THE ALPS - Chamonix

We’d been to Mont Blanc, so as Chamonix is the nearest town, we decided to pop into the centre, have a wander and grab a coffee in the sunshine.



I’d been told that because it sits in the shadow of Mont Blanc, Chamonix is often colder than other resorts, but today the rays were shining onto all the old fashioned buildings and pavement cafés, and it was easy to see why Chamonix is so popular.



Loved by skiers and by mountain athletes of all types, Chamonix really became known after it hosted the very first winter Olympics in 1924. These days with the fibreglass skis and colourful lycra/gortex clothing, it is hard to imagine the basic wooden skis and suits worn by the competitors of yester-year!


16 January 1924

The town was much bigger than I’d thought at first sight, and whilst we’d planned a quick stop-off, we found ourselves wandering through the wide streets full of chic (expensive) boutiques interspersed with winter sports shops.



Perhaps the strangest sight of the day was a rather portly French chap, dressed as a Russian which his huge horse and cart. Goodness knows what sort of horse it was, but it was enormous and very solidly built, so I kept my distance!



A quick coffee for which we paid through the nose, and we were on our way again which was a shame as I felt we’d barely scratched the surface of the this lovely Alpine town. I will certainly be back...

THE ALPS - Mont Blanc and l'Aiguille du Midi Cable car

Today was one of the most thrilling/terrifying of my life. I am scared of heights, so whatever possessed me to go to up the Aiguille du Midi, just 1000m below the summit of Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps (and Western Europe) at 4810m high, I will never know!



I don’t know what was more horrifying; the thought of climbing to an altitude of 3842m but a cable car suspended on what looked like a bit of string (perhaps a slight over-simplification!) or the price of the return ticket at 41 euros – eek!



I wasn’t inspired by the notice board at the boarding gate either which announced fine weather, but temperatures of -13˚ and a 3/5 risk of avalanche. The doors to the cable car opened and we surged forward which was probably just as well as I might have turned to flee otherwise.



These cable cars look tiny but can hold between 60-70 people. Our group were mainly skiers off to do the Vallee Blanche (white Valley) which is seriously dangerous off-piste skiing with no marked runs and no surveillance. There are signs everywhere to warn of the risks and these are quite blunt almost to the point of ‘if you do this and die, it’s not our fault’.



The scenery was absolutely stunning, and I would have taken some photos if I’d been able to prise my hands off the handrail, and to be honest, we were only saved from me lying face down on the floor and praying because it was so packed!



The ascent is too high and steep to do in one go – it was the world’s higest cable car for about 20 years, and still holds the record as the highest vertical ascent cable car in the world – I am making myself feel woozy just writing about it!! At the Plan de l’Aiguille (2317m high) you have to get out and then take another cable car to the top.



The views from the summit are something I will never forget, and I was glad that I’d braved it. The other thing that I’ll remember for a very long time was the cold. I have never felt temperatures as low as -13 degrees before and it is a very strange sensation, because it’s a really dry cold.



Fortunately as I am always cold, I’d dressed for the occasion in thermals, fleecy tracksuit trousers, jumper, fleecy thermal top, coat, scarf, gloves, ski socks and snow boats, and I was still freezing to the extent that my breath was freezing my sunglasses!



The altitude is another killer and I am sure that I have abnormally small lungs because even the effort of climbing the steps up to the panoramic terrace at the top was almost too much for me, and I had to sit down to catch my breath. How on earth they ever worked up there to build the cable car is beyond me…



We found the ice tunnel and the start of the Alpine track to where you can ski the Vallee Blanche (mad fools), but because it is so steep and dangerous, only skiers are allowed to descend, even if you have snow boots with crampons.



Although I could have stayed all day and taken photos from all around, it was just too cold, so we decided to go back down to the Plan de l’Aiguille where there is a little snack bar/café. Even though it is still very high here, the sun was beating down and I am ashamed to say that I managed to get a nice set of panda eyes without even sitting directly in the sun!



