Stage 8: Cudrefin to Villiers Le Lac

Having endured 48 hours if rain, we were relieved to open the tent to glorious blue skies. We took advantage by hanging our damp kit on any spare surface available around the tent. While we charged various bits of equipment, Tom indulged his penchant for European supermarkets and cycled off for a breakfast run, returning with fresh bread, ricotta, meat and orange juice. We breakfasted like kings then set off on the road once again.

Our route swept up around the eastern end of the great lake and northwards towards the Jura mountains. We turned off the main road and were suddenly tackling a 15% gradient hill climb. Having focused fully on the Alps, we regarded the Jura as little more than a small wrinkle on the countryside, but after 3 solid hours of some of the steepest inclines we've ever encountered, and 4000ft of climbing, the Jura had earned our respect.

The top of every hill seemed like the summit, but finally we reached it and escaped the high altitude ice cold conditions into the safety of a ski lodge bar. After a  warming drink to toast the last mountain ascent and a change into our thermal gear, we braced ourselves for a huge descent. But as we plunged over the crest, our hearts sank as a brand new ridge presented itself. The Jura hadn't finished with us yet!

Thanks to our rigorous pre-challenge training regime we dispatched the hill with minimal fuss and were soon racing down a dramatic gorge through the 'watch valley' of La Locle, where we passed the headquarters of Tissot, Rolex, Mont Blanc and Tag Heuer. But with the Accurately crafted hand of time ticking down on our stay in Switzerland, we split across the border in to France. Phew.

Now that we could find somewhere to stay without first having to release equity on our house and pay in easy to manage monthly instalments, we dived down into the first French town we found. The sense if relief and excitement in the team was palpable, but a quick ring around the local guest houses of Villiers le Lac painted a bleak picture: no room at the inn.

We decided to check out a deserted looking farm that we'd passed and after an unfruitful knock on the door, we phoned the number pasted on the wall. 'I'll be there in 5 minutes' was the reply, and we waited in eager anticipation. A bubbly lady pulled up in her car and as she showed us around the house it quickly dawned on us that we had an entire French gite to ourselves for the night!

With no supplies in the cupboards, we struck out towards the town's pizza place. A rag-tag motley crew including Fabio Capello as chef and an ageing stripper waitress produced some exceptional pizzas which we washed down with a few well earned beers.

A few half-hearted fireworks popping outside reminded us that it was the national 'Bastille Day' holiday but celebrations in the restaurant amounted to the staff and locals having a heated argument. We left (one for Mike there).

Stuffed, we headed to the Chamelion bar in the main square where we pulled up 3 bar stools next to the place's only other customer...a rotund jolly Labrador! We drained our demis while the dog stared at us, then walked back through this quintessential sleepy rural town, passing Hawaii Pizza where Fabio and the stripper waved sadly at us from their empty restaurant.