The inescapable headwind of the Doubs

July 23, 2018

Day 2: Forest of Chaux - Clerval. Rivers followed: Doubs

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Despite my Satan's Claw-inspired fears, I slept remarkably well and rather late. It was past 8 by the time I crawled out of my tent, to another beautiful sun-dappled day, and put together my breakfast of coffee and croissants.

I had felt good the previous day, and despite the heat and the mild headwind that seemed to be coming from the North had covered the distance I wanted in quite a short day of pedalling. My broad plan for the day was to get as far East as I could, hopefully into the vicinity of Belfort and so at the gateway to Alsace. If I could get that far, it was even possible that I could cross the Rhine and camp over the border the next day, giving 4 clear days to cross the Black Forest. I had very roughly scoped out the big forest to the West of Belfort, the Boise de Granges, as a good place to wild camp. Of course, given how much dense forest was all around this region I felt a little foolish in going out my way to find such large expanses.

Either way, the first part of my route obviously headed East to Besançon. I had enjoyed the river and canal-side paths more than I had expected the previous day - so I planned to finish my traversal of the forest, and then work back to the Doubs and the main cycle route.

I packed away my camp, and as a parting - and slightly occult - gesture buried the remains of my cheese, which would certainly not survive another day in the heat. English cheese in French soil - there's some symbolism here.

It was past 9am when I left, but the Grand Contour road running East through the forest was still deserted. I was swiftly on my way, feeling only a little stiffness in the legs. Before 10km had gone by I emerged on the one main road running North through the forest. There was a cycleway alongside, but there was a good 10km of further forest I could cut through to the East, past the Baraques-du-Huit. On my map it was down as a Route Forestier, and in practice was a rather rough dirt track. There were some deep ruts, but as always I am surprised and heartened by how well the fully loaded shift does on bad surfaces. The slower pace and more technical riding was good for my waking-up body as well, and I enjoyed going a bit slower. I actually continued to the East for a long time - at least 5km - before seeing a familiar pillar and a sign for the Baraques-du-Huit. It seemed my map was wrong here, but I was going in the right direction and all seemed good.

My camping spot just before I left it. No trace to be seen - and the ritually buried cheese is, of course, invisible

While it was a pleasant jaunt off-road into the forest, I was quite relieved to see this pillar and a sign for the Baraques-du-huit

I took the Northern turn towards Fraisans and the edge of the forest, and found surfaced road again. After a while I popped out by a car park for the forest park, and got rid of my empty beer bottles and other rubbish in the bins.

I had emerged on the road heading back to the SE to Courtefontaine - so instead of continuing to cut North to the Doubs, I decided to follow this and cut off a loop of the river. This took me over hilly and rolling terrain, but to my satisfaction - once I'd put a little more air in the tyres - I had no trouble with the hill climbing. After CourteFontaine I had a short but hair-raising descent down to the level of the river, and took no time to find the bridge over. Actually the Doubs is split in two here - I crossed the first stream and couldn't see the cycle route anywhere, before closer squinting at the map revealed I had to cross the river again.

Some of the rolling hills around Courtfontaine. This was just before the nice descent to the river

Back on the dedicated cycleway. They really are very well maintained.

Navigation was easy now, and I was joined by what was, for me, an unfamiliar number of touring cyclists, some obviously on day trips, but many with even more clobber than me. I started off at some pace, but the day was really heating up, and the mild headwind of the previous day was now significant. I couldn't work out if it was coming from the North (which the course of the river often took) or the East - it seemed to be quite persistent.

The scenery progressively improved, with rounded, wooded hills rising directly and quite steeply from the river's banks. This was a welcome distraction, as I felt myself beginning to flag. It was at this point that I first noticed a significant downside of the well-marked river cycleways. While the effort that's gone into providing them is impressive, they are so easy to cycle that they take almost all the thought required away from navigation. They become a bit like bike motorways - they avoid the centre of villages, keep you separated from other traffic, and even had "exits" and long-distance kilometre counts. The impression was also bolstered by the number of other touring bikes - at many times I was just one in a stream.

