Montbeliard and Avallon

I had planned a day trip out of Dijon to Avallon, with a stop in Montbeliard where I had to change trains. So after breakfast, I caught the train and hopped off at Montbeliard to have a look around. It was fairly dead, but quite pretty. I visited their art gallery – housed in a former church – which contained a collection of bicycles (yeah, bicycles). I then visited the Chateau de Montbeliard which housed a natural history gallery tracing the life and works of Georges Cuvier, a naturalist and zoologist. I passed by the elegant Hotel de Ville where a middle aged woman, thinking I was lost and hungry, directed me to get some lunch at a small patisserie (I had an escargot) then pointed me back in the direction of the train station.

I caught the bus to the almost equally dead Avallon, and walked the pretty streets. I had planned to do a walk in the nearby woods so kind of adlibbed my way there. On the way, I passed some lovely quaint houses with painted shutters and flower boxes. As I ventured away from town, I strolled past farm houses with vegetable plots and vineyards and orchards. I followed a stream and made my way into the lush woods. I actually had an ulterior motive: I’m not sure where I saw it, but I was in search of a bridge – a decaying, wooden pont in the middle of the woods. I had seen its picture somewhere and I wanted to see it in the flesh for myself. So yep, here I was in the middle of some random French woodland looking for an old bridge which I wasn’t even sure still existed or even existed in the first place (don't ask me why). So anyway, I hiked through the forest, shaded from the summer sun by a thick canopy of trees. The whole place was covered in moss – spongy, green masses that clung to rocks, tree trunks and anything else that dared settle down on the forest floor. The stream that ran parallel to the path babbled to itself and birdsong filled the air. Children played in the stream and called out “Bonjour, Monsieur!” as I walked past. Another group of children further on were being carried across the stream from one side to the other by their teachers. It was funny seeing the kids clinging desperately for their lives as the teachers waded across the water with slow, weighted steps.

And then I saw it. Basking in the mottled light and spanning the tranquil waters stood the bridge I had sought after. And it was awesome (see photo). Well, you might not think it was that great, but I dunno, I liked it.

So anyway, I gradually made my way back to the village and had a look around at the church and museum. Then it was time to call it a day and I hopped on the bus back to Montbeliard to catch my train back to Dijon. There was a short wait for the train, so I decided to have un cafe at the hotel opposite the train station. There I met some random old French lady and we chatted a bit. Then it was homeward bound for Dijon.

Some photos - Enjoy!

Montbeliard

Avallon

The Bridge