{"id":396,"date":"2026-05-26T20:39:00","date_gmt":"2026-05-26T18:39:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/?p=396"},"modified":"2026-05-26T21:19:15","modified_gmt":"2026-05-26T19:19:15","slug":"from-alsace-to-the-jura","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/en\/from-alsace-to-the-jura\/","title":{"rendered":"From Alsace to the Jura"},"content":{"rendered":"

The hike from Alsace into the heart of the Jura mountains is scenically very diverse, but also demanding. On the second day, I think about giving up several times. A pulling sensation in my right knee is painful. A visit to the pharmacy in Delle provides relief. Two tubes of arnica ointment and a knee brace help. The last two days are markedly hot, but the hike along the Doubs is scenically very rewarding.<\/p>\n

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Day 8: Alsatian Hospitality<\/h2>\n

The easiest way to get to H\u00e9singue is by taking the tram from Basel train station in the direction of Saint-Louis. At the first stop after the border, at Saint-Louis, Saint-Exup\u00e9ry, change and then take the bus to H\u00e9singue. Figuring out the correct ticket to buy when crossing borders requires some practice. Believing that I once read that a Swiss GA pass allows you to travel to Saint-Louis, I don’t buy a ticket for the one stop from the border to Saint-Louis, Saint-Exup\u00e9ry.<\/p>\n

At the border, four controllers board the tram. I have a GA pass. Apparently, it’s not valid in France. Great. Getting fined for just one stop, what a great start to the day. But I’m even more annoyed that I missed the bus. I stammer that I thought the GA pass was valid until St. Louis, since it’s a Swiss tram.<\/p>\n

However, the ticket inspector sees things differently. Luckily, the head inspector arrives and tells him that the GA pass is valid in France, but not in Germany. Luckily, the connection is saved. And once again, I’ve learned that the minor technical differences can be almost insidious. The Swiss tram would have cost me a hefty fine in Germany.<\/p>\n

In Hesingue, I’ll be on my way shortly. After just a few minutes, I’ll be completely surrounded by greenery. If it weren’t for the occasional airplane noise, you wouldn’t know that Basel is only about 10 kilometers away.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

After a long stretch through the forest, you come to a small village, followed by a quiet country road with no traffic. The path slopes gently upwards, it’s not a difficult climb, but at the top, the view back towards Basel is magnificent.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The next place is called Knoeringue. I’m walking along the Rue de B\u00e2le, with the inscription «Basler Stoss» underneath. I’d love to hear Alsatian spoken, but all I hear is French.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, Knoeringue doesn’t have a store, but it does have a 24\/7 pizza vending machine. Although I was hungry, I decided not to use it. A phone number can be read from a piece of paper stuck to it.<\/p>\n

If I understand correctly, help can be requested there. It seems somehow that the machine is more of a facade than a truly autonomous pizza bakery. Whether that’s the case cannot be said, but the idea doesn’t entice me enough to want to test it.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

On my smartphone, I find a restaurant. It says «Opens in 9 minutes,» and I want to go there. There’s a light on, and the door is open, even though the restaurant is empty at 11 o’clock.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

A woman glances at me and then asks me in clear, understandable Alsatian dialect what I would like. I tell her that I’m looking for something to drink and would also like to eat something. The restaurant doesn’t open until 12, but if I don’t mind that they will also be eating, then I can order something.<\/p>\n

We strike up a conversation, and on a whim, I ask if she would be willing to give me an interview, as she speaks Alsatian. She says yes, of course, but that her sister would have to be there too, as they run the restaurant together.<\/p>\n

During the conversation, I learn that the Alsatian language is struggling among young people. But at least it’s being taught again in kindergarten. Isabel and Sandra run the restaurant, and it’s the fourth generation of their family to do so. Isabel asks me if I know Hansj\u00f6rg Schneider. He used to visit here often and also had a house in the neighboring village. Apparently, a scene (specifically from minute 40 onwards) from ‚Hunkeler macht Sachen‘ was filmed here.<\/p>\n

Feeling well-fed, both culturally and culinarily, I continue on my way. And no, I would have had a much worse experience with the pizza vending machine, compared to the Restaurant au Chasseur in Knoeringue. Many thanks to Isabel and Sandra for the interesting conversation.<\/p>\n

I also ate quite lavishly. A hearty bread soup, a large and elaborate salad, and the finest fried potatoes \u2013 I am completely satisfied and very well fed, even without meat.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Next, there’s a long straight stretch, first paved with asphalt, then unpaved but dry and rocky.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

