Mountain high

Another weekend, another trip to the mountains. With la belle-mère visiting and la bienheureuse taking a couple of days off work, after viewing the traditional quatorze juillet impressive fireworks display on Wednesday evening, we enjoyed three days and nights in Valmorel. After a stop en route for lunch on the shores of Lac d'Aigeubelette, walking plans for the weekend were thrown into partial disarray by the fact that the Valmorel chair-lifts don't work over the weekend. Strange way of pulling in the punters. Compared to a winter weekend the resort was empty, even with the extra numbers attracted by the passage of the Tour de France over the Col de la Madeleine in midweek.

The one place that was teeming was the swimming pool, so we enjoyed a cooling dip rather than a swim shortly after our arrival on Thursday afternoon. The following day it was sunny and already warm as we set off for ramble through the forest and hills above the resort. It was supposed to be an easy walk designed to offer la belle-mère mountain panoramas with which to test out her new toy. The views were there but the length and steepness, in places, of the path were somewhat underestimated. Nonetheless, it was a very pleasant nine km hike, with a stop for lunch in a refuge hut 400m above our starting point. From there it was downhill all the way, and via an encounter with a herd of cows we reached our home for the weekend six hours after starting out. The new camera was thoroughly tested, much like the three walkers.

Dinner out, and an early night followed. Showers and cooler weather greeted us on Saturday, providing an excuse for a lazy morning of reading and recovery and whiling away the time. The rain cleared by late afternoon, so we went for a much shorter stroll through and round the resort, the upper reaches of which are in the throes of major redevelopment. Five large cranes working on a new hotel and complex paused only at night and on Sunday.

We took the scenic route home on Sunday, via Lac du Bourget. Wending our way along the western shore of the lake we eventually found the tiny harbour  tucked into the rocks below the village of Bourdeau, reached only on foot down another steeply descending switchback road. There we ate another tasty picnic lunch before climbing back up to the car and then driving up and up the road over the ridge above the lake. More scenic viewpoints afforded more panoramic photo opportunities before we reached the top and headed down the other side, back towards a warm and stuffy flat in Lyon.