Sometimes, fortunately not too often, there are days that are anything but a blessing. In other words, shitty days.
The shitty day starts early, actually yesterday never really stops. It provides me, despite pleasant surroundings and soft bed, an almost sleepless night, as always difficult to explain. A too large pizza? Too much beer? Allergy?
Anyway, in the morning at half past five I finally fall into a restless stupor, hardly to be called sleep, and shortly after seven I already wake up. Not a good prerequisite for a hiking day.
The opulent breakfast in the apartment's kitchen, however, manages to brighten my tired spirits. The owners of the apartment, a friendly couple in their prime, join me and tell me the secrets of St. Imier.
St Imier
The little town apparently has a long history, and this dates back mainly to a long and successful watchmaking tradition. I quote Wikipedia:
Saint-Imier was mainly agricultural until the end of the 18th century. After that, watchmaking developed in the village, first partly in homework and in small workshops, later also in factories.
In 1866 the Compagnie des Montres Longines Francillon SA was founded. Breitling, Blancpain, Chopard and TAG Heuer are also originally from Saint-Imier.[10] With the watch industry, a rapid economic boom began and the population grew from 2632 inhabitants (1856) to 7557 inhabitants (1888).
Saint-Imier became the center of watchmaking in the Vallon de Saint-Imier and experienced a heyday after 1880, during which numerous large industrial buildings were built. Due to the crisis in watchmaking from 1970, the place has suffered badly. Hundreds of jobs were lost and population decline intensified.
Today the commune specializes in micromechanics and the production of precision equipment. There are also other jobs in the manufacture of watch cases.
The decline is perceptible when walking along the streets. The town appears to be rather quiet, even though the typical French joie de vivre can still be felt here and there. Considering that the town had almost twice as many inhabitants in its best years, it''s not surprising.
Anyway, I say goodbye to my temporary hosts and head towards Dombresson.
In top shape
Surprisingly, despite the lack of sleep, I feel in top shape, the way out of town makes it easy. If things continue like this, I'll be quite happy.
The travel guide whets the appetite for an easy, relatively short stage:
From the watchmaking town to the granary of the Neuchâtel region. The route passes through a gorge typical of the limestone of the Jura chain. Descent into the Val de Ruz through a shady forest. The plain is overlooked by the Chasseral with its large antenna.
Length 15 km; rise | descent 580 m | 560m; Hiking time 4 hours
St. Martin has apparently forgotten to provide reasonable accommodation and so I was forced to look for a hotel in Dombresson. So it will be a matter of finding the right turnoff.
And indeed, the first kilometers run along meadows and forests, I climb gentle hills at a light pace, the sky, sometimes steel blue and cloudless, then again covered with white mesh.
The beauty of the region throws you off balance, you want to sit down and just marvel at the world that still seems strangely intact here, almost untouched by the encroachment of Homo Sapiens.
Gloomy thoughts
The contrast between what delights the eye and the heart and what the head worries for the future of the planet might not be greater.
Here green lush grass, forests with (at first sight) healthy strong trees, pleasant temperatures. And there, perhaps too far away to worry about (that's how humans tick), scorched earth, unbearable heat, starving animals dying of thirst on dead pastures.
And so I cannot suppress the strange gloomy thoughts always arising when the world presents itself in all its splendor. We are all aware of what's awaiting us. The clock is ticking, TICK TICK TICK, our wonderful planet is heading toward a hot, uninhabitable time. Period.
Mankind prefers to remain in a strangely apathetic calm, hoping that our technological developments will prevent Armageddon.
I, as a born optimist, have abandoned all hope of man's potential for change in recent years. Are we too stupid, too weak to change our behavior? We just carry on as we always have and hope that things won't get too bad.
Dark thoughts on such a beautiful day.
But then I'm about to leave the meadows and the Vallon de St. Imier, and dive between the trees.
The sky disappears again and again between the branches, only occasionally the trees pay him a brief greeting. The walk is easy, the wicked thoughts no longer crawl around, disappear temporarily into the subconscious.
I enjoy the sections uphill through the forest, a lonely tree, lovingly framed by dark clouds, shows me the way.
Involuntarily on tar roads
Unfortunately, the pleasure soon comes to an end.
The rest of the stage takes place mostly on tarred roads. Not what I desire, but sometimes the best route planning comes to its limits, because there are simply no other options.
And so I trot along, a bit annoyed, as I always am when what is, does not correspond to what I would like it to be. A wisdom that applies to the entire life.
But anyway, after a few kilometers I catch the right turn-off to Dombresson, it's going downhill, I'm now in the Val de Ruz.
The hotel seems to be closed, so I sit down in the garden restaurant, stretch my legs and feel like I always do when a final destination is reached.
Comfortably tired, content and perfectly balanced.
That's what you're looking for, not just on hikes.
The balance.
Matching song: Soundgarden - Fell on Black Days
And here the trail continues ... to Neuchatel
