As you can imagine, after 10 days of isolation, (going no further than the letter box and the rubbish bin), I was itching to get out for a long walk and, I have to say, it felt great to be ‘free’ again. The forecast was for brilliant blue skies and warm sunshine, so yesterday I chose to head for the Pointe du Tsaté at 3,077m or 10,095 ft.
Jude thought I was mad, because there was still quite a lot of snow on the mountain tops. But it didn’t look that deep and the route I would be taking was on a south facing slope.
After passing the Remointse du Tsaté lake at 2,500m, or 8,200ft, there was a mixture of snow (no more than 2 inches deep) and bare ground on the path for another 3 hundred metres (1,000 feet) or so of climbing. But as I reached the ridge to the summit I was faced with a 2 to 3 foot wall of snow, where the wind from the north had built it up. (Picture 29 doesn’t really do it justice). I admit that I had second thoughts at this point, but I was so close to the summit, I decided to go for it. And I was glad that I did, as I was rewarded with magnificent panoramic views in all directions.
The beautifully stacked stones at the summit also helped me to set up my camera for the selfie in picture 35. 😊
My apologies for so many photos, but I hope you will agree that it was quite an adventure which ought to be shared! (Picture 1 btw was taken from the bus on the way to La Forclaz. (It just shows how clean the Swiss bus windows are!) However, I just missed one on the way back, so I decided to walk the 4 km/2.5 miles back home to Evolène. Luckily it was all downhill!)
For some time I’ve thought about describing some of the ‘nuances’ of an expat living in Switzerland, but never quite got around to it. (It’s amazing what self-isolation can do to you!*) So here is the first in a series, which may run and run, depending upon what life here throws at me (and Jude) during the year. I hope you will find it interesting, or at least a little different to life wherever you may be. 😊
Regular readers may recall that we live in a small village, called Evolène, which lies at almost 1,400m or 4,600ft in the Val d’Hérens in the southern part of Switzerland. We describe it as authentic, as the traditions that have gone on for eons are still continuing today. In particular the Val d’Hérens breed of cow is almost revered around here (quite rightly of course), due to its uniqueness.
There are several small farms in and around the 6 villages at the top of the valley (the other 5 are Les Haudères, Villa, La Sage, La Forclaz and Arolla) and each farmer has only around 8 to 12 cows. (This compares with about 100 per typical farm in the UK). In the winter, since we’re under 1 to 2 feet of snow for most of the time, the cows are kept in their sheds until the Spring/early Summer.
Sometime in June, when there’s a spell of good dry weather, the farmers will come to cut the grass in the fields. The whole of the Commune is divided up into hundreds of small plots, each legally owned by different people, but it seems each farmer ‘owns’ the right to cut the grass on many different plots. Rather curiously, these plots are not always adjacent to each other, so it can lead to a sort of patchwork of cut/not cut grass. (See pic 6 below).
Every year, 2 ladies come with their grass cutter, go through our small field and cut the grass in the 4 plots below. The total size of these 4 plots is only about 20 yards by 70 yards (max). So it’s farming on a small scale by anyone’s standards. How many plots these 2 ladies cut altogether, is a mystery. When these ladies came the very first time, just after we’d moved in, we thought we must have upset the locals as they disappeared without touching our grass. We needn’t have worried as our plot is used by another famer…
Almost exactly 2 weeks later, Johan, the farmer who lives just below us, comes to cut the grass in our field and many of the other plots around and about the neighbouring chalets. The grass is then left for a day, before being turned or tossed around by a sort of spinning machine (and/or by hand) and a day later it’s ‘rowed up’ to be scooped up into the back of a truck. Every little blade of useful hay is gathered up by 2, sometimes 3, helpers raking into line any stray bits which have escaped or were not rowed correctly. Below are a few pictures of the machines and farmers in action on various plots in the valley.
At the end of June, once the snow has disappeared from what’s known as the ‘alpage’ (i.e. that area of lush meadow between the higher villages and the rocky mountain tops), the cows are all taken up to graze for the summer. This is known locally as the Inalp or transhumance, which I joined in with once and blogged about here.
At the end of September, all the cows are brought back down to their respective farms to get ready for the winter again. However, there are often several days of glorious sunshine to be had. So the farmers, Johan again in this case, places an electric wire or fence around the fields he uses and then brings the cows up for the day – usually around 10am. (The sun has reached the fields by then). Around 4pm, he, or someone from his family, then leads them back to the sheds.