All in all, this is a trip I will probably never do again (mainly because cable car or helicopter are the only ways to get there), but it was one of the most thrilling experiences of my life so I am so pleased that I did it despite the fear!

THE ALPS - Samoëns

After a short contre-temps with a mad French bloke in the car park at the edge of the village, we finally wandered into the village of Samoëns to find it was market day – what luck!



It was difficult to fully appreciate all the beautiful buildings as we were far too busy darting from one stall to another to see what bargains we could find, but all that changed when we arrived in the centre.



The village has been classified by UNESCO and it is easy to see why. There is a huge Linden tree in the centre that dates back to the 14th century, and must measure about a metre in diameter, a beautiful church, what was presumably once a watering hole for the horses and all manner of little towers and turrets as well as the ornately carved wooden balconies of more recent times.



I love exploring new places on foot because you see so much more than from a car or bus, plus you can just stop wherever the fancy takes you. Ours took us to one of the many shops selling local Savoyard specialities such as saucisson, cured hams, cheeses and jams. Quelle surprise!



Luckily, lunch was still a fair way off because I am convinced that if we’d have been hungry, we would have left with a whole ham in our handbags!



Talking of hams, the strangest moment of the day came when I petted a piglet in the market! The guys on the stall had clearly hit upon a fabulous marketing gimmick as virtually everyone stopped to stoke the brillo-pad heads of the baby pigs or to let them lick their hands, and their opening gambit was ‘do you like animals’, from which they then tried to sell you a box of sweeties. Bizarre, but it seemed to work 9 times out of 10.



It wasn’t long before we found the food market down by the ice skating rink and a scary looking gyroscope type thing that had a small child strapped into it. It could have been a medieval torture device but she seemed to be enjoying herself so we decided to ignore the screams.



The fruits and vegetables looked so inviting, but it was the colours of the flowers that caught my eye – who would have thought it was mid April with snow all over the mountains.



Tucked away unobtrusively in one of the little side streets is the Botanical garden. We’d read in the Michelin that there is a little chapel at the top with fabulous views, so we climbed up the steep path, stopping now and then to take photos of the little flowers.



I am sure that the gardens would be absolutely spectacular in the summer, but as it is still quite cool for mid-April, we didn’t see it at its best when all the flowers come into bloom and the ground is a riot of colour.



We’d intended to visit the main church in the village square too, but completely forgot on the first day, and by the time we remembered the next day, it was after 7pm so the church was shut. Milles Tonneres! Luckily that gave me a good excuse to just sit and enjoy a glass of mulled wine at ‘La Cheminée’ before our thoughts turned to supper.



The first night we had eaten so well at the Restaurant ‘La Clarine’ that although we looked at all the other menus, we found ourselves back at the same place to try yet another speciality dish ‘Fondue Savoyard’ which is a cheese fondue served with salad, cured meats and a particularly good local wine. My gym membership form is already half completed...

THE ALPS - Lac de Montriond

We’d planned to head up to the Gorges de Diablo (Devil’s Gorge) for a little excursion after our meetings in Morzine, but luckily we had the foresight to call ahead and discovered they were closed. Drats!



Fortunately the car is well equipped with such diverse items as knives and forks, walking boots, wet wipes, a 70’s disco music CD, about 15 saucissons and various guide books, because you never know! We found that just a few kilometres north was the Lac de Montriond and the Cascade d’Ardent, so off we went.



As we were only at 1065m altitude it was really shocking to discover that most of the lake was still frozen and the path surrounding it was not only covered in snow, but had been compacted to thick ice that was absolutely treacherous.



In the end it was too hazardous to continue round the lake on the path as the chances of slipping and falling into the freezing/frozen water were too high, so we jumped into the car and drove to the other end where there was an aptly named little restaurant ‘Au Bout du Lac’.



This end of the lake obviously catches the sun as it was mostly fluid and the colours were amazing. At its deepest point, the lake plunges to depths of 19 metres and according to the sign seems to be a popular swimming spot in the summer, but I was slightly more concerned with the other sign...



