Skiing is believing
Chamrousse’s tranquil and beautiful wooded Sunset Park.
My turns, posture and speed improved and skiing became exhilarating instead of daunting. I was hooked again.
But if hurtling downhill is not your thing, this ski resort in Isere department has more to offer than just its six green runs, 14 blues, 15 reds and six blacks, accessed by adult lift passes from €36.50 a day.
Near its nursery slopes is the sizeable Nordic Park with crosscountry skiing, snow mountain biking and dog sledding.
It also has walking routes and taking a 2.5km afternoon hike in snowshoes – imagine a pair of Crocs on a piece of tyre – is a great way to relax and enjoy the magnificent scenery.
Chamrousse is home to black grouse, which nest in the snow, white ptarmigan, fox, wolves, pygmy owls, mountain goats and the rare cembra pine. This grows in rocks and often inaccessible spots, thanks to the nutcracker bird, which buries its seeds then forgets about them.
You can also take it easy for a couple of hours (€27) at Les Bains de Chamrousse which has a warm pool, hammam, sauna, soothing music and a balcony to watch the sunset.
Being France, food was taken seriously, whether it was a tasty pizza at Pepe Rosso, marvellous mountain food next to a log fire at the popular Le P’tit Sale or a memorable meal at Le Chalet.
Here I had my first taste of a Chartreuse mule, an adaptation of Moscow mule cocktail, using the strong liqueur locally made from 140 herbs to a secret recipe only known by two monks.
But it was my main course which was unforgettable. I ordered ribs, expecting to see a manageable rack covered in barbecue sauce. A kilo of beef, a large bowl of chips and a salad turned up. I did my best but the salad defeated me.
My friends and I stayed in the quirky, friendly, familyrun Hotel du Virage in Chamrousse 1650, the only hotel in town. The resort does flats for visitors to rent but the town appreciates it needs more hotel space.
About 30 minutes away by bus is Grenoble, which is on France’s super-efficient train system.
Even nearer is the elegant spa town of Uriage-lesBains, where people have been taking its therapeutic waters for asthma, eczema and arthritis since the times of the Romans.
At its heart is the magnificent 19th century four-star Grand Hotel and Spa, which has indoor and outdoor pools, sauna and health treatments, including some amazingly soothing oil massages.
Up its original wooden spiral staircase are themed rooms, many of which have been named after famous former guests such as French fashion designer Coco Chanel, who helped put the hotel back on the map.
The Grand overlooks pleasing 19th century houses, painted in pastel shades, and a park that runs through the town.
It is used for yoga, food markets and book and antique stalls, and also has a bandstand, tennis courts, a public nine-hole golf course and a perfect carousel.
At €2 a ride, we couldn’t resist having a go. Afterwards, I believe, the painted pony I rode had to be taken out and shot.
But for me Uriage’s finest gem is La Maison Aribert, an impeccable two Michelin-star restaurant where smart staff under the benign, watchful eye of chef Christophe Aribert delivered, in unison, culinary masterpieces which looked too good to eat.
Dish after dish exploded with colour, textures and flavours.
I had feared my appreciation was going to be purely visual, because my sense of taste and smell were still badly impaired after having coronavirus 16 months earlier, but then came the perfect egg course.
The pure, earthy flavour of mushroom came through pure and strong.
The taste of one of my favourite foods was no longer just a memory and I was left feeling more hopeful for the future.
Christophe and his team had given us the Rolls-Royce treatment and made me feel that there may be a few miles left in this old engine yet.