Through Switzerland and to the Alps
We left the rain soaked Alsace hoping to find the remains of summer lurking somewhere in the Swiss countryside, which we did in a way. At least it was dry all day, although cold. We climbed to the top of the Vosges Mountains and looked down onto Lac Neuchatel, across the central plateau to Lac Genève and with Mont Blanc shimmering in the afternoon sun we breathed a sigh of relief thinking we had finally beaten the bad run of weather. With temperatures in the high twenties it was time to remove some layers and let some warmth in. Good idea, until we neared our destination. Chamonix is a ski resort high in the Alps and even when it’s warm down the valley it’s cold in the evenings. Especially when you’re camping at the bottom of the Glacier and it’s a very still evening. The only way I can explain it is; when you open the freezer door on a warm day and that cold mist gently rolls out. That’s what it was like, with the temperature down to seven again.
We spent a couple of nights in Chamonix and had a rare meal out in town. It gave me a chance to meet up with a couple of old snowboarding mates who live out there. Back in the favourite bar in the Rue des Moulins which is called Bar’d up to sample a few beers and the favoured shot of Fernet Mente. Met up with Ali who was the owner of the famous Wally the dog who sadly is no longer with us but has a suitable replacement called Murphy, who’s a rather overweight Basset hound.
So time to leave and guess what? It started to rain again, Hard. It did clear and dry up after half an hour but we were wet and cold once more. As we climbed col after col getting higher and higher we saw more ski resorts with some great views of the Alps with their snow capped peaks glinting in the sunshine. The trouble with these routes is they take along time which left us at the base of Alp D’uez, another ski resort. So another cold night with more rain left us packing up wet tents and damp belongings once more. The next day the temperature rose to thirty degrees on reaching the Ardeche and we thought yes we’ve done it. Wrong again. We’d hung all our stuff out to dry, which it did. But as I was preparing dinner the thunder begun to rumble and the rain started again. All night this time. So we packed it all up wet again and moved on. Having left with the mercury down at seven and a few drops still bouncing off the visor, it cleared and we’ve had a dry day to ride through the Gorge Du Tarn. Then onto Norman Fosters Bridge at Milau, well under it actually.
So tonight (Friday) we’re camping at the back of an International horse show in Castres at a very nice site. It’s dry at the moment but it’s early. The tent pegs were hard to get into the sun baked ground meaning they could probably do with the rain that will no doubt follow us every single inch of the way. I even looked at the BBC weather site the other night and there was even rain in the Sahara! Maybe we’ll be mistaken for rain Gods and worshipped by the women folk. Who could blame them? I mean we’re three bearded blokes who smell slightly mouldy! Who wouldn’t?
The last minute update is a fifty mile detour around the Costa Brava to miss a huge storm.
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