The upshot of this, for me at least, is a natural tendency to become fixated on how far to the next waypoint, as faithfully listed on every sign. If you're speeding along then that's well and good, but if you're flagging a bit: say you have a headwind, are very exposed to the sun, and are going slower than usual, it can become a slog. At times, long, straight and flat segments continued for many kilometres, and it seemed like I was fairly crawling along them. Later I was amazed how much less effort it was to traverse hilly terrain in between, when on paper it should have been much harder: I think was purely psychological, as there every hill seems like a victory, you can cruise downhill, and the distance is naturally cut up into small segments (and you have to continuously think about navigation of the next one).

For the moment I was making good progress, though. I found another point d'eau and refilled myself and my bottles, which were running very low after using water to camp. I figured that water sources would be pretty frequent and was beginning to get over my reluctance to travel without litres of extra water - so I didn't carry any extra in my water bladder, despite the now searing heat.

One of the excellent - if sometimes dispiriting - signs all along the cycleway. The "no cycling" sign confused me for a while, until I realised that it meant the *dedicated* cycleway was coming to an end

Impressive old mill when the Doubs rejoins

A typical scene of the Doubs weaving between the high, wooded banks. The river wiggles quite a lot, but the headwind seemed to follow me pretty consistently

Canal boats can go through this tunnel, to be greeted by a strange "shower curtain"

The scenery started to get very becoming. I spent a lot of time fighting the wind, though

More serene-looking cycle path. On a still day this would have been a delight

It was only 20km, but it seemed a long time before the fortress of Besançon appeared above the river. The site of the city is really dramatic, and you can see how it would have been a defensive choke-point. Following the river I never actually saw any of the urban area - just the enormous walls of the citadel high above.

To cut off a loop of the river, the canal cuts under the high ridge of the citadel through a 200m long tunnel - and the bike path runs alongside it (the elevation map has no idea about this, so there's a rather anomalous spike on the route at this point). The way is lit quite dimly, and water drips from plants growing around the lights. As I was passing through I shared the tunnel with half a dozen other cyclists going both directions, so it wasn't eerie, but I took it pretty slowly as visibility wasn't great. As I emerged I was overtaken by an old guy on a racing bike who had been following me through, who gave me a friendly wave.

In its efficient way, the cycleway immediately provided me with a sign for Chalèze, further upstream along the Doubs. I pressed on, leaving Besançon behind me surprisingly quickly. Soon I was back between fields, with lots of canouists on the river. The sun was at its highest, and when I found another tap along the route I downed two water bottles-full, 1.5 litres, in quick succession before replenishing.

Fortunately, I soon saw a shady beach alongside the water, I thought it was a good time to take a break for lunch.

The fortress of Besançon appears in the distance

Looking up at the fortress walls from the river below

The tunnel under the ridge. Originally this was built for the canal, but the - somewhat perilously dark - cycleway follows alongside

Stopping for lunch. Not pictured: heat haze

The little beach where I ate my lunch. There is some shade somewhere off to the left.

Sitting in the shade and working through a lunch of bread, cheese and crisps I felt significantly better - but it was clear that I had to limit how far I could go this day. On paper a 30km diversion to get to some substantial woods to wild-camp in seemed sensible, but it now looked both unnecessary and an impractical extra distance. I adjusted my plan to stay close to the river, where it would at least be flat, and hope for frequent enough campsites. I would get as close to Montbéliard as I could - and if I needed an extra day to get to the Rhine, then so be it.

So I continued rather mindlessly East along the river. The heat and headwind were unrelenting now: as the banks of the river drew up to make a steep valley, it seemed the wind was actually being funnelled along the course of the river, so even as the course meandered North to South-East I remained exposed. I don't have a great deal of memory of the part of the ride - I just kept heading towards the next town, Baume-les-Dames.

