France for Walkers - Walking In The Jura

Long before we set eyes on him, our guide’s melodious voice announced his imminent appearance. As we waited outside a mountain lodge on the grassy slopes of Mont d’Or, the sound of his high and low notes resonated across the meadows as he yodelled his way up the slope towards us.

It might all sound a little Sound of Music, but when Troudix hove into sight dressed in traditional alpine style we realised that here was no ordinary guide and this would be no everyday trip through the mountains.

BACK TO NATURE

We had come to the Jura in Franche-Comté for a summer hike and to discover first-hand the amazing sights to be found there.

Troudix was going to take us to the summit of the Mont d’Or, which at 4,799ft is the highest peak on the French side of the range, and, along the way, he was going to provide a wealth of local knowledge and insight to make the experience truly memorable.

The Jura mountains, which stretch for 200 kilometres from the north to the south of the region, have remained relatively undiscovered by tourists and it’s difficult to understand why. The area boasts miles of alternating valleys and peaks as far as the eye can see, lush evergreen forests, fresh mountain streams and unpolluted lakes. What better place to truly get away from it all and discover the great outdoors?

There is a feeling of space and calm in the area. Small villages and Swiss-style wooden chalets dot a landscape which is mostly agricultural and inhabited by those who seek a rural retreat far from the pressures of city life. Some of the hamlets are so remote they don’t even have mains water. Instead, the large wide roofs capture and channel rainwater which is then filtered for washing and cleaning.

As you look across the valleys, and in complete contrast to the chalets, distinctive imperial-style clochers (church bell towers) stand out proudly, the more extravagant ones being decorated with multi-coloured tiles. Curiously, and despite the fact that there are an amazing 665 in the region, they aren’t particularly French.

In fact, they originate from 14th-century Florence and reached the region in the 16th century when it was under Spanish rule.

The mountains are also home to the Grande Traversée du Jura (GTJ), a 400-kilometre trail which runs from Mandeure in the northern département of Doubs to Culoz in the south. In winter, snow blankets the peaks attracting French winter sports enthusiasts, but British skiers tend to bypass the Jura in favour of the bigger resorts in the Alps and are missing a trick by doing so because the region has much to offer. This is the home of ski de fond, cross-country skiing, and the GTJ is the setting for France’s longest cross-country skiing race, an exhausting 76-kilometre course which takes about six to eight days to complete.

Another way to discover the region during the hostile winter months is by dog-sledding. The husky dog centre at l’Odysée Blanche in Chaux Neuve trains their arctic dogs progressively throughout autumn so that when winter arrives, they are able to run long distances over roads submerged in fresh snow and lost in the darkness of night. When spring arrives and the snow begins to melt, a different mountain range emerges with lush green peaks and valleys teeming with wildlife and bathed in sunshine. The varied, undulating terrain makes it an ideal destination for mountain bikers and walkers with a love of the great outdoors. The internationally renowned GTJ VTT (vélo tout terrain) route is open to mountain-bikers from May to October, covering some 400 kilometres from the Gorge du Doubs in the north to the Jura mountains in the south.

For the less ambitious tourist, the region offers more than 3,500 kilometres of tracks of varying lengths and difficulties. Those who enjoy white-knuckle rides will head for the ski resort of Métabief, at the foot of Mont d’Or, where adrenaline-junkies get their thrills by cascading down the steep, grassy pistes on specially adapted bikes.

Arguably, the most pleasurable way to discover this breathtaking region is on foot. The paths of the Haut-Jura were first made by Benedictine monks and have been used throughout the ages by all sorts of travellers including peddlers, smugglers, farmers and children on their way to school. The GTJ is now one of France’s largest networks of sign-posted trails for walkers of all levels, and it was the tuneful arrival of Troudix which heralded our departure to explore one of them.

Before setting off on such a hike, though, a wholesome meal is recommended, readily supplied by local hotels and restaurants. For us that meant a hearty lunch at La Boissaude, a quaint alpine mountain lodge on the slopes of Mont d’Or. After fuelling up with a substantial lunch of traditional sausage meats, potatoes and cheese (of course) and packing the bottles of water essential for our walk, I felt in good shape for the looming expedition along the Grande Traversée with our singing guide.

