A long-distance hike of more than 500 kilometers does not always start with the best conditions.

The day has started early, almost night when getting up, autumn is approaching. The drive via Basel to Pruntrut takes place quite relaxed, but at the same time tired and stressed. The view through the window shows not what I would like to see - blue sky, laughing sun, but not the clouds, hanging low, somehow sad.

But - and that's all that matters - no rain. Many thanks to the weather forecasters, once again they picked the wrong box.

Different to last year But I feel safe, sure that I can manage the whole hike. There is, of course, a grain of doubt. So much can happen. A wrong careless step, a cold, stomach problems. And a lot of things that I don't even want to paint in my imagination.

We will see. That remains my daily Mantra on this trail as well.

Pruntrut and the new signpost

A year ago, on a journey through the Jura, I stood at this very spot, at the train station in Prunrut (French Porrentruy), below the signpost with the number 2 and the promising indication "Trans Swiss Trail".

I suspect that at that moment the idea of another long-distance hike (after the Alpine Panorama Trail) was born, a little hook that has nested somewhere in the subconscious. Well, anyway, here I am, the signpost points in the direction to take, it's all there, all ready for another adventure on the ups and downs of Switzerland.

The stage is not to be underestimated. It's pretty much up and down over 17 kilometers and an estimated 5 hours, which in my experience means over 6 hours at my speed.

But everything is fine, I treat myself to a coffee in the garden restaurant before starting and mentally prepare myself for the next 500 kilometers.

It looks good

But then the first steps of again an estimated 800 to 000. That's quite a lot for my little feet, my calves, my toes, which after the last hike looked as if they wanted to prohibit any further fun in hiking forever.

Of course it is Travelguide, my constant companion, either in book form or digitally on the corresponding schweizmobil platform.

It enlightens me about the expected part of the hike:

After the interesting old town of Porrentruy over fields to the wooded Jura ridge. Then descent into the deep fold that the Doubs has carved in the karst rock. St-Ursanne is a gem. The cloister of the monastery breathes another time.

From Porrentruy to St Ursanne

A somewhat misguided start

In the meantime, I should know that my orientation talents have not improved significantly. So it comes as it must come.

I set off cheerfully, following the signs with the green number 2, absolutely convinced that at least here in Pruntrut, on the first kilometers, not too much bad can happen. The small town delights me with its friendly charisma, its stone-lined streets along old houses and villas.

Pruntrut roads

Pruntruy - or Porrentruy in French

Somewhere in the south of the city I stand in front of one of my signposts and am a little confused that it points in the opposite direction to the one I have in mind.

Well, the people in charge will probably know what they are doing. Although, after some time the affair does seem a bit suspect to me, so I check the digital map and am even more confused. At the latest, when I stand at the same place as a quarter of an hour ago, it dawns on me that I have been walking in circles. Two nice elderly gentlemen, engrossed in loud discussion, are perfect to explore first the right direction, and secondly to apply my hopefully improved French.

The two are looking at me a bit displeased, understanding my question, but have no idea where there might be a Trans Swiss Trail here. In addition, both have forgotten their glasses at home and are thus unable to examine the map on my phone.

Finally open country

I am still not sure why at the said place the signpost points in the wrong direction, but what the heck, eventually I find the right turn and leave the town without much emotion.

Leaving Prunrut

I'm greeted by a gray sky that seems anything but happy about my presence, lush green meadows with a few cows, in the background a range of hills and further back the Jura in all its glory. It will be with me for the next few days, it will please me or annoy me, take my breath away or convey great feelings.

And now, eagerly awaited, that feeling sets in that I know from last year. A feeling of boundless freedom, of that carefree spirit that you only get when hiking. The blood seems to pulse faster through the veins, the heart beats in tune with my hiking poles and even my legs and feet and toes seem to be looking forward to the coming adventure that has just begun.

I must add that I have learned the lessons from last year's hike. The backpack is now only half as heavy (a new development originating in the US and apparently intended primarily for trail runners, so for me too, of course). I have creams for my feet and calves and a small fascia roller, and most importantly, I will heed the rule number two of long-distance hiking, namely to go sloooow.

The first stop also serves to determine whether I now actually no longer have to take off the backpack to drink water, but can reach directly to the bottle, which is now attached to the straps.

It works excellently, I continue over a wide plain, then into the forest, the first slope and ...? Damn, where are my sticks?

