Les Ervuines (No 30)

Les Ervuines is one of those peaks that hundreds of people must walk past every year, yet most of them would know nothing about it, or have ever even heard of its name. If you search for information about Les Ervuines, you won't find much, and you'll even see it referred to as "Les Erouines" (with an "o" instead of a "v") ... which is because the "v" looks a bit like an "o" on the topographic map (Carte Nationale de la Suisse, 1:25,000, 1202, Orbe). Even so, it does appear on registers of named Swiss peaks and, being on my list of Jura peaks at "Number 30", was ready to be ticked-off this fine Sunday morning (15 December, 2013).

At least it was "fine" in St George when we left home, and it was "fine" in Baulmes when we arrived there to start our walk. But it was far from "fine" all the way between these two end-points - as the entire Swiss Plateau below about 500 metres was enveloped in a typical winter "Mer de Nuage" (Sea of Clouds) that smothered any sign of there being a fine day in the mountains above. So it was fabulous to emerge again from that fog - as we drove up towards Baulmes, and to see Les Rebans and Mont de Baulmes shining in the morning sun above the town.

As per our last visit to the town, we parked just near the old church (678m.a.s.l.) and, at about 10.30am, started heading up the hill out of town. (We were last here in July, when we climbed Aiguilles de Baulmes, Les Rebans and Mont de Baulmes. You can read about that trip here.) Just after we'd crossed over the the Baumine River - that runs through the town - we turned left onto a small side street called the Rue de la Montagne and headed north out of town.

The turn-off at Rue de la Montagne.

After passing just a few houses along the road we got onto a pleasant, leaf-littered forest trail that meandered uphill, alongside the Baumine. It was immediately a soothing feeling to be walking in the forest with a bubbling brook singing-out alongside us as we walked. Just 15 minutes up the trail, we intersected an icy road, with an equally icy bridge, that marked our first real way-point of the day. Last time we were here, we headed straight-on, up the hill towards Mont de Baulmes. But this time we turned left, across the bridge, heading west-southwest in the direction marked "Le Suchet: 2h 30 min: Sentier de la Crête".

The trail sign pointing towards Le Suchet.

Crossing the bridge just northwest of Baulmes. The "Sentier de la Crête" can be seen heading up the slope in the snow in the centre of the photograph.

After gingerly slip-sliding and skating our way across the bridge (we'd decided to take a punt on leaving our snow-shoes behind today, and to do all of today's hike in just our walking boots), we equally gingerly negotiated the first icy steps of the slope - that would eventually lead us all the way to Les Ervuines, and Le Suchet further beyond.

Heading-up the icy "Sentier de la Crêtes" trail towards Le Suchet.

No fresh snow has fallen on the Jura for the past two weeks, and having had an intervening period of sunshine and rain, much of the lovely blanket that we'd walked on to the Haut du Mollendruz was now gone. However there were still patches of snow - either on the highest peaks, or in sheltered and shaded aspects, and in some places this had partially melted before being refrozen as long swaths of ice. Not surprisingly, we nearly took a few tumbles as we negotiated the first, steep rise on the northern side of the ridge that we were ascending, but were soon onto the ridgeline where the sun had pretty much burnt away all of the ice and snow. This ridge defined this walk ... as we were pretty much on it for the entire rest of the ascent - from Baulmes to Les Ervuines.

Heading up the ridgeline.

All along the ridgeline we passed a series of substantial milestones, and I couldn't help but think we were missing something significant about this ridge. Did it mark a boundary of some description? It didn't look like it from the map, so it left me wondering. We also passed a point on the map marked "Fortification Prehistorique de l'Ermitage" - which apparently marks a site which dates back to the prehistoric cave-dwellers and early hunters and gathers who settled in the hills around here about 12,000 years ago.

One of the impressive trail-markers near the "Fortification Prehistorique de l'Ermitage".

