It was a stunningly bright day in August 2003, and I cycled up from the Chalain shore through the forests of Fontenu, and out into the pastures around Loulle. Distant bells called lazily as the brown cows mooched across the rolling fields, and buzzards floated in the heat above. I climbed up through more forests, the smell of pine intense in the 35 degree heat, and I heard the tower of Loulle church calling the angelus through the trees from the valley floor.

I came out into wide meadows that stretched for miles beneath the mountains. Impossibly pretty villages clustered around spires and towers in the distance. Beyond le Vaudioux the road climbed again, and at a dog-leg turn above the trees I stopped to look at my map. I had climbed almost a thousand feet in the two hours since leaving the lakeside, and drunk almost two litres of water. This was a lonely road; the land fell away on both sides as the ridge climbed eastwards. Near a crossroads there was a little calvary, which I stopped and photographed; you can see it above. Inside, the Mother of God waited patiently beside a vase of fresh flowers.

Châtelneuf is the largest village for miles, but was sleepy and silent on this hot afternoon. Carved out of the ridge, its roads describe strange curves between the houses that sit high above and the main road below, but both roads come together beyond, and here was the church. For the first time in nearly half an hour a car passed me.

The glazed tiles of the cupola shimmered in the sunlight. A tap by the churchyard gate proclaimed itself eau potable, so I refilled my bottle and stepped gratefully into the cool interior.

The silent inside was lovely. Everything was neat and cared for. The church has some of those curiously high benches, and the sanctuary beyond glowed with colour. Two touches were delightfully human; a 19th century painting of the birth of the Blessed Virgin shows the tired Sainte-Anne being brought a welcome cup of tea, and beyond this a group of religious statues had been arranged as if they were having a conversation at a cocktail party. I almost expected Sainte-Jeanne d'Arc to arrive with a tray of canapes.

I wondered if Sainte-Anne might actually be the dedication, but an anonymous bishop on a plinth to the north of the chancel arch seemed a more likely candidate.

The high gothic window to the east is actually 19th century, I think, but it fills the chancel with light and makes this church uncommonly beautiful. I only wish I knew the dedication.

Châtelneuf church is just to the west of the N5 south of Champagnole; approch via le Vaudioux. The church is to the south of the village.