Day 2: La Chaux-de-Fonds → Nyon

Dawn broke crisp and clear in La Chaux-de-Fonds, and I set out with a gentle chill in the air. Today’s route would take me across the remainder of the Jura Mountains to Nyon on Lake Geneva – effectively leaving the Jura behind and setting the stage for the High Alps to come. I rolled through La Chaux-de-Fonds’ outskirts and descended into a valley, the road cutting through rocky gorges. The morning light slanted through spruce trees as I sped past sleepy villages, and soon I entered the Val-de-Travers, a storied valley known for its absinthe distilleries and green fairy legends. A faint anise scent seemed to linger in the air as I cycled by vineyards and old stone houses, imagining the 19th-century bohemians who prized the “green fairy” liqueur from this region.

From Val-de-Travers, a long uphill awaited – one of the Jura’s larger passes. I climbed towards a ridge called Col de la Givrine, which forms part of the Swiss Jura Route. The ascent was steady, not too steep, allowing me to enjoy the scenery of chalky cliffs and thick forests. Near the top, patches of pasture opened up, and suddenly I was granted a breathtaking view: far below lay the shimmering expanse of Lake Geneva, and beyond it, the snow-capped peaks of the French Alps soared into the sky. This was a pivotal moment. I paused at a lookout point, catching my breath and absorbing the panorama of the cycling the French Alps dream made real – the distant Mont Blanc massif glowing white, and the lake’s surface mirroring the morning sky. The descent into France towards the lake was pure exhilaration: hairpin turns and straight stretches where I whooshed past terraced vineyards and chalet hamlets, the air warming notably as I lost altitude.

By midday I reached the elegant town of Nyon on the lake’s shore. The transition from quiet mountain roads to the bustle of Swiss lakeside life was striking. I weaved through Nyon’s streets lined with cafes and promenades, the waters of Lake Geneva lapping gently against the quay. Here I allowed myself a leisurely lunch – crusty baguette sandwiches and patisserie – basking in the sun with a view of sailboats on the water. This wasn’t just a bike tour, it was a cultural journey too; the French-speaking Swiss town had a relaxed Mediterranean vibe that hinted at what lay ahead. In the afternoon I checked into a small inn. The second day had been long in distance but kinder in climbing, and it ended at the low altitude of about 400 m. I took a sunset stroll along the lake, legs grateful for some flat ground. Tomorrow, the real Alps would begin. I felt a mix of nerves and excitement knowing the high passes were drawing near on my solo bike tour France odyssey.