Disappointingly, the sun was hidden by the clouds for most of the day so we couldn’t see the scenery in it’s full glory which was a real shame, but the water was so flat and calm that the reflections of the snow-capped mountains in the water were actually clearer that the view when we looked at them the right way up. Weird.



We wanted a photo taken, so we asked a passerby who had a camera around his neck (normally a safe bet), if he’d take one of us with the lake and mountain behind. I was slightly worried when he asked if we were sure we wanted it take portrait rather than landscape because we’d have to look at the screen sideways!! How on earth do we find these people?

THE ALPS - Les Gets

We’d passed Les Gets on our way to Morzine and I can’t say that I’d been impressed, but I was glad that we made the effort to come back and visit properly, as we’d managed to by-pass the whole town!



The resort itself is really quite small – one main road through the centre and walking distance from one end of the village to the other. The ESF school and main piste is right in the centre, so you can’t miss it (or the tanned ski instructors swaggering their way to their favourite watering hole), and there is another lift at just at the far edge of the village.

The whole place has a feel of the ski resorts in the Rockies on a much smaller scale.



There was still a fair amount of snow, and a surprising amount of people on the slopes considering that it’s not school holidays or the weekend, but I couldn’t help wondering how many of them would make it down safely as I’d heard on the radio this morning that Thursday is statistically the day for most injuries.



Apparently it is a combination of dehydration and the thoughts of returning to work that cause most people to lose their concentration, but our lot seemed to be doing fine, thank goodness. We explored the town for a while on foot, but as the weather wasn’t great for sightseeing (although fabulous ski conditions), we decided to call it a day.

THE ALPS - Morzine

After being stuck behind a logging truck for the best part of 10km and then attempting a daring overtaking manoeuvre on the mountains roads after watching him nearly knock over a signpost, I was glad we’d managed to make it to Morzine at all!



Being the slick travel industry professionals that I am, I tend to assume that I’ll be able to find anywhere without proper directions, so it was a bit of a shock to find that Morzine is in fact much larger than the other resorts we’d visited, and covers a huge area.



Luckily we spotted a fit looking ESF ski instructor in his distinctive red uniform so it seemed a good excuse to call him over and ask for directions J. We finally managed to find the Hotel le Petit Dru where we had our first meeting of the morning, and the lovely owner offered us a coffee which was great as we’d missed out on a café breakfast thanks to the lumber truck.



We explored on foot and soon found ourselves in the Patisserie for the tarts for our picnic lunch, but I wasn’t as thrilled by the selection as I had been in Saint Gervais. We settled on a Myrtille soufflé and a Myrtille crumble – can you see a theme here??

After a few false starts and trips round the one way system on the centre (I now know the back streets like the back of my hand!), we were off again for lunch at the little Chappelle des Mouilles.



Luckily we are both comfortable with ‘the great outdoors’ as there are hardly any public loos anywhere, but I did get a little shock when I thought there was a Marmotte (Gopher) sitting on top of the car. Fortunately on closer inspection it turned out to be a suede handbag. Really must get my eyes tested again...



While I was waiting, I noticed that there was a hole right through the trunk of the tree opposite the chapel, so as I couldn’t see in (another reason to call the optician), I thought I’d take a photo. When we got back in the car, we compared photos and realised that we’d both taken picture of the hole in the trunk, but it seems they weren’t the same holes. I think maybe we were on a sugar high from the tarts!!

THE ALPS - Restaurant La Clarine, Samoëns

As usual, we were on the look out for a typical Savoyard restaurant serving good local specialities for as little money as possible, and I felt sure that Samoëns wouldn’t disappoint! We found a couple of places that seemed to fit the bill, but in the end we settled on the Restaurant ‘La Clarine’.



At first I was a bit dubious because it looked like it was attached to a rowdy après-ski bar, but it turned out to be a real gem; wooden furniture with typically cosy red and green decorations. We chose a creamy of cows milk cheese which is bakes with charcuterie and warm potatos, and a gratin served with cured meats and a green salad.