ON TOP OF THE WORLD

After his melodious entrance, Troudix, had immediately endeared himself to everyone in our group with his friendly face and cheerful demeanour. And, as we slowly climbed the Mont d’Or (which as well as being the highest peak on the French side

of the Jura mountains is famous for the distinctive, creamy AOC-registered Vacherin cheese) we benefited greatly from his expert knowledge. Although clouds obscured the stunning and expected views (to my surprise I discovered that on a clear day you can see as far as Mont Blanc), the view remained breathtaking and the dramatic landscapes that dominate this region were more evident than ever before. The long mountain range extended before us with craggy ridges exposing the Jurassic rocks. Below us were endless forests and valleys including Lac de Joux and Lac Saint-Point, two of the region’s biggest lakes.

And so we set off, behind our triumphantly yodelling guide and the fresh, clean air filled our lungs as we hiked our way along the stony paths. Along the way we crossed pretty mountain meadows teeming with wild flowers, in particular the gentian, a tall robust plant whose large yellow flowers stand out head and shoulders above the rest. Its roots are made into a strong liqueur, liqueur de gentiane, a thick concoction drunk mainly by hardy locals and unwitting tourists.

Making our way over to a gatepost which marked the border between France and Switzerland, we came across a rustic wooden auberge where a small group of Swiss ramblers greeted us and invited us to stop for a rest. While we enjoyed the view and savoured a small glass of the local white wine with smoked sausage, Troudix assembled a cor des alpes, a long horn not dissimilar to a didgeridoo. We sat in quiet admiration while he demonstrated another musical talent by playing a song which was clearly as close to his heart as those of the ramblers.

A DAY TO REMEMBER

After he had finished the rest of the world seemed a long way away and we sat almost overwhelmed by the tranquil silence of the mountains, interrupted only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional lowing of a Montbéliarde cow in a nearby field. Overhead, rain clouds were looming ever closer so we decided to bid farewell to our Swiss companions and make our way back. Still yodelling, Troudix set a good pace along the rocky path with the agility of a sprightly mountain goat and we descended in time to beat the rain, feeling both tired and exhilarated to have spent such a memorable day.

Dinner at Le Jardin de la Rivière, a small family-run hotel in the quiet village of Foncine-le-Haut greatly exceeded my expectations. I had chosen a vegetable terrine to start followed by salmon on a bed of spinach, exquisitely served and worthy of the finest of Parisian restaurants. After a pleasant evening and a peaceful night’s sleep, I awoke to find the bright July sun glistening in a cloudless blue sky.

It was perfect weather for trekking with donkeys; another enjoyable way to explore the GTJ routes. Our guide for this expedition was Christian, whom we met at his wooden chalet-style house set high up a mountain with stunning views across forested hills and fertile fields.

TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY

Christian welcomed us into his home, which he had named ‘Modestine’ after Robert Louis Stevenson’s donkey in Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes. As he finished preparing for our trip we were able to see the fascinating design of the open-plan living area; at one end a large window revealed a section of the chalet which was home to his two donkeys and more than a handful of deer. Despite what must be an often isolated and lonely way of living, it was easy to be envious of Christian’s rustic lifestyle which seemed to take the idea of ‘the good life’ to a whole new dimension.

Ferdinand and Diego, our two long-eared companions for the trip, were suitably uninterested by our arrival, but once we had loaded our bags into their baskets and set off up a steep path, shaded by trees and muddy in places from the previous day’s rain, they became far more interesting travelling partners. Donkey trekking is an ideal way for families to explore because the animals can not only carry the luggage, but also the small children if they get tired.

Christian’s life seemed closely entwined with his natural surroundings and somehow it didn’t surprise me that he knew the name and healing powers of every species of mountain plant and flower we came across. We emerged from the shady path into a meadow where a herd of beautiful brown and white cows were grazing. The montbéliarde cow is the only breed allowed to produce the region’s famous Comté cheese; feeding on the rich alpine flora, the cows’ rich milk produces the cheese’s distinctive creamy taste. The area is home to nearly 200 fruitières (co-operatives) that use traditional methods to produce Comté cheese between March and September. During the autumn and winter the cows’ milk is used to produce the Vacherin cheese, a well-loved component of many of the regional dishes such as fondu and raclette where melted cheese is poured over potatoes and cured meats.

As the mid morning sun beat down on the backs of our necks, we struggled up the last steep incline with the sure-footed donkeys leading the way. And the effort was well worth it; the summit rewarded us with excellent views over the Val de Mouthe, one of the region’s glacial valleys. From this 360-degree vantage point we deeply inhaled the warm mountain air and looked out across the green valley dominated by flora and fauna, with only a handful of small villages sprinkled sparingly across the landscape.

Standing there looking at the impressive views and absorbing the sense of calm and closeness to nature, I realised that this unspoiled part of France is a special place—a beautiful area with much to offer those who want to escape the stresses of modern-day life. Let’s hope not too many people discover it too quickly.