David Whitley heads towards the Swiss border, and finds impressive military architecture mixing with natural beauty in Besançon.
Monkeys in the citadel
It elicits the jerkiest of double-takes. What on earth is a monkey doing there? Crikey, there are hundreds of them…
There are, to be fair, many places you don’t expect to find monkeys – on top of the Eiffel Tower, on the train, in your bathroom – but an old French citadel is close to the top of that list.
Standing on the ramparts and looking down to the left, the view is mesmerising. Besançon has an absolutely gorgeous setting, and somehow the mist it is shrouded in manages to add to the beauty. Below, the river Doubs curls round the old city in an almost perfect loop, choking it like a coiled python.
Enclosed is a sea of terracotta roofs and old buildings, whilst a small, green-tinged sprawl has escaped on the other side of the bank. Tracing the river back down, you can see homes dotted around in the valley, whilst the Jura Massif towers above.
Rain-soaked woodland sprouts from the water’s edge to the hilltops, and crumbling stone forts peek out from behind the trees. It’s the least city-like city imaginable.
To the right, mountain goats mooch about on the hillside, the looks on their faces saying either “There’s something weird about this grass” or “Why are there hundreds of monkeys next to us?”
Vaubin’s unbreachable fortress
You see, as a defensive position, La Citadelle has been almost entirely useless. It was built in the 17th Century by renowned French military tactician Vaubin.
Taking the audio tour around the mountain-top fortress, you learn precisely how much effort was put in. The site was chosen as one near-unbreachable, whilst the building was sculpted to the natural contours of the position, with numerous levels of fortification and positions for archers to fire from at all angles.
It’s almost universally regarded as a masterwork, but given that no-one really wanted to take Besançon anyway, La Citadelle didn’t really see much action until technology had advanced so far that it was nigh-on worthless.
During the Second World War, the Nazis stormed in almost immediately, whilst the Americans took it back just as swiftly when France was liberated.
Inside La Citadelle
Given that it’s not really going to hold out too long in the face of cluster-bombing or cruise missiles, it has now been put to different uses. Within the walls are many things; a war museum, a gallery of fine arts, a climatorium and an exhibition dedicated to the history and traditions of the local area.
It also has a small zoo, which unless you’re really paying attention, you won’t notice when you go through the gate and start following the walking tour.
Thus, after listening to hours of commentary which is way, way too detailed, it comes as a shock to hit the best viewing platform among the battlements and find apes staring back at you, whilst lions doze.
The Double Gloucester cheese houses
The walk down from the citadel is a good deal easier on the calves than the step-after-step trudge up, and the town itself is just as pretty at street level as it is from above. Near the Swiss border, Besançon is the capital of the Franche-Comté region, and it is one of those cities in which it is a privilege to wander around lost.
Most of the buildings are made out of clean, crisp stone, tinged with yellows and blues. It almost looks as though each house has been lovingly carved out of a supersized block of Double Gloucester cheese.
It gives the old city a slightly surreal, cartoony quality to it, and you find yourself smiling without really knowing why. Particularly when you picture the labourers informing the supervising architects that they’ve made a real hash of the door frame, and will need to throw the whole house to the giant rats in the woods.
Architecture in Besançon
It is a city that doesn’t really belong in any particular period of time. It has that charming countryside air about it that makes it appear a good 30 years behind the times, although there are nods to 2007.
For example, there are more recruitment agencies here than possibly anywhere else on the planet. Every shop front at the top end of town appears to be offering jobs, and it’s difficult to work out exactly why.
Architecturally, too, it is a mish-mash, with remnants dating back to Roman times, and stopping off just about everywhere else on the way. It’s a perfect excuse to slip the map back in the pocket and wander aimlessly up and down thoroughfares and alleyways until the legs grow tired, taking in old clock towers, carousels and restaurant terraces.
The River Doubs
Eventually, of course, you’ll end up by the river, which even Julius Caesar found remarkable. Back in 50BC, the most famous Roman Emperor of all said: “The River Doubs encloses almost the whole city within a circle that seems drawn by a compass.”
And it only takes a few steps out of that compass to hit something completely different. Across the gushing waters from the cheese houses is a little woodland track, which zig-zags upwards. It’s the sort of path you ought to come across after hours of walking through the forest, but almost instantly the leaning trees block out the city bustle.
This is full-on countryside, right on the cusp. Allegedly, it is just a kilometre up to one of the many disused forts that surround the city, but that is clearly an outrageous lie.
With distant traffic noises sounding like a babbling brook, it’s a painstaking climb towards the sky.
Fort de Chaudanne
At the top is the Fort de Chaudanne, an imposing, utilitarian-looking building. A stern sign lets it be known that trespassers are not welcome, meaning that someone lives in this spot of splendid isolation.
A peek through the fence-posts reveals a big papier mache chicken, the sort of thing that would adorn a carnival float. I decide it’s probably best not to ask, and stroll past the war memorial to the look-out over the old city.
It’s deserted aside from a shiny black cat, sat precariously on a fencepost with a long drop into Besançon on the other side. It’s the sort that looks like it has temporarily misplaced its witch, and quite how it has got there is a mystery. Still, the moggy has pride of place up above a fairy tale town.
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