Col de L’Iseran to Tignes to Bourg-Saint-Maurice, Crossing Savoie

Zagan the motorhome’s found himself in thicker air than he’s been in for a while. We’re down at 900m above sea level at Camping Huttopia in Bourg-Saint-Maurice (N45.62250, E6.78313). It’s an ACSI site, so not expensive out of season, at €17 a night including electricity (our Remoska oven is on spud-baking duty as I type), swish hot showers (which will be in for lengthy use this afternoon), a laundry room (thank the gods, our washing pile has enveloped our drinks stash, and is threatening to bust the cupboard door) and (I’m told), a heated pool! We’ve not paid for an overnight stay for nigh-on a month, and may well be here a wee while using all that saved wonga…

Camping Huttopia in Bourg-Saint-Maurice

Right, what’s been happening? For this next part, I need a map, and here is such a thing, courtesy of Michelin:

If you squint at it enough, or just take my word for it, Bonneval-sur-Arc is to the right hand side, on the yellow road which then runs north to Val d’Isère, via some bendy bits, which in real life’s the rock-and-snow Col de L’Iseran. To the bottom-right is the Col du Mont Cenis, after a twisting section of red road, which leads over to Italy (you can see the border to the right). The point of all this is this: if the Col de L’Iseran’s shut, which it was when we arrived, then you can’t carry on north from Bonneval – it’s the end of the Earth – as we and numerous other motorhomes and campervans found out. In this circumstance, you have these options:

• Option One: Wait for the col to open. This is what Cathy and Steve were doing for a few days, fellow Brits and Hymer drivers, who immediately set about feeding and watering us when we met them at Bonneval, and even dog-sitting Charlie so we could go out for a walk on my birthday, top people. They’re a fascinating couple who’ve lived (and continue to live) extra-ordinary lifestyles. Just one example: for a few years they managed to mix up work on offshore oil rigs in the North Sea with travelling in their motorhome. They’d spend three weeks touring, park the van at an airport, fly to the UK to work solidly for two weeks on a rig, then back out to the van. Incredible eh?
• Option Two: Drive off in a huff. We witnessed one or two folks arrive at the red Fermé sign at the col, enter the adjacent tourist information office and emerge perplexed, before burning off south again. The problem with this option is: it’s a bleddy long way round if you want to go to Val d’Isère, at least 3 hours on the motorway at top speed, more like a full day of driving A roads for us.
• Option Three: Go to Italy. This was our plan.
• Option Four: Ignore the Fermé sign and plough on. Fortunate favours the brave and all that. This seemed to work for a few folks. Others got stuck up there when the avalanche which again ‘delayed’ us cut them off, requiring rescue. We’re too British (and not in enough of a hurry) to try Option Four.

So, the col was closed due to an avalanche, and we’d decided to stay at Bonneval for my birthday and then drive to Italy. In the spirit of being an old man (who was also somewhat knackered after running up to the col the day before), I went for a short amble up the valley to celebrate. Rock and roll! I was in bed for 9:30pm too… Anyway, just a 40 min walk up alongside the small but raging Arc river lies the hamlet of L’Écot. Now this HAS to be the end of the Earth! While it was all blue skies and green grass on a mid-June morning, this place will be neck-deep in snow and ice all winter, and anyone living in these all-stone houses at that point has my everlasting respect. I’ve a suspicion no-one is mad enough these days, but I have been wrong before.

The hamlet of L’Écot

That evening word came through, spreading across the 15-or-so waiting motorhomes like wildfire: the col will open tomorrow, at 8am! The authorities had cleared enough of the fallen snow and rock to allow us to pass, and deemed the remaining snow walls stable enough to not fall on passing campervanners. Cracking! The following morning, saying bye to Cathy and Steve who planned to free camp on the top of the col, we ventured uphill.

My nerves are starting to settle down with these mountain roads now, but they’re not completely horizontal, and I was leant into the windscreen, mentally urging there to be no coaches coming the other way as we ascended.

This was the site of the avalanche which had closed the Col de L’Iseran

The road was blissfully quiet it turned out, mostly motorbikes who we could easily pass, and we even managed to stop on the road and grab a few photos of the more impressive snow walls towards the top of the col.

Hats off to the locals for clearing the thing: there was an info board down in the town showing how violently snow-bound it gets at times.

Snow on the Col de L’Iseran in June

Up at the col there’s plenty of parking on one side, a short drive up a hill. We didn’t know that though, so wedged ourselves in among the gathering horde of bikers on the other side, causing a few nervous glances when we reversed out later on, threatening a domino-effect smashing of gleaming machines, and a subsequent lynching.

Topping out on the Col de L’iseran

Opting not to stay high (there were a few spots up there you could probably overnight), we engine-braked Zagan off the other side, which had no snow, but rather impressive vertical views down on Val d’Isère:

Val d’Isère – no drone required to get this shot!

Finally down in the valley, a small prayer went up for the van’s brakes continuing to function, and we sniffed out the campsite on the edge of town. Ju went to investigate and found not much more than a field: no clothes washing facilities, no shade etc, so we turning back to park4night and its candid reviews of parking places. The end result: the motorhome aire in Val d’Isère is expensive and rubbish, go to the one in Tignes down the road instead, which we did, weirdly by driving over a huge dam:

The dam road to Tignes

A waterfall beside the dam at Tignes

Pulling into where the aire was supposed to be in Tignes, we were a bit perplexed. Yes, there were a couple of motorhomes and even a caravan, but zero signs saying motorhomes could stay, and for a good while we couldn’t find the service point, finally discovering it in among some stored materials waiting to be re-deployed come winter, including a massive air bag in a container for practising ski jumping. After servicing Zagan, getting a comedy soaking from the fire-hose water pressure into the bargain, we found a quiet spot and parked up (N45.45723, E6.89692), expecting the local police to collect €7 from us that evening, which they never did.

Summer motorhome parking in Tignes

And from this point it went a bit wrong. As the day progressed poor old Charlie’s breathing became a tad ragged, which isn’t all that unusual with his heart condition, but it was preventing him from sleeping, which is unusual. This got worse into the evening, leading to a broken night’s kip, a lot of fretting, fear and tears all round. We **think** that our attempts to keep him cool by staying high have unwittingly caused him a problem by giving him air which is too thin. We were over 2000m up, so this morning we did the obvious thing and found somewhere much lower to head for: here. The campsite’s at about 900m, and having been here for a few hours he already seems more comfortable and is snoring outside as I type. We’ll get him into the local vets while we’re here to see if they can do any more for him, but we’re not holding out much hope having been through all the available options in the past. We’ll see.

Right. The spuds are ready. Time to go eat. And shower. And hopefully catch some of the England game.

Cheers folks, Jay