Numb on the Route des Grandes Alpes
Zagan the motorhome has mountains out of his widescreen windscreen, we parked at the aire in Les Saisies Ski Resort (N45.76203, E6.53371) on the Route des Grandes Alpes, but the beauty is a bit lost on us at the moment. We’ve already said that we’ll have to revisit this area another time.
After those very difficult days in Bourg Saint Maurice when Charlie was struggling, we had to leave the morning after he was put to sleep. There were too many memories on the campsite, not that he ventured more than five metres from our pitch the whole time we were there, but we kept expecting to look out and see him.
While on the campsite, we’d met David and Carrie who are legends in the world of rock climbing, they write loads of books about where to climb and were in the middle of researching one while they were there. As we were leaving they kindly suggested somewhere to go, and when you get a recommendation from someone who knows the area so well, you take it. Thankfully our route didn’t take us past the vets, but as we set off out of the valley our eyes filled with tears as we were leaving Charlie behind. I can’t recall how many times I said goodbye to him as I desperately tried to capture a photo of the town where he would always remain.
We followed the Route des Grandes Alpes to Les Chapieux (N45.69526, E6.73408) and found ourselves at the end of the Torrent des Glaciers. At the end of the road a sign said no camping as the area was prone to flooding. We could have guessed that from the name, but there were about 30 motorhomes scattered around the valley floor parking area, so we joined them. There was no phone signal or internet connection anywhere in the valley, which was just what we needed. Beautiful messages of condolence had been pouring in, and in time we’ll re-read them and fully appreciate them, but at that moment they just reminded us of what we had lost.
Motorhome parking at Les Chapieux on the Route des Grandes Alpes
Parking up we went for a short walk around the few buildings that were Les Chapieux and then retreated back to Zagan. As we opened the door we both expected to hear a bark welcoming us, none came, but tears did. In truth we weren’t sure what to do with ourselves. Charlie was so ingrained in our lives, especially over the last month or so when he was really poorly, that all our time and attention had been on him. The last time we had left him alone was over two weeks ago and that was only for a couple of hours while we had a meal out as an early birthday celebration for Jay. We were in a beautiful place with amazing walks on our doorstep, so Jay suggested we walk up the valley. With a feeling of guilt we both left, locking Zagan and putting the alarm on, something we haven’t done on this trip.
Over a few hours we walked, we talked, and sobbed occasionally. Holding hands we realised how far apart we had become over these past months and the healing process began. We crossed over water flowing down the hillside and I picked up a few stones and stacked them on a nearby rock. Charlie loved to rescue stones from the sea on the beach, so I felt this was a fitting tribute to him in a most beautiful place.
We ventured out a couple of other times while we were there because, like baby birds testing out their wings, we need to get used to this new found freedom. Jay completed another training run back along the road we’d walked the following morning, with his charity race less than a week away he is now easing off on the distances he is doing. I am so proud of how he has kept up his training through everything we’ve been through – he tells me that the running his helping to keep him sane, but I know it has been hard.
Dotted across the hillsides around us were two types of cows – La Tarine (the brown ones) and L’Abondance (the brown ones with white faces) – which are used to make Beaufort cheese. We’d seen it advertised in several places, the town of Beaufort was just up the road, and we both wanted a mobile signal to speak to our families, so we set off after Jay’s run. The drive took us past a huge turquoise lake and around what seemed like a million hairpin bends.
Les Chapieux motorhome parking area in the valley and Glacier des Glaciers further up the valley which was covered in cloud on our walk
La Tarine cows
A mobile milking machine!
Luckily Jay drove superbly so I didn’t have to jump out at any of the tight spots
Arriving in Beaufort we opted for a small parking area next to the river (N45.71968, E6.56971), and while it was free, they still ask you to pay the Tourist Tax if you are staying the night. So armed with a completed form and 0.50c (it’s €0.22 each but we didn’t have the right change) we set off for the tourist office and to have a look around the town.
The temperature was in the low 30’s, but we no longer have to worry about seeking shade to keep Charlie cool, so in another test of our baby bird wings, we decided to stay for a couple of days. In the centre of the town is the Beaufort Co-Operative where they make the cheese. Small lorries with shining tanks on the back drive in and out all day, collecting the milk from the 170 farms in the co-operative.
Beaufort is gearing up for the Tour de France which will come through here on the 18th July
Even ‘Beaufort man’ in a large cheese is getting in the spirit of things
Inside the cooperative there is an exhibition area telling you all about how they make the cheese which you can visit for free. You can also pay €2 to go around the factory, but we weren’t in the mood, and having already been around the Pag cheese factory in Croatia we didn’t feel like we were missing out. Instead we stood looking through the glass wall down into the factory and watched transfixed as the huge Meules of cheese were covered in cloth, turned and stacked. Each Meule takes around 400 litres of milk to make and weighs 40 kilos so no wonder they had a machine to do the turning and stacking.
As with all good free places to look around, you leave via the shop where we got to taste all the types of Beaufort, and a few others, before plumping for a €6 slice of our favourite. As the wheels of cheese they make are so over 50cm in diameter, the slices are big and usually cost way more than that. Don’t worry if you find yourself in Beaufort and the factory and shop are shut, outside they have a vending machine full of the stuff with prices ranging from €10 to €40, all accompanied by the strong smell of a mature cheese.
Last night there was one super bright star in the sky just after the sun set, I know it was the planet Venus, I looked it up, but somehow to me it felt like was Charlie telling me that he’s OK and at peace now. I may sound crazy to those of you who have never lost a pet, but setting off this morning, the feeling that we were getting further away from Charlie was a bit less than it was last time we moved, and I guess it will be less again when we move tomorrow.
