Day 1: Belfort → La Chaux-de-Fonds

My journey commenced under the shadow of Belfort’s monumental lion, as I left behind the plains of Alsace and ventured into rolling green hills. The first day’s objective was La Chaux-de-Fonds in Switzerland – a fitting start through the lesser-known Jura Mountains before the big Alpine passes. Pedaling out of Belfort, I was immediately embraced by countryside roads that wound through fields and neat villages. In the morning light, wisps of mist clung to the meadows of the Sundgau region, and I felt the thrill of setting off on a solo bike tour that would last many days.

Crossing the French-Swiss border was subtle; one moment I was cruising past a French farmstead, and the next a sign welcomed me to Suisse. The terrain grew hilly as I delved into the Jura. A series of small passes led me deeper into forested valleys, each climb a bit higher than the last. I paced myself, mindful that this was just the first of many challenges cycling across France to the Mediterranean. In the afternoon I followed the silvery ribbon of the Doubs River, a tranquil interlude with cliffs rising on either side. The road then kicked up steeply into the Franches-Montagnes highlands – a remote region of pine forests and pastures dotted with horses. This ascent was my first real test, and I climbed in low gear, heart pounding, until the plateau opened up to reveal the Swiss town of La Chaux-de-Fonds on the horizon.

La Chaux-de-Fonds greeted me with late-afternoon sunshine and the satisfying rattle of cowbells from nearby slopes. This mountain city, sitting at about 1,000 m elevation, is celebrated for its watchmaking heritage and distinctive grid layout – a curious urban geometry amid the mountains. After checking into a quaint hotel, I wandered the orderly streets, marveling at how such a city thrived in this lofty setting. In the golden hour light, ornate clock faces on buildings seemed to pay homage to the town’s precision craft. I savored a hearty Swiss rösti for dinner, reflecting on the day: only one day in, and already I had crossed an international border and tackled untamed Jura climbs. As the sun set over verdant ridges, I felt both fatigue and exhilaration. The first stage of my Belfort to Nice cycling route was complete, and the Alps proper still awaited.