At some point, the path turns left and stretches endlessly through the landscape. It’s an immersion into a completely different vastness, a dimension that Switzerland doesn’t know, but which begins just beyond Basel.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

It takes you through many grassy and wet paths. With a light rain, I ‚arrive‘ at the end of the day in the hamlet of Niederlarg, in the municipality of Mooslargue. It couldn’t be more beautiful, this bilingual Alsace.<\/p>\n

The hamlet is too small for Francization, the municipality too large to ignore it, but not comprehensive enough overall. Translated, Mooslargue would probably mean «wide marshland,» and that’s exactly how it feels.<\/p>\n

Finding accommodation here isn’t easy. The Golf & Horse Resort seems to be the only place to stay for miles around. There isn’t a restaurant at the resort itself. I could try the golf club, which is about 500 meters away; meals are available there on request.<\/p>\n

I’m tired, too tired to walk to the restaurant in the middle of the large complex. I’ll just settle for the vending machine at the reception. There were some snacks available. When I ‚checked in,‘ I only bought drinks, and after that, even the walk to the snack box was too much. Or, to put it another way, I was just too tired and fell asleep with my legs stretched out.<\/p>\n

Day 9: In pain, going to the pharmacy<\/h2>\n

Early in the morning, I set off. I walk through muddy paths before finally leaving Alsace after reaching Pfefferhausen. In the Belfort department, there are no longer any Alsatian place names.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I’m tired, and I feel a sharp pain in my right leg \u2013 I think it’s time for a break. My attempt to launch the drone from the ground fails. I can’t find a level spot to take off from. I sit down and launch it from my hand. It works perfectly, until the drone gets caught in the tree above me. Being as tired as I am, I didn’t notice that I was sitting under a tree.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Now it’s hanging there on the tree, about six meters high. I build a ‚grabbing tool‘ out of branches. With two branches and a walking stick tied to a pole, I manage to get the thing down to the ground. Tired as I am, I don’t notice that one of the propellers is partially broken.<\/p>\n

So I start again (this time freestanding). Due to the faulty propeller, the thing whirs uncontrollably towards the structure and gets caught again, this time probably at five meters. I had unfortunately already disassembled the pole beforehand. So, another pole assembly, shaking, and catching.<\/p>\n

It took me a good hour and a half to deal with the ‚retrieval‘. I didn’t have the spare propellers with me, which means the drone adventure is over for the next few days. At least, my knee pain had ‚disappeared‘ during that time. But unfortunately, it quickly returned as soon as I was on the next country road.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

In the next village, where there are no longer any street signs with German-sounding names, I come across more beautiful timber-framed houses. A man asks me if I intend to walk all the way to Santiago. My thoughts are on my aching knee and the possibility of having to stop my walk. I stammer something in bad French, saying that I’m going to Delle.<\/p>\n

Since I wasn’t carrying a walking stick or a scallop shell, I wondered why he asked me about Santiago. Shortly after, I saw signs indicating that I was on the Camino de Santiago, and the path did indeed lead to Santiago.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Nevertheless, my only goal today is to deal with this bruise. There are two options: either cancel the tour or visit the pharmacy and get some arnica ointment; I think that might help.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Shortly afterwards, I found myself near the Swiss border once again. Crossing is prohibited. I don’t even want to go back to Switzerland; the small border town of Delle is sufficient for me. In fact, my route to Delle mostly follows a forest path. At some point, however, I reach a clearing in the forest.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I’ve been there before. Yes, in 2020, I hiked with my family from Boncourt to Chiasso. In the background, you can see the small tower of Mont Renaud. Our trip took us across Switzerland to the southernmost point of the country. And in 2026, we will go there again, this time simply around the outside.<\/p>\n

This little encounter makes me happy, even though I now have three options: a) I walk through Switzerland to Delle (shortest route), b) I hike back (an extra 2 kilometers) or c) I go back to the path through the bushes. I choose option c). I trudge through the undergrowth, it’s steep and slippery at the same time. More than once I end up on the ground. It’s not painful, but I am dirty and wet.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I don’t arrive in Delle until around 12 o’clock. The pharmacy is open. I buy two tubes of arnica cream and a knee brace. It costs 50.05 euros. They round down the last 5 cents. I sit down in front of the door and rub the cream in, then put on the knee brace. I stand up, and yes, the pain is gone. Happily, I set off, the day or the tour is saved. About 100 meters later, I realize that I left the poles at the pharmacy. How tired must I be to leave the poles behind?<\/p>\n