So I have indeed forgotten my two sticks, which have almost become an additional body part, on the first few kilometers. I now avoid pointing out more closely the curse words that now loudly boom through the empty forest. So a good two kilometers back in the hope that the sticks are still in the same place.

They are there, I breathe a sigh of relief, I vow to use the head in the future.

Gray sky, green jungle

The sky, still looking suspiciously of rain, remains gray and ill-tempered, but at least he seems to be gracious to me. After crossing the wide plain south of Pruntrut, I am greeted by a dense forest that I will hardly leave for the next few hours.

The air is heavy with the smell of wet trees, the humidity (a welcome change after the dry summer) hangs like a heavy cloth over the forest.

The stage is as imagined - not particularly spectacular, just right to start the hike. According to the guide:

A little more than an hour on the way, the path plunges into the forest. At Les Chainions it crosses the border to the nature park Doubs, . The river of the same name forms the natural border with France over long stretches. It flows through a magnificent, partly canyon-like gorge with steep rock faces and forests. Sometimes wild and sometimes gentle, the Doubs meanders through the fascinating natural and cultural landscapes of the valley. More than three hours have already passed in Seleute. Grazing horses and cows – this is a common sight in the canton of Jura.

Dense forest with wet path Then again steep way beneath trees

Sometimes the sky reminds me who is the master in the house and drops a few threatening drops on my sweaty face, but it immediately brings out a better mood and keeps quiet. I have mentally prepared for rain, so nothing can really surprise me, but of course, if it stays dry, I'm also happy.

A nondescript village called Seleute

Actually, I'm making good progress, even if my feet start to burn (all beginnings are hard) and on steep inclines my pulse rises higher than I like. But that will change, I am convinced that it will settle already in the next few days at a level that might belong to a thirty year old.

So I'm quite happy when after a few hours the first small village shows itself, Seleute, never heard of, which is understandable given its location in the middle of nowhere.

My body is looking for a boost, a coffee might be the highest of feelings.

And indeed, in front of an inconspicuous house there are a few wooden tables, the light is on, hope rises, and I sit down expectantly. After half a minute, a friendly young man shows up, I order coffee and after the first sip I'm already in a state that is called a high in the drug scene. Without any heroin at all.

The young man inquires about where from and where to, and for the first time I proudly tell him about my planned long-distance hike to Mendrisio in the Ticino.

„Mendrisio? Dans … dans le Ticino?“

„Oui.“

„Ah, ça c’est fou. C’est tres loin.“

The rest of the way to the day's destination is frankly more than laborious, even if the admiration of the young man still makes the step easy for a while. The path now descends into the valley of the Doubs, many stones and rocks on the trail, anything but pleasant for the first day.

The first destination of the day - St. Ursanne

But then I arrive in St Ursanne, it's almost five o'clock, my watch shows almost 20 kilometers and more than 6 hours of hiking time. Not bad for the first day.

The Hotel de la Couronne is closed on this day, a phone call clarifies where the key can be found. After a shower and changing of clothes, I walk through the old town, which has a lot to offer.

The historic town, with barely 700 inhabitants, extends in the narrow valley of the Doubs, on the right bank of the river, between the Lomont or Mont Terri Jurassic ranges to the north and the Clos du Doubs in the south. After Delémont and Porrentruy, it is the third historical town in the canton of Jura. It has a medieval townscape, which is characterized by town houses from the 14th to 16th centuries.

The collegiate church, a Romanesque pier basilica with a crypt under the choir, dates from the 12th to the 14th century. From the abbey of the 11th century capitals and parts of the north portal were included in the construction. The south portal (around 1200) in the Burgundian Romanesque style is one of the most important portals of this style in Switzerland. The nave, which was built somewhat later, already shows Gothic features, and the interior decoration essentially dates from the 18th century. The earthquake of 1356 damaged the church tower of the monastery so severely that it later collapsed. It was not until 1462 to 1464 that the damage was repaired. (Wikipedia)

St Ursanne - the first destination

Church in St Ursanne

Famous entrance

My legs feel a bit heavy, so I limit my cultural curiosity to a short walk through the streets, admire the Collegiate Church, and sit down at a sidewalk café in the hope of getting something to eat. The meal is modest, but it satisfies my hunger as the cold slowly creeps up my bare legs, reminding me that the evening is chilly, the air is damp, and it's time to crawl into the warm hotel room.

 

Matching Song:   The Cure-A Forest

And here it goes on ... to Soubey, along the Doubs

 

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