With only the Dutch biker on site in his tent we left the blinds half open last night, and this morning when we wake the leaves in the trees around us are glowing Autumnal in the morning sunshine.
Over breakfast we re-check our route, as when we looked last night we thought we’d made a mistake. We set off at 10:10 with a long drive ahead.
The first part of the journey is through thick forest which eventually gives way to lots of fields of white Charolais cattle.
After a few miles with sights of a canal we reach Decize, a large town built along either side of the canal, with wide roads, prosperous looking buildings and large parks.
Later we stopped for lunch near Charolles then went into the town for a bit of shopping and to use the aire to dump water as there was no sign of a service point at the campsite.
We have the next 50-60 miles on a variety of roads; dual carriageways, narrow two-lane and standard A [or D in France] roads, but all of them are arrow straight.
Approaching Macon the villages appear to date from feudal times with large manors and surrounding farms. We also see the landscape turn to vines again, but less dense than at Sancere. No matter, we like Macon just as much.
Cue pathetic joke;
Diner: Do you have a white Macon?
Waiter: No, it’s just a jacket I have to wear.
A water tower with a large painting of a chicken on it signals our approach to Bourg-en-Bresse, twinned with Aylesbury [and its ducks] and famous for incredibly expensive and reputedly delicious chickens. The city is very busy, multiple lanes of traffic and a set of traffic lights for every feather plucked this year.
We text friends at home to tell them we’re passing through Saint Just and they reply we’ll be in St Mawes soon.
But instead of Falmouth harbour and castles, our view is of mountains ahead and we are soon into them. The last 12-15 miles are long, steep climbs and descents with a few sharp bends for good measure. The views are wonderful, spreading across rich valley floors and climbing to pine forested limestone.
We descend to the valley floor and drive alongside the lake which takes us into Nantua, which has an aire right on the lakeside. At 17:30 we find an empty slot and park facing the lake then Ali unloads the buggy and we set off into town.
Our walk begins along the lake past an unusual memorial for fallen soldiers from the Ain region. It comprises a human form lying under a large block of stone held up by smaller blocks at each corner.
The lake itself is emerald green and deep blue with white crested waves racing to its shoreline. Moorhens jostle for position on boulders and treesumps or disappear in a splash and resurface with a small fish. The whole scene is framed by a towering rock escarpment glowing in the sunshine, ivory coloured with pale green pine trees clinging to the side.
Nantua town has a strange atmosphere. Obviously tourism is important but many buildings appear run down with flaking shutters and broken plaster. Others, old and important like the court and town hall are scrupulously maintained. But all around there are enormous plant pots filled with colour. We find a bar and stop for a beer before heading back to the aire. As the sun is going down a fierce and cold wind whips across the lake. For half an hour the van shakes and rocks then all is calm.
Late supper and then to bed.