On the bright side- Alpe d'Huez
- Abi Houghton
- Oct 2, 2020
- 8 min read
Updated: Nov 12, 2020
Not that the approach of the weekend meant that much to a funemployed individual like me, but regardless of that it was now Friyay and I’d made a plan to go and hang out down the mountain with Emily, Malcom and Chloe at a ‘secret’ lake in Bourg de Oisans, the town that lies beneath the 2 mountain resorts of Les Deux Alpes and Alpe d’Huez. Due to covid there were heaps more French staycationers in the mountains than normal and so far it had been hard to find a place that wasn’t busy. But after we’d walked a few kms under the cover of trees we came across the mystical log that marked the spot on the road where we needed to turn towards the water. As of yet we hadn’t even seen the lake, but as we approached it I got a glimpse and it was clear Lac du Buclet was one of the best kept secrets in the southern alps. There was virtually no one there and the water was oddly temperate in comparison to the brisk glacial run off water that fills most of the swim spots in the region, however I still did some pre dip Wim Hoff breathing exercises to prep my warm skin for the shock. I’m such a pussy when it comes to cold water and historically have preferred to avoid it, but this summer I wanted to push myself outside of my normal comfort zones, going back to such wonderfully familiar places, places I’ve grown up in really, wasn’t the fresh adventure I would normally spend my summers pursuing. But it quickly became apparent that despite spending 11 years in the alps, by no way had I ‘completed it’ and there were still new and novel sensations and experiences that lay in wait for me. I’ve also been reading a book about spiritual alchemy that talks in depth about the power and influence of the elements, and that the individual embarking on a quest to enlightenment must first embrace and respectfully master the power of each element on the material plane before they are ready to take the next steps along their spiritual path. I’ve always been a true land mammal, growing up in Birmingham- the most landlocked city in our island nation (and yes it might have as many canals as Venice but it’s best to avoid swimming in them unless you fancy catching bubonic plague) so I didn’t do a lot of swimming outside of the pool and spent much more time playing on bikes and ponies in the surrounding hills. It wasn’t that I was afraid of water, it just didn’t really appeal, especially cold water. However, I had an epic swim in that lake framed by the peaks of my favorite mountains and everything just felt great so I made the commitment to myself to get into every body of water I came across for the rest of the trip and step closer to my newfound goal of becoming more a kin to this particular element.
Indie loving every second of the glorious Lac du Buclet
After a cheeky pique- nique on the side of the lake, a catch up on the last 2 years of gossip I’d missed and a review of ridiculous seasonaire stories that can only be accumulated by a decade of friendship, it was time to head up the famous 21 bends to Alpe d’Huez. This ascent is best known as the climb stage in the Tour de France, Lance Armstrong famously completed it in 37 mins- its 15.5km of steep up round the iconic bends, back in the day I cycled up it for charity having done no training and nursing a mild hangover. My time was 1h 47mins. Nuff said. Today though the trusty van did all the work- although being a van from a rental company in Birmingham I’m pretty sure it was the steepest climb it has ever- or will ever make. We made it into the town in about 20mins, and despite ascending on 4 wheels not 2 we still stopped off at the Indianna bar for a well earned demi. The plan had been hatched earlier in the day to go camping up by the lakes, during the winter they’re frozen over, along with the access roads that lie beneath the snow that makes up the extensive ski area nicknamed ‘L’ile au Soleil’ or island in the sun.
Adulthood has blessed everyone in the ADH clan with a van these days so all we had to do was pack the cool boxes with some ice and the necessary amount of rosé to ensure a good night’s sleep, drive up in time to find a spot to cook up some food and watch the sunset. My friend Katie saved the day by having an impressively well stocked van with everything you could need for an evening outside under the stars, most notably being a corkscrew because otherwise the wine’s participation in the party would have been less significant. Watching the sunset over the mountains, particularly in this area of the Southern Alpes, is nothing short of spectacular! As it sinks down over the horizon the final rays of the setting sun cast a reddish pink glow over the surrounding rock face, even having been blessed to live here for so long it still never ceases to amaze me. The worlds greatest show that happens every single day makes me feel tiny, but somehow significant and part of a universe that inspires and protects those souls who embrace and honor the magnificent, rejuvenating power of the natural world.
