunately I was only about halfway done and had 3 hours or so of walking left.

The next 30 minutes to Foucherans was more of the same: a mix of fields, forest, and pastures. I couldn’t help but think about how if it were just 10 degrees cooler it would be a truly perfect day. Entering town was a long, shadeless stretch of suburban homes where I debated sneaking into someone’s back yard to drench myself with the hose. Eventually I made it to the main square where I picked up the VF once again and let the red-and-white blazes guide me towards Ornans. On the way out of town, I saw two men outside their house washing their grill — shyly, I asked if they would be willing to douse my bandana. They were confused but obliged, and the feeling of ice cold water on my neck in the hot sun was divine while it lasted.

On a hot and unshaded section I saw a fellow pilgrim headed in the opposite direction. I waved him down and after poorly attempting to make conversation in French, I learned (in English) that he was also walking the VF, in the opposite direction to Calais. He mentioned that he started in Pavia so, assuming he was Italian, I switched to Italian. So did he and we finished the conversation in Italian after this amusing exchange:

Me: “Oh, Pavia. So you’re Italian?”

Him: “No, I’m not Italian. Wait, you’re Italian?”

Me: “No, I’m American.”

Him: “But you speak Italian, obviously”

Me: “Well, yes, I used to live in Rome”

Not sure why we didn’t switch back to English after determining that Italian was neither of our first language, but we didn’t and he assured me I only had 2.5 hours or so to Ornans. Not a surprise, but still not happy news given the heat. Oh and by the way, I later learned that his name was Pascal, and he is Swiss.

From here I transitioned more into the survival mode section of my walk. I managed to power through the exposed section crossing farms, and entered the forest, which offered the relief of shade. However, stopping after a strenuous uphill, I realized I was fully drenched with sweat and honestly, a bit dizzy. I stood for a second taking in the scenery — mossy stones, pin-straight trees, light filtering down onto the ground — and tried to ground myself. I took a few more sips of water, determined I had nowhere to go but forward, and continued onward (after texting Nathan to let him know I wasn’t feeling well and where I was). After the forest I transitioned onto a former railroad track turned bike path, which was in some ways like a return to canal walking, though this had the benefit of some shade. At this point I was not dizzy but feeling a bit nauseous, so tried to set a good pace and just focus on keeping my lunch down.

After 30 minutes or so on this path I came to the (in)famous tunnel — I had seen and heard other pilgrims talk about this very long railroad tunnel before. And honestly, I expected it to be a bit more intimidating than it was. First of all, it was honestly a godsend as it was so much cooler than the path. But also, it was well lit, and you could always see light at least in one direction (it’s about 180 meters long). All in all I didn’t think it was that big of a deal but was glad for respite from the sun.

The views from this path, to the extent I could focus on enjoying them, were fantastic. It was interesting — the Jura are very old mountains (Jura as in “Jurassic”) and in many ways the scenery reminded me other another range of old mountains: the Appalachians. If you told me this bike path was actually a converted railroad track in West Virginia, I would have believed you, with the rolling, green hills in all directions. As I got closer to Ornans, you began to see some of the towns famous cliffs (painted frequently by Gustave Courbet), and at one point the path was hemmed in my mossy walls on either side.

I called my mom to say hi (and also, to distract myself from how poorly I felt with still an hour or so to go). I tried to describe the scenery to her as I went, hoping it would help me appreciate it further. She had to go just as I broke out of the forest and into the industrial outskirts of Ornans, where like an oasis in the desert I could see a large supermarket just a block ahead (strangely, with a large fish statue in front of it).

However, before I made it into the supermarket I noticed two people sitting outside with large packs next to them. “Via Francigena?” I asked. “Yes!” The cried, and I introduced myself and sat down to join them. They were Kerry and Andy from Australia, who had just started a few days back in Besancon. This would be their fourth pilgrimage. We chatted about life, work, and family, and made plans to meet later for dinner.

After a quick shop and a long pause in the refrigerated section to cool off, I made my way into Ornans. It’s a lovely city, hard to photograph well, but it has a picturesque bell tower, charming houses lined up along the river Loue, and the imposing cliffs above. My Airbnb was a room in a hotel right next to the Courbet museum, which I unfortunately missed. I think I’m the only one staying here. The place also has a spa, i.e. a jacuzzi. Much like the one in Bar-sur-Aube, this was not hot, but given the heat wave today this was a plus. And, it still had jets. So I took a refreshing, relaxing dip after dropping my bags, before returning to my room for a shower and laundry.

Afterwards, I did a bit of panicked logistics — Kerry and Andy had mentioned that had issues booking some of their next stages (they have through the pass booked already), including in Jougne where I had counted on staying. With Nathan’s help we called through the roster of Jougne options and determined that yes, there was nowhere there for me to stay. I have an email out to another host a few kilometers up the road — here is hoping they will have space for me! I have to say, even though I am meeting more pilgrims now, I find it really surprising to run into accommodation issues. I know Italy will be more busy, so I suppose I may need to start planning further in advance for those stages. I also booked much of my accommodation in Switzerland, though I haven’t found a good option yet in Lausanne. I knew it would be expensive, but these prices are really eye-watering. Hoping that Italy will help bring my budget into balance.

I headed out to meet up with Kerry and Andy for a drink on the water, where we watched the town set up for a liberation day celebration in front of the WWII memorial. We then headed a few blocks over to one of (if not the) only open restaurant, where I had a delicious meal of trout — a local specialty, I think — and chocolate mousse (my first in France!) I also tried a glass of wine from Savignin, a local grape variety (TBD if any relation to Sauvignon). It was not really to my taste — extremely fruity and heavily oaked — but I was glad to try it (note: this was not vin jaune, the Jura wine which is aged under a layer of flor, like sherry).

After dinner I headed back to the hotel, where it sunk in that once again I was the only one here in a large building (at least this time my bedroom door locks). I sat with my feet in the jacuzzi for awhile writing before getting ready for bed. Even though tomorrow is a short stage, I want to get a reasonably early start so I can be done before the heat sets in.

Final mileage: 18.12 mi
Walking time: 8h 32m
Elevation gain: 1,552ft (finally, four digits!)

Accommodation: Gite Les Muses (booked through Airbnb). A bit above the pilgrim budget but a nice and newly renovated room — plus jacuzzi access. I had the whole gite to myself, I think.