All of this brings me neatly to this video of the cows arriving for the day and crossing our small field. (I would call it a garden but we enjoy the cows coming so much, we have resisted the temptation to ‘do something with it’ and have left it in the capable hands of the farmer to use. 😊
*Footnote: Our 10 day isolation period ends today (though I understand the UK has now been taken off the Swiss ‘red list’!) Glorious weather is forecast for the next few days, so ‘normal service’ will resume tomorrow… 🤗🎆👍
Jude and I are now back home and, thankfully, over half way through our self-isolation period of 10 days. There are, of course, worse places to be holed up, but I’m feeling a bit like a caged tiger, wanting to get out and about, especially while the sun is shining and there’s not so much snow on the ground. (I’d estimate the snow line to be at around the 2,500m or 8,000ft mark).
I’ve kept myself busy by posting some of our good friend Arthur’s paintings of his time in the Comores. Click here for two examples, with 4 more to come over the next 4 days.
But, with nowhere to go and wanting to post something on this site, I decided to take a few pictures from both within and around the chalet.
The weather wasn’t particularly kind while we were staying in the Peak District, but I did manage to get out for another, longish walk, starting in Ashbourne and finishing at our cottage in Alstonefield. Although “The Dales” is generally taken to mean the Yorkshire Dales, there are far more Dales in the Peak District. This walk alone took in Lin Dale, Dove Dale and Hall Dale.
As I approached Mapleton (pronounced as in M’apple’ton btw), I met up with 2 gentleman and a dog, who were also walking to Ilam. I forget their names now (and my apologies to them if they are now reading this), but we had a very nice chat as we strolled along.
After bidding them farewell, (as they went for a cuppa in the café at Ilam Hall), I turned east to take in a small hill, called Thorpe Cloud (@287m or 942ft). On a fine day, I’m sure the views are wonderful. From there, I descended into Lin Dale before heading north along Dove Dale and up Hall Dale to the Watts-Russell Arms (for a more interesting refreshment. 😊)
After our two weeks of ‘self-isolation’ in North Wales, Jude and I decamped across to another cottage in Alstonefield, in the Peak District National Park. There we met up with various members of our family, including my daughter, Sarah and her husband, Karl. Although the weather was a bit gloomy, we set off to do a walk to the nearby village of Hartington, following the beautiful River Dove.
The Peak District is generally considered to be (and is mostly) in Derbyshire, but I’ve just read that the River Dove forms the border between it and Staffordshire. So, as we went back and forth across the various bridges (see below), we were (unknowingly in my case) skipping between the two counties.
It’s also Sarah’s birthday today, so it’s perhaps appropriate that I should post some pictures of her. HAPPY BIRTHDAY Sarah! 🎂💐🥂😊
For our last ‘day out’ in North Wales, Jude and I took a drive around to the Llŷn Peninsula. After parking up further down the coast, we walked around the coastal path to Porthor, or Whistling Sands as it’s often known. From there we called in at tiny Porth Colmon which, as you will see from my series of photos, is still used as place for launching or, as in this case, landing fishing boats. And then finally we drove to the small coastal resort of Aberdaron, where I somehow managed to get a shot of an apparently deserted beach, despite there being quite a few people around.
Most people who visit the Snowdonia National Park will head for the northern part and the mountain of Snowdon itself, but there are some fine walks towards the south, around what are known locally as the Rhinogs. This gallery covers the route from Cwm Bychan (pronounced ‘coom bukan’ btw) to the summit of Rhinog Fawr. At 720m, or 2,630ft, it’s not a big mountain, but it’s quite a tough ascent due to the very rocky paths.
It was not for nothing that (now Sir) Tom Jones sang about the Green, Green Grass of Home. Wales can be a very wet place (as you may have gathered from all the moss and lush looking fields in my previous post). So, as if to prove I’m not just a fair weather walker, here are few pictures, mainly of the Mawddach Trail (a former railway line) from Penmaenpool to Barmouth.
Just a mile or so away from our holiday cottage, there’s a series of waterfalls. The countryside is so green and vibrant and completely different to back home (and possibly where you might live), I thought it was worth posting a few photos…