So, back we go, grab the poles, and onwards. Luckily, it’s still manageable, even with the poles, and I’m hiking without pain. I’m hungry. It just seems like Delle is deserted. Many shops are closed. Not just for today, but probably for longer, or even permanently. The restaurants don’t seem to be expecting any guests either. The salvation lies in a snack bar. They have a pizza in French style. Lots of cheese and very little tomato sauce. With a good appetite, no problem.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Out of my 39 kilometers, I have only covered 18 in Delle so far. With a full stomach and having received the best possible ‚medical‘ care, I set off in good spirits, first along a country road and later across open fields. I effortlessly begin to ascend into the first Jura hills.<\/p>\n

The hills are getting longer and steeper, but I don’t mind. I’m just happy to be able to keep running, to be allowed to keep running.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

After a little over two hours, I reach Abb\u00e9villers, having covered 30 of the 39 kilometers for today. Now, the route steadily climbs uphill towards Blamont, my destination for the day. Unfortunately, I can’t find the direct shortcut to the village. I have to take a long detour, which leads uphill on a bad road. Once I reach the top, I find a place where at least one bar is open. I ask where I can buy groceries.<\/p>\n

Ah, it’s outside the town, over the hill. And so, instead of the planned 39 kilometers, I end up walking 42 today. I do some frantic shopping at the supermarket. The day is saved. With heavy luggage, but not without a sense of pride over my «loot,» I walk back to my holiday apartment. It was a long day. I can feel my feet again at the end, but it’s no longer that sharp pain in my knee, and the arnica ointment feels good on my feet.<\/p>\n

Day 10: Long hills to the Doubs<\/h2>\n

Before seven o’clock, I’m already back on my feet. I head down to the familiar path. This is followed by the first ascent. Once I reach the top, in Villars-l\u00e8s-Blamont, I come across a large fountain.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

A bus drives past me, a small sign of civilization, at least. It continues uphill. I’ve now reached over 700 meters. The gate to the path across the meadow won’t open, so I have to climb under it. I fear a herd of wild cows. But they remain peaceful. The dog on the path, less so, but two long sticks keep a sufficient distance between us.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

There’s a lovely path leading down to the Doubs. But towards the end, it gets quite steep, and my knee is acting up again. Not terribly, but it’s definitely noticeable.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Therefore, I’m not upset when the road starts climbing again down by the Doubs. The ascent is steep and deserves to be earned. It climbs almost 600 meters.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Along the way, I pass through Courtefontaine. It’s a lovely place. Around noon, just before twelve, I encounter a group of children who bring the all-encompassing silence of the place to life. Right next door, the school bus is waiting, presumably to distribute the ‚crowd‘ to the surrounding villages later. According to the map, there is a restaurant called ‚Chez Papa‘, but it is only open for a few hours from Thursday to Sunday. The remoteness here is enormous. It is almost a sensation to note that I am meeting three other hikers for the first time since Basel.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The mystery is quickly solved; I find myself on the GR5, that European long-distance hiking trail that runs from the Netherlands to Nice. I hiked from Lake Geneva to Nice last year, so in a way, it’s a happy reunion.<\/p>\n

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My day’s destination, the town of Charmauvillers, is reached by traversing a ridge or hill range, with a constant up and down. In principle, I could also have hiked directly down to the Doubs River via Gaumois or Damprichard. However, since I couldn’t find suitable accommodation in either of those towns, I chose Charmauvillers.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Along the way, there is a lot of agriculture and lush meadows. There are so many cows that it feels like I’m definitely in Switzerland, and beautiful old Jura-style houses that make me even more certain that I’m in Switzerland.<\/p>\n

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On the hard pavement, reality hits me in Charmauvillers. I could buy a multiple of the number of houses here and still not find a store or restaurant. The only thing available is a vending machine for cheese, milk, and butter at the local dairy. Huge tanks, presumably for milk, create an almost apocalyptic scene. Otherwise, there’s nothing here except for one vacation rental, which happens to be available.<\/p>\n

The apartment is well-equipped. Besides the whirlpool, where I spent what felt like hours relaxing my muscles in the bubbling water, there was also a sauna, but with outside temperatures above 30 degrees, I didn’t feel like using it. I also remember that the ‚pool‘ can only be turned off by pressing the toggle switch on the fuse box to the off position.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The landlord brings me a bottle of water and also a beer. He gets the breakfast from the bakery. If I understood correctly, it won’t be possible before ‚Six heures et demie‘ (6:30).<\/p>\n

Day 11: Hungry and thirsty, following the Doubs<\/h2>\n

I missed breakfast because even after seven o’clock, I couldn’t find the agreed-upon breakfast basket in front of the door. I also see that the landlord’s two cars are parked in the parking lot. Continuing to wait doesn’t seem very sensible. Over 30 degrees are forecast for this afternoon, and I have another 40 kilometers of walking ahead of me.<\/p>\n