We had planned to head across closer to Chamonix today, but as we drove past the motorhomes parked up at Les Saisies we decided to stop. We paid our €8 for 24 hours stretched those wings again with a walk up to a nearby col. We sat on a bench in the sunshine and stared out over the ‘big’ mountains in the distance, all snow capped and looking like they are a painted on back drop.
Returning to the van it wasn’t until I was putting a packet in the bin that I realised I hadn’t expected Charlie to be here when we returned. A wave of guilt consumed me, it’s only been four days and already I am starting to forget him. Fortunately while Jay was writing his beautiful eulogy to our little man, I wrote a list of all the things I miss about him – it’s currently around nine pages long, but at least I know I won’t forget all those little things I took for granted every day.
So that’s it, my first blog post without Charlie – although he does feature rather heavily, sorry about that. I kept putting off writing it as I don’t want to move on without him, but I know we need to. We need to form a new way of life, stretch our wings, establish new routines and at some point make new plans. What those plans will be, we have no idea, but we’ll let you know as soon as we do.
Ju x
Tears in my eyes as I read this & good to see you beginning to get used to the loss of Charlie.
I remember when daughter Susan said when are we going to see a new lucky dog coming into our family? We had done everything possible for Rosie just as you have for Charlie. You will know when the time is right for you. Best, Roger.
It takes time, but honestly it does get easier. I remember so clearly that feeling that nowhere felt right…the house, the van, walking without a dog. These days (6 years on) I still miss the 2 I lost then and still well up when I think of them….but I can laugh at our exploits. Charlie will be forever in your hearts and he will be there with you on every trip. Give yourselves time and try to enjoy your travels…I love hearing about them. Best regards
Been thinking about you both for days now and wondering how you are getting on. Lovely post, never feel guilty about telling us how much that lovely boy was loved, it’s one of the reasons your blog is so great to read, your personalities shine through. Lots of love x
Beautifully written and with so much heart. Charlie will always be with you and as “parents” of our beautiful BT “Archie” it brought tears to my eyes thinking of what you must be going through. Keep those memories close to your heart and try to look forward and enjoy your travels. You know that’s what Charlie would want 🐶💙
Your words speak for everyone who has ever loved and lost a pet. They are more than pets, they are members of our family and they bring out the best in us – unconditional love. I didn’t meet Charlie but I lit a wee candle for him in my window. I feel I knew him through your blog. Take care, Deb xx
Great blog Ju, a lovely read, thank you for sharing
Very best wishes
Paul and Kerrie
Beautiful blog post, you may remember me messaging you a few years ago before we began travelling in our motorhome with our dog. You guys were a huge inspiration to us before we embarked on our travel life. Just over a week ago we received news that our pooch has terminal cancer. We feel lost and have no idea how we will move forward when she leaves this world, once agin you guys are inspiring us with your journey. She is still hanging on and is not in any pain so we are just making the most of every minute we have left with her. Our hearts break for you both, you are very much in our thoughts.
Hi Vicky
We’re so sorry to hear about your pooch, you can imagine we’re able to appreciate something of what you’re going though. Enjoy your pooch! Grab photos and video, play, stroke, hand over them treats, make life fantastic for you all (in other words: continue as you always have done). Communication between pooch parents seems essential. After Charlie’s death we let it all out though, talking about our fears for him, how his final months and death affected us, whether we’d done the right thing by him, just letting our grief out. We wrote down everything we missed about him (9 pages and counting). We wrote a eulogy. We watched videos of him and looked at countless photos, springing many happy memories. It’s been less than a week and we’re now down to balling uncontrollably just the one time a day, so it seems in our case either (a) we’re unfeeling gits or (b) our DNA’s programmed to enable us to handle grief, so we ourselves don’t die. Whichever it is, our Mogwai’s life is starting to feel like more of a celebration with each passing hour.
Much love to you all, support each other, Jay
You are not “starting to forget him”, you are adjusting to life without him. Which is difficult to say the least. We don’t know each other but I know what you are going through. Chin up, and continue to enjoy your travels. I very much enjoy your blog.
Aah Mi Ju, and Jay, tears fill my eyes reading this… you were a wonderful family, Charlie will be with you forever in your hearts!
This an oldie but a goodie – time will heal, you just need time. Love you lots xxx
It has all been said already…
Isn’t that freedom a scary thing? You don’t want it -rather have your dog, but it grows on you. Now we are able to visit places together and can hop on a plane if we want to!
It does get easier, but it never stops hurting and you never forget. Xxx
I was away at the weekend in Chuck/Charlie Our B544. Just a mini moho tour for my mum, a first timer. On all the ‘squeaky bum’ moments, I called on Charlie to get us through. The A82 from Crianlarich to Tarbet down the west side of Loch Lomond, with oil tankers and caravans coming the opposite direction, were the scariest, and your boy got me through.
Today is the anniversary of the passing of our very dear friend, Cindy, who lived for her animals and was even out with the rescue/animal welfare groups in between chemo treatments. When we finally lost her, five years ago, we agreed she probably went to rest at the rainbow bridge, welcoming all of the four-legged souls. If Charlie is with Cindy now, they will take care of each other.
Thanks Kath! You **may** have received support from another pooch though – our wee man was atrocious under pressure! The number of times we got stuck somewhere, or had to get into or out of a tight spot. Somehow he knew we were stressed, and would feel it his canine duty to inform the pack he could sniff fear – BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK! I remember us trying to reverse down the Col du Chat facing a full-sized coach, cliffs on both sides, with Mogwai going full gusto, both barky guns barrelling away! He was many things our Charlie, but a helper during squeaky bum moments he was not. :-) Jay
X
Hoping it’s getting easier for you now, sorry to hear about Charlie