The river Ain has its source
near Champagnole, and flows through a broad beautiful valley southwards,
but the only way to get an idea of the geography of the place is to
climb a mountain, maps avail little.
On alighting at the Hotel Dumont, the sight of an elegant landlady, in
spotless white morning gown, was re-assuring, and when I was conducted
to a bedroom with bells, clean floors, proper washing apparatus, and
other comforts, my heart quite leapt. There is nothing to see at
Champagnole but the saw-mills, the "click, click" of which you hear at
every turn. Saw-making by machinery is the principal industry here, and
is worth inspecting. But if the town itself is uninteresting, it offers
a variety of delicious walks and drives, and must be a very healthy
summer resort, being five hundred yards above the level of the plain. I
went a little way on the road to Les Planches, and nothing could be more
solemnly beautiful than the black pines pricking against the deep blue
sky, and the golden light playing on the ferns and pine-stems below;
before us, a vista of deep gorge and purple mountain chain, on either
side the solemn serried lines of the forest. The good pedestrian should
follow this road to Les Planches, as splendid a walk as any in the Jura.
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