This was not the best timing, having unexpectedly spent the national debt of Tuvalu on a kitchen refurbishment. In fact I was feeling very poor, absolutely not the time to be visiting one of the priciest countries in Europe, but here we were. Eagle eyed Mark had spotted Sleazyjet return flights for sixty quid a piece a few months ago, not to be sniffed at. Even after we’d paid our Tall Tax and for a hold bag between us, less than a hundred quid a head return for a weekend somewhere I’d never been seemed a steal.
Unfortunately, in the few days leading up to departure it became increasingly clear that we’d probably stumbled across the wrong weekend. Them’s the breaks! Shoehorning this tightly around shifts did, however, mean that I had come off a night shift the previous day, so in the manner of a seasoned and utterly broken long term shift worker I had a marvellous early sleep, leaving me considerably more awake than himself for the 3am drive to the airport.
EasyJet did us proud with an on time arrival to Geneva airport. The beauty of taking excoriatingly early flights is that you pitch up at 9am, a whole day stretching ahead.
Sixt also did us a real solid, with our bargain 100 quid 4 day “Golf or similar” rental turning into a free upgrade of a spicy little A-Class on winter tyres.
Naturally I had that first fun drive out of the needlessly tight airport car park trying to avoid dinging anything. We set out towards Lake Geneva with no particular plan in mind other than coffee and cake, these being our first introduction to enthusiastic Swiss pricing at a mere 20 quid, instilling a strong desire to just get into France already.
And there began a pleasant but somewhat elderly day, driving round the lake and stopping occasionally for wanders and explores. Driving right the way round the lake turned out to be a somewhat stupid route decision, this was a very long way and we weren’t really set up for a long distance drive on this little sleep, not to mention the constant and randomly changing speed limits.
Geneva and surrounds were undeniably beautiful, but after a somewhat negative car park/alloy wheel interaction we just wanted to get to the campsite, however now we were the wrong side of a really big lake.
Even in my now somewhat compromised state though, we were delighted as we crossed the French border to stop for a cafe au lait and to be immediately greeted with French people doing French things and playing boule. Bof!
Our route continued onto some great autoroute although it was at this point I really did have to call it with the driving, pulling into an Aire for an…exactly…20 minute nap which worked incredibly well. On we pushed, to the shores of Lake Annecy.
Our home for the weekend was a Super Premium or similar class caravan on the L’ideal campsite, part of Eurocamps. Again, this turned into an unexpectedly cracking deal as our initial booking on Les Fontaines campsite, in a basic caravan, had to be moved due to staffing issues, therefore the 160 quid for 3 nights turned out an even better deal than first thought. Webster even had his own room and a free beach ball. 🌎
Upon arrival we were greeted by the super enthusiastic Dutch couple running the place for the summer, and got settled in to a Lidl-acquired dinner. (Kitchen poor see? )
The next day turned out several degrees of magnitude better in the weather department than expected, so led to a pleasant morning walk around the outskirts of Duingt followed by a lunch in the sun, only slightly marred by an incredibly annoying couple on the adjoining table who, and I kid you not, changed positions at leat 20 times to get the best possible footage for the ‘Gram.
The afternoon took us further into the hills in search of authentic Alpine experiences, and we didn’t have to wait for long. Parking up in La Clusaz, the inimitable clanking of cowbells as a giant herd made its way through the car park, where our expensive and high excess hire car was sitting…eeeeek
Thankfully, no cows nor Mercedeses were harmed in the making of this blog. Whilst picturesque, these ski resorts are pretty dead out of season so we made the hell out of Dodge… however on the way out of town stumbled across an Alpine Coaster. This was a cannot avoid type of thing.
My first trip down was a somewhat pedestrian affair so I made sure to reload the card and take another death-or-glory run which fared far better. I couldn’t quite escape the fear that actually it was possible to leave the track and fly into the scenery, no matter how many times I was reassured that yes, they are fixed to raíls. If you can’t trust the Swiss, who can you trust?
I further indulged my Alpine Coaster whims on the nice little run up the Col de Forclaz, unfortunately popular with a lot of cyclists, however also with some absolutely cracking open hairpins, fun in a warm hatch but maybe more fun in some of the classic Porsches being banged around the mountains by those Swiss bankers who you hear about when companies try to sell you more public liability insurance.
The lower parts of the road were far less fun and a bit of a pain, with endless and interminable bends and a road slightly narrower than you’d want with plenty of concrete features waiting to ruin your day.
Back to the site then. Lidl dinner again, with a beautiful Alpine sunset.
The next day began at a relaxed pace, and the weather had turned somewhat gloomy. Our day therefore turned into a typical day of ADHDers, namely the “because it’s there” kind of whim, spotting that Italy was only a couple of hours away through the Mont Blanc tunnel, and because tunnels are cool, right?
We paid our somewhat steep 70Eur return ticket at the tunnel and set off to Italy. Whilst this is a major route, the end stages are surprisingly twisty, with trucks puffing up the inclines. The tunnel itself is very regimented to avoid people crashing, which in a 7 mile tunnel under a mountain range, is reasonably considered a very bad thing.
It was very gratifying to find out that the weather on the Italian side was significantly better. Bright sunshine and warmer than France. That is what crossing mountain ranges does for you. Courmayeur was a nice little town although again, clearly its best days are in the skiing season so it was a long wander until we found a restaurant open for pizza and Tiramisu. I mean, what else would you eat here?!
We hastened home, mindful, although absolutely fine on time, of the 7pm closure of the tunnel for maintenance. There are detours, and there are crossing the Alps detours, so that we did not want to miss. A quick stop on the other side of the tunnel though to see the waterfall and beautiful hiking trails.
Our final day was here, albeit with a very civilised 5pm flight home, so we set out to explore more of Lake Annecy’s surrounds, with a beautiful wander on the shore and a welcome coffee stop with a troupe of tiny bird friends, much to Mark’s disdain, no matter how many times I pointed out they were little dudes and wouldn’t peck his eyes out.
Our final stop of the trip was in Annecy itself, a beautiful town where we managed an Australian brunch. Since we had parked more than a little out of the centre and I was starting to enter irrational panic waiting mode, despite us having a fair chunk of time, beggars could not be choosers.
Back then to Geneva airport, a sigh of relief at the rental car check-in and another timely flight. All in all this was a pretty good value weekend, in this area we would have spent hundreds more on hotels, so having a base to cook at least one meal a day and for breakfast was a real money saver.
I was staggered to get home around 8pm for work the next morning, thankfully bucking the trend of some of my recent ridiculous late arrivals and therefore having to turn up at work with 1.5hrs sleep under my belt.
Great success!
loquitohermoso 
Leave a comment