The length of this stage is due to the fact that I couldn’t find any available accommodation on the French side. So, I set off at a quarter past seven. The path leads down to the Doubs. The descent is sometimes steep and even rocky. Fortunately, today I don’t feel any more pulling in my knee, thank you, Arnica!<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I’m hiking all alone. Not a soul is out and about today. Instead, ducks are quacking everywhere, and the birds are chirping, conveying the message that it will be a beautiful day.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

It’s always a gentle upward slope as you follow the river. The solitude in this deep gorge is immense. For a short while, I come across a small road, one or two cars drive past, but otherwise, it is a mystical natural setting.<\/p>\n

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After about an hour, I reach Lac du Biofond. The dammed lake accompanies me for another hour, and at one point, I have to climb a near-vertical iron ladder over a rock face. Anyone who is not good with heights will probably suffer.<\/p>\n

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There’s almost no sign of civilization. In the distance, you can hear a few chainsaws, but otherwise, it seems like there’s really no one around. At the end of the lake, on the Swiss side, there are a few houses, but it doesn’t look like there’s a restaurant. A narrow bridge leads into Switzerland, but without any prospect of supplies, one’s love for Switzerland can sometimes have limits.<\/p>\n

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Further downstream, after another two kilometers, there is another bridge leading into Switzerland. There, you’ll even find a post bus stop (with service in the morning and evening) and a hostel with the aptly named ‚La Chambre des randonneurs‘.<\/p>\n

On the French side, I find only one inhabited house within about 20 kilometers. There, an elderly woman gives me water. She adds that there is nothing here on the Doubs, not even any wells. The only water source is two kilometers further downstream.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

This ‚lack‘ of civilization stands in stark contrast to a landscape that offers endless enjoyment. The only catch is that the path is sometimes rather rocky. Once you reach the water source, there’s a small hut (which can be used as a bivouac), the water source itself, and a table.<\/p>\n

I meet Pasquale. She is hiking from Toulouse to Strasbourg and later in the year, she plans to hike through the Pyrenees. I would have liked to chat longer, but I still have a long way to go before I reach Morteau. Pasquale suggests that I could also stay overnight in the town before. It’s a bit difficult, though, since I already have a room booked in Morteau.<\/p>\n

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Again and again, I come across the small shelters. And again and again, I have to watch out that the large stones on the path don’t make me fall. About two kilometers before the dam of Lac des Brenets, the path climbs steeply. I’m sweating. Thirst and hunger are bothering me.<\/p>\n

In the hamlet of Le Pissoux, I ask for water again. It’s a good idea because, although the view from the top of the hill is all-encompassing, the sun is beating down relentlessly on the country road. There’s also no more shade, and without enough water, the hike would be almost a rather dangerous undertaking.<\/p>\n

Even drinking plenty of water doesn’t fool my stomach into thinking that it hasn’t been waiting for a refill for about 30 kilometers. I walk past a house. Subtly written on it is ‚Restaurant Belvedere‘. It’s so subtle, in fact, that I wouldn’t dare disturb the woman in the garden.<\/p>\n

Clearly, the inn no longer exists; it’s being very lavishly privatized. And therefore, it would also be inappropriate to openly announce one’s hunger behind the lush, well-maintained hedge.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

I had more luck a few kilometers later at Les Cal\u00e8ches du Saut du Doubs. In front of the large restaurant, there are several large horse-drawn carriages. Later, I read online that the rides cross the border.<\/p>\n

The restaurant offers a rustic ambiance. Apart from a woman behind the counter, there’s no one else around. Technically, the kitchen isn’t open, but they can still put together a nice cheese platter. Our descent to Morteau is saved.<\/p>\n

Down in the valley, you’ve got the full range of civilization. The contrast to the morning’s solitude is immense. Even at the entrance to the town, there are all the fast-food chains and supermarkets that I know.<\/p>\n

The path to the hotel leads me over a small hill. I’m already tempted to complain about the few extra meters in altitude, before I come across a stately old factory building. «Chocolatier Klaus» is written on it.<\/p>\n

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I step into the factory outlet, and my heart is filled with joy. There’s this stark contrast: for almost the entire day, I’ve been living a rather austere lifestyle (mainly in terms of food), and now I find myself in a true chocolate paradise. Also, the shop is so lovingly designed that it simply invites you to linger (and sample).<\/p>\n

