For many years I've carried a picture in my head that I believed to show Lac de Joux – I was wrong, it was another lake that had been on my mind. My friend Peggy whom I told about my memories thought they sounded a lot like Lac de Bret that she knew from childhood – and so I went there, and yes, it definitely conformed to the picture in my head.
My information said that Lac de Bret was a twenty-minute walk from Moreillon train station. There were no sign posts and so I began walking away from the main road and towards the hills at some distance. There was no traffic except for a lonely motorcycle that I managed to stop. I was indeed on my way to the lake, the young girl on the motorcycle informed me. I should cross the golf course up there, she pointed to a lonely house in the distance, and then it should be about fifteen to twenty minutes to walk. In the end, it was closer to forty minutes – a thoroughly pleasurable walk on this most beautiful autumn day.
Except for a car that stopped and offered to drive me to the lake; I was pretty much the only person on the road. Mostly, it was totally still, no sounds, magic.