Col de la Forclaz into Switzerland, Randa

Zagan the motorhome’s hemmed in by high furrowed cliffs, their ridges flowing with trees and sprouting waterfalls carrying glacial melt from the Swiss heights above us. We’re at Camping Attermenzen just north of the village of Randa, in a deep valley which carries a cog railway south through car-less Zermatt and eventually up to Gornergrat (N46.08571, E7.78168). It’s 1400m high here at our camping site, an altitude which is fine for us but wouldn’t have been possible for Charlie at the end of his life. It’s with a mixture of wonder and regret that I stare out at the oil painting world around us.

The way here took us down through Les Houches near Chamomix, where we parked up for free by a small lake with some other vans (a couple of which had put down roots), and stood enchanted at the gleaming glaciers shoving their way down from the Mont Blanc massif (N45.89589, E6.78151). On the way there we’d stacked the cupboards and fridge at an Intermarche, to thumb our noses at Switzerland’s sky-high prices. A bit further along we pulled in for some cheap diesel at another supermarket, from there it went a tad wrong (Switzerland’s Revenge?), as we managed to wedge Zagan’s exhaust end pipe up against the locker on a high plinth in the petrol station, requiring the deployment of The Pursuader (hammer) to get us out. As Ju drove into the parking area so we could inspect the damage, the end of the exhaust parted company with the van, and was promptly run over by the wheels. Being solid stainless steel, and having ignored an adjacent motorist’s urging to ‘just keep driving’ (which would have crushed the locker), the damage was limited to a broken rubber and we patched it up to get rolling again.

Free motorhome parking at Les Houches, near Chamonix

On a wee jaunt into Les Houches we’d tracked down the Kandahar piste and had had a laugh at just how unwalk-able it had been in the winter when we came to watch the racing, bumping into the Ski Sunday guys on the way. These Charlie-less days are throwing weird opportunities our way. Simple stuff. Like the two of us being able to go for a walk together, putting the alarm on on the van. It’s becoming clear that while we loved our wee man deeply, and we regret not a single day of having him, he was an epic ten year project for us. Opportunities like being able to take a cable car into the mountains and spend a day walking were just not possible, and immediately put aside. Thoughts about being able to fly elsewhere in the world have been put on hold for the past few years, as we dare not risk getting him on a plane. It’s only been a week since he died, so we’re not exactly dancing around, but our thoughts are starting to lean towards where we go from here.

Testing out the Kandahar run in the summer

The world around Les Houches and Chamonix is just so, so beautiful.

Over the past few days Phil and Jules have been tracking south east in Big Ben, their Mercedes Hymer, aiming for the very spot here in Switzerland we’re both currently camped at. We kept in touch, and the planets aligned for us to meet at a campsite in Raron, which sits in a broad valley running east-west across the Valais canton in Switzerland. Departing Les Houches. We knew the route there from France, as Tod and Mandy (a British Airways pilot living in Chamonix and his lovely wife) urged us that way on a previous tour, and remembered the epic descent down from the Col de la Forclaz to Martigny once past the border into Switzerland. Second gear was deployed to prevent boiling brake fluid and subsequent screaming, and with relief we finally reached the valley floor below.

Crossing from France in Switzerland. No controls were visible, I even ignored the ‘STOP’ sign, although no-one else did.

On the epic descent to Martigny

We’re all here for two reasons: 1. It’s a lovely place to be and 2. Phil and I are off for a half marathon run up the valley side tomorrow. Once that’s complete, our thinking is we’ll make a run back to France. Why? Partly cost: we’re using the ACSI discount scheme to get camping for a reasonable rate, and the sites are all ending their low seasons around about now. Also the Tour de France will be passing the eastern end of France so we could pop and see a stage. Whatever the reason, we didn’t want to pay the full yearly vignette for a few hours use of the motorway, so we’ve both followed the blue (non-toll) signs to get here.

The campsite we used at Raron is in the main valley (N46.30196, E7.80212), which is itself a mixture of farmland, shopping centres, businesses, the Rhone river, airports and railways lines, with the sides a patchwork of postcard vineyards. A series of tanks greeted us at one point on the way, all sat haughty on the back of a train. Fighter jets flew overhead. A diversion took us through what appeared to be an army base. Switzerland might be neutral, but it’s also armed to the teeth! DO NOT MESS WITH US, they announced very effectively as we entered the country.

Once we’d met up with our mates, the main entertainment (other than Phil and Jules’ magnificent tales of adventures) was the rubbish. This area of Switzerland, it would appear, dispenses orange plastic bags for non-recyclable stuff. These bags must cost plenty of money, as the receptionist was very reluctant to hand ’em out, questioning why you might need another after a couple of days. At one point Jules was admonished for having placed some of her rubbish in another, partly empty plastic bag, as the owner of that bag (which was in the bin) had spotted her and complained. This made us all wonder.

The campsite at Raron, Switzerland

The Felsenkirche, an underground church in a blasted -out cavern below a higher, much older church in Raron

Jules running the Switzerland Orange Rubbish Bag Gauntlet

This morning we coughed up the various taxes which Switzerland appends to everything (three breaths of air? that’ll be 3 CHF sir – that’s how it stays so beautiful), and rolled off east, then along the valley, through mile-long tunnels and rolling around a few hairpins on the way. Phil and Jules have been here before, so we followed ’em to Saint Niklaus where we grabbed our race numbers (and picked up a bargain rucksack, brand new but from the 2015 race – there were stacks of cheap quality running tops too, but I’ve got enough).

And here we are! The site’s filling up a little with motorhomes, vans and tents, ready for the weekend. A couple of thousand runners will be up here tomorrow for the various races; the half, the full marathon, and and a ‘ultra’ which adds a crazy climb to the usual 26.2 miles. The atmosphere should be good, and I’m excited to not be running alone as I have been these past couple of months. Ju and Jules have tickets for the cog train, so can get up and down the valley tomorrow to watch us and visit the various villages and viewpoints. There’s a 5 litre barrel of beer imported from Blighty cooling under the van, and I’m informed a beer might be handed out at the finish, which will last about 2 nano-seconds of me passing the Finish line. England play Sweden in the World Cup to top the afternoon off; it’s gonna be an interesting day.

Cheers, Jay