All of this first part of the walk was through dense mixed deciduous and coniferous forest, which made for very pleasant conditions: Lots of shade, lots of leaf-litter underfoot and gorgeous surroundings filled with moss, lichens and vegetation in every stage of growing, dying and decaying. It really was a beautiful way to spend a Sunday morning. In some places millions of fir leaves (tiny thin "needles", about a centimetre or two in length) covered the patches of snow like "hundreds and thousands" candy. About a kilometre into our walk we reached the crest of an un-named hill - at 1079m - from which we then headed downslope

Passing the 1079 highpoint between Baulmes and Les Mouilles.

We quickly dropped down to about 1050 metres - where we encountered a snow-smothered roadway that cut over the mountain ridge just east of the "Les Mouilles" farmhouse. Both the road and the farmhouse were closed for winter. We crossed over the road, and headed on up the ridgeline - further along le Sentier de la Crête.

Trail sign near Les Mouilles - 1050m.

This marked the beginning of an amazing uninterrupted climb up the mountain. Not once did it dip back down, but instead continued on ... up, up and up, at a gradient of about one-in-five. Sometimes it felt like we were on a rough-cut staircase. Sometimes we really were, as we climbed about 1,000 metres in vertical altitude in about a four-and-a-half or five kilometres of horizontal distance. The ridgeline became even more pronounced - more like an arête - with steep slopes dropping away on either side of us. At times the top of the ridge was less than a metre wide, so we took particular care with where we placed our feet in those places. The steep slopes to our left (the southern flank) are called La Côte (the hillside), while on our right (the north "face") were the slopes and cliffs of Les Ervuines. It truly was an amazing trail, and we were loving being on it.

Heading-up the Les Ervuines ridgeline.

In other places, the route became a tangle of fallen trees, decaying logs and "untidy" undergrowth. It sure made for an interesting hike.

Winding our way through some of the wilder stretches of the trail.

The higher we climbed, the more the forest canopy thinned-out, which occasionally afforded us glimpses of the landscape beyond the surrounds of our immediate forest. Most imposing - to our north - were the cliffs and rocky crags of Aiguilles de Baulmes. Below their cliffs we could see the Les Prax, Les Crébillons and Les Nax farmhouses, now all abandoned for winter of course.

The striking cliffs and crags of Aiguilles de Baulmes.

At about 1430 metres (in altitude), we broke out of the forest and for the first time got a clear view of the Alps far to the south, and the intervening "Mer de Nuage" that blanketed the Swiss Platueau. It truly was a glorious sight on such a sunny day, and it felt so good to up here above the clouds. Now out of the shade of the forest, we were in glorious sunshine ourselves - for the first time really, so we stopped briefly for an energy bar and sip of lemon water, and to take a few photographs of the scenery around us, including of some of the gnarly old mountain trees - some of which were still standing, while others were fallen, lying like sun-bleached skeletons across or near our trail.

 

A fallen tree lies half-buried in the snow, with the Mer de Nuage and the Alps in the background.

Intriguing shapes and shadows from these two trees that obviously lived (and died) very close to each other.

A typical, weather-beaten Jura Mountain tree.

Approaching 1500 metres, the ridgeline became more pronounced again, and conveniently (in case one ever got stuck up here in a winter white-out or blackened stormy night) was marked by a line of somewhat rickety fence posts. Once again we stopped to take in the views, and to take a few photos of the world around us. It truly was spectacular.

Looking back - northeast along the ridgeline - towards the northern Jura, with Le Chasseron on the upper left horizon over Mont de Baulmes.

Looking south over the Mer de Nuage towards the panoramic arc of the Alps.

A closer look at the Alps (with the Dents du Midi on the right - wearing a halo of clouds), and the Mer de Nuage below.

Approaching the highest point of Les Ervuines.

At about 1pm, two-and-a-half-hours after we'd left Baulmes, we reached the highest point of Les Ervuines - 1538 metres. It was marked by a crumbly-looking cairn, which looked hastily built with not a lot of attention to aesthetics, and a steel pole alongside a rock on which someone had scrawled "1540" in red paint. (It's actually registered as 1538m on all of the lists that I've come across, so that's what it's going down as). Not surprisingly (because it's not on everyone's list of burning places to visit, and also being so close to the higher, and more distinguishable, adjacent Le Suchet summit), we had the peak all to ourselves. We found a great vantage point to sit back and gaze at the Alps while we ate our lunch.

