Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: About You — The 1975

I wouldn’t say I’m a huge fan of the 1975 — I’ve liked some of their songs here and there but never listened to them religiously. But their latest album happened to come out at a time when it was what I needed to be listening to, and I fell in love with this song. This is one of those songs that I personally consider a “perfect song” (there are many). There’s nothing I would change about it — I love the orchestration and I love the duet with Carly, one of the band’s wives.

I actually associate this song strongly with London and with riding trains and buses through terrible British weather, so I figured I might use it for one of the British stages. But this morning was my favorite segment of the VF so far (even if the middle of the day was difficult) and this seemed like the right chance to use the song.

Please be proud of me: today was the first day I was on the road before my intended departure time. I woke up before my alarm and couldn’t go back to sleep, so packed, ate, and was out of Pontarlier’s Youth Hostel by 6:30, when the city was still waking up. The first 30 minutes were through the edges of town with not much to write home about — passed the hospital and a Nestle factory with a few massive trucks waiting to enter. At the edge of the city I passed a roundabout with a sort of creepy statue in the middle (see below) and then started my first uphill of the day.

Today was yet another example of French trail planners not being aware of, or choosing out of spite not to use, switchbacks. Everything was straight up the mountains. The first section of trail was on a gravel path through dark forest which the early morning light had not yet pierced — the sun was still hidden behind the mountains that framed Pontarlier and the rest of the valley. I wasn’t sure if Kerry and Andy were ahead of or behind me, but figured there was a chance I would run into them at some point. I was, unsurprisingly, a bit creeped out in the dark woods alone, where I could see boar hoof prints in the mud. Once again I started singing to try to console myself: Italian songs and Frank Sinatra.

Just as I was about to break into a rendition of ‘My Way’ I came across a campsite: two bicyclists were still fast asleep in those little hammock-tent things, so I quieted down. Soon after I came upon the first viewpoint of the day: the Belvedere du Fer a Chevalier. Suddenly I exited the forest and was on a rocky bluff with a sweeping view of the valley below. In the distance, large mountains loomed. White clouds swirled and swept down-valley in what almost looked like whitewater rapids. And just up-valley the imposing Chateau de Joux glowed in the early-morning sun. I sat here for a long time, standing right at the railing and admiring the view.

Finally, I needed to continue onward as I knew the day would get hot. So I left the viewpoint and headed back into the woods, onto more straight-uphill tracks. Today confirmed something I have known for a long time: I really am a views hiker. I will happily destroy myself with tons of elevation if I know there will be something nice to look at when I’m done. And I’d always prefer this (even if I grumble about the hills) to a forest walk with no views. It’s no wonder I found the canal paths of France so boring.

After just 30 minutes of uphill the path flattened out and suddenly emerged from the forest in front of the Fort Mahler. Following the advice of my guidebook (thanks, Sandy Brown!) I looped around the fort for yet another fantastic view of the Chateau, perched high on an imposing cliff. This, truly, was the most spectacular scenery I have seen so far on the Via Francigena. I had been looking forward to this stage and felt so rewarded to finally be here.

After yet another probably-too-long break I continued on, as the VF took me down the other side of the mountain I had spent the first part of the morning climbing. This was a fantastic portion of the trail (not just because it was downhill). It was soft, comfortable soil and an easy grade. Even better, I could hear the tinkle of what I thought were cowbells, but no — sheep! I snaked my way downhill (finally, switchbacks). At a certain point I glanced back up where I came and saw two green packs walking along the Fort Mahler. “Kerry!” I screamed. “Hello, down here!” She shouted back and we wished each other good luck as I continued down, all the way to the valley floor I had started on. I meandered my way through La Cluse-et-Mijoux and noticed that the VF app sometimes did not match the blazes and signs marking the trail on the ground. This has been true elsewhere, e.g. the diversion through the center of Lods, and here it seemed like there wasn’t much difference between the two ways.

Both rejoined eventually and took me up to the next mountain I would climb today, with started with a trek through long, wet grass. Great, wet feet again. I re-entered the forest, which was really muddy here even though I didn’t think there had been rain recently. Like, really muddy — my foot almost got stuck at one point. Another few steep turns and then the signs took me out of the woods, into more wet grass just at the boundary of the pine forest. Not thrilled about the grass, I nevertheless dutifully followed the path, which became increasingly more overgrown with stinging nettles — ouch. I stopped briefly to confirm that I was going the right way, and realized that once again the app had diverged from the marked path. However I could see there were still blazes on my trail, so painfully I pushed onward, where the trail soon rejoined the gravel road marked on the app. However, the road was covered with a downed tree, so I thought perhaps this was the reason for the diversion.

Once again following the marked signs, I diverted again from the gravel and into the trees on a narrow hiking trail that at multiple points had extremely steep (short) ascents, where I struggled to find my footing and almost slipped. I crossed through a gate and then slogged my way across a field of cows and into the hamlet of Montpetot, which has a church, a farm, and a gite. From there it was more uphill in the sun, which had become quite hot, across grassy pastures and then finally back into the woods. Once again I followed the marked signs further and further uphill.

At a certain point, I reached a fence around a field of cows. A tree next to the fence was marked, but I couldn’t see another blaze anywhere, though the path clearly continued across the field. I inspected the fence: one thin wire with no gate. I thought it might be electric, though there was no indication that it was. To be safe, I threw off my pack and crawled under. On the other side, the fence was lower to the ground and I was concerned about safely getting under it — but going over was also precarious. While further inspecting it my metal pole hit the fence — I expected that if the fence were electrified this would have made some sort of zapping sound. The lack of a reaction I thought was odd. Hmm, I thought, maybe it’s not electrified and I can just lift it up? I lightly tapped it with one finger. At first, nothing happened, but then suddenly I was hit with what felt like the worst static shock I’ve every received. I yowled in pain, my cry echoing back to me from the mountains, and pulled my hand back. Okay, so it was electric after all….sheepishly I took off my pack and once again crawled under.