Nice polychrome roof. I stopped in this little village to refill my water, from a public fountain this time

The banks of the river started to draw up and become quite dramatic

The sun was still too high in the sky for the high banks to cast any shade. The tarmac of the cycleway was just radiating heat at this point in the afternoon

I reached Baume-les-Dames having done less than 80km, but feeling all but worn out. The first thing I saw was a campsite, right next to the bike path. That and the sign indicating only 20km to the next town, Clerval, gave me a lift. It was still early in the day, and I figured that I had that last 20km left in me, to make it a respectable 95km or so.

The sun was now lower in the sky, and there was the odd fluffy cloud which mean I could get a bit more shade. The banks of the river had now turned to high, white limestone bluffs, and there were far fewer other cyclists - I had the trail almost completely to myself. I spun through the kilometres slowly but much more happily. I was banking on their being a campsite in Clerval, but if there wasn't, I noticed one or two enticing looking clear areas just off the cycleway and by the river. It was a bit exposed, but I was sure I could camp in them if I needed to. If there was nothing suitable in Clerval, I would refill on water (and, ideally, beer) and then back-track to one of these spots.

I was somewhat put out though when my computer indicated I'd reached 95km, but we were clearly still some distance from Clerval. In fact, the path turned away from the river, and I had to climb up a remarkably steep slope to Roches-les-Clerval. The last 5km were truly grueling - steep climbs and sudden descents, all the time away from the river. I started to feel that I really didn't want to back-track along here.

Finally I made the last descent into the small town of Clerval. It's a fairly tiny place, but a Tabac was open, and I was greatly relieved to see a (hand-drawn) sign pointing to a campsite. It was right in the centre of town, and completely open - indeed, as it was only 5.30pm, there was nobody in the little reception hut. I gratefully pedalled in, looking for a shady spot, and was helped out by another cycle tourist who indicated a good spot.

I - rather slowly - put my tent up, and then went and got a shower while I waited for the reception to open. The site was basic - there was no toilet role/seats provided, and the light kept turning itself off in the showers - but that was perfect for me. When I'd put on some clean clothes, I noticed the little hut was open, and then wondered over there. I spent some time introducing myself in bad French, only to realise I was talking to the wrong bloke. When the guardian arrived he was a very jolly man who charged me €6, a bargain, and seemed very grateful when I had some change.

Steep limestone bluffs surround the Doubs at this point and provided precious shade

Coming down into Clerval, a sight for sore eyes

My camping spot. I hadn't realised at this point that I'd set up directly under a very bright lamp.

I set off into Clerval to see if I could find anything to eat, and most importantly, drink. It's a bit of a one-horse town, though very attractive nestled as it is between steep limestone cliffs, and there didn't seem to be a thing open. By the time I wondered up the high street it was past 7pm, and the Tabac and small supermarket had also closed.

Cursing my indecision, I wondered onto the bridge crossing the Doubs, and could see a couple of hotels further down along the river. One of them had a working bar - frequented it seemed, mostly by truckers on the route - so I sat outside and had a couple of drinks. I was joined by a friendly couple, and I managed to hold forth in bad French about my journey, and they were gratifyingly impressed (which was a bit of a boost, as I'd had a pretty poor run of things on the day). As I went to order beer, one of the trucker guys quietly translated the numbers into English almost automatically - quite a nice gesture, really. It was a very low-key place, but exactly what I needed.

Suitably relaxed, I wobbled back to the camping and cooked up some more pasta for dinner. As I was happily tucking in in the falling light, there was what appeared to be a sort of sunburst over my head. Quite befuddled, it took me a while to realise that a very bright LED lamp had turned on, right over the top of my tent. It was like being on stage, and plainly I couldn't sleep there. With a fair bit of cursing, I took the pegs out the tent, lifted the thing fully assembled to a darker pitch, and pegged it back up.

Clerval reflected in the river in the falling light. The hotel in which I had a nice drink and chat is just visible, along with the truckers trucks out in front.

Today's ride: 101 km (63 miles)
Total: 218 km (135 miles)

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