Chores Day Done, Sledge Time! Grand Bornand

Zagan the motorhome’s back in the mountains, albeit at a sedate 1000m above sea level, at a roasty toasty external temperature of 0.8°C at 6:32pm. The sun’s gone down and the lights of the ski chalets at Grand Bornand are poking holes in the darkness on the slopes behind us. We’re in a free overnight parking area where motorhomes are allowed to stay for 48 hours (N45.94141 E6.43631). It’s started to snow, and the piste bashers are out, their orange lights whirling away.

The official winter motorhome parking area at Grand Bornand.

Today’s been a job day. Not like a real job of course, although we did get out of bed before 8am, which is almost unheard of on these winter tour days. Despite being parked alongside a road and TGV train track last night, it was deadly quiet and we slept like fire-warmed dogs. Why the ‘early’ start? Must have been the excitement; jobs needed doing! Our fresh water supply was getting low, a huge bag of clothes washing needed doing, and Charlie’s ear infection is back, so we needed more medication for the head-scratching fella.

In the end we sorted the lot, plus topping up on diesel, popping a few PSI into the tyres to bring them back to the 65 PSI front, 70 PSI rear recommended by the tyre fitters, getting some groceries and buying some silicon to reseal around the sink. Chores aren’t the most interesting things to write about, but a few bits and bobs spring to mind:

• We did the washing in an automated lavarie in La Roche Sur Foron. The aire there (N46.0643, E6.3137) is down a steep, angled, narrow road, but easy enough for a 6m rig to pop down. I couldn’t quite believe the borne there was kicking out heat? The door to the back of it was open, revealing a little electric heater, so it could stay on and hand out water for free throughout the winter. Fabulous. We’d have stayed in La Roche, but we had to go back to St Pierre to pick up Charlie’s meds.
• On that subject: you can get some pet medication in pharmacies in France. Ju tried the one in St Pierre and they ordered in exactly what we needed, the same medication the UK vet gave us, delivered a few hours later. Once again, fabulous.
• Back in the lavarie, we got half-talking to a chap who spoke about as much French as us. He turned out to be an Italian chap from Pescara, working in France as a pizza chef and washing his whites in the machine next to ours.
• And leaping forth to the diesel fill-up; a sign alongside the pumps advised the diesel was protected down to -15°C. I read somewhere the UK fuel is also protected to that temperature, so maybe the idea fuel in the mountains is better protected is no longer true?

Our driving finally finished with a 30 minute side-to-side swinger south down the D12. The first half ran through the Gorges d’Eveaux, a pleasant (if a bit narrow!) road hacked into the edge of a cliff, with plenty of places to pull in and ‘de-tail’. This action of allowing the chasing pack of 4 or 5 cars past me really helps me chill on tight drives. Zagan is slow, at least the way I drive, and it helps me relax big style if I don’t think I’m holding folks up.

Up through the Gorges d’Eveaux. Look at the speed-blur on that photo. Ahem.

Further up the valley widened out and snow appeared.

And in a jiffy we were here, the “Grand Bo” as it seems to be known locally. Passing parking areas with signs prohibiting motorhomes, or overnighting, my spirits dropped a little until we found the right spot, with a welcoming little white plaque. Reversing in, we headed off into the town, an easy amble across marked snow-paths, finding the place packed with bright-clad people.

Ju fancied a vin chaud. I asked a bartender if Charlie was allowed in “Yes, on a leash” came the reply in English. Seems they’re used to speaking our tongue here in these parts! Knocking back the hot red stuff, I looked around the bar. Opposite us six English guys in ski gear were drinking pints and watching snow-bound stunts on the TV above my head. To one side a couple were peeling and slicing a cured sausage. The bar tenders were joking with each other, again in English, weird.

It seems we’re in a fairly big resort here, although the chalets are all relatively low-roofed and all in the same Savoyard style. Current thinking is we’ll use our full 48 hours to go see the place, including getting a bit of cheeky man-sledging!

Cracking view from the van window. A minute after taking this another motorhome pulled in and blocked the view, but who’s complaining? Not us.

Cheers! Jay