Lord Colliers Active Retirement Life

Gy to Besancon

I started the day early with a great cup of coffee and a 6:30 AM send-off from the Pinocchio Hotel in Gy. It’s a fantastic place — wonderful service and a beautiful pool I won’t forget. That hotel will always come to mind when I think of Gy.

The morning began with a killer climb: a mile and a half straight up at around a 30° incline. A tough way to start the day — but in some ways, a perfect welcome. The cool morning air and golden sunlight filtering through the trees made the climb feel almost meditative. I spent a couple of peaceful hours walking through the forest. It reminded me of the Blue Ridge Mountains — that same mix of wooded serenity and ridgeline drama.

As the day unfolded, so did the landscape. Gone were the gentle rolling hills, replaced by steep ascents and rapid descents. By midday, the temperature soared into the high 90s — brutal on both the body and mind.

Thought of the day: as I passed through small rural towns, a quieter story seemed to emerge beneath the surface. You can feel how hard these places are working just to survive — closed schools, aging populations, shuttered buildings. It’s beautiful, but bittersweet. There’s history and charm in abundance, but also a lingering uncertainty about what the future holds.

And yet, there are still moments of connection — like the conversation at the hotel pool yesterday. Encounters like that prove there’s life and spirit here, even in decline.

After three weeks in France, I can say without hesitation: it’s a great country. But living in the countryside long-term would be difficult. The rural towns are shrinking fast, and the infrastructure just isn’t strong enough to support a comfortable life later in age.

Besançon – A Step Change!

Arriving in Besançon felt like stepping into another country. The city has a calm, cinematic presence — wide, walkable streets lined with stone buildings that blend elegance and resilience. The architecture is distinct from other French towns I’ve seen: more structured, more monumental, reflecting Besançon’s military and intellectual roots.

The Citadel of Besançon is the crown jewel. Built by Vauban in the 17th century, it stands high above the city, offering sweeping views of the Doubs River and the valley below. Walking its walls gives you a sense not only of France’s defensive past, but of the artistry that defined it. Today, it houses museums and even a zoo, but it still pulses with history.

Just downhill sits the Museum of Time (Musée du Temps) — one of the most surprising and captivating places I’ve visited. Located in a Renaissance palace, it explores more than just clocks and watches; it delves into how we experience time itself — how we measure it, live by it, and are shaped by it. The antique timepieces are mesmerizing, but the top-floor view of the city through the museum’s clock tower is unforgettable — time literally framing space.

In the evening, I sat in the Place de la Révolution, the town square where locals gather to sip coffee and watch the world go by. I ended up having a drink with a local couple — strangers at first, but generous and curious. We talked for hours about travel, politics, and food. It’s those spontaneous connections that make travel feel real and lasting.

It’s also worth noting that Victor Hugo was born here. Though his family moved when he was young, the town proudly honors his legacy. After walking these thoughtful streets, it’s easy to imagine how this place could shape a writer.

End of the Day

All in all, it was a long day — 25 miles of steep climbs and boiling temperatures. But the evening in Besançon made it all worth it. Tomorrow, I head further into the Jura Mountains. Sounds like fun — and a challenge I’m ready for.