As usual we decided to share which is lucky because I knew we’d have to count the salad as one our our ‘5-a-day’ fruit and vegetables. Counting the cornichons, that makes a sum total of 2 today then. Oh dear...

THE ALPS - Sixt Fer à Cheval

As we didn’t have any decent coffee at the apartment, we decided to start our day at the Café La Grange in Saint Gervais les Bains. I was delighted with the old fashioned blue ceramic cups and miniature milk jug that looked like it had come from a dolls house, but not as excited as I was when we got to the Patisserie!



With rows and rows of sticky, delicious-looking, calorie-laden offerings, it was difficult to choose, but in the end we plumped for a Linzer Framboise (raspberry tart) and a local speciality that looked like a triangle of puff pastry with toasted almonds on one side and sandwiched with Myrtille – yum!



We’d planned a little excursion to Sixt Fer à Cheval and the Cirque de Fer à Cheval, which had two snow flakes in the guide Michelin (I didn’t know they gave snowflakes instead of stars for the mountain regions – how cool is that!). The village of Sixt Fer à Cheval came first and it wasn’t long before I was out of the car snapping away.



The old hotel in front of the abbey was clearly disused, but was still an impressive building in the shabby-chic sort of way that I love about little French villages. We ignored the barriers and sneaked through the grounds to get to the abbey behind where there was a fab view of the mountains, but as the church itself was closed, it wasn’t long before we were off again heading for the ‘cirque’.



I wasn’t entirely sure what the Cirque Fer à Cheval was, so another quick squint at the Michelin guide told me that it is an impressive semi-circular mountain range – it wasn’t wrong! without realising it, we’d stopped a number of times to take photos of various sections from a distance without knowing that that was exactly where we were heading. We also saw some ‘Chamois’ which are extremely rare wild goats clinging precariously to the mountainside.



When we finally arrived, it was absolutely amazing. We took some photos of the huge cross in front of the enormous high peaks. Apparently in June there are about 30 waterfalls here, but as there isstill lots of snow, it looks like the mountain range is covered with runny icing!



We settled on some big boulders to eat our picnic of Mortadella, fresh bread, and cornichons before sharing the scrummy tarts. We both admitted that we’d had to resist strong temptation not to eat them at breakfast time and my suggestion that we could have shared one at breakfast and the other after lunch was met with ‘or just bought more of them’. Good point!



It was whilst we were finishing lunch that we heard (and felt) the huge roar of an avalanche. Having been unlucky enough to feel the effects of a bomb, this was almost exactly the same and the sound echoed right across the valley. Sadly I wasn’t quick enough with the camera to catch even the huge clouds of powder where the snow had fallen, but we were just grateful it wasn’t anywhere near us.



Near to the village of Sixt Fer à Cheval is another natural wonder which also has two snowflakes, so as we had to pass through the village anyway, we decided to take a little detour.

The Cascades de Rouget is an enormous double waterfall. In true Corsican style, we decided to ignore the obligatory parking area at the top and drive as far as we could. I was adamant that it was because we didn’t have huge amounts of time, but I think we all know that it was to save my lungs from exploding!



We managed to park about 10m from the edge of the waterfall and felt quite smug that many of the other visitors had had to walk up a steep incline for 20-30 minutes. Aren’t we mean! It was a shame that the sun was in the wrong place for any decent shots, and the spray was soaking the camera so we were forced to be quick.



We walked down a little way below the bridge and found a series of smaller waterfalls and rock pools. The sun this side was amazing warm and having had to dress for the arctic at the foot of the main waterfall, we now found ourselves shedding layers at an alarming rate.



On the way down we spotted a tiny chapel typical of the region that dated back to the beginning of the 17th century. There was nowhere nearby that we could reasonably park except for a space in front of a no parking sign, so we decided to become very English and pretend we couldn’t understand the sign.



I think I can safely say that with a couple of notable exceptions, the village of Sixt Fer à Cheval could be had up under the trades descriptions act for their claim to being ‘one of the most beautiful villages in France’ (there really isn’t much there), the two curiosities more than deserve their snowflakes!!