I would love to go on a big shopping spree right now, but since we have another hiking day planned for tomorrow and temperatures are expected to be well over 30 degrees, that wouldn’t be a very successful endeavor. So, I’ll sample the different products and settle for a package of brightly colored, elaborately decorated gingerbread cookies.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

While talking to the woman at the counter, I also learn that Chocolatier Klaus originally had a factory in Le Locle, but that location no longer exists. The products are primarily distributed in the Franche-Comt\u00e9 region, and through the online store klaus.com.<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

To all those who read these lines ‚just‘ for the sake of mentally wandering along: there are several trains a day from Le Locle to Morteau (and back), and the factory outlet is about 500 meters from the train station. The products are of excellent quality. In short, a trip to Morteau is definitely worth it, if only to visit Chocolatier Klaus. Personally, I’ve decided that I want to go there again, this time without hiking boots, and that means something.<\/p>\n

Day 12: We walked to Pontarlier with wet feet<\/h2>\n

I set off at six in the morning. Thanks to this early start, I witness a fascinating spectacle of fog banks drifting lightly and gracefully above the Doubs river.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

This is the most beautiful morning atmosphere I’ve experienced so far on my trip. This wonderful mood is only briefly marred by the fact that my path leads right through an unmown meadow. I should have taken the detour, because after crossing that small stretch of path (maybe 100 meters), not only are my pants soaking wet, but so are my hiking boots.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

So, I end up walking around with wet feet, which isn’t very appealing. And yesterday, I even went out of my way to wash my socks and spent what felt like over an hour fluffing them up with the hair dryer to make them nice and fresh. All of that, ruined in about 2 minutes.<\/p>\n

Had I approached the situation a bit more rationally, I wouldn’t have crossed the field. But in that unique morning atmosphere, it simply didn’t occur to me that fog overhead could also mean wetness below. Hiking means learning, and sometimes learning the hard way.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The typical houses in the Jura region are all large and imposing, as are the hills. For the first time on my tour, I will be going above 1000 meters.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The incline itself isn’t a problem, but the paths are quite muddy in parts and require a lot of balance to navigate. Well, my feet are already wet, so a little mud on the soles doesn’t really matter anymore.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Later, I’ll be hiking on asphalt. There isn’t much traffic. This Whit Saturday, a lot of road cyclists are out and about. A swap would be tempting, but who would give me their fancy bike in exchange for my hiking tour? A hopeless endeavor!<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Later, I’ll turn left and go over some hills, passing through some incredibly beautiful forest areas. Before that, I can finally put on some new socks. In the meantime, the shoes have dried enough that the new socks can handle the remaining moisture inside.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The remaining stretch to Pontarlier was therefore a bit more comfortable in terms of footwear. However, due to the moisture in the soles, I ended up with two large blisters. At half past one, I arrived at the Pontarlier train station. Tired but satisfied, I realize that I have covered a good 170 kilometers in 5 days. I can be satisfied.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The return journey by train to Zurich still needs to be worthwhile. Trains to Switzerland run very infrequently. There is a connection to Neuch\u00e2tel at 15:00, at 17:00 I would have to take a longer route via France and Basel, and afterwards there is another connection at 21:00 via Bern.<\/p>\n

This is somewhat remarkable, as Pontarlier was a TGV stop on the Bern-Paris line in the 1980s. Today, the station appears deserted. No wonder, as the TGV hasn’t passed through here for a long time. All that remains is a TGV parking lot that could accommodate 120 vehicles. On the 3:00 PM train to Neuch\u00e2tel, there are perhaps only about 20 people. Indeed, in this case, more connections wouldn’t make sense.<\/p>\n

I’m curious to see how I can manage this with the onward journey. The first connection from Zurich departs at 11:01 to Pontarlier. However, the journey actually involved going via Basel, Mulhouse, and Dijon (!!!) and then back via Fresne. The first ‚direct‘ train only arrives in Pontarlier after 1 p.m.<\/p>\n

Nevertheless, I am confident that I will somehow overcome this small ‚problem‘. After walking 400 kilometers now, I have learned that not everything goes according to plan, but ultimately, progress is constantly being made. In this spirit, I look forward to continuing my journey soon.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The hike from Alsace into the heart of the Jura mountains is scenically very diverse, but also demanding. On the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[184,202,190,79,182,188,9,186],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-396","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-alsace","category-chocolatier-klaus-en","category-doubs-en","category-france","category-jura-en","category-morteau-en","category-nicht-kategorisiert-en","category-pontarlier-en"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/396","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=396"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/396\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":398,"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/396\/revisions\/398"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=396"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=396"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ch1291.ch\/cms\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=396"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}