Jura

From Montbéliard
to Morez

Break out...

Walking is like escaping. Before taking off, you think you're physically invincible, as if your physical parts remain at home and your senses go on holiday... endlessly walking, leaving before twilight, only to stop when the sun has set.

... in the Jura

I was extremely fixed on realising this urge. I took the night train to Paris, connecting to the early morning train to Montbéliard. In the meantime reading a book and occasionally glancing out of the window, only disorganised thoughts turned around in my brain. Bare fields, the grain cut, looked grim. Montbéliard - the city of Peugeot - looked grey and dull. The sun was about to break through the clouds, but it failed and the clouds were stuck in a painfull brightness, which, combined with the long journey, gave me a headache.

Some practical advice:

• Topoguide
• Maps
• Lodging
• Food
• Links
• Difficulties
• Scetch map
• The hike

The walk:

• Dasle - Chamesol
• Chamesol - Goumois
• Goumois - le Pissoux
• Le Pissoux - Le Grand Mont
• Le Grand Mont - Les Granges Bailly
• Les Granges Bailly - Mouthe
• Mouthe - Bois d'Amont
• Bois d'Amont - Morez

Some advice

Lodging

Off season lodging is restricted. Think smart and carry a tent so you are indepedent of everything and anybody. Of course, in autumn and spring, the sun sets early and your tent turns into a dull cave. Then, in some places, you can find "abri's", half open or closed simple huts, usually marked on the 1:25.000 maps. In this case, you will be glad to have a good sleeping bag with you. These abri's are found mainly along the Doubs (the river) and in the Parc Naturel Régional du Haut-Jura.

Off season, you have a good (bad?) chance the gîtes and hotels are closed. That's what happened to me, 'cause I wasn't that smart to take a tent with me (sigh). Almost every night, I had to walk many many miles extra to find a place to sleep, only because the planned hut turned out to be closed. Quite a frustrating experience to be walking at seven o'clock at night, when the sun has set. I hate the owners of those huts, who only open their place in summer, to sell hot meals. Well, in a way it is pretty to walk in the dark, spotting lights in the valley, orientating on tender light.

For the rest, you should refer to the FFRP guide (see above). Every hut and gîte is there, including address and phone numbers. Note: the gîte near Le Pissoux (not far from Villers-le-Lac) no longer exists.

Apart from the gîtes d'étappe, mentioned in the FFRP guide, you will come across gîtes rurale, mainly in the villages. They will usually turn you away, because they lodge people for longer periods only.

The walk

Day 1: Dasle - Chamesol

Also, some strange rock formations reminds of the Vosges: Le Pont Sarrazin, a natural arch in limestone.

The sun showed itself when I left the wood and entered a village, Abbévillers, where I allowed myself some rest and a coke in a pub in front of which some boys showed off their motorcycles.

Late in the afternoon, the sun washed over the land, low over the horizon. My trail followed the Swiss-French border for miles, on a kind of ridge with beech and fir to my left and right.

Day 2: Chamesol - Goumois

Imagine the hills in this friendly part of the Jura: quite small and regularly rounded, with dense woods on the slopes and tops. Mainly along the streams in the narrow valleys, fields can be found. My walk today passed through these forests for three-quarters of the time, now and again leaving the trees and crossing some fields or an occasional little village.

Near the village Soulce-Cernay I met with the river Doubs for the first time. It meandered gently through the green hills. From now on, this river would follow me every day I walked in the Jura. The path continued through forest and meadows, climbing and descending, passing the odd little boring village. When the afternoon came to an end, the sun even peeped through the clouds. On the other bank of the Doubs, in Switzerland, it painted the forest in a bright color. I descended the last miles to the border village Goumois, where, contrary to the places I had passed today, some action was going on in the streets. A shop even had opened its doors and some cars passed the bridge over the Doubs to Switzerland.

It turned out I had to walk to Switzerland (100 yards) to find a sleeping place. The gîte d'étappe on the French side was closed. The Swiss customs gave me the key of a bomb shelter (see picture). Price: 10 Swiss Francs. The shelter had cost the community half a million franc. Once, it had to protect civilians in an atomic war. Now, it was considered a waste of money. But, fortunately, walkers gave it a new use in life. It was not exactly a cosy place, behind fifty centimetres of concrete. But for that purpose, and a glass of wine, I found a café near the bridge.

Day 3: Goumois - le Pissoux

On the third day, the forest smelled fresh and moist. Fumes of the swirling river rose up towards a bright sky. A promising start of the day, but not for long. Mist gathered to clouds, and clouds stuck together, and I hadn't left Goumois before it started to drizzle, the start of a very wet day. It was a meaningfull setting for the hike of today along a wild river.