The name "Ervuines" is thought to be derived from an ancient word rouvenes and old French word ruvines - which means "sloping ravine" or "scree". It also means "ruins". In base Latin, it is derived from ruina - which means ruins, but also (appropriately - given where we were standing on the clifftops) "fall, collapse, disaster". We'd be having none of that thank you!

After lunch, and a lazy half-hour of Alp-gazing, we took a last look around the peak before heading on our way. Being "nullarbor", it was possible to get magnificent, uninterrupted 360 degree panoramas. We snapped-off the usual "we were here" type photographs.

Standing alongside the unremarkable cairn atop Les Ervuines.

Looking northeast back along the Les Ervuines ridgeline and, in the distance, the rest of the main Jura ridge stretching-out towards the horizon.

Checking-out the Aiguilles de Baulmes from the crest of Les Ervuines.

A closer look at the cliffs of Aiguilles de Baulmes.

At about 1.30pm, we grabbed our backpacks, and headed on up the mountain. We were already three hours on the trail and were heading "out", rather than "back", so had decided to get a move on. From Les Ervuines we could see the steel geodesic pyramid atop Le Suchet, so hastened in that direction. Well "hastened" may be too strong a word, because we stopped quite a few times to gaze at the view around us, and to take a few more photos, of course.

A turnstile on the "Sentier de la Crêtes" trail near Le Suchet.

Lis standing on a cliff-top between Les Ervuines and Le Suchet (top left).

Looking north towards the Grange Neuve chalet (with the orange roof) and the Aiguilles de Baulmes.

Standing on the rocky ridgeline just northeast of Le Suchet.

Near Le Suchet, with the French towns of Entre les Fourgs and Jougne in the background, under Mont Ramey (1087m).

Obviously, it didn't take us too long to cover the last 650 metres  between the two peaks, and we were soon standing under the distinctive steel pyramid at Le Suchet (1588m). As I mentioned earlier, we'd been here almost exactly a year ago (on 25 December 2012), so we didn't stay too long this time - just long enough to snap-off a "selfie" to record the moment, and a few pics of the surrounding vistas, before heading on our way.

The Jura ramblers at Le Suchet.

Looking south from Le Suchet towards the arc of the Alps on the horizon.

We toyed with the idea of doing an out-and-back route that would mean retracing our steps, but the thought of heading down the steep icy ridge we'd encountered at the start of the day - in the last hours of the day, while tired - didn't sound like an appealing option. Fortunately we had two other options in front of us. One option was to drop down the south face of Le Suchet to the bottom of the mountain and then to pick-up a road or track heading north that would take us back to Baulmes. This would at least give us views of the Alps as we descended, and keep us on the sunny side of the ridgeline. The other option was to drop down on the north face of the mountain, and into the sheltered high-valley snowfields and to make our way back to Baulmes on roughly the same route we'd used when returning from Aiguilles de Baulmes in July. We "ummed" and "ahhed" about it for awhile, then chose the second option, and headed over the ridgeline and down into the steep forested slopes towards Grange Neuve.

As usual, the trail was well marked, so easy to follow. Fortunately, it was also nicely "stomped" down by a party of snow-shoers - who were walking some distance ahead of us.

A section of the trail through the forest just below Le Suchet.

Eventually we broke out of the forest and back out into the glorious sunshine. Below us, to our left, we could see the Noirvaux farmhouse, while up ahead of us Grange Neuve served as a distinctive landmark. We passed the snow-shoers, which meant from time to time we found ourselves in unbroken snow, but never more than about 20 or 30 centimetres deep, so not too hard going. Just good fun.

The Noirvaux farmhouse.

Heading towards Grange Neuve  and the Aiguilles de Baulmes.

Now down on relatively flat land, we followed a traverse that slowly cut across the contours and down to the farmhouse - at 1356 metres. Once again, we didn't hang around long. Grange Neuve is a popular buvette during spring, summer and autumn, but it was now closed for winter, so we just took a few photos, and continued northeast down the valley.

