Dasle to St Hippolyte: Day 162

A big change from yesterday, lots of walking uphill as I reached, then followed, the Swiss border.

Returning to Dasle from my Château in Beaucourt I popped into a boulangérie to pick up some breakfast, but no plain croissants! I had to make do with one filled with blueberry jam and a pain au raisin rather spoilt by an icing topping. Why do they make things so sweet! Then it was a brief walk over fields to the next village of Vandoncourt. Like many villages in the area it had a lavoir, a stone trough and water supply once used for washing clothes. I climbed out of Vandoncourt through woodland to reach the Pont Sarrazin, a limestone natural bridge in a narrow valley. Apparently a lady was kidnapped by a Saracen and to escape jumped off her horse into a gorge. A bridge miraculously appeared to save her from certain death. The Saracen tried to follow but the horse fell off the bridge and he died.

Le Pont Sarrazin.

My next village on the GR5 was Abbévillers, where I diverted to another boulangérie for a coffee and a "jambon fumé" roll for lunch. The kindly shop keeper also offered to fill up my water bottle, which was much appreciated as the weather was hotter than I expected. I had consulted various forecasts and monthly averages before my trip which had convinced me to bring winter gear, but today a sun hat would have helped and tomorrow is set to be warmer. Fortunately I added a tee shirt to my packing at the last moment.

More woodland followed with a number of climbs. The route led me to the French Swiss border which the GR5 ran along for several kilometres. About every hundred metres there was a square border stone. On one side an "F" was carved in the stone, and on the other, either the cross of the Swiss flag, or on older stones, a bear on a shield representing the Canton of Bern.

Swiss side of border stone.

I lunched in a dandelion covered field before walking down into the next village of Villars-lès-Blamont. In its centre there were a number of wooden figures doing various things: reading a book, showing a painting and removing one's head. Climbing into the woods beyond I reached the Fort Lomont Battery. Located on the top of limestone cliffs, an excellent position for defence, it was hard to see the remains due to all the trees, although some deep ditches cut into the rock were locally visible.

Wooden painter and dog.

I had been thinking of trees over the day. The beech saplings in the understorey beside the path had new, delicate, drooping leaves in a bright green. Over summer they will thicken and darken nourishing the young tree before turning brown and dropping at the end of the year. Lower down scattered over the earth beside the path, seedlings were bursting out of last year's nuts, so many, few, if any, will survive.

At the entrance of Chamesol there was an old customs hut, another sign I was close to the Swiss border. Now superfluous it was available to walkers who wished to rest or maybe shelter from the rain.

Looking down on St Hippolyte.

My approach to St Hippolyte, my destination for tonight, was downhill through deciduous woodland, losing much of the height I had gained in the day. A long descent resulted in complaints from my left knee and I was glad of a rest at a small chapel. Light shining through the stained glass windows gave a play of colours on the walls.

Tonight I am camping. Not many people were about this early in the season so I had plenty of choice on where to camp. Although the village had a number of restaurants, most seemed to be closed. Not fancying a take away kebab I have ended up at an expensive place. The soup had unrecognisable fungi floating in it, but tasted fine. I settled for trout with almonds for the main course which was not too costly and I could not resist the lemon meringue tart for dessert. Outside the window beside my table the River Doubs is flowing under a bridge. I shall be following the valley of this river for the next few days, some of it remote from settlements.

27.9 kilometres with 950 metres total ascent.