On the French side of the Doubs, a road turned into a path, climbed a little, then touched the edge of the water. Gradually, the gorge closed, and rocks towered over me. After several hours, I reached the Echelles de la Mort, a rocky outcrop I had to pass using three iron ladders that brought me back to the riverbed.

For miles, I continued along the river, upstream, untill it widened and became a lake. On the Swiss side a pastoral landscape emerged, sounding cowbells, showing a gently sloping meadow and swans floating on the water. The sun shone for a little while.

I was tempted to make a detour and cross the bridge to the other bank where I spotted a restaurant. But it turned out to be closed. A sudden cloudburst made an end to the story. So, I walked on, for hours in the rain, following the Doubs, with only a short stop in a gloomy, German like hotel where nobody was staying. Again, the gorge narrowed, the river increased in strenght, until reaching a very large, groaning electricity plant, after which the tumult suddenly came to an end. The water had disappeared in pipes underground and only a pitiful tiny stream was left over.

It started to get dark. I climbed out of the gorge, following a tarmac road, to the village ofLe Pissous. Darkness was all around when I visited a café to ask for the gîte d'étappe.

Well, the gîte was closed down. For an hour I had to walk in the dark to the farm Le Grand Cerneux, higher up, where, according to the barkeeper, I would find a bed. "Are you sure?", I asked him suspiciously. Yes, no doubt at all. Meanwhile, I was walking in the snow, along a very dark road, looking for an invisible farm that turned out to be as desolate as the forest around. A few hundred yards away, a small light of a neigbouring farm was visible. Just at that moment, a man was leaving the house. He was willing to give me a drive to a village nearby and a gîte rurale where I got a comfortable room. I felt pretty tired and cold, even after a hot shower.

Day 4: Le Pissoux - Le Grand Mont

I was brought back by the owner of the gîte to the Doubs, to the place where I left te path yesterday. It was nearby an elongated water reservoir, with some hotels at one end. The place was empty in this season. Backstream, not far from here, the Doubs dived into a deep hole: le Saut du Doubs. You can imagine the brute force, since the river was swollen by the rainfall of the passed days. I looked from above into the agonising, never ending mass of water.

I walked back a little. The road climbed untill a beautifull panorama on the lake unfolded, hidden between wooded banks. Following an asphalt road, I reached Villers-le-Lac, a regional village. From here, you can take a train to Besançon or to Switzerland, Le Locle.

I left Villers-le-Lac, with the shining asphalt under my feet, and from here on a different Jura started. I left the Doubs, here, at the upper copurse, a tame river. The trail took me to the higher, extensive parts of the Jura. The hills changed into slow rolling plateaus. Forests alternated with meadows and colossal black firs. On the Swiss side of the border, the landscape looked more neatly ordered.

I walked through mist and snow. A herd of deer fled from a field. The border village Le Gardot was amusing. I had a choice between a French and a Swiss café. I chose the last one. Inside, French speaking people played cards, using old German expressions.

Day 5: Le Grand Mont - Les Granges Bailly

This night, the weather changed, and the character of the trip turned 180 degrees. After so many wet days as many quiet sunny days followed. With it, the land changed totally.

I left the sleeping village. Meadows, frosted and blueish green. The sky, freezing cold. A fragrant mist rose from the forest and flooted like a lace curtain above the trees. The sunrays reached the first hill tops. And now for something completely different! From this day onwards, I walked through an exuberant and colourful Jura. Even, I had the impression of having more animals around.

The path continued along the border, and sometimes I passed a farm, but no people around.

Leaving the forest behind, the path entered a valley with villages and meadows on both sides. Another forest and a second, very quiet valley with nothing else than one farm. The view grew as I was climbing out of this valley, until a much larger valley opened below me, with, again, the Doubs in the centre of it.

This point gave me a good view on the Château de Joux, on its high position on a rocky island above the riverbed, a castle as you will only find in childrens books. The best view is from the walls of the Fort du Larmont Inférieur. Not only the castle is clearly visible from here, but also the village and the busy traffic road heading in a straight line towards the South.

The path continued descending to this village, Le Frambourg. On the other side of the valley, it went up again, climbing past a few houses, through forests. Another nice view I got from the Roche Sarrasine, looking back on the way I had walked. Just at that moment, the sun peeped through the clouds, and it choosed a bright green meadow to strew its warmth upon. On my last feet, I shuffled over a flat road to Les Fourgs, while the sun set and the land turned red.

You will not be amazed, I guess, when I tell you the gîte d'étappe in this village was closed. I got growing doubts about the formula of the gîtes d'étappe. Shouldn't they keep their doors open for 365 days a year? Why did the administration pay for them (if they did, I don't know).