The Grange Neuve farmhouse, with an old WW2 machine-gun post on the hilltop.

Trail signpost at Grange Neuve.

The trail from here followed a snow-covered road along a gentle, valley-floor route which had Aiguilles de Baulmes on one side (to our left) and the cliffs of Les Ervuines to our right. With our shadows ever lengthening, and the afternoon light ever-warming, it was a magic way to finish-off the hike.

 

A last look at The cliffs of the Aiguilles de Baulmes.

Following our shadows away from the setting sun.

Our next way-point was a trail intersection near the Les Prax farmhouse, about a kilometre east of the Col de l'Aiguillon and the French border. We continued in an easterly direction, further down the valley - with Mont de Baulmes on the horizon ahead of us.

Trail sign near the La Prax farmhouse.

We passed by Les Crébillons and Les Nax farmhouses (also abandoned for winter), then plunged back into the forest, saying "goodbye" to the last rays of sunshine that we'd feel on our backs, as we did so. Occasionally we got glimpses of the sun shining on the cliffs of Les Rebans  and Mont de Baulmes high up to our left, but mostly it was shady and cold ... and increasingly gloomy. It wasn't all gloomy though, as we chanced upon three lovely-looking roe deer, that were content to just stand their ground in the forest and watch us ... watching them. Nice.

The cliffs of Les Rebans.

At about 1090 metres, we left the snow and ice-covered road that we'd been following since Les Prax, and turned right (south) onto a "rough-and-ready" hiking trail that took us more-or-less directly down through the forest - southeast towards Baulmes. At different times, it was either snowy, muddy, slushy, rocky or leafy underfoot, so we trod carefully as we slipped and slid our way down the last kilometre of the mountainside. Eventually we heard the bubbling sounds of the Baumine River again, and knew we were close to finishing our walk.

Back alongside the Baumine River just above Baulmes.

At about 4.30pm we arrived back in Baulmes - six hours after we'd departed from there earlier in the day. By now the sun had disappeared below the horizon, and a warm-coloured glow was lighting-up the clouds in the skies above. Unfortunately it wasn't too warm standing alongside the Baulmes church (it was about zero degrees), so we quickly dropped our packs in the car, and headed home to St George.

It had been a great day in the Jura, and another winning walk to add to our growing list of Jura Mountain rambles.

The last rays of light over the old church in Baulmes.

Jura peaks bagged:

• Les Ervuines (No 30) 1538m
• Le Suchet (No 19) 1588 (previously climbed on 25 December 2012. See report here.)

Le Suchet (No. 19)

Le Suchet may be number 19 on the list of the Jura's highest named peaks, but it provided one of the year's most amazing hikes, and views of the Alps. It also marked our 40th Jura peak for 2012.

There are a number of places from where one can commence a hike to the top of Le Suchet - Ste-Croix, Ballaigues and Baulmes among them, but we chose the popular set-off point of Entre le Fourgs (1074m) - which is in France (but right on the border), and about five kilometres west-southwest of Le Suchet (as the crow flies).

The tiny village of Entre les Fourgs - 1074m.

We arrived there at about 10am on Christmas eve - for our last Jura summit for 2012 - and parked the car in the car park just beyond the old church in the middle of the town. Although a tiny place, Entre les Fourgs can get quite busy in winter, thanks to a ski lift and ski run right above the town. We tromped across the snow to a yurt - yes, a yurt (not something you expect to see every day in Switzerland), where we sat down and strapped-on our snow shoes.

Lis outside the yurt near Entre les Fourgs.

We were soon on our way, heading southeast straight up the hillside called "Côte Marguiron", just on the eastern flank of the smaller of the town's two téléskis. On our left was the valley of la Jougnena Rau, which provided a great view of Les Aiguilles de Baulmes - number 24 on my list, and yet to be climbed.

Les Aiguilles des Baulmes - 1559m.

We wound our way into the forest, away from "the bustling crowd" and began enjoying the tranquillity that comes from snow-shoeing across beautiful fluffy snow high in the mountains. We passed a small cabin, where we stopped for an obligatory "trail marker" photograph, then headed further-on, up the hillside, rapidly gaining altitude with each step up the steep slope.

