Towards the high stuff

Albertville marks the start of my last week. It just remains to climb up again, skirt around to the south of Mt Blanc and drop down to Courmayeur. I'm joined by Richard, recently returned from cycling down the Rhine (google 'Rhine Cycle Challenge' - in aid of a good cause). Can't wait for the salsa in Albertville - we've got to get up the valley that leads into the area known as the Beaufortain. 

We climb up a shoulder which gives views back to Albertville and the Massif des Bauges through which I have just come. And in the distance on the left to the Massif de la Chartreuse beyond Chambéry. 

More butterflies including this large fritillary that I just can't identify - a Queen of Spain perhaps - and a Black-Veined White, a butterfly my father had always hoped to see and which probably became extinct in England in his childhood. 

We stay in a refuge with a stunning view up the valley north-east to Mt Blanc. 

And also back to the north-west. 

Down into the valley the next day. Farms, hamlets, and a fountain - unusually labelled as drinking water. 

And then to Beaufort, the small town of about two thousand that gives its name to the area. The old gendarmerie opposite our hotel. The name presumably dates to 1860-70, after the final integration of Savoy into France and before the fall of Napoleon III. 

It's my last town or village in France and it's Bastille Day. A band plays on the church steps beneath our hotel window. We take it as a send off!

Mountain days

It needed two more long but beautiful days to get to Albertville. I climbed from Aillon to a 1700m pass and on the way got my first view of higher peaks with permanent snows to the south-east of the Massif des Bauges.

The high meadows are full of flowers and butterflies - numerous Mountain Ringlets confirming the sighting in Les Monts de la Madeleine as well as many smaller ones I don't know and that too elusive to photograph. And cows. As I descended from the pass I came across this little mobile four-cow milking parlour at about 1300m, the herd nearby all with their bells clanging away. The milk might go for the excellent Tome des Bauges cheese I am eating, made in Aillon.

Down to École. The roofs are all slate again now with some huge eaves to protect against winter snow I presume. 

The next day's goal is the pass which is a nick in the ridge in the middle distance of this photo. 

There's an evening fête in tiny École with food and fireworks. But alas I need to do some more miles if I am to get to Albertville on the morrow. So it's on up the valley towards the pass and a lovely campsite. The rocks prove a hard mattress but the sound all night of the river is ample compensation together with the stars. 

The view at 7am the next morning of the ridge to the south-east above the river. 

And another to the north just before I get to the top a couple of hours later. 

And from the top, a first view of Mont Blanc to the north-east that takes my breath away. Italy lies on the other side..

And another on the long steep way down to the heat of Albertville, from beneath the plum tree where I stop for lunch and a snooze. 

Into the mountains again

The next target is Albertville. The easy way from Chambéry would be to follow the valley down and round - along with the autoroute, the railway etc. I decide instead to go through the mountains, the Massif des Bauges, shown in this map. It will need three days, with a stop at Aillon-le-Jeune - where I am the only person in the little self-service walkers' hostel run by the commune - and then somewhere near Jarsy beneath the stars (everything is booked on the first weekend of the main French holiday season).

The view down to Chambéry late morning.  

I've forgotten what it is like to climb 1200 or so metres with a full rucksack, loaded with food - 20 miles a day in the plains with 35 degrees suddenly seems easy by comparison! Lungs are gasping.. But at last I make it to the col and this is the view back, the heat haze having built in the time taken to get here. As ever, the endorphins kick in with the view and it all seems worth the effort. And the cool mountain air is beautifully refreshing. 

And then down to Aillon-le-Jeune. 

Over a ridge to a lake and a town

The route is now east into the mountains - to Chambéry. This means leaving the Rhône and getting across the Mont du Chat. Here's the view from Yenne of the top of the ridge, about 1500m high, at the end of another blistering hot afternoon. 

