For the first time in three weeks I rose to brilliant blue skies and they stayed that way all day. I did find the disadvantage of not wild-camping and hiding in forests – clear skies mean a lot of dew, so the tent went away just as wet as if it had been raining! I’m sure I didn’t notice the extra mass.
As a region, the Jura, that prides itself on its clock and watch making pedigree, I’ve noticed an odd tendency for the church clocks to double chime. That is, they chime the number of hours that has just been reached and then about a minute later the chime is repeated – so at noon, you get twenty-four strikes of the bell to tell it is so. This does have the advantage of if you forget to count the chimes or lose interest, you get another chance. While I was sitting eating breakfast in the dining room, very civilised compared to my usual method of eating baked goods in my tent, the grandfather clock also did this. The village church was only across the street, so four lots of chimes at nine in the morning became a little repetitive!
Knowing the Geneva was about 800 metres of altitude below me, I had hoped that I would ride to the end of the Jura plateau and then coast /speed down to the lake. Alas, this was not the case – as I passed Belfontaine I plunged down to the valley only to have to recover all those lost metres and more besides to reach the top of the pass. I’ve hardly a speedy rig for long road climbs, so there was plenty of time to enjoy the sunshine, the cool of the trees and the views across the valleys. The ski-fields were getting bigger – for the last few days I’d been in cross-country skiing territory, and saw some more people out training on the road on roller-skis.
Around the corner, there was the summit of the pass and Mont Blanc.
At last I made the top of the six hundred metre climb and could speed down to the lake below. Even more reason to ride with one’s mouth closed, I found small swarms of gnats to contend with. They were OK, I hit something bigger – I think a bee – while I was doing about fifty km/hr; how it managed the time to sting me, I don’t know, but I’ve a slightly itchy neck. The terrain flattened out to farmland and then I was standing above the Large Hadron Collider. Being that most of the interesting parts are ninety-five metres below the ground there’s not a lot to see – the big shed was fairly unremarkable. On the plus side, the world didn’t end.
From where I came.
I tried the panorama function on my camera for the first time…
As well as being a logical point on my route (the big lake rather dictated that I pass through the city), I wanted to return to Geneva so that my only memories of it aren’t as a four year old getting my hand stuck in an elevator door and standing in a roof-top garden listening to that distinctive sound of European ambulance sirens. Unfortunately, my memories are no better now – I found Geneva to be wholly uninteresting. And that was on a glorious late-summer’s day where plenty of people were out and about enjoying the sun and being by the lakeside. Perhaps it was because I’d just spent a few days in the Juras and found them to very nice.
One of the two photos I took in Geneva – I could see this fountain from the top of the pass before I descended, but didn’t know what it was at the time.
My legs, particularly my left calf, were beginning to tell me that I hadn’t bothered to stretch them the last two evenings and they’d done quite a bit of hill work. I resolved to follow the road around the south-east side of the lake and hopefully not put them through too much over the next day and a half. The highlight of Geneva was the bakery stop on the way out of town – when I explained my trip so far, the guy gave me a free donut and croissant. There wasn’t a lot of competition in Geneva for best moment.
The real estate was rather swanky on the way out of the city beside the lake. It toned down a bit when I crossed back into France, but the chances of finding a good wild-camping spot were less than the previous few days. When the second sign for a campsite came up, my legs had had enough for the day and the prospect of a shower, being clean and putting my tent up while there was still sunlight to dry it were too tempting.
Yvoire is the village just across the road and it is a delight. Right on the edge of Lake Leman (Geneva), it’s got an old castle, ramparts and fortified gateways. Not to mention plenty of little twisty streets, no cars in the centre and plenty of bright summer flowers. A nice spot for a strange bit of time on the bike with no luggage and a tasty dinner.
The slimmed down Ogre out for an evening ride.