Lis at the little log cabin on the trail just above Entre les Fourgs.

The next landmark on the trail was the la Piagrette Chalet farmhouse - now completely snowed-in, shuttered-up and abandoned for winter.

la Piagrette Chalet.

From there we headed due south for a couple of hundred metres - where we encountered an old stone wall that also happens to mark the France-Switzerland border. There are a number of stone markers along the border, and we crossed back into Switzerland just to the west of one of them.

This one had "42" chiselled on one side, and "1824" on the other.

Further down the fence-line is a gateway (which we encountered on our way back later in the day) which has an official border-crossing notice reminding us to have our passport on hand and to declare all goods to the customs officials. We didn't anticipate encountering too many customs and immigration officials in the snow, on a remote mountain trail in winter, on Christmas eve. We had the entire mountainside just about all to ourselves.

The border customs and immigration sign near La Piagrette Chalet.

We turned due east after passing over the border, now finding ourselves on the main Chemin des Crêtes du Jura mountain trail, and headed up the slope to a small cabin called Petit Bel Coster (1277m). Just near the cottage we crested the top of the ridgeline, which gave us our first views over the main Jura ridge towards the Alps. Despite a bit of haze, Mont Blanc was clearly visible, as indeed were all of the Alps across Lac Léman - all the way along to the Dents du Midi.

Mont Blanc on the horizon above Lac Léman.

The views towards the Alps continued to open-up as we continued on our way, and gained height, up the ridgeline northwest of Petit Bel Coster. Looking back, we also had great views along the peaks of the southern Jura - of Mont d'Or, Dent du Vaulion, Mont Tendre and even La Dole in the far distance. It was classic Jura landscape and scenery.

Looking back towards Mont d'Or - which we'd climbed in October.

We were constantly stopping to take-in the magnificent views. We'd been blessed with a gorgeous day, perfect for snow-shoeing in the mountains. So far we'd had a mix of sunshine and cloud, comfortable temperatures, and no wind. Just about perfect. The snow conditions were much the same. Ideal.

Lis taking-in the beautiful views from the ridgeline near Bel Coster.

We soon reached a place called Grand Bel Coster (1392m) - a summer cattle barn - which was now abandoned, and unreachable, with a huge bank of snow blocking the entrance to its open barn doors. Once again, we stopped just long enough to take a landmark photograph (of the barn), and some more of Mont Blanc and the Alps, then headed on our way. For the first time, up ahead, we could see our final destination - the summit of Le Suchet. We still had a couple of kilometres of snow-shoeing ahead of us, and about 200 metres to ascend.

Heading east of Grand Bel Coster with the twin peaks of Le Suchet in the background.

The trail zig-zagged downhill (groan ... 'cos it meant that we'd have to gain all of that altitude again, which is never much fun), towards a place called La Poyette. Before we got there, we encountered a section of the Toblerone Line (I wrote about it in the blog from Dent de Vaulion - No 49; and see "Trivia" below).

A section of the Toblerone anti-tank line near La Poyette.

We stopped to take photos and to check-out the topographic map, which I promptly mis-read (thinking that the road sign "La Poyette" that we were standing alongside was the actual place - which was in fact about half a kilometre to our northwest, hidden behind a small hill). So we left the trail and plunged into the forest, making our own trail across fallen logs, snowdrifts, smothered rock walls and the like to the hilltop ... from where we caught sight of the real La Poyette.

La Poyette Chalet, more of the Toblerone Line, and (in the background) Le Suchet.

We skidded our way down the slope to the homestead (also abandoned now for the winter), where we wandered around, took some more photos, and steeled ourselves for the last "schlep" up the hillside to the mountaintop.

The trail sign at La Poyette - 1331m.

One of the more amusing sights at La Poyette was the family car, which for some reason had been left parked behind the house before the onset of winter, and accompanying snowfalls.

He ain't going nowhere.

Lis alongside the Toblerone Line at La Poyette.

