September 15, 2023
Day 3: EuroVelo 6 across France
Besancon to Choisey
We had breakfast at the hotel to start the day before cycling through the historic part of Besancon. This place drips with history. After about half an hour of touring, we made our way towards the EuroVelo, passing the other side of the Citadel from where we had entered the city yesterday. Today, we're heading west for about 60 km to Choisey, near Dole.
The waters along the canals and river were so smooth, and the light was angled perfectly, making the reflections of the cliff faces and autumn leaves picture-perfect. Like the past two days of riding, the colours of the leaves on the deciduous trees were stunning.
Today felt like a continuation of the previous day's ride through a gorge, with steep hillsides covered in trees and exposed cliff faces. Luckily, we had the breeze at our backs for most of the morning.
Since the bike repairs yesterday, it feels fantastic to ride. I feel fantastic.
As I rode, I became fascinated by the fisherfolk I kept spotting along the waterways! These fisherfolk, who fish the canals, avoid eye contact or any interaction with other humans. No matter how many waves I made or how many "bonjours" I called out, they never responded. Tough call, I know - but try and prove me wrong!
Later in the morning, we stumbled across a waterfall spilling out of a hole in a hillside. Upon closer inspection, we discovered it was the Tunnel de Thoraise - a 185-metre long and 6-metre-wide tunnel dug between 1810 and 1820, later refurbished in 2007. We left our bikes at the entrance and did the obligatory walk through the tunnel, only to find that we could have easily ridden around to the far side!
By now, we were craving coffee, and Col led the way. It was nearly lunchtime, and villages with food options were few and far between. Col determined that our best bet was Saint-Vit, just 2 km away around the next corner. As I followed, I turned the corner only to find a long, straight incline stretching into the clouds. I hate climbs, especially when they feel unnecessary! I stopped my bike, picked up some sizable rocks, and threw them at Col. I missed.
When I finally reached the boulangerie, after everyone else, I cursed Col and ordered big! While eating, we met Patrick, an avid cyclist intrigued by our journey. He shared stories and gave us tips about travelling the Loire Valley. Remembering Michel from yesterday and his wonderful gift, we all smiled to ourselves.
After Patrick left, we quickly finished our meal and sprinted 5 km along the EuroVelo path, waiting for Patrick to show up with champagne. We waited and waited. No Patrick. So, we moved on.
By now, the gorge had given way to farmland, and you could see the effects of the drought. Although the fields looked green at the moment, we saw acres of sunflowers and corn (maize) dead or dying. The recent rains had come too late to save this year's crop.
We continued on to Choisey, passing through Dole, and checked into an Ibis Budget hotel. After a quick shower, we raced downstairs to catch an Uber into Dole, some 5 km away, for dinner and a few beers. After trying to book an Uber for 20 minutes without success, we gave up and asked the hotel receptionist to call a taxi. After three attempts, she finally found one for us. This should have been a warning sign for anyone with common sense - but not us! We figured it was 4 p.m. on a Friday and rideshare services were just busy!
We took a quick tour of Dole’s city centre, including the beautiful Notre-Dame Collegiate Church. Inside, it was peaceful and serene, and the craftsmanship was masterful. Oh, and the building didn’t collapse when Brett walked in!
After touring the historic centre and admiring some great street art, we stopped at The Beffroi (The Belfry) for a beer or two (I also had a chocolate ice cream!). We found a nearby restaurant for what turned out to be our best meal in France so far. Très bien and magnifique.
Then the fun began …
You'd think we would have anticipated the challenge of getting a ride back, given our struggle getting into town. It was now 8:40 p.m. on a Friday night in a city of 23,000 people - and we found ourselves stranded!
Uber gave us nothing. Desperate, we trudged back to the restaurant and asked them to call us a taxi. They kindly called four different services - nothing. It wasn’t that they were all busy; some were just taking the night off, and others didn’t answer their phones (most of the taxi services are run by individual owners). Finally, the restaurant owner suggested we try the train station (la Gare), so off we trudged again.
Somehow, we ended up splitting into two groups. Col and Brett used Google Maps to navigate to the station, while David and I asked a group of local teenagers for directions. One particularly inebriated (and possibly more) teenager decided to personally escort us on a kilometre-long walk to the station through the winding streets of Dole. Along the way, he spoke to me non-stop in a mix of French and Arabic. I gathered he was immensely proud of his Moroccan heritage, was born in a town outside of Dole, and now worked here. The rest was a blur. He was so animated that all I could hear behind me was David doubled over with laughter.
When we finally saw the station in the distance, I convinced the young man we’d be fine from there and that he should rejoin his friends. He was really helpful, and we appreciated his kindness to a couple of strangers.
Shortly afterward, Col and Brett arrived at the station, but there were no taxis in sight. The only people around were those waiting to pick up family and friends arriving from Paris. One local guy took pity on us and tried calling taxis from a list I photographed in the station office (much to the annoyance of an inhospitable employee). After three calls, he found Milo, a taxi driver extraordinaire, who finally took us back to the Ibis.
Home sweet home at last!
Today's ride: 60 km (37 miles)
Total: 210 km (130 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 2 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |