We start as planned, along the main road with light Sunday morning traffic and views of the mountains we are heading for, but in Ugine we are confronted by Route Barre and Deviation signs and our day and route takes an unexpected turn. The deviation takes us out of town on the D109 which the map shows as a scenic route but Snoopy illustrates as a plate of spaghetti. With a jagged rock face on our right we climb steeply around the narrow hairpin bends with little view of what might be coming towards us. On many of them we look down on top of Nick and Grete’s van as it approaches the bend we are leaving. As we wind along with precipitous drops on the other side a a log rail we occasionally get into 3rd gear. Through the trees we get glimpses of mountain peaks and deep valleys. We pull in wherever possible to allow traffic to pass, often getting a wave or toot of thanks. Motor bikes overtake with impunity.
What goes up must come down and after a long time but only a few miles we start the inevitable descent, also rarely allowing Mary*Lou into 3rd, mostly holding tight in 2nd gear. Finally, after ears have popped, we reach Flamet and have a white line in the road to guide us.
We stop in a layby for coffee, looking across green pasture towards wooden alpine chalets. Fir trees range up the distant slopes and the white peaks stand out against blue sky.
The D1212, a main road, is still fairly adventurous and as we turn one corner and start down a steep hill there are fabulous views ahead with a layby just right for lunch. Beside us small headed, mottled cattle graze with their bells clanking. Ahead Mont Blanc towers in the distance, snow peak glistening, upper rock faces peppered with the last of the snow and bare rock slopes of tans and pale greens. Way below is the town of Megeve spread out on the valley floor, traffic barely visible on the snaking road towers Chamonix. Across the valley are little hamlets of chalets with pockets of green pasture and in other places swathes of forest have been cleared for the ski runs.
We set off towards Megeve buts it’s miles away yet and first we come into the little town of Praz sur Arly which the sign tells us is twinned with Roscoff. We have to stop. Unsurprisingly a ski resort full of wood chalet style buildings is nothing like our favourite stony Breton port but there on the roadside is a red and orange steel sculpture instantly recognisable as one of the series of 20 or so similar pieces set in Roscoff by sculptor Richard Brouchard.
Later we get through Megeve and onto a faster road towards Chamonix which is mostly on concrete piers and through a tunnel until we turn off for les Houches. Our stop is just out of town on the edge of a lake surrounded by the mountain peaks.
We park and g to the lakeside cafe for a drink. Across the park climbers are learning their skills on a steep rock wall. One girl is only 8 or 9 but completely happy climbing then abseiling back to her dad on the ropes.
Walking around the lake gives us wonderful views of the mountains while silver birch rustle in the wind and the occasional fish breaks the surface for a fly.
Ali, Nick and Grete walk away from the lake and about 2km into les Houches centre.
Nearly all the town is built of wood with only small stone detailing. Ski rental shops are closed until winter, everything else shut for Sunday. Timber balconies are decorated with flowers and most of the shops and cafes have icicle style winter lights hanging from their gables, it must look very attractive after dark.
We visit the Tourism Office and look inside the white chapel with its copper lantern style spire then as it chimes 6pm we make our way back to the car park. With the sun going behind the mountains the temperature drops quickly from the 23C we had earlier.
Darkness falls as we enjoy our meatball and pasta supper.
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