Along the Rhône

I met the Rhône at Lagnieu. Here it turns and flows towards Lyon after its zigzag northwest following its descent from Lake Geneva. The map shows the cycle path which differs in places but the sense of the river's course is conveyed well. 

Suddenly the Alps seem very close - the ridges and cliffs to the east of the river shout 'high ground'. 

I walk along the river for the best part of two days. There is always something to look at. A chateau in a still stretch in the early morning. 

A power station. 

One way of getting rid of your car.. 

They knew a hot day was coming!

The farmers watering the maize - the great drum of hose very slowly winds in, almost imperceptibly, pulling the spray on its wheels. 

And a Scarce Swallowtail (called a 'Flambé' in French) which we used to have many of in Italy. Zebra-striped wings, an almost triangular shape, and the tails sticking out the back. 'Scarce' as very unlikely to be seen in England. 

Across the plain

To the east of the Saône, northeast of Lyon, is a wide flat plain called La Dombes full of little lakes. The lakes are largely man-made, many dating from the Midde Ages, dug to create a fishing industry. They are also a paradise for birds. 

It would be nice to recount the joys of moving slowly through this area of water and wildlife. But it is difficult to report other than a long, hot slog, with the green lakes surprisingly uninviting. This road sign outside St Marcel en Dombes twisted the knife. Fat chance of ice on the road with afternoon temperatures pushing 40..

Nearby Villars-les-Dombes is a thriving little town. Commuters poured off the late afternoon train from Lyon, 40 minutes away. No shortage of boulangeries here - we counted at least four. And a very nicely restored church, mixing romanesque and gothic. 

Here Riccardo left me to join his family coming from Italy. Alas he missed the better of the two days needed to cross the plain. The second day produced a reasonable amount of shade and more tracks and footpaths than tarmac. 

I passed the beautiful little 13th century Chateau Montellier. 

It's been in the same family since the Revolution and the name on postbox had a certain style, above the usual request for no junk mail. 

More wine and another river

Coming down from the hills in the late afternoon there are vines, vines and more vines. We come smack through the middle of the main Beaujolais area, shown in yellow in the bottom half of this map, reaching the river Saone at Anse.

Here's an early view, emerging from the woods. It all seems achingly beautiful. 

Most grapes are destined for red Beaujolais. But as one grower comments to us - not necessarily approvingly - rosé is much à la mode now.. 

Here is another vigneron pruning the growth off his vines to let the sun get at the fruit, a job I had naively assumed was still done by hand. 

After a long day we reached the nicely named village of Oingt. Restaurants, a pottery shop, an art gallery - in the next door village there is a coach load of American students - but no boulangerie for the locals. The buildings use a beautiful golden coloured stone - pierre dorée. 

Pierre dorée has attracted international attention, which will help the restaurants and galleries. It seems a very long way from the villages of the poor Auvergne a week ago. 

And so to Anse and a first sight across yet more vines of the mighty Saone. The Saone joins the Rhône just south of here at Lyon and in the past was a critical part of the large north-south river trade. 

Up and down in the heat

The temperature has risen sharply and over 40 degrees is forecast. I am joined at Roanne by Riccardo - his comment on an earlier post (May 27) indicates the sort of week I can expect.. We move east across a tangled series of ridges, each at about 700m. Somewhere we cross a major watershed - water now flows to the Mediterranean rather than the Atlantic. Harvest is underway on the lower slopes - this is a view as we start to climb out of the Loire valley. 

Then it is up and down over the ridges. The valleys with little villages like this one.

We are labouring hard in the heat! This bystander had the right idea - keep in the shade.

Riccardo takes a leaf out of her book and goes to sleep immediately.

They are both right! And we start getting going early, lying up in the afternoon, and doing a bit more in the evening. Here's the view from where we sleep out up on one of the ridges we are crossing. 

A beautiful evening and the strange and wonderful sound of Nightjars during the night. The moon is almost full and we both wake in the night thinking there is a searchlight on us. We are up at dawn and away by 5.30.

