May 30th
Verdun sur Doubs to Osselle 103 kms
After a two day rest I am not sure whether I feel
revitalized or stiff! Verdun is a beautiful small town, the confluence of two
of the most attractive rivers in France, the Saone and the Doubs and the first
20 kilometres to Seurre, meandering easily between the two rivers, at least had
the advantage of loosening me up. I was very pleased that I left the road at
Chazelle to take a recommended but quite overgrown track because there I met Dieter from Hildersheim
with his donkey and cart on his way to St Jacques de Compostella where he
expected to arrive in mid-September. Quietly spoken and deeply tanned, he was a
man about my own age and seemed perfectly content with the world, although he
was having some difficulty in persuading his donkey to push through the long
grass. In Seurre by the majestic river Saone, we met a very old cyclist (I
would have put him at nearer eighty than seventy) weighed down a little with
his luggage. He had come from the Black Forest, on his own. Unfortunately, he
told us as quietly as my friend with the donkey, “ich habe keine frau”. (to
help him carry his load).I felt very humbled, and not for the first time on
this trip.
Unfortunately, the D976 to St Jean de Losne had little to
recommend it but the town itself is very attractive. We ate a simple lunch on
the quai watching a man on a huge converted barge (once again flying an
Australian flag) endlessly cleaning the few square metres of his bridge. Next
to him a chap in an even fancier pleasure cruiser (this one flying a Swiss
flag) had a pot of white paint and was meticulously “repairing” the tiniest
scratch or disfigurement on the paintwork of his already immaculate boat. I had
the distinct impression that neither of these men had enough to do. Maybe they
should get on a bike!
I made up a lot of time on the excellent voie verte along
the rive droite of the Saone before turning sharp right into the Rhone Rhine
canal, which quickly seemed to lose its sense of importance. The huge chemical
factory, the Usine Solvay, was certainly a blot on the landscape (perhaps the
first of the trip so far) but Dole, one of my favourite places, more than made
up for it. It was here that I first saw the enticing, ironic signposts: Nantes
(par centre historique) and Budapest (par centre historique), which had decided me to extend the idea and attempt
to travel under my own steam from the
most westerly point to the most easterly point (give or take some few
kilometres) of Europe. (purists would
include Iceland, of course, but I
haven’t).
From Dole it was extremely pleasant riding along the banks
of the Doubs, with one or two incursions into the surrounding countryside. My
own “department” of Jura, mysteriously wooded and hilly is becoming one of the
most attractive of all.
Another satisfying day towards the east west watershed which
I am still hoping to reach before June 4th.
103 kms.
Total since
Galway 1606 kms.
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