Safely on the other side as the adrenaline from the literal shock started to come down, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. Rationally, I knew that animal electric fences must be built so they don’t irreparably harm humans, since they had to know dumb humans would touch them. But I couldn’t convince myself that my stupid mistake could have ended up poorly. Struggling to breathe, I ended up calling my mom to talk through the incident and calm myself down. Meanwhile, I continued walking — only at a certain point, once my heart rate and breathing were back to normal, I realized that the Via Francigena signs had disappeared. I stopped, checked the app — the road I was taking was in the complete opposite direction from where I needed to go. Okay….I retraced my steps back to the junction, and confirmed that the VF signs were pointing me back on the road I had taken. With no idea where the rogue signs were headed, I decided to just follow the app and take the road straight to Les Fourgs, the next town. The walk there was easy but extremely hot in unrelenting sun, with views of bright green pastures and mountains in the distance.

Finding the one open shop in Les Fourgs, a ski town that is semi-abandoned during the summer, I purchased a fresh baguette and some goat cheese and slumped onto the chair out front. Worn out from the heat and from my earlier freak-out, I decided to sit awhile with a cold water and make myself a saucisson/chèvre/tomato sandwich. And I have to say — it was a fantastic sandwich. The bread was perfectly crunch on the outside and soft inside, the cheese was tangy, and the tomato beautifully ripe. I polished off the sandwich and made myself a second cheese-and-tomato sandwich just as Andy and Kerry walked up. They joined me at the table and I immediately explained my woes. Andy, too, had been shocked by the fence (he had it worse as he had grabbed it fully with one hand, and it sent tingles up his arm) and Kerry similarly lamented the discrepancies between the app and the marked path. They got coffees and lunch, and I sat with them as they ate, glad to once again have their company.

After a long break for me, at least an hour and a half, I was feeling calmer and refreshed. Together we set off, refilling our water bottles on the way out of town. We collectively agreed that we should follow the app, and noticed that the signs were instead suggesting a long, steep detour out of town. No thanks! We followed a quiet road up, over one last hill, before descending past a farm where we stopped to admire the idyllic quasi-Alpine scenery, and the absolutely huge, steep roofs on the houses meant to help snow slide off.

Unable to get into our accommodation until 4pm, we were in no rush. So twenty minutes later when we passed an open bakery, we decided to stop in. The inside was, somehow, even hotter than outside, but they sold delicious quiche and cold fruit sodas. We sat on the ground outside, boots off, enjoying the mid-afternoon snack. With two hours until we needed to be in town, we each leaned against our packs for a quick pilgrim nap, which didn’t seem to bother the bakers.

Just after 3 we headed the final 10 minutes into town to get our stamps at the Mairie, try to see the church (closed) and investigate the one shop in town. It was a blissfully air-conditioned shop connected to a local cheesemaking factory, and had all sorts of local meats, cheeses, wines, and spirits. In particular they had some local honey that looked divine, but unfortunately only in sizes too large and too heavy for our packs.

Finally we headed over to Jean-Luc and Francoise’s houses, where we were greeted by the couple and their energetic dog, Poncho. We sat outside in the shade chatting over beers and sodas about life in the village, families, and pilgrimage. Jean-Luc has walked to Switzerland to connect to the German and Swiss way to Compostela via Le Puy. He’ll pick it back up again next year once recovered from a knee injury. Like Ken and Terry from Canada, he uses a trolley rather than a backpack.

Then it was upstairs to shower and get ready for a 7pm dinner. My dad called me to make fun of me for being dumber than a cow (I pointed out that I would only be dumber than a cow if I got shocked a second time, currently I was as dumb as a cow) and suggested I might consider various “Electric” / “Shock” songs for my song of the day.

Jean-Luc and Francoise, our lovely hosts, served us dinner. At 7pm the five of us sat outside in their yard for an aperitif: melon, tomatoes, pate en croute, and chips paired with a local anis liqueur (watered down and served on ice — delicious). Somehow the main event was even better — fondue! And though I haven’t liked fondue the other times I’ve tried it (I can’t get behind the Swiss tradition of adding kirsch), this was absolutely delicious. It was Kerry and Andy’s first time trying fondue as well. Fantastically gooey and cheesy, it was made from local Comte cheese and served with a green salad with vinaigrette and a Chardonnay from the surrounding hills.

Though every 15 minutes the family’s cuckoo clock would interject, the conversation was wide ranging and easy, talking about travel, family, and history. Francoise has traveled many times to Kenya and developed a friendship with a Masai chief, helping organize a benefit concert to support his village. We also learned more about the house — 200 years old, and the couple still uses the historic oven and fireplace, and have added an area for drying smoked salami near the chimney. And we discussed French customs and food: Kerry and Andy love fromage blanc, but can’t get it in Australia. I concurred — the US also has stringent rules about the use of raw milk. “Ah,” sighed Jean-Luc, “then you don’t know what is good!” Tell me about it!

We finished off the meal with ice cream and a group photo taken on self timer, which I will add to this post if I receive it in time from Francoise. All in all it was a lovely way to end the day, and the perfect final evening in Switzerland.

Final mileage: 12.79mi
Walking time: 6h 52m
Elevation gain: 1,821ft

Accommodation: We stayed with Jean-Luc and Francoise in their home in Les-Hopital-Vieux. While this adds a few kilometers for the walk tomorrow (instead of staying in Jougne, the recommended stopping point), I would not have traded this experience for anything. Highly recommend!