From La Poyette it was all straight uphill to the top. The trail cut through a patch of forest just above the chalet, following first the Toblerone line of concrete blocks, then railway-line spikes driven into the ground, followed by a stone wall and wire fence-line. It would have been hard to get lost now. Once out of the forest, with the sun breaking through again, the views became better than ever. We stopped every hundred metres or so, to catch our breath, and to take-in the magnificent views of the Alps and lakes to the east.

Lis approaching the summit of Le Suchet.

Le Suchet - which means "rocky point" or a rounded hill-top - has two summits, one (at 1554 metres) marked with a cross, and another (at 1588 metres) with a prominent geodetic survey trig station. There was very little snow at the top, or vegetation (it's treeless), which is not surprising really - given the winds that scream over the Jura at this altitude. Most of the Jura's highest summits are bare and wind-blasted. Le Suchet is no exception, covered in little more than stunted sub-alpine vegetation. The wind must have been blowing at about 50 kilometres per hour at least. I read one hiker's account where he thought the wind had been about 100kph. Needless to say, he said he didn't stay long at the top. (Not surprisingly, the ridgeline here is very popular with paragliders in the balmier, calmer, summer months.)

 At the southwest (lower) summit of Le Suchet.

We stopped just long enough for a couple of commemorative pics, and then hastily dragged on our Mammut wind-stopper jackets, beanies and heavier-duty gloves. Then we dashed down into the hollow between the summits to try to find a sheltered place to have lunch. It was now about 1.45pm, three and a half hours after we'd set-out from Entre les Fourgs. We hunkered down behind a rocky outcrop on the western side of the summit, with views out over the Jura ridges that gradually diminished into the distance into France.

 The rocky outcrop (at left) where we hunkered down for lunch. The summit of Le Suchet in the background.

 Another view of Le Suchet summit and our lunchtime picnic spot.

Lis remarked on the irony of us having one of the best views in the world just on the other side of the outcrop - where we would have been blasted into hypothermia if we'd been stupid enough to sit there. Hypothermia isn't fun, so we crushed together and ate our cheese sandwiches, and drank our two big thermoses of hot tea. Heavenly, but freezing. So we ate our lunch in record time, and then headed towards the summit. We knew we were heading in the right direction when we came across this trail sign ... mostly buried.

The famous Jura Crest Trail is down there somewhere.

First we had to go downhill again - into a saddle at about 1505 metres - between the two peaks. Amazingly there was almost no wind there. Well "almost" in a relative sense. It was still very strong. We stopped while I took a few photos, and shot a short video, to capture the beauty of the view towards the Alps in the distant east.

The magical arc of the Alps - from north to south.

From the col, it was a short slog up-hill to the second, higher summit. Recharged from her thermos of hot tea, and conscious of the passing time (we had to get back to the car by dark, on one of the shortest days of the year), Lis led the way. The snow was now increasingly icy, and slippery, making the last few metres particularly hazardous. The slopes on the northwest and southwest side drop steeply, vertically in some places, about 800 metres down onto the plain. Needless to say, we trod carefully.

 Lis on the last section of the trail to the summit of Le Suchet.

We were soon standing at the scoured summit, once again being blasted by the terrific winds. I pulled my well-travelled Swiss flag from out of my back-pack, and Lis snapped off a few celebratory photos ... then bolted back down the mountain.

The views were amazing, and I was determined to enjoy them for as long as I could - despite the bitterly cold wind. To the north lay the Baumine valley, and beyond it the marvellous massif and summit of Le Chasseron. To the west was the Jougnena valley and the diminishing Jura ridgelines. To the east ... it was all magic ... lakes (Neuchâtel and Leman), plains and Alps.

Under the geodetic triangulation survey pyramid at the summit of Le Suchet - 1588m.

I stayed for a short while to take a few photos, and to shoot some more video ... which later turned out to be so wind-shaken and tormented to be virtually unusable - then headed down in cold pursuit. It was now about 2.30pm.

The wind had been incredible at the summit, reminiscent of the "tempest" which the famous early 19th century English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote about in his poem "On the dark height of Jura":

"Ghosts of the dead! Have I not heard your yelling
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the blast,
When o'er the dark aether the tempest is swelling,
And on eddying whirlwind the thunder-peal passed?