By mid-morning it's roasting hot again and we've dropped down and then climbed yet another ridge. The reward is a sighting on a forest track of a large, fast-flying butterfly, which I'm not sure I have ever seen before. The elusive Purple Emperor usually stays in the tree tops. I only managed to capture this view but saw its famous purple upper wing in all its glory as it flew away. 

Farewell to the Loire

I first saw the Loire four weeks ago at Blois and have been coming back to it or following it since. Here at Roanne, about 900km from its mouth, the river is still an impressive size. Now it is a final goodbye as I head east towards the Saone-Rhone valley. 

Roanne is where serious navigation of the Loire starts whether by the lateral canal, extended down from Digoin in the 1830s, or, in earlier times, by the river itself. Above Roanne are gorges, now dammed - one of the few interruptions to what claims to be Europe's longest untamed river. And Roanne claims that its port used to be the second largest in France, such was the importance of river and canal for internal trade. Here's the early 19th century stone bridge. 

But the town centre is some way off, presumably due to past risk of flooding - this is not a Blois or a Gien with a chateau and church on high ground dominating the river. Here's the 12th century tower that remains from the old chateau. 

And the other side of the figure in the foreground, a relic perhaps from the unfortunate 19th century makeover of the main church? Or a reproduction?

This is an early 17th century Jesuit chapel, said to be very nice inside but locked on a hot dead Sunday afternoon. 

And a late 18th century building, now the Sub Prefecture, with a cedar of Lebanon planted in 1830 which looked very attractive in the heat. The heat is forecast to rise further next week, which means I will have to try to get up earlier in the morning..

Into mountains

Les Monts de la Madeleine may not provide France's highest peaks. But with a main ridge of just over 1000m this tip of the Massif Central earns its name. It took two sweaty but very satisfying days to get through them. Glorious views to the west and southwest opened out as I climbed - Puy de Dôme is just visible in the distance above the fence post in this photo. 

Little mountain villages led upwards. This one, Châtelus, still had a tiny bar. I duly paid for my coffee!

And then into the beech and conifer woods that cloak most of the slopes, and up through them on a mix of minor roads, forest tracks and steep stony paths. A dip in a torrent in the late afternoon cooled me off. This picture is from near the top - the foxgloves spring up in any patch of cleared forest. 

The top produced huge views to the east down the other side, of Roanne, which is on the Loire, and of the next range of hills to be crossed beyond. In winter one can apparently see Mt Blanc on a good day.

Down to the first village and it is clear that living standards are higher this side of the mountains. Sunny slopes with vines and the proximity of Roanne, a town of 40,000 - here again in the middle distance of the photo. 

The high ground has produced new butterflies. I'm alleging that the first one below may be a Mountain Ringlet. The tiny second one, feeding on bramble that is everywhere in flower, must be some sort of Skipper. 

Rich and poor

Yesterday's headline in the local paper had a depressing message about rural poverty in this part of France, the northern edge of the Auvergne. 

The evidence for the passing traveller is the large number of houses for sale, the dilapidated or boarded-up properties, and, at a village level, the closed-down shops - although the car and large supermarkets are also responsible for the last of these.

In each village, conversation quickly reveals that the bar closed down last year, or the baker is about to retire, or the school has only eight pupils this year.. The village 'lavoir', the wash house, provides a reminder of what were living standards in comparatively recent times. The tin roof and cement sides of this one at St Leon suggests use well within living memory. 

Alongside the rural poverty are some fine little chateaux - these two are within an half an hour's walk of the St Leon lavoir.

But at least the scenery can be enjoyed by all! And it gets better by the day as I start to climb. This photo shows the view north-east from a lunch spot to the high hills of Morvan. Two minutes further on I could see the far away 1500m peak of Puy de Dôme to the south-west, just outside Clermont-Ferrand - about 100 miles separates the two. 

And, as ever, little churches, including this one at Barrais-Bussolles - the photo struggles to capture adequately the simple beauty of the roses around the Romanesque doorway.