I am sitting under a sign that has the following written carefully in cursive, decorated with sketches of Alpine wildflowers: silence, peace, and love reign here.
Yes they do. How enormously lucky for me, isn't it! How humbling.
(here's the full sign)
The thing is, I'm actually in the wrong place. I took the wrong bus and climbed up (therefore) the wrong mountain. Yet, peace reigns. It is so quiet that I am startled by a bird cry that I'm sure is coming from another mountain.
What a beautiful mistake this day is! Just one big beautiful mistake.
Here's what happened: it was supposed to be the one cloudy day of my stay in Morzine. I thought -- perfect time to do my "in the valley" excursion. Mountains look better against a blue sky! Let me explore the places in and around the valley instead. And I do want to hike or ski the area of "the lake." Both my hotel people and the tourist office raved about it. (I'm equipped with that booklet of walks and Nordic trails and it's right there: "the lake." It has a name, I just can't remember it. And yes, I know how to get there: my hotel passed on a bus schedule.)
So should I ski? I vote no. If you hike, you get to do a larger loop that takes you into a wildlife preserve. Not that you're likely to see much wildlife during the day, but still, one can hope. So hike it is.
And a hearty breakfast to set me off. An omelet today. With tomatoes.
And then I catch the bus. To the lake.
It's not a long ride. That makes sense: I could have actually walked there, but it's 90 minutes by foot and I have an ambitious hike once in the area. So, bus it is. I get off just at the stop I was told to at the hotel. And I am faced with a map, right there, posted on a trail that winds it's way to the left, just like it's supposed to.
I look at the map. Wait, where is the lake?
Where am I??
I study it carefully: I'm certainly not by any large lake whose name I had forgotten. I appear to be near a hiking path that heads up into the mountains. Yes, there is a lake, a tiny one, after a short walk. Not "the lake," described by the booklet. But yes, "the lake" that figures into a larger walk suggested by my hotel. Hence the correct (by them) bus schedule.
Well no matter. Ditch the booklet, look at what's here. So, a hiking trail. Okay, as long as it's traversable, I can follow a path. May as well aim for that little lake.
Oh, but it's pretty here! We are completely away from the ski scene. No lifts, no runs. Just forest, with the occasional chalet. And mountains, everywhere around me, their peaks shoot up to the blue sky.
Did I say blue sky? Amazing but true. The clouds haven't rolled in. It's going to be a very nice morning.
Within a half hour, I come upon a little chalet with a bar restaurant that is just starting to open up. Maybe I could pause for a cup of tea... It's so lovely here, and the sun is gentle this morning, and the wee kids are playing outside...
Okay, let's not get lazy. Ten minutes later, I move on. Through the most majestic looking pines...
And I wonder -- why do I see a handful of skiers coming up this same path? They are climbing it wearing downhill skis. There are no ski runs anywhere. What are they doing?
And dogs. Always the dogs. Must be locals. I only hear French all day long. Of course! Who else would come here? It's not in the tourist booklet!
Ah, the lake. Pretty enough. What next?
(where the stream runs into it...)
I keep following the path. Up, up... I can only walk on well trampled snow. Elsewhere it is deep and my feet sink quickly into it. But so far there is a path. I see snow shoe prints too.
After about an hour in the forest, I come out above the tree line onto a clearing. I see the skiers trudging slowly up ahead. Oh, so that's it!
They are climbing this far up to get to the snowfields on the more distant mountains. They're backcountry skiers. Local people (my guess) who are willing to climb this far to ski away from the lifts, away from the frenzied pace of up and down and up and down. This is something entirely different.
(it's this next mountain that is their destination)
Eventually, as they continue to the left, off trail, or at least there's no trail I can see or follow, I take a trampled path to the right.
To these houses. Shelters. Maybe for livestock during a storm? Empty now. I sit down on a bench, underneath that sign.
At peace. Humbled and grateful. Sun screen slathered on.
I tell Ed later that this day would have been beautiful for him too. A challenge, and quiet. And not a small amount of knowledge to take away from it all. I see that when I finally do turn around, from this point, just above the shacks...
... and head back. Toward that little lake (which, when snow covered, looks like a meadow):
There are display boards all around it and they describe how we come to have the rock formations towering to the side. (A former sea... with marine fossils embedded within.)
And they describe the migration of birds through here each year. And the biodiversity in the forest... All fascinating stuff when it's all before you to see and feel.
They have a flora board up as well, but they don't have on it this very first Alpine flower of spring!
How beautiful May must be here! Though really, it's beautiful even now.
Slowly I make my way down to the bus stop. I check the schedule. Should I wait for the bus or should I walk back? I've been hiking for more than four hours, but I'm not especially tired.
I opt for walking back along the river stream that eventually makes its way into Morzine.
For a while. But I see that the road runs parallel and honestly, this walk is less thrilling after having had that mountain experience. On the next bridge I cross the stream and head up to the road and lo! Here comes the bus! Merci, kind driver for stopping for me! (These buses are free here, so hopping on and off is easy.)
Back in Morzine I stop at the little bistro in the hotel and order a croque monsieur. It's a common sandwich in France, prepared variously. It's always grilled, always with ham and cheese, and sometimes it has sauces, sometimes it does not. This one is fine. Good cheese!
I am a little distracted. I check my email and see that my new credit card has been hacked again, in the same place it was a month ago with the old number. Sigh. A real bother when you're traveling. It's happened before during trips, so I know to take more than one card. Too, these really are not problems but minor inconveniences belonging to a lucky few in this world who have credit cards and who can travel and climb mountains. I do all the necessary paperwork to cancel the card and move on.
And pretty quickly, the clouds do come and it is evening and I am so hungry for dinner! And it is exceptional. No photos for you, not even of the 64 degree egg on a foie gras something with adorning mushrooms and emulsified something. You see my problem: I cant explain them well so best just to say they were great and let it go at that. I do want to add that I discovered a new for me cheese from Haute Savoie - the abondance, which does come from this valley and it is excellent and widely popular here, in the way that for us cheddar or colby may be popular. I tried it, I loved it. Great on a plate with reblechon, which has been a favorite of mine for decades.
But no more food talk. I sit in my room vaguely dozing off, waiting for photos to load (mountains and WiFi signals seem often not to like each other) when I hear bangs and clangs outside. When the world is at war, you don't like the sounds of explosions, so I look out the window to see what the trouble may be.
No trouble. Just fireworks. The ski instructors do this show for those here on French school break: they ski down the same ski run I took a couple of days ago, only in the dark, with torches blazing. When they get down, the fireworks go off. Anything for the kids, right?
I'll leave you with a slate, leaning against the hut on that mountain, with a scribbled verse, partly translated for you.
The mountain is beautiful... a gift that costs nothing... each smile tells a story.
Wishing you a smile, wishing all of us, especially those so deprived of it right now -- peace. And love...