Our soirée under the stars
As we retired to our respective vans around 10.30pm (excluding Malcom who had gone to bed at 9pm and subsequently got a full 12 hours sleep) the spot our group had previously just shared with a Belgian couple was now full of other vans whose occupants were keen to escape the town and sleep in the wild just like us. Although we had no designs on keeping our territory just for ourselves, we were well and truly blocked in. I’ve always had the privilege of ‘the curse of the early riser’ so was up about 7am with Emily to take Indy for a walk round the lake in the quiet of the early morning before most people came up to this spot to hike and bike and soak up the views. At this stage I just want to add a disclaimer that although there was a lake which is technically a body of water and I should hence have taken a swim at this point if we’re keeping track of my previous commitment, Emily assured me people don’t swim in this lake because there’s something that lurks beneath the water like weeds (we weren’t exactly sure), and there is a clear sign up that warns you against taking a dip.
Malcolm emerging after his full 12 hour sleep, who said van life wasn't restful?
I went back into town to my friend’s apartment and started cracking on with my rapidly accumulating laundry pile- during van life you don’t want to get to the stage where your pile grows too much because you’re never sure when the next opportunity will arise, plus your laundry bag is closer to your sleeping face than it would be in your regular home. We were having a big dinner party that evening to line our stomachs before we headed out and as I was the only one not working I offered to cater. I’m well versed in the art of minimal effort, maximum numbers vibe of cooking, and I found all the ingredients I needed to make a vegan Bolognese in the slow cooker, there’s always heaps of tins of lentils left over from the chalet winter stocks, so people who stay on for the summer gradually work through the left overs. Mountain folk are used to these kinds of tricks, no one wants to be slaving over a stove when you could be relishing the outdoors so slow cookers are an integral part of the average kitchen and most people live off these culinary creations for a few days at a time.
Having taken care of dinner I met up with Katie and we took the opportunity to go for a stroll through town buying the bare necessities like wax strips and sun cream and having a bloody good catch up along the way. We went all the way through town in the end and carried on past the Altiport lost in conversation about spiritual awakening, exercise regimes, vegan food, the weird things ex boyfriends do and all the other topics you’d expect from a long overdue girly catch up. This of course culminated in a couple of glasses of rosé on the terrace of the Altiport resto watching the rescue helicopters and light aircraft coming into land.
Very quickly it was time to go back and get showered ready for dinner and our night out on the town- our friend bandana Dave (he got that name because he always wears a bandana) was playing in one of the bars and everyone was going. During the summer there aren’t as many ‘big nights out’ as winter, so when an event is planned the whole community goes to support. Dinner went down well, but as usual I didn’t get the potency of the homemade garlic bread quite right and it kicked up quite a stink. The neighbor knocked on the door to inform us he was in fact allergic to garlic (not a known allergen, and especially not in France- the spiritual home of the garlic clove..) and can we let him know next time we intended to use such a large amount of garlic in future because he could go into anaphylactic shock due to the fumes. I’m sorry, I know many people suffer with horrific, life threatening reactions to allergens however what he was claiming I was pretty sure was a figment of his imagination. Regardless of his little visitation we were ready to go out so en masse we went up to 8 bar to have a few jars and enjoy some tunes.
The band in full swing, although you can't see Bandana Dave's head because of the lighting UFO, but I can assure you- he's wearing a bandana
As always with the ‘quiet nights’ it ended up being rather larger than we had expected, but it was so nice to see everyone and listen to some live music- it had been months since I’d seen anyone play live because of the Covid sitch! We had a boogey with old friends, and made some new ones, sank way too many genepi’s- just like old times. Not sure when the decision was made to go back to the apartment for an after party but that’s what happened, likely when the bar closed, and everyone duly filtered out back to where the evening had begun. Perhaps it got a little out of hand, I’m confident it would have been pretty noisy- but nothing outside of the usual decibels for the average apartment block on a Saturday night. However, the neighbor with the garlic allergy came around again, this time topless, threateningly baring his naked chest and angrily banging on the door telling us he was about to call the police to break up our party. This really wasn’t necessary we assured him, we were all adults and off to bed shortly, a friend at the party had also found a stray dog wandering about the building and presented it as a peace offering to the enraged half naked French man. This did nothing to placate him and only seemed to make the situation worse, not that we were worried about the police showing up because one of the attendees maintains a close relationship with the local constabulary and had sent a what’s app to advise them to stay in bed.
That aside the night was over, and the group dispersed.
Wild nights with old friends and new...
That night I also had the privilege to catch up with my old friend Niff who has been a pillar of the ADH community as long as I can remember. Despite not having seen him for a couple of years, we still had plenty of memories to share and stories to laugh over. Between that night and the time of writing this, Niff tragically passed away. Like Ali in LDA he was a constant figure in his alpine home, a true mountain man and a legend. His death has left a massive hole in the ADH family and he’ll be truly missed. It’s times like these when you have to take a step back and realise how blessed you are to wake up every day and keep on keeping on.
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