DESTINATION
The Alpine magic of Aosta Valley is sure to enthral.
With the fragrance of pine in the air and mountains dusted with fresh snow, the Aosta Valley looks like a scene from The Sound of Music - but all Nel Staveley can think about is hot chocolate
I’m standing in the middle of scenery so staggeringly beautiful, they should probably reshoot the opening scene of The Sound of
Music here. Picture-perfect pine forests, distant snow-capped mountains, even a gentle stream tinkling along in the background for good measure...
And yet, for all of nature’s magnificence in the Aosta Valley in the Western Alps, there is only one thought in my head: ‘I really, really want another hot chocolate.’ I know it’s wrong, being privileged enough to see this sort of view but barely acknowledging it because I’m obsessing over hot chocolate. And yes, of course, part of me is ashamed. But the other part doesn’t care.
An hour earlier, in the equally quaint and made-for-a-postcard Italian alpine village of Gressoney-La-Trinité, we’d stopped for an energising snack to fire us up for our two-day hike, and that snack was the most delectable hot chocolate you could ever imagine. Thick, treacle-like gloop – a fondant in a mug, basically – topped with cream and served with a chocolate on the side.
And now, it’s all I can think about. ‘Sorry, no more until we get back tomorrow,’ shrugs our guide, setting off along the alarmingly steep footpath. ‘But it doesn’t matter.’ At first, I’m slightly put out by this last comment. But over the rest of the day, his meaning becomes clear.
In reality ‘it doesn’t matter’ that I’ve just wasted an hour ignoring the awesome landscape we’ve been passing, because at every corner, every path, every time you peer over a peak, it’s there: green, lush, tree-lined, meadow-dotted, flower-dusted Alpine perfection. Even the grey
‘It doesn’ t matter’ that I’ ve WASTED an hour ignoring the AWESOME landscape we’ve been passing through, because at every CORNER it’ s there: LUSH, meadow dotted, Alpine PERFECTION
rocks, randomly scattered from various winter avalanches and now standing stark and defiant against thick beds of grass and trees, have their own splendour.
The guide’s comment also soon rings true in another way. ‘It doesn’t matter’ that I won’t be having another hot chocolate today, because far greater culinary pleasures are in store. After seven hours of walking, we arrive at our accommodation in Champoluc, Chalet Hotel Breithorn, where we’re served a dinner that gives me a whole new obsession.
A Walser version of macaroni and cheese – made with local cheese and bits of meat – is the best I’ve ever tasted. It’s not your traditional Italian fare, but then this bottom corner of the Alps isn’t your traditional Italy.
Populated by the German Walser people fleeing religious persecution in the 12th and 13th centuries, everything from the architecture to the language (Walserdeutsch, a dialect that sounds similar to Flemish but is resolutely German) and food (hearty, carb-fuelled dishes) is influenced by a certain Teutonic nuance. This solid, German efficiency and refined Italian beauty isn’t a blend you see very much, but it works.
Even our guide somehow combines the two, bluntly ignoring my pleas for hot chocolate, insisting on a steady walking pace and delivering us to our hut at exactly the time he said he would (that’s the German bit), yet still finding the time to stop at all the pretty wild flowers and tell us (in zealous and flamboyant detail) their names and blossoming patterns, and extravagantly waving his arms and passionately urging us to stop and take in that view (the Italian bit).
On day two of our hike, to his delight, we do make a few more of these stops as we wind down the valley and back
A Walser VERSION of macaroni and cheese made with local cheese and bits of meat is the BEST I’ve ever TASTED. It’s not traditional Italian FARE, but then this corner of the Alps isn’t TRADITIONAL Italy.
to Gressoney. Quads and glutes now aching, our pace becomes noticeably less urgent than the day before.
The blazing sun also slows us down. It’s easy to forget just how hot the Alps can be in the summer months, as in the winter, this area, known as Monterosa, is a popular ski destination.
We cool off by filling our water bottles at mountain streams, then prepare to indulge in yet another guilty pleasure – shopping for locally produced cured meats and cheeses.
After a quick scout of the local shops, my suitcase is packed with offensively pungent delicacies. But to be honest, our mere two-day hike, however steep the gradient on the first day, doesn’t really justify all this cheese and meat.
The Aosta Valley boasts some of the greatest treks in the Alps, including the ominously named Trail of the Giants. Perhaps if we’d attempted some of those, we’d have deserved the endless treats we kept indulging in.
But then again, not everything has to be a trade-off. You can have a bit of German influence and a bit of Italian influence. You can have distant snow and blistering sunshine. You can have a small, rustic mountain hut and still enjoy fine dining. And you can think of hot chocolate and cheese 50 per cent of your time here, and still know you’re in the middle of somewhere so magical, it’ll 100 per cent seep into your soul.