I was lucky to get some help from a local, who gave me a lift to another place to stay, some miles outside Les Fourgs: les Granges Bailly, a gîte as well. The owner was at home, building a huge shed with his own hands. Inside the house, he had the drawings of the building under construction, drawn by himself. He only needed help when putting the large beams in their place. While I was trying to make myself comfortable in the kitchen, the phone rang almost continuously. "Just leave it", he said. Nice guy, so please greet him for me if you ever pass his place.

Day 6: Les Granges Bailly - Mouthe

"I will return in winter", I promised the man. (I actually tried so, in the winter of 2000. But this winter was very warm, and when I visited the higher parts of the Jura, there was not enough snow for skiing. I then went to the Black Forest, for walking. One day, the trip report may be found here).

The morning was freezing cold, and very clear. Again, I walked to Les Fourgs over the plateau, the same way as I walked yesterday. Behind Les Fourgs, far away, a little chapel was visible. An hour later I passed it. Between the forests and above the fields, a faint mist lingered.

Les Hôpitaux-Neufs was less interesting. Heavy traffic dominated the main street. The village lay at the foot the Mont d'Or, a 1461 meter high mountain, one of the highest in the Jura. The way to the top was disfigured by ski-pistes, cable-lifts, mountain-bike routes et cetera. But for the simple walker, this was compensated considerably by the spectacular view over the Swiss lowlands, hidden under a blanket of clouds, and far away, towering above it, the Alps. With the use of an orientation tabel, I could pick out the Mont Blanc and the Jungfrau. Some years ago I looked from the latter this way, not knowing that today I would be able to look back.

The Mont d'Or is a long combe, steep at the Eastern slope, gently rolling down at the Western side into France. This plateau, one of the highest in the Jura, is scatterd with characteristic summer farms, low buildings, mainly roof. Some have been converted into hotels and restaurants. The typical red-white cows graze between the disordered forests and tree groups. For the first time during my holiday, I met some other walkers.

Slowly, the path descended. Forest took over from the fields. Hours later, the path hit the valley, exactly on the spot where the Doubs originates. It's not exactly what you would call a spring. Here, a complete river pours out of the rocks.

The sun set. I walked the last miles to Mouthe. This time, I had no problem finding a place for the night. I lodged into a hotel.

Day 7: Mouthe - Bois d'Amont

Mouthe still rested in the shadow of the surrounding hills, when I left the next morning. Partly, the path went across frozen meadows, and partly it took a muddy track through a forest.

In Chaux-Neuve, the doors of a café stood welcomly open. The sun fell on the stone floor, the innkeeper swept it, the local newspaper lay waiting for customers on one of the small round tables. Well, Café crème with a croissant, of course! It felt like I was in Paris.

From here on, the path continued for a while through the grasslands - I spotted two playing foxes - and then turned South into dense forests. I entered the Parc Naturel Régional du Haut-Jura. There is one thing I don't understand: why is this called a protected area? Hunting and logging are still allowed in the parc!

They complain that their regional symbol, the Capercaillie or Grand Tétras as they call the bird here, is almost extinct. Only a small part of the parc is closed for hunters and loggers.

A few hours later, I reached Chapelle-des-Bois, a tourist village, but very quiet now in October. Passing the village, the path climbed a steep limestone wall, untill a nice view unfolded over the village, the partly overgrown meadows, and some lakes far away. Here, finally, I met two female Capercaillie birds flying up from a tree branch.

Almost more surprisingly, I met two walkers, complete with backpacks. They were Dutch, like me.

Now I diverted from the GR5 and kept a more Eastern course, in the direction of Bois d'Amont. The forests here were very exteded and wild. I hoped to find a place in Chalet Gaillard. But no, although this beautifully situated hut, submerged in the very extended and wild forests of this part of the Jura, was opened, it was already fully booked. No luck, this week. Well, no choice but to go on, still through the dense forests, untill I hit a narrow valley in which Bois d'Amont was situated. This was a quite large village, a through route for Swiss cities North of it. For the first time, I slept in a gîte! It was also my last night in the Jura.

Day 8: Bois d'Amont - Morez

The last day of my walk, I retraced my steps into the forests of the Parc Régional du Haute Jura. As was the case on the first day, hunters were active. The weather had changed. A light rain fell down. To keep the story short: I chose my own route through the forest, until Bellefontaine. Then, I took some rural roads to Morez, where I arrived early in the afternoon, exactly at the time of departure of the train to Besançon and Dijon. I was lucky. I spent some hours in Dijon, and took the evening TGV to Paris and the connecting night train to Holland. C'est ça.