We had breakfast at the hotel to start the day before cycling through the historic part of Besancon. This place drips with history. After about half an hour of touring, we made our way towards the Eurovelo, passing the other side of the Citadel from where we entered the city yesterday. Today we're heading west for about 60 km to Choisey, near Dole.
The waters along the canals and river are so smooth, and the light is at an angle that makes the reflections of the cliff face, and autumn leaves, perfect picture. Like the past two days of riding, the colours of the leaves of the deciduous trees of the area are amazing.
Today is a continuation of the previous day's ride in a gorge, with steep hillsides of trees and exposed cliff faces. The breeze, at least for the morning, is at our backs.
Since the repairs to the bike yesterday, it feels fantastic. I feel fantastic.
I now focus on the many fisher folk I see along the banks of waterways! Fisherfolk are those who fish the canals but (generally) refuse eye contact or any other interaction with humans. No matter how many waves I make, or calls of 'bonjour', they refuse to respond. Tough call I know ... but prove me wrong!
Later in the morning, we stumbled across a waterfall tumbling across the face of a hole in a hillside wall. Close inspection found it was a 185-metre long and 6-metre wide tunnel through a hillside. Tunnel de Thoraise was dug between 1810 and 1820, before being refurbished in 2007.
After leaving our bikes at the entry, we did the obligatory walk through the tunnel, only to find that we could have ridden around to the far side!
By now we're craving a coffee and Col led the way. It was almost lunch, and villages and towns with food options were few and far between. Col determined that the best option was Saint-Vit just 2 km away around the next corner. As I followed, and turned that corner I just saw a long and straight incline that, for me, went into the clouds. I hate climbs, especially if you don't need to do them! I quickly stopped my bike, climbed off, picked up some sizable rocks, and proceeded to throw them at Col. I missed.
When I finally arrived at the boulangerie after everyone else, I cursed Col, and ordered big! While eating we met Patrick. Patrick was an avid cyclist, so was intrigued by our journey. He shared stories and gave us tips and tricks about travelling the Loire Valley. Remembering Michel from yesterday, and his wonderful gift, we all smiled to ourselves.
After Patrick left, we quickly finished our meal, sprinted 5 km along the Eurovelo path, and waited. We knew Patrick would arrive at any minute to offer us champagne. We waited and we waited. No Patrick. We left.
By now the gorge had given way to farmland and you could see the effects of the drought ... although it looked green at the moment, we saw acres of sunflowers and corn (maize) dead or dying. The recent rains had come too late to be of value for this year's crop it seems.
We continued on to Choisey, past Dole, to check into an Ibis Budget hotel. After a quick shower, we raced downstairs to Uber into Dole, some 5 km away, for dinner and a beer or three. After trying to book an Uber for 20 minutes, we relented and asked the hotel receptionist to request a taxi. After 3 calls she finally found someone to take us. This should have sounded a warning siren for any half-smart person ... but not us! We thought that, given it was 4pm on a Friday, ride share was busy!
We did a quick tour of the Dole city centre including the beautiful Notre-Dame Collegiate Church. We went inside to look around ... so peaceful and serene to spend time there, and the engineering and building were masterful. Oh ... and it didn't collapse when Brett walked in!
After touring the historic town centre and finding some great street art, we stopped at The Beff Roi (The Bellfrey) for a beer or two (and I had a chocolate ice cream!). We found a nearby restaurant for what was our best meal in France so far. Tres bien and magnifique!
Then the fun began.
You would think that we picked up on the challenge of getting a rideshare, taxi or other, given the inbound trip into town. It was now 8.40 pm, on a Friday night, in a city of 23,000 people ... and we found ourselves stranded! Uber gives us nothing! Finally, we trudged back to the restaurant to ask if they could order a taxi for us. They kindly rang four taxi services ... nothing. It wasn't that they were necessarily busy, some were having the night off and some didn't answer their phones (much of the taxi services seemed to be individual owners). Finally, the owner suggested we try for a taxi at the Gare (the train station), so off we trudged. Somehow we found ourselves split up - Col and Brett made their way to the station with the assistance of Google Maps, while David and I asked a group of local teenagers. One teenager, who it seemed was slightly inebriated (and possibly more), took it upon himself to personally escort us on a kilometre walk to la Gare, through the winding streets of Dole. All the way he spoke to me, non-stop, in a mixture of French and Arabic. I could make out that he was very proud of his Moroccan heritage, was born in a town outside of Dole, and now worked in Dole. Everything else was a blur. He was so animated that all I could hear behind me was David doubled up with laughter. Finally, with the station in our sights, I convinced the young man that we'd be fine and that he should rejoin his friends whom he'd left in the city. He was really helpful and we appreciated what he did for a couple of strangers.
We were joined shortly after by Brett and Col, with no taxis at the rank, nor anywhere in sight. There was a large queue of private cars waiting to pick up family and friends arriving from Paris. One guy obviously took pity on 4 lost souls and also tried calling taxis from a list I photographed in the rail station office under the sufferance of a very inhospitable employee. After 3 calls he found Milo, taxi driver extraordinaire, who finally took us home from our big night out. Home sweet home at the Ibis!
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