For oft have I stood on the dark height of Jura,
Which frowns on the valley which opens beneath;
Oft have I braved the chill night-tempest's fury,
Whilst around me, I thought, echoed murmurs of death.

And now, whilst the winds of the mountain are howling,
O father! thy voice seems to strike on mine ear;
In air whilst the tide of the night-storm is rolling,
It breaks on the pause of the elements' jar.

On the wings of the whirlwind which roars o'er the mountain
Perhaps rides the ghost of my sire who is dead:
On the mist of the tempest which hangs o'er the fountain,
Whilst a wreath of dark vapour encircles his head."

 Looking northwest along the Jura towards Le Chasseron (No 14).

 The majestic view in the east - the Alps.

 Looking down on Lake Neuchâtel and the lake-side village of Yverdon-les-Bains.

 I soon caught-up with Lis, who was waiting in the sheltered col. We slowly made our way back to the second summit, taking a few more photos along the way. We also surprised a small mob of chamois feeding on the exposed grasses and herbs. Being downwind, we were able to get quite close to them. In all, we saw about half-a-dozen chamois during the walk.

Lis looking happy out of the wind.

 A semi-buried Chalet du Suchet, with Yverdon-les-Bains and Lac Neuchâtel in the distance. It's possible to drive to the 17th century Chalet du Suchet (1489m) during the warmer months. It provides meals and a place to stay for transjurassien ramblers and other hikers.

Before long, we were back at the lower summit, where we paused for one last, long look at the amazing view over the Swiss Plateau towards the Alps, and back up towards Le Suchet.

Lis looking east towards the Alps from the lower Le Suchet summit.

Last look back to the summit of Le Suchet.

 We were now enjoying beautiful sunshine, beautiful powder snow ... and no wind. It was truly glorious. We made good time back down the ridgeline to La Poyette. This time we kept to the trail, skirting around the northern side of the hillock we'd "bush-bashed" over on the way up.

 Lis on the trail west of La Poyette. Le Suchet in the background.

The sun was shining bright, but sinking fast in the (south) western skies. A huge bank of black cloud was building-up over the southern Jura, which would mean the sun would set even earlier than normal today, so we kept our heads down and made tracks as fast as we could. We trekked back up the ridgeline to Grand Bel Coster, then back down the other side towards Entre Les Fourgs.

Lis passing Grand Bel Coster.

Sure enough, once the sun hit the wall of cloud over the Jura, the lights went out very suddenly, and we found ourselves making our way down the last bit of the mountain in growing darkness. Even so, it added something special to our hike, and the sight looking back over Entre les Fourgs, once we reached there, was magic.

The French Jura to the west of Entre les Fourgs (in foreground).

We trudged down the last of the slopes, past the ski run now filled with twilight skiers, and back into Entre les Fourgs. It was about 4.45 - six and a half hours since our departure from here this morning. Six hours on the trail in snowshoes! We'd feel it in the morning, but we'll also look back on one of the best hikes we've done all year. I can definitely recommend Le Suchet as a destination for anyone wanting a great hike in the Jura.

Jura Peaks bagged

• Le Suchet (No. 19) 1588m

Trivia:

• Schlep: To go somewhere far away, usually a difficult destination that takes some toil to reach.

• The Toblerone Line's real name is the Promenthouse Line, named after one of the three rivers along whose course the toblerones run (the others being the Combe and the Sérine). It is an anti-tank line, first built in the 1930s, but reinforced during WW2. In total length about 15 kilometres, the line of 16 tonne, triangular-shaped concrete blocks is more commonly now called the Toblerone Line - in recognition of the similarly-shaped popular Swiss chocolates (which are apparently themselves modelled on the shape of the Matterhorn mountain). 
• Percy Shelley wrote "On a dark height of Jura" as part of an epic entitled "St Irvyne; or, The Rosicrucian" - which he wrote while at Eton College in about 1810. He visited the Jura twice in the following decade. (See also Le Noirmont).