But I sneak over the col just out of view to the north, involving a much more modest climb, accompanied by Patrick and Judy, on their way home to Brittany. Left to their own devices, they would surely have gone over the top! And on the other side is France's largest natural lake, Lac du Bourget, with Aix-les-Bains beyond. Note the delicious cool grey cloud - I even put a jersey on later in the evening. Aah...

And so to Chambéry at the southern end of the lake where Patrick and Judy proceed on their way. 

Were this the first half of the 19th century my walking would have been over too - I would have left French soil. This part of Savoy was only definitively incorporated into France in 1860, the last Duke becoming the first King of the newly unified Italy. (Suitably, Chambéry is twinned with Turin.) As it is, the Massif des Bauges lies ahead, running up to about 2,000m, and higher stuff yet after that. 

But for the moment a rest day and Chambéry is a good place to spend it. The centre of town has a relaxed feel to the idle visitor. Fine tall buildings with shuttered windows and the mountains often seen at the end of a street. The red flag with a cross is the Savoy flag, everywhere in evidence. 

Along the Rhône

I met the Rhône at Lagnieu. Here it turns and flows towards Lyon after its zigzag northwest following its descent from Lake Geneva. The map shows the cycle path which differs in places but the sense of the river's course is conveyed well. 

Suddenly the Alps seem very close - the ridges and cliffs to the east of the river shout 'high ground'. 

I walk along the river for the best part of two days. There is always something to look at. A chateau in a still stretch in the early morning. 

A power station. 

One way of getting rid of your car.. 

They knew a hot day was coming!

The farmers watering the maize - the great drum of hose very slowly winds in, almost imperceptibly, pulling the spray on its wheels. 

And a Scarce Swallowtail (called a 'Flambé' in French) which we used to have many of in Italy. Zebra-striped wings, an almost triangular shape, and the tails sticking out the back. 'Scarce' as very unlikely to be seen in England. 

Across the plain

To the east of the Saône, northeast of Lyon, is a wide flat plain called La Dombes full of little lakes. The lakes are largely man-made, many dating from the Midde Ages, dug to create a fishing industry. They are also a paradise for birds. 

It would be nice to recount the joys of moving slowly through this area of water and wildlife. But it is difficult to report other than a long, hot slog, with the green lakes surprisingly uninviting. This road sign outside St Marcel en Dombes twisted the knife. Fat chance of ice on the road with afternoon temperatures pushing 40..

Nearby Villars-les-Dombes is a thriving little town. Commuters poured off the late afternoon train from Lyon, 40 minutes away. No shortage of boulangeries here - we counted at least four. And a very nicely restored church, mixing romanesque and gothic. 

Here Riccardo left me to join his family coming from Italy. Alas he missed the better of the two days needed to cross the plain. The second day produced a reasonable amount of shade and more tracks and footpaths than tarmac. 

I passed the beautiful little 13th century Chateau Montellier. 

It's been in the same family since the Revolution and the name on postbox had a certain style, above the usual request for no junk mail. 

More wine and another river

Coming down from the hills in the late afternoon there are vines, vines and more vines. We come smack through the middle of the main Beaujolais area, shown in yellow in the bottom half of this map, reaching the river Saone at Anse.

Here's an early view, emerging from the woods. It all seems achingly beautiful. 

Most grapes are destined for red Beaujolais. But as one grower comments to us - not necessarily approvingly - rosé is much à la mode now.. 

Here is another vigneron pruning the growth off his vines to let the sun get at the fruit, a job I had naively assumed was still done by hand. 

After a long day we reached the nicely named village of Oingt. Restaurants, a pottery shop, an art gallery - in the next door village there is a coach load of American students - but no boulangerie for the locals. The buildings use a beautiful golden coloured stone - pierre dorée. 

Pierre dorée has attracted international attention, which will help the restaurants and galleries. It seems a very long way from the villages of the poor Auvergne a week ago. 

And so to Anse and a first sight across yet more vines of the mighty Saone. The Saone joins the Rhône just south of here at Lyon and in the past was a critical part of the large north-south river trade.