A Taste of the Alps

When my husband and I decided to get married he said, “Why don’t we get married in this little village north of Annecy?” I had never even heard of Annecy, much less the little village of Allonzier-la-Caille. I got out a map of France and found it in the eastern part of the country, near the French Alps. When I finally got to see Annecy first-hand, I wasn’t prepared for its beauty. It is situated around a stunning lake and has a charming old city full of beautiful buildings and an old prison around which a stream splits and flowers spill out of containers on every corner. This, I knew, was to be the beginning of my love affair with the French Alps. I have since been into the French Alps to a town called Bourg St Maurice.   I assume Bourg is where the English word “berg” comes from, as in a very small town. I liked Bourg St Maurice with it’s own little old town lined with cobbled streets. The city is in the center of the Haute-Tarentaise region and is the starting point for an entry into Italy up and over a mountain pass, or the way up to a ski resort called Les Arcs. My husband and I have skied at Les Arcs, and it’s huge with runs all over the mountain. In the summer, I’ve seen people taking off the side of mountains on hang gliders, and there is excellent hiking. We trekked over a mountain trail, through fields of lavender flowers, to a little Russian-looking chapel at the top of a mountain built sometime in the 1800s. I wondered what inspired someone to want to build in such an inaccessible place, and how hard it must have been to get everything up there. We found a great restaurant in Bourg St. Maurice called Restaurant La Tartiflette. It’s a wonderful place to try the food from the Savoie region such as Tartiflette, a dish made with potatoes, bacon, onion, and the local Reblochon cheese , or Diot, a local pork sausage with Crozets a Savoie pasta. Try the Vin de Savoie, such as Apremont, as well as one of the killer desserts, like the ice cream dish called Vertigo or Diablo. (Just don’t plan any strenuous activity afterwards, as this is not food for the diet conscious!) Be sure to say hello to the very friendly, and entertaining owner of ten years, Rene Bignon. While we were in this area one summer we did several driving trips to explore the many little villages. All of the drives involved hairpin curves, and there was seldom a time I didn’t get a little car sick. One day we went across the border into a little Italian town for lunch. We crossed a pass called Col du Petit St Bernard where a good deal of fighting took place during World War II and there is a statue of St. Bernard de Menthon standing at the top. Another day we headed off for a little town called Bonneval-sur-Arc. It lies south of Mount Blanc and to get there we had to go over a pass called Col de l’Iseran, the highest pass in the Alps. There are areas here where the snow never melts. When we started out it was a sunny day, but as we got higher we entered thick fog and had to creep along, almost deciding to turn around. We finally got above the clouds and as we reached the summit, it started snowing (this was only August!). Then we descended the mountain, going again through fog and finally entering the area of Bonnelval-sur-Arc, which sits in the valley of the Arc surrounded by high peaks. It is a little town left totally untouched by development, with no satellite dishes or phone or electrical wires in sight. The tourists are all put up at a nearby village, and no cars are allowed. The buildings are all built of rough granite blocks, and the roofs are covered in slabs of stone. It all has such an ancient feel. It rained the whole time we were there, and it was cold so we went into a little restaurant and had some hot tea and a lunch of salad and local cheese and sausage to get warmed up. Coming out, we passed some hikers dressed in shorts and looking, to my unseasoned eyes, very wet and miserable. The whole area is covered in hiking trails that are used a lot during the summer months. I could see ski lifts for winter skiing. My husband’s uncle had told us to be sure to do the drive to Beaufort, as it was especially beautiful, and he was certainly right. After many a hairpin curve, we entered a little valley where one of the most beautiful lakes I have ever seen sat—Roseland Lake. It was a milky turquoise color sitting in the sun. I have since read that it is manmade and covers an old village, but it is still breathtaking when first viewed. As we drove along we could see a glacier in the distance, and we passed cows everywhere eating grass that eventually becomes the famous Beaufort cheese. The charming town of Beaufort has a stream running through the center and flowers everywhere—and, of course, a picturesque church. What’s a wonderful thought to me is that we have barely scratched the surface of all there is to see in the French Alps. I am not much of a hiker, but I am inspired to become fit enough to start taking hikes around this beautiful area. Hiking is very popular in Europe, and now I know why. Restaurant La Tartiflette 29, avenue del la Gare BourgSt. Maurice 04-79-07-07-94 Copyright © Paris New Media, LLC Bonjour Paris is pleased to have Linda Mathieu as a contributor.